#and then allison says hes actually nice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

messylustt · 1 year

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hii since u said you’d do something for stilinski can i request a fic where the alpha twins were just introduced and stiles and reader (best friends) like each other (everyone in the pack knows but them) and reader thinks stiles doesn’t like her so they start hanging out with the twins more and stiles gets jealous and it’s like a angry love confession and maybe smut?

++ thank u so much for taking the time to read & write this!! your writing is actually making me happy as sappy as that sounds💗💗

you’re my friend, not theirs — stiles stilinski + reader ( teen wolf ) : stiles getting jealous over the blooming friendship between you and the twins.

contents : jealous!stiles. kissing. sorry no actual p in v. i need to watch teen wolf again — that shit was gooood, and thank you so much ur actually so sweettt

"I want one." Lydia said, eyes focused behind you and Allison.

You both turn in your chairs to see the two new twins talking by a bookshelf. "Which one?" Allison asked, turning back. You kept your gaze on the twins, mainly for the fact that they were said—by your strange friend group—to be alphas.

Why they chose to go to school you could only guess. Most likely not to actually enjoy classes, but to keep an eye on said strange friend group.

"The straight one." You answered for Lydia. "I'd hope." You turn back in your chair to see Lydia narrowing her eyes.

You smile, just as Stiles slumps in the free chair beside you. Scott taking one beside Lydia. You glance back around at the twins, tilting your head in a slight observation.

Then you feel a poke on your arm. You turn your head to face Stiles, who is eyeing you with furrowed brows. "What are you looking at?"

"Our new classmates." You say, gazing back.

"You know they're alphas, right?" Stiles asks, making you nod. "Like, deadly...scary alphas?" He re-asks narrowing his eyes, as you chuckle.

"I heard they can shift into...like...one big werewolf." You say, in slight awe.

Stiles scoffs. "It's not that impressive."

"It kind of is." You mutter. Then you hear your seat scraping against the floor as Stiles jolts you around to face away from the twins.

"Do you know the distinction between friends and enemies?" Stiles asks, making you scoff. "Scott, did you know that y/n's rather stupid?" He asks Scott, making you elbow his arm.

"Yeah. She thinks the twins are cool." He continues, as you try to shut him up with your hand.

"I'm not the only one." You say defensively, before gesturing to Lydia, who is still eyeing up the straight twin.

"Well that's...Lydia." Stiles grabs your wrist, removing your hand from his mouth.

"Wow, your reasoning is impeccable, Stiles."

Stiles tilts his head at your sarcasm, the edges of his lips curving up a fraction. You get your wrist out of his grip before looking at Lydia—Allison and Scott caught up in conversation. "It's called having taste, Stiles."

Stiles raises his brows. "Taste?" He nearly exclaims. "Did you get hit in the head?"

"Alright...I'm gonna head to science." You say, ignoring stiles, standing, as the others spare you 'goodbyes'.

Stiles calls to your leaving form. "You have zero taste, y/n. Nada!"

You chuckle as you walk out into the hall. Stiles has been your best friend for almost forever. You enjoyed his jokes and even his incessant sarcasm. But you hated the fact that whenever he smiled butterflies would swarm your stomach. Whenever he would look at you a certain way your cheeks would pinken.

You had to brush it all way, knowing he wouldn't feel the same. And ruining such a long friendship would be horrible. Your mind is caught as you nearly collide with someone.

"Shit— sorry." You say looking up, holding a tighter grip on your notes.

One of the alpha twins stares back at you, a small smirk edging his lips. You quickly take in his appearance and the way he holds himself. "And I'd take it your the...straight one?"

He chuckles before beginning to nod. "Aiden." He introduces.

You nod. "Nice to meet you."

He raises his brows awaiting your own introduction. You go to speak, opening your mouth, but pause, seeming to remember exactly who Aiden is. "Will I be in danger if you know my name?" You whisper ask.

Aiden leans down to whisper back. "You might be safe."

"I might?" You ask, raising your brows.

Aiden smirks. "A pretty face usually makes it far."

Your mouth partly opens in slight shock. "Ha. So, you are a flirt." You straighten up. "Lydia's gonna love you."

"Mm, and what about you?" He asks, brushing a strand of hair away from your shoulder.

You chuckle. "Again—Lydia's gonna love you." You then step around him, walking into your class.

Stiles had seen one of the alpha twins follow you out. And of course, with a narrowed gaze—he followed him. He stopped upon seeing the twin speaking to you. Stiles' grip on the doorway was tight as he watched. A scowl formed as he saw the twin brush your hair over your shoulder, you chuckling about something.

What the hell were you talking about?—Stiles wondered, wishing he had scott's hearing. His stomach had tightened the moment he saw you with him. Hating seeing you smile at the enemy. But it wasn't just for the sake that it was the twin you were talking to. Stiles would feel like it no matter what dude it was. He wanted you to smile at him like that. Not someone else.

When you passed the twin for your class Stiles saw the way he eyed your form before leaving for his own class. Stiles scoffed to himself, glaring holes into the back of the alpha's head. No way was that beast getting you.

A few days had passed and through the halls you had caught yourself talking to the twins. It started off brief, just passing nods and a few hello's. But then you started picking up conversations where you'd left off the next time you'd pass eachother.

Stiles saw as you would wave at them or smile, them cracking a joke or a compliment. On the occasion that he would walk with you, Stiles' expression couldn't be more gloomy. You'd bump his shoulder making a comment on the "glare" he'd mastered, but Stiles' couldn't laugh, only hearing Aiden's compliments on your outfit or hair.

At first he didn't want to acknowledge that he was jealous. Because then he'd have to remember his large crush on you. He had had to push it away, knowing you wouldn't feel the same. You were freinds, and Stiles hid behind that concept, forcing himself to reason his glares to him just being a good friend, not wanting you to date someone like Aiden.

But once the days drew out, you and the twins seeming to grow closer, Stiles finally accepted his jealousy. You were his friend not there's. So, when he saw you smile and blush at a compliment Aiden gave you, he couldn't help himself but grab your wrist and pull you somewhere secluded.

You swiftly turned to face Stiles as you stared at him in confusion. You both are in the boys locker room, it being empty—the laccrosse team not practicing today. "What the hell-"

"What the hell is that?" Stiles cuts you off angrily. You stare at him, brows furrowing.

"What?"

"That." Stiles gestured to the now closed door. "Them. The twins."

"Aiden and Ethan?" You ask.

Stiles scoffs at the first name basis. "Yeah, Aiden and Ethan."

"What about them?" You slowly ask, never really having seen Stiles so mad.

Stiles clenches his jaw, all the past days annoyance bubbling up. "What about them? Really, y/n?"

Your still displaying confusion, as Stiles steps closer. "Why the fuck are you talking to them?"

"You're mad at me becasue I've said hi?"

"Oh, you've said more than hi." Stiles scoffs. "You keep talking with them in the halls as if your the closest of friends."

"Look Stiles, I know you don't like them. And I know they aren't particually saints. But if you spoke to them you'd realise how not in control they are. Deucalion—"

"I don't care for their sobstory, y/n. And you shouldn't either. You barely know them." Stiles has progressively gotten closer, before he's backing away, running his hands through his hair in annoyance. "God." He mutters.

"Stiles." You say, making him meet your gaze. "What is this?" Your tone has stayed calm, not wanting to start an arguement with Stiles of all people. "Are you okay?"

"No, y/n. I'm not." He finally says, fully stepping closer. You slightly stumble back at how swift his movement was. "Why do you want to talk to them?"

"Stiles, they...they're nice. They make me feel good, strangely enough."

"They make you feel good?" Stiles asks, eyeing you.

"They make me laugh. They are quite funny." You mutter, seeing how close Stiles is getting.

"Oh." Stiles chuckles, though the humour is lost. "Aren't they just amazing. Making you laugh and smile. You even blush around Aiden."

Your cheeks begin to redden on embarrassment as you cough. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. And it's really annoying." Stiles says. "You know what else is annoying?" You meet his gaze, pressing your lips together. "The fact that you're blushing for him right now."

You scoff. "I'm not."

You can feel Stiles' breath hit your face. "I really hope that's true."

"Stiles, why are you so angry about this?"

And he cracks. "Because I don't want you to like some rabid wolf, I want you to like me!"

Stiles freezes, processing what he just revealed. Fuck. You stare at him, mouth beginning to open.

"What..." You drift off, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

"I-" Stiles begins, stepping back, shocked and incredibly nervous at his own words. "I didn't-"

"You...like me?" You slowly ask.

Stiles goes to shake his head for fear of your rejection, but then he thinks of Aiden, and switches to a small nod.

Now your shocked, confirmation that his first confession wasn't a slip up. Silence has engulfed the locker room and Stiles can't bear it. "Say something...please."

"I didn't know...you liked me like that." You mutter, your life long crush's words having taken a toll on you.

He couldn't let you date Aiden and now you knew why. But your moments of silence were crushing his heart. He began to step farther away, thinking he just ruined your friendship, when you quickly grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him.

Stiles eyes widened, before they became hooded, the feel of your soft lips making his stomach do somersaults. But then your pulling away far too soon, eyes wide, your own shock at what you just did easily visible.

But Stiles doesn't waste another moment, smashing his lips back to yours. You slightly stumbled back at the force as Stiles began to lick and eat at your lips. He groaned into your mouth when he was able to finally push himself against you, your back hitting a locker.

"Oh, god." Stiles muttered against your lips. "This means you like me back...right?" He asks as he began to kiss your cheek and jaw, leading all the way to your neck, as his hand slipt around your waist.

"No, Stiles." You sarcastically say, making him chuckle against your skin. You grab his face, bringing him back to your face. "Kissing you doesn't mean I like you." You kiss him, your tongues eagerly meeting.

"I'm glad you've picked up my sacrasm." He says, continusously kissing you. "Otherwise that would hurt."

You smile into the kiss, your head buzzing with this reality. You had begun to unbutton his jeans, making his breath hitch, but he quickly grabs your hand, making you meet his gaze in question. "I didn't like hearing that the twins make you feel good." Stiles says, putting your hands over his shoulders, as he lead one of his hands back down.

He unbuttoned your jeans, slipping his hand inside making you grip his shirt. "I want to make you feel good." Stiles kisses you, as he reaches your panties, pushing them aside as he finds your wetness. You jolt when his fingers find your clit. "Much better than them." He whispered as he began to rub your pussy, circling around.

"Christ." You whispered into his neck, before your head hit back against the locker.

Stiles trailed one finger to your hole, pushing inside, making you whimper. "At first I was hurt, because you were my friend not theirs." Stiles said as he pushed another finger inside you making your hips stutter. "But now that doesn't matter, because you can be their freind all you like." Stiles littered kisses along you collerbone and neck. "As long as I can kiss and touch you like this." He grinned against your skin as you moaned, his pace quickening.

"Oh, god— please." You breathe, finding your hand in his hair. You kiss him, letting your lips bruise as he laps at your tongue. Stiles then kisses your cheeks. "You look so cute when you blush."

Your cheeks had heated due to the actions given by Stiles. "I thought you got annoyed when I b-blushed."

Stiles chuckles, curling his fingers inside you. You pant, sweat forming across your forehead. "That's only because you were blushing for Aiden. But now your blushing for me." Stiles smiles. “All for me."

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mrspasser · 3 months

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I'll lay my head down here

Sterek fanfiction Stiles needs a place to sleep. He chooses Derek.

Also available on A03.

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“I’m not sleeping on the floor again, you assholes!” Stiles throws a balled up burger wrapper at the infuriating werewolves who took over his intended sleeping space.

Isaac bats the greasy paper ball away with a quick flick of his hand, hardly having to look at it. “You snooze, you lose, Stilinski,” he says meanly, as he snuggles deeper inside the couch pillows to drive his point home. “Besides, I gave up my bed, I shouldn’t be the one to sleep on the floor.”

Stiles perks up when an idea crosses his mind. Upstairs, in Isaac’s room, are Lydia and Cora. Maybe he could -

“Don’t even think about it, Stilinski!” Jackson cuts his unspoken thought off with one sharp remark. He glares at him from his spot on the couch he’s sharing with Isaac: one asshole werewolf on each side. The guy is extra touchy because Lydia picked Cora as a sleeping partner over him - which is more than fair, if you ask Stiles, both Lydia picking Cora over Jackson and Jackson being sour over getting the cold shoulder from his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I don’t think you’ll fit,” Allison offers apologetically from his right. She’s squeezed in the large armchair with Scott, who’s already fast asleep and snoring softly.

He waves her offer away. If he’d try to squish himself in the chair with them, neither one of them would sleep a wink all night. Same goes for the couple in the other available chair, although Stiles is more sure to survive the night with Scott and Allison than with Boyd and Erica. That only leaves -

“You could try Derek?” Allison blinks innocently at him.

Stiles huffs a laugh, letting the sarcasm bleed through in generous helpings. “Yeah, right.” He leaves it at that, too tired to hope to put up the proper facade of pretending to dislike the Alpha werewolf. Hey, we all deal with our crushes in our own way! Stiles has to do what he can when literally living with a pack of wolves, who can smell pheromones and who knows what else.

Eventually, he settles for stretching out on the rug that Lydia made Derek buy a while back. It’s not overly cushiony, but it’ll do the job. It’ll have to. Besides, he hasn’t had a proper night of sleep in four or maybe even five days, staying up researching and worrying most of the night. The Big Bad is dead, the worrying is over and his research paid off: he should be able to sleep now, right?!

At first, Stiles uses his hoodie for a pillow, yet after about twenty minutes he gives up and pulls it back on because he won’t be able to sleep if he’s cold. Derek patched up most of the holes in his loft and it’s actually resembling a nice apartment these days, but it’s still the middle of the night in February and Stiles is lying on the floor without a blanket or a pillow. He misses his own bed. His comforter. His pillow. His other pillow, the one that’s older than him and oddly lumpy, but it was the one that was in his mother’s bed until the day she died. It hasn’t smelled like her in a long, long time. Stiles has also washed it a couple of times during the years, he’s not that much of a pig, despite popular opinion. But it’s familiar and comforting and he still takes it with him for sleepovers with Scott.

He considers whether or not he would’ve brought his pillow if this impromptu sleepover had been planned in any way. He’s known Scott since kindergarten, he’s his best friend. He wouldn’t say or even think anything bad about Stiles still needing a special pillow to sleep even when he’s almost twenty one years old. And while he knows most of the people in this room for five years or even longer and trusts them with his life, that doesn’t mean that they’re not a bunch of dickheads who will tease him every chance they get.

It’s a pointless thought exercise, because nothing about this sleepover was planned. They were supposed to kill that wyvern during the day, when it slept in his creepy little cave. That's what all Stiles’ research was for! He even found a way to kill the beast without having to hack it to pieces, which was nice because in the end he was against animal cruelty, you know? But then there were witches, two of them. They weren’t planned, neither was the ensuing fight in the woods. The unexpectedness of it all had left everybody antsy, especially the werewolves. And even though they recouped with a movie night and a nice pack pile, nobody wanted to be very far away from the others. Hence the impromptu sleepover that had Stiles sleeping on a rug, between the coffee table and the couch. Which wasn’t fair, because he totally knocked a witch out with his bat! He did his fair share and pulled his weight and what not. The least he deserves is a nice night of sleep.

Another hour later, Stiles is sore all over and chilled to the bone. There’s no way he can sleep like this. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he whispers to the leg of the coffee table that he knows has Isaac’s claw marks on it.

As quietly as he can he makes his way upstairs on the rounding stairs. On the landing there’s three doors to choose from: the one on his left leads to Isaac’s bedroom, where Lydia and Cora are sleeping. The one in the middle is the bathroom - with a bath, for heaven’s sake, Derek has a tub! - and that leaves the master bedroom on his right. The Alpha’s den. Stiles has never been inside it. He even doubts if Isaac has set foot in the room very often, besides for cleaning purposes.

Stiles never really intended to go into Derek’s room, because despite what the others seem to think, he actually values his life. And his dignity. He thought it better to take a chance with the girls, take on the risk of Jackson wanting to kill him the next morning when he discovered Stiles had slept in the same bed as his girlfriend.

But…

The door to Derek’s bedroom is cracked.

Stiles can see inside.

He can’t see that much, with it being the middle of the night and the only light coming from a gap between the curtains in front of Derek’s window. But the moonlight is just right, illuminating the sleeping form of the Alpha in the bed. A bed that is more than large enough for two people and Derek is neatly sleeping on one side of the bed. If Stiles is quiet enough he might even be able to slip into the bed without waking Derek. The werewolf got hurt pretty badly today and healing always takes a lot out of him. There’s a pretty good chance the guy is sleeping like a log.

Stiles takes a deep breath. He’s gonna risk it.

***

He didn’t think he’d actually do it, but after a few minutes of indecisiveness on the landing, Stiles quietly tiptoes into Derek’s bedroom. He rounds the bed to the unoccupied side of the mattress and gingerly lifts the tip of the blanket.

“You’re not getting in with your jeans on,” Derek says, without opening his eyes.

Stiles yelps and he’s already stammering halfway through an apology when he suddenly shuts his mouth. His back teeth actually click together. There’s a few seconds of silence and then: “You’d let me into your bed?”

“Not with your jeans on,” Derek repeats. Usually he wouldn’t do this, but he’s been listening to Stiles toss and turn downstairs for a while now and with all of his pack members sleeping peacefully, he’d like the last one to get some rest too. Besides, Stiles would continue to keep him up with his restless behaviour otherwise; Derek just can’t seem to tune him out. It’s been that way for years already, maybe even from the beginning.

“O-kay.” He can feel Stiles staring at him in the dark and he patiently waits for the decision he knows the boy is gonna make. No, not a boy. Stiles will be 21 this Spring. Derek has seen him grow up, literally and figuratively, along with the rest of his ragtag pack of teenagers. Stiles still wears jeans and plaid most of the time, but the garments don’t hang as loose on him as they did when he was 16. He’s grown into a handsome young man, with a good head on his broad shoulders. Derek counts himself lucky to have Stiles as part of his pack, to have him close. Not as close as he sometimes might wish, yet Derek is always conscious of not playing favourites. So he usually keeps Stiles at an arm length and takes care to treat him just like everyone else. It helps that the two of them elevated snark and banter to an effective communication style. Despite all the sarcasm and barbs, Derek is pretty sure there is no-one in his pack who sees through him like Stiles does. It was scary at first and it made him lash out, but Stiles stood firm. Derek is immensely grateful that he did.

There’s the rustling of clothing hitting the floor, jeans and a shirt, then the blanket lifts and Stiles scoots underneath. Derek feels him settle in behind his back, a foot or so away. “Thanks,” Stiles whispers in the dark.

“Go to sleep,” Derek grunts, eager to go to sleep and not think about the young man who is sharing his bed.

***

Derek’s bed is pretty comfortable, Stiles thinks to himself as he digs himself in. Oh, who is he kidding?! Derek’s bed is amazing. The mattress is just the right combination of firm and soft, the pillow hugs his head and shoulders just right and the comforter is warm but still light to the touch. It’s a million times better than his bed at home, even when he’s not counting the fact that he’s sharing the bed with a hot werewolf.

Yet Stiles can’t sleep.

Yes, the pillow is heavenly. Yes, the mattress allows his tired body to finally relax. Yes, the comforter hugs him nicely. But there’s something missing and Stiles knows exactly what it is. His pillow.

He needs to hold something. He needs to be able to curl around something. Or someone, his traitorous brain suggests as he feels Derek move across from him.

“Why aren’t you asleep, Stiles?” Derek asks in that long-suffering tone he uses when Stiles is doing something to annoy him. Which is pretty often, although Stiles knows the annoyance is mostly for show these days. He has turned onto his back, his eyes glinting in the moonlight where they are looking over at Stiles.

“Can’t,” Stiles laments, trying to catch the comforter between his arms in lieu of his dearly missed pillow. It doesn’t really work, because the comforter also has to cover Derek’s bulk and there’s little left to use. Little to none, especially when Derek snatches the comforter back from where it was probably leaving a cold gap on Derek’s other side. The sudden move has Stiles sort of falling over from where he was laying on his side. He’s more on his front now, filling up the space that was between them at first. He can feel the warmth of Derek’s body from just a few inches away. It’s actually kind of comforting.

“Try harder,” Derek commands and he closes his eyes again.

Stiles thinks of answering ‘Yes, Alpha’, but thinks better of it. It might make Derek move again, to push Stiles out of bed instead of pulling him in to have a cuddle. So he stays quiet and closes his eyes, focussing his mind on the almost tangible presence of Derek’s bare shoulder mere inches away. Derek is warm and smells nice and if Stiles was a werewolf, he’s sure he’d feel even better about having his Alpha so close. Yet even though he’s not a werewolf, he still enjoys it. A lot.

He falls asleep.

He knows that, because he wakes up at some point, at an unknown hour of the night. He’s warm, so warm. And comfortable, even though his pillow is a lot firmer than he remembers it being. It also moves a little, because his pillow is Derek and the Alpha werewolf gently moves his arm in what Stiles suspects is a more comfortable position. He would panic about sleeping half on top of Derek if he were not so damn comfortable. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. Surely if Derek wouldn’t want him sleeping on him, he’d push Stiles off. Instead, Stiles feels Derek’s arm wrap around his back, accompanied by a soft sigh from the Alpha.

Stiles sleeps.

***

Derek is not the first to wake up, although he is certainly not the last. He becomes aware of the world with Stiles wrapped around his torso, his head pillowed on Derek’s chest. He’s only a little surprised by how good it feels to wake up like this and it takes a while before he brings himself to carefully move out of Stiles’ embrace. The boy mumbles a little, but doesn’t wake up. Derek watches him for a moment, standing beside his bed. He’s not sure how to feel about this, except for some embarrassment about wanting to crawl back into bed and slot himself back into Stiles’ arms.

Downstairs, most of the pack is still asleep. Isaac has his arms wrapped around Jackson’s lower legs, as if he’s cuddling a particularly bony teddy bear. Jackson is still asleep, even snoring softly. Scott snores too, curled around his girlfriend in the large armchair. In the other armchair, Boyd is watching him carefully, his arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend.

“Morning,” the dark man rumbles quietly, not to wake Erica.

“Morning,” Derek answers, keeping his voice down as well. “Coffee?”

Boyd inclines his head in thanks and Derek ambles on to the kitchen, where he finds Lydia, immersed in a science journal. She has a cappuccino sitting in front of her, the cup half empty. “Good morning, Derek,” she says, briefly glancing up from her reading material.

“Morning,” he repeats, busying himself with the coffee maker. He brings a cup to Boyd when he’s done and returns to join Lydia at the table. He sits back in his chair, his coffee in front of him, to catch the rays of pale sunlight that slant through the high windows. It’s quiet in the loft, with most of the people still sleeping and the ones that are awake quietly starting up their day.

He sips from his coffee, listening to the sounds of Cora waking up and going into the bathroom. She comes downstairs not long after, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt - same as her brother, her bare feet hardly making a sound. He points to the mostly full pot of coffee on the counter when she enters the kitchen and he gets a hair ruffle as thanks from his little sister. She pours herself a cup and leans against the counter, enjoying the sunlight on her face just like he is.

It’s Stiles who comes down next, although Derek can hear from the way he drags his feet that he’s barely awake. Why he’s not sleeping in like he should be, is anyone’s guess. He expects Stiles to stop in the living room, to wake up Scott or maybe even Jackson if he’s feeling particularly cheeky, but he doesn’t. The footsteps pretty much make a beeline from the stairs towards the kitchen. Derek opens one eye from where he closed them against the sunrays to see Stiles shuffling towards him in his boxers and T-shirt, rubbing a hand over his face and yawning soundlessly. His hair is standing up on one side. He’s wearing socks, navy blue ones with a red line near the toes.

The werewolf opens his mouth to point his packmate towards the coffee maker, but before he can say anything, Stiles has reached his chair and slings a hairy leg over his lap. He plonks down unceremoniously and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around his waist.

“You were gone,” Stiles mumbles disapprovingly, his mouth moving against Derek’s collarbone. And just like that his heartbeat evens out and he’s fast asleep again.

Derek sits frozen in his chair, his heart beating loudly inside his ribcage. If Stiles were awake he could probably feel it pound against his own chest. His hands hover uselessly on either side, not knowing whether to wrap around Stiles or pick him up and toss him to the floor.

Stiles is oblivious, his sleeping body moulding easily against Derek’s. He’s warm and pliant, just like he was when they were sleeping together in Derek’s bed.

When he chances a look at Lydia across the table, she’s already watching him steadily with a sly smile playing around the corners of her lips. “Glad to see you two finally got your heads out of your asses,” she comments eventually, before primly taking a sip from her cappuccino and going back to her reading.

Behind him, Cora snorts quietly in amusement. She comes up at his back and puts a hand in his hair again, running her fingers through the short strands. It’s grounding and Derek only notices how much he needs that when she lightly scratches her nails across his scalp.

“He’s cute like this,” his sister remarks and even though he can hear the humour in her voice, he can also hear the truth in her heartbeat. “Best not wake him up, big bro.” She runs her hand through his hair one last time and then she wanders off, leaving him to carefully wrap one arm around Stiles’ lower back.

Slowly, Derek feels himself relax. The loft is quiet and peaceful and Derek is in his own little bubble, with the sunlight on his face and Stiles in his lap. Almost automatically, he starts to rub his hand slowly up and down Stiles’ back. Aside from some sleepy snuffling, there’s no real response. Derek picks his coffee back up and slowly drinks it, tilting his face towards the sun. It’s a nice morning.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #written by ilse #derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #pre relationship #ilse writes fanfiction

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ponett · 2 months

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Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!

#rakruined #ask #slarpg asks

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fox-mulder-gets-pegged · 1 year

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Been spending my time lately thinking of a House MD au where, through a series of accidents and lies and a bet he didn't rly intend to win, House ends up as a registered foster parent (he's still addicted to Vicodin and his normal dickish workaholic self but for some reason he cleared the requirements and trust me he's as stunned and mildly concerned as everyone else is).

Through further Shenanigans™, he ends up accidentally getting handed fostership of not one, not two, but three hellish but brilliant kids:

1. This total smartass 16 year old named Robert Chase who yeah he's a bitchy teenaged boy and a former rich kid and Australian with enough mommy and daddy issues to reawaken Freud after his dad dipped and absconded all parental rights and his mom drank herself to death, but he's also got a nice car left over from his rich kid days and an eye for detail and weirdly enough his best friend/mortal enemy (some other teen named Eric Foreman) and his on again off again girlfriend (Allison Cameron, totally won't last if u ask House) both work at the hospital as a candy striper and after school in the cafeteria respectively so House can get all the inside gossip from Chase. Plus Chase has no problems breaking and entering into patient's homes which helps bc since he's not employed by the hospital Cuddy can't complain as far as House is concerned.

2. A 14 year old girl who only answers to Thirteen (House knows he could look her name up in her file but honestly it drives Chase nuts that she won't tell him her real name and that's good enough for him) and who's dad was declared unfit after the death of his wife to Huntington's devastated him. She's a total nightmare, snarky and quick witted and freakishly smart even tho she puts most of those smarts towards things like shaving Chase's entire head (eyebrows included) bc he's trying to grow a sucky teenage mustache, and trying to take House's wallet bc she keeps calling him Old Man and he informed her he's actually only 25 but the stress of fostering has aged him prematurely and she's like 95% sure that's a lie but she wants to check his license and make sure bc everyone lies. She loves tormenting Chase by telling him his best friend and/or his girlfriend is hot and asking if they're single.

And 3. This 6 year old boy named Lawrence Kutner who's weirdly cheerful considering his parents got killed in front of him. He's way too chatty and excellent at puzzles and the only morning person in the entire house and therefore frequently tries to make breakfast (he likes to be helpful and he hasn't burned the place down yet so House doesn't feel the need to stop him). Once he told House he was gonna build a Death Star in the living room and House said lol sure go ahead whatever, only to return home from work to discover Kutner called himself out from school and has a huge wooden frame made of broken furniture in the living room. House rly can't argue since he did say go ahead. Benefits of fostering a 6 year old are 1. The babes love it, 2. Free excuse to leave work early/come in late/not show up at all, and 3. Justification for buying juice boxes and Ritz crackers. The neighbor kid Taub is his go to babysitter bc his mom volunteered him forcibly and Taub is lowkey praying that babysitting Kutner could lead to an in at Princeton Plainsboro once he graduates high-school and finishes medical school (it won't, House doesn't believe in nepotism unless it benefits him).

The adventures of House and his Foster Ducklings mostly revolve around being a Found Family, but do involve frequent plots such as:

House fired his brand new fellows again (he tosses em every three or so months, he hasn't found The Right Team yet) and will sometimes bring his foster kids in, hand em doctors coats, and tell patients that they're just a bunch of medical savants here to consult yes even the 6 year old he's actually Harvard's youngest graduate ever.

House sends the kids to break into a patient's home. They refuse. House tells them the first one to find black mold or lead paint or a dead animal or whatever gets $20. They agree. Chase drops Thirteen and Kutner off at a bus stop across town and drives over himself so he can get an hour and a half head start (ultimate fuck them kids moment, however Thirteen did steal his wallet so guess who's paying for lunch and their taxi ride to the patient's house? Net loss.)

Cuddy demands House does his clinic hours. House sends his foster kids to do his clinic hours for him. Tfw you go to the free walk in clinic for a sore throat and a cough and your doctor is a 6 year old boy who keeps asking for help with spelling whilst filling out your chart.

Wilson babysits them one (1) time since House doesn't trust Chase not to throw a party or sell his foster siblings on eBay if left as the one in charge. He wakes up with a big strip of hair poorly bleached right down the middle. Chase crushed up stolen sleeping pills and mixed them into a juice box, which Kutner 'innocently' offered to Wilson. Thirteen was going to bleach and dye his whole head blue (for practice, she wants to dye her hair but she's certainly not gonna fuck up her own hair until she has the method down) but Wilson woke up pretty quickly due to years of House drugging him. Wilson has not offered to babysit again.

Anyways this is my House Foster Ducklings au which I'm thinking about actually writing. Thank u 🫡

#house md #greg house #robert chase #remy hadley #lawrence kutner #i just think Chase and Thirteen and Kutner are the most House's Actual Kids out of all the fellows #give that man three incredibly smart self reliant kids with issues™#i do imagine a plot where House does overdose of vicodin #and the kids find him #and they're in the hospital #and House has to contend with the fact that he either has to give the kids up to better homes #or make smarter choices bc it's unfair of him to be overdosing and almost dying when he has three traumatized kids relying on him #love when there's some middle aged guy whos like 'no im not a dad' but has a gaggle of kids following him around #feel free to message me about this au

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sarascamander · 2 months

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What I want in season 4:

1) I don't think we'll get the full story of how Five founded the Commission but I at least want Five to create his own time traveling briefcase with his power so it foreshadows that Five founded the Commission and have the potential ability to do so. Maybe he used it to return to the original timeline or whatnot (this assuming if they got their power back)

2) Five and Allison interaction!!! I'm not lying when I say that Five and Allison have the least interaction in the show and they deserve a moment! And not with Nice Allison either, but emo heartbroken Allison! I want to see them argue and have one to one conversation (or combat, who knows)

3) Viktor playing the violin. Come on, it's the last season, he deserves to play it for the last time (w/o destroying the world, ofc)

4) Diego and Lila's kid to be named "Grace" because Diego loves his mom so much and Grace deserves a tribute honestly.

5) I don't actually mind if Luther didn't find Sloane. I mean, they're cute but they know each other for literal days. I just wish Luther would grow on his own and while searching for Sloane, he realized that maybe they rushed things and while they do love and care for each other, they still take their time to rebuild their relationship and get to know each other all over again.

6) Ben and Diego to form a duo because they hate each other's gut so much it's hilarious. (I honestly don't know what my expectation is for Ben but I wish he opened up a bit to the Brellies)

7) Abigail's character to be evil. Idk why, I just want her to be worse than Reggie lmao or at least, his match.

8) like Ben, idk what to expect from Klaus and I really couldn't predict what he'll do in s4. He's always a wild card.

9) I read some fanfics that Five, Lila and Diego live together and it's canon to me now. Nothing can change this fact.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #allison hargreeves

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slvthrs · 11 months

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ALL THE THINGS WE NEVER SAID | vinnie hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

after 3 years you finally reunite with vinnie but it's not how you would like

OLD BSF!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, ANGSTY, + some fluff, sex, alcohol ment, drug use (weed), making out, grinding, praise kink, emotional cheating idk, slight possessiveness

word count: 2.5k <3

The air is so salty on LA beaches.

It burns the inside of my throat whilst chlorine fills up my nose and salt in my eyes but the waves are nicer than Seattle. Warmer too.

I can feel the sand bed on my toes and shells scraping the sides of my legs as I float out peering and the sky and the way the shades of orange and yellow melt away at the baby blue and how the sun looks so majestic at this time.

I’m still slightly tipsy from the drinks we had earlier but I'm not incapacitated, it's just a nice buzz, it reminds me of when I lay my head down in the grass and I can hear the tiny shuffling of ants.

But apparently I’m still drunk enough to not hear my friends shouting from shore for me to come back until I feel a hand on mine pulling me out.

“Jesus, I thought you were gonna drown out there.” It’s Harvey, I love Harvey. He always smells like strawberries and smokes with me without judging.

“I wasn’t, let me like the ocean in peace you guys are assholes.” I retorted but I didn't stop walking with him back to the shore with my friends.

I fall back onto the plush of the towel as Harvey joins everyone else in a game of beach volleyball.

Well everyone except me… and Vinnie.

Vinnie, the same guy that I was inseparable for 10 years, now seeing him for the first time in 3.

The same guy I fell in love with at 13 and who broke my heart at 17.

That Vinnie.

He’s sitting right in front of me in his shorts leaning back looking at everyone playing.

He has tattoos now and is much bigger. His hair is darker and face is more aged. He dresses better now and looks a lot happier but besides that he's still the same Vinnie.

I tuck my legs into my chest and rest my head on my knees, letting myself take in everything that changed about him to distract me from the cold wind tangling up my hair.

He finally looks back at me and something about it makes me still smile after all these years.

“M’ sorry I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” I mumble and then look away from him.

“Why are you sorry? I love seeing you.” He still has that same warmth in his voice that I fell in love with all those years ago.

“Just… I don’t know, I figured it’d be weird for you and her.” There's a maliciousness in my voice that I didn’t even know I could muster.

“Right… Allison.” He takes a deep breath, “ She likes you, don't worry!”

Allison, Vinnie’s new girlfriend of two months, she’s really sweet and a genuinely kind person but I can’t bring myself to like her.

I feel so pathetic, being in love with the same boy who hurt me all those years ago and who was able to move on whilst I stayed where I was. The same 17 year old stuck in bed the night Vinnie told me he loved me.

“Do you wanna go smoke?”

I don’t think I’ve ever said no to that question from Vinnie but now it’s different.

“Shouldn’t you ask her first?” I say averting my gaze from him and playing with my nails.

“She hates when I smoke so probably not,” He gets up and walks to me giving me his hand, “Get up.”

…

“Get up!”

“Vinnie fuck off this shit is broken.” I stand up and shove the skateboard into his chest.

“C’mon you barely even tried it’s actually very fun, please I wanna teach you!” He says beaming in the sun and smiling at me whilst I try to clean the cuts on my legs.

“You're a shit teacher, Hacker!”

We’ve been at this skatepark for four hours and the only thing I can do is go in a straight line and wiggle a bit and Vinnie knows how much I hate things I don’t get the hang of quickly.

“You're torturing me Vinnie, I’m gonna leave here with a cut off leg or something!” I cry out

“You're gonna be fine, I'm not gonna let you get hurt.” He pouts in a faux puppy dog face

“I hate you so much.”

“Stop being a pussy!”

…

“Stop being a pussy Vin.” He’s been dragging me to this secluded part of the beach for 5 minutes

“My girlfriend hates smokers, I really don’t wanna get into another fight tonight.” He sighs

Another?

“Why don’t you try to quit? I know you want to, you hate smoking.”

“It’s easier said than done- See we're here, you're just lazy!”

“Tell me something I don’t know, genius.” I half-joke

The view is nice, like really nice. It's so much quieter and less people means you can see the ocean without any distractions.

I lay down on the sand forgetting about the fact I'll be covered in it when I get up- That's a problem for me in the future.

He takes out a mini bong and packs it whilst I lay there and close my eyes.

This is nice, it reminds me of when we were younger. I was actually the first person to introduce Vinnie to weed and it kinda became our ritual, he would get the bing ready and I would wait patiently for him.

I can hear the bubbles and turn to look at him as he turns his head up, flexing his jaw and blowing the smoke out.

He always looks so pretty smoking.

“Do you ever miss it?” I ask, purposefully vague.

“Miss what?”

“Seattle?”

“Yeah, especially during the summer. It’s hard to miss it that much when I come back every month to see my family.” He replies by passing the bong to me along with the lighter as I sit up.

“But you never come visit me?” I turn my head and he looks away into the ocean

“I know… I wanted to but everytime I mustered up the courage something would get in the way… Plus whenever I saw your pictures you looked happy, I didn’t wanna fuck that up.”

“So your solution was to invite to to the beach with your new girlfriend and all your old friends instead of I don’t know, talking to your fucking bestfriend instead of ignoring her for 3 years making her feel like she fucked up?” It come out in a condescending tone

Every sour emotion that I held against Vinnie is bubbling up. Every emotion I felt when I saw a picture of him with his new friends, when he got his first girlfriend in LA, when he won that stupid fucking match and didn’t even reply to my dm congratulating him.

“I know I fucked up trust me,” The bong is still in my hands, lying their idly like a forgotten childrens toy, “But even if I did talk to you whenever I would come back I wouldn’t even know what to say to you.”

“Oh fuck off Vinnie, you could have said anything, I was waiting for you to say anything. Apologies are two words but you couldn’t even muster that up? God I hate you so much.”

I don’t.

“I’m sorry,” He breathes in, “I’m sorry I stopped talking to you, I’m sorry I fucked everything up, I’m sorry I never actually told you how I felt, I’m sorry I made you feel like it was your fault, I’m sorry I ruined the friendship, and I’m so sorry I never said this earlier to you. Your my favourite person and I fucked everything over cause I was to scared of loving you.”

He breathes out.

We both just sit there in silence, I’m getting colder by the minute but I don’t move. The apology I waited 3 years for finally arrived but I don’t feel any better. I just wanted Vinnie to say something to make all the pain feel worth it and then everything to go back the way it was.

“It wasn’t entirely your fault for ruining the friendship.”

…

“You promise this won't ruin our friendship Vin.”

“I promise you, and you trust me so relax.”

His lips slot in between mine, he pulls me closer to him as my hands thread through his hair.

It’s rough. I should have bought him new shampoo for his 18th.

“Your lips are so soft, I love them.” He whispers to me in between kisses as I lay my body over his and he guides my hips over his dick, rutting into him.

“You suck as dirty talk.” I giggle before going back to make out with him.

I let my lips trail down to his jawline leaving faint kisses there as he holds me close to him so I can feel the way his chest rises and falls. My hands drag down his torso and then up inside his shirt. My kisses falter as they reach his neck and I start sucking love bites into them and hear his hiss and whimper above me.

“Feels s’ good baby.” He breathes out, letting his hands rest at my waist as his thumb circles the area soothing the skins there.

When I’m done he flips the two of us over so now he’s above me with my hands pinned to my sides.

He locks his lips into mine again, my whole body melts into the kiss, I lean into him, shutting my eyes, letting myself save the memory. I moan into his mouth as he pulls the kiss closer to him in a tantalizing fight for more dominance.

As he pulls back, his eyes meet mine and I get lost in the honey brown, I study the features on his face at this moment, intent to not forget a thing. He looks back at me with a small smile.

His hands free mine and let me hook my hands around his neck. I pull him closer to my body as he kisses down my neck whilst his hands go under my shirt.

“Say you want this baby.” His gasps

“Please, I need you so bad, I want you bad.” I beg

His hand undone my pants pulling them off leaving me in just my shirt and panties.

Vinnie lifts himself up to take off his shirt, letting my hands graze through his body as he undoes his belt and pants and throws them on the floor, then taking his dick out of his boxer, pumping it up in his hand whilst reaching over into his dresser for a condom.

I lean my head back and stare into the ceiling waiting for him before he pulls my panties to the side and slowly lets his cock stretch me out as I arch into his touch.

His pace is relenting, I clutch his shoulder for stability and cry out into his neck, his thumb is circling my clit, his free hand holds us up and his eyebrows are knitted together in focus even though his lips keep kissing my body to make sure I’m okay.

“Feel good, you're not hurt angel?”

“No, fuck, god no, feels good Vin.” I say, barely able to make any full sentences.

It’s not long until I cum under him, I drag my nails across his back and scream into his neck to make sure I’m quiet enough and Vinnie rides me out through my high as a gasp and falls back into his bed.

It’s not long after Vinnie comes and places a kiss on my forehead before getting us a towel and me some water to clean up. He gave me my favorite sweatshirt of his, a red Seattle shirt that I ended up cutting the collar off so it wouldn’t stay on my shoulder.

“I love you.” He whispers before laying his face into my shoulder.

I end up falling asleep in his arms as he pulls me closer to him.

In the morning I’m alone in his bed and in his house and I end up going back to my own, lying saying I was with a friend.

It wasn’t until that night until I got a call from Reggie telling me that Vinnie had left for LA last night.

I ended up giving Vinnie’s sweater back to Reggie.

…

“It might not have been my entire fault but I still left in the middle of the night, in my bed, in my shirt, without telling you.” He reminds me, snapping me back from reality.

I lie back down into the sand taking a hit of the forgotten bong and then placing it on my side, Vinnie copies me.

It’s quiet, I like it.

Back home me and Vinnie would always sit in the same room doing our own things, he would game whilst I’d play with Poncho or message my friends. Being in the same atmosphere was relaxing for each other.

Now it’s just tense.

“Vinnie,” I look at him, “Do you ever miss me?”

He laughs.

“Everyday, every time I go to the beach, every time my friends talk about love, every time I remember home you're always there. I don’t think I could ever not miss you.” He turns his head to look at me.

I really do miss him. I miss going to his house after a long day, I miss skipping classes together and smoking weed, I miss telling him everything. I miss him so much it hurts.

“Everything could have been so different.” I chuckle

“Yeah, we could have both still be in University together, we could have both still be in Seattle. Hell could have actually gotten together.” He laughs but I finally look back at him.

We fall back into our comfortable silence letting the ocean waves wash over us. It's dark out now and you can see the moons and the stars. It’s calming.

It’s a short lived calm however since his phone rings and he jerks up to pick it up.

I don’t listen until I hear him call the person on the line ‘baby’. It’s Allison… his girlfriend.

Our time ’s up, so I pick up my things which are just myself and a bong whilst Vinnie ends the call and we walk back to where everyone is in silence.

We get back and Allison runs into Vinnies arms placing kisses all over his face and tugs him down to sit at the bonfire.

I lean my head on to Harveys shoulder as I zone as I eat the burger he made for me but as I look up I see Vinnie staring at me but as soon as he sees me looking back at him he looks down at his plate.

Before we realize it turns to 1 in the morning and I’m ready to go to sleep. Harvey is dropping me off and Chloe is coming with us.

Vinnie is leaving with Allison as she drags him away but he stops as he sees me.

Before Vinnie leaves he gives me a bag with something inside and hugs me without saying a word.

It’s a hoodie. The hoodie. A red Seattle crewneck with a cut collar. The hoodie he gave me the night he told me he loved and then left. And he left again. Leaving me with nothing but his stupid hoodie and all the things we never said.

#bella fawns over vhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagines #vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie x reader fluff #bella's full works #vinnie hacker angst #vinnie x reader angst #vinnie hacker x reader angst

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asteriismos · 2 years

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closer - ben hargreeves

PAIRING ◆ sparrow!ben hargreeves x umbrella!reader

WARNING(S) ◆ SMUT, rough sex, choking, me losing my sanity, unedited, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering,

SUMMARY ◆ instead of luther getting held hostage by the sparrows, it’s you, and you and ben do not get along. hate sex basically.

WORDS ◆ 3.9k

NOTE ◆ . . . i have nothing to say tbh. this is justified in every way.

»»————-　✼　————-««

It was unlike you to get yourself into these types of situations.

If anything, you thought that you were one of the more responsible members of The Umbrella Academy. You didn’t get yourself into harm's way like your other siblings did and you were notorious for being the one with your head on your shoulders, even throughout the mess of the apocalypse – or both of them, for that matter, as your family seemed to be stuck in the sticky situation of constantly saving the world.

You thought that you were finally done with all of this. Five had finally figured out a way to get you all back into the future, away from Dallas, and back to the way that things were supposed to be without the apocalypse. You could finally go back to your normal life and maybe make something of yourself. But things were never that easy and when your family made their way back to the future and back to your childhood home, you were met with the same house, the same absent father, but a different group of superheroes. As if you thought your father couldn’t get any worse, he hated you so much in Dallas that he adopted a whole other group of children, and renamed them The Sparrow Academy. And to make matters even worse, they were a bunch of assholes.

Your siblings and you had gotten beaten to a pulp by them less than a day ago, and no one seemed to be doing anything productive. Allison wanted to get back to her family, Diego wanted to start a new life, and Five seemed like he was ready to leave and start his so-called ‘retirement.’ And to be honest, that didn’t sound half bad. You thought that maybe it was time you did the same thing, since there seemed to be nothing wrong anymore.

And that’s exactly what you tried to do, you really tried. You were minding your own business, walking through Central Park when you were taken by The Sparrow Academy. You couldn’t put up much of a fight either, since that floating cube of whatever (who they called Christopher, but you were still confused as to how it was an actual person) was able to lift you up and the one who looked like Ben but wasn’t actually Ben put his foot straight to your face, knocking you unconscious. That had been three days ago, and since then, you weren’t really being treated like a hostage – but you were one, in your own home. Well . . . was it your own home if you technically don’t exist in this timeline? Seemed like a question you should ask Five, if he was here with you.

The Sparrows weren’t actually half bad. In some ways, they reminded you of your own family. They grew up the same way as you, technically, but they didn’t rebel against your father like you had. They liked being the center of attention of the city and they liked being a part of a team. You could respect that, if only all of them were nice like Sloane or Alphonso and not the raging cunt that Ben was.

It was hard for you to believe that Ben in this timeline was such an ass, because the Ben that you knew was nothing like that. He was kind, always there for everyone, and the glue that really held the whole family together. There was always the notion that if Ben hadn’t died, there was a chance that the Umbrella Academy would still be together and things wouldn’t have gotten so messed up. But the Ben in this timeline wanted nothing to do with you, and he was an overzealous ass that only cared about himself, it seemed like sometimes he didn't really even care about his own family. And he wanted nothing to do with you, but always made it a point to give you a hard time, no matter what you did, he always found a way to be a bitch to you.

He had yet to show up to dinner, where you're at the table despite being a hostage. Oh well, it was better than being locked in some type of cellar handcuffed. And then you heard the door open and it took everything in you not to groan out, and instead you rolled your eyes to yourself and waited for him to sit down next to you, which he always did. Ben found every way to get on your nerves.

Ben walked over in his usual fashion, which you deemed as strutting, but others didn’t see the humor in it. Maybe it was just because every time he was even in the same room as you, you felt the need to insult something about him, you had to keep him grounded, right?

“Good evening, Y/N.”

“Oh, it was,” you said to him, glancing in his direction and then instantly going back to your food. from the corner of your eye you could see as his face feigned hurt, then he immediately went to talk with Fei about some mission that Reginald had assigned them on a while ago. It was something that they had been working on before you and your family had shown up and ‘ruined everything’ as Ben liked to say. You wanted to quip that you found it funny that he still listened to the orders of his father, being old enough to go on his own and take lead if he wanted to, but you didn’t want to get into a fight at the moment. Your position here was complicated anyways.

Dinner was, for the most part, uneventful. The only thing that happened was Ben threatening to throw his chicken at you because you rolled your eyes at one of his comments, which didn’t end up happening because Sloane gave him that look and a stern ‘Ben.’

For the rest of the night you retired to your rooms, telling your captors that you would meet them in the morning, as if you had a choice on that matter.

You sat at the edge of your bed, kicking off your shoes and stretching your arms up. You set your phone (that seemed to not work no matter how many times you called your family to come and get you) down on the small nightstand you had and got dressed in something more comfortable for sleeping. The sun was fully down now, and the only thing that lit up your room was the tall lamp in the corner of your room and the distant lights of other buildings through your windows.

As you slipped into bed under the covers, you allowed your mind to wander. First, to your family, where you silently went over the details in your head to make sure you had them all memorized for when you came back to them and could tell them all you learned from being in the same home as your newfound enemies. Or were they frenemies? And the more you pondered, the more they landed on Ben.

It was strange, thinking of him. Typically you would be cringing at anything that included anything to do with Ben Hargreeves, but this time you allowed your mind to expand instead of bringing up the protective barriers like you always did. The calming effect of finally not clouding all your judgment with anger was almost enough to lull you to sleep.

That was until you heard a whisper, just the faintest, tiniest little sound that you were almost uncertain that you had even heard anything at all.

Your eyes stayed closed. There was a presence there, just on the outer barriers of your mind. There was silence, complete and utter silence and you were about to call it a night when-

You’re thinking about Ben?

You jolted up to sit, eyes snapping open and your head getting dizzy from the sudden shift in position. It was Fei’s voice, clear as day in your mind, that was what you were hearing. You heard the noise of a crow cawing from the corner of your room and your head turned, seeing that you were face to face with one of Fei’s crows, a bright, glowy aura presenting off of it. You knew that she was powerful, and she definitely could sense that you were thinking of Ben. The crow cocked its head to the side and you scowled.

And the worst thing was that she was still there. You could feel it. you put your hands on either side of your head and closed your eyes, opening your mouth and saying, “I was not.”

It was the weakest lie you had ever made in your life.

You’re such a liar, Fei chided. you could practically feel her smirk. Just admit it.

You groaned to yourself, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your face from the focus. “Goodnight, Fei,” you said to the crow and then reached to the bedside table and threw a book at the crow, which made it squawk and disappear into thin air.

Now you were wide awake, you were sure that there was no way you could get any sleep after that. You weren’t even angry at yourself for doing that, but more embarrassed that your thoughts had been exposed to Fei and there was no way that Ben wouldn’t find out - because you were thinking about him and he would take the opportunity to use it against you. You knew there was no way you were getting out of this tomorrow.

You busied yourself by looking through the room that they had given you, seeing if you could find any lore or information that would be of use, trying your best to basically bore yourself to the brink of sleep. And just as you thought it was beginning to work, you heard a knock on your door. Glancing at the clock, you saw that it was a little bit past midnight. Who the hell was at your door at this hour?

For a moment you stilled, thinking that perhaps it was a mistake and they would leave then you could finally try and sleep, but there was again another knock a few moments later. You finally stood up and made your way to the door, opening it and being greeted by none other than Ben. He was dressed in his comfort clothes and his hair was messy, like he had been awake for way too long.

He didn’t give you any time to say anything, instead pushing his way past you into your room. Your eyes widened and you took a peek outside into the halls to make sure that no one saw that. Luckily, the halls were dead. Closing your door and turning the lock, you faced him and stood there deadpanned, waiting for some kind of explanation.

“Well, don’t act all happy to see me,” he said sarcastically.

You laughed. “I'm not. What are you doing here? Do you understand what could happen if someone sees you and me in my bedroom alone?” There would be rumors spreading like wildfire, something that you definitely didn’t need to be confronted by the Sparrows or your own family. You hated to admit that you knew the exact reason he was here - because Fei seemed to spare no time in telling her brother what she had witnessed. But that still begged the question as to why he cared so much about it in the first place.

Ben rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. You took a second to look him over, seeing that the black shirt he was wearing was sheer enough for you to know what he was hiding under it. You shuddered, coming to your senses again and frowning. “You were thinking about me, and I think I deserve an explanation,” Ben told you, shrugging his large shoulders and cocking an eyebrow up. “You were thinking so loud. At least, that’s what my sister tells me. You know you should learn to know when crows are in the room. She’s always watching”

“I wasn’t trying to, I was trying to go to sleep.” you countered.

“You think of me while trying to sleep?”

Damn. Wrong thing to say. and now he was giving you a look, one that you’ve never seen before from him. His eyes were almost dark, filled with lust. You felt like your fucking legs were going to give out at the look that he was giving you. it was enough to make your face heat up and clear your throat, not having anything else to say, there really wasn’t anything to defend yourself with.

And it all happened so fast. One second you were both standing there, staring into each other’s eyes, and the next you both were walking towards each other and colliding your lips onto each other. The kiss was hot and searing, instantly making your head go dizzy at the feeling. His lips were soft, albeit a little harsh as his tongue forced its way into your mouth and prodded against your own. Ben’s hand came to grip your jaw, the other on the small of your back.

You attempted to grab onto him, get your hands on him as much as his were on you, but he didn’t let you, using the hand on your back to pull you closer to your bed. You were still kissing, lips starting to swell with the aggressiveness of the kiss.

You still hated him, you had to keep telling yourself that, even though just by kissing he was making you feel so good. No attachments were to be made, this was purely just acting on normal human instincts, right?

Soon enough the backs of your legs were hitting the edge of your bed, Ben pushed you down onto the bed like it was nothing and you were silly putty molding in his hands. He fell on top of you, instead of kissing you on the lips, he went for your neck, one of his hands came and grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it down, exposing your neck for him.

And he made sure that you would have to somehow cover all the marks he was making, because his teeth seemed to graze over every inch of your skin and lightly nip anywhere he wanted. And you felt dirty because you let him. You would let him do whatever he wanted to do to you.

Ben pulled away from you for a moment to pull his shirt off, discarding it to the floor and helping you to do the same with your shirt. You took a moment to look him over, seeing that his body was practically sculpted and personally handcrafted by the gods themselves, basically knocking the breath out of you. He noticed and you didn’t even care, instead of cringing at his smirk, you found it incredibly hot.

Your hands came to his torso, wrapping your legs around his waist as his mouth began kissing along your chest. You pressed your hips up against him, trying to get friction against your already wet core. Sadly, it wasn’t enough and you were left with whatever he decided to give you.

“Ben, please,” you whispered out towards him, looking down to watch him slip one of your nipples into his mouth, your mouth hung wide open. He came off of it with a ‘pop’ and tilted his head, waiting for you to finish whatever you were going to say.

“Please what?” Ben asked, going back to kissing your chest until he landed on your stomach and started painting masterpieces on your skin.

You made the tiniest sound, feeling sparks send right down below. “Just touch me already,” you stated, putting your hands in his hair and giving the locks of hair he had a good tug. He groaned against him, the vibrations going through your entire body. Ben came up face to face with you, pressing yet another kiss against your lips and pushing down your pants and underwear to the ground. You were now all exposed to him, while he still wore half of his outfit. You pouted at the unfairness but you knew it would get you nowhere now.

He held his hand out in front of you and for a moment you looked at him confused. He sensed this and said blankly, “spit.” You did what he asked and spit into his hand, watching as he took that same hand and touched your clit, feeling the wetness of your spit and your own mixing together. Your mouth hung open as he rubbed his fingers around, experimentally pushing the tip of his finger into you then immediately pulled it out.

You felt yourself almost whine, needing him to give you more or you felt like you would simply die on the spot. Right as you were about to say something, Ben’s other hand came and grasped onto your neck, his fingers digging into your skin and putting pressure on your throat.

Holy fuck.

Typically, you would be angry with how much control Ben had over you right now, but now you were just giving into it, liking that he was being rough with you. It was like a form of argument without the words and you were becoming addicted to it. He was able to make you feel so good and you were completely in his power.

Finally, as if he was putting some pity on you, one finger slipped into you, curling up and hitting a spot inside you that made you moan loudly. The hand choking you became stronger against your neck, his mouth coming to your ear and whispering, “Be quiet, you don’t want anyone to hear us and have this be over too soon, do you?” He was looking for an answer.

You shook your head, understanding that this would not be the best time to get caught by anyone else. You tried your best to keep yourself quiet as one finger pumped in you, the thumb of that same hand pressing against your clit and making your toes curl in pleasure. You could feel how hard he was against you and that made the fire in your stomach ablaze, nearing that edge desperately wanting some kind of release.

As soon as you felt yourself getting higher to that point, his hand came off your throat and his hand stopped moving, your eyes opened up and looked at him, who was busy pulling down his pants and grabbing his cock with his hand.

It didn’t take long for him to position himself at your entrance, his tip teasing you by rubbing it up and down against your slit. “Is this what you want?” Ben asked you, his other hand tracing down your body and coming to grip the side of your hip.

You nodded your head fervently. “Yes, Ben, please just fuck me already,” you said to him.

And that was all he needed before he was ramming himself into you, giving you no time to adjust, which was expected. You took the pain that came with his harsh motions, both of his hands gripping your hips with such force that you were sure that you were going to have bruises there in the morning in the shape of his hands.

Ben pounded into you, your voice was already hoarse from his choking and you made as quiet sounds as you could. All that anger you had for each other had bubbled up onto the surface and there was only the desire left, the sickly sweet feeling that you had only dreamed about with Ben in your deepest and darkest fantasies. You could never get tired of this, perhaps you should’ve initiated this sooner, or pushed his buttons so he would take it out on you this way.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Ben said in that deep, gravelly voice that basically sent you into orbit the second that it came past your lips. You were so far gone, head empty of any incoherent thought other than Ben Hargreeves. And he continued to move into you shamelessly, neither of you caring about anything in the world except this feeling both of you were chasing.

You were close, you could practically feel the tidal wave starting to form inside your stomach. His pace would not let up, practically tearing into you with all the energy and stamina that he had from years of training. and Ben looked so good like this, his mouth hung open and sweat forming on that tanned brow of his. His muscles worked overtime and flexed with every single movement he made. And his eyes, which were so dark and intense, were staring right into your own, almost like they were telling you to give everything to him.

You were so worked up, that it only took his hand to come down and rub down against your clit, the pressure enough to push you over the edge. It was like a firework went off inside and the scream you wanted to make died in your throat, wishing that you could be as loud as you wanted. Your back arched up and your hips faltered against his own, cumming around him and squeezing, earning a moan from his lips as well. You looked so good coming undone that Ben basically was just sent into fucking orbit with no trace of coming back down.

The second you regained your composure and came down from your own orgasm, you watched as Ben hit his own, hips shifting and releasing right inside of you. You felt him fill you up to the brim, Ben falling down with his chest pressed against your own. The room smelled of sex and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The only thing was the sounds of your pants throughout the room, and soon enough Ben was pulling out of you. You frowned at the sudden loss of not being filled up anymore by him. Just a second ago you felt like you were on fucking cloud nine and now you were crashing right down to reality at what you had done, and whom you had just done it with.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as Ben pulled his pants back up and started gathering the rest of his clothes in his hand. He was still shirtless, about to go towards the door when you said, “Are you seriously going out there half naked?”

“No one is up this late, trust me,” he said back.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Well I don’t know about that after all the noises coming from here.”

“That wasn’t me making all the moans,” Ben says in such a casual way you stare daggers back at him. He stifles out a laugh and then turns, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. you can hear his footsteps recede from the door and you are left here alone, thinking about what the hell you had just done.

Once you regained your composure and felt like you could walk, you stood up on your wobbly feet and made your way to your small mirror. the second you got there, you gasped at your appearance in the mirror. Hair all messed up, marks all along your neck along with bruises from his hands, and the bruises on your hips. And to top it all off, you could feel what he left in you trickling down your thigh.

That may have just been the best sex of your life. But you still hated the new Ben Hargreeves…

… right?

#ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves smut #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x reader #the sparrow academy #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy fanfiction #luther hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #klaus hargreeves

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estrellami-1 · 6 months

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If I Should Stay

I mentioned in the last part (the part before that?) how I was leaving on the 15th… I’m not. I’m leaving on the 13th. This fic will be on hiatus until at LEAST the 8th of January, but I WILL come back! This is my baby and I’m not going to abandon it.

Part 1 | . . . | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41

Okay,” Robin says, and somehow just that is enough to soothe Steve. “We know how to fix this, Steve, but you need to focus. Can you focus?”

He takes a breath, feels it shake on the way out. “Yeah. I can focus.” He squeezes his free hand, clenches then releases, clenches then releases, startling when he feels something against his hand.

Eddie offers him a half-smile and a shrug, and Steve manages the expression back, taking his proffered hand and squeezing gently. Thank you, he thinks, and somehow he knows Eddie understands.

He and Robin talk for a few minutes, about how to do this, and he ends the call feeling slightly more confident than before.

“Okay,” he says, as much for Eddie’s benefit as his own. “We need her favorite song.”

Eddie bites his lip. “I’m guessing you don’t know it?”

“No, but I know someone who should. Do you happen to know the Hayes’ number?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, their middle kid, Ronnie? She’s our drummer.” He recites the number, and Steve punches it in, waiting eagerly.

“Hayes residence.”

Steve doesn’t really recognize the voice, so he tentatively asks, “Ronnie?”

She hums. “To some people, sure. Not to you. It’s Veronica.”

Steve winces. “Sorry. Veronica.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, then grabs the phone before Steve can say anything else. “Ronnie, be nice,” he whines, then laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, there is actually a reason we called, though. D’you think Cassie knows Alli’s favorite song?” He covers the receiver and whispers to Steve, “‘Should I Stay or Should I Go,’ The Clash.” Back to the phone he says, “Thanks, Ron. I gotta go but I’ll talk t’you later, ‘kay? Yeah, you too. Bye.”

Steve turns to Allison, who’s beginning to float. “Shit,” he whispers. “C’mon, you gotta- d’you know the song?” He asks, clambering onto the counter to get closer to her.

“I know a little bit of it,” Eddie admits.

Steve nods. “Just… please. Whatever you know, sing.”

Eddie nods, and then Steve starts. He sings the first verse, then Eddie joins in, and Steve starts whispering to her. “C’mon, Al. You gotta fight, please. I just got you back, c’mon, I can’t lose you again. Not this soon. I won’t let him have you, Al, but you’ve gotta fight too.”

Just after they start the second verse, Allison drops to the ground. Steve yelps and scrambles down. “Al!”

“Bubba,” she murmurs, and he collapses into her.

“Thank God,” he murmurs. “Holy shit, Al, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she agrees, clutching onto him just as tightly. “‘M here, bubba. You got me.”

He finally lifts his head and sees Robin, El, and Wayne standing in the entryway of his kitchen.

Evidently, Eddie sees them at the same time, because he yelps, “Wayne!” As he scrambles across the kitchen to hug his uncle.

“Hey,” Steve manages from his position on the floor, halfway on top of Allison.

Robin smiles, steps forward, and offers him a hand, which he takes with a grateful smile. He helps Alli stand after.

“So best I figure,” Wayne says, “You’re in a war and the enemy just made his next move, so your timeline’s moved up now.”

Steve sets his jaw and nods. “Just about.”

Wayne nods. “Your friend here said somethin’ ‘bout shootin’?”

Steve studies him for a moment, then nods. “You a good shot?”

“I was in a war, son, I’m as good as anyone else here.”

Steve nods and offers him a hand to shake. Wayne does, then asks, “So why don’t you tell me why my nephew is suddenly singing your praises?”

Eddie flushes and buries his face in his hands. “Wayne!”

Steve chuckles. “That’s actually a pretty long conversation, sir. How about some coffee?”

“Coffee would be great,” he nods. “And it’s Wayne, none’a that sir crap.”

Allison grabs his wrist before he can move. “Steve,” she murmurs. “That’s what you’re fighting? And have been?”

Steve nods, and she pulls him into a hug, tears pricking at both their eyes. “I’m gonna tear him apart,” she grits out, squeezing Steve until his back cracks. He squeezes her back just as hard.

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling back. “Go get a Walkman. Play your song on repeat. We don’t know why, but it helps.”

Alli chuckles. “Of course it does, it’s music.” She ruffles his hair and steps back, and suddenly Steve misses her like a limb.

“Robs-”

“I’ll go with you,” Robin volunteers, linking her arm with Alli’s and giving Steve a significant look. “C’mon.”

“That works,” Alli says, “I’ve been wanting to get to know you.” They both grin, and suddenly Steve is terrified to see them together.

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demxters · 10 months

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—𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄

frat!bradley bradshaw x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: bradley meets the girl he believes to be his good luck charm at a party. the only problem is, he doesn't have a clue who she is or how to find her again.

wc: 2.1k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname clover), a wild jake and ace appears, explicit swearing, alcohol, college parties, slight nudity, tattoos

the lucky one masterlist || find on ao3

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

You hated your ex with a passion. You knew what he was doing the second you saw his arm around Allison freaking Simpson. Not only was she the dean’s daughter, but she was also one of the top students of their class.

In other words, she was everything you were not. Your ex was trying to prove a point and you hated that it was working.

Deep breathes, you remind yourself, thinking back to the meditation classes you took over the summer.

Your eye twitches at the sound of Allison’s obviously over exaggerated giggles. Tyler Jacobs was not that funny.

“He’s not worth your time,” a soft voice from beside you interrupts your glaring.

It was a girl you recognized from your classes over the years. Quiet, yet incredibly smart and snarky when need be. You’ve never actually talked to her much, but she was thoughtful and much more tolerable than a majority of your peers.

“You used to date Tyler Jacobs, right?” Apparently, she was also very observant.

You cringe at that. “Unfortunately.”

She hums, before returning her gaze to her notes. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you could do much better.”

Now that makes you laugh. “Thanks,” you send her a genuine smile.

You knew she was right. You could do so much better. Tyler was all you’ve known. Dating since high school, prom king and queen, the whole cliche. You just needed to expand your horizons.

After another grueling hour and a half of listening to your professor talk about god knows what, you’re more than relieved to finally be released from class.

The girl beside you packs up with haste, almost like she has somewhere to be.

“Hey, Ace, tell that boyfriend of yours that he can suck my dick!” Tyler yells after her.

“Go screw yourself, Jacobs,” she replies with a flash of her finger.

You wrap your arm around her, noticing the tension in her shoulders as you deliberately announce, “I’ve seen it and trust me, your boyfriend would not be impressed.”

The people around you snicker, making Tyler’s face turn red, and you smirk in satisfaction.

The girl, who you remember was called Ace, is laughing as you guide her out of the lecture hall.

“His face was priceless!” Ace says between laughs.

You shrug with a smile. “I only said what’s true!”

Ace shakes her head. “Amazing.”

A call of her name distracts her, and you both turn to see a tall, blond man jogging toward the both of you.

You won’t lie. He was incredibly good looking. But the way his gaze was set on Ace told you all you needed to know. “The boyfriend, I’m assuming?”

He wraps Ace up in his arms and she playfully rolls her eyes at his display of affection.

“The one and only,” he grins. “Jake Seresin, pleasure to meet you. It’s so nice seeing you branch out, Ace. She is so anti-social, I swear,” he murmurs from the side of his mouth.

She scoffs, smacking her boyfriend on the arm. “Shut up!”

You laugh along with the duo, your heart aching at how in love they were. Even if they didn’t know it yet, you could tell they would be together for a long time. You had a knack for noticing those kinds of things–relationships that were meant to last and matchmaking. You take pride in the fact that you were the one to set up your old high school math teacher with your favorite art teacher. Now, they were happily married and had two kids with one more on the way.

The one person you were unable to help in the love department, however, was yourself. How absolutely ironic.

You used to think Tyler Jacobs was the one. You imagined the two of you growing old together, having kids, and telling them the stories of how the two of you fell in love. Being with him since your freshman year of high school and knowing him since kindergarten made you truly believe that he was the love of your life.

Up until a month ago, when everything came crashing down and everything you thought you knew turned out to be a lie.

“Hey, you should come to the Delta Chi party this weekend,” Jake offers, noticing the sudden lull in conversation.

Ace nods with a smile. “Yeah, something to take your mind off that ex of yours.”

You eye Jake, unable to contain your growing grin. “A frat party?”

Jake winks. “Only the best frat on campus.”

Ace was right, you needed to take your mind off Tyler. You wanted to prove that you didn’t need him–that you never did. Besides, when did you ever say no to a party? “Alright, I’ll be there.”

»»————- ♣︎ ————-««

You’ve been to so many parties, the sweaty bodies and loud music no longer deter you.

Pushing your way through the crowd, you say hi to some familiar faces as you make your way to the drinks.

One of the Delta Chi guys gives you a cup full of cheap beer, which you gladly accept. You continue to wander around the house, only being there once before. With Tyler.

Just even thinking of him makes you nauseous. Downing the rest of your cup, you go back to the keg, desperate for another drink.

Two becomes three.

Three becomes four.

Until, eventually, you’ve lost count and the only thing you can feel is the warmth of the alcohol and the beating of the bass in your chest.

You hardly remember Tyler and Allison nor the aching heartbreak you’ve been going through for over a month now.

It was just you and the dance floor. And maybe a few frat guys and sorority girls you didn’t know the names of but danced with anyways.

Your cup was empty again and you groaned at the realization. You stumble your way back to the drink station, no longer able to control your heavy footsteps and swinging limbs.

Your vision is so hazy that you don’t see the body you haphazardly bump into.

“Holy shit!” the person says as you catch yourself on the table.

He turns around with wide, doe-like eyes. Even through the horribly lit area and hue from the alcohol, you could tell that the guy in front of you was hot. His slightly curly hair was plastered to his forehead through the sheen of sweat that glistened on his skin. You could tell he was muscular, even under the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt he was wearing. And his eyes… you couldn’t pinpoint the exact color they were due to the poor lighting, but they were what you would describe as kind.

He gapes at you like a fish out of water. You catch yourself giggling at his flustered state.

“Are you some kind of good luck charm or something?” He blurts out.

“What?” you slur. You boldly grab his forearm in order to steady yourself from swaying too much. You bite your tongue to hold back a sigh as the smell of cinnamon and faint cologne floods your senses.

“I said, are you some kind of good luck charm or something? Because I just won that shit!” He gestures sloppily to the table where a game of beer pong was set up.

“No way!” You bounce on your toes, feeling giddy from the excitement oozing off the guy in front of you.

He nods vigorously. “I was about to make that shot, but then you bumped into me and I still got it in. That was awesome. You are a good luck charm! You’re like a… like a…”

Your eyes light up as he continues to think. “Like a four leafed clover?”

He snaps his fingers. “Yeah!”

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips while your fingers tug your shirt upwards. Rolling the loose tee you have on so it’s resting just right above your bra, you turn. “You mean like this?”

His gaze zeroes in on the image inked below your right breast, on the edge of your rib cage. There lies a delicately etched four leaf clover.

The tug in your chest is palpable. The pull this guy has on you is strange, yet welcomed. It was unlike anything you’ve felt before, even with Tyler. You wanted to beckon him closer. You wanted him to take his fingers on his large hand and delicately trace the outline of where you are most vulnerable.

Your grip on your shirt loosens as it rolls back down your chest to your abdomen, suddenly feeling self conscious of how forward you were. Great, you just met the guy and now you’re gonna scare him away.

He opens his mouth to speak, gaze glancing back up to meet yours, clearly rendered speechless by the unexpected action before him.

“Yo, Rooster! Come on, someone’s trying to beat your time on the keg!”

He’s interrupted by another guy who shakes his shoulders and pulls him away without another word.

He gives you one last look over his shoulder, one apologetic and full of longing before you lose him in the crowd.

Rooster. What a strange nickname.

You just hope your sober self remembers it tomorrow.

»»————- ♣︎ ————-««

Bradley can’t tell if the pounding is in his head or coming from his bedroom door. His head feels like a bowling ball and he can barely open his eyes without feeling like he was getting stabbed through his skull.

He rolls over, throwing his pillow over his head. He prays that whoever is on the other side of the door gets the hint and leaves him alone.

Much to his dismay, the person ends up inviting themself in anyway.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jake’s irritating Texas drawl rings through his ears.

Bradley groans, tossing his pillow lamely at him. “Go. Away.”

“No can do, Bradshaw. Up! Up! Up!” He shouts, clapping his hands in front of Bradley’s face like a drill sergeant.

Bradley wishes it were Jake in his place right now. In another time, it was Jake that was in his place. Bradley would be the one ushering him and his latest fling out of bed. When he started dating Ace, Jake changed. She straightened him up—made him lose the fuck boy act and be more respectful. Now it was time for Jake to have his fun. He hates how much Jake is enjoying Bradley being on the other end of the stick.

“Go away before I rip your dick off,” Bradley threatens with narrowed eyes.

Jake doesn’t take Bradley’s comment the way he wanted him to. His cackle and the rush of sunlight that enters the room makes Bradley whine pathetically. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, the light from outside was burning through his eyelids.

“Reuben cooked breakfast. Hurry up if you want to eat anything other than bread crusts,” Jake announces before, not so softly, shutting his bedroom door.

Bradley throws his pillow back over his head to block out all the light and sighs. Every time they host a party, he swears that he won’t drink too much. And every time without fail, he ends up blackout drunk and in bed with a sorority girl. Which is why he’s surprised that, for once, he can actually remember the night before. There wasn’t much significance to last night. Just like any other Friday, Delta Chi was throwing another rager. All his friends were there as well as the usual sororities. However, last night at the beer pong table was embedded into his mind.

He could still smell the perfume of the girl he recalls being his good luck charm. He could see her bright smile and the tattoo she willingly flashed at him. A dopey smile tugs at his lips as he reminisces about last night.

His euphoric haze is cut short when he realizes he never even got your name. Bradley didn’t know who you were or who you were with. He finds himself getting more of a headache trying to remember if he has ever seen you at any of the Greek life events on campus. He doubts you were in a sorority. He’s sure he would’ve remembered seeing a face like yours.

The best thing he could do is ask if anyone knew a girl with a clover tattoo, but even that would probably get him nowhere.

The pounding in his chest didn’t settle as he continued to relive the interaction from the night before. If only he hadn’t been pulled away by Omaha, he probably would’ve mustered up enough courage to get your name and number. He maybe would have even asked you out on a date. But he was whisked away in an instant. After the fiasco at the keg, Bradley wandered around the house trying to find you, with absolutely no luck. He didn’t understand what it was, but he was convinced that he needed to see you again. He had to.

Even in his hung over state of mind, Bradley was on a mission. First, he was going to sober up and shower. Then was going to find his four leafed clover.

this one is dedicated to @blue-aconite for this fic and clover wouldn’t exist without you, ily <;3

a/n: i hope you’re all as excited for bradley and clover as i am. im super stoked to introduce them into the ‘loving you universe’ and for you all to see where their story leads them. as always, the inbox is open and comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated.

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @potato-girl99981 @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw x f!reader #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster x you #rooster oneshot #rooster x f!reader #frat!bradley bradshaw x reader #college!au #loving you universe: the lucky one #rooster x clover 🍀#demxters writing

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pottersmiracle · 3 months

Text

Drunk words are sober thoughts

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Fem! Reader

warnings: tiny bit of angst here and there-fluff-drunk ben-clingy/affectionate ben-klaus teasing you both-use of y/n-small bit of pet names (by ben)-drunk ben talks about being married to you 👀

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to act like the umbrella academy being there doesnt affect him, he also tries to act like he doesnt care that they don’t like him. But he’s horrible at hiding it from you.

a/n: rewatching tua - if this man doesnt get a smidge of happiness in season 4 im rioting - someone give sparrow ben a hug and a kiss - not proofread don’t murder me - pls send requests for umbrella academy characters 🙏

Masterlist

Ben was drunk. Really drunk. You were sitting next to him at the table and Klaus came over and started talking to you both, mainly you because you were actually interested in talking to him, “eleven people.” Ben mumbled. “Huh?” Klaus asked, you looked at Ben confused. “There are only eleven people left.” He says looking at both of you.

“Okay.. drunk ben clearly likes numbers and.. shrimp.” Klaus says looking at Ben’s plate. You laugh softly as Ben looks at Klaus, “and you couldn’t even invite me to your stupid bachelor party.” You sigh and lean back in your chair. You were right

“Oh.” Klaus said taken aback, “have we finally flicked off bad benny’s hard candy shell?” “Why don’t you like me?” Ben asked, his words slurring a bit. “Because you’re a big puckering asshole!” Klaus admitted. Actually its not like you could disagree with him, Ben was an asshole to klaus and the others.

You let them talk and walked around talking to everybody, congratulating Luther and Sloane, even having an actual nice talk with Reginald, Ben was staring him down the whole time though.

You walked past Fives table and nodded at him, you could tell he was severyly drunk and it was honesty humorous. He raised his glass to you and nodded as you laughed and walked back over to your boyfriend who was watching you as you sat down.

“You left me.” Ben pouted. You laughed and scooted your chair closer to him, “you were having a conversation. I gave you two some privacy.” Klaus gave you a smile and took a sip of his drink.

Ben groaned in response and took a bite of his shrimp as you all watched Reginald stand up to make a speech. You rubbed Ben’s back softly as Reginald talked, as he talked you notice Viktor and Allison. They were in a heated argument it was obvious but Allison ended up leaving the wedding.

“The sun rises over a lily’s field. A mother veiled, her lips concealed. The mourners come in droves of black to bury what their hearts unpack. With shallow breath and time eclipsed, i pray you miss death’s gentle kiss.” Reginald finished his speech and looked at everyone.

You clapped lightly and klaus cheered, “Beautiful! bravo dad! Bravo!” Ben stared at his father, “makes no sense.” He mumbled, you smiled at him and held his hand.

Chet turned on some more upbeat music after Reginalds dark speech. Everyone got up to dance except for you, Ben, and Viktor. “Can i tell you something?” Ben asked sitting up to look at you, his words were slurring but not enough to not understand him. “Of course.” You said.

“I would’ve loved getting married to you.” He admitted. “Just.. not at the end of the world.” He said slowly. You looked at him, you were shocked that he said that. He was always affectionate but not like this. He got up and kissed the top of your hand before standing up, “come on, let’s dance.” He had a wide grin on his face, he was officially in his chaotic stage of drunk. You tried to push off what he said as, he’s just drunk, its nothing to think about.

Although drunk words are sober thoughts..

After the fun dancing, everyone sat on the roof and hung out. You sat next to Sloane with Ben and Klaus trailing behind you, Ben sat next to you and wrapped an arm around you and Klaus sat next to Ben.

Ben rested his head on yours and Five got up, he wobbled around and everyone started yelling and laughing, “i feel like im gonna throw up.. actually, i’m hungry.” He said his goodbyes to everyone before going inside followed by Diego and Lila.

Ben and Klaus got up to leave as well. “Oh god.” You muttered standing up, “i should follow them. Goodnight guys, congratulations.” You smile at Luther and Sloane who smile back, “goodnight!” Viktor said goodnight to them as well and went inside with you.

#Spotify #sparrow academy #sparrow!ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy

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josyards · 1 year

Text

AFTG Instagram HCS

Andrew

Andrew has social media, but it's a faceless 'user929485829394' kind of account (or aminyard maybe... but nobody thinks it's him) that has no followers because he just goes on there to keep up to date w stuff.

All the foxes find it eventually because someone (Nicky...) saw it open on his phone & the fans are so confused why the foxes all follow this random anon account

(Andrew deletes his account the second people start to realise who the account belongs to and makes a new one that only Neil knows about)

(Nobody questions why Neil follows a random anon account that is private because it's so... Neil of him. So nobody realises that it's Andrew this time around.)

With his only audience as Neil, Andrew posts a little. Not a lot. But it's nice, Neil thinks, when he opens Instagram to see that default icon with the ring around it.

Neil

Neil doesn't really post much but when he does it's of other ppl (primarily Allison and Matt but sometimes there is a 'soft launch' of Andrew which the goalie says he hates but never tells him to delete), his account is mainly centred around exy -- all his stories are exy related etc.

Sometimes he tags Kevin in random shit that makes no sense to anyone but them. One time he reposted this random french tumblr post about mafia relations and tagged Kevin and Kevin was hysterical because what the fuck are you doing neil are you trying to get us killed.

Funnily, his pfp is a photo of Kevin smashed drunk because he found it really funny and Kevin ends up blocking Neil on social media when he refused to change it (and because of the shit he gets tagged in).

Kevin

Kevin keeps his Instagram very professional. He posts his magazine photoshoots & has stupid shit like clips of him on Kathy's show saying. "Thank you for having me @kathy, it was a pleasure." and the fans EAT IT UP.

The foxes don't let him live it down and every time he posts anything the foxes all repost it w stupid music or something like that, or just with "HAHAHAHAHAHAH".

But that's not just it, sometimes Kevin posts photos from practice; sneak shots that nobody realises he's taken. It seems sweet; it would be sweet if he wasn't such a raging asshole when they practice. He also posts their match scores on his story.

What shocks the foxes the most out of everything is how open he is about his obsession with USC Trojans. Sometimes they wonder whether they accidentally followed a Trojan fan account but no, it's just Kevin Day shitposting about Jeremy Knox.

Nicky

Nicky predominantly posts loads of selfies and shit, lots of candid photos of the others!!!! He does 'camera dumps' and 'monthly dumps' of photos. He posts everything that he can and his story is like a vlog.

He's also very outspoken with his opinion of social media and goes live all the damn time. It drives the monsters insane when they hear "hey guys!" from their living room.

He actually gains quite a bit of attention as the only fox who isn't completely shutdown secrative about his life and so his reason for posting is fed constantly.

He likes to do those "ask me question" stories and it's really entertaining to see him suddenly rush up to one of the foxes and ask questions that the fans want to know. If you're a new fan, your go to Instagram is 100% Nickys. His highlights are full of info on everything and everyone.

It surprises the foxes immensely when they find out his Twitter time is more than Instagram.

Allison

Allison is similar to Nicky in some sense but more professional, it has more of a 'model/fashion student' vibe to it; she likes to post random stories of her having dressed Neil up (bonding she calls it) and has a little highlight for him (the foxes appreciate her efforts).

She likes to do reels, like "dress up neil w/ me!". She also does advertisements w/ skincare & makeup groups.

She has a very aesthetic-looking account; she likes to do GRWM's (and sometimes they star a fellow fox which makes the fan so excited for each new release). She's extremely charismatic and draws a lot of followers from industries other than sport/exy.

Dan

Dan posts about Exy A LOT which surprises the foxes because even though they know that she loves the sport they didn't realise she followed it with such ferocity.

She has a lot of Foxes content on her page, like group photos or post-match selfies etc. She always posts something like that with the score of the game in the caption.

Her pfp is either one of her and Matt's eyes or a photo of them kissing at the end of a game (maybe the Raven one?).

Matt

Matt's Instagram is a shrine of Dan...andNeil. His focus is largely selfies w them or candids of them. He has highlights for them, named "<3" & "Neil!" (they used to both be <3 but then someone asked if they were poly and the foxes lost their shit).

Matt doesn't really post about exy that much, his Instagram seems to capture the domestic side of the Foxes that don't get shown too much through the other's accounts.

Matt's favourite passtime is posting photos of Neil where he blatantly crops Andrew out of the photo. So you get: Neil looking in adoration at... someone? something? The fans go crazy every time.

Renee

Renee's Instagram is the epitome of domestic. It's crazy. She's private and only accepts people she knows (aka the foxes). She posts the most beautiful candids of the foxes you will ever see; them in their Halloween outfits in Eden's Twilight, (an extra slide of Andrew and Neil looking at each other (it was a collective agreement to ignore Kevin who was slumped on the table)), them post Raven match which was taken by Stephanie Walker, a games night which Neil somehow coaxed everyone into (including Andrew) etc.

It's an account almost solely for documenting the PSU Foxes adventures together. Sometimes she posts a quote about her beliefs or music that she likes.

Her account is the foxes favourite, though they'd never admit it.

Even at gunpoint.

Aaron

Last (and very much least), Aarons Instagram (post book three) is almost entirely soft-launching Katelyn.

Library study photos where you can see a girl's hand and someone else's book?

Check.

Two coffees one which has a lipstick stain on it?

Check.

He's done it all.

(Pre-book three as well) He also sometimes posts random photos of like locations (#courthouse /j) but nothing more than that, all of it is Katelyn and it makes the foxes ill.

I may do more. or edit this

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renecdote · 9 months

Note

I would like any and all prompts you choose to fill please and thank you. but also this one:

look at your face!

congratulations allison you have unlocked a surprise BTHB square: bloody nose [Read on AO3]

Buck feels the impact all through his body. For a moment, he’s dazed, his brain taking an extra few seconds to catch up with what it already knows just happened. Swooping bird, uneven sidewalk, Evan Buckley’s famously shitty luck. Eddie’s distractingly attractive smile, too, which technically didn’t contribute to the face planting, but didn’t exactly help either. Buck might have been paying more attention to where he was going if it wasn’t for that smile.

“Ow,” he mutters into the concrete. It comes out thick and nasally.

“Buck?” Eddie’s worry is, somehow, also attractive. Buck wonders why he never noticed the before. “Are you okay?”

Buck starts to push himself up—nope, ouch—then he gives up and rolls onto his back instead. The bright, cloudless LA sky is mostly blocked out by Eddie’s face hovering above him when he squints his eyes open. He looks just as worried as he sounded.

“Please tell me my leg isn’t broken again,” Buck says, even though he’s pretty sure it isn’t. That’s the kind of thing he would have noticed immediately, he thinks. Or maybe not, since his whole body is kind of… throbbing. A little. Mostly his face.

Eddie’s head dips out of his field of vision for a moment, then pops back up to report, “Your legs are fine. Can you sit up?”

“Yes,” Buck says confidently, then has to take a deep breath to brace himself before he actually tries. Eddie offers him a helping hand and Buck holds onto it even though he tells himself it’s not really necessary. He just thinks holding Eddie’s hand would be nice right now. It would be nice to do it some day when one or both of them aren’t injured, too.

Something tickles his lip. Buck wipes at the irritation, expecting dirt, and pain explodes through his nose and out through the rest of his face.

“Fuck,” he gasps, automatically clutching at it. Unsurprisingly, that just makes another wave of pain crash through him. Buck blinks back the reflective tears, biting his lip hard. He might be embarrassed by the pathetic noise of pain pulled out of him if it didn’t hurt so much.

“Here, let me look,” Eddie says, gently prying Buck’s hands away from his face.

It’s not a surprise to look down and find blood on his hands, but it still makes Buck’s stomach swoop, an automatic vagal response that his stupid brain only seems to get when it’s his own blood he’s dealing with. Or Eddie’s, but. There were extenuating circumstances there.

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, fingers at Buck’s jaw gently tiling his head. It’s probably just a coincidence that it takes his eye off his hands. “Look at your face. Maddie is going to be pissed.”

“‘M good,” Buck tries. “Really.”

The reassurance is immediately ruined when the blood running over his lip gets in his mouth and he has to spit it back out, bright red and bubbly with saliva on the pavement. Gross. Buck tries to grimace without wrinkling his nose, but he’s pretty sure he just looks like he some weird lip spasm thing going on.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Your nose is broken, Buck.”

Buck shakes his head in denial, but that just makes the pain in his face pulse. Eddie is quick to hold his head still.

“Stop moving,” he scolds. “You’re worse than Chris.”

Buck sticks his tongue out at him, then instantly regrets it when he has to spit out more blood. Eddie gently nudges his head forward so the blood drips down between his bent legs instead of down his throat. His hand stays on Buck’s back, warm and solid even though Buck’s shirt is probably gross and sweaty, and it’s kinda nice. Comforting.

“I don’t even know why you’re arguing with me,” Eddie says. “I’m the one who can see your nose and I don’t even need my EMT training to see that it’s definitely broken.”

“It can’t be broken,” Buck protests, more to the universe in general than Eddie. “The wedding is in a week, Eds. Maddie is going to kill me.”

“At least it wasn’t really your fault,” Eddie offers, sounding like he doesn’t think that will help Buck’s case at all.

“I’m so fucked,” Buck sighs around more blood. “Please avenge me when I’m gone.”

Eddie rolls his eyes again. “Why don’t we work on minimising the damage first, then we can plan out your revenge fantasy later?”

“Ice pack?” Buck asks hopefully.

“Uh.” Eddie looks around, like maybe one might magically appear in the middle of the park they were running through. “You might have to wait until we get to urgent care for that.”

Buck groans. Somehow, that makes fresh blood gush from his nose because the human body hates him personally. He pinches his nostrils gingerly, trying to find the sweet spot between stopping the bleeding and not making it hurt more. He doesn’t really succeed, but if there’s one thing he’s good at it, it’s being in pain, so Buck just gives up and takes it. It’s not like it’s his first broken nose. Or his second.

“Don’t even try,” Eddie says, pre-empting him before he can speak. “Your options are urgent care or the ER.”

“They’re probably just going to tell me to take painkillers and not bump it until it heals.”

Eddie has pulled out his phone, one-handed, probably to google where the closest urgent care is.

“I’m not listening to you,” he says.

“Not even if I have ice packs in my car?”

Eddie pauses, looking up from his phone. “Of course you do.” Like he’s kicking himself for not thinking of that before. “This doesn’t get you out of urgent care, though.”

Buck sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

He crosses his eyes trying to look at his nose, closing one eye and then the other, but he still can’t see how bad the break might be. He’s pretty sure it can’t be worse than when he took a hockey stick to the face in high school, at least. Between the broken nose and the orbital blowout, his face was swollen for weeks. That one has got to be in the top ten worst injuries he’s had, Buck thinks, and then wonders whether he should be worried that he has been injured enough times to have a top ten.

“Come on.” Eddie stands, not asking this time before he reaches out and takes Buck’s hand to pull him to his feet as well. “The sooner we go, the sooner we get out of there.”

And then they can go home. Buck doesn’t need to ask to know that they’ll be going together, probably back to Eddie’s house, and they’ll cook dinner, and exaggerate the broken nose story for Chris, and maybe, if Buck is lucky, he’ll fall asleep with his head on Eddie’s shoulder while they all watch a movie together. He’ll wake up bleary and content, probably with a blanket thrown over him, and when he makes half-hearted noises about going home, Eddie will just roll his eyes and say, “Don’t be ridiculous, Buck, you’re staying.”

So Buck will stay.

In the face of all that, even hours waiting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs at urgent care doesn’t seem so bad. Especially when Buck starts tapping his fingers on his thigh, waiting anxiously for this name to be called, and Eddie reaches out and takes his hand. He squeezes gently, a silent reassurance, and Buck lets himself daydream, for a moment, that the injury isn’t there at all.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #fic #badthingshappenbingo #to nobody's surprise I continue to write them being stupidly in love but also just stupid with each other

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inkheartedwanderer · 2 years

Text

what friends are for || the breakfast club

tbc x reader // mostly allison and brian bc losers unite (platonic!)

content: a small snippet of monday morning after detention.

word count: 2.3k

“I don’t have any friends…”

“Well, if you did?”

“No… I don’t think the kind of friends I’d have would mind...”

Allison’s words resonate in your brain as you walk up the stairs and into the busy entrance of Shermer High School on Monday, March 26th, 1984. Waves of people swarm around you, as you make your way towards your locker, down the hall and to the right; the buzz of the early morning ringing in your ears like the static from the broken radio of your car. It’s a stark contrast to the emptiness these same corridors held just two days ago, and it almost feels like Saturday was a fever dream, hazy and overwhelming.

But everything that went down on Saturday was real -the screaming and the crying, the accusations and the confessions. The bonding. The fleeting illusion of a budding friendship with five other kids, all of you so different from one another, but so similar in one too many ways, all of you broken and lost. A part of you wants things to go back to normal, ignore the people that now know too much about you, more than anyone else ever has. Another part of you, a corner of your heart, small but pulsating like an open wound, wants to prove Claire wrong, prove her that the perfectly constructed social hierarchy of Shermer High means nothing if you just try.

You don’t have as much to lose as Andy or Claire herself, but you don’t have as much to gain as Brian, Allison, or even Bender, either. People know you. People like you. You’re nice. Or you were, before you punched your best… ex-best friend right in the eye (and right in front of a teacher). But she had it coming, after her continuous not-so-subtle snide remarks about your problems at home that morning, the reason why you try so hard to be a good student, a good person, even if you slip from time to time.

Your white sneakers squeak against the linoleum floor when you turn around the corner and the first thing you see is her in front of her open locker, applying concealer above her cheekbone with gentle pats of her middle finger; she’s surrounded by the other girls in your group, who are loudly asking her about the bruise that adorns her pale face. She won’t tell anyone it was you and you know it, but you’re unsure she’ll let you come near her and your friends anymore. Her eyes meet yours and her face hardens in a second. It’s obvious you’re not welcome. You would care, but it’s not her you are actually looking for.

A voice, gentle but firm calls you from behind. You look over your shoulder. Soft, meek Brian is gingerly making his way towards you, poorly hiding his nervousness as he approaches. You offer him a smile and turn completely, waving as he stops in front of you. “Hey, Brian.” He visibly relaxes at your tone, his lips turning upwards, braces on display. “What’s up? Did you have a nice Sunday?”

He nods vigorously, happy that you haven’t ignored him. Not that you would’ve before, but he doesn’t know that. “I studied for the Math exam we have on Friday, then started reading a new comic book. I’m almost done with it.”

“Cool.”

A few seconds pass and Brian shifts his weight from foot to foot. He looks at his shoes, then steals a glance your way. “That’s a nice sweater,” he points at your light purple knit jumper “it looks good on you. The yellow one from Saturday was pretty, too.” You nod and look at him expectantly, in teasing silence, biting the inside of your cheek trying to hide a smile. There’s a faint pink tint dusting his cheeks. You’re pretty sure he has a small crush on you, and he’s so obvious and awkward about it that it’s endearing.

Brian clears his throat and turns to his left, pointing to a group of boys huddling together around a locker a few feet away. “Those are my friends.” He says, matter-of-factly. They are staring at you like you’ve got two heads, somewhere between fascinated and terrified. You share a few classes with one of them, a tall and lanky guy with thick-rimmed glasses who talks very fast.

“Right,” You wave at them, “I know Freddie.” The boys wave back with hesitancy, studying Brian and you with cautious eyes.

“That’s awesome, then.” Brian claps his hands together, leaning in confidentially. “They say it’s cool if you want to join us for lunch. You’re welcome at our table. Today or whenever” He smiles, pleased with himself, proud that he didn’t stutter while talking to you.

It isn’t hard to agree, considering you are now virtually friendless. “Sure, why not?” You say, sounding more nonchalant than you feel. And Brian’s face lits up, eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights. You know what he’s thinking. Suck on that, Claire. Screw cliques. “Listen, have you-” The bell rings loudly, its grating sound piercing across the hall and signaling the beginning of the classes. You tsk and hold the boy’s arm before can walk away. “Have you seen Allison?”

Brian, who is trying to go back to his friends before they leave without him, stops in his tracks and looks at the ceiling, retracing his steps since he arrived at school earlier this morning. “No, I don’t think I have.” You drop your hand, let it fall against your jean-clad thigh in defeat. The crowd is dispersing and she’s nowhere to be seen, not in this hallway, at least. When you sigh, Brian speaks again. “She won’t be hard to find, though. If you do, tell her to come, too. For lunch.” And after giving you a thumbs up, he turns around and leaves.

It’s during the long break between the third and fourth periods that you manage to find Allison. She’s alone, pressing against a locker in the far corner of the arts hall near the library, clutching the strap of her grey bag with a death grip and looking intently at everyone passing her by.

Although she’s wearing all black again, an ink stain in an ocean of bright red lockers and yellow walls, and dark liner around her eyes, you notice as you get closer to her that she’s pinned her bangs back with two small hairpins.

She gasps when she spots you, a deep inspiration that shakes her whole body, and her smile is timid when you reach her side. Yours, however, is wide and sunny, and her face brights up like a child’s, a silent hello falling from her lips.

Two days earlier, when Allison stated softly I don’t have any friends, you swore your heart broke a little. Sure, she was a bit weird and showed questionable eating habits, but by the time you all sat at the back of the library to talk, you had grown fond of the girl; and it made you indescribably sad to see the deep loneliness in her eyes. You’ve come to school this morning determined to change that. You’re still not sure how you feel about her knack for lying, though.

“Hi,” You chirp, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You have?” Her tone is awestruck, like she can’t believe anyone would look for her, and she’s breathing very hard.

You laugh. “Yeah, I tried to catch you this morning, but the bell rang before I could.”

The girl nods very slowly, taking in your words. Her smile grows bigger, more genuine and less tentative. “I was late today.” She touches her hair inadvertently, patting her short locks where they are pinned back.

“I’m digging the new look.”

Allison looks like she’s on the verge of tears (happy, you hope) when she thanks you with a choked voice.

You’re about to speak when a loud voice makes you jump.

“Well, if this isn’t the slugger and the freak.”

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you look over Allison’s shoulder. John Bender is sauntering towards you with a smug smile and his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. He’s put a cigarette behind his ear, which is adorned with a shiny diamond earring. He’s got a slightly chaotic energy about him that used to make you nervous before you got to officially meet him, but now it’s easier for you to spot the mischievous -if not playful- gleam in his eyes when he’s trying to be amicable.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You still haven’t mastered the art of deadpanning, but you try. “Broken any laws lately?”

Allison snickers beside you, face towards the floor but eyes bouncing from him to you.

Bender squints, then makes a noise, a mix between a snort and a cackle. “Not yet,” he mimics your mock shock expression, “but t’s still early, sweets, don’t worry.” With a two finger salute, he begins to walk backwards, away from you. “Don’t punch anyone today.”

He makes a scene, demanding attention, tall and boisterous as he jumps and hits a banner that’s hanging from the ceiling. It wrinkles with a loud crack and comes off on one side. John lands too close to a group of girls, getting a fuss from them.

“Look!” Allison nudges you and directs your attention towards one of the girls. Leaning on one shoulder against a locker, with her fiery red hair shining like silk and her pink lips pursed, Claire is staring at Bender with such intensity you’re afraid she might burn a hole in his jacket. Whether that’s good or bad, you’re not sure; but the smug smirk that spreads across his face when he makes eye contact with her tells you that’s exactly the reaction he was expecting.

You turn your attention back to the girl beside you, her brown eyes trained on you, blinking slowly. A bit weird, but who cares, you think. “So,” you begin, placing your hand on her elbow, gently, “Brian and his friends say we’re welcome to sit with them today, in the cafeteria.” Her eyes go wide and she makes a noise at the back of her throat. Feeling encouraged, you link your arm through hers and begin walking slowly down the corridor. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, I think so.” She seems somewhat nervous, but lets you lead the way without resisting. “Did he really say I can go too?”

“Of couse! He explicitly told me to tell you.”

Allison beams, squeezing your arm with cold fingers.

Some people give you a few weird looks as you walk past. Others know you and wave, although their eyebrows furrow in confusion, surprised that your best friend isn’t by your side, puzzled that the resident weirdo is.

The wrestling team is gathered around a drinking fountain, a rowdy group of clean-cut boys in matching blue letterman jackets, making it hard not to notice them. Andrew’s piercing blue eyes find Allison without trouble, and he looks at her like a lovesick puppy when their gazes meet. His smile is timid when he nods, more valiant when the girl waves at him.

He hesitates for a long second as you two approach, getting closer to them and closer to walking away; and, with a surge of courage, steps in front of you and speaks lowly, voice full of warmth. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Allison looks at the floor.

“You look lovely.” It’s barely a whisper, but the girl’s cheeks turn hot pink and you smile. You’re not usually a fan of being a third wheel, but they’re both so nervous you can’t really say anything, can you?

Andrew isn’t paying attention to you, completely focused on Allison, tracing her face with his eyes, smiling dopely. He takes his hand out of his pocket and offers her a piece of white paper, wrinkled and torn from a notebook. “I wanted to give you this. Call me, will you?” And steps back to his spot at the back of his team as if nothing had happened.

His number is neatly written with blue ink, a small smiley face at the bottom of the note. When you giggle, Allison giggles with you.

“I think he likes you.”

“Shut up.” There’s no bite or malice in her words.

“It’s cute.”

“Should I call him?” She’s staring at the piece of paper as if it were made of gold.

You’re escandalised. “Of course! Call him today after school. The wrestling team doesn’t train on Mondays.”

“What do I say?”

“Well, first you say hi and- hey,” an idea pops into your head like a lightbulb turning on, “what if I go over today? To your house. I can help you figure out what to say and then I’ll let you call him by yourself.”

Her brows crease in the middle. “No one’s ever been to my house before.” She says it slowly, almost void of emotion.

Oh. You have a good idea of how awful her parents were -they own a big house, pretty but cold, and never pay their daughter much attention. Maybe you have overstepped. Maybe Allison dislikes visitors as much as you do. Maybe she avoids her place if she can, too.

But then she nods slowly. “But if you want to help me, I’d- I’d like that.”

You sigh, relieved, when she speaks again. Uncertain, confused, trying to figure you out. “Why would you do this for me?”

“Mmmh,” you rub her arm, “that’s what friends are for, Allison.”

“Friends?” You nod and think you’ll say it as many times as she asks you to just to see her like this again -she seems happy, happier than you’ve seen her before. You recognise the twinkle of hope in her eyes, the apple red excitement on her cheeks. The realisation, she doesn’t have to be alone, not anymore.

🌷 🌷 🌷

a/n: Is The Breakfast Club fandom active at all? I hope it is, because after this year’s rewatch I have a lot of feelings. I’m sorry about my bias for our two losers here, I love Allison and Brian so much ♡♡♡

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated :) ♡

#the breakfast club x reader #the breakfast club fanfiction #the breakfast club imagine #the breakfast club one shot #tbc #brian johnson x reader #allison reynolds x reader #john bender x reader #andrew clark x reader #claire standish x reader #the breakfast club

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