#anyone who thinks Christopher is hot can KEEP IT TO YOURSELF

[hannahssimblr]

I tap a knuckle against the study door. 

“Dad?”

There’s silence. 

I knock again. “Dad? Are you busy?” 

He’s moving around in there, I can hear him. Closing browser tabs, maybe. Shuffling around and rearranging things, in a blind panic trying to look like he’s doing something important. I huff out a tiny laugh at the thought of him hurrying to close the minesweeper window before someone can come in and catch him doing something unserious. I don’t really know what he does in his pokey little study all evening, but one of Jen’s crazy theories is that he’s chatting online to his twenty two year old YouTuber girlfriend, to which I need to remind her, once again, that my dad is too boring to have an affair. Mom says he’s writing reports and even that sounds too exciting for him.

“Come in,” he says eventually, and I let myself into his lair where he is sitting stoically at his computer, a stack of paper, no doubt with exceedingly dull information on them is right by his side, and his hand hovers over it so I'll know he’s especially busy, and whatever it is, I had better make it quick. 

I close the door behind me and approach him while his eyes settle curiously on the stack of soft cover books in my hands. “What are those?”

“I spoke to the guidance counsellor at school this week. She gave me some college prospectuses, and I thought we could... um, look through them together”

He heaves out a sigh and gestures to the second chair. The guest chair, I suppose, not that there’s ever guests in here to sit on it. It’s uncomfortable like a lot of furniture in this house, all style but no substance, and I perch on its edge, my knee doing that annoying anxious jerking thing while dad takes off his glasses and swaps them with another pair. “Show me what you have.”

I pass the stack to him and he drops it onto his desk with a thud, picks up the first and immediately flips the front cover towards me with a completely uncalled for attitude. “What’s this?”

“A prospectus.”

“Rhode Island School of Design?”

“Yes.”

He tosses it aside without so much as a glance inside it and grabs the next, “School of the Art Institute, Chicago,” Then reads the blurb incredulously “‘Art and design change the world.’ Alright…” He raises his eyebrows and puffs out a breath as he chucks it into the discard pile. “CalArts, nope.”

My face gets hot. 

He snatches another and flips over to the back, “‘Studying here is different,’” He reads, “‘It is about making a better world, about becoming a creative force and learning to change the world through bold and curious thinking…’” He mumbles the rest and then scoffs at it as if it’s some political argument he disagrees with inside the Sunday Times, and he goes on and on in this manner while the rejection pile builds and builds and so does the feeling inside me. 

“What is this?” He says eventually. “These are all American schools. American art schools.”

“Yes.”

He scrutinises me like he believes I have gone mad yet says nothing because he doesn’t need to. I already know what he’s asking. 

The words come out of me in a rush. I rehearsed this in the hall for five minutes before having the nerve to knock, “Because I think I would get a chance at a really great education there. It’d be good for me to be away and independent and to learn a lot of new things, not just education and art, but also travel and culture. I’d really like to go to college somewhere that’s exciting and dynamic and… and…” Damn, I forgot the other adjective I’d chosen, “...Um, fun, I guess. It’s just that whenever I think about college I imagine myself in the US. I really think that’s where I should be.”

“That’s because that’s what you see in those movies.” He says movies like one might say hardcore pornography, because Christopher doesn’t waste his time with such things as movies. Christopher works, and studies, and reads endless, endless books about World War II. “You’re not going to college in the states.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a waste of time and it’s a waste of money. Do you know what it costs to attend just a year of college in the US? Before your living expenses?”

“I know, but I spoke to the counsellor about it, and she explained that there are scholarships.”

He laughs, “You’re not going to get a scholarship,” and switches back to his other glasses and shakes his mouse to wake up his PC, which has some kind of thrilling spreadsheet open on it. This 2009 financial report must be rapturously exciting if he’s more interested in it than the future of his only son and firstborn child. 

I inhale sharply, “But why couldn’t I get a scholarship?”

“Because,” He types some numbers into the sheet, “You’d have to have a pristine academic record, a long list of extracurriculars and a very persuasive personal statement,” he peers briefly at me over the rim of his specs, “I’ve been through the US education system, and I know the standard that these colleges expect of their scholarship students. You’re just not up to it.”

“I could be, if I worked hard. I’m already doing pretty well in all of my classes, like, I get Bs in most things-” I stop myself before unhelpfully adding, without even trying, “And I have extracurriculars, like, I play rugby and help out Jen with her maths work…”

“You have to understand that the kinds of people who earn these scholarships do a lot more than that.”

“Well I would do more things if I had more time to myself in the mornings, or in the evenings, or after school, or at any other point in my day when I have to ferry Ivy back and forth from-”

Dad barrels on as though he hasn’t registered that I am speaking, “And you know, as well as the extracurriculars, all of these scholarship students have exemplary records. They're well mannered, well behaved, they never get into trouble, never get detention, never mind suspension. Twice.”

I snap my mouth shut. 

“Honestly, if I was the dean of one of these,” he plucks at the limp corner of one of the prospectuses, “Art college places, and I saw an application from someone with your record, I would simply toss it out. There’s not a chance, and before you ask, I am not paying for art school when you could easily do that here. For free.”

“Okay, I understand that, but I don’t really want to go to college here if I can avoid it.”

He doesn’t ask me why. He already knows but doesn't want to acknowledge it, and it’s easier, as it always is, just not to discuss feelings. Any feelings, especially mine, which are the most irritating and irrational feelings of all. “Why art school?” He hums, idly poking around with something on screen. “Couldn’t you choose a more academic course?”

I’m surprised he thinks I’m capable based on all the things he just said about me.

“You could apply for something in Trinity. Math, maybe?”

“Maths.”

“Or if you want something more artistic you could try English. Literature. That would be interesting, don't you think?”

“Or I could just… do art.”

“I would just hate to see you become one of those arty types. One of that NCAD crowd loitering around Thomas Street with their facial piercings and crazy haircuts.”

Oh no, a haircut. I sigh, “I’m not going to NCAD. I was kind of hoping you’d be more enthusiastic about my choices, but if you don’t think they’re right, I mean… what can I do.” I loathe the laugh that comes out of me, this strange, nervous titter that I didn’t even realise I was capable of.

I get up and begin to gather the stack of prospectuses laying forlornly on my father’s desk, my hopes and dreams bound for the recycling bin. “I’ll speak to the guidance counsellor again about my options, I suppose, and then I’ll try and choose something that’s more realistic for me.”

Before I let myself out I force myself to pause and turn to him one last time, “Do you… um, if I come up with more choices for colleges, do you think you’d want to sit down with me some evening and go through them? Like, I mean, really look over all of the options and help me decide what the best thing is?”

There is a lengthy pause. 

“You know, Jude, I’m really busy, and-”

“Okay.” I leave the room and shut the door with a gentle click.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #there Jen he did it #are you happy now #anyone who thinks Christopher is hot can KEEP IT TO YOURSELF #no dilf comments here #he's a heartless bastard

[renecdote]

something fiercer (something softer)

For @reneewvalker 💛

For once, it’s not Buck on the gurney. He gets an oxygen mask and a stern, “sit,” and he sinks onto the bench while Eddie is helped out of his turnout coat before lying reluctantly on the gurney. He reaches out, searching, and grabs Buck’s hand as soon as Buck reaches back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes wide and worried.

“Me?” Buck chokes on something that might be a hysterical laugh. Might be a sob. “You threw yourself on top of me.”

For BTHB: human shield

[Read on AO3]

Eddie sleeps on the side closest to the door. It’s not obvious at first; not when Eddie sleeps on the left and Buck sleeps on the right and that’s just the way it has always been. But then they get married, and they buy a house together, and the room is arranged differently, and suddenly—Eddie sleeps on the right.

Closest to Christopher, Buck thinks at first, because why would Eddie need to protect him? He’s always the first to step up ready to defend Buck, but Buck is the one who curls around Eddie when they sleep. Buck is the one who wakes hearing noises in the night and goes to double check the locks on the windows and doors.

(“You have got to stop watching those true crime videos before bed,” Eddie tells him, grumbly with sleep as he pulls Buck’s arms around himself when he climbs back into bed.

“If there had been an intruder,” Buck replies, kissing the back of his husband’s neck, “you would be thanking me right now.”

If Eddie’s eyes were open, he’d probably be rolling them. “Go to sleep, Buck.”)

It’s different when they’re at work. They watch each other’s backs, that’s the deal they made. They both make it out alive (another deal, which they will never be telling Bobby that they made when they got engaged). They’re partners, that’s the way it works.

That’s the way it’s supposed to work.

Buck wishes it could always be that simple.

****

The building is already unstable when they arrive on the scene.

“We don’t know if anyone is inside,” Bobby reports, while they all pull equipment out of the engine. Hoses and SCBA gear and whatever they might need to get in and get out in one piece. “Be quick, be safe. This building isn’t going to hold much longer.”

The heat sucks them in, smoke immediately blinding. Training and adrenaline take over as they work their way through the rooms, calling out for anyone who might hear them. They reach a staircase and Buck points—I go up, you go down?—but Eddie shakes his head: we stick together. So they keep moving, room after room after room.

Under the roar of the fire, the building groans. Something pops. Buck glances up, worried, but before he can turn it into a question, Eddie’s weight slams into him, knocking him to the ground, and Buck doesn’t have time to suck in a surprised breath before the ceiling is crashing down on top of them.

He blacks out.

Comes to, seconds or minus later, coughing on dust and smoke. His mask was knocked askew when his husband pushed him out of the way, which Eddie is probably going to feel guilty about when he—

Eddie. The weight on Buck’s chest registers, his brain foggy and slow, body one giant ache. It’s hard to move, hard to breathe, hard to think.

“Ed—” His voice splinters and Buck breaks off to cough.

“Eddie,” he tries again, fumbling to find the pulse under Eddie’s jaw, trying not to move his neck. He almost sobs when he finds it, Eddie’s heart still beating against his own.

Both their PASS alarms beep a low warning. Buck was out for seconds, then, not minutes. The fire is still burning around them, getting closer, moving faster than it should be able to. When their alarms start screeching, the roar of the flames almost drowns them out.

“Eddie,” Bucks says again, tapping his cheek, rubbing his shoulder when that doesn’t work. “Eddie, please.”

He can taste his own heartbeat, panic burning hot through his veins. He should radio for help, but both their radios are pinned between them.

Eddie shifts, groaning, and Buck’s grip tightens reflexively, holding him still.

“Hey,” breathy with relief. “That’s it, I’ve got you, Eds.”

Eddie mumbles something he can’t make out, fingers flexing against Buck’s uniform—good, Buck thinks, moving his fingers is good.

“Don’t move, okay?” He doesn’t even know if Eddie is hearing him. “You might have hurt your back—your spine—”

Something unintelligible muttered against his collar. Then, more clearly, “‘M fine.”

Eddie’s legs shift against his own, like some kind of proof. He gets a hand flat on the ground, pushing himself up before Buck can stop him.

“Gotta… we gotta get out of here…”

There’s no time to argue. Eddie is right: they need to get out of here. Everywhere Buck looks, flames are pressing in on them, the heat as suffocating as the smoke.

“Can you walk?” he asks.

Eddie eyes the murky distance to the door, considering. “With some help.”

Buck gets to his feet. Only staggers a little. His shoulders ache sharply when he pulls Eddie to his feet as well, but he wasn’t the one who had an entire ceiling come down on his back, so. He’s fine. He has to be fine.

Somewhere in the building, there is another loud crash. Probably more ceiling coming down. Buck swallows through the spike of adrenaline and slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders.

“Come on,” eyes streaming, trying not to breathe so it doesn’t turn into coughing, “let’s get out of here.”

****

Their teammates are around them as soon as they stumble to a collapse on the grass. Buck tries to say, “Eddie—check Eddie out first—,” but he doesn’t get through the first syllable before he’s coughing, and coughing, and coughing.

They both end up in the back of the ambulance.

For once, it’s not Buck on the gurney. He gets an oxygen mask and a stern, “sit,” and he sinks onto the bench while Eddie is helped out of his turnout coat before lying reluctantly on the gurney. He reaches out, searching, and grabs Buck’s hand as soon as Buck reaches back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes wide and worried.

“Me?” Buck chokes on something that might be a hysterical laugh. Might be a sob. “You threw yourself on top of me.”

Eddie takes a breath to reply and ends up cursing when Chimney’s exam hits a particular sore spot.

“You’re both going to the hospital to get checked out,” Chimney says, no room for argument. “Eddie, how’s your pain?”

“I’ve had worse,” Eddie answers. “Buck, are you—”

He tries to sit up, but Chimney pushes him back down. Buck squeezes his hand, rebuke as much as reassurance.

“I’m okay,” he says against the scratchiness in his throat.

“He’s okay,” Chimney confirms, and Eddie finally relaxes. Chimney is looking at Buck when he adds, “You’re both going to be okay.”

Buck nods, and tries to believe it, but even with Eddie’s hand warm and solid in his own, he can still hear the deafening crack of the ceiling right before it came down. It’s a sound that he’s pretty sure he’ll be hearing for a while.

****

He doesn’t get to see Eddie’s back until they’re home. When he does, it’s a livid watercolour of angry reds and deepening purples. Buck rubs soap over his skin carefully, murmuring apologies even though Eddie doesn’t make a sound in pain. His jaw is tight, eyes closed under the shower’s water, only opening them to give a grimace of a smile when Buck ducks in close to kiss him.

“Come on,” he says, a softer echo of earlier, “let’s get out.”

Eddie steals another kiss, then reaches past Buck to turn the water off, only wincing a little bit. Painkillers and hot water: a magic combination. It should be a relief, but it isn’t. Buck pulls on clean clothes, then sinks down onto the edge of their bed, exhausted but still somehow antsy. He watches Eddie grab his own clothes out of the dresser, moving slow just in case it hurts. He pulls on boxers and sweatpants and one of Buck’s t-shirts carefully, then turns and finds Buck watching him.

“What?” he asks, frowning.

Buck shakes his head because—it’s nothing.

It’s everything.

“Buck,” Eddie presses, concern in his voice. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Buck starts to shake his head again, it’s nothing on the tip of his tongue, but the truth is bubbling up and bursting out before he can stop it.

“Why did you push me down?”

Concern blurs into confusion. “I saw the ceiling was going to come down.”

“You pushed me,” Buck repeats. “Why didn’t you—you could have got out of there—”

“I love you,” Eddie reminds him, still frowning, still confused. Starting to sound annoyed. “Would you prefer I didn’t try to save you?”

“You could have died,” Buck almost snaps, emotion and smoke inhalation making him hoarse. “Eddie, I can’t—I won’t—be the reason you don’t come home at the end of a shift. Please don’t make me.”

Eddie’s arms come up around himself, a familiar kind of self-hug. “So, what? You’re leaving me?”

“No.” Quick and startled. “Eds, no, I love you. I love you. I just—” Reaching out, curling a hand in Eddie’s hoodie when he doesn’t reach back, tugging him in between Buck’s legs. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t make it home to Christopher.”

I don’t want how much you love me to ruin us.

Eddie’s jaw works, fighting against emotion. His voice is haggard when he says, “We both make it home. That’s the deal.”

Buck swallows. It’s the kind of deal that looks good on paper, that sounds good when it’s just a promise and not a reality, but. “Maybe… maybe both of us making it home isn’t always an option.”

Eddie shakes his head.

Shakes it again.

His arms drop their self-hug, but he steps out of Buck’s reach in the same breath, hand dragging roughly across his face.

“Where is this coming from?” he asks, movements sharp and jagged when he turns. “And don’t say the fire earlier because that was close but it wasn’t—it wasn’t sniper close, or lightning strike close, or even natural disaster close, Buck, so don’t lie to me. Where the hell is this coming from?”

Sometimes I feel like you don’t trust me, Buck thinks. But just as quickly he’s flicking the thought away because no, that’s not it. It’s not even true.

Sometimes I don’t trust myself feels closer to the truth.

“If we both make it home,” he tries, reaching for words he’s not sure how to fit together, “then the reverse is true too, right? That maybe one day we both don’t make it home. And I know that’s always a risk, and I know I’m not good at math, but if one of us is always trying to save the other, then the odds of both of us making it out alive have gotta be lower. Right?”

Eddie is still. Silent. He doesn’t look at Buck for a long time.

“No,” he says finally.

“No?” Buck echoes. “Eddie—”

“No,” Eddie repeats firmly. The distance between them is gone in an instant, his husband kneeling on the floor at Buck’s knees, taking both his hands and holding them tight. “I don’t care about the math, Buck. I’ll always try to save you. Always. And I know you’ll always try to save me too.”

There are tears in his eyes, gathering at the waterline, his face open and anguished as he looks up at Buck.

“Please,” he says. “Please don’t ask me not to save you.”

Buck thinks his hands would be shaking if Eddie wasn’t holding them so tight.

He thinks maybe Eddie’s hands would be shaking if he wasn’t holding Buck so tight.

“Okay,” he finally answers, his voice quiet between them. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t.”

****

“I’m sorry,” he says again later, the bedcovers pulled up over them, twilight fading into night. “I just got scared.”

“I know.” Eddie’s fingers trace his face, lingering over features he memorised long ago. “I get scared too.”

Buck wants to hold him, but doesn’t want to hurt him. Eddie is right, he knows: this wasn’t even their closest call. He doesn’t know why it shook him as much as it did. Maybe because they weren’t married before. Maybe because he woke up unable to move, with the dead weight of his husband on top of him, and he didn’t know how to fix it. 

“I thought you were dead,” he admits, and he has to bite his lip so it doesn’t tremble. “I thought you’d died trying to save me.”

Eddie’s fingers are so, so gentle wiping away the tear that breaks free and runs down Buck’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had to do something.”

He doesn’t say you would have done the same thing, but they both know it’s true. And five years ago, Buck might have argued that it’s different, if it’s him, but he knows now that it isn’t. He’s worked hard to know that it isn’t.

“I know you did,” he answers simply. “I’m not mad.”

“You were a little mad.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, because he can’t deny it, “but not at you.”

Eddie tips his chin up, just a little, and leans over to kiss him. Buck makes a sound, half a protest, your back—, but he can’t stop himself from kissing back.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, thumb at the corner of Buck’s lip, half a caress.

Buck kisses the pad of his thumb, smiling across the pillow at his husband, watery but real. “I love you too.”

“I don’t think I’m up for make up sex,” Eddie jokes, his own smile crinkling his eyes. “But how about some make up cuddling?”

Buck hesitates. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Eddie promises. “C’mere.”

He tugs on Buck’s shirt and Buck only holds out for another second before shuffling closer, Eddie’s arm over his waist, Buck’s arms tucked between them. It’s the kind of position that is going to grow uncomfortable pretty quickly, but he doesn’t care, not when he can feel the steady beat of his husband’s heart under his hand.

“Are you going to sleep?” Eddie asks, breath tickling Buck’s hairline.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie echoes him. His hand slips under Buck’s shirt, warm skin against warm skin. “Is this okay?”

Buck curls his fingers in husband’s shirt: don’t let go.

“Yeah,” he says. “This is perfect.”

Eddie kisses the top of his head, hugging him a little tighter: I won’t let go.

The fear is still itchy under Buck’s skin, but—

They both made it home today. Eddie threw himself over Buck to shield him from a collapsing ceiling, and he could have died, but he didn’t. He didn’t. They both made it home. Buck holds onto that, and holds onto his partner, and for now, for today, it’s enough.

It’s enough.

****

(Eddie sleeps on the side closest to the door.

Closest to Christopher, Buck thinks at first, because why would Eddie need to protect him?

He’s not sure why he ever wondered, though, because it’s the same reason that Buck always wants to protect him: they’re partners. That’s just the way it works. And whenever he forgets it, he knows he can trust Eddie to remind him.

After all, that’s what partners are for.)

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #fic #badthingshappenbingo

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 1/Episode 8 (“Love And War And Snow”)

What Happens in This Episode: This episode was jam packed with so many minor situations that I can't summarize everything in one paragraph. Town meetings, friendships tested, jealousy, boys, frozen pizza, Creepy Forrester, a disappearing concession stand, and much more.

Disclaimer: Don't take anything I say seriously or literally. If I say something you don't like, please remember that this is all supposed to make you laugh, my opinions are my own but ultimately meaningless and at the end of the day this is still just a 22 year old fictional TV show 🙂 The episode opens with a town meeting, the first of the series. I'm not sure which is the corniest element of this show, the town meetings or all the dopey festivals. Then sometimes they have town meetings about their dopey festivals which opens up a whirling vortex into the corn world. Memorable Quote "There is no use for a lava lamp unless you're on drugs." -Taylor Luke is yawning and sighing through the mayor's speech. Who is forcing him to go? Luke is not there voluntarily, that's for damn sure, so do I really want to know what happens to people who refuse to attend these meetings? I'm sure it's not pretty.

Release him, can't you see he's in pain? Ah, Luke just popped his top and exploded at Taylor! Magnificent! I really want a remake called Grownup Gilmore Girls where Luke swears like a fucking sailor. Lorelai is listening to an answering machine message from Max on repeat. Where would this show be without answering machines? They play a vital role in so many episodes. Memorable Quote:

Speaking of weather, someone on Twitter pointed out that it only rained once in Stars Hollow in the entire series (the last episode).

IMPENDING DOOM. I hope the cookies that Rory will be bringing Dean are poisoned.

JFC he did it again! #JumpScare

....... Dean: "Wow, she brings me cookies, how can I repay her?" Run Rory, Run! There's still time! Save yourself!

Yo! Writers! Amy Sherman Palladino! Stop trying to make Dean Jess before Jess exists! IT IS NOT WORKING.

She doesn't need your literary suggestions, butthead. Stop reminding me that Jess isn't here yet and I have to put up with your ass for a whopping 63 episodes. Thankfully, if I recall, this "Dean likes to read" characteristic is about to be forgotten shortly. He'll be moping & complaining while Rory browses the book fair in no time. Lane's facial expressions while Rory and Dean are being idiots is the best thing in this episode.

Maybe I'd take pity on Lane here, but in the last episode she called Dean "sexy" so honestly she deserves to be horrified. I'm still enjoying watching her disgusted face.

"The Hollow" is what I'm going to title my gritty adult reboot of Gilmore Girls where people swear and we see Jess' ass. THE HOLLOW. Coming soon to HBO. Luke: "Harry, stop this before someone drives through here and thinks the local mental instituion has bad padlocks." Taylor probbaly siphoned money from the town funds to pay for the bridge repairs, so there wasn't enough money left for padlocks. Fuck the Stars Hollow Bridge. Memorable Quote

"Tradition is a trap that allows people to stick their head in the sand, the past was so quaint & charming. Times were simple, kids didn't have sex. Neighbors knew each other, it was a freakin fairy tale, things sucked then too, it just sucked with no indoor plumbing." -Luke Luke Danes bringing some humanity to this corny affair called Gilmore Girls.

We get it, you like snow!

Really want to do this to Milo Ventimiglia's hair.

ENOUGH

It's not delivery, it's Mastrolia.

A menu to pick apart: Fiesta Burger, Hamburger, Cheeseburger, Bar-B-Que burger, french fries, onion rings, sausge/onion/pepper, hot dog, soda. And just like Shane after the dance marathon, that random window-service concession stand in Stars Hollow mysteriously vanishes, never to be seen again.

For anyone keeping score, Christopher has proposed to Lorelai three times.

That looks nothing like the actor who played young Christopher or the one who played adult Christopher (please don't take me seriously when I say shit like this, of course I know they likely hadn't casted either actor yet when this was filmed. I literally just write what I observe). I had forgotten that we're still waiting for the unfortunate debut of Clown #2, Christopher. I loathe him. The actor who plays him is a butthole in real life too.

A pager! Nostalgia point!

The first appearance of this bookstore that screens movies.

Baby Lorelai. That's a very high quality photograph for 1967.

Kirk's Jobs Thus Far: DSL Installer, Swan Delivery Boy, Grocery Store Assistant Manager, Historical Reanactor.

Oooh, somebody's jealous. Samantha Leigh's Bakery will of course become Weston's. Lane is staying at the Gilmore household and crashes Max & Lorelai's make out session, giving Lorelai a taste of what Rory and Jess felt every time she barged in on them.

The Gilmores wear the cutest pajamas. The Good: Luke explodes at town meeting. Lane has to watch Rory and Dean kiss, which is what she deserves. Lorelai's cute pajamas. The snowy setting was beautiful. The Bad: Rory didn't poison the cookies she fed to Dean. At least not lethally. Boo. Rory is a shitty friend to Lane (but she does apologize). The Meh: Max and Lorelai make out. Lorelai's obsession with snow was getting really fucking annoying. The New: First town meeting. First time Luke loses his temper at a town meeting. First appearance of the local bookstore/movie place. Lorelai and Max's first date & kiss. First time Luke appears jealous to see Lorelai with another man. The confusing: Dean pretends he knows how to read. Disappearing concession stand. "Baby Lorelai"'s picture was clearly taken in the 90's. Nostalgia: Rory uses a pager. Lorelai's Paul Frank pajamas.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #max medina #lane kim #luke danes #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls #Gilmore Girls Season 1 #Love and War and Snow #LAWAS

[casspurrjoybell-26]

The Contract - Chapter 36

*Warning: Adult Content*

- Evan -

The photographer lowers his camera and then smiles widely at me.

"I think we got it, thanks Evan," Christopher says, making the model next to me and I, move out of our positions.

"I should thank you," I laugh, accepting a shirt from one of Chris's team. "You managed to get this done under an hour."

Grinning, he waves me over to him.

"You're easy to photograph, you practically did all the work for me."

Coming over to him, I see the photos on the large monitor for a perfume ad with the famous model Caira Delaware next to me and I'll even admit, she's the easiest person to speak to and to model with.

"These are great Chris," Caira says, her clothes changed from the lingerie she was wearing, to a summer dress.

"We look smoking hot Evan," she says, touching my back. "I'm definitely framing one of these for my office, if it's okay with you Evan?" she asks and I shrug.

"Sure," I say as the sound of my phone ringing from the table interrupts me from saying more. Shit, I forgot to silence my phone. "I'm sorry, I thought I silenced it," I apologize.

Christopher and Caira wave me off.

"Rookie mistake, besides we're done, good work Evan," Christopher says as we shake hands.

I smile at Caira as she grins and walks off with someone she came with, I rush over to answer my phone.

Seeing who's calling, I hesitate to answer but I know the more I avoid these calls, the more she'll keep trying to ring me or worse, show up in front of me.

Answering, I sigh.

"Mom, I can't talk right now, I'm at work."

"Evan.. baby," she slurs, as I hear people in the background. "I miss you, baby, where are you?" she asks, barely forming a sentence.

I walk away so no one can hear our conversation as I head into one of the changing rooms where my stuff is, I don't want anyone hearing anything from what I'm most likely about to say.

"Are you drunk?" I hiss out into the phone as I glance at the clock on the wall. "It's ten AM and you're drunk, how could you be this stupid mom, after everything I've done to get you sober."

I start feeling like answering the call might've been a mistake, whenever she calls it's nothing good and now she's drunk, again.

After all, I've done... the money... everything and she's still doing the same shit she always done.

"I don't want you to call me anymore, I can't keep doing this mom."

Her hoarse laugh invades my ears as the sound of a glass smashing hits the floor from her side of the call.

"Oh come off it Evan, I'm celebrating."

Rubbing my temple, I sit down on the sofa.

"What are you celebrating?" I ask, despite wanting to hang up.

"Well, the girls of course," she said as if that meant something to me. "They said you were nice and even invited them to stay. But of course, you did. My baby is so kind," she added with a chuckle.

I have no idea what the hell she's talking about.

"I don't know what you're talking about mom, listen just stop drinking and get sober, until then..."

"What are you talking about, silly boy," she huffs out. "Lilly and May, Roy's girls, your new sisters."

Roy's what?

I now have absolutely no idea what she's talking about, I never met any of his daughters, I'm sure if I did I'd run in the opposite direction just from knowing and seeing Roy for a few minutes.

I don't want anything to do with him or his fucking family, nor my 'mom', not after the shit she's been hiding from me.

"I never met any of his daughters," I say dryly. "Is that all you called to say... after the hell I've been through, is that all you wanted to tell me?" I snap, my voice raising.

"Evan, don't use that tone..."

"I use whatever tone I want," I raise my voice, standing up and clenching my hair with my hand.

"My place was broken into, you and a few others only knew my address, mom," I tell her, my voice harsh. "His daughters were probably the ones who stole my shit. So do yourself a fucking favor and lose my number and don't call me again, unless you want to explain why the fuck you lied about dad's death to me."

I'm breathing heavily at the point and I want nothing more than to make her feel exactly how I feel but I'm done with her and her bullshit.

"You're supposed to be my mom and not act like a fucking teenager," I swallow hard, as she stays silent and listens. "You lied to me, used me for money, threw your life away and now you're trying to play me, again but for what? Does this make you happy mom?"

Tears fill my eyes as someone knocks on the door, calling my name, I rub the tears from my eyes and then rub my face, taking a deep sigh out, as I catch myself in the reflection of the mirror.

"Don't contact me again mom, I can't do this again, whatever shitty excuse you have I don't need to hear it anymore," I tell her. "We're done."

I hang up and then just as I was going to throw my phone against a wall, my phone buzzed with a text message and I stop myself completely when I see who it is. Donovan.

"Evan, you alright in there? Your ride just arrived," Chris says, behind the door.

Jesus, I look like a fucking mess when I see myself up close in the mirror, if I open the door now before calming down, there will be questions or a fucking pity party, either way, I'm not opening that door until I'm dressed.

"Y-Yeah, thanks Chris," I call out, getting myself changed quickly. "I'll be right out in a minute, just getting ready."

Chris yells out 'okay' and I hear him walk away as I get dressed, opening Donovan's text in the process as I slip my shoes on.

ᴅᴏɴᴏᴠᴀɴ: I'm downstairs waiting for you.

I blink- wait what? Confused, I text him back.

Evan: What do you mean? I'm on the other side of town for a photoshoot.

Donovan texts me back almost right away, just as I put my shoes on and put my arms in my jacket, making me laugh and blush once I read what he says.

ᴅᴏɴᴏᴠᴀɴ: I can't just come and see my boyfriend, the serious model and serious actor?

Evan: No, in fact, you should be at work playing CEO, not playing hooky.

ᴅᴏɴᴏᴠᴀɴ: I do what I want, perks of being the BOSS.

I laugh and he sends another message before I could reply, making a sinking feeling in my gut start to appear.

ᴅᴏɴᴏᴠᴀɴ: I need to take you somewhere, hurry down and I'll tell you everything.

The sinking feeling in my gut just worsened and now I definitely don't want to leave the room but the thought of seeing Donovan during the day brings a smile to my face and after the call with my mom, I don't want to be alone right now.

[minflorist]

Watermelon Sugar

Pairing — Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Word Count — 1.6K

Genre & Content — Smut, college au(?), explicit language, porn w/o plot, spitting kink, cum eating(?), oral (f. receiving), sex in public except they don't really have sex (they do it in the library, to be specific), Chan's a bit of a jerk.

“Do it,” you challenge Chan, crossing your arms. “I dare you.”

It’s supposed to be a typical Friday afternoon. You’d spend an hour or so at the college library to finish some assignments, look through the thousands of books, mind your own business at the quiet halls then head straight home. Getting sidetracked by human interactions is the least of your worries, knowing that all of your closest friends attend different universities. You should be fine in your second year but Bang Christopher Chan's decided to ruin your daily routine by starting an argument over your love for space exploration—that he believes is an utter bullshit—much to your chagrin. His whole conceited demeanor changed when he takes notice of the lip balm you’ve had clenched in your fist, an idea coming up to his mind.

"Don’t mind if I do,” a smirk appears on his face, taking a few steps closer to you.

Of course, you’ve seen it coming. But it’s all so sudden when he grabs you by the hips, pulling you closer to him. The lip balm in your hand drops to the floor and is completely forgotten as he grabs your chin, closing the gap between the two of you. Your heart starts pounding while he keeps his eyes on you. You can barely form coherent thoughts, your main focus is on his lips—hoping he gets the signal to kiss you.

Throwing your last bit of shame out of the window, you take his hand onto your lips before kissing his knuckles. Trailing kisses on his palm then onto the back of his hand, you hear a hum of approval. In an effort to seduce him—as if what you’re doing isn’t enough—you take one of his fingers and start sucking it into your mouth, looking straight at him.

Chan swallows the lump in his throat before planting a kiss on the slope of your neck. Coincidence or not, he’s hit the specific spot. It’s enough for your breath to hitch in your throat. You hastily drag his hand down to lift your skirt up a bit. You feel his lips smirk against your neck when his hand’s finally underneath your underwear, stroking your wet pussy.

Just when you think it’s finally happening, he almost immediately pulls his hand away from where you need him the most and leans his forehead onto yours.  “Are you sure you want this, Y/N?”

Whatever happened to the person who said they want a taste of your lips?

“Just do what you have to do,” you breathe out, almost sounding like a whimper.

He chuckles. “So fucking cute and needy for me, huh?”

He doesn’t give you that much time to think of a comeback, pressing his lips against yours. Your back hits the bookshelf behind you as you fold your arms around his neck, combing your fingers through his hair. You feel the hand on your neck cradle the back of your head, pulling you as close as possible. His smooth tongue toys with your lips, invading your mouth as you sear each other with hot, passionate kisses.

“Your lips taste so fucking good,” he says in between kisses.

Soft moans escape from both of your lips, filling the quiet corner of the library.  “Want me to eat you out? Make you feel good?”

He doesn’t let you answer, capturing your lips again with his.

You pull away from the kiss. “Chan, I don't think we should do this here.”

“Where do you want to do it then?” he asks you, caressing your waist.

Your dorm? Definitely not, he’s going to get himself kicked out before he can take one step inside. Restroom? No way in hell you’re going to enter the men’s restroom nor let him enter the women’s restroom. An empty classroom? You doubt there’s a single one that’s unlocked. Running out of options, you decide to take the risk.

“Fuck it, let’s just do it here.”

Chan kneels down, looking up at you. “You have to be quiet though.”

You scoff. “I find it quite an easy ta— shit!”

Almost immediately, you cover your mouth with your hand when he presses a gentle kisses on your clothed pussy. His hands have found their way on your bare thighs, thumb brushing against your skin. You shift above him, feeling the anticipation of having his tongue against your core coming in.

He senses your impatience, a mischievous grin sliding onto his lips. “So you’re saying?”

“Asshole,” you mutter to yourself.

“I’m doing you a favor here—

Before he can even finish his sentence, you’ve already knitted your fingers in his hair to tug him towards where you need him the most. “Just shut up, will you?”

You try to look around to make sure no one’s suspicious of the noise you two have been making. Luckily, you’re in the Reference Section of the library that barely anyone walks through. It’s a perfect spot for people like you who can’t contain their hormones.

Chan doesn’t give you much time to think as he cups your heat with his hand to feel your wetness soaking through the fabric. You bite into your finger to suppress further noises escape your lips, watching him slide his fingers into the waistband of your underwear to pull it down onto the ground. You mindlessly spread your legs for him.

He looks up at you, a cocky smile plastered on his face. “You’re already this wet?”

Not wanting to hear another word from you, he starts teasingly sliding his two fingers up and down your slit. It’s enough to make you shudder, the feeling of his fingers’ already too much for you. You feel one of his fingers poke your entrance but before you can signal him to move, he finally pushes it inside you as his mouth starts working on your clit.

“Put one more” you manage to breathe out as you tug on his hair harder, your face and neck already covered with light layers of sweat. "Please."

You feel his lips smirk against your wet core before he slowly pushes another finger in, making you gasp loudly. He abruptly stops his movements, looking up at you. He’s never seen you this flustered, chest rising and falling with your pussy all wet and glistening for him. Usually, you’d have this stern look on your face before he can even say a word to you but now you're being shameless and begging for him.

“I thought shutting up is an easy task for you?”

As much as you want to slap that stupid grin away from his face, you’re too preoccupied to even bother think about a comeback. Slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, you arch your back from the shelf while holding on to his hair.

“Do you want it faster?” he asks, before licking a bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit. "Y/N?"

He expects you not to give in that easily but you nod, whimpering at the sensation. “Please, just please.”

“Well, that was easy,” he teases before he starts fucking your hole faster, producing lewd and wet noises.

You watch him as he flicks his warm tongue against your clit before sucking it, curling his fingers inside of you at the same time. Pushing him closer to your dripping pussy, you lift one of your legs to rest your foot on his shoulder for support. He would’ve been annoyed at you for laying your dirty shoe on his white polo but this position’s giving him more room for his tongue so who’s he to complain?

"Chan— fuck,” you pant.

He smirks against your core, loving the fact that he’s making you feel good enough for you to call him by his name. Not Bang. Not even asshole nor jerk. You called him Chan.

“You like that, Y/N?” he moans against your pussy, the vibration making your insides turn from the immense pleasure. He keeps the drilling pace of your pussy, feeling you clench around his fingers to signal your high. Not to keep you waiting, he continues to wrap his lips around your clit—sucking on it while flicking his tongue around with no intention of stopping.

It doesn’t take that long for you to feel your body giving up on you, legs shaking from pleasure as your head falls back.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing it roughly as you start rocking your hips against him. “That’s right, come for me.”

“Holy shit,” you drag out as you spill everything on his fingers and mouth.

Chan doesn’t waste time to stand up, keeping your juices inside his mouth. Cupping your cheeks, you almost immediately knew what he’s going to do. You part your lips open as he spits your cum into your mouth, not letting a single drop spill down your chin. “You’re so fucking hot.”

If he has enough time, he would’ve taken his precious time to look at your fucked out expression but he needs more. He wants more. Just as he’s about to unbuckle his belt, you’ve already pulled up your underwear before you start wiping your sweat off with the back of your hands.

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, placing his hands on the sides of his waist. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” you casually say as you grab your backpack from the ground, slinging it onto your shoulder. “Do you have a problem with that?”

He looks at you in disbelief, pointing at the obvious bulge on his pants. “You’re going to leave me with this?”

“You can handle it on your own, can’t you?” A cheeky smile escapes your lips.

Turning around to walk away from the clearly disappointed Chan, you suddenly hear him call out to your name. “Not even a blowjob? A handjob?

You stop in your tracks to face him again. “I’m not the type to return a favor, Bang.”

“You’ve had your taste, that’s all you’re going to get.”

#bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios

[libraryofloveletters]

also. 15+16 with eddie fluff/comfort including chris because he’s adorable

You Feel Like Home

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol

Prompts: #15: “Did you let yourself in?” // #16: “How did you get in my house?”

Category: fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: here’s a lil something because I haven’t posted a x reader in so long. Also I didn’t check for errors cause I'm lazy so ignore any mistakes :) 

----

It’s raining, the streets were drenching with water and muck which you found yourself staring at as you sat in your car at the intersection.

You had left your job, more like you were fired for something you didn’t do but you hated your job, 100 and 10% despited it and everyone there- needless to say, you didn’t mind not being there anymore.

The shitty weather on top of the idea of having to find a new job was putting more than damper on your day. So here you were in the middle of the day driving to your best friend’s house. He doesn't like to admit that he’s your best friend but he is and you both knew that.

The driveway was empty and the house was dark, at least from what you could see. Hopping out of the car, you make your way to the front door, the rain drenching your clothing. The key to his house hanging from the bunch you held in your hand, you let yourself in.

“Anyone home?” shouting into the dark house, slipping off your shoes.

There was no answer, you assumed Eddie was at work and Chris was still at school which made sense considering it was 2:30 on a Friday afternoon.

A puddle of water trialed behind you on your way to the bathroom, stopping to get a towel from the cupboard. The wet clothes get stripped off and tossed into the tub, making a mental note to come back and put them in the dryer after you get something to wear.

The towel now wrapped around you, you find your way down the hallway and into Eddie’s bedroom. There was a basket of folded laundry on the bed, deciding that it’s probably better to get something from the basket than to tumble through his drawers.

Just as you go to drop the towel, you hear the front door open and then a woman’s voice.

“Shit shit shit” you mumble to yourself and look around the room frantically- there’s no way you could get dressed before the person gets to the room, you have no choice but you stay the way you are.

The footsteps approaching the room, a knock on the door before it opens, Carla sticks her head in the room and you let out a breath of relief.

“Jesus, it’s just you” sitting on the bed, you smile at her and she laughs softly.

“Who’d you think it was hun?”

“I thought Eddie had come home, with a woman. That would have been hard to explain- ya know, a woman in a towel in his bedroom while he’s not home.”

“Mhm hm,” Carla has one of her famous mischievous looks on her face. “Sure, because it’s normal for you to be half naked in his bedroom when he isn't home.” She laughs.

“Were you waiting for him?” she teased, your face twists and you groan.

“Carla! No, god. I had a shitty day and I wanted to hang out. It was raining cats and dogs when I got here and my clothes got wet.” you explain what happened and she gives you a hum, stepping back out and leaving you to change.

You can hear laughter coming from the bedroom down the hall, you make your way there. Chris sat on his bed, looking out his window while he was on the phone.

“Love you too dad, bye” the phone is set beside him on the bed, you knock on the door and Chris looks back, his face lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey kiddo” smiling at the boy who’s now making his way over to you, you step into the room and meet him halfway.

“Hi! What are you doing here?” he asks you, hugging you.

“Came by to see your dad but he wasn’t home. I’m better now because you’re free” looking down at him, Christopher laughs and holds your hand as the two of you walk down the hallway to the living room. Carla brings him a snack and joins the two of you in the living room, Christopher telling you both about his day at school.

----

Eddie runs to the front door from his truck, the rain had been pouring all day.

“I’m home!” he shouts, as he steps in only for Carla to shush him from the kitchen.

His face screws and he makes his way down the hallway to Christopher’s room but he wasn't in there. Carla sat in the kitchen reading her book, she smiles when he steps in the kitchen.

“Hey, where’s Chris ?” he asks, washing his hands and pulling a pot out of the cupboard.

“Shower,” shutting the book, she slips it into her bag. “You’re going ?” Eddie glances over his shoulder, pouting slightly. Carla always helps him with dinner and truthfully, she’s the better cook out of the two.

“I’ve got myself a hot date tonight” She tells him, giving him a smile before making her way to the front door.

Eddie follows her, “what? really? But who’s going to keep me company while Chris does his homework ?” his hand coming up to his chest as he sighs dramatically.

Carla’s hand meets his, patting his chest. “Chris is done with his work, he had help” nodding towards the couch, Eddie follows her gesture to see you sleep on the couch.

“When did- are those my clothes ?” his mouth hung in disbelief.

Why were you asleep on his couch in his clothes ? He wasn't even home, how the hell did you get in ?

“Mhm hm” Carla hums, a soft laugh slipping past her lips. “Have fun sugar, I'll be back in the morning. Tell lil man I said bye” She steps out, pulling the door shut behind her.

The pattering of feet pulled Eddie’s attention away from a sleeping you on the couch.

“Dad!” Chris’s smile lit up the room, Eddie found himself smiling at his son.

“Hey buddy” he kneeled to hug him, holding him close after a long day at work.

“How was work ?” Christopher asks his father as the two make their way to the kitchen.  

“It was a fine, normal day of us saving the city” Eddie chuckled, smiling at his son who was sitting at the table now. “Hey bud?”

“Mhm hm ?”

“When did y/n get here?”

“I don’t know, she was here when me and Carla got home” he shrugs, turning his attention back to something Eddie had left out on the table.

Eddie is half way into the fridge and it was down to its bare bones. A carton of milk, two eggs left in a tray and a half used stick of butter - guess he had forgotten to go grocery shopping yesterday.

“How does pizza for dinner sound?” Eddie turns to Chris who’s nodding eagerly. Pizza was the way to that kid’s heart.

---

dinner was short, the boys talked about their day. Chris told his father all about his day at school and how they learned about the atmosphere and space in science class and Eddie told him about a resume they had today - the safe for work details of course, he always left out the gruesome parts.

“So Carla told me y/n helped with your homework ?”

“Yeah, I only had math work to do. It was easy”

Eddie hums, it was still relatively early and a Friday afternoon, he thought why not have a movie night.

“Here’s the plan for tonight, you tidy up your room real quick and then we can build a fort and have movie night. How does that sound ?”

“Like a plan!” he smiles at Eddie before getting up. Eddie sits at the table watching Chris make his way into the hallway and towards the bathroom.

The sound of a snore brought him back to reality, he remembered you were still on the couch asleep. He quietly got up and made his way over, crouching in front of the couch.

You looked at peace, which was strange to him because the two of you are always bickering or poking each other about something. The only times he had seen you smile was if someone made fun of him or if you were with Chris - he had never actually seen you relaxed.

“Take a picture and leave or I'm filing a restraining order” you mumble sleepily. Eddie laughed, you were always teasing him about his stare.

Eddie stands, lifting your legs and sitting before dropping them down onto his lap. “How did you get in my house? Did you let yourself in?”

“I used the key” rolling onto your jacket, you shift upwards slightly. The disapproval on Eddie’s face was very much visible.

“I gave you that key for emergencies!”

“It was an emergency!”

Eddie sighs, his hand rubbing the piece of bare skin showing from the rolled up pants. The room is quick, the sound of the rain pouring echoed through the house.

“What’s on your mind ? I can practically see the wrinkles forming on your face”

“Hey!” you nudged him with your foot while he laughed. “Nothing,” sitting up to face him properly. “I just had a shitty day and wanted to see my bes- my friend.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “Your what ?” “Shut up Eddie”

“No no, say it” he grabs your foot, his fingers reaching to the sole of your foot. Your eyes widen, shaking your head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh but I do” he smirks before tickling the bottom of your foot. You try to pull your foot away but you’re laughing and wiggling around on the couch so much that you end up rolling off but your foot is still on Eddie’s lap.

There you were lying diagonally off the couch with your feet on his lap. He shifts to the floor, now sitting beside you. The two of you have your backs up against the couch.

“Seriously, talk to me. What’s up ?”

“Just wanted some company. Work was shitty and I- I don’t know. I didn’t know where to go. There’s nothing waiting for me at my place, the weather’s kinda depressing so I didn’t want to go drinking because it would just make me sad” you chuckle, turning your head to face him.

“I got in the car and just drove and I ended up here. This is home, you know? ” you admit. Humming, he smiles.

“I’m glad you felt like you could come here.”

“Well I know you couldn’t kick me out. You love me and my puppy face too much” you pout playfully making his laugh before nudging you with his shoulder.

Eddie’s arm is now over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “You’re welcomed here anytime.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Tilting your head from his shoulder, you're now face to face with him. There had always been unspoken feelings between the two of you, everyone could see that - even the two of you.

He leans in, a hand cupping your cheek like it was chiseled to fit the curve of your structure perfectly.

The palm of your hand wraps around his wrist, leaning closer to him.

This was the moment you were waiting for.

“DAD!” Chris shouts, causing Eddie to pull away. Not that either of you minded but there does that moment.

“Yeah ?” His hand was still cupping your cheek. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“Of course, pick one out.” He moves his hand to give the remote to Chris, you cheek cold from the loss of touch.

The 3 of you settle into the couch, Christopher between the two of you. The boy settled on Space Jam though he had seen it a million times.

Eddie’s arm is stretched over the back of the couch. It was bent at an awkward position, his fingers barely grazing your cheek, letting you know that he’s right there.

The two of you shared stolen glances all night, watching each other more than the movie. Eventually Chris fell asleep between the two of you.

You felt safe, peaceful, home.

This felt like home.

----- 

taglist: @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner @captainxholmes @advicefromnixxxx @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @dralexreid

#eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz oneshot #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz fan fic #eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz fic #edmundo diaz #911 #911 fanfic #911 fic #911 imagine #911 oneshot #911 reader insert #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 fox #9-1-1 fanfic #9-1-1 x reader #9-1-1 reader insert #9-1-1 imagine #9-1-1 oneshot #9-1-1 fan fic

[buckyownsmylife]

Do I wanna know? - Chris Evans smut

The one where you’re pregnant, and Chris can’t keep his hands away from you.

Warnings: smut, masturbation, dirty talk, daddy! kink, kind of breeding kink?, possessiveness but kind of in a cute way?, pregnant reader

A/N: Day 10 of kinktober prompts were pregnancy and watching the other get off. Still publishing smut unrevised because I can’t be bother to both write and revise everything in the same day, so if anyone wants to become my beta, I’ll love you forever.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Even when my belly was barely visible, he was already incapable of keeping his hands to himself, always holding, and rubbing and kissing and then his hands would go a bit lower and he’d find me wet and ready for him, like I always was.

Only now that I was big enough that I was waddling my way everywhere, it was like I was some sort of visual viagra for Chris. He was always hard, always in need of my help to get through the day. Our sex life had never been slow when he was back into my arms, but now it was impossible to do anything without finding myself getting pounded by my boyfriend wherever we could find any semblance of privacy.

Which was why when he gave me those puppy eyes after seeing me take off the dress I’d put on for our weekly date night, I decided it was time to try something new. 

“Chris, I physically can’t have your dick inside of me anymore, at least not for a few days,” I warned him, holding the hands with which he was trying to grab me to pull me against his body. “I’m serious.”

He was full-on pouting, now, and I could see from the corner of my eyes that there was already a tent on the sweatpants he had put on to bed, so I sighed, getting on my tiptoes to deposit a quick kiss on his lips, and quickly running away before he could grab me again.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do…” I started, sitting on our bed by the headboard, and stretching my legs open as I held my nipples between my fingers. “You’re gonna sit on that chair by the corner of the room, and you’re gonna play with your cock as you watch me play with myself.”

He groaned, immediately wrapping his hands around himself over the sweatpants and almost falling over his own legs while trying to reach his seat. “Fuck, you look so sexy, princess… If you could only look at yourself right now.”

The sight of him licking his lips as he stared at me, sprawled out for his viewing pleasure, had me whimpering. Fuck Christopher Evans and his eyelashes and his stupidly pink mouth. “You like it, daddy? This is yours, all yours. I’m all yours, baby.”

I pulled on my sensitive nipples, just enough to get me whining. I really was roughed up from the amount of times I’d had Chris inside of me the last few days, but if I was gentle enough, I’d be able to still put on a show for him and pleasure myself without hurting my lower parts.

“Shit, yeah, baby. Pull on those sweet nipples for me. I love sucking on them so much, I can’t wait to see our child drinking from you.” Fuck, one of the things I loved the most about my man was how filthy he could get when we were down to business.

“Oh, yeah, daddy? What about this pussy, so you like tasting it?” I allowed my hand to travel further down my body, until my middle finger was grazing my opening and I could use it to circle my clit. It was so enlarged from my hormones getting me horny despite the fact that I’d been fucked every single day of the week that this simple touch felt like heaven, making me throw my head back and expose my neck to Chris, who cursed at the sight of my breasts bouncing slightly from the sudden movement.

“Hell yeah, baby girl, I love it so much. You taste so fucking sweet, I miss it every single time I’m not down on my knees, with your legs over my shoulders. Collect some of that wetness and taste it yourself, honey. Want you to understand why I love eating that pretty pussy.” He’d made me suck on his fingers after they were inside of me a thousand times, but doing it myself, under his watchful gaze, made the whole thing so much hotter.

He was right, I was sweet. But I don’t think I would have appreciated it as much if he wasn’t looking at me like that, like he wanted to devour me whole, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the veins in his neck popping from the restrain he was exercising as he tried to keep himself from cumming.

His thick cock, the reason for many of my wet dreams, was dripping from it’s red tip, and I had to bite my own lip to contain my desire to have him in my mouth. There was always time for that later. Right now, this little experience we were sharing was more than enough.

Chris’ P.O.V.

“So fucking hot, baby. I love you so much. I could spend the rest of my life between your legs and I’d die a happy man. And you’d let me, wouldn’t you? It doesn’t matter that your pretty little pussy is red and abused, if I asked you to spread your legs for me, you’d do so in a second.”

I had to chuckle at the long, drawn-out whine my girlfriend emitted at my words. “Don’t whine, baby. You know how it gets me too fucking hard when you whine like a pretty little baby. If you whine, I’ll have to put you over my lap and punish you.”

She gasped at my words, her little fingers finally plunging inside of her hole as she stared down at me with those fuck-me eyes. Oh, how I loved her. She was my partner, my equal in every single way. 

“I don’t think we can get any kinkier, honey,” I joked, squeezing my dick as I watched her thrust her fingers inside of her pussy. She let out a tiny choked up laugh at my teasing, still too busy with chasing her high as I watched her from the chair.

“I don’t know… I can think of a few new ways to experiment when I’m no longer knocked up.” I growled at her response, suddenly feeling my cock throbbing against my fist. Not only the knowledge that she truly was as horny as I was, and up to try new things anytime, already had me feel like cumming, but the reminder that she was pregnant with my child almost made me lose control then and there.

Of course, the visual reminder was there, and I fucking loved it - it was the main reason why I’d been unable to keep my dick in my pants these last few weeks - but to hear it in her mouth, it only made the entire experience even more real.

“You like being pregnant with my child, baby? You like knowing that I ruined you for any other man, because the only cum you’ll want between your legs is mine?” Her breath hitched at my words, her movements on her clit accelerating, as I mirrored in my own cock. “Tell me you love my seed, honey. Tell me you love the fact that I turned you into a mommy, that you can’t wait to be knocked up by me again.”

It was enchanting to see her cumming, and one of the many reasons why I knew I had to have her for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine myself without her anymore, and I wanted to be the one bringing (or, in this case, witnessing) her pleasure until our dying days. 

The sight of her mouth hanging open, her fingers deep inside of her - where I wished I could be - and her breasts jumping from her effort to get more air in her lungs had me cursing as I, too, reached my own high, spurting cum all over my stomach. 

“You okay, honey?” I asked after I grabbed a wet towel to clean ourselves with, sitting by her side on the bed, where she laid like she didn’t have any ounce of energy left in her body.

“Yes,” she guaranteed me, but I could hear it in her voice that she was almost asleep already. “Chris?” She asked as I softly ran the fluffy fabric in between her legs, and I hummed to let her know I was listening. “Why are you so attracted to the idea of me being pregnant?”

My lips twitched up in amusement at her question, but nonetheless, I knew the answer already. “I like the idea of the world knowing you’re mine. Yes, it’s possessive, but that’s me, and I know you love me, sweetheart.”

I kissed her little nose as I curled up behind her, my hands protectively holding my unborn baby and my very sleepy baby mama. “I do love you, you absolute caveman,” she joked, and with a laugh, I went to sleep with barely contained excitement for the next day, when I would finally be able to add a ring to the list of physical evidence that she was mine and mine alone.

#chris evans #chris evans smut #smut #my fics #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #chris evans reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans oneshot #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans writing #chris evans writings

[toosicktoocare]

hi, here’s some Buck and Eddie sleeping quarantining together 

It’s ten minutes of Buck listening to Eddie roll and shift around in his makeshift bed that he clears his throat and props himself up on his elbow, sighing. “This is stupid.” It’s dark, but he can still make out the dark lump on the floor beside his bed moving until it’s taller, and Eddie’s bare, tan skin is barely visible, his blanket pooling around his waist. 

“Is this your way of inviting me to the bed?” Eddie’s voice is passively eager, and Buck sighs again, louder, a little more drawn out. 

“Yes.” He drags out the word, a laugh slipping past his lips as Eddie hops up from the floor and throws himself on the bed, rolling over Buck to the empty side. 

Eddie breathes through a deep sigh, the content evident on his breath, and Buck rolls over until he’s lying on his side, facing Eddie with a cocked brow. 

“The floor can’t be that bad.” 

“Tell that to my back.” 

Buck huffs out a laugh, and he moves until he’s lying on his back, matching Eddie’s position. He stares at the ceiling, and though his muscles are still, his heart’s beginning to quicken in speed until it’s a rapid, rabbit’s foot thump against his rib cage. “This isn’t weird, right?” 

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Eddie grumbles around a yawn, and Buck can feel Eddie shift around in the bed.

He peers over to see Eddie lying on his stomach, his back faintly exposed with the blanket only pulled up to his hips. His head is turned away from Buck, and contradicting his own words, Buck stares, his eyes following the small, sharp curve of Eddie’s back. 

“Go to sleep, Buck,” Eddie mutters, and Buck whips his gaze back to the ceiling and swallows thickly. 

He’s thankful his ceiling fan ticks slightly because otherwise, he’s sure Eddie would be able to physically hear his heart threatening to burst out his chest. He squeezes his eyes closed tightly and takes to breathing exercies to steady his heart rate: in for four, hold for seven, out for four. He repeats this until his face falls slack, and then comes the water. 

It creeps at the edge of his dream, a muted crescendo to decrescendo lapping faintly at his ears. It brings a furrow to his brow, and he rolls onto his side, his back to Eddie, to try and jostle the hint of a dream away during a brief bout of consciousness. 

It comes back stronger when he nods off again. He falls into his first REM cycle, and the water’s all around him, floating debris slamming against his ankles. He stares around, stuck in a vast, seemingly endless, pool of rushing water that whips strongly around him, trying to pull him off his feet. 

He holds his ground, bracing himself with bent knees, but then the debris gets bigger, longer, and he spares a glance down to see that the chairs and trashcan lids have morphed into listless bodies floating along the pulsing waves. 

No, he thinks, shaking his head. Something’s off. The dark walls around him are closing in, but they can’t because he’s missing something. Someone..? 

“Christopher?” 

He works the name around his jaw, frowning, and the single word feels sour but right. Christopher should be with him, beside him, his small hand in his, but he’s not. There are bodies floating face first in the water around him, and Christopher isn’t here. 

“Chris?” he tries, eyes scanning his darkening surroundings. He can’t... He can’t lose Christopher; he...

“Christopher!”

Something latches onto Buck’s leg, sharp, breaking his skin, and he falls, his entire head going under. The water’s cold and murky, painted in faint wisps of red, and Buck cannot breathe. There’s something heavy pushing against his chest, keeping him under, and he can’t break free. 

“Christopher!” he shouts, dirty water rushing into his mouth, sinking heavy in his lungs. He twists and fights against the dark force against his chest. He tries to break free because he can’t breathe, and if he can’t breathe, then Christopher probably can’t breathe. 

The water around him is growing redder, thicker. It’s getting harder to see, and it’s cold. 

“Buck!”

He pushes with every muscle; his jaw clenched tightly. “Christopher!” he calls back. “I”m here!”

“Buck!”

Christopher’s voice sounds different, deeper but similarly desperate, and Buck’s lungs are burning. He needs to...

“Buck!”

Buck jerks forward, a strangled scream ripping up his throat, and he grips at the arms in front of him, staring frantically hard at the face before him, a face that’s pale, lifeless, floating, until it’s not. 

“Buck? You with me?”

Eddie’s face slowly gains life and color until Buck can make out his sharp, worried features: his dark eyes narrowed, his forehead creased, his jaw set hard. “Eddie?” he rasps out, fingers tightening around Eddie’s arms. 

“Hey, yeah. It’s me. Are you okay?” 

A loaded question. Buck’s far from fine; Buck hasn’t been fine for a long time. He nods, but he doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s frown deepens. 

“You were mumbling for Christopher.” 

“It was just a dream,” Buck tries. He doesn’t want Eddie to worry about him; he doesn’t want anyone to see through the plasters he’s thrown up to mask his cracks. 

“About the tsunami? Buck, have you-”

“-it’s fine, Eddie,” Buck says, pushing his voice to be light yet firm. “I’m fine.” Even as he says it, his fingers are still digging into Eddie’s arms, and he slowly releases his grip and falls back against his back with a sigh. “Sorry.” 

Even through the dark, Buck can make out the brief pull of conflict against Eddie’s face. He knows Eddie wants to say more, but instead, Eddie carefully lies back on his back, his shoulder brushing against Buck’s. 

“You going to be okay?” 

No, Buck thinks. 

“Of course.” 

***

Buck stares at his bed; it’s still a mess of tangled sheets. His comforter’s been kicked toward the end of the bed. He got hot last night, after his dream. The heat was welcome though, comforting and encompassing, and when he woke to his alarm, he was on his side, and Eddie was pressed flush against his back, his arm wrapped tightly around Buck’s waist. 

Buck can’t remember his dreams from the night before after the intrusive tsunami one. All he can remember is bright, wide-open warmth that wrapped around him, carried him over a light, welcoming breeze. 

“Should we make the bed first?” 

Buck turns a smile to Eddie, who’s walked up to his side, head tilting at the mess of the bed. 

“I never really saw the point of making a bed if you’re just going to mess it up again later.” 

Eddie breathes through a laugh, and he slips around Buck and flops onto the bed, a deep sigh morphing into a groan. “Me either, but my mother and my grandmother insisted.” 

“Well, luckily they aren’t here, and you’re just stuck with me.” Buck climbs onto the bed, watching as Eddie fiddles with his phone. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to Facetime, Chris,” Eddie starts, and he tugs at Buck’s arm until Buck’s falling onto his back beside Eddie, his shoulder knocking into Eddie’s. 

Eddie holds his phone up until the camera’s squishing both their faces close into the small square in the corner, and then the call’s being answered, and Christopher’s face is so close, his smile so wide. 

“Buck!” 

Buck suddenly feels warm from head to toe, and he smiles so naturally wide. “Hey, Christopher!” 

“Are you and daddy having a sleepover?” 

Eddie snorts, and Buck slaps his leg outside of the camera. “Your dad’s elderly back can’t handle the floor.” He laughs loudly when Eddie’s over-dramatic pout covers their small screen in the corner. 

“Tell us about your day, Chris. How’s virtual school going?” 

Buck listens as Chris talks excitedly about his day, in specific detail, and for the first time, despite everything that’s happening and has happened, he feels calm, at peace, if he’s willing to admit he’s being cliche. 

Chris and Eddie bounce naturally off each other for thirty minutes before Chris has to get off to get ready for bed. He and Eddie follow suit, and before Buck knows it, he’s back in last night’s position, lying on his back in the dark and staring at the ceiling, hoping, desperately, that his ceiling fan will continue to mask the echoing thump of his heart. 

They lie like this for a while, and though Buck says nothing out loud, he knows Eddie’s still awake and working through his own thoughts. 

“You know Chris is okay, right?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Because of you,” Eddie adds. “Chris is fine.” 

There are things Buck knows that Eddie leaves unsaid: it was a while ago, stop worrying about it, I’m not mad. 

“He’s a strong kid,” Buck opts for, turning his gaze when Eddie shifts until he’s propped up on his elbow, his body twisted toward Buck. 

“You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. Though,” Eddie pauses, his face falling, “I wish you would. But, whether you open up to me or not, I know I’ve told you before, but you’ve got to let go of the guilt, Buck. No one could have predicted that, and you literally drove yourself to a hospital bed searching for him. You didn’t just save him, either. You saved so many people that day, and I don’t blame you for what happened. I haven’t lost my trust in you. I still stand by my thinking that Chris is safest when he’s with you.” 

Buck’s eyes are stinging. He blinks quickly, slowing craning his neck until’s he’s looking up into Eddie’s dark eyes. “Good thing you just did enough talking for both of us.” 

Eddie groans around a light laugh, and he flops back down onto the bed, twisting his body more toward Buck until he’s draping himself half atop Buck, his face dropping to Buck’s neck. 

“I hate you. Haven’t you ever heard of a moment?” 

“Who the hell has moments at 10 PM?”

“Lots of people!”

“Will you two please shut up?” 

Eddie pushes himself up, his lips pursing together, biting back a laugh at Chimney’s groan from the couch downstairs. 

Buck can’t help but giggle, and then Eddie’s falling back against him, and they’re trying, and promptly failing, to cover their laughs. 

“I forgot he was here,” Eddie whispers. 

“Too lost in the moment?” 

Eddie buries his face back to the crook of Buck’s neck, and his breathy laugh is warm against Buck’s skin. They lie like this for a moment, both laughing quietly until their breathing evens out, and only the sound of the ticking ceiling fan cuts through the silence. 

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” 

Buck’s seen Chris tonight. Granted, it was through a camera that sometimes froze, leaving Chris’s voice still echoing through the speaker despite his face blurred mid-turn. But, he saw him. Alive. Breathing. Steady on dry land. And, Buck thinks, he’s got a very real, very alive, body atop him, keeping him grounded, keeping him from floating away. 

Is he okay? No, Buck thinks. Okay is a loaded word with multiple jagged edges that struggle to smooth out and meet in the middle. But, tonight? With Eddie firm at his side, with Christopher safe and warm in his own bed? 

“Yeah,” he says, and he can feel Eddie smile against his neck. 

“I think I will be.” 

#Buddie #911 fox #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fox #evan buckley #Eddie Diaz #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #emotional hurt/comfort #nightmares

[pettygangfriend]

Christopher

Pairing: Rio x reader

Requested by: @bellabean5591 (I hope you enjoy it! 💞)

Warnings: SMUT. mentioning of bodily fluids, fingering, oral (female receiving), cursing & using of the term ‘daddy’.

Word count: 1387

After a long day of babysitting your friend’s billion kids, you were glad to be finally home, and able to relax. The thought of soaking your body in a hot bath being the only thing on your mind, right now.

You throw your keys on the kitchen counter, before walking into your room. You’re about to take of your clothing, but soon figure something’s missing. Grabbing your phone, you play one of your favorite song’s.

A little music never hurt anyone, right?

You pull the piece of fabric over your head, swaying your hips to the rhythm of the sensual music as you did so. Next were your jeans, and you start unbuttoning them slowly, before sliding them off your body.

As you stand before the big mirror in front of you, you can’t help but admire yourself. Maybe it was the effect of the inappropriate lyrics, or maybe it was simply because of how good you looked. Either way, it had you feeling some type of way.

Your hands start to roam your body, starting at your neck. You slide your fingertips over your breasts, your nipples hardening at the action. Your other hand is playing in your hair, and you can’t help but bite your lip softly.

“Fuck, you look fine as hell”

You immediately jumped at the unexpected but all too familiar voice coming from behind you. Your hands clutch your chest, and you turn around, almost falling over in the process.

“What- what the fuck Rio!” You yell out, still trying to catch your breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?”

“I could ask you the same damn thing, ma” he says, leaning against the doorframe, not even trying to be subtle at checking you out.

“You’re not gonna finish your little show, though?” He asks you, almost sounding amused, as a smirk plays on his lips.

“No, I’m not. I’ve got a bath waiting for me, so if you don’t mind-“

“Think you forgot to take those off then” he cuts you off, nodding his head at the last pieces of fabric covering your intimate parts.

It wasn’t the first time he has seen you like this, yet you still felt somewhat vulnerable everytime he did. Maybe it was the way every room he enters was immediately filled with such intensity, but your body couldn’t help but react. So instead of humoring him and his words, you decide to be bold and take the upper hand.

“Why don’t you come take it off me, Christopher.”

The smirk on his lips disappears, but quickly gets replaced by a look of seriousness. His jaw clenches at the mentioning of his name falling from your lips. No one calls him that, yet here you were. Standing in front of him, testing his limits.

Rio walks over to you, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a sense of nervousness. Still, you made sure to keep his gaze, trying your best to not let him read you.

“What did you just call me?” He asks you, wanting to give you a chance to back down. Something you were definitely not doing.

“Chris-“ you take a step towards him, a smile creeping up your face.

“To-“ you look his body up and down, fueling his amusement even more.

“Pher.”

As you reached the last part of his name, he grabs you by your waist, pushing you against his body roughly. Your heart is pounding inside your chest, and you’re almost certain he could feel it, being so close to you.

“We’re being cute, huh? Let’s see how cute we can get”

His hands finds its way between the two bodies, before cupping your covered heat. Feeling the wetness through your panties, he can’t help but let out a groan.

“Already, mama?”

Before you can even reply with something smart, you feel his fingers slide into your panties, meeting your slick pussy. A moan escapes your lips, and you look up at Rio, who’s clearly enjoying your reaction.

His fingers meet your sensitive clit, rubbing rough circles around it. The moaning and panting is like music to Rio’s ears, and he would like to turn the volume up some more.

His fingers are removed from your clit, and you let out a disappointed whine, causing Rio to chuckle softly.

“Don’t worry, ma. I got you” he murmurs, before sliding two of his digits inside your soaked walls, making you gasp at the sudden feeling. His fingers are pumping in and out in a fast pace, and you grab on to Rio to keep steady.

“F-fuck, don’t stop” you desperately bring out, clenching your legs together as you did so.

The feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you became too much, and you could feel your climax approaching. Your walls were tightening around his fingers, giving Rio a heads up. He keeps hitting that special spot inside of you, and just as you were about to cum, he pulls his fingers out of you.

Your face changes from pure pleasure to complete confusion in just a matter of seconds.

“What’s my name?” He asks you again, bringing his, in your juices coated fingers, up to your lips, tapping on them to open up. You know what he’s trying to do, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. Two can play this game.

Grabbing a hold of his wrist, you take his digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them as you sucked them completely clean. You took them out of your mouth again, as you look up at Rio innocently.

“Christopher.”

His looks at you with slightly parted lips, not knowing whether he’s impressed, turned on, or all of the above. Moving his hands to your panties, he tears them off in one smooth move.

Your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment, not expecting you would get him this riled up. You didn’t get much time to comprehend anything though, with Rio dragging you over to the bed, pushing you on to it.

It only takes a couple of seconds, before Rio settles himself between your tighs, not wasting any time.

He places a couple of kisses on your thigs, before burying his face between them, lapping away at your clit. His hands slide up your body and to your breasts, cupping them roughly.

Your fingers tangle themselves in the bedsheets, and you arche your back at the overwhelming pleasure that’s taking over your body.

“Oh god,” you moan, and he grips your hips, pulling you towards his face even more, if that’s even possible. Your hands move over to his head, wanting to keep him in place.

You close your eyes, throwing your head back as your mouth falls open. You’re trying to keep your breathing in check, but once you feel two digits enter your pussy, you let out an unexpected scream.

“P-please, I’m gonna cum” Your grab his arm and dig your nails into his soft skin. He looks up from his position, the lust evident in his eyes. He removes his mouth from your pussy, but is still pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“What’s my name?”

This time you didn’t care if he won, you didn’t care about giving in. All you care about right now, is finding that sweet release, even if it meant giving him what he wants.

“Daddy, fuck! Please don’t stop, daddy” you scream out, almost embarrassed by your own desperation.

“That’s right, baby. That wasn’t so hard, was it, now?” Rio says, sounding satisfied by your answer.

He goes right back to attacking your clit, and it doesn’t take long before you are pushed over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his head as you let your orgasm wash over you.

Lapping up the last of your juices, Rio laughs at the state of your shaking legs and closed eyes. He loves having this effect on you, he loves being the only person who gets to see you like this.

Once your breathing is somewhat steady again, you open your eyes, finding Rio hovering above you with a smirk on his face.

“Better be quick to catch your breath, cause I ain’t done with you yet, mama”

If you’d like to be removed from/added to my taglist, please let me know! ✨

@appropriate-writers-name

@gemini0410

@chrmdnbeautiful

@isisafrofairy

#good girls rio #manny montana #nbc good girls #rio good girls #rio x reader

[georgiapeach30513]

Does Lucy ever feel like the odd one out in the family, being that she’s so much younger than her siblings? I feel like her siblings are all amazing (as is she!) but I’d love to see her being vulnerable with Chris about her insecurities and stuff like that. I feel like he’s just be the best at comforting her

Lucy's age isn't what makes her feel like the odd one out. I mean Chris is older than Blade. Even her body art doesn't make her feel like the odd one out, because her sister's love it. Lucy uses her appearance to further her artwork, she's really good with makeup too. Her biggest insecurity, is she's shorter than her sister's, and she feels she isn't as pretty as they are. Chris never lets a day go by without letting her realize how beautiful she is to him.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Perfect For Me

Summary:  Lucy doesn’t think she’s pretty

Pairings:  Chris X Lucy

Rating:  sweets

Warnings: insecure Lucy, language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  550

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Lucy Drysdale Masterlist

"Lucy!” Chris shouts jumping on the bed behind her.  She had slept in late, and he was ready for their day to get started.  He leans in towards her body, mouth directly over her ear, “Lucy, my beautiful, amazing, wonderful, mean as fuck fiancé, wake up!”

She only snuggles in deeper to the bed, pushing her ass more into his crotch, “I will fuck you awake if you keep putting this tush on my junk.  Wake up!”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I don’t care.  We were going to go take a few kids to the dog park,” Lucy growls, but he only leans in closer to her face, giving her ear a nibble.  “This was your idea.”

“We don’t even have a dog.”

“There’s three in the family,” he pushes her to her back, and goes to straddle her tiny little body, his hands roam up her shirt, and he plays with those little piercings.  The very ones that introduced him to his Honey Bee.  She lets out a soft little sigh at his motions.  “Come on beautiful, don’t even have to get ready, I prefer no bra anyway.”

“If you’re making me be around a bunch of kids, I need my tits in a bra,” Chris scoffs at her, but leans forward to press a soft kiss on her lips, and moving down to kiss her nippes over her shirt.  “You really think I’m beautiful?”

Chris gives her nipples a hard pinch and she bites her bottom lip to keep from keening.  Her vertical labret poking out a bit more.  “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world,” she gives an eye roll, and tries to get him off of her.

“I’m too small and short to get you off of me.  So please, if you could Christopher.”

“You are perfect in this size.  I can carry you in my pocket.  I wish you could see you the way I see you.  From that first meeting, you kinda intimidated me.  Imagine this tiny little girl, and this big ass personality, with a great set of tits, and when those golden eyes of yours looked at me, Luce, I knew I was in trouble.  I was glad you were put on my book.  I would have stole you from someone anyways.  Nobody needs to put a needle in this body but me.”

Her hand twists around his shirt and pulls him down to lay his head on her chest, “I don’t look like them.  They’re just so...”

“Lucy, you don’t have to look like them to be beautiful.  I’m not gonna sit here and say your sisters are ugly, because they’re not.  But you’re the only one that’s beautiful and hot.  You’re the only one with this wicked kick ass personality.  The only one who doesn’t give a fuck about what people think.  You said it yourself you’re surprised they haven’t blown up with how much they worry about what other’s think,” she gives him a groan, and he pulls back to look at her.  “What?”

“They’re perfect.”

“For their husbands.  You’re perfect for me.  And I’m who really matters in your life right?” she gives him a giggle, but nods her head.  “Exactly.  I don’t need anyone else but you.  You’re the perfect size for me, and if you were prettier, people would wonder why you were with me.”

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #da au #da au ask #da au request #lucy drysdale #destroyer!chris #lucy drysdale x chris

[wagner-fell]

“Hey whore. Can I ask you a question?”

“Excuse me?”  the shocked voice of Tessa Gray asked. “That is no way to anyone, let alone your mother.”

Kit’s eyes widened in horror. “I, er, um. Haha, wrong number. Bye. Love you.”

“Christopher Jonathan Herondale, don’t you dare hang up on-” He hung up.

Kit placed his phone onto the cold, stone bench, case facing up. He took a quick look at the two photos wedged between the thick plastic of his Otterbox and the hard copper of his literal lifeline.

The first one was of himself, Jem, Tessa and Mina in front of a Christmas tree. It had been taken last year by a begrudging Mari. She grumbled away the entire time about ‘why in the world was she willingly being the angel bitches servant’ but in the end she was the one who had printed it for him in the first place.

Mina was clutching Church for dear life, a euphoric smile spread across her tiny face. It never ceased to amaze Kit how quickly she was growing up.

The second photo was of all the Merry Hoes in Blessica’s basement just a few weeks ago. They all sported their matching jackets. It was slightly off center as Blessica’s brother was blind and therefore had no way of seeing what he shot on the old Polaroid. But it was perfect.

Blessica’s brother is the only person in her family who knows she is a werewolf. Her parents and two sisters just think she sleeps over at Maria’s a lot.

Kit drug his hands down his face and sighed deeply . He was definitely going to pay for that later. He would have been surprised Tessa was still awake at three am if he weren’t too mortified to feel any other emotion.

With another sigh, he picked up the phone and scrolled through his contacts once more. He took extra care to click on the right name.

“Hey whore. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, daddy,” answered his intended target immediately. Astrid Yang may have been a lesbian, but she was also a kinky bitch.

“What would you do if your ex-crush who you're still sorta kinda not over liked a post with you and your girlfriend.”

The line went dead for several minutes before she responded. “In this hypothetical scenario, who has the bigger mommy milkers?”

Kit scratched his head and held the photo closer to his ear. “Well the first one doesn’t even have tits so..”

“So what was I doing simping over her? I obviously stay with my current girlfriend. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.”

He could have told Astrid about a million things, ranging from asking her if she was really that shallow to reminding her that she has literally almost passed out because a hot girl winked at her (she’s not as picky with her crushes as she thinks she is) but instead he sputtered out, “this isn’t about leaving Mari or not.”

Several things crashed on the other side of the phone. “You're leaving Mari?!”

“No! I just said-“ Kit took a long breath and sighed for the third time. “You know how when I’m bored I keep updating Insta?”

“Yeah, we all know that you’re a massive narcissist, go on.”

“Well I was doing that because I couldn’t sleep and Ty liked one of my posts with Mari. You know, the one where we’re doing that Tik Tok dance.”

“No I don’t know. You guys do like a million Tik Tok dances.” There was a rustling noise on Astrid’s end. It sounded like she was picking up the stuff that clattered to the floor.

“The one where she calls me an ‘uncultured slut’. Which I blame you for.”

“Oh, yeah. I did say that. Haha.” A small grin made its way into Kit’s face, despite the dire situation.

“But when I refreshed it again, it was gone. So now I’m wondering if he deleted it or I imagined it.”

“Hmmm. If Mitski’s ex-girlfriend, with equally big boobies, liked her post with the girl she was seeing now, what would she do?”

“Ast, what does Mitski have anything to do with my struggles?” Kit could practically hear his friend rolling her eyes.

“My parents always used to say,” she cleared her throat and imitated her dad’s gruff voice. “’If in trouble, ask yourself, what would our lord and savior Jesus Christ do?’ But Mitski is my lord and saviour. Besides, Mitski is always relevant in some way.”

“First of all, agreed. Second of all, I told you, Ty isn’t my ex-boyfriend. He’s my ex-crush.”

Astrid was the only one out of the Merry Hoes who knew about Ty. It wasn’t that he was purposely trying to exclude everyone else. Astrid had just happened to be the one who was nearest the day of the anniversary he left Los Angeles.

“Wait, for real? Why not? You’re a total babe!”

“Thanks. But we didn’t really get the chance to go on a date as I may have confused my love for him than ran away to a different country. Lol!”

“Kit, my dude. This is way too juicy, I mean serious, a topic to discuss over the phone. Wanna come over? I have crisps and a Stranger Things binge calling your name.”

Kit was fully aware that he went to her house, they weren’t going to talk more about the insistent. They were going to laugh so hard water would come out of their noses. And see how many candies could fit on their tongues. And Kit appreciated that.

“That would be great. I- hold on. My dad’s calling me. See ya soon.” Kit switched lines. “Hey, I’m really sorry for-”

“Greeting whore,” Jem said in the most monotone voice possible. There was silence for moments before Kit’s parents started laughing.

Kit has never been more confused in his life. Okay, that is a total lie. But this is definitely up there.

“We looked it up on this website called Urban Dictionary,” Tessa reported gleefully. “It’s a compliment now!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@the-wckd-powers This fic is like an aftermath to your fic ‘Your Doing Great Out There Without Me, Baby’. I love your writing and it made my cry :) (I know there is a eight hour time difference from LA to England but shhhhh)

@adoravel-fenomeno @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @thechangeling @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @sofiatheskeleton @cncnbr @its-taff @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @maxboythedog @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @jo-herondale

Tèłł mè if you want to bè addèd or rèmovèd from thè tag łist!

#Mari thè werewolf #Maria Santana-Rèèvès #Astrid Yang #kevin chu #Blessica Rèyès #Kit Rook #Kit Herondale #Tessa gray #tessa grey #Jem carastairs #Mina Carstairs #the secrets of blackthorn hall #the wicked powers

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Hero | Luke Patterson

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Song Fic February Week 4: Musicals 

Inspiration: StarStruck (DCOM)

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: Anon suggested doing something with the Starstruck soundtrack, so I’m writing a whole-ass series. This is based off the plot of Starstruck but the reader was a fan of JATP until she met Luke... Basically crush to enemies to lovers! Also a modern!au.

The third installment of the StarStruck series! 

StarStruck

Something About The Sunshine

Hero

What You Mean To Me

Pairing: Luke x Fem!reader

Song(s) used: Hero - Christopher Wilde (StarStruck ST)

Warnings: few swear words, mention of car accidents, mention of child abuse, mention of postnatal depression, tiny bit of angst

Words: 8.6K

I’m almost nervous to see him again. There’s a nervous flutter erupting from the pit of my stomach and I feel hot and sweaty when it’s not even that warm out. The boy didn’t have that effect on me just a day ago and now he suddenly does? I hate this. 

“Morning,” I greet when I find Luke standing outside the coffee shop with his hood pulled far over his head and sunglasses covering his beautiful eyes. He shoots me a smile, but I don’t think he actually looks at me. Right, the whole “I can’t be seen with you”-thing. 

“Want to go grab some coffee before we go?” I ask instead, pointing at the shop. 

Luke nods his head and follows me inside where we wait in line together. The silence that hangs over us is uncomfortable for the first time. I don’t know why but his mysterious, secretive antics are making me nervous. 

“Next!” the barista calls and the two of us step forward. The twenty-something woman shoots the both of us a polite smile, not even acknowledging that Luke’s keeping his head low. This is L.A., she’s probably used to it by now. “What can I get for ya?” 

“An iced vanilla latte for me, please,” I say and then glance down at Luke. 

He coughs. “Iced caramel macchiato.” His voice is low, just above a whisper, as though he’s telling the barista and me a secret. I’m glad we’re going to be out of the city soon, so Luke can go back to his regular self. Or to the singing-on-top-of-a-car-in-the-middle-of-nowhere self. 

“What’s your name, please?” 

“Y/N…” My eyes land on Luke for a split second, and I’m pretty sure he’s not even going to answer. Luke’s a pretty generic name, I’m sure people won’t even bother to look up. “Put my name on both, please.” 

The barista smiles and then dashes off after I paid to start making our coffees while we shuffle towards the end of the counter, ready to take our drinks when they’re ready. Luke keeps his head down. He doesn’t even look up at me and the awkward silence doesn’t eb away.  

“You’re not gonna talk to me yet, are you?” I ask him as I hand him one of the two straws I picked up. He shakes his head. I try my hardest not to groan and instead, hand him the keys to my car. “Here, get yourself settled in my car, I’ll handle this.” 

His eyes peer over the rim of his sunglasses, flickering with uncertainty and gratefulness at the same time. I shoot him a smile, urging him to get out of here, which he does with a quick flash of his teeth. 

The awkwardness quickly washes off me when he’s left the coffee shop and I’m all alone, hoping everything would change once we’re all alone, away from the prying eyes of Los Angeles’ residents. 

“Iced vanilla latte and iced caramel macchiato for y/n,” the barista calls and places the cups on the counter in front of me. 

I smile at her, say, “Thank you! Bye!” and then dart out of the coffee shop as fast as I could. I weave my way through hasty people and slacking tourists towards my Toyota Yaris where a hooded boy sits in my passenger seat. He still has his hood pulled up and his sunglasses balancing on the bridge of his nose. He almost looks sad, which makes me a little sad too. I wish I could do more than let him wait in my car. 

“Here you go,” I say and hand him his coffee when I’ve settled into my seat. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just for the beverage. 

A smile etches its way to my cheeks as I regard him. “You’re welcome,” I say and then start the engine. As I pull out of the parking lot, Luke finally sparks up a conversation. I’m almost relieved to hear his voice again for more than two words.    

“Where’re we going?” he asks. 

I debate telling him but then decide I’d do it anyway. I’ve been researching a lot last night and have found the greatest secluded spots and the time slots when they’re mostly deserted or have the least visitors. The one I wanted to take him to today was a lot closer than the other ones, so I figured we could start with that. 

“The Old L.A. Zoo. It’s less crowded before 9am, so I figured we could go explore it a bit until too many people arrive?” The statement comes out of my mouth as a question since I’m unsure whether or not he’d like that. 

“Cool,” he replies, and he sounds honest, too. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.” 

It surprises me a little, but I go with it anyway. “Really? I’ve been there plenty of times! It’s really cool! Kinda spooky.” Luke lets out an airy laugh at that and it makes my heart flutter a little. 

Within ten minutes, we arrive at the old zoo. Ten minutes had gone by and yet it felt like a split second. The conversation ran fluently on our way there and Luke told me things about the band and his childhood that not even the biggest fangirl on earth could possibly know. I love talking to Luke about those seemingly uninteresting, small things. 

The rest of the morning, too, goes by as if there’s no concept of time whatsoever. The two of us walk through the old, abandoned zoo and explore every single old habitat. I even find a website that tells us the entire history of each section of the zoo and as I read it, Luke listens and adds in his own commentary. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much in just a few  hours. This guy is genuinely funny and I just adore talking to him. Our conversations go from the ridiculous to the serious, and every subject in between. 

It’s just the perfect day that I wish would never end, but inevitably, Luke has his own responsibilities and has to go by lunch time. 

“Hey, why don’t you come with me to the studio?” he asks with a smile as we’re making our way back to the car. “I’m in there all by myself, aside from our producer, and I’m recording a few songs.” 

I open and close my mouth a few times, letting incomprehensible sounds roll out. It makes me look like a dumbfounded fish, I’m sure, but I don’t care. My brain is dysfunctioning for a moment. Luke Patterson is asking me to come to the studio with him. To watch him record some songs. Songs that are going to be on the album. 

Luke’s laugh makes the gears in my brain fall back into place. “Is that a yes?” he asks. 

A heat rises up to my cheeks. “Yeah,” I finally manage. 

“Cool,” he says and then gets into the car. 

The ride to the studio is filled with smooth conversation. We never miss a beat, there’s never an awkward silence between the two of us. Only when we arrive at the recording studio and we’re met with a huddle of paparazzi outside the door.

“Fuck,” he mutters and ducks down. I do the same, knowing he doesn’t want me to be seen with him either. “Drive around back,” he orders before fumbling into the glove compartment of my car. He retrieves a pair of sunglasses I kept there, along with a shawl of my mother’s that I didn’t know was still in there. “Put this on.” 

“No,” I reply sternly, pushing his hand with the shawl away. I do take the sunglasses from his hand though, and push them onto my nose. “Put that shawl away,” I bark. The boy obeys and stuffs the piece of cursed fabric back where it came from. 

Mental note: throw that out. 

When we finally do get into the recording studio, as soon as I’m on Luke’s side, he grabs my hand and drags me into the building before anyone could ever spot us. I nearly stumble on my own feet, but quickly pick myself back up before I faceplant the floor. 

Luke huffs. “Phew, that was close.” 

He looks at me, and for a second, I think he might bring up the shawl again, but he doesn’t and instead turns to his producer, who had gotten up from his swivel chair the second we burst in.  

“Connor!” Luke greets excitedly and shakes the man’s hand. 

He looks near his thirties, strong built with flawless dark skin and a full head of afro hair. Combined with his extremely savvy outfit, I find him really cool-looking. He’s the kind of guy that would get all the girls in high school while still being a sweetheart. 

“You brought some new flesh, I see,” Connor says to me and outstretches his hand for me to shake. I do so with a wide smile on my face while pretending not to be completely nervous about being in a recording studio for the first time. 

“Y/N,” I introduce myself. 

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven on earth, y/n.” My eyes flick to Luke, who’s giving me that look again, so I quickly turn back to Connor. “Any knowledge of recording studios, y/n?” he asks. 

“Never been in one, but my friend is a producer and he did teach me some things.” 

I hear Luke huff beside me. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know.” I shoot him a wink as Connor beckons me towards his deck. For a while, Connor guides me through his paces while Luke gives the best of himself on this song. 

After a few takes, Luke comes out of the booth and joins me and Connor to listen to what we’d recorded thus far. “What if –” I pause, debating my thoughts. “What if we go in with some soft backing vocals on here?” I click the part of the chorus we’d recorded and sing along with recorded Luke. 

“'Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if your the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“I think if you put Julie on those backings, it could give that duet-vibe you guys are so good at.” I notice Connor and Luke glance at each other, soft smiles playing on both their lips. 

“Why don’t you show us?” Connor asks as Luke already grabs my hand. 

“What?! Me? No! Julie.” 

Luke chuckles and drags me into the booth with him. “Yeah, but we’re gonna need a demo, don’t we?” He delicately places a set of headphones on my head before placing one on his own. He signals to Connor and no later than 2 seconds, the instrumental version of the song blasts through the headphones. 

Gazing at me, Luke starts singing the first verse of the song, and I let him. It almost feels like he’s serenading me. Almost. All that’s missing is a guitar or a boombox over his head. 

“I'm no superman I can't take your hand And fly you anywhere you want to go Yeah I can't read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you want to hear But I'll be your hero”

From the chorus onwards, I jump in with backing vocals wherever I feel like it’s acceptable without taking my eyes off of Luke. 

“I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Oh I'll be your hero” “Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Yeah I'll be your hero”

“So incredible Some kind of miracle That's what it's meant to be I'll become a hero So I wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

We keep our eyes locked at the high note too, smiles plastered on our faces from ear to ear. Singing with Luke gives me some kinda rush. A feeling I can’t quite describe but it’s a feeling I want to feel more often. 

“Yeah, I'll be your hero Yeah”

“Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, Yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy with and soul But if you're the one for me I'll be your hero”

“Yeah, I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me”

“Yeah I'll be your hero”

The music fades out in our headphones, and soon, Connor’s applause sounds through it instead. I’m snapped back into reality, away from cloud 9, away from the pure bliss that’s singing with Luke and gazing into his eyes. 

“That was amazing! Good job, guys!” Connor says, beaming. 

Luke and I remove our headphones and he grabs my hand to lead me back to the decks where Connor welcomes us with open arms and a wide smile. 

“I thought you and Julie were the most watchable duetters, but I’ve been proven wrong.” 

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks before Luke snaps me out of it again. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Con. Can you send the finished product to the band and our manager? I’m sure they’d like to hear this. Don’t tell them who’s on backing vocals, though. They don’t need to know that.”

I swallow a lump in my throat and try to convince myself it’s probably not that deep. Luke doesn’t want to be seen with me. Not even by his band mates. It’s fine. It’s totally fine. 

We wrap up the recording session and I drive Luke back to the coffee shop where he looks behind him and out of every single one of the windows, just to be sure the coast is clear of paparazzi. 

“Thanks for the day, y/n. I really enjoyed spending time with you again.” 

I force a smile. Ever since his statement to Connor about not wanting the band to know about me, I’ve been going over everything in my mind and it has caused me to fold in on myself.

“Yeah, it was fun.” 

He gazes at me for a moment, inspecting every inch of my face as if detecting the lie from my eyes. When I think he’s just going to bid his goodbyes and get out, he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his body to me and reaches for his phone. I watch as he unlocks it and taps away on it before turning the device towards me. There’s a new contact form open on his screen. 

“Gimme your number. I’d love to do this again some day.” 

I furrow my brow while taking the phone in my hands. “Do you even have time to spend days with a nobody like me?” I don’t dare look at him and keep my eyes on the screen as I type my name and number. 

He doesn’t say anything either until I finally cave and look up when giving his phone back. There’s a crease in his forehead as his eyebrows are knitted together in confusion. 

“You’re not a nobody, y/n. I’d gladly make time for you. I told you, I loved spending days away from reality. Especially with you.” Fangirl Me is jumping out of my skin while Present Me tries to keep her cool and ignore all of the butterflies that erupt in her stomach. 

“Cool,” Present Me says out loud while Fangirl Me is scolding her so hard. 

Cool? Cool?! Seriously? Dude.   

“I’ll text you, yeah?” 

I nod my head in response and watch as he gets out of my car. Before I can even place my foot on the gas or shift out of park, my phone beeps in the pocket of my sweater. For the first time in forever, I smile when seeing an unknown number on my screen. 

As I look out of my window, I find Luke looking at me with his hood pulled over his head again. He shoots me a quick smile and a wave before I turn to my phone again and type a reply. 

I whip my head up to see his reaction. His jaw drops before his face turns into a scowl as he glares at me. Giggling and satisfied with the reaction, I place my phone on the passenger’s seat where Luke was sitting before and then pull out of the parking spot. 

That night, I save Luke’s number to my phone. I go between “Luke P.”, “Patterson” and “Luke ❤️” but eventually decide on the funnier option and save him as “Poo Musician 💩”.   

I stand in line at the coffee shop before 8:30 that morning and I’m a little nervous. Last night when I returned from my day with Luke, the two of us had been texting back and forth. I felt like a sixteen year old again. One of those giggly teenagers that’s texting their crush. Which is what I was, but it’s been a while since I felt like it. 

Once I have an iced vanilla latte and an iced caramel macchiato, I head outside where I find a boy waiting by my car. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt paired with a bright blue sleeveless sweater, his hood pulled far over his head so his face is hidden from prying eyes. 

I don’t need to see his face to know it’s Luke. I’d recognize those muscles from a mile away. The way he’s leaning against the hood of my car and the way he’s holding his phone is a dead giveaway too. 

“Your coffee, sir,” I say in a serious, deep voice. 

Luke’s head snaps up, eyes wide. He looks like a deer caught in headlights until he notices it’s just me and relaxes. A smile etches onto his face as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans whilst taking the coffee I ordered for him with his other hand. 

He takes a cautious sip from the beverage. “Hm, Caramel Macchiato, someone’s been stalking me.” I know he’s just teasing, I can tell by the way one corner of his mouth curls up and his eyes have that childlike glint in them. 

Making my way to the driver’s side of my car, I smile and say, “Contrary to popular belief, Patterson, I’m not a stalker. I just remembered your order from yesterday.” 

Luke’s smile tells me something I’d rather not think about. It’s like he’s saying “You remembered my order” in that flirty way only he knows how to. I simply shrug before opening my door and getting in with Luke following my example. Without missing a beat, he fishes my phone from between my fingers and grabs my free hand to use my thumb to unlock my phone. This time, I don’t object and let him. I know that it’s just to get to my music app anyway. 

While Journey’s Anyway You Want It plays through the car’s speakers, I pull out of the parking spot in front of the coffee shop and start driving to the next location I’d found during my research the other night. 

“Where’re we going?” he asks, and I flashback to yesterday when he asked me the exact same question in that exact same way. 

I smile as I place my cup in the cupholder between the two of us. “You’ll see.” I glance over, finding him tilting his head slightly and giving me that ‘Really?’ look. “I promise it’s very secluded and not a lot of people will be there.” 

“Cool,” he says and sips. “Is this where you’re going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom? I bet you could get a lot of money for a Julie and The Phantoms band member.” 

I snort at his remark. “How much do you think I could get for you?” 

He scrunches up his nose in thought, which I catch as I take a quick glance at him again. As I face the road again, I reach for my coffee and take a quick sip, awaiting Luke’s response to my question. 

“Like 10k?” 

I nearly spit out my coffee. “10k?!” I screech, and his laugh thunders through my car. “Careful or I’ll actually kidnap you and hold you for ransom if I’m gonna earn that much.” 

The laughter dies down and after a few moments of silence lingering in the air, Luke says, “How much do you think I’m worth?” 

Without missing a beat, I respond to his question, dead serious. “Not even a dollar.”  

Luke gasps, his mouth dropping in absolute disbelief while I can’t help but cackle loudly. Judging from this conversation alone, I’m positive today will be a good day. A good, fun day. 

“I’m worth more than a dollar, right?” 

“No, you’re right, I’d probably ask like a million and then no one will pay the ransom and you’ll have to stay with me for the rest of your life.” 

I let out my best maniacal laughter as I feel him watch me. I know the exact look he’s giving me. The look. The one with the glistening eyes and the slightly turned up lips. The one all girls and gays swoon for. The one I would swoon for if I’d turn my head right now. But I don’t. For once in my life, I’m smart and keep my eyes on the road. 

“You like me,” he states proudly. 

“Slightly less strong dislike.” I’m lying through my teeth, but I’m hoping Luke won’t notice. Or at least not acknowledge it because I can already feel the heat rising to my cheeks. 

“I’ll take it.” 

He reaches forward and turns the volume up as Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” floats through the speakers. Very loudly, and very obnoxiously, the boy begins to sing along. If it wasn’t for the velvet smooth voice, I would’ve scolded at him to keep it down. But the sound actually makes my toes curl and my stomach flutter. For a verse, I let him sing by himself while I enjoy his performance but by the chorus, I can’t withhold myself and sing along with him. 

The rest of the ride is filled with belting of the road trip tunes, laced with patches of small talk. It’s the perfect car ride, and before we know it, we’ve arrived at our destination. Santa Fe Dam Recreation Area. The parking lot is practically empty, aside from two cars, which I’m assuming are the staff’s. It’s the perfect indication that I picked the right spot to go to, and I can tell Luke knows it too. 

He’s bouncing in his seat, either from excitement or the amount of sugar that was in his iced coffee, and when I turn off the ignition and turn to him, he looks at me with the widest smile plastered on his face. He almost looks like an excited toddler on Christmas morning, ready to open his presents. 

“I came here once with my parents when I was younger,” he tells me, “I love this place.” 

His confession makes me smile. “Good because I’ve been scouring the internet for the perfect place.” He shoots me the look again. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re going to kiss me.” 

He shrugs, “Maybe I want to.” 

“So you want me to slap you?” 

His smile fades away immediately. “Let’s go,” he grumbles and quickly gets out. 

I heave in a deep breath, recollecting myself before getting out too and retrieving the backpack I brought, filled with stuff for today. Including my itinerary – or just a notebook filled with some ideas I had. 

“How about we start with a bike ride across the park?” I suggest, pointing at the bike rental shop I found on Google the other night. 

We walk into the rental place, expecting there to be bikes upon bikes but instead, we’re met with kayaks, pedal boats and go-karts. My eyebrows furrow, creasing my forehead as I look around the space. Why’s this called a bike rental when there are technically no bikes to rent? No actual bikes. 

“I thought we were going for a bike ride?” Luke says, teasingly. I look up at him, and I think my face tells him enough about my knowledge about this place. My research clearly wasn’t sufficient. 

Deciding to just roll with the circumstances, I roll my shoulders back and put a smile on my face. “Yeah, we’re going on a bike ride with one of these!” I say and point to the large, green go-kart. One of those that look like an old-school car at the front and have children’s seats in front of the terribly cushioned seats for adults. The ones with the small plastic wheel and bike pedals for two adults. I remember going on one of those big ones for six people with my family. 

“You’re serious?” Luke asks, his eyes wide. 

Instead of answering, I shoot him a smile before stepping forwards towards the staff member at the counter. The woman behind the counter looks no older than 45 and has long, billowing blonde locks that cascade down her shoulders. Her bright blue piercing eyes glisten as they land on the two of us, clearly glad she sees some customers so early in the day. 

“Good morning,” she greets with a smile, “We open in half an hour.” 

“Oh…” My research has been poor. 

Before I can possibly think of an answer, Luke steps forward and flashes the woman a smile. I’m not sure if he’s going to use his manly charms or if he’s going to pull the “Don’t you know who I am?” card. 

“Can’t you… make an exception for us?” he asks, leaning his elbow on the counter as he looks at the woman through his lashes. The woman looks up at Luke, her face like stone. She doesn’t recognize him and doesn’t fall for his charms either. 

Shaking my head, I spring into action. I quickly change the ring on my index finger to my ring finger and wrap my arm around Luke’s bicep while the other rests on his chest, making sure the ring is as visible as can be. As I flutter my eyelashes at the woman, I let the words tumble out of my mouth. 

“Please, ma’am? It’s our one year engagement anniversary and he was going to take me on this romantic bike ride….” I then lean forward over the counter. “He’s not very good at researching our dates, but he tries.” 

The woman’s eyebrows knit together as her eyes dart from me to Luke and back. 

“Aren’t you guys a little young to be engaged?” 

Luke jumps into the improvisation spot. “We’ve been told that a lot but we’ve been best friends for years and there’s no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” He looks down at me and when I glance up, too, he kisses the tip of my nose, which I then scrunch. 

I ignore the flutters in my stomach and face the woman again. She seems to have softened, her eyes less icy than it was before. Then, she turns to her computer and clicks through a few browsers before facing us again. 

“What do you guys want? The Surrey?” She points to the green bike-thing at the front of the shop. I nod my head in response. “Okay. You’ve got it for two hours for the price of one hour.” 

A smile etches its way to my face. “That’s perfect, thank you.” 

 Luke pays the woman the rental fee and then she helps us get Surrey out of the garage. After bidding our goodbyes, Luke and I pedal off on the bike. 

“One year engagement, really?” Luke asks me when we’re far enough from the rental and I switch my rings back around. 

“Well, whatever you were doing didn’t work.” 

 He scoffs. “It was working.” 

We pedal down the winding road with the wind blowing through our hair. I love how warm the breeze is and how the birds are chirping in the trees around us. This is the perfect day to go out and do this. 

“What exactly were you planning to do?” I ask him, glancing up at him. He’s focusing on the road ahead of us, a comfortable smile resting on his lips while his eyes flick from one side to another, taking everything in. 

He glances down at me, the smile turning into a smirk. “I was going to charm her with my manly wiles.” 

“And how was that working for ya?” 

For a second, we lock eyes. Luke has an annoyed look on his face while I can’t help but have my lips curl up on one side into a smirk. When he whips his head forward again, I notice the slight tint of pink covering his cheeks. 

Did I just make Luke Patterson blush? 

“So,” he coughs. “Whatcha wanna do?”

I shrug. “We could play twenty questions? Get to know each other better.” 

He nods his head in response. “You wanna start?” 

“That’s your first question?” 

“That’s yours?” 

I press my lips together, shutting myself up for just a moment before recomposing myself. I’m not going to lie, I totally Googled some questions to ask in a game of 20 questions. So, I’m prepared. 

“If you had to be trapped on a deserted island with one of your friends, who would you pick and why?” Luke’s eyes widen at the question a little. 

“Woah, straight in! I thought you were gonna start with ‘favorite color’ or something.” He chuckles lightly, and so do I. “Uhm… Not Alex, he’d probably be super anxious and pace all the way across the island and make me nervous. Not Reggie either, he’d be singing country songs the entire time, though he is a great cuddler. Maybe Julie? Though she’s gonna be miserable without Flynn….” 

With every thought he says out loud, my smile grows bigger and bigger. 

“You?” My heart leaps in my chest at his answer. “Yeah, I like spending time with you and what better place to get away from real life than a deserted island, right?” 

Without missing a beat, the next words pour out of my mouth. “It’s cute how you think we’re friends now.” I surprise myself with the words I speak. We are friends, but I like winding him up into thinking we’re not. 

“Friends who wanna kiss each other.” 

Ignoring the heat rising to my cheeks, I reply, “You mean kill?” 

Luke shakes his head, an amused smile on his face. “When are you going to admit that you like me?” 

“Never – Next question.” 

“Uhm… What was the last thing you stole or shoplifted?” he asks and I’m glad he doesn’t push any further on the fact I basically admitted that I like him. 

“Oh! A magnet in a tourist shop in Lanzarote,” I reply, giggling a little at the memory. “I was there with a couple of friends during Spring Break and those magnets cost way too much for what they are and there was like a rack outside the shop. So, I shoplifted an overpriced Lanzarote magnet.” 

Luke throws his head back as he laughs, nearly steering us into the bushes. “That’s amazing,” he cackles.  

We cruise through the entire park for two entire hours, asking each other questions, and after returning the Surrey, we walk towards the lake where we settle down onto the blanket I brought for some food. I’d prepared an entire picnic basket for us to enjoy during our lunch. 

“I find it very cute that you made an entire picnic basket for our first date.” 

I smile. “I find it very cute that you think this is a date.” 

He gives me the look again, but I ignore it and get every piece of food out of my backpack, sprawling it out around us. Sandwiches, chopped up vegetables and fruits, muffins,... All the delicious foods you’d find in a picnic. 

“Tell me more about your childhood,” Luke then says as he takes a chicken sandwich and takes a bite. “You don’t talk about it much.” 

My heart drops into my stomach. I wish he wouldn’t ask about that. Talking about my childhood means talking about my mother and I’ve been trying to avoid that for the past years. Not that many of my friends even know about that. 

“I told you plenty.” 

“You talked about your teenage years, but never about your childhood.” 

I take a deep breath. He’s not going to shut up about this until I tell him. It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just that I don’t love talking about what happened with my mother. It’s something I’d much rather forget. 

“There’s a reason for that,” I reply pointedly and then shut myself up by taking a sip from the box of orange juice. I’d packed one for the both of us, but I’m the only one who’s opened it already as Luke had gone straight in with the sandwiches. 

Luke stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. His eyes pierce through my soul and give me a sense of comfort. They lift a weight of my shoulders and chest that I hadn’t even noticed were there. His eyes feel like coming home. Comfortable. A place to relax. A place to be me, be myself. 

I heave in a deep breath and place my juice box on my nervously bouncing knee, holding it with my hand. It doesn’t stop the bouncing, so now my whole body is practically shaking along with the movement. 

“I–” I stop myself, reconsidering my words. “My childhood wasn’t the sunshine and roses it’s supposed to be.” I chuckle nervously and when I meet Luke’s eyes again, they’re looking at me with such intent that I almost launch forward and kiss him. But I don’t. 

“Mom was… difficult to live with…” I start cautiously,  not even daring to look at Luke as I speak and keep my eyes on the still lake in front of us. “She uhm… After I was born, she kinda went into postnatal depression. She didn’t take care of me, she barely even looked at me… At one point, it went so far that she got into an accident, on purpose, with me in the back. She did it a few times, even, to the point where dad just had to report it. She was admitted to the psych ward and that was that... I was ten at the time.” I swallow to hold back the tears that are pricking behind my eyes. 

Feeling a soft brush of the hand on my knee, I glance up, meeting Luke’s eyes. They give me that sense of comfort again, that sense of home, the reassurance that I’m okay. 

“We haven’t really seen her since. She’s out of our lives…” I sniffle and place my hand over Luke’s, giving it a thankful squeeze. “I don’t like talking about it.” 

Luke carefully laces his fingers through mine, his cold rings cooling my warm hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” I shrug dismissively. “But thank you for telling me.” 

“So, tell me,” I lift our entwined hands for a second as though pulling us back into reality. “How did Sunset Curve-slash-Julie and The Phantoms came to be?” 

Luke chuckles before engulfing our locked hands with his other and tumbling into the origin story of the bands he was in. He talks about meeting Reggie and Alex in primary school, and then meeting Bobby in middle school. He explains how they started the band in music class and then continued playing together until Bobby moved away from Los Angeles. The story then lapses into giggles and chuckles about all the things they tried to keep Sunset Curve alive, but terribly failed. 

“But then we met Julie in high school and – the rest is history.” 

We’re clearing up our mess before making our way back towards the car. I love hearing Luke talk, especially about the band. It makes his eyes light up and he gets all bouncy and enthusiastic. It’s the cutest side of Luke I ever did see in the past few days of hanging out with  him.

I take one last look at the lake where tiny dots of humans are floating along on the lake in their tiny boats. There are just a few, so nothing to worry about, but it does make me want to go kayaking too. Mostly because I don’t want the day to end. 

“Wanna go kayaking?” I ask Luke, pulling him to a halt by tugging at our still intertwined hands. His eyes dart from mine to the lake and back. I can tell he’s debating it, but then he nods and a smile appears on his face. 

With our hands intertwined, we go back to the rental place and ask the woman for a double kayak. We pay, put on the safety vests she’s given us and then proceed onto the water. As we pedal along, Luke tells me about all the adventures he’s been on with his friends and how he used to do this all the time before his schedule got so crazy. 

Every now and again, he stops and pretends to tip the kayak, making me squeal each and every time whilst he laughs his most maniacal laugh. 

The wall I’d built around my heart was slowly crumbling. Every laugh, every touch, every glance took away a small part of the brick wall. I’m falling in love with the boy I’d had a crush on and then strongly disliked for a good five-ish days. 

Getting distracted was not a good idea as I’m not prepared for what follows next. Luke pretends to tip it over again, but this time, he wobbles too hard and actually makes the boat topple overhead. I squeal, but quickly shut my mouth as I tumble into the water, making sure not too much of the lake’s contents gets into my body. 

“Patterson!” I scowl as I crash the surface again and find Luke laughing a few feet away. His brown, shaggy hair sticks to his head, dripping small drops of water onto his face. If I wasn’t so angry at him, I would definitely kiss him right here, right now. 

“I hate you!” I splash some water at him as the words roll off my lips. Luke’s laughter abruptly stops and he stares at me. His once glistening eyes dull down while his mouth falters into a frown. 

“You do?” 

My face softens as I watch him. He looks so beautiful with his hair all dishevelled and the reflection of the sun on the water mirroring onto his face. I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him so bad. 

I swim closer towards him and stroke his wet hair out of his face. My breath hitches in my throat at how close we are but I try to play it off by keeping my hands on his face and my eyes locked with his. I notice his eyes flicking down to my lips a few times, telling me he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him. 

Should I? Full throttle? Or step on the brakes? 

I don’t even get the time to think about it as Luke presses his lips to mine. Now I don’t hesitate a single moment and immediately kiss him back. Sliding my hands into his wet locks and pressing my body as close as I can, I melt entirely into him. The same sense of bliss I have when singing with Luke washes over me and I find myself on cloud 9 again.  

We pull back after a moment to catch our breath. The glint in his eyes is back and his mouth, though a little swollen and red, curls up into a smile. He presses one more kiss to my nose before helping me towards the shore. We climb out of the water and bring the boat back to the rental place, along with our safety vests. 

Grabbing my backpack I had left with the woman for safekeeping, Luke and I bid our goodbyes and leave the rental, intertwining our hands again. The feeling his hand in mine gives me will never get old. 

As we get to the car again, I yawn, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Luke smiles upon noticing this and takes the keys from my hand. Wordlessly, he presses a kiss to my forehead and then leads me to the passenger side. He opens the door and lets me get in before shutting the door and jogging to the other side. 

The car is filled with a comfortable silence, just the crackling of a song playing on the radio filling out the quietness. I rest my head against the headrest and glance at Luke every now and again as he drives Sabrina. He has that one-hand feel on the steering wheel and the other rest comfortably in mine on the gearshift. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” I mumble, unable to speak any louder. 

A smile etches its way to Luke’s face. “Me too.” He takes a quick glance at me and then lifts our hands to plant a kiss on my knuckles. “Our band’s house is closer, you want to stop there and get us dry before you go home?” 

I hum softly, letting my eyes fall shut for a moment. Luke’s thumb grazing the back of my hand almost lulls me to sleep until he curses before the car comes to a halt. He pulls his hand away from mine and when I look up, the driveway and street in front of the enormous white-brick house is filled with dozens of cars. 

“Fuck, I forgot about the album wrap party,” he grumbles and then looks over at me. I’m shivering from the cold and exhaustion. “I can’t let you drive home like that.” 

I’m unsure if he’s talking to me or pondering out loud, but I shake my head instead. “It’s fine,” I say. “My house isn’t that far away… I think…” 

“No, y/n. I’m not letting you drive home exhausted and cold.” His voice is stern, yet laced with a bit of worry. “You’re gonna come in and I’m– I’m gonna bring you up to my room. You can dry off there and maybe take a nap or something. Yeah! Yeah, that’s it!” He sounds way too excited about something so banal. 

He hops out of the car and quickly jogs over to my side whilst I’m already opening the door. Before I could react, he tugs me towards the house. I can barely get my bearings or take the time to look where I’m going before I’m pulled into a room. 

“There are shirts and joggers in the dresser over there, pick out whichever you like and then take a nap or something. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kisses my cheek and then dashes towards the door. 

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” 

He lets go of the door handle and slowly turns towards me. His eyes are laced with regret as he takes in the sight in front of him. I must look ridiculous with my hair and clothes wet and bags under my eyes. 

“Please, y/n? I can’t have people know about us, okay? I just – can’t…” 

Turning on his heel, he opens the door and leaves me in his bedroom all alone. I take a minute to let the information process in my brain before turning around and taking in the room I’m in. 

The walls are painted white, except for the one wall behind his bed that’s a muted dark blue. His bed is king size and on either side is a nightstand. I inch closer to the one that’s actually filled with stuff, which I’m assuming is the one he uses most. Nightstand contents often tell a lot about a person. His contains the band’s autobiography, “Bruce Springsteen: All The Songs” and “Beach Read” by Emily Henry, the book I started the other week and shared on Instagram Stories. 

Would he have seen that and decided to read it too? 

Shaking the ridiculous thought out of my head, I move over to his dresser and take out a pair of joggers and his Rush muscle tank I’ve seen him in many a time during gigs. I peel my drenched clothes off my body and get into Luke’s freshly washed ones. They smell of his laundry products. It’s a fresh and calming scent.

For a while, I look around his room. The books on the shelves and the pictures on the walls, most of which of the band and some of him and Carrie Wilson. There had been a rumor about him dating the Instagram Influencer, but I’d never believed it until I saw her face pop up in some of the framed photos in his room. 

I decide to go and venture about the house since all the commotion seems to be outside in the garden. I weave through hallway upon hallway, finding more photos and more things that belong to the band. The living room walls are adorned with platinum records and other awards they’d won over the two years they’d been active in the music industry. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride rush over me. That’s my favorite band right there. That’s the boy I’ve fallen in love with. 

“Excuse me – Who are you?” 

The voice makes me jump out of my skin. I thought everyone was outside. When I look up, I find the perfectly flawless face of Carrie Wilson. Her long, blonde hair cascades into curls down her shoulders and back while her round, brown eyes stare at me with intent and curiosity. 

“Oh, sorry. I’m y/n. I–” I stop myself, remembering Luke didn’t want anyone to know about us. That includes his girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend. 

Carrie’s mouth curls up into an amused, curious smile, catching onto what’s happening. “You’re Luke’s new adventure, aren’t you?” I huff out the breath I was holding. It’s a telling huff, I’m sure. “You are…” She trails off and inspects me for a second before continuing. “Just so you know, it’s not going to work. Luke’s too infatuated with this lifestyle of his. He loves his job, he loves his stardom. He loves it too much to ever focus on a partner. Believe me, we tried.” 

I exhale at the use of her past tense, but then all the other information downs on me. Luke’s life is so much different from mine. While I work several jobs to pay for college and still live with my dad, he lives by himself and tours the world. He’s too busy to start anything serious with me. Whatever happened in the last few days was just temporary. 

“You seem sweet, y/n, so I’m going to be frank. Get out before it’s too late. You’re only gonna get hurt if you’re gonna stay.” As she passes me, she places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  

If my brain wasn’t going a mile a second about everything she’s telling me, I would be caught off guard by how sweet Carrie Wilson is. She’s always portrayed as this complete ego-centric bitch who used people to her advantage. 

The exhaustion taking over, I shuffle back upstairs and sit down on Luke’s bed but when I hear the commotion outside die down and guitar strums float through the air into the house, I grow curious. I get up from the bed and make a beeline towards the ceiling-to-floor glass doors that give out onto a balcony. I carefully open the door and step out, the summer breeze tickling my skin while Luke’s voice reaches my ears. 

The balcony looks out onto the garden, it’s just out of sight from where everyone’s huddled up around the band. I lean my elbows on the bannister and watch on as Luke’s voice floated through the air. 

“I'm no superman I can take your hand And fly you anywhere you wanna go, yeah I can read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you wanna hear, but I'll be your hero”

I smile at the memory of us in the studio yesterday. The last few days have been perfect. Just… Perfect. And now this girl has to come and ruin it by pulling me back into reality. 

“Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be a hero Oh, I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero”

It’s not that Carrie isn’t right. She is. Luke is way too busy with the band and his fame and everything around it. He doesn’t have time or room between those things for me. Not for an ordinary girl. Not for anyone. 

“So incredible Some kinda miracle That when it's meant to be, I'll become a hero, oh So I'll wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

Luke’s eyes meet mine as he hits that high note and his mouth curls up into that beautiful smile I’ve come to love. Once again, I’ve fallen in love with someone who would never reciprocate those feelings. If I don’t get out now, I’m going to get hurt. 

“Yeah I'll be a hero Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me I'll be a hero Yeah, yeah I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero Hero”

As the last notes of his song ring out into the night, I grab my still wet clothes and my keys Luke left on the dresser, and then leave the house. My heart breaks with every step I take, but I know it’s what’s best for me. It’s what’s best for both of us. There’s no room for me in his life. Like he said, he’s no superman, he can’t handle this many things at once. Not even a hero would be able to.  

Everything taglist:

@wanniiieeee @phantompogues 

JATP taglist:

@hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @charliesmountains @thedarkqueenofavalon @calamitykaty��@caitsymichelle13 @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti @stellasmusa @n0wornever @kaitieskidmore1 @tefilovesreading @pxperphxntom @crybabyddl @crybabyddl @headheartbellarke @authentic-gillespie @happinessinthedarkesttimes @bright-molina @rangerelik @cordeliascrown @willex-owns-my-heart @fangirlangioma @frickin-bats @flower-name @jaskiers-sweetkiss @jandthephantoms @kelpwithawhy  @the-hufflepuff-hunter @lookingthroughmirrors @buckybarnesishot310 @echocharm17618 @littlemissaddict @mystic-writings @joynerxmercer @brooke0297 @magicalxdaydream @musicianspiritsblog @bexxy @ruvaitkevicius @whitetigerlover17 @stressyanddepressysimp  @talk-on-the-street @theolivekiddo @sunsetcurvej @teti-menchon0604 @candycornmgg @gray_jato

Charlie/Luke taglist: 

@lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @lolychu​ @perfectlywrongformend3s​ @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​ @rachmmb​ @whitemanshoe19​ @killerqueenfan​ 

TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST 

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatpsongficfeb #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson fic #luke jatp #luke patterson x fem!reader #modern!au #StarStruck

[fckinsupreme]

Hello hi ! Can you do a Dady baby Jim mason ? Like the reader have a baby with Jim but they’re not together and y/n had a new boyfriend, and Jim comes to take the baby to spend the weekend but when y/n’a boyfriend go to work , Jim fucked y/n in the shower please 🥺 I love ur fic btw!

You’d met Jim Mason at a wild party on the beach, almost two years ago. That is where the whole mess began, really—you’d both been really drunk, you were both insanely attracted to one another, and you both acted on that attraction. A couple months later, you found out that you were pregnant. You told Jim, of course, who was shocked but also supportive of your decision to keep the baby. The two of you decided not to have an actual relationship, but he was still in your life because of the baby. He went to all the appointments, was there for the first kick, and was even by your side when the baby was born. You gave birth to a darling baby boy, whom you named Christopher, and who was the apple of Jim’s eye.

But that bliss was short lived as soon as you got a new boyfriend.

Jim was crushed, and visibly upset when he discovered the news. It was a few months after Christopher’s birth, and Jim thought that was too soon to be dating someone. But after a minor argument about it, Jim came around and everything was fine between the two of you again. He still didn’t like the circumstances, but he had come around to the situation at hand much more easily. And while you did have someone else in your life now, there was still the matter of Jim and how attracted you still were to him—and, unbeknownst to you, how he felt the same.

Then came a weekend when Jim was supposed to have the baby, and he showed up on time as usual. As always, your boyfriend was at work at the time, and you were home alone. Christopher was with your family at the moment, and you hadn’t a clue when he would be brought back, but you still invited Jim inside and told him to make himself at home while you waited.

“Is Big, Tall, and Stupid at work?” Jim asks, a smirk on his lips that soon dies when he sees the glare you throw at him. “Sorry. I just don’t like that guy.”

“You’ve made it very clear,” you tell him. “But you could still try to be a little nicer.”

“I can’t help it,” Jim says with a deep sigh, rubbing his face. “I just…”

“Just what?” you ask gently. “You can tell me anything, Jimmy. You know that.”

His full attention is on you at the sound of his nickname, and he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I just…I don’t know. I wish it could have been…you and me.”

You look down at the ground. “Jimmy, you know what happened with us was just—“

“Drunk sex?” Jim asks, and his tone carries a bit of anger with it. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Y/N. We had a child from that night, and you know our feelings run much deeper than just fucking lust.”

You keep your eyes on the floor, too scared and ashamed to look up at him. “Of course it wasn’t just drunk sex,” you say. “I’m sorry I said that. I just…It’s been so long since that’s happened. We have both moved on—“

“No, /you/ moved on,” Jim says bitterly. “With some joker who doesn’t love you, or /our/ son. But I do, Y/N; I love you both more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone before.”

You’re silent for a long time, trying to process everything he is telling you. Of course you loved him, too; you always had. But it wasn’t as simple anymore, because you had a boyfriend to consider. Even if you did not love him as you loved Jim, he was still someone with feelings. Even still, a life of potential happiness with Jim was better than one of potential misery with the other man, and you knew it.

“I love you, too,” you say, and have to repeat yourself a bit louder as he gestures that he did not hear. “I love you, too! I always have, for as far back as I can remember. But—“

“No,” Jim says. “No buts, Y/N.”

“Yes,” you say, tears in your eyes. “I love you, but we can’t be together. I have another man to think about now. I have a son to consider. I can’t…”

“But you can,” Jim insists as he takes your hand. His face falls as you jerk out of his touch, and he looks to the ground. “I’m Christopher’s father, not that asshole. You love /me/, not him. Why the fuck can’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, sniffling as tears fall down your cheeks. “I’m gonna take a shower. I can’t…I need time alone to think.”

Before Jim has a chance to protest, you rush into the bathroom and close the door. You exhale shakily, taking a moment before starting the shower. As you strip down and step in, your mind turning and heart still breaking, you didn’t notice that you forgot to lock the door behind you. It’s something you came to realize, though, when the door opened as you put the shampoo in your hair. You didn’t hear it open, but as you rinsed, the curtain parted and Jim’s nude form joined you. You didn’t have the energy, nor the desire to be angry or make him leave; you wanted him there. God help it, but you /needed him there/.

“Hey…” Jim says as he holds you, breathing in relief as you embrace him in return. “I’m sorry for everything…”

“Shhh, don’t,” you whisper, rocking against him before looking up into his clear blue eyes. “Don’t be sorry. /I’m/ the one who is sorry, because I really love you, too. I’m sorry for what I said earlier—“

“Shhh, don’t talk,” he begs, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was innocent at first, then grew harder within only a few minutes.

You do as he says, but mostly because his kisses—so familiar, so wonderful, so /right/—have left you speechless. You missed this, more than you would probably ever care to admit. You kiss him just as fiercely, as desperately, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. He holds you so that you don’t slip and fall, his strong arms keeping you in an embrace as your bodies press tightly together. Your eyes close even more tightly, your hands roaming over his body as you soak in every bit of him you can. Jim…/your/ Jim, even if he was never officially yours. You always belonged to him, just as he belonged to you, and that is how it always had been.

“I want you so fucking badly right now, Y/N,” Jim breathes as his lips trail down your neck, not stopping until they reach your breasts. “I want you more than I’ve ever fucking wanted anyone.”

“Take me, then,” you whimper, fisting his wet hair with a whine. “Fucking take me.”

Jim doesn’t need to be asked twice, nor does he ask about your boyfriend. In truth, you didn’t give a fuck about him at this point; you just needed Jim. He pushes inside of you after pinning you to the shower wall, both of you gasping as he fully seats himself. He doesn’t thrust yet, instead locking his eyes into yours and soaking in the intimacy, the closeness, of it all. You can’t believe you’re doing this, but there is part of you that /can/ believe it. After all, this is what you ached for after all this time.

“Y/N,” he says as he begins to thrust, his movements steady yet quick, his eyes still on yours. You inhale sharply, head against the wall as your half-lidded eyes gaze at him. “Be mine. Let’s just make it official and stop kidding ourselves. We want each other; let’s just do it and raise our son together, as it should have been from the start. Please…”

There was nothing for you to do in that moment but smile. All of the bliss you felt, all of the ecstasy that coursed through your body at his touch, quieted you. But you hoped that smile was answer enough, and you cling to him in a hot, heated kiss as he makes love to you beneath that warm spray of water.

———————

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @wroteclassicaly @melodylangdon @dark-mei-rose @lovelylangdonx @xavierplymptons @angelicmichael @bloodcoatedeclipse

#I’m sorry this turned out so badly!! #jim mason #jim mason blurb #jim mason imagine #jim mason x reader

[charming-charlie]

Washed Away pt. 2

Title // Washed Away pt. 2

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Implied mentions of drowning, anxiety, and fear of dying.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 1.7k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is Part 2 of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 3

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog @coffeewithoutcaffeine​ @daddysfavoritesexkitten​ // Drop a note if you want to join the tagged list!

The enormous tidal wave was barreling to land. You could only watch in horror. Your legs refused to move. For a second, you thought for sure that the wave wasn’t going to hit you. It was an over exaggeration or something. It was one of those things that looked big from far way but small when it got close, right?

Unfortunately, you couldn’t be more wrong.

Buck grabbed Christopher and tossed the little boy over his shoulder, abandoning his crutches and the large brown bear he won at the water gun game. With his free hand, Buck grabbed yours and the two of you sprinted fast and hard down the wooden boardwalk.

Buck was yelling at other people to run, move out of the way, find shelter. Your voice refused to say anything. You couldn’t think of anything.

‘Incoming flood let’s go!” someone shouted. Was it Buck? Was it a police officer? You couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening. Your hand gripped Buck’s tightly, refusing to let go for any reason as the two of you tried to seek out higher ground. Christopher was pulling the two of you behind, which wasn’t his fault, but you were running out of time.

Buck found an abandoned game in the center of the pier where people were running pass called Baseball Toss. It was essentially an open wooden box, reminding you of a small boxing ring. It had tall walls which might work for now. You couldn’t be sure.

Buck set Christopher inside the game behind the wall and turned back to the giant wave that was now blocking out the sun and inching closer to land by the second. He was leaning against you, his breath heavy and ragged, his eyes wide with fear and worry. You clung to him for your own safety, but also to let Buck know that you were there with him, and together you two will face whatever was coming.

The water broke through, crashing against the pier and exploding between buildings and windows, taking up whatever space it could find. Buck’s hand held yours even tighter as he turned to look at you.

“Get in!” he said quickly. He helped you over the wooden wall of Baseball Toss and you cowered down next to Christopher. Buck jumped in after you just as the water reached your little shelter, splashing and blasting over the three of you.

You closed your eyes and reached out to Buck, who accepted your hand within seconds. His other arm was blocking Christopher, trying to keep the boy as safe as possible. Despite the raging water above you, the world seemed quiet and still. You didn’t dare open your eyes for any reason and you refused to let go of Buck.

It didn’t work.

The water was powerful and was able to break through the wooden barrier, crashing into you, Buck, and Christopher. Buck’s hand disappeared from yours, and you were sloshed, rattled, tossed, and spun in every direction as the tsunami rolled in. You felt like an out of control ragdoll with only a few threads keeping you together. You scrambled and fought against the current, trying to reach the surface.

Was there a surface? Was there a break in the waves?

Your breath was knocked out as you were thrown about in the water and you struggled to breathe. Every time you tried, salty seawater was pulled in. You were drowning.

You swam somewhere. You couldn’t see under the rough current and the water moving fast but you were able to find something, what was it? A telephone pole? Whatever it was, it was tall enough to hang onto and climb. Using your last few precious breaths, you did just that.

You climbed and climbed until every single limb was begging for a break, aching with hot and sore muscles all over.

The water was rolling below you. You looked around in sheer panic, hoping to see someone, anyone, that was able to survive. Where was Buck? Actually wait… where was Christopher?

That sinking feeling of fear, anxiety, dread, horror, distress, and every other combination, pulled through you as you tried not to think the worst. Thankfully, it disappeared. You heard Buck shouting over the roaring waves, looking for Christopher. He must be nearby if you heard him.

You turned around and there he was, clinging to a string of lights.

“Chris! Just stay there, I’m coming!” Buck shouted hard.

You tried to call him, but he didn’t see you. His back was turned to you and he couldn’t hear you against the current. Buck let go of the string of lights and started traveling at a wildly insane speed further inland, and you mentally cursed yourself. You knew what you had to do but you didn’t want to do it.

You mustered up as much courage as you could find, which wasn’t much to begin with, and you jumped into the water. The current was strong and pulling you in different directions as you rode the wave behind Buck. Swimming hard, you saw Christopher clinging to a pole, much like you were. And Buck was on his way to him.

Come on, Buck.

And…

He missed.

The current was too strong and pulled Buck, who was reaching out for Christopher but the distance between them was growing.

“Stay there!” Buck said as he fought like hell to swim against the current, to fight and reach for the boy. It was no use. He found a good spot full of items floating on the water and he clung to something, you couldn’t tell what, just as Christopher slipped from the pole and disappeared under the water.

“Christopher!” you screamed with whatever you had left. Your throat burned and ached, your muscles begging for a break, but you didn’t stop.

Buck heard you. He was looking for Christopher in the water, but he glanced just a second to see if he could find you. Taking a deep breath, the ex-firefighter dove into the water, which was something you would not have done given the circumstances, and you swirled and paddled as close to the area as you can.

Buck emerged, out of breath, holding Christopher in his arms and hugging the boy tightly. You wanted to cry from relief and for some reason, the waves seemed calmer now. You weren’t struggling to swim so hard and so fast, and you took a break, letting the current guide you. You were following Buck and Christopher and you didn’t dare blink for fear of losing sight of them.

Buck found a firetruck in the water, mostly submerged. He tossed Christopher on the roof of the vehicle and turned his gaze to find you.

“Y/N!” he shouted. Relief flashed in his eyes.

He spotted you easily enough and held onto the firetruck with one hand while reaching out for yours. Learning the mistake, he made with Christopher earlier, he was able to adjust his angle and grab your hand, pulling you toward the truck. Your back smashed into the headlight and you gasped in pain, but it passed from all the adrenaline. You put a foot on the driver side window and climbed up onto the truck, with Buck following behind.

The two of you collapsed against the metal roof of the truck, gasping and heaving for breaths. The water was rushing around you but calmer. The biggest part of the wave was done and all that was left was the flood.

“Definitely not the first date I imagined,” you said in between breaths for air. You sat up slightly and winced in pain. There was going to be a bruise on your back from the headlight, but you couldn’t worry about that right now.

Buck turned to look at you and he let out a small laugh.

“I’m full of surprises,” he said, and you couldn’t help but grin.

Your body needed rest and you laid back down, your breath slowly catching itself. Buck was next to you, glancing over at Christopher to see if the boy was okay. He seemed to be and when Buck wasn’t worried about him anymore, he turned his head to face you.

Your hand slowly crept off to the side, getting closer to Buck’s. Your pinky brushed over the back of his hand, mimicking what he had done earlier on the bench, before all of this happened. You were expecting Buck to just link his pinky through yours, but he grabbed your hand. His fingers intertwined with yours and he held on with a squeeze.

You felt your heart flutter again, just like before. Remember when you were questioning if you had a crush on Evan Buckley or not? Turns out, you do.

He was looking at you with his beautiful, light eyes. He was smiling. If it weren’t for the natural disaster that was occurring around you, this would be a nice moment. But reality has a funny way of interjecting and Buck slowly sat up and crawled his way over to Christopher. His hand slipped out of yours and for a moment, you felt cold and empty. Damn you, Evan Buckley.

It was probably best to sit up anyway. Should something happen, you and Buck needed to be able to see around you and not above you. You sat too, ignoring the throbbing pain in your back.

“You good, Chris?” Buck asked the little boy.

“Yep. I took surfing lessons,” Christopher said with a laugh.

“Well, maybe you can teach me,” Buck said, and he looked over at you, “and maybe Nurse Y/N too.”

With a free hand, the ex-firefighter reached out to you and you grabbed it. He pulled you in and you sat next to him, your arm twisted around his and tangling your fingers with his own. Hello, muscles.

Wait, wait, wait, now is not the time for this, get it together Y/N.

Buck let out a sigh, probably from the relief that both you and Christopher were okay. Water still lapped around the firetruck, but it was nowhere near like earlier. It didn’t seem to be rising but it didn’t seem to be receding either.

For now, you were safe. And so were Christopher and Buck. That was all you could ask for. The worst was over.

Right?

#Buck #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #buck x reader #buck x you #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on fox #sink or swim #christopher diaz #9-1-1 fic

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame. 

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real. 

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back. 

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it  was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist. 

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that. 

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face. 

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.” 

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy. 

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.” 

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!”  You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain. 

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager). 

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind. 

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea.  “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo. 

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu. 

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed. 

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face. 

“Y/N?” 

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever. 

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.” 

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?” 

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect. 

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat. 

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long. 

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her. 

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.” 

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.” 

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.” 

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop. 

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

#i'm sorry in advance #however thoughts are welcomed #skz chan #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids blurbs #stray kids scenarios #bang chan angst #stray kids imagines #skz blurbs #stray kids chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan blurbs #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

[slasher-sweetie]

How about a poly ghostface with a voice actor who they kept calling and the Reader changes there voice everytime

OH MY GOD, MY FIRST ASK! OKAY, okay, it's happening, I just- I hope you like it! 😭❤

Poly!Ghostface x Reader that does Impressions

You were home alone, which was usually the narrative of a neglected teenager. As soon as you were old enough to not burn the house down, your parents started leaving you to have nights to yourself. At first you had been lonesome and scared of all the proverbial boogeymen that waited just outside your door. To desensitize yourself from this fear, you would have scary movie marathons in the dark. The first night you had been too afraid to move from the couch, visions of Freddy Krueger killing you in your sleep haunted you every time you closed your eyes.

Now though? You cherished your alone time. It afforded you the ability to work on your hobby, voice acting. You had always been good at voice inflection and picking up accents, so last year you decided to pursue a future career in voice acting. It was a hobby you kept to yourself mostly, but still one that you loved with your whole heart. You had been watching old animated movies to try to pick up on any of the more quirky voices of the characters, so far you had mastered Ursula the Sea Witch, Ducky from Land before Time, Mickey Mouse, Goofy, and Itchy Itchiford from All Dogs go to Heaven. Tonight you were practicing Jacquimo from Thumbelina, or at least you were trying to, until the phone rang.

You sighed as you put down your tape recorder, and walked over to the wall to pick up the corded phone. "Hello?"

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" an unknown voice rasped on the other end of the line.

Perplexed, you lift the phone away from your ear and study it as if it might hold some sort of answer, "Uh, I'm sorry? Who is this?"

"I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours," came the reply, the voice teasing.

"Oh, uh," you stop, wrapping the cord around your index finger. What could be the harm in having some fun, "I'll be whoever you want me to be."

The surprised snort of laughter from the other end of the line makes you grin in triumph.

"Whoever I want?" the voice asks innocently, "I don't know if you can handle that, sweetheart."

Now was your chance. You could try out your impressions on this faceless stranger without worrying about ridicule. With a deep breath, you start by compressing your vocal cords to achieve the high pitch breathy voice, "Oh, boy, Goofy! I think you'd be surprised by what I can handle, huh-ha!"

The only response was radio silence as you waited with bated breath, this was the first time you had ever done an impression for a living audience, and you had already messed it up.

"Was that.. Mickey Mouse?" the voice asked, you could hear a smile in their voice.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I do impressions. I'm still learning so they're not very good," you laughed self-consciously, continuing to twirl the cord around your finger.

"It sounded pretty good to me," was the reply, making your heart jump up into your throat.

You could have jumped up and down, this random, faceless stranger thought you sounded good!

"Oh, gosh, thank you!"

"You're welcome," the voice paused for a minute, "Y'know, you're actually pretty funny. I think I'll keep you."

Your eyes narrowed, "Wait, what?"

"Talk to you later, Mickey," with a breathy chuckle the line went dead, leaving you to your thoughts.

You pulled the phone away from your ear and looked at it for a second before hanging it back on the wall.

Well that was weird.

***

The next night you sat in the living room, watching and rewinding Winnie the Pooh as you tried to get a grasp on his voice. The ringing of the phone broke your concentration as you spoke into your recorder. You hissed in agitation and slammed down the recorder, going over to the wall to answer the phone.

"Hello?" you spit through clenched teeth. You'd have to do the entire monologue from the top because of the interruption.

"Well hey there, Mickey. You sound mad, what's wrong?" the stranger from the previous night teased.

For whatever reason, this voice had a calming affect on your nerves, and you let out a big breath, "Sorry, I was practicing when you called. I, uh, I've been trying to get this new impression down and I'm really struggling."

"Well, now, I'm sure you're doing fine. After all, you do great in all of your classes, so it's probably all in your head," the voice took on a reassuring tone.

You couldn't stop the cold feeling that fell over you, why had you not asked who this person was before? Why did you not think that it was someone you knew, or at least knew you? How could you be so stupid? You already weren't popular at school, all you needed is for your hobby to get out and make people think that you're even more of a freak.

"Who are you?"

"Like I said, I'll tell you my name if you tell me-" you cut them off.

"No, who is this? How do you know how I do in my classes? You obviously go to my school. Who is this?" you demanded, your anger getting the best of you. If anyone at school found out about this you'd never hear the end of it.

"Well, I.. I mean I'm-" the raspy stranger stuttered.

"Stop, it doesn't even matter. Just.. just don't call me anymore," you told him before hanging up the phone.

Immediately, the phone started ringing again, and you sighed, but then an idea struck. What if you answered in your impressions? Surely whoever it was would get annoyed and stop calling.

You answered and without missing a beat, you slipped into Winnie the Pooh's voice, "Oh, bother Christopher Robin, I thought I said to stop calling me."

"Listen, Y/n, please don't hang up-" the voice was silenced as you slammed the phone back into place.

You waited a few moments until you were sure that the mystery caller had gotten the hint. You humphed, and turned to go back into the livingroom.

You made it one step before the phone rang again.

You turned and nearly ripped the phone off the wall in your endeavor to answer it. Using your anger, you channeled the not-so-jolly Green Giant, and roared into the phone, "STOP CALLING, HULK SMASH!" before slamming the receiver back down.

You glared at the phone, daring it to ring again, contemplating violence if it dared to make a sound. After a few seconds of no ringing, you slowly made your way back into the livingroom, praying that this little escapade wasn't a topic of gossip.

***

So far, so good, you thought as you put your Chemistry book back into your locker. It was the end of the day, and not a word had been mentioned about your quirky hobby. Nobody had spoken to you all day, and that was just how you liked it. You closed your locker and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw the tall, lanky body of one of the most popular boys in school standing directly in front of you.

"Oh, Christ, you scared me!" you held your hand over your heart, looking up into the laughing blue eyes of Stu Macher.

"Sorry about that, I uh, I figured I should come up and introduce myself."

You raised your brow in question, "Stu, we've been going to the same school since 2nd Grade. We were partners in history last semester. I know who you are." You turn to go in the other direction, only to run smack dab into a chest. You huff and look to see Stu's bestfriend, and most likely to not succeed, Billy Loomis. His hands on your shoulders to steady you after your impact. You back away with a small thank you, running into Stu in the process. You could feel your anxiety heighten at this truly bizarre turn of events. Billy walked closer, cupping your face in his hand, his skin cold against your flushed cheek.

"Easy there, Mickey Mouse, no reason to freak out," he cooed, his grip tightening slightly. Stu's long arms snaked around your waste, pulling you flush against his chest, and dashing any hope of escape. You were still stuck frozen at the name Mickey Mouse. They had been the ones calling you??

This was insane.

Your fight or flight responses were kicking in, and you wanted nothing more than to run away from this situation. You looked around and noticed that the halls were completely empty, leaving you to your own devices.

"Hey, I don't know what this is about, but-" Billy cut you off by placing his fingers against your lip.

"Shhh," he murmured, his hand slip from the side of your face to cup the back of your head, "You know what this is about, we hate to be ignored, Mickey."

You were at a loss for words, your eyes blown wide from the intimacy of the gesture. It then dawned on you that you were sandwiched between two handsome guys, and for some unknown reason, it felt like you belonged there.

Stu nuzzled against the back of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive flesh there. The feeling of soft lips caused you to gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. There was absolutely no way this could be happening right now.

Billy pressed his thumb against your jaw, and tilted your face, and then you felt his lips pressing against yours.

You gave an undignified squeak, and your eyes snapped open. Your face was so hot it was near combustion, you could still feel phantom traces where his lips touched yours.

Billy smirked at your flustered expression, "Like I said, Mickey, you're pretty funny, I think we'll keep you."

What the hell had you gotten yourself into.

#slashers #poly!ghostface x reader #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #billy loomis #anonymous