#you guys have NO idea how hard this prompt was for me. i agonized over this for 4 days straight because i was drawing blanks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nastyatticman · 3 years

Note

Uhh hi

Could you do just phone sex with billy lenz but with a male reader? And like showing both povs

Sorry if that too much

It’s not too much! I love this prompt 👀 I love writing Billy’s POV too, it’s fun!

This ended up way longer than I intended but I had a lot of fun with it! Enjoy :3c

Billy Lenz x male Reader

Warnings: voyeurism, crude language (it’s Billy Lenz after all). Reader is male, and it’s written vague enough to be trans inclusive. (Well, it works for me, but YMMV. Words like cock, hole, etc are used) 18+ Only

Things were tense lately - you were having an awful time at work, and it didn’t help that people were always rude about your work’s mask policy. You just couldn’t understand how someone would complain about having to wear a piece of cloth in the five minutes it took to order donuts, especially to you, who obviously had to wear one all day and stay on your feet the whole time.

It was stupid. People are stupid. You were just glad to get back to your apartment and lay down for a while. It was a little lonely, just you and the plants since your roommate was out to visit his girlfriend’s family. Not that you’d missed seeing him every day in quarantine.

No, you kind of appreciated the privacy. Today you were frustrated and couldn’t think of anything that sounded better than getting off. So you watered the plants, grabbed yourself a drink, and loaded up a video you bought recently.

You started off slow, rubbing yourself through your clothes as the guys started making out on the screen - the big screen, since you finally felt comfortable watching porn on your laptop. As things started to escalate, you undid your pants, finally stroking your cock directly. But, like all things today, some stranger decided to interrupt you.

The phone rang down the hall and you almost let it ring, but you remembered your friend was expecting a call from a place he’d applied to, so you had to answer it anyway. Ugh. You rinsed your hand quickly and picked it up.

“Hello?”

The line was silent, save for some heavy breathing. God, not this guy again... You weren’t sure who the mystery caller was, but he’d grown on you. First you thought it was your roommate’s friend Peter playing a prank on you (even though you’d met him and his girlfriend Jess, and they seemed serious, despite how out of his league she was). You didn’t know, straight men are weird.

But Peter denied it when you had your roommate ask him, so... And besides, how many straight men call their male acquaintances to proposition them for sex?

At this point, it was tempting - you didn’t have time to meet people since the lockdown began, and your roommate was out...

The man kept breathing, once in a while making a strangled noise like he was trying not to laugh.

“Are you gonna get to the point already?” you asked him.

He laughed. “You want my cock, you pig? Fuck - fucking whore wants my fat fucking cock, filling up his tight ass?”

“Oh, quit projecting on me,” you teased. “I bet you’d want me to fuck your ass, don’t you?”

He was speechless for a second, and you heard something that could be him swallowing hard over the phone. His response was barely audible. “Maybe. Y- yeah.”

You smirked, you didn’t know if that would work. “Yeah, if I were there you know what I’d do?”

He took a shaky breath. “What?”

“I’d bend you over for me, yeah,” you said, voice low. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but you brought the phone into your room, laying back on the bed, your hand back to stroke yourself through your pants. “If - if you’re wearing pants I’d rip them off, I don’t fucking care. I’d spread your cheeks and eat your ass.”

You thought back to something he said on a previous call. “You like tongue fucking, huh?” The only response you got was his breathing getting harder, the sounds of skin slapping against skin on the other end. Hook, line, and sinker.

“I’d fuck you on my tongue, fill you up with it, so you’re ready to take my fingers,” you continue. There was a strangled moan on the other end. “Start you off with one, I bet you’d want another just as fast. You’d beg for it, huh?”

“Fuck me,” he rasped.

“Someone’s a needy little... pig, huh?” you asked. He made a noise like he was choking, almost, which made you nervous for a second. But he seemed fine by the way he kept at it. Only thing that was being choked was his chicken on the other end of the line, you were sure. “What do you have to say to that?”

Click.

The only answer you got was a dial tone. That dick hung up on you!

Well, shit, you were already there, you may as well... You put the phone down and laid back, stroking your cock again. You had no idea what that guy looked like, but the sound of him moaning and touching himself over the phone was more than enough to get you off...

The rest of the day passed normally. Unsurprisingly, you got a good night’s sleep after that.

After another grueling day at the workplace, you got back to your apartment. Your roommate wasn’t there, but you saw that he left you a note on the counter explaining he was going to see his girlfriend again. That was fine by you, you... wouldn’t admit it, but you were maybe hoping for another call.

What you didn’t expect was how soon it would happen.

—

Billy watched the man walking up to the apartment complex, and slowly made his way to where he’d been staying. There was a surprisingly large storage room that had decent phone reception, and it was easy to steal from the building’s laundry room bit by bit if you knew what you were doing...

He waited and listened, drumming his fingers on his thighs. If he was quiet enough, he could just hear the sound of you unlocking and closing the door behind you. Click. Locked again.

Billy flipped open his phone and checked the time. 4:45. Okay, he’d give you maybe 7 minutes to get comfortable before he called. He flipped the phone closed, and grabbed something to occupy himself. It just was a broken Rubik’s cube he swiped from someone who visited a few weeks ago, but it was enough to keep him from getting tempted and getting to the main event before he even got you on the line with him. Well, that and to keep him from agonizing over it. He’d never had someone take over like that with him... he had plenty of people tell him to fuck himself, sure, but none so far that had told him they’d fuck him themselves.

None like you.

Eventually he gave up trying to solve it for real and just broke the pieces off, assembling it in the right colors. 4:55. Time enough for you.

He picked up the phone, leaning back on the wall, and dialed your number. Waiting for you to pick up, he fidgeted with his fly and undid his pants.

“Hello?” came your voice on the other end.

“I’ve been thinking about you, what you said,” he started up, groping his hardening cock.”How about I return the favor and fuck your tight fucking hole?”

Your voice was like honey to him. “Oh? Tell me about it, piggy.”

He gritted his teeth, grabbing his cock harder than he meant to. “You’re the pig, you- you took Billy’s call, you whore.”

“Fine by me,” you said, cool as a cucumber. “Tell me about it, Billy. If that’s your name.”

Billy bit his lip, doing his best to get his cock out with one hand. “Wanna - I wanna shove you against a wall, Turn you around, cover your mouth so your fucking roommate can’t hear you moaning for me. Grope your thighs, pull your goddamn hair, how about that?”

“Sounds good, but you know what really gets me going?” you asked. “I want you to bite me. Can you do that for me, Billy?”

“Yes,” he replied instantly. “Bite you so hard I leave fucking marks for fucking days. They’ll know you’re mine, mine, mine.” God, he was hard, his cock was leaking already, and he just used it to lube his hand as he stroked harder and faster.

“Oh? Why don’t you make me yours then? You wanna come in me?”

“Of course,” he replied, barely letting you finish. “I’m gonna fuck your tight little hole so hard you can’t fucking walk for days, everyone’s gonna hear you moan for me so hard, like a whore, Billy’s whore. Yes, I’m gonna fuck you sore, fuck you raw, fuck you senseless, come in your greedy fucking hole.”

He was close, he knew it. And for once you didn’t have a wise guy response for him! He barked out a laugh and imitated your voice almost perfectly. “What do you have to say to that?”

You didn’t respond fast enough, and it only made him cackle.

“I’m c-close, I’m gonna come,” he said. “Think about me flooding your tight little hole, you pig.”

He came, finally, and moaned into the phone for you. He played it up a little, for your benefit of course. He wouldn’t admit that was the hardest he’d come in a while.

You were close to follow him, and he sat there, panting, listening to you come down from your peak. He snickered. “Good piggy.”

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, half joking.

“Yes,” he said instantly. “I’ll meet you, how about that?”

“Fuck yes, please,” you said. “Wait, how would you know where to meet me?”

Click.

Despite his abruptness, Billy was nothing if not a man of his word. Of course, you wouldn’t find that out until tomorrow...

#nasty attic originals #billy lenz x reader #slasher x male reader #lemon #nsft #any chance i get to trash peter in a black christmas fanfic is a chance i take #don't worry let's say attic man is vaccinated

415 notes · View notes

honestlyfrance · 3 years

Text

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

#onlysambucky #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #france: fic rec #fic rec #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

165 notes · View notes

favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

forever, forgotten

prompt: The two of you realize that you don’t work as well as you originally think. characters: zhongli/gn!reader, diluc/gn!reader, childe/gn!reader word count: 2.2k warnings: brief injury description, putting in stitches is described, emotional cheating (but not physical or overt), pain and angst a/n: rev up those fryers, because i am sure hungry for some angst! i love pain. i really do. it’s where i feel my writing thrives. but i apologize for making reader an ass in some of these. oops. it’s only human nature :) no beta reader btw, pls send in an ask if you see any errors so i can fix them!

CHILDE/TARTAGLIA

childe has always been one to thrive in the heat of battle, while you’ve been one to thrive literally anywhere else than a fight.

your relationship is kept on the downlow, both because you don’t want the attention of dating a fatui harbinger and childe doesn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of any battles of his.

why date a man if you can’t be involved in what he loves the most?

he arrives at your doorstep, a sheepish, tired smile on his face, one hand clutching his opposite arm, trying to tamp the blood that seeps into the grey fabric of his clothing.

you meet his gaze with an equally tired one. the sun has yet to rise and you are no longer surprised by your lover’s impromptu visits at your doorstep, nor his condition.

he only shows up when he needs something, after all.

you usher him in without a word and he sits at your dining table, quiet as you stitch up his wounds.

you’re not a nurse. you shouldn’t be so good at piercing a needle through someone’s skin. the thought of it unsettles you a bit, but you withhold these thoughts from the harbinger before you, who always desires to run a sharp blade of water through the necks of his enemies.

the silence between the two of you isn’t tense. rather, the air is dull and laced with fatigue. you know the man before you will fall asleep wordlessly on your couch soon before you navigate to your bedroom and slump over on your mattress. you’ll leave for work in the morning, leaving him to dream away on the couch. by the time you arrive home, he’ll be gone without a trace, except for the stack of mora he leaves on your kitchen table.

your relationship is no more than transactional at this point, but at least those who are paid for the night feel the warm touch of another.

however, tartaglia throws a wrench in your typical night plans. he decides to speak.

“there’s a new guy where you work,” he speaks, lifting his eyes from the needle in your hands to meet yours. “you get along well.” the words of the harbinger are embittered, laced with a childish petulance. but rather than assuage his fears, you furrow your brows and lift the needle up, before puncturing the skin with it once more.

“you sent people to watch me,” you scoff. it doesn’t exit your lips as a question, but rather a statement of ire. childe huffs in response.

“do you wish for me to leave you unguarded?” he says, irritation lacing his tone. nonetheless, he shakes his head slightly, ruffling his brunette hair. “whatever. Coworker.”

“what about him?” you respond, finishing his stitches and scooting your chair backwards to give him space. you finally make eye contact and realize that within his azure eyes, jealousy lies. “he’s a coworker.”

exhaustion is getting to the both of you. childe takes note of your dull-eyed look, a far cry from how you once looked at him. your lips rest in a slight frown and dark circles rest underneath your eyes. you look absolutely exhausted. nonetheless, he pushes onward.

“you two spend quite a bit of time together,” tartaglia remarks.

“if you have someone following me around all the time, then you know i’m not cheating,” you respond, folding your arms and narrowing your eyes at him.

“i know. but maybe it would be easier if you did,” his words soften and reveal a subtle pain behind what he’s saying, but in your fatigued state, the meaning is unclear.

“what the hell does that even mean?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay level. you’re tired, which means you’re more likely to be irritated, but you stay steady. whoever raises their voice first loses the argument, in your eyes.

“maybe it would be better if you were with someone you still loved,” childe finally confesses, yet another layer of defensiveness stripped from his voice, revealing his nerves. you glance up from where you had absentmindedly fixated your gaze on your thighs -- when had you done that? -- and look into his eyes to see the flames of jealousy being overwhelmed with an ocean of sadness. the harbinger had always loved the sea.

“don’t say that,” you murmur. “don’t do this to yourself, tartaglia.”

“ajax,” he whispers, correcting you. you know if he speaks louder, the ocean within his eyes will seep out. “and if you feel that way, then say it.”

“say what?” you ask, rubbing a hand across your eyes.

“say you love me,” ajax whispers. his face is flushed red as he struggles to contain the melancholy emotions he’s tried so hard to lock away.

you go quiet. at one point, you would have screamed the words from the top of the highest liyuean mountains, but now, a lump in your throat prevents them from exiting your mouth to reassure your lover, if you’re even allowed to call him that.

a bitter smile spreads across his face, his eyes growing red. “thank you,” he says, his tone saturated with emotional agony.

you watch him leave. your past screams at you to reach out to him, to beg him to stay, but you watch him collect his things and exit your house silently. as tartaglia closes your front door softly behind him, not bothering to look back at you, you let out a shaky sigh and curl up on your couch.

your head finds itself upon the throw pillow that his blood had leaked onto, but you’re too tired to care. instead, you lie on your side, wondering about what could’ve been before falling into a dreamless sleep.

DILUC

you’re a people person while he’s a lone wolf, a commoner while he was always destined to be a societal elite. in comparison with the man significant enough to receive a gift from the gods, you are nothing.

but he always made you feel differently. he would hold you close on winter nights, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fell asleep to his heartbeat. but that’s all they were -- nothings.

you saw how he looked at her -- a liyuean diplomat. you had asked him about her before.

“she’s just someone from the past,” diluc had stated, not making eye contact and brushing away your words, an uncharacteristic move for the man who would once recite ballads of your beauty whenever you had expressed an insecurity. “nobody to worry about.” he

but as they leaned in close to each other, whispering to each other as diluc tended the bar, her resting her elbows on the counter, you realized that their relationship had never been platonic and you were a fool to believe they didn’t have a history together.

you stayed positive until the calvary captain noticed your sad looks towards the bar. he simply murmured a few words to you that would confirm your fears.

you didn’t want to play if you were always going to be second place to a woman who showed up every blue moon.

maybe that’s her appeal, you thought to yourself. she’s here infrequently enough that he’s smitten with her. she leaves before she can become mundane, exits the scene before his memories of her can sour.

but the days roll by and you find yourself becoming more and more embittered. diluc stays out late, saying work is keeping him. kaeya tells you otherwise. for a man who has no reason to be involved, you owe your dignity to kaeya for intervening and telling you the truth.

but diluc doesn’t cheat. he just smiles at her. they’re friends, that’s all. but jealousy is the devil’s mistress and you lay in bed with her in your heart as she pries her fingers into your love and rips it apart at the seams.

the liyuean woman leaves. upon her departure, your love for the red-haired man exits the stage as well, leaving behind a neglected husk of a relationship.

diluc smiles at you, none the wiser, approaching you after you finish your shift one evening. this is the first time you’ve spoken in three weeks and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

upon seeing his lips curl upwards at your appearance, the fragments of your heart shatter into dust, for you realize that the way he looked at the liyuean diplomat will never compare to the look he gives you.

he invites you over to his place, saying he misses your company. what is there to miss? you’ve been here all along, watching, waiting, agonizing over him, and yet he acts like he wasn’t the one that caused the two of you to be apart.

“i don’t think it’s the best idea for us to keep being together in such a manner,” you respond as you grab your bag, not making eye contact. “we wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

diluc watches you leave, stunned by your response. “wait,” he calls out to you, making you turn around. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” you lie, plastering a fake, soft smile on your face. “i just think i did. it’s nothing you did, i just… don’t think i can keep doing a relationship right now.”

“you’re breaking up with me?” diluc asks, dumbfounded. “here? Now?”

“yes,” you respond, praying your voice doesn’t crack and revealing your sadness. “i’ve found someone else to put first.” myself, you think. you watch as diluc attempts a stoic expression, but you can see the sadness in his eyes.

as the winds of mondstadt swirl around the two of you, blowing the dusty ashes of your heart that had been burnt away by the redhead with the pyro vision into uncharted territories, you can only manage a weak, apologetic smile at seeing him go through the grief you had gone through only a week prior, when you had finally determined that you needed to break up with him.

“i’ll see you around,” you say, before brushing past him and heading home, for once, alone.

ZHONGLI

the two of you sip your tea quietly as zhongli relishes in your company, pleased to see you after you had returned from an adventuring commission.

“i’m glad you returned to liyue harbor safely,” zhongli confesses. his words, much like his actions, are predictable.

you love zhongli, you really do, but after spending two years with him as his lover, you realize that maybe he’s not the one for you.

the geo archon is reliable, loyal, and honest. he’s considerate and kind. you had no reason not to take him as a lover -- he’s the perfect gentleman with a well-paying job. staying with him would provide love and stability.

but, you realized you made a mistake not long after accepting his romantic confession. zhongli was lovely, but he failed to ignite the spark in your heart that most lovers did. he was predictable, too predictable in your case. the geo archon, after millenia of war, anguish, and disconnect from the human race, decided the best life to live as a human was one of routine and peace.

you envied him. you truly did. his happiness was rooted in the status quo, the idea of nothing in his simple life changing. you longed for adventure, for excitement, never having been one to stay in a place for too long.

just as you knew when it was time to move cities, you knew it was time to move on past this relationship in your heart. your love for zhongli had fallen platonic. you were only clinging onto the familiarity zhongli provided as he had not given you a reason to leave.

but maybe zhongli himself was your reason to leave. after all of his service to liyue, he deserves someone who loves him with his whole heart. despite your consistent completion of adventurer’s guild duties, this is one commission that you cannot complete. no matter how hard you wish to, you cannot bring yourself to love the geo archon with your whole heart.

therefore, you realize, you must let him go.

you’re a coward, though. a person who can slay a stonehide lawachurl alone, who has countless battle scars from the most fearsome of challenges, is unable to look their lover in his patient amber eyes and tell them how they feel, for they do not wish to acknowledge the pain they will bring to their gentle lover who would, truly, move mountains for them.

so you write a letter while he’s at work, detailing your sorrows and how you wish for him to find happiness. you’re a coward, you scream at yourself as tears roll down your face, staining the parchment your pen shakily moves across. he deserves better.

he deserves better, which is why you leave the letter in an envelope for him on the table, the ring that normally rests on your left hand on top of it. by the time he reads it, you’ll be on a boat to inazuma, free from the consequences of your heartbreak and your actions.

you never quite forgive yourself for leaving the geo archon behind.

#zhongli's section is the shortest but it's my favorite #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #diluc x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #*writing #*50 follower celebration #*zhongli #*diluc #*childe #*tartaglia #*headcanons #*angst

976 notes · View notes

scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

When you know

AN: There’s nothing like getting drunk and singing karaoke to bring two people together.

Characters: Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

Prompt: “Hey ! Can you do a spencer imagine about him bringing his crush to the bar with the team and they have a drunk karaoke night and he confesses his feelings for her ? 🥺”

------------------

By the time the phone finally rang, it was nearly 8pm and you’d drifted off into a restless sleep on the couch in your living room. The sound woke you up and you groaned at your empty apartment, fumbling around until you felt the cool metal against your skin.

“Mmhmm?” You hummed, still half asleep.

“Y/N?” Spencer said.

Your heart jumped at the sound of your friend’s voice. You’d been waiting for him to call all day but, when you glanced at the clock and saw how late it was, you decided that you couldn’t let him know that.

“Go away.”

Even through the phone you could hear Spencer shift his weight from one foot to the other, “Y/N/N I’m sorry-“

“No, stop it, I’m still mad at you,” you interrupted without any real malice, “you promised me dinner, Spencer Reid. It’s 8pm.”

“I had a case,” he laughed, “what did you expect me to do? Rush home before we were done?”

“No, that would be unreasonable,” you answered, rolling onto your back, “I expected you to do your job faster so that I wouldn’t have to spend hours wasting away in my apartment.”

“Wasting away?”

“Wasting away!” You repeated, “you should see me, Spence, I’m positively faint from hunger.”

He chuckled through the phone and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice slipping away. The thought made you smile. If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was your ability to make Spencer Reid smile. He may have been a genius, but you were funny so, if you think about it, who was the real winner?

“I’m serious!” You insisted, “I should take you to court, mister. I’ll have you know it’s illegal to keep a girl waiting like this on a Friday night.”

“I think your definition of illegal could probably use some brushing up,” Spencer teased, “and by the way? It’s doctor.”

“Oooooh I’m sorry,” you smiled, “Doctor.”

Spencer laughed again, and you felt a familiar tingle rush through your stomach. You’d known Spencer for quite some time now but, no matter how often you talked, there was something about his voice that always made you weak at the knees.

You’d met at a coffee shop near your house when he’d tripped over your bag and nearly turned your crisp white work shirt into a soggy, caffeinated mess. As it happened, the coffee had narrowly missed you, and you’d insisted on buying him a new one, forcing him to sit down and relax. You’d ended up talking for nearly an hour and, when you arrived the next day, Spencer was already there, with your coffee order in hand. After that, well, you’d been inseparable.

Spencer hummed, “How about I make it up to you? My friends and I are going out tonight, do you wanna come?”

You sat up, “Friends? What friends? Your crime fighting pals?”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes fondly, “You know we’re not technically crime fighters, we’re closer to detectives in the classic sense.”

“Okay, fine, your detective buddies. Either way I’m so there. Where should I meet you?” You replied.

As Spencer listed off the address you rushed to your room, searching the closet for something suitable to wear. You’d never met Spencer’s friends before and you knew you wanted to make a good impression.

—————————

When Spencer hung up, he was somewhere between nervous and excited. It had been too long since he’d seen you face-to-face and the idea of you being right there in front of him in less than twenty minutes was nearly intoxicating.

“She’s coming?” Morgan asked.

“He looks way too happy for her to have said no,” Prentiss smiled.

“Ooooo we get to meet her?” Garcia asked, clapping her hands with excitement.

“It’s about time,” Morgan agreed.

Spencer blushed, “You guys promised you’d be nice.”

“What? I’m nice!” Prentiss argued.

“Yeah, Reid, you've got nothing to worry about. We’ll all be on our best behavior around Lover Girl, I promise,” Morgan said, crossing his heart.

“Derek,” Garcia chided, slapping his arm softly, “her name is, Y/N and she’s about to become my new best friend.”

Spencer smiled as Morgan and Prentiss jumped in, each arguing as to why you were more likely to be their best friend. It comforted his nerves, knowing how much his friends already cared about you. It made sense, after all they’d been listening to him talk about you for months now. In fact, it was Garcia’s idea for him to go back to that coffee shop in the first place. He’d never been more nervous than he was that day, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and hoping you didn’t think he was an absolute creep for getting the order right.

Luckily, you hadn’t, and that had been the start of the most agonizing few months of his life. They were incredible, of course, because you were incredible, but he’d also never felt more out of his depth. He’d had crushes before but with you things felt different, more urgent somehow, like the clock was ticking his time with you away. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn’t right for you, that he worked too much and kept you waiting and never had enough time, and he was just waiting for you to get fed up with waiting on him. Maybe it was because you were so wonderful that it didn’t make sense for someone to not be crazy about you, someone who could give you everything you deserved, someone who definitely wasn’t Spencer. Either way, every moment he had with you was precious, which is why he’d waited so long to introduce you to the BAU. He may have been an adult but, in his heart, Spencer Reid was still an only child and he’d never been good at sharing.

His phone beeped.

Hey! I’m outside...come say hi?

“Shhh!” Spencer said, his heart jumping into his throat as he waved his arms around to silence his friends, “everyone shut up! She’s here.”

Garcia squealed, “Really?”

“Be cool, babygirl,” Morgan smiled, “what are you waiting for, Lover Boy? Go get her!”

Spencer fought down a smile, “Okay, let’s go over the rules: no talking about work, no making her feel weird, no mentioning me talking about her, no inviting her to join the FBI for no reason and no embarrassing stories. Got it?”

“You’ve got it,” Prentiss promised, “like Morgan said, best behavior.”

Garcia looked like she was about to explode with excitement, but she nodded anyway and Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving Spencer a wink as he did.

“Deep breaths, kid,” he said softly, “it’s gonna be fine.”

Spencer nodded and pushed himself up out of the booth, shooting his friends a double thumbs up as he half walked, half jogged his way to the front of the bar.

When he saw you he froze for a second, his heart literally stuttering in his chest as he took you in. You were beautiful, the small part of his brain that was still functioning supplied, so beautiful that it actually hurt to look at you. He thought he’d be used to the way you made him feel by now but, whether it was the distance or some other magic unique to you, every single time still hit him like a ton of bricks and he was suddenly twelve years old again.

Just then you spotted him, and your face lit up with happiness, shocking Spencer back into action. You rushed over and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in your hair, breathe in your soft, fruity smell and relish in the sudden rush of comfort he felt being in your arms again.

“Spencer!” You cheered as you broke apart, holding onto his forearms and looking him up and down, “Oh my goodness, look at you! You look so nice.”

“Look at me? Look at you!” He responded, trying not to let on how hard he’d tried putting his outfit together, “Not bad for someone on the very brink of starvation.”

“Ah, you flatter me,” you joked, letting him go and adjusting your purse strap.

Spencer noticed the way you were shifting on your feet and fiddling with the hem of your jacket and he felt his heart pinch.

“Hey,” he said, “are you nervous?”

You laughed breathlessly, “That obvious, huh?” You smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, I just want to make a good impression. This is your family, I want them to like me.”

Spencer bumped your shoulder with his, a rush of happiness bubbling up in his chest at the way you said family. He’d never told you that about the BAU, you’d just known. Just like you’d known a million little things about him that he’d never thought anyone would ever know. Just like you’d known on that first day that he needed someone to talk to. You just knew, and wasn’t that it’s own sort of genius?

“They’re gonna love you,” he assured, injecting sincerity into every word, “trust me.”

You nodded and took a deep breath in, steeling yourself against your nerves and forcing on a smile, “okay. I’m ready.”

And with that, Spencer walked you in. As soon as you stepped into the bar he felt your muscles tense. It was a small bar, cosy and warm, with a stage and a microphone set up for karaoke.

“It’s a karaoke bar?” You hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was a karaoke bar!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Spencer shrugged, “here we are.”

“Y/N!” Garcia greeted, jumping up, “Hi! I mean, hello! I’m Garci-Penelope! I’m Penelope!”

Spencer smiled as he felt your muscles relax and Garcia pulled you into a hug. You laughed, but responded just as enthusiastically.

“Hi! I-uh-I guess you all know my name then,” you grinned.

“Oh shoot,” Garcia said, “sorry, I broke a rule.”

Spencer shot her a panicked look, flushing bright red as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t mind Garcia,” Prentiss cut in, rescuing Spencer from having to explain, “we're all just really glad to meet you. I’m Emily.”

She reached out to shake your hand and, with that, you took a seat next to Spencer and normal conversation resumed. Morgan and Garcia launched back into their banter while Emily asked questions about your job and when you’d moved to the city. It was easy and normal and...so, so strange.

Spencer was almost painfully aware of how close you were; your leg brushing his under the table, your shoulder nudging his with every little movement you made. He tried to stay focused on what was going on at the table, tried to follow the conversation and add value, but he couldn’t keep the stories straight. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Spencer was completely lost in the unbelievable happiness of having all the people he cared about in one place.

At some point during the night, an immeasurable amount of time later, Morgan bought drinks. That was a mistake. It was a mistake because now you were tipsy and your head was on his shoulder and Spencer thought his head might actually explode with the effort of not blurting out how much he liked you right then and there. You were laughing at something Emily had said, just chuckling like it was the most natural thing in the world and Spencer felt his heart literally swell.

“We should sing!” Garcia said suddenly.

You gasped, slapping Spencer’s thigh with excitement, your whole face lighting up like it was christmas.

“Yes! Yes yes yes! We should sing!” You agreed, “Don’t you think, Spence?? Don’t you think we should sing?”

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “No! No, I don’t sing. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Pleeeeaaaaase?” You whined, turning to face him fully and fluttering your eyelashes, “please, Spence?”

Damn those eyes, he thought to himself, feeling his skin flush under the weight of your stare. Maybe this would be easier if he was drunk. He couldn’t say no to you at the best of times but, when you’re pouting at him like that, with full puppy dog eyes? Oh yeah, he was beyond putty in your hands. Spencer could practically taste Morgan’s smug look.

He rolled his eyes fondly, giving in to the inevitable, “What would we even sing?”

Somehow, your smile grew infinitely bigger and Spencer’s heart did that thing where it jumped into his throat and stuttered at the same time.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” You turned to Garcia, “Well? You coming, ‘Nel?”

“You betcha!” Garcia smiled, pulling you up and towards the stage.

At the last second you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s hand, laughing your head off as you went. His skin felt like it was on fire where you touched him, little shocks of electricity running through every inch of skin that touched yours. It was a little ridiculous really, how quickly Spencer lost his head when you touched him. All that genius, all those years of schooling sharpening his mind into a finely crafted machine and all he could think about was the feeling of skin on skin, and the smell of your hair.

The stage was sticky. The microphone was pitchy and jarring. Everything was way too much, and completely dull at the same time because all he could see was you. You and Garcia were hunched over a screen, laughing and talking as you picked a song. The music started and you grabbed the microphone, smiling over at him like it was nothing. Spencer knew he should be nervous, he should be hating every second of being up on stage in front of a group of strangers but, for some reason, he wasn’t. He was happy and calm and like ten other adjectives that almost never described him in the hours after a case, but that seemed to follow you around like a shadow.

You opened your mouth, too drunk to be properly singing, but still sober enough to be almost on key, “Here’s the thing, We started off friends-”

Garcia joined in, “It was cool but it was all prete-end, yeah yeah,”

“Since you been gone!”

You waved him over and Spencer followed, letting you point out the screen where the words appeared line by line. To be in front of the mic, Spencer had to lean in towards you and woah that’s close. He could count every single eyelash and see individual flakes of glitter against your skin, but he pushed the image down, tucking it away into the back of his mind somewhere for him to take out again when he was alone. All this happened in a split second, just long enough for Spencer to remember where he was and snap back into the present.

“You dedicated, you took the time,” The three of you sang together, trying to stifle laughter when Garcia tried to harmonize, “It wasn’t long before I called you mi-ine, yeah yeah, Since you been gone!”

You closed your eyes, throwing your head back as you sang and drawing Spencer in even closer.

“And all you’d ever hear me say Is how I picture me with you! That’s all you’d ever hear me say!”

You opened your eyes, turning to Garcia as the music swelled.

“But since you been gone! I can breathe for the fiiiiiirst tiiiiiiime, I’m so moving on, YEAH YEAH” you screamed together, even Spencer giving into the music for a moment, “Thanks to you! Now I get! I get what I waaaaaaaant! Since you been gone!”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and, when he did, you met his eye and followed suit, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laughed together, Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you up so that you could support Garcia as her back up singers. It was silly and goofy and fun, and Spencer didn’t really want it to end because it meant he could be close to you. It meant he had a reason to be close to you that wasn’t just his own selfishness and it felt like you wanted to be close to him too.

As the song came to an end and Garcia warbled out a final, “since you been gone”, Spencer found himself just looking at you, something thrumming just below the surface in his chest. His arm was still around your waist, just a friend supporting another friend, that’s all, totally innocent. Except that it wasn’t because he was looking at you like you were salvation and he could feel it happening, he just didn’t care. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it? It was obvious that he loved you. He’d maybe always loved you, ever since that day at the coffee shop and maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay that he loved you even though he didn’t deserve you because, well, you knew him. You knew Spencer in a way that only one or two people in his entire life had ever known him and you still seemed to like him, you still looked at him like he was something special and precious.

Garcia pulled you both off the stage, bowing to the smattering of applause from the crowd and the whoops and hollers from the table where his friends were sitting. Instinctively, Spencer tugged you back, shooting Garcia an apologetic look, which she accepted with a nod and a subtle smile. His heart was in his throat but, when you turned and looked back at him, tilting your head in confusion, he felt sure.

“Hey-uh-can we-” he paused, smiling sheepishly as he felt himself flush, “can we talk, quickly?”

You frowned, concerned, but nodded and let him pull you aside, and Spencer loved you so much for it that he wanted to scream. Looking around, he managed to spy a somewhat empty corner of the bar, far enough away from the stage that you’d be able to talk without having to raise your voice. It wasn’t perfect, if he’d known-well-if he’d known how tonight was going to go he would have planned something more romantic, but he didn’t and the idea of knowing how he felt and not telling you about it made him feel sick. Because it all made sense now, the sense of urgency, the way his crush on you had never felt like a crush, the way one conversation with you felt just like three hours of uninterrupted reading. It all made sense and he needed you to know, right now, before he got called away on another case and you were apart for God knows how long. He needed you to know.

“Spence?” You asked as soon as you were in the corner, “What’s going on, did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! No-Y/N-you’re-” he started, forcing himself out of his head and back into the moment, “you’ve been incredible. You are incredible, which is sort of what I wanted us to talk about-or-no not exactly?” he rambled, his thoughts and feelings tripping and stumbling over one another in an attempt to find just the right combination of words for the way he was feeling, “I mean it is-you are-but I realised that you’ve always-ugh, sorry-”

“Hey,” you chuckled gently, taking one of his hands in both of yours, “it’s okay, just slow down. We’re not all super geniuses, you know?”

Spencer paused, taking a deep breath and letting his thoughts catch up with one another. God, you really were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, some part of him noted, and your smile….When you smiled at him like you were right then, like he was the only person in the room, like there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there in that dingy karaoke bar, all his fears just kind of...went away. He could still feel them, if he really tried, but they were distant, locked up in another room, behind a metal door with a padlock on it. They were so far away and you were so close and wasn’t that more important?

“I’m in love with you,” he heard himself say, “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I know that-I know that you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not trying to pressure you, or force you to do anything, I just thought you should know because-because it’s the truth, and I think you deserve the truth.” he paused, wishing that he could gauge some sort of reaction besides the slight widening of your eyes, “And the truth is that I’m in love with you, Y/N, and-”

Thankfully, you kissed him before he had to figure out how to finish that sentence. He barely had time to notice you leaning in before your lips were on his, soft and sure, like you were answering a question, or saying a prayer. Everything else faded away, nothing was as important as you and, without even thinking, Spencer kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Your fingers threaded through his hair and he sighed against your lips, some small part of his brain wondering if kissing was supposed to feel this good. Had it ever felt like this before? Had he ever wanted like this before? No, not until you. Because you were different, you’d always been different and, if the way you whispered his name against his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip was anything to go by, you’d always been his, and he just hadn’t known it.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in your arms with the burnt sugar taste of your lips on his tongue, but eventually you had to break apart, even if it was only to breathe. Thankfully, you stayed close, resting your forehead against Spencer’s as you basked in the moment.

“I-love you too,” you chuckled breathlessly, “in case that much wasn’t blatantly obvious.”

“You know, I’d like to say I had a hunch,” he responded, “but I really didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning forward to press another, much gentler kiss to his lips, “What, you thought I dressed like this for Morgan?”

There was something sinful about being able to let his eyes trace your body like this so openly, something private and intimate that made Spencer want to blush.

“I-uh-I tried very hard not to think about who you dressed like that for, actually,” he admitted, and then quickly continued, “not that you dress a specific way for anybody, or that there’s anything wrong if you do it’s just-you know-women can dress how they like, and there’s nothing intrinsically identifiable in the way a woman dresses that allows a person to truly know what she wants or doesn’t want. Not that you want anything, I just-”

You cut him off with another kiss and Spencer melted into it gratefully. He could feel you smiling into the kiss and, for once, he was grateful for his rambling. For once, Spencer Reid couldn’t think of a single thing he’d change about himself, because you loved him and that was too good a thing for him to want to mess with.

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes

#jordsie #jordsie writes #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanons #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x you

582 notes · View notes

fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Text

First Date/First Time w/ Mobster!Paz

AN: Alright everyone here is the first installment of Mobster!Paz passed what I have written for asks! I decided to combine these two prompts because 1-I could and 2- because things having been going good for me lately I wanted to celebrate with something nice! Just fyi this was not beta'd or even just read through so if there is mistakes let me know, but I will probably read through it and fix them at some point soon! I hope you enjoy!

Materlist and Tag/Idea Submission Form

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: AFAB!reader but no real pronouns used, no Y/N, slight descriptions of violence but noting extreme, SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, P in V, no protection used (wrap it before you tap it guys, gals, and nonbinary pals), excessive use of the nickname doll

You had been working as a waitress at The Palace speakeasy for the notorious Boba Fett for roughly three months when your favorite customer, known muscle of The Children of the Watch, Paz Vizsla finally asked you on a date. The two of you had been dancing around each other and your feelings since that first meeting your first week working in the speakeasy. Your first time meeting the man had left you overwhelmed with so many feelings that you hadn’t been able to sort through, but one thing you had recognized was just how happy Paz had made you, leaving you with a smile that wouldn’t leave your face for the following days.

When you had started working at The Palace you had thought that you were going to be surrounded by the lowest of low lifes and the grossest men and women alive, and while yes you were surrounded by the lowest of lows, you did soon find out that these criminals all had a code and they treated you fairly for the most part. Of course you had the occasional rowdy customer, but they were delt with swiftly by those at the surrounding tables. One thing was for sure though, when one of the big three of The Children of the Watch were present somewhere in the building people were more cautious and well behaved, not wanting to get on any of their bad sides, and you realized why when one day a rowdy customer had gotten in your personal space and Paz had been sitting in his usual booth sipping his drink. You barely had time to blink before the customer had been ripped away from you by a large hand and slammed them into a nearby table in a show of strength that had you biting your lip and you clenching your thighs in arousal. Paz had only turned to you as he held the man down on the table by his neck and smiled at you before winking and telling you, “I’ll be right back doll, why don’t you go take a break and I will meet you back at my table?”

After that incident you had realized what all those feelings you were having for the dangerous man were, and when he was able to come into to speakeasy after it became harder and harder to keep your eyes away from him. And every time you glanced his way you always found him leaning back in his seat with his drink in hand watching you, and when your eyes met he would always send a smile your way with a wink that never failed to heat rise in your face. And he would always make your heart jump through hurdles when he offered to walk you home each time with earnest eyes and a kind smile. How could you not feel something for the man when he treats you as if you hung the stars in the sky and with respect that few women ever receive?

So when one night he stopped you at your door after walking you home, you were shocked and overjoyed when he asked you if you were free for lunch Saturday with a shy smile while rubbing the back of his neck. You had bit your lip and nodded giving him a breathless yes. His shy smile turned into a broad smile and he had reached out for your hand kissing the back of it before telling you, "I'll come and pick you up here at 11 am sharp, doll. I’d tell you to dress your best, but I know you look good in whatever you wear.” With that, he kissed your palm with a wink before backing away and as he walked away from your home he was whistling a tune that was all his own.

Saturday found you waking up early, excited about what was to come with a giddy smile adorning your face. You had made yourself a small quick breakfast to eat as you got ready for your date, not wanting to eat anything too big as to spoil the food you would eat with Paz and so that you would have more time to perfect your appearance.

You started with your hair, making sure to style it perfectly and making sure to double-check that every hair was in the correct place. The longest part of getting ready was applying your makeup meticulously, you didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, but you wanted to look like you had put effort into your look. Then you made sure to pick out your favorite bra and panty set, not because you were expecting anything untoward to happen between you and Paz, but because the set made you feel pretty and confident. Now it was nearing closer and closer to the time Paz was to pick you up, and you couldn’t for the life of you decide what outfit you wanted to wear. You didn’t want to wear something too casual, but you also didn’t want to wear something that was too dressy. You bit your lip and agonized over your options for what felt like forever before you decided on an outfit that you had worn previously in front of Paz and you had noticed how his eyes had drunk in your silhouette multiples times throughout that evening. And it seemed you had made your decision in the knick of time because as soon as you had pulled on your clothes and righted everything, you heard a knock on the door.

You had rushed to the door and yelled out, “Coming!” as soon as you were close enough. Once you reached the door you took a second to take a deep breath before opening the door with a wide smile. On the other side of the door stood the hulking figure of Paz Vizsla who was wearing a charming smile as well as pressed dress pants and a matching suit jacket with a beautiful wine red turtle neck underneath. You watched as his eyes soaked up the sight of you as you whispered out a shy, hello. He moved his eyes to meet yours before pulling his hand from his side where he held a bouquet of the prettiest flowers you had ever seen and he held it out to you saying, “Doll, I would have dressed up more if I had known I was going to be escorting the prettiest girl in the city.”

Taking the bouquet with a giggle you motioned him inside as you went to find a vase for the flowers he had brought you. Paz had followed you into the house, shutting the door and taking in your small home the best he could, while also watching you flit about filling the vase you had found and placing the flowers on your kitchen counter with a soft smile as you leaned down to smell the soft fragrance that flowed from the flowers. When you turned around, you had found Paz standing behind you with a smile so perfect and happy that you could look at it for hours, but you had only shook your head and told him, “You say that, but here you are wearing a suit.”

Paz chuckled and held out his arm for you to take, asking if you were ready. Nodding you wrapped your hand around his arm and let him lead you from your home.

Being in Paz’s company had always been easy and flowed nicely, even with all the tension flowing between the two of you. The date was much of the same, and even though it was technically your first date with the man, it seemed as if this was more of your 12th with how much the two of you had spent sitting together in the corner of the speakeasy and the late nights he had walked you home. Nothing was different really, other than the time of day and the location of where the two of you were together.

Paz, rather than driving, had taken to walking with you a short distance to a small restaurant that you had not even realized was there. When the two of you had walked into the quaint little building, you were taken aback by the man who you assumed to be the owner yelling out Paz’s name loudly and coming over to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. The two chatted like old friends for a minute before Paz had turned to you and told the man, “This here is my girl, and I was wondering if you might happen to have a table open towards the back for the two of us for the lunch?”

The man smiled at you and shook your hand as you introduced yourself before he turned back to Paz and said, “For you my friend there is always a table open, and I am honored you would bring your lovely date to my restaurant.” As soon as the man had finished he had turned around motioning for the two of you to follow him as he led you towards the back where the tables were a bit more secluded. Paz had walked around the table and pulled out the chair for you to sit in with a chivalrous smile, before crossing over to his seat across from you. Menus were handed to you as soon as you both were settled and the owner had told you both, “Holler if you need anything, whatever you want we will provide,” and with a smile, he left you in the hands of a waiter.

Lunch went by smoothly, not that you didn’t think it would, and the food was absolutely delicious. And you had to admit that sharing the slice of cheesecake had been the best part of the entire lunch, Paz had taken the fork from your hand and with a smile had fed you bites of the dessert with a smile. You had noticed about halfway through the slice, that Paz’s eyes darkened every time you wrapped your lips around the fork, and suddenly the entire restaurant had felt warm as you watched the muscles in his arms move as he brought the fork to your lips. When you had finished the dessert the two of you had sat in silence for a few minutes just watching each other and every time you made eye contact you couldn’t help but to rub your legs together at how he was eyeing you with a fiery gaze that made heat pool in your belly and feel guilty.

By the time the two of you had walked out of the restaurant, it was late afternoon and Paz had walked at a slower pace towards your house, trying to drag out the time the two of you spent together. The walk home was silent and tense from how your meal had ended, but it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just you didn’t want to part from Paz so soon. So when your house had come into view you couldn’t stop the sad feeling that had washed over you. From the way, Paz’s shoulder’s dropped when you got to the steps of your home you figured Paz felt much the same about parting so early.

When the two of you stopped in front of your door, you turned to Paz biting your lip, contemplating inviting him in. You stood there for a minute and as you looked up at him and opened your lips to ask him about coming in you were immediately interrupted by Paz leaning down and connecting your lips with his own. He kissed you for a few seconds, and you were so shocked that you couldn’t process what was happening until he pulled back and rushed out, “I’m sorry doll, but I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day and I just couldn’t stop myself. I am so-” This time you didn’t let him finish as you reached up and pulled him down to kiss him. The kiss started sweet, but you soon found yourself pressed against your door with leg wedged between your own and pressing against you where you felt yourself throbbing with need for the man that was pressing closer to you every second. You couldn’t help the small mewl that escaped your lips as he bounced his leg against you slightly, then you felt him pull back from the kiss far enough so that he could speak, though with every word you could still feel his lips brushing against your own.

“Doll, tell me to stop or let me inside, please. I know this is just our first date, doll but I can’t help but want you in every way that I know I shouldn’t…”

You could feel his heavy breaths on your cheek as you turned your head and whimpered. Biting your lip you traced your nose along his jawline before you ground down against his leg and whispered breathlessly, “Please Paz, please take me inside. I want you too…”

Paz took a second to look into your eyes before he suddenly picked you up bridal style and threw open your door, and all you could do was let out a squeal of surprise and wrap your hands around his neck. As soon as Paz kicked the door shut he asked you where the bedroom was. You hadn’t even finished telling him when he took off in that direction, stopping only once to push you against the wall and start kissing you again, though this time he pressed his tongue against your lips until you opened your mouth and allowed him to explore every nook and cranny, memorizing the feel of your mouth with a groan.

By the time you both made it to the bed, you were breathless and your chest was heaving, which only cause Paz to groan and bury his face in your neck as he groped your breasts over your clothing making you mewl with him as your hardened nipples start to show through your bra. Then Paz pulled back and before you could even whine from the loss of his body he was asking you, “Doll will you strip for me? I wanna watch as you reveal that beautiful body to me, doll.”

You gave him a shaky nod and slowly started stripping down. It was sloppy and most likely far from sexy, but hearing Paz’s sharp intakes of breath at each new patch of skin revealed to him made you feel confident. So when you were left in your bra and panties you walked over to where Paz had settled himself on the edge of the bed, noticing the very prominent bulge in his pants. You bit your lip as you stopped in front of Paz and before Paz could even think to touch you, you reach forward pushed his suit jacket off of his shoulders, and pushed it onto the floor. You leaned down and kissed his nose softly as he watched you with hungry eyes, then you reached for his shirt and Paz helped you pull it off and toss it aside. Then Paz flipped you over onto your back, as he started kissing and sucking marks onto your chest and neck as he kicked off his shoes. Too caught up in the feeling of his mouth leaving his mark on your body, you didn’t realize Paz had stripped completely down until you felt something hot, har, and heavy fall against your thigh. When you glanced down you saw his large cock resting against your skin and leaking precum steadily. You felt yourself clench at the sight and you moaned out his name as you bucked up. In response, Paz gripped your waist and pulled away from the mark he had just left on your breast before he moved his lips to your ear and whispered huskily, “Patience doll. As much as I would like to just take you right this instant, I need to prep you to take me. I am anything but a small man.”

You whined and said, “please Paz,” but he had only hushed you and kissed his way down your body, taking your bra and panties off as he goes. When he reached where you ached for him he hummed and turned to kiss up and down each of your thighs, holding you in place so you didn’t move around on him. After he had left what he deemed to be an acceptable mark on both of your inner thighs, he finally looked at you before he nuzzled against your throbbing clit before taking it into his mouth. The shout of please you let out only made him smile and swirl his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Paz continued to taste and tease you at a slow leisurely pace that had you a moaning mess. Then he pressed a finger into you and you swear that you saw heaven as he started to move his finger in and out of you at the same pace as his mouth.

It didn’t take Paz long for him to add a second finger or even a third. Soon he had you practically sobbing from the pleasure he was giving. And as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the precipice, you tried to warn him but your lips couldn’t form any words past Paz’s name. So when Paz angled his fingers up and finally pushed you over the edge you could only let out a broken sob of Paz’s name that ended in a silent scream as Paz continued to move his fingers inside of you and mouth unhurriedly against your clit. When he finally pulled away from you you felt as if he had taken every bone in your body with him. You laid there limp on his bed trying to catch your breath from the orgasm Paz had just gifted you. Paz stood up slowly and hissed as he pumped his painfully aching cock a few times.

When you came back to yourself it was to the sight of Paz standing between your spread legs gripping the base of his cock and his face shiny from saliva and your cum. Moaning at his somewhat wrecked appearance, you saw Paz’s eyes jump up to meet your own before he leaned over you and gave you a slow sweet kiss. When he pulled back from the kiss he slow asked, “Think you’re up for more doll? Maybe something bigger?”

At his words, you could only nod with a broken please passing your lips as you bucked your hips up against his own. Paz obviously didn’t need to be told twice as he immediately reached down and lined himself up with you before pressing his cock into you. Paz went slowly and you gripped his shoulders whimpering as your walls stretched around his girth. It wasn’t necessarily painful but the farther he pressed into you the more it stung. When you finally felt him bottom out and press his hips against yours, the both of you sighed. Paz stayed seated in you for a few minutes until he felt your walls relax around him slightly, then he started pulling out slightly, grinning when he hear you whimper in his ear. When he only had the head of his cock still buried inside of you he started pushing back inside of you just as slowly with a groan, grunting out, “Fuck doll, you’re so tight, holding onto my cock like you don’t wanna let it go. Fu-uck I could stay inside of you forever…”

After a few of the slow thrusts, you started to while and buck up against him, so Paz picked up his speed and set a steady pace that had you moaning and mewling in his ear. Paz fucked into you steadily not changing anything other than where he was aiming, trying to find that spot that had you clench so tightly against his finger not long ago. He knew the second he found it as you threw your head back and your eyes rolled back as you begged him to hit it again. Paz felt himself getting closer to his end so he picked up the pace making sure to hit that spot inside of you as often as he could. He knew you were getting close with how you were tightening around him and moaning out his name over and over, so he reached down and pressed his thumb to your clit and started circling it groaning out, “Doll, please, oh fuck, please cum all over my cock. God, please cum on my cock, doll.”

From the mixture of Paz’s thrusts hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars, his fingers massaging your clit, and his encouragement you felt him throw you over the edge yet again, but this time you really did feel yourself scream and clutch onto his shoulders. Then you felt Paz’s thrust start to get sloppy and you could hear his grunts with every thrust into your oversensitive walls. Then he suddenly pulled out of you and pumped his cock with his hand only once before he was cumming all over your thighs and pussy with his head thrown back and his hand pumping himself until he stopped cumming.

When Paz opened his eyes and looked over your spent body he groaned and told you, “Doll you are the prettiest thing I have ever seen, and the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Then he leaned up and kissed your forehead right as you felt yourself dowing off in the aftermath of the two earthshattering orgasms Paz had given you. When you had come out of your trace it was to Paz cleaning your body off with a washcloth and him telling you to rest, he would take care of you. So you did just that, trusting Paz, you fell asleep content and happy. When you had woken up a few hours later, you found yourself cuddled into his side and you smiled as you watch the man that you had seen break noses and throw people around like rag dolls sleep peacefully while holding you close. Smiling you you cuddled into his side and allowed yourself to fall back into a peaceful sleep, feeling completely safe and content.

Tags: @fuckyeahbeskar @katie-sheep-111 @phoenixhalliwell @maybege

Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your feedback! Likes and REBLOGS are super appreciated!!

#paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader #afab!reader #mobster!paz vizsla #mobster!paz #boba fett #mobster au

89 notes · View notes

morningfears · 4 years

Text

Drag Me Down

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18!

Summary: You and hockey player!Calum have an interesting relationship. Is it flirting? Is it harmless fun? Regardless of what it is, it landed you an ice skating lesson that ends in so much more than a new skill. (Featuring prompts [yes, I’m still writing those] 1 and 3 for @thesubtweeter | Semi-public sex? (I mean, the rink is empty but in an ice rink)

Word Count: 6k

As unusual as it was, even for a Saturday morning, the campus ice rink was empty. It sat devoid of life and silent, save for the sound of your shoes hitting the concrete floor, and you clutched your jacket a little tighter to your body as you felt a chill rush over you. Though you’d only been in the building a handful of times, and only ever on game days, it was cooler than you’d ever felt - something you attributed to the lack of occupants milling about the vast space - and you almost regretted the outfit you’d chosen for your meeting (you weren’t sure that you could call it a date, though you desperately wanted it to be one) with Calum.

You felt slightly self-conscious, dressed in a black skater skirt with a white t-shirt tucked in and a jean jacket a friend had painted for you thrown over top, and wished you’d gone for something more practical - like jeans, maybe a nice sweater - but when you spotted Calum leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs, you didn’t have much time to agonize over your decision. He was dressed comfortably, in a pair of black jeans and the green Empathy hoodie you longed to steal from him, and watched as you crossed the empty space to meet him. It was then, the look he gave you - a slight raise of his eyebrows, a quick swipe of his tongue over his lips, a ghost of a smirk - that made you decide that, no, you didn’t regret your choice at all.

You wouldn’t admit it, not out loud, but if it got Calum to look at you like that, you would gladly put up with any amount of frozen limbs.

You felt a slight charge in the air as you approached him. It was an ever present tension, always there whenever you were around Calum, and it was almost too much for you to handle. The air felt thick with electricity, an underlying current that made your heart begin to beat just a bit faster and the butterflies begin to swirl in the pit of your stomach as goosebumps pricked at your skin. It was instantaneous, the only response to his gaze you seemed to be capable of, and you were both aware of it.

Your head felt muddled with too many thoughts, all of them about Calum, and time seemed to slow as you closed the remaining gap between the two of you. You finally stood close enough to smell his cologne, a scent so heavily associated with Calum that you’d never again be able to smell it without thinking of him, and lost yourself in your proximity.

You hated the effect that he had on you, that he was able to turn you into a lovesick fool with one glance in your direction, because you honestly had no idea where you stood with him. Some days you imagined he liked you as much as you liked him, that he caught a whiff of your perfume and felt his heart pound in his chest and his cheeks heat with a bright pink flush. Others, you wondered if he was just enjoying toying with you because there was no way he could be as interested in you as you were in him.

On those days, the days where your thoughts ran in an unpleasant direction, you reminded yourself that Calum wasn’t like that. Though he was one of your university’s most well-loved hockey players, one of the team’s stars since his freshman season, and a well-loved figure on campus, he was genuinely a good guy. He had a big heart, bursting with love, and would never string you along.

Not when you made it so fucking obvious just how head over heels you were for him.

Although Calum was friends with almost everyone, and at least respected by those he wasn’t friends with, you never imagined that you’d find yourself counted amongst them. You ran in completely different circles, lived completely different lives, but the universe had thrown you together in Chemistry 101 and, well, who were you to question the universe?

You were almost ashamed to admit it but when you first met, on the first day of your chemistry lab, you expected Calum to leave all of the work to you. Although you found him attractive - your friends joked that they’d never seen you stare at anything that wasn’t a textbook that long - you assumed he’d be like everyone else, quickly realizing that you were a stickler for good grades and taking advantage of that. You assumed he’d be another asshole, ashamed to be seen even looking in your direction, however, you were sorely mistaken.

Calum was smart, brilliant, even, and driven. He worked just as hard as you did on lab reports and put in an equal amount of effort every time the pair of you put your heads together to figure out a new set of problems. You divided the out of class activities evenly and met an hour before lab to finishing compiling the work into one cohesive document. He took his studies seriously, just as you did, and you felt guilty for assuming the worst.

What made you feel even worse, though, was that you’d assumed the worst of him as a person, too.

You’d been paired with athletes before, football and basketball and baseball and soccer players, that were all incredibly difficult to deal with. They never spoke to you unless it was to ask for the answers to the online quizzes and you felt certain that Calum was going to be the same. But, to your surprise, he was incredibly easy to get along with.

He was quiet for the first few classes, observing you as you worked and only really commenting on the lab work, but when he figured you out - you later realized that that was what he’d been doing, deciphering you as if you were some sort of puzzle - he threw you for a loop.

Your relationship began with teasing remarks, little jabs here and there about how cute it was to hear the good girl swear when you made a mistake or how much he liked flustering you whenever he sat a little closer than normal, and pet names. You wondered, briefly, if those were just because he’d forgotten your name but that thought was erased when he wrote it at the top of a lab report before tossing it into the pile on the professor’s desk.

He’d been doing it for months and though you couldn’t exactly say you’d gotten used to it - hearing him call you ‘pretty girl’ or tease you for saying ‘fuck’ wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you got used to -, you’d come to expect it. His words still made your heart race and your face heat, especially as he seemed to grow bolder and bolder with each week that passed, but you knew that you’d miss whatever the pair of you had the moment it was gone.

You wanted to believe that he was genuinely flirting with you, that the compliments and pet names meant something, and that he had a genuine interest in you but your insecurities sometimes got the better of you and you wondered if he just enjoyed watching you trip over your own tongue whenever he got particularly bold. He could’ve had anyone, anyone at all, so why would he choose you?

But, as you attempted to ground yourself in the present, you realized that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask that question and risk putting an end to him doting on you. So, whatever it was that linked the pair of you, you resigned yourself to simply settling in for the ride and letting whatever was going to happen, happen.

And spending the day alone with Calum was what was happening.

You liked to believe that ending up in an empty ice rink with Calum was the universe, once again, meddling in your life. You hadn’t planned this, you’d intended to spend your day off on your couch with a bowl of popcorn and a bad movie, but those plans had gone up in smoke (not that you really minded) when you mentioned wanting to learn to ice skate as you and Calum waited for your professor to hand out the week’s lab assignment.

He’d spotted the bruises on your knees from a fall you’d taken at the roller rink, a collision with an overly ambitious teenager, and spent a solid few minutes teasing you - “You sure that’s what happened? Hm. If you say so, pretty girl.” - before accepting your explanation. As your cheeks burned from the insinuation (and the few fantasies that managed to nestle into the darkest gutters of your mind), he’d asked, “Do you just roller skate or can you ice skate?”

When you lamented your inability to ice skate, or inline skate, and expressed a desire to learn, Calum wore the brightest smile you’d ever seen. It was beautiful, truly happy and almost giddy with excitement, and you committed it to memory without even noticing. “Meet me at the rink on Saturday,” he instructed, “I’ll teach you.”

You were rendered speechless, surprised that he wanted to spend time with you out of class, and didn’t register that it wasn’t a question (though you both knew your answer would’ve been yes if it was). You nodded dumbly, too awed to dwell on the fear you held for ice skating, as you watched him take the assignment sheet from your professor. “I’ve got a friend who has some skates you can borrow.” He paused then, his eyes narrowing and his lips curling into a smirk, before he added, “This’ll give you an excuse to hold my hand.”

Though he said it jokingly, you both knew that his words held nothing but truth; you would’ve jumped at the opportunity to touch him - or have him touch you - and here he was, handing it to you without a second thought.

The moment you left lab that day, you were a mess of emotions. You were ecstatic, thrilled to be seeing Calum outside of class, and surprised that he wanted to see more of you. But, beneath your excitement, you were petrified. You always had an out, a solid limit to the amount of time you spent together, and you were worried that with no clock ticking away the minutes, you would do or say something that broke whatever spell Calum had to be under. You were nervous, unsure of what you could talk about and what he was expecting of you. You were also nervous about being on the ice.

You knew that you were going to spend your morning falling on your ass, in front of the man who occupied most of your thoughts, as your balance was shaky even as you stood on solid ground. And this was the first time Calum would be seeing you outside of class and the occasional game. He was used to seeing you dressed down, casual and comfortable for a long day of classes or after work, so you wanted to make a good impression.

The knee high socks you usually reserved for street skating and the heeled boots that you’d only worn a handful of times weren’t exactly practical but practicality was not on the agenda for the day.

The silence between you only lasted for a moment but as your thoughts moved at the speed of light, it seemed to drag on forever. Calum took his time drinking in the sight of you, his eyes lingering on the exposed expanse of thigh, and you tried not to let him see how nervous you really were as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and waited for him to speak.

“You didn’t have to get so dressed up for me.” His voice held the teasing lilt you loved to hear, an amused tone that told you he took joy in the way your cheeks heated and your eyes dropped from his chest to the floor. “But you look cute, pretty girl. I like the socks.” Your flush deepened as you snuck a look at him from beneath your lashes and caught sight of the smirk that looked like it belonged on his face. After a beat of silence, of waiting for you to retort with something witty - a feat that you had yet to manage, though you desperately wanted to throw him off his game at least once -, he reached into his bag and handed you a pair of skates. “Here. These should fit you.”

He watched, his eyes shining in the bright rink lights, as you studied the pair of strawberry red ice skates - Moxi skates, the same as your roller skates - in your hands. When you grinned, he breathed a quiet laugh before turning and gesturing for you to follow him down the stairs. You trailed behind him, your eyes on his back as he headed for the bench, and only sat beside him when he patted the wood to his left.

He dropped his bag to the floor and pulled out his own skates, the hockey skates he wore with a sturdier boot and blade than the ones you were borrowing, before making quick work of lacing them up. Lacing your skates was the only ability you felt confident in so you worked alongside him, your fingers yanking the beige laces tight around your ankles, and failed to notice his gaze on you as you secured them.

“You could’ve had me on my knees.” When you shot him a bewildered look, your eyes wide and lips parted in confusion, Calum grinned and gestured to your skates. “I was going to be chivalrous and lace up your skates for you but it looks like you don’t need me,” he teased, a laugh leaving his lips as he watched you return to the task at hand and tie your laces in a bow. “But that’s alright. I can still dream of getting you on your knees.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning as you chose to ignore Calum’s teasing words, and shook your head to clear it as you pressed your feet into the floor to test the fit of your skates. “Lacing skates is the easy part,” you answered with a shrug. “It’s, well, everything else that I’m worried about.”

As he always seemed to do, Calum continued on like nothing out of the ordinary had been said and nodded as he stood from the bench. “I would lie and tell you that I won’t let you fall but you’ve been known to call me on my bullshit, so, I’ll try my best not to let you fall. How’s that?” He offered you his hand, a laugh leaving his lips as you wobbled upon standing, and you did your best to hide the pout you knew was coming.

“Doesn’t really make me hopeful that I won’t be leaving with a sprain of some sort or maybe a sliced off finger,” you mumbled, hands still clasped in his as you tried to find your footing on the mat by the bench, “but I appreciate the honesty. Alright, let’s do this. The faster I fall, the less afraid I’ll be. I think.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Calum began, his hands loosening their grip on yours as he took a half step back, “I could just let you go on your own, then. You could get a few falls in while I take a few laps and warm up.” He offered a nonchalant shrug, sparing a quick glance out at the ice, but you could tell that he was joking by the look in his eyes when he met your gaze once more and how his grip on your hands loosened but didn’t let go completely.

“Absolutely not.” You tried to sound stern, firm in your insistence that he remain by your side, but the words came out in a laugh as you tightened your hold on him. “If I go down,” you began as you lingered near the entrance to the ice, “I’m taking you with me.”

Calum laughed at your comment and shook his head as he watched you stare out at the ice with a concentrated frown on your lips. That was still fairly new, you were still finding your footing when it came to teasing him back, but it was welcome. He enjoyed it almost - but not quite - as much as making you blush.

He’d asked, as soon as the comments and little jabs started to veer into flirtier territory, if they made you uncomfortable. You’d assured him that they didn’t. When he asked for your permission to keep the comments coming, to keep flirting and teasing, you gave it to him enthusiastically.

You wouldn’t admit it, not out loud and not to Calum, but you loved the feeling his teasing brought you. You loved the burn you felt in your cheeks and the butterflies you felt in the pit of your stomach. You loved the way his shoulders lifted and he smirked after making you look away or lose your train of thought. You loved being left speechless, unable to do anything but giggle or bite your lip, and you knew that Calum loved it, too.

It was the best part of your week, and his, and you were both content with it being nothing more than a bit of fun - for the time being, anyway.

“If you wanted me on top of you, all you had to do was ask. Would’ve been much easier than all of this,” he said, gesturing out at the ice as he sent a teasing wink in your direction. He bit back his laughter as your gaze dropped to your feet and stepped out onto the ice, your hand still firmly in his grasp.

“Who says you’ll wind up on top?” It was said beneath your breath, a huff of words that you didn’t even have time to think about until they were already out of your mouth, but Calum heard you loud and clear. He raised his eyebrows, surprised by your retort, and laughed as he watched your eyes widen and your mouth drop open. “I… that’s not what I, I didn’t mean - fuck.”

“You didn’t mean fuck? Sure sounds like you did.” He knew what you meant, the smirk on his lips told you as much, but he was clearly enjoying watching you attempt to clarify your words. When you opened your mouth once again, only to find yourself unable to speak, he shook his head. “Relax, pretty girl.” His voice was soft, soothing but with an underlying hint of amusement, as he gestured for you to step out onto the ice. “I’m just messing with you. Come on, out on the ice. Don’t go stiff. Try to relax and don’t watch your feet.”

You tried to push the burning embarrassment you felt out of your mind as he pulled you out onto the ice, your hands intertwined as he skated backwards. He remained quiet, his eyes trained on you as you furrowed your brows in concentration and desperately tried to remind yourself not to stare at your feet. You tried to watch him, instead, and tried to copy his footwork but he made it look so effortless.

You struggled to stay standing and you were certain that you were holding Calum’s hands tight enough to cut off the circulation but he didn’t seem to mind. “Keep your knees bent and try to put your weight on the balls of your feet,” he instructed as he watched you attempt to shuffle your feet.

Calum bit back the teasing comments he wanted to make as he watched you attempt to keep your balance. You looked so focused and desperate to get it right that he didn’t want to shake the little bit of confidence you were managing to build. Instead, he said, “You missed the game last night.”

You nodded, slightly distracted as you tried not to lose your balance, and offered an apology. “I was planning on coming but I had to fill in for a coworker. Didn’t figure you’d miss me.” You shot him a smile, glancing at him from beneath your lashes, and he shook his head fondly.

“Can’t help it when the loudest supporter in the building isn’t here,” he teased. You felt your cheeks heat and you dipped your head to return your gaze to the ice as you allowed him to continue pulling you along.

It was no secret that you got into the games. It was almost expected that you and your roommate would be the loudest fans in attendance, ready to yell at any player or official or fan who stepped out of line, and he was right. It would be hard not to miss the pair of you.

“I just get passionate, okay?” You huffed a sigh, pretending to be annoyed by his teasing, but you’d heard from a mutual friend that he loved the support - and hearing you curse when someone hit him a little too hard - so you kept it up. “And, I mean, I need to get my aggression out somewhere.”

“Aggression?” Calum raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing that you were capable of any real aggression - your rants were never truly aggressive, never really angry, and always adorable to him, anyway -, and laughed as he nodded. “Sure. You’re aggressive and I’m the Queen.”

“Nice to meet you, Your Majesty.” Your words dripped with sarcasm but Calum’s face remained impassive as he watched your lips curl into a pout. “No one around here appreciates my sense of humor,” you grumbled, more for the sake of saying something than to actually complain.

“Your sense of humor is comprised of the worst puns known to man, jokes that only you understand, and sarcasm that you explain so you don’t hurt any feelings.” You gaped at him, feigning offense though you knew his description was accurate, and tugged your hands away from his grip.

“Wow. Okay, well, I think that’s my cue to try and skate without you holding my hand, thank you very much.” It was a struggle to keep a straight face, especially when he smirked as you started shaking the moment you let go of his hands, but you tried your hardest as you focused on the ice beneath your feet.

“Have it your way,” he hummed as he skated just far enough away from you to be out of your reach. “This’ll be a good time to teach you how to stand back up.”

“Are my puns really that bad?” You hadn’t moved more than a few inches as you wobbled on your skates. Calum remained close to you, always out of reach but close enough to move in if you really needed him, and laughed at your question.

“Yes. They’re shit. But they’re cute coming from you.” It was high praise coming from him - he gave compliments but they were often shrouded in teasing jabs - so you took it for what it was and grinned at him. However, before you could thank him - and maybe tease him for liking your awful puns - you felt yourself beginning to fall.

“Don’t flail,” he reminded you as he moved closer to reach out and grab your hand and stabilize you. “You’ll break-“ Before he could finish his sentence, your panic took you both down.

True to his prediction, Calum ended up on top of you. He reached out to keep the full impact of his weight off of you and you both groaned as your back - and bare legs - hit the ice while his hands hit beside your head. You were both quiet for a moment, taking in the shock of the impact, before he laughed. “Don’t land on your hands,” he instructed you. “You could break something.”

You barely heard the words that left his lips. You were more focused on the fact that his lips were inches away from your own. He was checking to make sure you hadn’t hit your head, his hand freezing as he grabbed your chin and lifted your head to look him in the eye, but nothing - not even a potential concussion - mattered when you could feel his weight on you.

“You could at least pretend that you’re not enjoying this.” It was a joke, the words laced with the teasing lilt you would never be able to disassociate with Calum, and it was said as he shifted a little closer to you. You held your breath and let your eyes slip shut, waiting for him to lean in and press his lips to yours, but after a moment of silence, you had yet to feel anything.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with sight of Calum smirking at you. “We should get up. Don’t want you to freeze.” It took everything you had not to scream in frustration as he pushed himself to his feet and steadied himself before reaching out to help you up.

Calum didn’t hesitate to laugh at the pout on your lips when you finally managed to get back on your feet. You weren’t happy with him, clearly, but he loved seeing you squirm as you shied away from his gaze. He wanted to leave you in suspense, to make you wait until the very end of the lesson, but you’d suffered enough. He knew that your legs were going to be bruised - just as your ego already was - so he gave in. “Come here, pretty girl,” he laughed, using his hold on your hand to pull you a little closer to him.

You kept your hopes to a minimum, half-convinced he was teasing you yet again, but to your pleasant surprise, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was a quick kiss, a barely there press of his lips against yours, but it was enough to send your heart rate skyrocketing and set your blood on fire. Your skin burned where his fingers touched and you found yourself warm for the first time since you stepped foot into the rink.

All too soon, the kiss was over. Calum pulled away from you and grinned at the way you blinked away the stars you’d seen. He gave you a moment to compose yourself before he released his hold on your hands and began skating away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your voice had a whining tinge to it, more desperate for his touch than you would like to admit, and you couldn’t seem to stop the words that were spilling past your lips. “We were in the middle of something!”

“You catch me, you get another kiss. You came for a skating lesson, didn’t you?”

You both knew that you wouldn’t have said yes solely for the ice skating lesson and you both knew that you wouldn’t have worn the outfit you did without reason but it wouldn’t be Calum if he gave you what you wanted without getting something in return. So, you nodded.

Your pout slowly faded as you attempted to follow Calum around the rink. He never strayed too far from you, just far enough that you couldn’t reach out and touch him, and made conversation as you grew more confident on your skates. The pair of you talked about school and music, about movies and plans for your holidays. You asked about his friends and him about yours. It was casual, the easiest conversation you’d had in years, and you didn’t want it to end.

However, you finally saw an opening and decided that you’d rather return to the conversation later than miss your opportunity to kiss Calum again.

He’d been consistent in his speed, moving slow enough to remain near you but fast enough to put distance between you, but found himself slowing as he got lost in the conversation. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to notice how close he was but when you finally did, you grinned and moved in to grab his hand.

“I caught you!”

Calum glanced down at your hand in his and smirked, shaking his head when he realized that you had, in fact, caught him. “Well, I’m a man of my word.”

Just as he had done earlier, Calum brought his hand to cup your cheek and leaned in to press his lips to yours. This time, you were prepared. You pressed closer to him, desperately wishing you could feel his body heat, and lost yourself in his embrace. As your hands moved to tangle in his hair, his hands moved to grip your hips. He pulled you closer to him, pressing you tight against his body, and deepened the kiss.

You would’ve been content to remain there forever, desperate for a breath of fresh air but unwilling to take it as that would mean parting from Calum, but he knew that would be a disaster waiting to happen. It was hard enough to keep you both balanced, he didn’t think he could manage with even more of a distraction. So, he pulled away from the kiss and grabbed your hand.

Calum pulled you across the ice without a word, his hand warm in your own. You wanted to ask what he was doing but found yourself unable to speak. You felt tongue tied and fuzzy headed so you relinquished your control to him. When you made it back to the bench, Calum took a seat and pulled you down onto his lap. He immediately returned his lips to yours as his hands slipped beneath your jacket.

You sat there for what felt like a lifetime, your hands tangled in his hair as his moved from your waist to brush the tops of your thighs just beneath your skirt. You were content to remain there, just kissing him, but Calum had other plans.

Calum lifted you from his lap and gestured toward your skates. It took a moment for you to realize what he meant but when you saw him untying his own, you followed his lead. You made quick work of unlacing your skates and returning to cover to the blades before passing them to Calum. He shoved them into his bag, alongside his own, before he stood from the bench and slung it over his shoulder. He reached out a hand to you and guided you through the rink to the locker room.

It wasn’t ideal, and definitely not what you imagined your first time sleeping with Calum would be like, but you didn’t really have it in you to care as he dropped his bag onto the ground and crowded you against a set of lockers.

You didn’t care if you were technically in a public space where anyone could interrupt. You didn’t care that your body ached from your fall earlier. You didn’t care that the metal of the lockers dug into your skin.

The only thing that mattered was the feeling of Calum’s lips on yours, his hands on your skin, his body pressed against yours. You couldn’t focus on anything in particular, not when the feeling of Calum was so overwhelming, so you stopped trying to make sense of anything that was happening and just let yourself enjoy it.

You tugged at his curls as his hands dipped a little higher beneath your skirt. “This okay?” he asked, his voice muffled against the column of your throat. When you breathed your consent, he hummed against your skin and let his fingers explore the expanse of your inner thighs before his thumb brushed your slit over your panties.

“‘M glad you wore a skirt,” he confided, his voice quiet as he pulled away just enough to get a look at your face. “Makes this easier.”

“Glad I didn’t wear shorts under it,” you agreed, voice breathy and high as you gripped Calum’s biceps when his fingers nudged your panties to the side.

Calum didn’t bother to retort as he teasingly dragged his fingers along your slit. You took the time to return his kisses, pressing your lips to his neck and nipping at his warm skin. You felt like this was a dream and hoped desperately that you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

Calum took his time teasing you, brushing his thumb over your clit and rubbing barely there circles before moving away. You weren’t surprised, it was just like him to tease you even as you were willingly giving him whatever he wanted, but you were frustrated as you begged him for something more.

He pressed his lips to yours to silence your begging - and the moan that he knew was inevitable - before he slipped a finger into your heat. He took his time, far longer than he should have given your location, working you open. You were grateful for his kiss as it kept you from making far too much noise as he worked his way to two fingers and began circling your clit with his thumb.

“Are you sure you want this?” He wanted to be sure, certain that you really wanted him, because no amount of flirting and teasing equaled consent.

“Yes, Cal. Please.” Your words came out as a whine, your lips parted as your hands desperately clung to his biceps. He nodded, glad that you were so enthusiastic, before he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled away to grab a condom from his bag.

It only took a moment for him to slip inside you. Once he bottomed out, he stilled for a long moment to allow you both time to adjust. When you started shifting, desperate to feel him, he began to move. It felt like hours passed, feeling Calum fill you in the best way, but you had no way of telling how much time passed as you felt yourself barreling closer and closer to your end. With his thumb on your clit and his lips on your neck, you found yourself unable to do anything but breathe his name.

Your orgasm hit you harder than any other ever had. You imagined it was the build up, the months of verbal foreplay that made the reality that much sweeter, and swore you saw stars as you cried his name. He followed after, his hips stilling against yours as he rode out his own pleasure, and he remained still against you as you both worked to catch your breath.

“That’s definitely not how I expected to spend my Saturday,” you informed him, your voice breathless as he pulled away from you and helped you steady yourself on legs that felt like jelly.

“If telling yourself that helps you sleep at night…” Calum tossed you a wink, his cheeks flushed from the exertion and his hair slightly damp with sweat. “But I don’t hear any complaints.”

“Shut up,” you huffed, biting back laughter as you adjusted your clothes. “No complaints, other than how sore I’m going to be tomorrow. Don’t know if you know this, but ice is really fucking hard and leaves a bruise when you fall on it.”

“Seriously? I had no idea. Come on,” Calum nodded toward the exit, his arm moving to wrap around your shoulders as his other held his bag. “There’s a diner near here.”

“Isn’t this a little backward? Sex and then a date?”

“Who said anything about a date?”

When you fixed him with a look, your eyes conveying the panic you felt in that moment, Calum grinned. “We’re not doing anything out of order. What do you call the skating lesson? Give me a little credit, pretty girl.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Cal,” you huffed, your arms folding over your chest as you let him lead you out of the building.

“Get out of your head and live in the moment. Be aggressive.”

You huffed again, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as you reached out to playfully whack his stomach. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You have no idea, pretty girl.”

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: .....this got way long. Anyway. I had an idea and ran with it. I really want to go ice skating, my dudes. And hockey!Cal just....does something to me. Also the inspo for this. Oof. I’m sorry.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!) : @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijustreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle, @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985, @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @mindkaleidoscope , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany , @sunnysidesblog , @333-xx , @thesubtweeter

677 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Vampire Transformation

M monster X GN reader, 3045 words.

You’ve been experiencing some strange changes in your behavior recently. Can this strange man really make sense of it for you?

You opened your eyes and stared up at the ceiling. For the past few nights, you had been completely unable to sleep.

Nothing had worked. You’d never had any problems with insomnia before. If anything, you’d had the opposite problem; getting out of bed in the morning had been a nightmare. You’d blacked out almost the instant your head had hit the pillow and you’d stayed that way until your alarm went off in the morning.

But in the past week, you’d grown restless the instant the sun vanished from the sky. It was like the sun going down flipped a switch in your body and you were wired. Not only were you not tired, but you were borderline restless. Lying in bed was tantamount to torture- minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness and the energy buzzing inside you made it feel like your skin was crawling.

Every night, the restless feelings got worse until, driven by some odd instinct, you left the house and headed out into the night.

Luckily, you lived in a fairly large city, and in a decent part of it. People wandered the streets at all hours of the night and day, which mean that you were completely inconspicuous. Driven by some odd instinct, you just meandered through the streets, waiting until morning so you could actually collapse.

“Good hunting.” You whirled around. A man was standing uncomfortably close to you. How he’d gotten there without you noticing, you had no idea. But he was there and he fell into step next to you as if you’d invited him to do so. “Didn’t realize there were any others on this turf. You’ll want to stake your claim if you don’t want anyone encroaching.”

You stared at him. Was he in a gang? He was wearing a white button-down and black dress pants with a dark jacket slung over his shoulder, which wasn’t what you considered gang style. He was also incredibly pale, almost glowing in the dark, and quite slender. Nothing about him struck you as a gangbanger. But you couldn’t think about anything else he could be referring to.

“I think you have the wrong person,” you said as carefully as you could manage. The man lifted an eyebrow at you, clearly disbelieving. He seemed to be waiting for you to suddenly go ‘Just kidding!’ When you didn’t, and the silence stretched on, the faint smile he’d been sporting slipped from his face and he gave you a more piercing look.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” he said. His voice was softer, and there was a note in it that vacillated between amused and horrified.

“Uh. No,” you said. “Look, I think you have the wrong person. I-”

The man burst out into deep, chesty laughter, even throwing his head back. “I do not,” he said. “But I think I may be a little premature in my questioning. I’ll have to wait a little bit. Until I see you again.”

He didn’t so much vanish as he simply melted away into the night. One moment he was there, the next he’d just simply faded into the shadows and he was gone.

You blinked and swung your gaze back and forth, wondering if he would suddenly pop out of the shadows again. He didn’t return after a few minutes and the buzzing energy inside you prompted you to keep moving. You trotted along the streets.

The instant the sky started to lighten, the switch inside you that had been driving you to move an be outside flipped back the other way. You’d already wandered back to the area your apartment was in, but you still had to practically drag yourself up the stairs and into your bed. The instant your head struck the pillow, you were out.

You were out for nearly two hours before you managed to claw your way back to wakefulness. You only just managed to write out an email to your professor, telling her you weren’t going to be in class that day, before sleep sucked you back down.

You knew it was night when you woke up because your mind was sharp, no longer fogged with sleep. Not only were you focused, but you were hungry. Not a normal hunger, but something that was sharp and painful. It felt like there were shards of glass inside you cutting your stomach to shreds. It was the worst hunger pangs you’d ever experienced.

For a few minutes, you fumbled through your refrigerator, but there was nothing inside that appealed to you. You tried a few bites of your usual favorites, even digging up the pint of ice cream you’d been saving from your freezer. None of it was appealing. Your stomach, ravaged by hunger as it was, turned when you tried to eat a carrot.

The energy of the night was burning through you again and you staggered outside. The urgent need to move, to patrol, blazed in you almost stronger than your hunger.Something was wrong with your head. It was getting harder and harder to focus. It felt like the moments before you fell asleep- your consciousness blinking in and out. You weren’t going unconscious, but it was like your higher thinking was just fading away for a moment, so you were only a bundle of instincts.

You were so hungry. You were starving. Drool welled in your mouth. Food. Eat.

Something delicious wafted near you on the air. It was rich and savory and wonderful. Your conscious mind flickered for one moment, then blinked out. Instinct ruled your mind. You half vanished into the shadows of an alleyway and crouched.

The scent passed by you and you lunged. Your hands landed around his throat and closed with almost crushing strength. He couldn’t make a sound as you pulled him back, slammed him to the ground and plunged your teeth into him.

Thick, coppery liquid welled in your mouth. It was delicious, like biting into the best steak you’d ever had. It filled and soothed the awful pain in your stomach. Little whimpers welled in your throat as you drank and drank.

“I did think I’d find you here.” Someone tapped your shoulder with a foot. “Come on, let him go. You’ve terrified the poor man.”

You released him, spinning to snarl at the intruder. Some distant part of your mind recognized him as the person who had spoken to you the night before. The rest of you recognized him as an enemy. You bared your teeth and a terrible snarl rippled out through your chest.

The man chuckled. “Ooh, scary. Come on, get up.” He tapped you again with the toe of his shoe. You twisted back to look at the enemy and your prey scrambled out from underneath you. “Sorry about her. She’s a newbie, you know. Always hard training the new recruits, you know?”

The man made a motion to bolt out of the alley, managed to get to his feet, then swayed and collapsed. “Blood loss. Poor guy. He’ll be fine, probably. As for you…” The man rounded on you. You gave another deep snarl, making it as threatening as you could. “Look, you’re not as threatening as you’re trying to be by half. Chill.”

He crouched in front of you. His eyes roved over you for a moment. “You’re only about halfway through this, and it’ll get worse before it gets better. Calm down.”

There was a sensation like your mind was being turned inside out and you were suddenly very aware that you were crouched in an alleyway, human blood dribbling down your chin, the collapsed body of a human you’d tried to eat lying behind you.

“Oh my god.” Your voice was high and thin, almost on the edge of breaking. “Oh my god. What the fuck is happening to me?”

“There you go!” The man clapped a hand on your shoulder. “You’re back. Now let’s get the hell out of here. That guy’s gonna wake up and we’re not going to want to be around when he does.”

You were in such a state of shock that you simply allowed him to pull you to your feet and tug you down the street. Blood was still sticky on your chin, but the way he swept his arms around you and held a hand up close to your mouth made it look like he was trying to protect a bleeding cut. It at least seemed to quell any suspicions.

The man hauled you off to a small apartment tucked into a little alcove. It was shabby on the inside, full of the musty smell of dust and with moth-eaten furniture. The man seated you on a couch and fetched a damp cloth. “Wipe your face off. When you eat in the future, don’t dribble it all over your chin. It’s wasteful and really gross.”

You mopped at your face, wiping away the sticky trails of blood. You couldn’t stop shaking. “What is happening to me?”

The man grinned, revealing long, slightly curved fangs that nearly touched his lower lip. “You’ve becoming a vampire. Didn’t you guess that already?”

“I can’t be,” you said flatly. “I’ve never been attacked.”

“Misconception.” The man turned and started to rummage in his small refrigerator. “I mean, not a total misconception. It’s kind of right. Most humans that are turned are bitten. Just not all of them.” He emerged from the refrigerator holding a bottle, the sort people used at the gym for carrying protein shakes. It was full of a thick, pinkish liquid. He thrust it at you.

“What is that?” you asked. You took it cautiously and sniffed at it. It smelled sweet. “Is it blood?”

The man rolled his eyes. “No. It’s a smoothie.” You gave him a skeptical look. Was that sarcasm or something? “I’m not kidding. Just drink.”

You took a sip. It was incredibly thick and berry flavored, though you couldn’t make out any individual fruits. Something about the sugar cleared the remaining clouds in your head. “Vampires drink smoothies?”

The man gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. “No. Not exactly. You’re not really a vampire yet. I don’t know why, but fruit smoothies can soothe the edge of the bloodlust for a little bit. Something about the sugar content or something, I don’t know. Milkshakes are pretty good too.”

“I’m not a vampire? But you just said I was,” you said uncertainly. The man shrugged.

“I said you were turning into a vampire, not that you’re one right now. Name’s Marcus, by the way. I, if you haven’t already guessed, am a full vampire.”

You took another slurp of your smoothie. “But I didn’t get bit by anyone?”

“No. See, vampires don’t just reproduce by biting. We can also reproduce. And sometimes, we reproduce with humans. Usually, it’s not a big deal. Have a little half vampire, usually they grow into a big full vampire and join their parent as a creature of the night. But sometimes, little half vampire looses their vampire traits when they get older. Instead of going with their vampire parent, they grow up as a human. Probably marry a human and have a bunch of little human kids. And then those little human kids grow up and have more human kids, so on and so forth. But the vampire DNA keeps getting passed on and sometimes, if there’s enough of a push, the vampire traits can emerge.”

You pulled the pieces together. “I have a vampire in my family tree?”

“More than one, probably. It’s more common to have that side emerge if there’s a push from both sides of the family. It’s a genetic hiccup, or a throwback. For whatever reason, you have enough vampire in you for that bit to assert itself. By the end of the week, you’ll be a full vampire.”

You stared at him, swallowing hard. “In a week.”

“Yes. Roughly.” Marcus sat forward a little in his seat and gave you a smile. It was clearly intended to be friendly, but the enormous canines just didn’t allow it. “And I am going to help you.”

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but within two days, you were patrolling the city with Marcus. The smoothies were no longer taking the edge off your bloodlust and Marcus, after teaching you as much vampire lore as you could stand, decided that practical learning was also important.

“This is my territory,” he said, trotting down a street. “It covers five city blocks, which isn’t the biggest territory, but there’s a lot of competition in the city. But at least it has enough humans in it.”

You looked around. Marcus had kept insisting that all vampires could sense where their territory ended and another’s began, but you couldn’t sense anything. All you were really aware of was that everyone who passed you smelled really good and the electric lights were piercingly bright.

“All right?” Marcus asked. You squinted up at him. The streetlight behind him haloed his strong facial features in a shimmering light.

“It’s bright,” you complained.

“The lights? Your eyes will get a little more used to it when the changing settles down. For now, I have a pair of sunglasses somewhere.” He patted the pockets of his long coat. It swooshed around him when he moved and looked appropriately vampire-esque.

Your gums itched and prickled and mild aches suffused your body. You slumped against a wall, grimacing. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of yours stomach, and you were pretty sure that wasn’t just nerves. Something in you was changing.

“Here you go!” Marcus slid the glasses onto your face, somehow managing not to poke you in the eye. You readjusted them carefully. They were easy to see through, even at night. “Are you okay?”

You realized that, over the last few minutes, you had been leaning more and more heavily on the wall for support. Your knees felt a little like jelly. “Um. I don’t feel very well.” Your gums were pulsing and waves of alternating hot and cold flooded your body.

Marcus took hold of your shoulder and gently pushed you into an alleyway. “Sit here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

He bolted off and you placed your head between your knees. Things seemed to be squirming under your skin. You were flushed, but chills worked their way over your body. It felt like you’d come over with a sudden and terrible bout of the flu.

Something thumped to the ground in front of you. A delicious smell wafted up to you and the pulsing in your gums sharpened to a painful throbbing.

“Drink,” Marcus said. One of his hands slid down your back and he lifted the body he’d dropped in front of you to your mouth. You lunged forward, biting into the soft flesh and gulping the blood that spilled forth.

You were much neater this time, gulping down almost every drop. After only a few delicious mouthfuls, Marcus detached you. “You’re shivering,” he said. You were, and the squirming of your innards was only getting worse.

Marcus leaned you back against the wall. “Hey, I was slightly off in my timing,” he said. His voice was pitched oddly, like he was trying to be soothing, but he was barely suppressing panic himself. “You’re making the full shift to vampire now.”

Your eyes popped open and you stared wildly at him. “What?”

Marcus ignored your obvious panic and hauled you up into his arms. Carefully, he swung you around and onto his back. “Hold on tight,” he said.

It was not easy to hold onto the back of a vampire going at full speed. Motion sickness made your head spin and you squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into the back of his neck. His smell was stronger than you’d ever smelled it before, sort of earthy and pleasant. You found yourself breathing deeply.

With a jerk, Marcus dug his feet into the ground and came to a stop. You clung to him, startled, until his hands worked your fingers loose from around his neck.

You in the middle of a sparsely forested area. Still in the city, from what you could hear. A park, then. Marcus offered you his coat and you slipped it on. “Wanted to get you away from people, somewhere relatively quiet. You’ll be disoriented for a moment when you wake up. It’s better to be somewhere like this.”

“Wake up?” Your voice was slurred.

“You’re going to pass out. But it’ll be all right. I’ll be right here.”

You felt like you were falling asleep rapidly. A tingling numbness crept up through your legs, then your arms, crawling toward your neck. Your eyes opened once, to see Marcus smiling gently down at you. Then they fell shut and you fell into darkness.

The first thing you were aware of was the smell. It invaded your senses, permeated your brain. There were unpleasant scents far away, some appealing ones that made your mouth water, and, close by, the earthy smell of dirt and wood and, closest of all, a pleasant, slightly earthy, slightly spiced scent.

You opened your eyes. It was bright. Really bright, almost daytime bright. But you could see, beyond the trees, that the moon was still out. You ran your tongue along your teeth. Your canines were extended and they itched a little.

“Feeling okay?” You turned your head. Marcus was leaning over you, a slight grin on his face. The moonlight seemed to make his skin glow and there was something mesmerizing in his eyes. “Woah,” you said. Marcus grinned.

“I could say something similar,” he said. “Hungry?”

Your stomach twisted and you nodded. “Starving.” Marcus tugged you to your feet.

As he led you out of the park, you became more aware of the territory boundaries. You could sense them, somehow, like glowing lines along the ground. It made you a little unsettled.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” you asked. Marcus grinned, canines glinting.

“No. I like you too much for that,” he said. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got some hunting to do.”

Together, you ran off into the night.

#exophilia #vampire #monsterxhuman #vampire lover #vampire boyfriend #monster lover #vampirexhuman

128 notes · View notes

hopeassassin · 3 years

Text

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive.

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out! Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there!

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you...

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

#my scribbles #here you have it #a rather complete list of incomplete AoMomo stuff I'd say #Rally's works in the making #tagged as:#AoMomo #because it's all AoMomo #sorry for spamming the main tag with nonsense #Kuroko no Basuke #will I ever finish any and all of these?#here's to hoping!#a little bit insider info from the kitchen #fanfiction #writing

12 notes · View notes

ofclaires · 3 years

Photo

IV. CLAIRE WALSH

PAST SELF PARAS: april 2020 / september 2020 / march 2021.

hi, before the read more i just wanted to say THANK YOU. getting to play claire has been absolutely a treat, a challenge, and genuinely, a huge part of my life for the past year and a half or so. it occurred to me when writing this and looking back at other things i’ve written for claire that i didn’t just feel like i was writing this for myself or for claire ; but i was writing it for you guys, too ! that has been one of the most special things about gallagher for me is the writing community that i feel like we built, taking such a huge investment in our characters and everyone else’s writing. i feel like i’m writing with and for some of my best friends. i also feel like i’ve grown so much ( ok, i actually don’t just feel like it, i can look back at those three paras and SEE how my writing has improved. ) i am so blessed to have gotten to write claire with all of you and to share her story, i feel like she has been so fucking beloved & it’s given her so much life. i am so proud of her and it’s really bittersweet that i’m finally saying goodbye to her as well. so, thank you all so, so much, gallagher has been a writing experience like no other for me & i love you all !

trigger warnings : domestic violence & abuse, death

PART ONE: CHILDHOOD.

The trailer that Claire spent the back half of her childhood in never felt like home. Maybe because trailers are made to be temporary, or the fact that if she accepted that this was where she belonged, she’d have to give up hope.

It’s normal Maggie Walsh to be out late, Claire’s usually cleaned up the kitchen and tucked herself into bed by the time her mother comes in the door – but she’s not sleeping. She’s always had trouble with that, brain bouncing around from one thought to the next until eventually she hears the creak of the door.

Her mom’s home.

She hears the usual stumbling, the clatter of dishes falling from where she’d neatly placed them on the drying rack. Maggie’s drunk, Claire’s sure of that. Ten years old and she knows what it means to be so drunk that you can hardly see straight, that the words you say under the influence are a different reflection from the person that you really are. She inhales deeply and crawls out from under the covers to check on her. Ten years old and she knows the steps: Help her take her makeup off, make sure she sleeps on her side, glass of water on the bedside table, trash can on the floor. Maggie is only twenty-six years old herself now, not done with her childhood by the time that Claire was born, not ready to be a mother. Claire’s had to figure it out most of it herself.

“Mom?” Claire knocks on the door lightly, plastic cup full of water already in hand.

“Don’t – don’t come in!” Maggie sputters, and Claire’s confused. She defies her request and opens the bedroom door the rest of the way. When she sees her mom, she drops the cup on the floor, small hands curling into fists.

“What happened? Who did that to you?”

“I told you not to come in here, Claire,” Maggie repeats, but Claire has always been on to disregard commands. She learns at a young age that authority only means older than you or some assigned title, not that they know best.

“Who did that? Why?” She repeats her questions. Despite being mature for her age, it’s hard for Claire to wrap her head around the black eye obscuring Maggie’s face, and the swelling on her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie sighs, dejected as she flops down on the bed. Even in her state, she knows that there’s not much use telling Claire to back off or go away once she’s decided that she’s not going to. Her little girl is a spitfire, strangely enough reminds Maggie a lot of her own mom, like living with a miniature version of her. Maybe that’s why Claire wins most arguments. “Come here.”

Claire walks closer to the bed, kicking the cup aside on her way for no reason other than to kick something. She crawls into bed next to her mom and looks up at her, waiting for more of an explanation or literally anything but silence.

“I don’t know why I keep looking for a happy ending. I leave you home alone, I come home like this...not helping either of us,” Maggie presses a kiss to the top of Claire’s head, runs her fingers through her daughter’s hair. It’s so soft and Claire is so little, she can’t help but look at the spilled cup on the floor with a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she adds, voice choked up and words a little slurred. Tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes when she closes them, hugging her daughter closer, “I’ve blamed you for my fucked up life for so long...that’s not fair.”

Now, Claire is only ten, but those are the kind of words that you remember forever. Still, she smiles. “It doesn’t have to stay fucked up. It can get better,” a childish spark of optimism in her heart that hasn’t yet been put out. It makes Maggie smile back though, kissing her daughter on the top of her head yet again.

“I like that,” she says, and they fall asleep curled up beside each other. Claire sleeps soundly, thinking that it’s possible. Things really could get better, and for a while, it seems like there really is a sort of shift. Maggie starts cooking, cleaning again, and she doesn’t even stay out so late. That’s when she meets Martin.

He seems better than the rest. Until he isn’t.

But Claire does her job as her mother’s protector, just as she’s been doing all of her life, and it’s that event that jumpstarts the rest of everything that happens next.

PART TWO: GRADUATION.

Claire’s come to the formal conclusion that graduation ceremonies are a waste of time. There’s all this build up, everyone’s so excited, and then you have to sit around and wait for your name to be called so you can spend two seconds walking across a stage while everyone claps. She would have skipped it entirely if her mother hadn’t already come up, and if she knew that people were going to insist. The small talk afterward is even more agonizing than the ceremony itself. It is sort of painful saying goodbye to everyone, and it occurs to Claire that there’s more people that she’s going to miss than she ever expected.

“Callum and his mother are here,” Maggie points out.

“And?” Claire rolls her eyes. Seeing Callum again to begin with had brought up a lot of old feelings, and generally, even though they’d resolved things, she tries to avoid him whenever possible.

“Well, it’s probably weird if we don’t say hello, at least, right? I’m going to say hello,” Maggie interjects, “he’s such a sweet boy.”

Claire’s eyebrows rise on her forehead as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Go ahead then,” she sighs, “I’ll wait right here.”

“Claire,” Maggie draws out her name with a withering stare, but Maggie has never been able to establish that sort of authority with Claire that would prompt any inclination of obedience, so Claire just shrugs her shoulders, unimpressed. She’s not going to budge. “Fine, I’ll be right back.”

Claire’s done her best to put the chapter of their life that includes Martin out of her mind when rekindling things with her mother, and she certainly doesn’t want to stand around making small talk with his other ex-wife, trying not to look at Callum with his matching jawline, trying not to remember everything she hates. It all comes back in a flash. The horrible cracking sound that her mother’s head had made when it connected with the wall, the blood on the marble floor. They say you don’t remember trauma properly, that your memory doesn’t work quite right, but she will never forget the way her fist connected with Martin’s face : like a puzzle piece, like it BELONGED there, and she’d done it over and over again until she heard sirens.

And yet, Claire can’t deny that it’s a part of her life that got her here, where she is today. She thinks life is shitty and random, and that not everything has to happen ‘for a reason.’ Still, she’ll catch Kass’s eye across the room and see her smiling so brightly that it seems impossible not to believe in something. Claire can’t help herself anyway – she smiles back. No one has ever been able to produce Claire’s smile in its truest form the way Kass has, unashamed of being so happy to look at someone. She once thought the idea of looking at a person and seeing your whole future was ridiculous, that you’d have to be stupid to put that much of yourself into someone, but it isn’t like that at all. All of it was unintentional, like by the time she realized it, Kass was already everything. And she feels so safe with that thought that she doesn’t mind at all.

“Am I interrupting something?” A figure steps in front of her, cutting off her line of sight. She’s not really fond of being snuck up on, so she opens her mouth to say something snarky when she’s met with the gaze of Lisanna Harlin, one of last year’s mentors. Her daughter, Elisa, is there, but she’s not graduating, so Claire’s confused by Lisanna’s presence.

“No, Ms. Harlin,” Claire says, though there’s a spark of indignation in her words that practically goes hand in hand whenever an adult commands authority.

“Lisanna is fine,” she says with a light laugh, like she’s amused Claire’s greeted her this way.

“Can I...help you with something?” Claire asks, mostly curious about how long this interaction has gone on. While she’s friendly with Elisa, she was Kass’s roommate last year, they’re not exceedingly close, so she’s not sure what else Lisanna would have to say to her other than maybe a polite hello.

It’s more than a polite hello. Lisanna Harlin works for Lexon Corp in Durham, North Carolina, a private military company that provides armed guards, bodyguards, and guns for hire. They’re the sort of place that would be looking for the best of the best in combat, and they have a bit of a reputation for hiring Gallagher girls. Claire had given up on the job search months ago since the video went out, in fact, she’s had a job lined up for graduation already : at a boxing gym in D.C., where the scene isn’t too bad. It was suited to her, but not exactly the sort of thing that her Gallagher education had prepared her for. Lexon Corp? Everything her rigorous love of January boot camps were tailored to. And they want to interview her.

A month later, Claire’s sitting on the cusp of a completely fresh start. It wasn’t easy to backtrack on the plans that she and Kass had made together, knowing how much was changing for the both of them, it had been nice to have the stable idea of an apartment together on the horizon. Now, she’s a four hour drive away, and she goes home to her one-bedroom studio in Durham after rigorous training throughout the day. But she’s grateful for the chance to work her way back into the field, and she can remember what Lisanna said to her when they gave her the offer.

“We’re aware that with your history that we’re taking a chance on you, Claire,” Lisanna said. “But we think the reasons that made other agencies look past you are exactly what makes you an asset. You care about your jobs, the people that you’re involved in, and you’d have a partner’s back until the bitter end. You listen to your intuition, trust your gut...and above all else, you have follow-through. I’m excited to be able to offer this position. Don’t prove me wrong.”

Claire swears that she won’t.

PART THREE: KIPTYN.

Kiptyn isn’t supposed to be in the left hall closet.

In fact, he’s not supposed to be awake at all. But who can sleep the night before their birthday anyway? Sure, he’ll be thirteen, and that’s probably old enough to have gotten over the magic of it all, but...he’d still been lying awake with excitement, the anticipation keeping his eyes open for hours on end. Well, that and the video game he’d been playing under the covers, but he’d obviously only been playing it because he couldn’t sleep in the first place.

Then he started thinking about the left hall closet and the conversation that they had at dinner the other night. In Kiptyn’s defense, Dahvia – his younger sister – had totally started it and he was an innocent bystander. After all, Kiptyn’s old enough to know that they don’t bring up Claire to mom, because it just puts her in a mood and then you can forget about doing anything else for the rest of the evening. But Dahvia’s ten, practically a baby, and she doesn’t know any better.

“Hey, mom? What sort of accident did Claire die in? Nina asked me at recess and I didn’t know,” Dahvia pipes up, before she’s even properly sat down. Kip visibly cringes. He’s older, wiser, knows this won’t go well. Still, he dares to look at his mom’s face and he notes the faraway look in her eye, like she seems to experience a bunch of things at once. Kip notices how even though her eyes are glassy, she doesn’t cry. Though sometimes, their mom will just cry randomly, like two weeks ago when he asked for help with his Spanish homework and she couldn’t even help him finish the first worksheet.

“It was a car accident,” she says stiffly, “eat your dinner.”

Kiptyn kicks his sister under the table and flashes her a look that says : Great. Look what you did, ruined dinner. Dahvia sticks her tongue out at him.

So, he knows that he’s not supposed to be in the left hall closet because he could ruin many more dinners, but he’s here anyway. He’s been thinking about it ever since they sat in silence for the rest of that half hour, and he’s come to the conclusion – his mother was lying. Because all sorts of things make their mother cry, like a bowl of mac and cheese or Spanish class, or motorcycles, and she won’t let Kiptyn take boxing lessons though his friend Robert is and he thought it sounded really cool, but she doesn’t have any problem with cars or driving, and also, she’s never told them a single thing about Claire except that. They aren’t allowed to know anything about her, especially not anything true, so Kiptyn is pretty sure that’s a lie. There’s just something just weird about it.

So, in the middle of the night before his thirteenth birthday, he looks up a video on how you pick locks and then he figures it out on the door of the left hall closet. He’s there for at least forty-five minutes, practically ready to give it all up when he hears the clicking sound, and then it opens. His first thought is : Woah. This is a load of junk.

And he’s right. There’s boxes upon boxes of paperwork, old clothes. Some things start to click, like when he finds a pair of worn boxing gloves with Claire’s initials embroidered on them. His favorite thing that he finds is the fattest scrapbook he’s ever seen – his mom always makes them, there’s one for every year of his life. Dahvia’s too, they love looking at them. The cover of this one, though, says Italy 2021. It’s all pictures of his mom and Claire, probably in their early twenties. Kiptyn mostly notices his mother’s smile, how he’s only seen her look like that a couple times in his life and yet it looks so EASY here, like she wears it all the time. It’s so strange to him. He sets the scrapbook down and crawls toward the back of the closet. His eyes land on two leather folders with gold embroidery, and he opens up the first one. In big letters at the top : GALLAGHER ACADEMY.

It’s a diploma.

This certifies that Kassandra Sutton has satisfactorily completed the…

“What are you doing?”

Kiptyn yells out like a child, not having heard anyone creeping up on him. He claps his hand over his mouth as if to shush himself. “The door was open! I don’t know how, but I just...noticed it was open and wanted to make sure that...no one was stealing your stuff!” he grins sheepishly, hoping that he can ride on the high of his birthday week to get him out of this one.

“It was just...open?” his mother looks down at him with raised eyebrows before brandishing a twisted paper clip between two fingers. The one that had formerly been stuck in the door. His guilty expression widens, he can’t help it.

“Okay, I might know how it opened,” Kiptyn admits. He hesitates for a moment, before he realizes that he’s ALREADY in trouble, he might as well just come out with it and pray to the birthday gods. He holds up the diploma with her name on it : “What’s Gallagher Academy?”

Kass’s sigh is heavy and deep, accompanied by the amount of exhaustion that comes with raising two curious kids by herself. After Claire died, she moved her family to London to be closer to their aunt and away from everything that reminded her of Claire. She never told her children why. From hiding that world from them, the world that took so many people from her : her father, her ex-girlfriend, and the love of her life. She swore that she would never lose her children to it, too. But Kiptyn looks up at her with wide eyes, desperate to know about his mother and his past, and Kass also knows what it’s like to have part of yourself missing due to family secrets that are being kept from you. He is practically a teenager now. So, she relents.

Kass doesn’t go into all of the details, of course. Just that Gallagher Academy was a school for spies, and that’s where it all started. Kiptyn already knew that his moms met in college, so it’s the spy part that’s most interesting to him. She talks about Claire with a light in her eyes he’s unfamiliar with, how she was one of the best fighters in their year, that she grew up with such a talent in the ring that she probably could’ve gone pro if her life had gone in a different direction. She talks about how they had to part ways after graduation, because Claire got a job in North Carolina and she got a job in Washington, DC, but they made it work, and both got very accustomed to the four hour drive – though it was sometimes closer to three for Claire, because she always drove too fast, even on this big, black motorcycle which Kass swears that she hated. She tells Kiptyn about how they got married, the way she’d almost moved to England for a dream job and that long distance threatened to drive them apart again – until Claire chased her down in the airport with a ring and proposal.

She also talks about how Claire really died : the abridged version. It was an overseas mission where they’d been cornered, and Claire risked her life to save the rest of their team. There were no other casualties, and the information they were able to bring back helped stop the terrorist organization they’d been chasing to end them for good. Kass tells the abridged version for her son, gives Claire a hero’s death. In some ways, it was. She doesn’t mention the ways that Claire was consumed by the case, it was an organization hellbent on killing spies and it likely reminded her of the brotherhood. Kass had been worried about the case the whole time, because it felt like Claire was taking it too personally. In the end, she may have been right : because Claire had let it take her life in order to close it. She also doesn’t mention that such a sacrificial death means that her wife died fighting alone, swinging her fists until her very last breath. But still, she was all alone.

She had no choice but to take her kids as far away from that life as possible.

Kiptyn tries, but he doesn’t really remember Claire. He’d only been three years old when she passed away, and before then, she’d been so consumed by her last case that she was barely present. Still, he thinks she sounds badass.

He falls asleep on his mother’s shoulder that night, looking through the scrapbook of pictures from their trip to Italy in 2021. He’s animated for the first part, pointing out buildings and asking questions, wonders if Claire was sweating in all that leather, but he slowly starts to drift off. He wakes up on the couch the next morning, no trace of the book or any of the other papers he’d hauled out of the closet the night before. He looks at the closet and there’s an extra padlock. Figures.

It comes up in little ways, like a private joke that he has with his mother, like she’ll say something and flash him a secretive smile. He likes that, and he understands that this is a big secret that he has to keep. It doesn’t come up again until his fourteenth birthday the next year, the summer before high school. It’s a strange letter in a manila envelope, sealed with some expensive red wax, his name written in fancy calligraphy. The most attention-grabbing part, however, is not Kiptyn Sutton-Walsh in big cursive letters. It’s the return address :

GALLAGHER ACADEMY.

learn her skills, honor her sword. keep her secrets.

#*#self para

14 notes · View notes

clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

hello bella’s ask box it’s been a min damn.

so the vibes are fucking everywhere w the music in the lab today so i’ve mostly been ignoring it but then unforgettable by thomas rhett started playing and my brain was immediately like This Is a Fic Song

more importantly it is a Bella Fic Song

last time you not so subtly wanted me to prompt u w w thomas rhett song you told me to do that here so i am back again w another song from ur boy

okay i def snuck out just to send this so i gotta go now but this felt important laksdjdld

ok ily bye 💛

hi sam :)

so.................... i was stuck on what to write you for your birthday fic. you sent me this ask prompting me with a thomas rhett song that i had literally been meaning to write a fic based on for almost a full year. the puzzle pieces just aligned REALLY nicely on this one.

happy birthday, my love. there's gonna be a LOT more sappy shit in the ao3 notes, but please know that my life is irreversibly changed for the better because i met you. i am dangerous close to sounding like glinda from wicked and i really want you to get to READ this fic so please see ao3 for more schmaltz. i love you so much.

tw for alcohol

read here on ao3

Every life has a moment that imprints on memory like ink on a fresh page. The kind of moment that permanently alters the trajectory of that life, that marks the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Some people are lucky enough to have more than one. Some people’s minds are laden with crystallized memories. But there’s always at least one. One completely unforgettable moment.

For Jack, this moment happens twenty-four minutes after he enters the club.

Twenty-three minutes after he enters the club, Zack returns with his and Jack's second beers and says, "There's some guy at the bar who's totally your type."

"Yeah?" Jack cranes his neck, but he can't quite see the bar from where he is. "My type how? Not just 'lonely and drunk,' right? My standards have gotten higher, you know."

Zack hands Jack his beer. "He's cute and he's wearing a One Direction shirt, and I'm pretty sure he's drinking a margarita.”

"Oh shit," Jack says. "That checks all my boxes."

"I know it does," says Zack, winner of the Wingman Of The Decade award. He claps Jack on the shoulder. Jack sidesteps people until he gets eyes on the bar and scans for a cute guy in a One Direction shirt drinking a margarita.

Twenty-four minutes after Jack enters the bar, he sees Alex.

And everything changes forever.

"Woah," Jack says. His gut is feeling weird and it’s probably unrelated to the beer and a half under his belt.

"What?"

"The guy at the bar," Jack says, grabbing Zack's arm. "Zack. You grossly undersold my future husband to me."

"Your future husband?" Zack sounds amused, but Jack isn't kidding.

"Remember this moment," he says seriously, giving Zack a sloppy pat on the bicep before moving away from him, towards the bar, towards the cute guy with the One Direction shirt who's making Jack understand clairvoyance. "Remember this so you can tell the story at our wedding!"

"Your wedding," Zack repeats.

"Our fucking wedding!" Jack insists, more loudly as space and drunk people fill the growing gap between him and Zack. Zack just gives him a good-luck-and-godspeed wave.

Seconds later, Jack is at the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The cute guy in question looks up, surprised. Jack practically reels. It's a miracle people aren't flocking to this guy; he's not just cute, he's gorgeous. Bleach-blond hair — clearly from a bottle, which somehow Jack finds more attractive — flops over his forehead in a stubborn commitment to the emo fringe that died out a decade ago, and long lashes frame brown eyes that rival the glossy chestnut color of the bar. Add the five o'clock shadow and the sharply angled jaw and Jack's speechless.

Fortunately it's not his turn to speak. "I have a drink," says the guy, who is rapidly progressing from Cute Guy At Bar to Possible Soulmate At Bar. He quirks a smile. Jack's done for. "I'll buy you a drink, though."

Jack sets his partially-drunk beer on the bar top and slides it as far as he can reach. "Okay," he says.

Possible Soulmate laughs. He slides his margarita away from him, too, pushing it into the space of another person sitting down the bar. "Touché. Okay, you can buy me a drink."

"Well, hey, I don't want you to waste yours," Jack says reasonably. He retrieves his beer and then Possible Soulmate's drink. "I'll get the next one."

Possible Soulmate smiles. Jack is going to need his name eventually. "I appreciate your commitment to environmentally-friendly consumption of alcohol."

Jack blinks. "Yeah," he says. "That was a lot of big words, but sure. No problem. I'm Jack, by the way."

"Alex." Alex. Jack can see the wedding invites now.

"Nice to meet you," Jack says. "I like your shirt."

Alex glances down out of instinct as the wide collar of the shirt slips over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says with a chuckle, and looks up at Jack. "I like yours."

With great effort, Jack tears his gaze from Alex's shoulder and the hint of collarbone peeking out, but he would like it on the record that it is tremendously difficult. Fortunately he already knows what shirt he's wearing because he'd agonized over it for several minutes longer than Zack's patience ran, shortly before going out.

"Yeah, Kurt Cobain," he says, nodding with probably too much enthusiasm. "I'm a lead singer guy."

"Really?" Alex tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Meaning what?"

"I go for the lead singer types," Jack explains. "Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong, you know." He nods at Alex's shirt. "Harry Styles."

"Harry Styles wasn't—" Alex breaks off and snorts. "Eh, whatever. Who cares."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold the phone. Did you fucking cross out Zayn's face?"

Alex looks down at his shirt again like maybe he'll have forgotten what it looks like. "Oh, my friend did that. But now the shirt is factually accurate."

"If you wanted an accurate shirt you'd have to cross them all out since none of them are in the band anymore," Jack observes.

Alex slowly smiles. "I guess."

"I always liked Zayn," Jack says wistfully. "His solo shit is so good, though."

"It's good," Alex says, kind of in the tone of voice of someone who doesn't really agree but doesn't want to get into it, so Jack leaves it be. They can poll their wedding guests. "I'm really digging Niall's solo shit."

"That's an extremely acceptable answer," Jack says, nodding vigorously. In the moment it slips his mind that he's holding a beer and the liquid begins to slosh out of its container. "Oh shit, fuck, sorry."

"Didn't get me," Alex says, passing Jack a napkin. "Couple too many, I get it."

"What?" Jack is very focused on drying his hands so they don't get sticky and gross. "I'm not drunk."

Alex laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not!"

"Okay," Alex says lightly, but it's clear he doesn't believe Jack. On the bright side, he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I am acceptably drunk for a guy in his mid-twenties at a club,” Jack amends. "And you owe me a drink anyway."

"Hey, I intend to buy you that drink," Alex says earnestly. "Another beer?"

Jack shakes his head. "Vodka soda," he says. "It's a special occasion."

"Really! You celebrating something?"

"I am now," Jack says. "Celebrating meeting my future husband."

"Your future husband?"

"You," Jack says, in case it wasn't clear. "It's not every day you meet the man you're gonna marry. I think it calls for a celebratory vodka soda."

Alex stares, obviously expecting Jack to say sike! When Jack does no such thing, he gives a small, incredulous laugh.

"Fair enough," he says. He sounds like he's humoring Jack. That's okay. Jack is serious, but Alex will figure that out on his own time. "I guess you're not wrong. That doesn't happen every day."

A large shadow materializes on Alex's other side, blocking light like some very cliché movie villain. It's not Doc Ock, but it is some tall, burly guy, a leer affixed to his face that's probably been there since Alex's haircut went out of style.

"Hey, baby," he says in an unnervingly deep voice. The part of Jack that isn't super skeezed out is a little jealous. But Burly Guy isn't talking to Jack; Jack may as well be invisible. To Alex, Burly Guy says, "Saw you across the bar and I just had to come over."

Didn't have to, Jack thinks grumpily to himself. You could have stayed across the bar. If you walk away now we’ll pretend we never saw you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Burly Guy asks, and honestly, Jack has no idea what Alex is going to say.

Big Burly Guy with a deep voice a la Morgan Freeman vs. resident beanstalk Jack whose voice sounds like a rejected cartoon character design. What a tough choice.

Jack is just preparing to cut his losses when Alex grabs Jack's wrist, turns to him, and says, "Honey? What do you think?"

Jack's tipsy, but Alex is definitely communicating something with his eyes, and between that and the pet name Jack is pretty sure he's on the same page.

"You want to buy my boyfriend a drink?" Jack asks Big Burly Guy, cranking up the Bitchy energy because he doesn't get to do it a lot and it's kinda fun. His voice has definitely gone vaguely southern-auntie, but he's rolling with it. "Sorry, sugar, this seat's taken. Must be this guy" — he points at himself — "to ride."

"This guy?" Burly Guy echoes, furrowing his eyebrows at Jack and then looking at Alex with profound confusion, like he just doesn't get it. "You're with this guy?"

"Happily," Alex says, glancing back at Jack, who offers him what is definitely a convincingly enamored smile because Jack is legitimately enamored. Alex laces their fingers together and Jack's not delusional, can't be, not when they fit this well together. No way. "So I'm gonna pass on that drink. Sorry, man. No hard feelings."

Burly Guy seems to have some hard feelings. Maybe he didn't get the memo. "Whatever," he says gruffly. "Your loss."

Jack can't resist countering, "Actually it's your loss, sweetums," as Burly Guy retreats. If he dies tonight, he knows who’s responsible.

As soon as he's gone, Alex breaks down laughing, and Jack quickly follows suit. Alex's hand slips from Jack's and begins to tug at the ends of his own hair instead.

"Sugar?"

"I don't know what happened," Jack says/wheezes. "I became possessed by Blanche from Golden Girls.”

"You have to be" — Alex prods Jack's chest — "this guy to ride." He dissolves into giggles and Jack is laughing too but mostly because Alex's laugh is incredibly contagious.

"Look, I don't blame him," Jack says, feeling exhilarated. "You are the best-looking guy in this establishment. He just happened to have creepo vibes."

"I am not the best-looking guy in this establishment," Alex says, grinning at Jack. "Nice of you to say, though."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I thought you were Jack."

Jack stares at Alex and Alex doesn't even last a second before he's breaking down laughing yet again.

I'm going to marry you, Jack thinks, and it almost scares him how serious he is about that. He opens his mouth and says, "That wasn't even— that's not even one of the good dad jokes! That's the most boring one!"

"There is no such thing as a boring dad joke."

"You should go into stand-up," Jack says dryly. "You'd tear down the house with this set. I can see it now." He waves a grandiose hand in the air as if painting the marquee into existence, but when he goes to introduce the act he realizes he's missing most of the crucial information. "Alex…something…something. Austin, Texas, one night only."

"Gaskarth," Alex says. "That's my last name."

"Alex Something Gaskarth," Jack loyally amends, and gives Alex a look like, well?

Except Alex is giving Jack that same look. "I only know your first name and you expect me to tell you my full one?"

"Jack Bassam Barakat," Jack says, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, I'm trying to introduce your act here."

"Guess," Alex says.

"Guess?"

"It's a pretty basic middle name," Alex says. "I'll buy you your vodka soda when you guess it."

"Alex," Jack says. "I am not going to guess your middle name. I am so bad at these games and I'm fucking drunk."

"Quitter," Alex says. "Do you want your drink?"

Jack scowls, trying to channel Blanche again, but Alex is apparently immune.

"Give me a hint," he finally concedes.

"It's a British name," Alex says. “Pretty standard British.”

"Are you British?”

Alex nods. "Born and raised. Moved here when I was about…eight? But I'm not an American citizen. I have a green card."

Yet another reason they should be married. Jack could extend his citizenship to Alex. Plus he'd gain British citizenship, which would probably be useful for, like, travel or One Direction stalking or whatever.

"That's sick," Jack says. "I was born in Lebanon. We moved when I was a baby."

"That's so cool," Alex says, sounding genuinely interested. He props his chin on his hand and gives Jack a cheeky smile. "Now guess."

Jack sighs. "Uh, Charles."

"No."

"Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"Margaret."

"Jack."

"You said it's a British name!"

"A British man's name," Alex says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Jack takes a long pull from his beer, swallows, and says, "Harry."

"No."

They're going to be here awhile. Jack pulls out the seat next to Alex and settles in while he racks his brain for British names.

“Alfred.”

“Nope.”

“John.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“George.” Alex shakes his head. “Ringo.”

“Yup, you finally got it,” Alex says. Jack is over the moon for a split second before it sinks in that Alex is fucking with him. “Alex Ringo Gaskarth. Well done.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing my best here,” Jack says.

“You’re missing one incredibly obvious name,” Alex says. “It’s not that hard.”

“For you,” Jack says. “Because you already know it.” Alex is grinning. Jack likes that he’s enjoying himself. It makes this guessing game fun. Under any other circumstances, this guessing game would not be fun, but Alex makes it fun.

Alex has also finished his mango margarita by now, and Jack’s beer is long since empty. He’s itching for another drink, mainly for something to do with his hands.

As if reading his mind, Alex flags down the bartender, who sidles up with a small smile and says, “What can I get you boys?”

Jack blinks at her. Mostly at her accent, which is not American.

“Vodka soda,” Alex says. To Jack, “I think you’ve earned it.” Jack smiles.

“And a mango margarita,” he puts in to the bartender, “and are you British?”

The bartender looks amused. “I am British,” she says.

“Please help me,” Jack says. “Alex says his middle name is a British name and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it fucking is.”

“Jack, the nice bartender lady has other things to do,” Alex says with a laugh. The nice bartender lady probably does have other things to do, but she shifts her weight and gives Alex an appraising look instead.

“Harry?”

“Tried that,” Jack says, realizing at once that this is a pointless endeavor. The nice bartender lady is going to guess everything Jack’s already guessed and he’ll just have wasted her time. “I’ve tried every member of One Direction, every member of the Beatles, every member of Oasis, every Harry Potter character, every member of the Royal Family—”

At this, Alex coughs conspicuously.

Jack rounds on him. “I have.”

“Edward,” the bartender offers. Alex’s lips are pressed together in a smile and he shakes his head. “Meghan. Kate. Richard. Dick. Philip.”

A lightbulb goes off as the bartender is listing Royal Family names. Jack wants to kick himself. “Oh my— William?”

“Yeahhhh, there you go! See, it was easy,” Alex says, grinning widely.

“William,” the bartender repeats with a charming little laugh. Her lipstick is bright with clean lines, an impressive feat considering Jack has seen her bustling around this bar for almost an hour now. “I had an ex called William.”

“Oh no,” Alex says. “I hope he didn’t ruin the name for you.”

“Please,” the bartender says, waving him off. “The only thing he ruined for me was a few meters of drywall.” Jack and Alex must have twin looks of concern, because she explains, “Anger issues. No worries, boys, I sent him packing, and a vodka soda for you, and a mango marg for you.”

She slides their drinks into waiting hands and starts to turn away. “Wait a sec,” Jack says.

The bartender turns back to him with wide Bambi eyes. “Did I fuck up the drink? I’ve made it a million—”

“No no no,” Jack assures her. “I just wanted to know your name. You rescued me from an eternal guessing game, you’re my hero.”

The bartender smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maisie,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Alex says. “Thank you for the alcohol.”

Maisie laughs again as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“William,” Jack says, swirling his drink with the miniature straw. “God damn. I can’t believe I missed William.”

“You got close,” Alex says. “You guessed Liam twice. And thanks for the drink.”

“Same to you,” Jack says. “It’s a good drink. Yours, I mean. You know what offends me, though? Why aren’t mango margaritas orange?”

Alex furrows his brow. “Why the fuck would they be orange?”

“Mangos are orange! Fruity drinks should be the same color as their fruit.”

“Mangos are not fucking orange,” Alex says with an incredulous laugh. “They’re straight-up yellow.”

“They’re orange with yellow tendencies,” Jack says, “but mostly orange.”

“They are entirely yellow,” Alex says. “Coldplay even wrote a song about them. They were all yellow.”

“They’re orange,” Jack insists, but now Alex has moved on completely and is loudly singing Coldplay.

“I came along! I wrote a song foooor youuuuu! And all the things you do!”

“You’re ignoring the truth!”

“And it was called ‘Yellow’!” Alex shouts.

“Okay, I surrender! Sheesh. You win.”

“Thank you,” Alex says placidly, like he hasn’t just been yelling obnoxiously over the (worse, but much louder) club music. “I’m going to enjoy my yellow mango marg very much.”

“And I will enjoy my victory drink,” Jack says, lifting his glass. Alex lifts his. It smells like mango and tequila. They clink the rims together. “To William.”

“To William,” Alex agrees, laughing.

The DJ plays a song Jack loves to hate from hearing it on the radio so many times and Alex is out of his seat before Jack’s managed to put down his drink.

“What are—”

“I love this song, I want to dance,” Alex insists. The implication is clearly that he wants Jack to dance with him, which is like. What is Jack gonna do, say no?

Alex must anticipate some kind of argument, though, because with a glint in his eye he adds lightly, “These are the kinds of things you’ll have to do if we’re married.”

On the one hand, he’s clearly making fun. But on the other hand, the fact that Alex was a stranger an hour ago and is still comfortable teasing Jack about suggesting they’re going to get married speaks volumes. Alex is smiling. They’ve known each other for less than an hour — a drink and a half each — and Alex is smiling at his own joke about marrying Jack. Like he likes that Jack said it first. Like he likes Jack.

“Just wait ‘til you learn all the weird shit you’ll have to do when we’re married,” Jack says, sliding out of his stool.

Any sane person would have run away by now. Even Jack knows when he’s coming on too strong.

But Alex does the opposite; Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the dance floor.

“Fair warning,” Alex says. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack says, and then eats his words not two seconds later when Alex demonstrates how very much he doesn’t know how to dance. All of his limbs seem to move as their own entities, zero synchronization. A couple surrounding people take various minor assaults before taking the hint and giving Alex some space, but this does not stop him. “Okay,” Jack says loudly over the music. “You were right. But luckily neither do I.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alex says.

Jack does the sprinkler. Alex snorts. He does the wave, very poorly, and Alex continues it, also very poorly.

“Mr. Moves,” Alex says. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Check this one out.” Jack does the running man with extreme focus. Alex laughs, leaning towards Jack as he does. Jack stops dancing so he doesn’t accidentally hit Alex, who is suddenly much closer and who somehow smells like pine and flannel and fall and winter in one and is the best-looking person in blue jeans and checkered Vans on this dance floor. Far from the only person, but without question the prettiest.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I can do that one,” says Alex, grinning. Jack nods at him like, try it, so Alex does, proving himself right. He almost takes Jack’s eye out.

“Yeesh, okay, you’re— alright, take it easy,” Jack says, swatting Alex’s wayward hand away and laughing. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

Surrendering the running man, Alex starts up with some bizarre hand-wavey foot-kicky thing, singing along to the music.

“Do you seriously like this song?” Jack asks, attempting to imitate Alex’s dance. “Dance,” heavy quote marks implied.

Alex shoots Jack a look. “Hell yeah. What, you don’t?”

“It’s just…always on,” Jack says. “Everywhere. How are you not sick of it?”

“Because it fuckin’ slaps!” Alex looks incensed.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a pop music person when you’re literally in a One Direction shirt.”

“I’m a lots of music person,” Alex counters. “Including pop music, yeah. You don’t like pop music?”

“I sometimes do,” Jack says. “I like Taylor Swift. Britney Spears.”

“Okay, well, you’d have to be insane not to like them.”

“Yeah, and I’m obviously sane.”

Alex barks a laugh. “Drunk but sane.”

“I am not drunk!” That’s probably a lie by now.

“You’re not convincing me otherwise,” Alex says. “I’m confident you’ve been drunk this whole time.”

“You haven’t exactly been an innocent bystander,” Jack says. “You bought me a drink, and you’re gonna buy us shots in a minute.”

“I did— I what?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and this time he drags Alex off the dance floor, back to the bar. “I can see the future, I forgot to tell you.”

“You—” Alex laughs again and leans on the bar, trapping both his elbows between his stomach and the bartop. “You’re buying the next round.”

“Oh, happily,” Jack says. “I’m actively trying to get you drunk.”

“Why’s that?”

“Studies show I am 75% more attractive to people when they’re drunk,” says Jack.

Alex turns to him. Without missing a beat, he says smoothly, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to get any more attractive.”

Fuck. Actually, fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

“You must be drunk already, then,” Jack says.

Alex smiles serenely. “I feel pretty sober.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Jack says. “J’accuse, William.”

Alex laughs. “In that case, your studies are right.”

Jack’s probably blushing. He does that in extreme cases only, but this is nothing if not an extreme case. Alex is fucking relentless.

Maisie the bartender is back, and Alex orders them shots of tequila. Somewhere in the recesses of Jack’s mind, this unlocks a memory, and he snaps his fingers. “I should hunt down my friend, he loves tequila.”

“Friend?” Alex looks around while Maisie pours their shots. “You ditched your friend?”

“He told me to,” Jack says. “He’s probably gonna pick up some girl. Actually, he probably already has.”

“Really,” Alex says, sounding amused.

“Zack’s a strong silent type,” Jack explains. “Emphasis on strong. We’re single guys in our mid-twenties, Alex. We’re not going to clubs for the atmosphere.”

“Admit it,” Alex says. “You a little bit are.”

Jack bites his lip. “Fine, I like the atmosphere,” he admits, more affected than he should be that Alex seems to have picked up on this about him. “And the alcohol. And the chances I’ll meet my future husband, which clearly paid off. Zack will never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he likes trying to set me up with random people in clubs.”

Alex laughs. “He set you up with me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says. “He wingmanned me hard. You can thank him in your vows.”

This only serves to make Alex laugh harder. “I’ll thank him now,” he says with a grin. Taking his cue, Jack grabs his shot glass. Alex does the same. “To Zack.”

“To Zack!” Jack cheers, and they both down their shots.

“Me?”

Jack whirls around and trips straight into Zack. “Zack!” he says brightly. “We toasted you.”

“I heard,” Zack says. “Why, exactly?”

“I’m Alex,” says Alex, holding out a hand. Zack shakes it. “Apparently you set us up?”

“Oh,” Zack says. “I wouldn’t really say that. I just kind of pointed Jack in this direction. If you can put up with him, that’s all you.”

“I was gonna come find you anyway,” Jack says. “We’re doing tequila shots. Next round on me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Zack says. “Count me in.”

They can’t come up with a toast for their second round so they just knock it back with an ambiguous cheer; then Zack offers to buy another, and Jack’s not about to refuse. It’s starting to hit just right, so he’s buzzed but not incoherent. All his most brilliant ideas come in this state.

Case in point: as Maisie is pouring them their third round, Jack suddenly says, “Maisie! Do a shot with us!”

Maisie looks up and laughs. “I’m not supposed to drink on the job,” she says.

“It’s not drinking, it’s bonding,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, we’re forming lasting friendships,” Alex jumps in.

Zack looks entertained. “You guys know each other?”

“As of half an hour ago, yes,” Maisie says.

“Maisie here helped me guess Alex’s middle name,” Jack explains. “Which is William. Like the prince.”

“I feel like I missed so much,” Zack says, half to himself. He shrugs and nods at Maisie. “One shot. On me. For Jack. We won’t tell.”

Maybe it’s because Zack is buff and has cool tattoos or just has good vibes or whatever, but Maisie hesitates only a second before inclining her head. “Just one, and no blabbing,” she says, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Everyone nods solemnly, and Maisie discreetly pours herself a fourth shot.

“Hell yes!” Jack whoops as they all take a shot glass. “To Maisie!”

“To Maisie!” Everyone echoes, including Maisie with a wry grin.

The third shot goes down smoother than the first two. Jack swallows his easily, as does Alex. Maisie puckers her face a bit. Zack has zero reaction, because Zack’s just kinda like that.

“While I’m here, I was hoping to get another beer,” Zack says.

“On it,” Maisie says immediately, giggling. “Thanks for the shot, boys. You’ve kept me far more entertained tonight than my usual shift provides.”

“You can give a toast at our wedding,” Jack says to her. Zack’s eyes widen a little, Alex snorts, and Maisie laughs.

“I’d be honored,” she says. “Back to work now. You need anything, let me know.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“What?” Jack gives Zack an innocent smile. He pats Zack on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sugar, you can give a toast too.”

Alex laughs. Zack stares at him and shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he says, but he says that roughly twice a day so he’s still below his quota. “I’ll leave you two alone. Come find me when you wanna go. If…” He eyes Alex. “...Just…yeah.”

And with these eloquent words, he disappears with his beer into the crowd.

“I like him,” Alex announces.

“Me too,” Jack says. He turns back to Alex. “Back to the dance floor?”

“Get out of my brain,” Alex says. “I’d like to see your drunken running man.”

“It is gonna blow your fucking mind,” Jack promises, and Alex laughs again.

They’re not even being gross like everyone else. Alex has pulled Jack into an exaggerated tango performed mostly with missteps when it happens: someone shoves them aside as they walk past, and Alex loses his balance and falls into Jack, who just barely manages to catch them both. He doesn’t manage to stop his arm from winding around Alex’s waist. To be fair, he doesn’t try very hard.

Jack’s first thought is homophobe, but then he spots the offender, lumbering off with heavy footfalls, and it’s Burly Guy from earlier. The guy who tried and failed to pick Alex up.

All of this registers as Alex slowly regains his footing. “Damn, who pissed in that dude’s Cheerios?”

“It’s the guy from before who tried to buy you a drink,” Jack says, pointing at his back.

Alex whips his head around. “Seriously? Asshole.”

Jack chooses not to observe that from his vantage point, being shoved close together is hardly a dick move. In intent, sure, but not in actuality; Jack’s enjoying the proximity a great deal. Like, a lot.

Like, his hand is still on Alex’s hip, subtly keeping Alex close, and Alex has his arm around Jack’s shoulders from their dance and he’s not moving, either.

“Yeah,” Jack says. They’d already been on the outskirts and now they’re off to the side of everyone, wallflowers.

Alex breathes a laugh and looks back at Jack. He doesn’t step back or even lean away, even though their faces are too close to be friendly now. Jack hadn’t really been expecting friendly, but they’ve been tightrope-walking between sides, and if neither of them breaks this up then they’ll be irreversibly left on one end.

Jack has no intention of moving away. He likes this end of the tightrope. For all he cares, they could cut the tightrope and free-fall together.

“You’re pretty good at bad tango-ing,” Alex says, reaching up to brush away the sweaty fringe that’s clinging to his forehead.

Jack grins. “Well, you know what they say. It takes two.”

Alex kisses him so suddenly that Jack almost loses his balance.

He tastes like tequila. That’s all Jack gets before they’re not kissing anymore. The room feels quiet and then unforgivably loud the next second, and Alex is flushed and smiling nervously, and Jack is smiling too, not nervous at all.

“Did I tell you I’m in a band?” Alex asks in a rush.

Jack’s brain struggles to keep up. He can’t remember Alex mentioning a band, but he’s also distracted by wanting to kiss Alex again. There’s no understating the power of wanting to kiss someone over failing to clock anything they say. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” Alex says. “Not as a job, just like, for fun.”

“Oh,” says Jack.

“I’m the lead singer,” Alex says, with a flickering look down at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh,” says Jack, because, like, oh. “Can I kiss you again?”

“What, here?” Alex meets his eyes. “With all these people around?”

“You kissed me first,” Jack says. “Let me kiss you and then we can call it even.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Jack’s kissing him before the word’s really out of his mouth.

And he tastes like tequila and mango and sugar and the color yellow and the sweat of the dance floor and God, it’s good. It’s like kissing a memory, except this memory is still here, not frozen in time, not trapped in an ornate frame. He’s creating a memory that he knows he’ll relive for the rest of his life.

Somehow, though he doesn’t know the end of this chapter, he knows the end of the book.

Alex’s warm palm cradling Jack’s cheek to hold him steady, fingers splayed out like a star; Alex’s other hand grazing skin over the collar of Jack’s shirt. Alex singing Coldplay in Jack’s ear. Alex’s blue jeans and his checkered Vans and his ridiculous One Direction tank top. Alex holding Jack’s hand and calling him honey to get Burly Guy to leave him alone. Grinning as he shoots down guess after guess for the elusive middle name. Laughing at Jack’s stupid dance moves. Knocking back a shot like it’s nothing. Smiling when Jack says they’re going to get married, never moving away, only ever closer.

Alex sitting undisturbed at the bar, ankles crossed, and Jack seeing him from across the room like something out of a goddamn Hallmark movie and just knowing.

He tugs Alex closer but Alex is already pulling away with a smile. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smoothes a hand over a crease in Alex’s shirt and nods. “Taxi’s on me if we go back to your place.”

“Sucker, I was gonna suggest that anyway,” Alex says with a quiet laugh. “You should tell Zack. Don’t wanna just leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “He knows.”

“He knows?”

“Zack and I are brothers in clairvoyance,” Jack says. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I knew you could see the future,” Alex says. “You never told me Zack could, too.”

“Zack can see everyone’s future,” says Jack. “I can only see mine.”

“Yeah? What’s your future look like now?”

Jack filters out several inappropriate comments. It’s hard when Alex is smirking, clearly baiting him. “I told you,” he says. “You, me, vows, rings, the works.”

“Not that future,” Alex says. “I’m talking about the immediate one.”

It takes everything in Jack not to get down on one knee and say so was I. There’s a tilt in Alex’s head, like a dog listening carefully for a familiar sound.

“Honestly?” Jack says, and Alex nods. “I think it’s more fun if we find out together.”

3 notes · View notes

dothwrites · 4 years

Note

Prompt for destiel where one of them saves the other from a calamity, au or canon/humans or human & angel, but they get severely hurt instead, and other gets to comfort them and help them heal, and they get to confess

---

It’s his fault.

That’s all Dean can think as he kneels on the grimy floor, slick with Cas’ blood. His fault.

He was the one who insisted on pressing forward with the hunt, who overrode Cas’ desires to wait. He should have listened. After all, it was just him and Cas, newly human and still a little fragile with it. He should have listened to Cas’ objections, should have listened to the little coil of unease in the pit of his stomach warning him that this was a bad idea, should have, should have, should have.

It should have only been one demon.

There had been more.

The demons had fought with brutal efficiency; within a few seconds, he and Castiel were separated from each other. From far away, Dean had heard the struggles, the snap of electricity that signaled a demon’s death and the grunts from Cas that accompanied the sick, wet sounds of fists striking flesh. At least Cas was still fighting. Dean was less than useless, caught in a chokehold that slowly obstructed his airway. His joints screamed in pain while black and red crowded at the edge of his vision.

“Dean Winchester.” His name was spoken in a sneer, contempt dripping from the lips of the leader of this little outfit. In a former life, her meatsuit must have been some kind of model--she was all lithe lines and sleek muscle and tall enough to look Dean in the eyes. Her eyes flashed black as her fingers gripped at his chin. Five bright pinpricks of pain blossomed across his cheeks as her nails dug in. Dean grunted, but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of crying out.

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? The whole world, open for the taking, room enough for everyone to spread out now that you killed the man upstairs, and you still couldn’t let us be.” A thin trickle of blood dribbled down Dean’s chin as her nails broke skin. “Well, you should have kept your nose out of it.”

She drew her hand back, silver glinting as she moved. All Dean saw was the wickedly sharp point of her angel blade. He remembered how it felt, skin and muscle splitting underneath the force of the blow, how easily the blade slid into his body. Looked like he was going to get to experience it again, except this time without the failsafe of the Mark to pull him out again.

“Dean! Dean!”

The blade started to plunge down and Dean closed his eyes. They hadn’t had enough time, him and Cas, and now he was leaving Cas to the rest of a mortal life, alone. I’m sorry, Dean thought, tensing in preparation for the inevitable blow. Cas, I’m so sorry...

The blow never hit. Instead, what hit was a dervish, a whirl of blows and snarls and yelps. Somewhere, in the mad scuffle, Dean recognized the shock of dark hair and the flash of Cas’ shirt. Seeing that gave him enough strength to break free of the hold. His own blade slipped into his hand and he plunged it into the gut of the demon who had been holding him.

He’d had just enough time to feel triumphant before he heard the low grunt of pain.

He’d known what it was, but he still turned around to confirm. His eyes landed on a nightmare.

A demon stood tall, blade in hand. Crimson liquid dripped slowly off of the tip of the blade to splash upon the ground. Though it was impossible, Dean would swear that he heard the impact of every drop. A sick, twisted grin spread across the demon’s face as they looked down.

Castiel staggered backward, hands clutching at his stomach. Already, a dark stain spread across his shirt. Horrified, Dean could only watch as Cas dropped down to one knee, before he finally collapsed to the ground.

Dean’s still not sure the exact sequence of events. He knows that he charged forward, a pained shout erupting from his throat. He knows that there’s a dead demon. He knows that his fumbling fingers managed to find his phone and call Sam, leaving bloody smears on the screen.

And he knows that Cas is dying.

“You stupid son of a bitch, why the hell did you do that?” He won’t cry, not here and not now, but he wants to. Cas moans lowly in pained protest as Dean drags him into his lap. He ignores the sticky warmth leaking into his jeans from the ragged wound in Cas’ stomach the same that he ignores Cas’ eyes squinting shut in agony. He’ll deal with those later, push through those nightmares when Cas isn’t gasping for air right in front of him. Dean lays his hand on Cas’ neck, fingers pressing down on his pulse point. It’s thready and rabbit-fast.

“You have to ask?”

“Dammit Cas.” Dean bends down low over Cas’ body, as if he could shield him from the rest of the world. Too little, too late. He’d screwed up and now Cas was paying the price, like always. “You know that I’m not worth it. You know it.”

“Dean.” Cas’ mouth moves like he wanted to say more, but all that comes out is a dribble of blood, leaking from the corner of his mouth. His hands grasp at Dean, but his grip is so weak that it slides off without ever making an impression. “Dean,” Cas manages to say, breathing in deep and forcing the single syllable of his name out with extreme effort. “I, I--”

“Don’t you say it,” Dean hisses, pressing down hard on Cas’ stomach. The sound of Cas’ agonized cry is enough to twist a knife in his heart, and the feel of warm blood gushing over his hand makes him sick to his stomach, but at least it forces Cas to stop talking.

“You’re not fucking dying on me,” Dean almost snarls, voice wobbling towards the end. “You hear me, Castiel? Not yet.”

Cas’ eyes close. He doesn’t respond.

---

Dean watches the skip and jump of the heart monitor and listens to the steady beats. Like a metronome, it counts the beats of Cas’ heart. Each rise and fall, each electronic beep soothes Dean’s rough edges, as it acts as a reminder. Cas is still here. He didn’t lose him.

Twenty-two stitches. That’s what it had taken to save him. That and some very good surgeons, some impossible luck, and a series of driving maneuvers delivered by one Sam Winchester. Dean would doubt that his brother was capable of such driving, if he hadn’t been in the back seat with him for the full duration.

They’d cut the margin of error so thinly that it was translucent. Minutes, the doctors had said, with the vague whiff of suspicion that came from bringing in a stabbing victim. If traffic had been heavier or if Sam hadn’t been driving quite so fast and furious on the Fury Road...Well, Dean would have another corpse on his hands to burn. Again.

Dean’s attention is caught by a low groan coming from the direction of the bed. Within seconds, he’s at Cas’ bedside so that he can see the exact moment that Cas’ eyes flutter open.

He’d been so angry earlier. Furious, that once again, Castiel saw fit to throw himself to the wolves, all for Dean’s sake. He’d been ready to give Cas an earful when he finally woke up (once they discovered that he was going to wake up). But seeing the hazy, pained look in Cas’ eyes vanish to be replaced with a slow, pleased smile erases all thoughts of rage from Dean’s brain. All it leaves him with is sweet, clear relief.

“Hey sleeping beauty.” Dean cards his fingers through Cas’ hair, as tentatively as though Cas were made of porcelain. “How are you feeling?”

Cas pauses to consider. “Numb,” he finally rasps. He glances to the side, where the IV stand drips down into various tubes connected to his body. “I assume that there’s a large amount of medication responsible for that?”

“Yeah, you’re getting the good stuff,” Dean says. He can’t stop touching Cas’ hair. It’s a little gross--Other than a few quick sponge-baths from the nurses, Cas hasn’t bathed and his hair has taken the brunt of that. It’s a little greasy, but Dean couldn’t care less about that. Not when Cas smiles up at him through a grizzled beard.

“Don’t be angry,” Castiel says. His fingers wrap weakly around Dean’s wrist. “I know that you’re probably furious with me.”

“Damn right I am. How many times do I have to tell you, I ain’t worth--”

“Stop.” Cas squeezes his wrist. His grip is pathetic enough that it forces Dean into silence more than if Cas had managed his usual bone-bruising force. “Nothing you say will ever convince me that you’re not worth saving. Nothing,” Cas says, as severe as his voice will allow. He strokes over the soft skin of Dean’s wrist. His eyes look at something faraway only he can see. “I sometimes think that I was created in order to keep you safe. Please don’t deny me that.”

And what can you say to that?

Dean lifts Cas’ knuckles to his face, brushing a gentle kiss over them. “Way to make a guy feel guilty, asshole.”

Cas smiles wanly. “Whatever it takes.” His voice turns thin and ragged around the edges. Dean knows that it’s not going to be long before he slips back into sleep.

“But you have to try and stay around.” Dean takes in a deep breath. The words sit on his tongue, ready to taste freedom. “It’s not fair to make me go through this without you. I love you, dumbass, and if you go off and get yourself killed just because you were trying to save me then I’m going to be really pissed at you.”

They haven’t said it. They’ve kissed, they’ve fucked, hell sometimes they’ve even done what Sam would probably call making love. They live together and they’ve died for the other. But they’ve never said the words. Dean had been convinced that he never would. Cas knew. That was enough for him. Everything else was window dressing.

But there in the backseat, with Cas’ limp and bleeding body pressed against him, forced to listen to Cas’ pained wheezes, and his hand pressed against Cas’ stomach trying to keep Cas’ blood inside, Dean had been overcome by only thought.

Cas is going to die and I never told him.

The thought that Cas could die without knowing exactly how much he’s adored has kept Dean awake for several nights.

Cas’ eyes are wide as his fingers clench reflexively around Dean’s wrist. “Dean,” he finally gets out. He blinks quickly, obviously fighting against impending sleep. “Dean, I--”

“Yeah. I know.” Dean brushes Cas’ hair off of his forehead and leans down to press a kiss against the clammy skin. “Go to sleep.”

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?” Cas’ voice is already slurred, sleep wrapping around him and tugging him deep into oblivion.

Dean settles onto the edge of Cas’ bed, unwilling to release his hold on Cas until he absolutely has to. Cas murmurs happily, nonsense words that trail off into silence.

Dean runs his finger down Cas’ cheek, bristly and unshaven. It’s warm to the touch. When he pulls away, Cas almost follows after him, squirming in his sleep until Dean takes his hand in his and laces their fingers together. Only then does Cas subside into peace.

“Yeah Cas,” Dean says, despite the fact that Cas can’t appreciate his words. “Yeah, I’ll be here.

---

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #canon!verse #angst #happy ending #dothwrites

302 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

PROMPT

Che “Taza” Romero x Reader

@stardust1978 asked: I wanted to request a Dialogue Prompt #5 under Angst with Taza when you are taking requests again. Thank you :)

Prompt: “My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away”.

Word Count: 2.6k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @arved 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Who said ‘ride or die’ for first time, surely he knew you, because ride is your life.

“Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?”

“She came from nowhere! I didn't see her!”

It wasn't true. Once your helmet is on, your motorbike and you are one. There's no difference, as if you got melted with it when you turn the engine. You know every single inch of Cali's asphalt. You know every traffic light, every signal, every road, every street, every city, every single driver. You didn't come from nowhere, but he was looking his phone when he crossed the corner's avenue. He didn't see you, that's true. But you came from Sunset Boulevard with Figeroa street. You was driving fast, as always, but respecting the limit.

You were lying on the ground, upside down, when you realized that you couldn't move your right leg. You couldn't even feel pain. As the orders of your brain reached the toes of the left foot, the right foot didn't respond. Nothing. Breathing fast, you were drowning into agonizing coughs. You're a nomad. You know every single bone of your anatomy. You know what's broken, you know what's fragmented and you know what's twisted. You're choking because of the blood filling your lungs, for a splintered rib. And only when you hear the sound of an ambulance sirens, you let yourself go.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A hard headache is lashing your whole body, growling slightly whilst feeling some long fingers tangling into yours. You know their touch pretty well, you don't even need to open your eyes to confirm it. Those fingertips have traveled through your skin so many times you lost the count long time ago. They hold yours tightly, with a trembling and cracked lips kissing every one, every knuckle and the wrist. You're sleepy, coughing for a while and raising your free hand to your belly when a bitter twinge hits it. You don't need to ask where you are, 'cause you know it at the exact moment you notice your right leg immobilized hanging of the metal structure of the bed.

Feeling weak and decayed, you turn your face at him, opening your eyes so slowly. The man drags his chair a little bit closer, leaning above the hospital bed to leave some dearly kisses on your forehead while your free sleepy hands toured your stomach till reaching his nape. It's been a long time since you saw him in Santo Padre. And even if you think he betrayed you, Taza still being the most important person in your life. And he will always be.

You met him sixteen years ago in Santa Madre, when you were almost fifteen. You stole a loaf of bread. You didn't have family, nor money, nor a job. You were a child suffering the poverty of the Mexican border. And as a fallen angel from heaven, he found you. He was running away too.

He saved you and you saved him.

Taza taught you every single thing you know today. About animals, about guns, about motorbikes and mechanic, about how to be silent, about fighting. He welcomed you in his ranch, he gave you a family and he brought you back to life.

“What ha—happened?” You mutter feeling high because of the morphine.

“A guy missed a traffic light and hit you”. He says licking his lips, choosing the correct words.

“And wh—what happened to me?” His sigh is more painful that have every bone of your body broken.

“A rib pierced your left lung, but you're okay now, cariño”.

“And what abo—about my leg?”

The Mayan doesn't know how to tell you. Isn't that bad, actually. But riding is your life.

“Femur fracture”. He can't lie to you. At least, not a second time since you met.

You turn your neck and face to the opposite side, feeling awake suddenly. You know what it's means. Your eyes filled with tears and your heart racing. The sanitary machines starts to beep louder, claiming the attention of some nurses who come to try to control your pulse.

“I'm ok—okay! Fuckin' leave me!” You cry squeezing over the bed, while Taza tries to hug you.

“Sh, (Y/N). Calm down, calm down. Everything is gonna be fine. Sleep a little more...” He whispers on your eyes, watching sideway how a doctor inject a whitish liquid into the line connected to your wrist.

You let yourself go again, between Che's strong arms, making you feel as if you were at home again.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

He explained you that you fell with your knee slightly curled and that was why you broke it. Luckily, in Los Angeles didn't wait for transferred you to San Diego, to make the surgery necessary. After one day unconscious, they flew you in helicopter to Santo Padre. And even if Taza told you that you could walk again and drive your motorbike, you couldn't help but feel anxious, terrified and mournful.

It was one long month in the hospital, receiving visitors every day from Stockton, Charming, Tijuana, Mexico... Even from the charters of Connecticut and Pennsylvania. You didn't used to talk a lot, mostly some words and some sentences. You were submerged on a gloomy environment, crying all the time because of the pain and the rage of being bedridden. Taza slept with you every night, before complaining all day about his back hurting with Bishop and Tranq. But he would do anything for you. Anything.

After the high medical and all the information the doctors gave you for the home life and rehabilitation, you agreed with the idea of coming back to the ranch. Actually, Taza as the stubborn man he is and Bishop as the president of your charter, forced you. They didn't give you any options. So you just ‘agreed’. Your next six month were going to be summed in the first one to rest, the next four going two times per day to the hospital and the last one trying to walk by your own. Feeling pain and agony with every step until you can make it disappear, by following the recommendations.

You used to be laid on the bed with the blinds half down, holding tightly your black leather vest against your chest, feeling that it was your only hope to wake everyday. Of course, there are things in life worse than a femur fracture, but for you it was painful in a psychologically speaking way. The doctors recommended the crew and your friends to talk you about day-life, happy situations or whatever that didn't let you think about it, so you could avoid a depression and harmful thoughts. So when Mayans came to visit you at the ranch, sitting by a side of your bed or lying next to you, they were always trying make you laugh and talk. But you couldn't. You were like a scared child believing that the sheets were shields that protected you about any hurt.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Opening your eyes, rolling over the mattress, hearing some whispers outside of your room that won't let you sleep. Your heart race, getting up on your palms, when you can't find your vest on it. You look for it on the floor, behind the blankets, behind the pillows. Nothing. With a lot of effort you move your whole and heavy body to the wheelchair next to the bed, supporting your arms on it with a growl drowned in your throat. Rolling your fingers above the wheels faster than you can think, you go towards the door opening it loud and making it crash to the wall. Following the hallway to the living room, the voices stir anxiously. Tran and Gilly are blocking your gaze to the huge table, where you used to meet al the Mayans for a lunch, a dinner or an impromptu meeting.

“Look at you! You did it by yourself!” Angel is very proud, leaning towards you before your able to kick his crotch with your good leg, making him fall to the floor between whinings and sobs.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, karate kid!” Creeper holds your shoulders, while EZ press his hands on your tights and on your left leg, to avoid the fact that you hit them too.

“Where's my kutte?! What are you doin'?!” You shout with your eyes filled with tears, stirring to loosen from the grips.

“Cariño, calm down”. Then you hear his voice, appearance behind the big guys in front of you.

“You, fuckin' traitor! You're doin' it again! I fuckin' hate you, bastard!” You want to kill him, yelling full of rage while the tears run through your cheeks soaking the shirts.

“Fuck, (Y/N)! Calm yo' fuckin' self!” Angel growls trying to getting up from the floor.

“Bishop, please! I'll ride again! I'll soon”. Your cry gets louder seeing how the man is cutting a patch of your vest, between Tranq and Gilly, above the table. “It's the only thing I have! Please, don't!”

The president doesn't say a word knowing how much you're suffering and don't giving a shit about it. Riz leans close to you, slapping him when he tries to clean your tears.

“Don't fuckin' touch me!” You scream at him totally mad, squeezing on the wheelchair and trying to get up of it.

“Jesus Christ, calm down!” He says somewhat scared.

“I earned it! I did it! Please! Don't take it away!”

You feel like the air is leaving your lungs and your mouth when Bishop holds the kutte on air having a look of it, before starting to walk towards you. And when you're able to grab it, you do it holding it tightly on your chest, raising your gaze confused. He makes a soft move with his chin, pulling a way some inches the vest to see the new patch. The “nómada” one isn't there anymore, having been changed for “Miembro de honor”. Gasping not knowing exactly what to say, you hold it close again.

“It's the only thing I have...” You mutter with trembling lips.

“We know”. Bishop says bending down to leave a kiss on your forehead with a hand placed on your nape. “No one is gonna take it away, querida. But at least, I made you go out of your room”.

“Yea', the kick was worth it”. Angel says with a hoarse voice rubbing his crotch.

You can't help but smiling for first time after long months, when Creeper and EZ let you go. Riz helps you to wear it, putting it well on. It looks good on you, better than ever and you're starting to feel blissful again.

“We decided to have a day off, here with you. And we bought you free alcohol beer, so you can drink too”. EZ says almost singing, making you chuckle. “And pops' meat for the barbecue”.

Sounds good. Really good. So you nod without doubting pulling away some hair bristles behind your ears.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You can't remember when was the last time you had so much fun with your true family. Vicki came too with some of your friends and Letti, who turned out to be better than you expected, after Coco told you so much about her. And even if you didn't want the day to end, you were waiting for it, so you could be alone with Taza and tell him that you were sorry about what you said early morning.

After all the goodbyes, and the apache bringing you back to the inside, you turn at him with some effort on the wheelchair. Placing both hands on your lap and pursing your lips, your gaze travels looking his.

“I didn't me—”.

“It doesn't matter”. He interrupts you, passing you away to let his body fall down on the nearest sofa.

Turning again, you guides yourself to him, insisting about it.

“I'm sorry, Che”.

“God, forget it, (Y/N)”. Rolling his eyes, he lies his head against the back of the sofa.

“No, 'cause I know it hurt you. And it's not fair”. You continue, getting up of the chair to jump with the other leg by his side.

He doesn't say anything when you wrap his neck with both arms, hugging him. Taza only clicks his tongue, slicing a hand between your back and the sofa to put you closer, holding you against himself. Resting your face on his chest, closing your eyes, yes, it's feels like you're at home again.

“You know what?” You say almost in a whisper.

“What?”

“My heart tells me to kiss you, but my head tells me to walk away”. It's not a secret, but sounds like. And you're not ashamed of recognizing it.

“You can't walk, idiot”.

You chuckle shaking your head, raising it to him, touching his cheek with your nose.

“Don't leave me again, please”. He sighs rubbing his forehand. “I know I fucked up things with that... chick. But I truly love you and I'm gonna regret all my life for hurting you”.

“Just... give me some time”.

“The one you need, I could wait all my life”. Pressing his lips on yours in a smooth kiss, you travel one of your hand towards a side of his neck.

The love you feel for him has never disappear, not even when you tried so hard to hate him when you became a nomad just to run away from all the sorrow he provoked you three years ago, a winter cold night when you arrived of a two weeks travel with the Stockton charter. By that time, you were going through some trouble and each one had a different way of facing it, instead of remaining together.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

It's been almost six month since the accident and everything has changed. Taza is driving his bike, with you by his back, towards the clubhouse. You called Bishop before to meet the crew on the front yard. You didn't tell him why, having a little surprise for them. So when you finally come and the guys are waiting you there, EZ is the one who notices that you're not carrying the crutches, drawing a big smile on his face and palming his brother's chest before pointing at you.

Taking off the helmet and giving it to Taza, proud-hearted of what are you going to do, you practically jump out of the motorbike. You can see every reaction on every face. They're happy and a little shocked when you put your right foot on the floor. You're walking without help. And even if you feel a little pain yet, there's nothing that could stop you now. You're like a child giving her first steps. Limping very slightly, you open both arms.

“What's up, guys?! Cat got your tongues?!” You laugh happily going towards them.

Bishop is the first one who holds you in his arms when you're close enough, laughing too for your feat.

“You did it, querida”. He says, and you're sure the president is about to cry.

“I told you!”

“Are you gonna kick me again, if I try to touch you, mi dulce?” Angel walks somewhat closer with a funny gesture on his face, before hugging him.

“The doc' said I could ride in two weeks, but I'm gonna wait another one, just in case”. You inform them, with Angel's left arm on your shoulders. “So, where's my bike?”

“Resting too”. Taza says then, kissing your cheek. “Waiting for you”.

#mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #taza romero x reader #che taza romero x reader #taza romero imagine #taza romero

131 notes · View notes

malfoymuch · 4 years

Text

“Rivals Don’t Look At Rivals That Way” pt. 2 [draco x reader]

Pairing; Draco x Reader

Genre; ANGST, with uh, some fluff

Prompt: Part 1 Inspired by “THAT WAY” by Tate McRae

Word Count; 4k+

A/n: Hey everyone, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for posting this WEEKS later, after the first one. To be honest, things are getting a little hectic and the workload for school is only increasing (it’s insane really, at least to be). Anyway thank you for all the love and support you gave to me, especially for the first part!! It may seem a bit rushed so I apologize, and it is a lot of ANGST, so yeah...thank you guys and love you!!

Warning; idk major angst, and it’s a bit rushed so i apologize (there also may be a few grammar errors but i always miss them)

Part 1 || Masterlist

_________________________________

Previously:

“Rivals don’t look at rivals that way… rivals aren’t supposed to feel jealous when the others dating someone else…” you droned on, ignoring the look of astonishment Draco had. “I don’t think we’re rivals, because if we were, then I’ve read everything wrong. And so are my feelings…”

So you looked back up to him teary-eyed, clutching his robes and pulling him closer to you.

“Tell me the truth, I want to know whether or not there was a possibility we have something… tell me if you feel absolutely nothing so I can stop-- there’s no point of me continuing on if nothing’s going to happen so tell me, Draco. Do rivals look at rivals that that?”

_________________________________

Now:

He felt comatose, not from your hinted confession, but the reality he cloaked suddenly unveiling. Complexion faded, his lips quivered and his throat unbearably tight. It had only tightened more as he watched as your face begin to form tears, sniffles already beginning. He was always a malefactor, wasn’t he?

“I can’t,” Draco lamented, inspecting your deepened expression.

“The last thing I want is for you to be mocked by all these students…” a frog caught in this throat as the three next words passed his lips. “...from my father.” His eyes widened as he left a cool drop fall stream down his face and drip off his chin, landing on the ground. The sudden moment he couldn’t restrain his emotions… he didn’t even know he felt even an ounce of melancholy.

“So you admit that we’re more than rivals?” You whispered, stirring Draco from his unsettling behavior; a frown quickly cracked through, despite his oblivious state.

“I never said that, don’t put words into my mouth. Plus, you know better than anyone that we couldn’t possibly--”

“What’s stopping you?” You grilled, quickly overlooking his (weak) counter, stunning him for a moment. “Why is there always something stopping you Draco? Someone?”

The interrogation seemed to madden him. Out of the blue, a harsh growl erupted from his throat; harsher than he’d ever done before. Of course, he knew what stopped him, what always stopped him. Merely the thing that daunts him every day, makes him question himself and his actions…

“Nothing...” Draco snarled, laced in displeasure.“Nothing is stopping me.”

“There is something...” you pressed on. In this exact moment, you could’ve been deemed the antagonist, forced to alienate everyone around you.

You didn’t want to, but you knew that the exterior front he seems to maintain isn’t his true nature; you knew that deep within, everyone is a bit broken inside, and there was a nagging feeling in you that he was much more broken than anyone you’ve ever seen… maybe even more than you.

“I know there’s something Draco, whether or not you want to tell me about it.” You didn’t want to, but if making him angered was the only way to see his genuine emotions, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Draco’s jaw clenched at your words, resisting the urge to snap. He should be open, he wanted to do nothing more than surrender. To you, to everyone, he trusted, to everyone who deserved it. He’s done already to you, partly. Accidentally, but was it worth it? It was, it always was, so... why can’t he go further? Why were so many things prohibiting him? And why were they all linked to the same thing?

“You don’t understand, you don’t see the world I do (Y/N). You’ve managed to see through people, and believe that every person should have a chance. I didn’t get to, you haven’t seen this school as I have… being a Malfoy. People change, and not for the better, sometimes... You can’t fight for me for too long, (Y/N), you’ll end up giving up too.”

His eyes glistened with fresh pools fell down, uneasy hands bringing themselves up to cradle your weeping face. A thumb, calloused, guardedly moved higher, pushing the water threatening to flood. He watched as the spark in your eyes dim, and he knew he’d done it again; he’d break another one. It was heart-wrecking.

“You mean more to me than anything, (Y/N). I mean it…” he started, stepping closer and bringing you to his chest; shielding him from seeing the agonizing expression, guilt beginning to already eat him alive.

“The last thing I’d ever want to see, is for you to be shattered… and for it to be all my fault,” he choked out, knowing very well you were already tattered… much less than what could happen later. His hand slowly went up to place itself on the back of your head, soothingly rubbing and playing with the strands. Not to calm you down, but for him.

With his words, time seems to stop, as well as your heart; no words formed.

How could he?

You’d known for some time rejection was an option, but it was before his feelings… before the pain knowing how close you were; seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, reaching for it, grasping what it seemed to be it, and falling through the seams.

Blame is all that seemed to loom him, clouded by what he convinced himself to be responsibility.

How do you persuade someone damaged like that? Reassure him that he didn’t have to worry about your well-being? About the world around him?

That simply having him near and embracing you, knowing how he truly felt was all you needed; his mere existence was enough, his worth didn’t need to be proven. That the feelings were both mutual, was all he needed. The world’s view shouldn’t matter, because it was the two of you… not them.

He didn’t need the world to love him, because you did. And even if you weren’t enough, he’d have others, family, friends… but did he really?

For once, in your entire life and being, you felt… defeated. Taunts and arguments were small failures, but resulted in your victory… for the first time, you didn’t know what to do… how to make a comeback.

“So there’s nothing? We’re destined to be stuck like this?” you sobbed, arms encircling his torso, pulling yourself into his chest deeper, a habit to muffle the cries escaping from you; a tactic you developed as a kid. Draco only pulled you closer, silent; chewing on his lip hard to the point he could begin to taste the metallic fluid oozing from it. “I don’t want it to end… anything at all is fine.”

He knew what you meant or what you were getting to… It was either going back to being the world’s little display of chaos or having a secret little love affair.

Now usually, he’d be head-over-heels at the idea, the moments of cuddling or secret rendevous in the garden or past curfew. Stolen times under the moonlight or just with the two of you, it sounded like bliss.

But there was a possibility that it could all end in an instant. The moment he’d become extremely attached, to the point where a mere sideglance from another male could send him unhinged. Or someone catching the two of you, unfolding the curtain for all to see; backlash was his first thought.

The thing was, he was untouched. Draco Malfoy was taken to such a high degree that most didn’t want anything to really do with him-- get on his bad side. The only people who’ve ever given him a run for his money was the Golden Trio, other than that, he was fine.

You were the complete opposite. Yes, you have held a stable title of being strong, a determined and bright-minded individual. But people would still gossip, attempt to enrage you, simply because they could. You would fight back, that was definite… but there’s only so much you could take. Only so much before you either become numb or do something near expelling-worth.

He didn’t have the courage. Call him a wimp all you want, but Draco Malfoy wasn’t going to hurt someone else ever again. He’s already done enough to himself.

Cut ties, to have you blame him and move on. Hate him, mock him, he’d heard it all before-- but with time, you’d be happier. It would hurt, more than anything, but he’d rather have it from you now than having it all, still brawling students will a weak caliber. God, he’d never forgive himself for that. His selfish acts weren’t going to be at the price of your glee.

“We can only be what they see us as of now,” he retaliated, hearing another choke from you; the heartstrings pulling excruciatingly tight. “For both of our sake, for your sake, especially.”

“Draco--”

“Please, do it for me. Stop trying to reason with me, because I’m doing what’s best for us, for everyone. For you.”

Anger.

For you… for you… why was it always “for you?”

Why was it that everyone’s decision revolved around what’s best “for you?”

No one ever asked, but it was always with the best intention “for you.” But who knew if they left before they could?

The saying made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn’t retaliate. Instead, with a shaky breath, you took everything left of you and removed his hands from you, already missing the warmth from him. You didn’t need a second opinion to know you were an absolute wreck; the feeling already weighed you.

You held onto his hands in yours, just blanking out, staring at it. The sheer touch of his hands made butterflies explode within you, the frog trapped within your throat refused to budge. The grooves of his hands were intricate, you could hold onto it for forever, intertwining it with yours. Instead, a few more tears plopped from your eyes and onto his hands. What a silly thought…

Holding his hand out to him (with yours in it), you pushed it towards him, staring at him. This was your last attempt. Draco’s eyes bore into the hand holding his, signaling you were complying while saying,

“If you truly feel that way… take these back too.”

Draco didn’t want to… it was too nice. It felt right, like home. A safe one. Maybe even an escape. But if it didn’t, and let his heart voucher for him, all that he’s said, all he’s done, would’ve been for nothing; the struggles.

So, he made his decision.

As his hand withdrew and landed to his side, you had sprung forward. Grabbing the collar of his robes, you pull him down and peck his forehead. Draco’s body turned crimson, his body hot; if it was possible, steam would’ve been blown out from his ears. Just as quickly as it happened, it was gone.

Putting on the best smile you could muster, which you knew wasn’t much, you pulled away with another few inches of distance; the wood creaking beneath your feet. You didn’t know why you did it, maybe for once, you wanted to be selfish… you wanted to take something, a memory before it all ended.

“I should go before someone comes to check out the books in this section.” You didn’t want to leave, his eyes were telling you to stay, but if you did your heart would’ve split into two. You made your lips smile wider, almost maniacally, as more tears cascaded down your face; everything you could see started to blur. Turning away, you scurried off, resisting the urge to turn back.

Something overcame Draco. He sunk onto his knees, against the bookcase, ignoring how loud it must’ve been. He leaned against the bookshelf, his lip quivering more than ever as all his emotions poured out; by himself, once again. His knees came to his chest as he flicked his wrist with a series of words. Books encompassed him, cloaking the withering Slytherin, finally expressing his emotions… with no one to hold.

_________________________

You stared off into space, elbow digging into your thigh, despite the thick robs above it; you rested your head on your chin as everything around you seemed to be in a blur. You were so wrapped up in your mind the stem of your apple was barely between your fingertips, dangling.

“You shouldn’t look so glum, people might get the wrong idea,” Dean teased, nudging your shoulder as he stole the apple from you, taking an enormous bite out of it. You gasped and punched his arm, screaming at his stupidity for eating your food, and finishing it off. Grinning the best he could, he threw the apple core to the side and folded his arms over his chest, making a sad face.

“Now what’s the problem?” He questioned, in a childlike manner, his bottom lip popping out to create an (almost) irresistible pout. The action made you roll your eyes, giving Dean his answer.

“Geez, it’s the same thing… well, if you want, we could do something to get revenge.” You gasped in exaggeration, eyes blown wide as a hand came to your chest. “Did a Gryffindor just suggest revenge? What’s the world coming to?”

“Oh, put a sock in it. You’re simply just rubbing off of me too much for my own good,” he mocked back, smirking. Shaking your head a bit, you stealthily grabbed the sketchbook from him and flipping through the pages. His eyes bulged.

“What are you doing?! Are you mad?”

“You know...” you trailed off, scanning through the context. “You really shouldn’t draw people without their permission. Especially if you’re drawing the same person.” You taunted, displaying the picture of Ginny. Dean’s face grew red, taking the initiative to take the book back and hide it under his robes. He groaned aloud, revealing it once more.

“First off, I don’t only draw her, I draw all my friends.” He muttered, flipping through the pages irked until he found it. “I drew you too,” he finished, displaying the specific drawing.

Honestly, you were surprised. Shockingly enough, Dean Thomas was in incredibly talented kid, believe it or not, especially in art-and-crafts. You never belittled his talent, unlike the other Hogwarts students, you just teased him from drawing his little crush for an unspeakable amount of days, months. But seeing you made you crack a smile, even with the thought of Draco’s denial.

It had already been two weeks. Fortunately for you, Dean was about the perfect person you needed, a supportive, caring friend. It was well reciprocated, it seemed Dean was completely in love Ginny; he didn’t even talk to her much. He had tried countless times, but there were a few moments filled with stumbling over his words, walking off embarrassed. You didn’t know if Ron had noticed Dean’s fascination with his sister, you just hoped he wouldn’t chop Dean’s head off.

“Why draw me? I mean, that sketchbook’s pretty much occupied with one person inside. You could dedicate the entire book to her.” Dean rolled his eyes, clutching the sketchbook against his chest tightly. “I draw everyone I hold dear, (Y/N). And if you didn’t know by now…” Dean’s voice began to come softer, leaning close. “... you’re apart of that list now.”

“You’re too goofy sometimes,” you laughed. Both of you smiled brightly as laughs were exchanged, gaining the attention of a few students, who began to babble. Dean stopped before you did, gazing at everyone.

“Hey, don’t listen to them. They have nothing on you,” you whispered, ruffling his hair. “Entitlement only gets you so far, you need brains to get anywhere, and a majority of this school doesn’t really have any.” You continued on, knowing that a few students must’ve heard.

“You’re going to get in trouble for saying things like that, y’ know.” He whispered. “It’s the truth, and maybe for once, the school would shut up and mind their own business.” You spoke a bit too soon because a bundle of boys came trudging their way over.

“I heard (Y/N) and Dean are really together, look they’re all touchy and--”

“Crabbe, Goyle. Do me a favor and put a cork in it.” Draco sneered, leaning against the pillar as he watched people from a distance.

Yes, most would find it creepy. But Draco was much more observant to the people around the two of you rather than just you. Keen to people’s words, the way they spoke hollow lies, yet it seemed it mattered more than the value of truth. Deception and myths blinded people, false hope. He stares too often, but it’s mostly the people around rather than the person. He did it with Potter, got him in trouble more times than he could ever count.

But Draco knew the truth, he did it to help him. It was the only time he could ever see you, without other’s wandering eyes. He just didn’t feel the overwhelming need to do anything or desire. Crabbe and Goyle still praised him, always as countless other Slytherins, but it didn’t help that he himself felt guilt. Felt like a complete blistering idiot for rejecting probably the best opportunity he could’ve had, but he made his word of it to never come in contact if there was a chance of it down spiraling… if things were to get out of proportion.

You made sure to give the biggest grimace to the leader of the boys, looming over you as he shifted his weight on his back leg.

“Heard you two were together,” he jeered, his misshapen finger pointing accusingly at Dean. “the muggle-born.” The attempt to belittle your friend made you scoff aloud, unlike Dean, who’d kept his head down to avoid the spur of conflict.

“Obviously you’ve heard wrong because we’re not together. That or you’re just plain stupid.” The male looked baffled before he stomped closer to you, a poor attempt of intimidation. “What did you just call me?”

“(Y/N), quit it.” Dean tried to reason, finally looking up from the ground.

“I think you heard me, or are your eardrums clogged? You know what, don’t answer that, we all know the answer to that,” you taunted. “The latter one, if you didn’t already know.” You saw red. That and the sudden silence of everyone nearby, practically gawking at the scene before them; it even caught Draco’s full attention, making a beeline straight for you.

The boy suddenly grabbed the collar of your robes, his other hand reaching down to reveal his wand, you let out a maniac laugh.

“Are you that embarrassed that you attack a woman? Especially one unarmed as you reach for your--”

“Oh shut up!” He screamed, his wand pressing against your chin, making an indent on your skin. “You just wait and see you--”

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” someone grunted; a wand pressed against the male’s head, who shivered. You didn’t need to look twice to know it was Draco, though you were more irritated that he came to help you now than relieved.

Doesn’t give you a glance and suddenly came to act like your knight in shining armor out of the blue?

“Go on,” Draco rasped, “get on with it. Finish what you were going to say before I came here.” You felt the pointed piece of wood disappear, a slight tremble in his hands as he placed his wand to the side.

“I can’t...” the student croaked. Draco’s furrowed his eyebrows and twisted his face, adding pressure. “And why can’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly chickened out, have you?” He remained silent before Draco finally released him with a quick click of his tongue. “Beat it, coward.”

As if on cue he scurried away, not once looking back. Draco gave you a steady look, scanning your face for any sign of injuries, mutely.

“If all you’re going to do is stare, I’m going to leave,” you said, patting down the wrinkles in your robes. Draco didn’t say anything as he grabbed your forearm, tugging you along to who-knows-where. Stopping in front of Goyle and Crabbe, he growled.

“By the time I get back, I demand to know everything about that tosser, clear?” The compliant nods cracked a small smile from Draco, before whispering something to the boys you weren’t able to catch. He turned back to you and gave you a hard stare, turning around and yanking you with him.

The walk overall was uncomfortable. You were petrified to try and break the heavy silence, knowing Draco was still full of steam. The doors to the library swung open as he made his way inside, his grip as vicious as a viper, tightening at the slightest struggle.

“Are you always trying to get yourself into trouble?” He snapped, pushing you towards a bookshelf, and trapping you with his arms. You hated this. Being stuck beside him, near him, when he hinted there was nothing he could do to change anything between you.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Draco. I have nothing to say to you, so let me leave.” You ordered, searching for a way to flee.

“I don’t care if you don’t have anything to say to me, because I know you’re lying and I have things to say, so you’re not going anywhere until we sort this out.” A pained laugh followed from his words finally decided to stare up at him and into his eyes.

“I think we’ve already sorted it out, you established that weeks ago, if you’ve forgotten,” you chided, ignoring your shaky breaths. “There is nothing to sort out, ‘cause we aren’t any--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

“And why not, huh? Afraid it’ll hurt your ego if I might?” You wanted to stop, you really did. You didn’t understand the words coming out from your mouth, but in that second everything within you just broke.

“We are nothing, you made it crystal clear, Draco. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly backing out on your word--”

You felt something on your lips. Something soft, wet.

He was kissing you. Draco Malfoy was kissing you. It wasn’t happy either, it was vulnerable. His hands intertwined with yours desperately, assertive and fragile. It wasn’t until then you realized he had been crying from your words, his actions.

When he pulled away his head hung low, ashamed.

“I’m sorry. If you still hate me you can hit me, do whatever you want. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, for everything.” His eyes pierced into yours, another tear forming on his tear-streaked face. “You deserve much better than me.”

Again, you were in a tight spot.

Could you accept him? This time?

You got what you wanted, he finally decided to open himself up to you, after months of trying, months of failures. But now… you didn’t know. He was so distracted by everyone around him, would it work? The two of you?

Weeks ago, you would’ve been all for it; ready to face the world if it meant he was by your side every time, both thick and thin.

But now you were thinking, actually taking the time to think it through… were you going mad? You loved him to death, without a doubt, but what would happen if his father did find out? It would be an emotional hell for him.

What if you weren’t enough for him, and he realized that?

“(Y/N), nononononono don’t you ever discredit yourself… ever.” He panicked, taking your face into his hands and raising your eyes to him. You didn’t even realize you voiced out your thoughts to him.

“You are everything, (Y/N). Nothing would change that, you did nothing wrong. I did it, okay? It’s my fault.” And there it was...

It’s my fault.

“Why are you so persistent in everything being blamed on you. Why do you intentionally make people blame you?”

“Because it’s easier to have everyone hate you then knowing your true intentions… your true feelings. It’s been easier, until now,” he explained, muttering the last part under his breath. “When you asked what was stopping me…” Draco trailed on. “...It’s been me. I know, it’s stupid but… I don’t want to be broken again, (Y/N). Not again. So I tried to push you away, evidently, that didn’t work.” He joked, stroking your hands.

“I’m not asking anything of you, (Y/N). I just wanted to say I’m sorry; I won’t ask for your hand, just know that you mean more to me than anything. Whether we’re rivals or more.”

He said gingerly, a little grin forming on his face.

You thought again.

Was it really okay for him? Was he really all right with everything? With the thought of you hating him and moving on? Being nothing more?

“Draco…” you whispered, you didn’t believe the words coming out from your mouth. “Will you go out with me?”

Draco was speechless for a while, before kissing the top of your forehead. “Only if you’ll have me.”

You’ll take a chance, if he was willing to, you’d take it any day.

_________________________

Tags:

(those who asked for a tag and then wanted a part 2)

@dreaming-legend

@swonpl

@blisfvll

@s-njj

@that-weird-kid-charlie

@paaaam97

@simple-live

@jiminie-slytherin

@jadewestwriter

@lumbs17

@un-limit-edd

@blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm

@theres-a-dog-outside-omg

@fire-in-her-veinz

@zphyersworld

@babyde-er

I think that’s everyone, thank you for reading and I hope you all are healthy and safe !!!

#draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco reader insert #dracoxreader #hogwarts #imagines #malfoymuch #draco x you #draco malfoy scenario #harry potter #harry potter imagine #angst #fluff #have fun and stay safe #love y'all

192 notes · View notes