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msmarvelwrites · 3 years

Text

For Old Times' Sake

Summary: “Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue,”

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Explicit sexual content, Vaginal penetration, fingering, Choking, Bucky with the filthy words, mutual pining.

Word Count: 2.8K

Authors Note: WOW! It has literally been a hot minute hasn't it? I cant say that I’m not a little excited about this 3rd lock-down in Ontario because it means I can actually find time to write. I’m sorry it’s been so long, babes. Anyways, enjoy! (I’m actually the worst and it’s been so long since I’ve done this!) The Biggest Thank You to @sweeterthanthis for literally cheering me on the entire time. This was such garbage before you came along 😂 I had so much fun with this one babe 💕 thank you for all you do ✨

The wind whipped against your face, bruising your skin with it’s callousness. Though the unwelcomed lash was nothing compared to what was to come. Or who, for that matter.

It had been longer than you cared to admit. The dodged calls hanging at the bottom of the icon on your phone serving as a cruel reminder of how cold you had been. Of course, it was never in your job description to take care of Bucky after Steve left— but there was an implication that made you run for the hills.

You couldn't do anything for him - give him anything. The last five years had consisted of running and trying to start over.

Besides, after the Accords, in the government's eyes you were just as fucked as Hydra. An ally turned fugitive the moment you’d chosen your side in that airport. You’d fight with yourself most nights that you decided with your head, but your first evening with a man who had bruised your lips with promises of what would come may have had more pull than anything else.

The same man that had called you every week for the past six months… The same man you had spent countless nights with, years of your life you would never be able to scrub away, no matter how hard you tried.

You had watched from afar as half of the world returned, their loved ones welcoming them home with teary eyes and broken hearts. You watched as he came home. His eyes, always scanning the crowds waiting for you. Waiting to see your face.

It made all of this so, so much worse. This was definitely not the homecoming you could have hoped for.

“We’re nearing the drop.” Your comm’s rang with a woman's voice who had helped smuggle you onto the craft. You weren’t exactly welcome in europe at the moment- or anywhere for that matter. The government did not take lightly to your’s and Sharon’s betrayal. You’d think that after everything the world had seen they would be a little more forgiving, but you couldn't exactly blame them for their trust issues either.

You could, however, blame yourself.

As soon as your feet hit the ground you were off. The distress call had come from Sam earlier that evening and now with the sun setting you could only hope you weren't too late. You tried to push the man who had haunted your thoughts for the past few years out of your head, desperate to focus on the task at hand.

Bullets exploded through the air, a warning as you were approaching the large shipping container unit. Your comms went static as they began to connect with Sam’s, his voice ringing through your ears as—

“Sam, a little help here!”

His voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I’m on my way - called in some back up.” Sam grunted as the sound of strangled yelps echoed around you.

“Back up? Who do we know that-” Bucky’s words were cut short as he let out a growl, the sound of his vibranium arm whirling in the background.

You rushed in without a second thought, the sound of his pain too raw as it ripped through your chest. Before you could assess the danger, you charged forward, hurling yourself at a large man pointing his gun right at-

With a loud thud, the man hit the ground. Your combat boot, heavy on his throat until he went still, and with it came silence. It was deafening despite the explosive gunfire around you.

“Y/n?”

Your name ripped through the air, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Back turned and body rigid, you were frozen in place. Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue, soft and get so personal. Like no one had spoken it before.

“Y/n, what are you-”

Sam's voice cut the newly cropped brunettes words off, “I got two coming in on your left, Buck. Oh- and welcome back, Y/L/N.”

You smiled sheepishly at Bucky, pulling your gun from its holster and flicking the safety off as you closed your distance with him. Despite the aggravation apparent on his face, a broken smile seemed to be pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Here we go again, huh?” You chimed, your eyes locking with his just as all hell broke loose.

The trip back to Sam and Bucky’s base was one filled with uncomfortable silence, and a tension that had your blood running cold.

Once the adrenaline of the fight had worn off and you were left face to face with Bucky Barnes, the guilt began to creep in.

“So…” Sam started from the backseat of the beat-up truck, the suddenness of his words startling both you and Bucky for a moment. “Long time no see.”

The scoff that left Bucky’s lips wasn't as subtle as you imagined he meant it to be. You tried not to let it bother you; in fact, you had prepared for this. How he might react when you finally returned home. What you weren't prepared for, however, was how indescribably gutted you would feel to watch him - eyes trained to the road ahead - as he gritted his teeth at your proximity.

To say that yours and Bucky’s relationship before the snap was easy would be incredibly delusional. It was messy and at it’s best dysfunctional. But for whatever reason, the two of you looked beyond that. He saw through you like no one ever had and before you knew it, the two of you were glued at the hip. It didn't make sense, but no questions were ever asked.

You just fit.

And of course there was the sex. Good god, you could feel your thighs clenching at the thought.

The way’s Bucky knew how to take you apart, with an accuracy that only he had. How he had your toes curling and body vibrating from the flick of his tongue. How he would have you screaming the most filthy things for him, all while begging to never ever—

“Y/n?”

Sam’s voice was like an ice bath. Your name yanking you back into the present and the question at hand. What was the question again? You couldn't think straight. Not when Bucky was staring at you the way he was, one brow cocked and that same familiar smirk plastered on his lips. If you didn't know any better, you’d think he could read your thoughts.

“Sorry- I… I was…” You couldn't seem to bring yourself back to this realm, too lost in the Super Soldier’s stormy eyes to remember what exactly you were trying to say.

“He asked you where you’ve been, Y/n.” Bucky spoke your name like it was a curse, laced with razor sharp ache and pain. His eyes told a different story though. The way he looked at you; the same way he always did.

With a warmth that only he had for you. It made you shiver.

“Running, mostly.” You started, your body physically breaking your gaze with Bucky. It was too much, watching him glare down at you. And maybe you deserved it.

“And you never thought to, I don't know, call me?” Bucky’s words were spiteful, oozing with a disdain that was beginning to wear down your patience.

“It wasn't like that, Buck-”

“You can’t call me that anymore.” He snapped, his eyes trained on the road. Your gaze snapped to him, brow arched as you all but scoffed at him.

“Oh, I can't?” You chuckled, but the sound came out flat. He had every right to ask you where you've been. Hell, get angry if he wanted. But the way his words seeped with disgust made your blood boil.

“Okay, okay guys. Let’s all take a breath and just—”

“Shut up, Sam.” You both snarled, causing Sam to roll his eyes as Bucky pulled into a long winding driveway with a small log cabin sat at the end of it. You reached for your seatbelt until your door swung open.

“You two figure your shit out. Whatever this is,” Sam motioned to the space between you two, “ isn’t leaving this car. I’ll be inside. Feel free to come in when y'all have killed and made up, okay?” With that, Sam slammed the door leaving Bucky and you alone in your static tension.

Bucky worried on his lip, his eyes trained to his lap. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words seemed caught in your throat.

“You didn't even call…”

It was so quiet, you almost didn't hear it. But you did…

Voice small and so filled with ache; it kicked you in the stomach, the guilt washing away any anger you had felt.

“Bucky… I- I couldn't.” You forced out, tentative as you met his gaze, stomach dropping as your eyes locked with his.

“I thought I lost you. I thought - I mean, fuck - you were all I cared about.” He sighed, clearing his throat as if it would help ease his discomfort. “I looked for you, ya know?” He chuckled, but there was no warmth behind it. Just a brokenness that made you squirm.

“It’s not your fault—”

“Oh, I know it’s not.” Bucky quipped, his eyes flicking away from yours and turning back to face the cabin. “It was your own selfish decision.”

You scoffed, head snapping back to meet his glare. “Selfish? Bucky, I had no other choice. Not everyone can be pardoned for their crimes. It’s not like I had Steve Rogers advocating for my freedom!”

Bucky only rolled his eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, you swore he might rip it clean off the car. “Don’t bring him into this. You don't think that I would have done everything to get to you? To clear your name?”

You laughed bitterly, blinking away the tears that welled at the corners of your eyes.

“You gotta at least give me more credit than that, Doll.” The pet name rolled off this tongue easily, washing over you, and making you freeze.

“Please don’t call me that…” You faltered, wiping away a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

It seemed the tension dissipated in that moment, silence heavy between you both as Bucky reached out, his flesh fingers finding a tear and brushing it away. You tried to speak, but with everything that had been said, and all that would never be, you decided words just weren’t enough.

You didn't have time to object before his lips were on yours, your body moving at its own accord as he pulled you onto his lap, your thighs either side of him as his tongue swept across your bottom lip. You tried to moan, but his mouth swallowed the sound. He rendered you breathless, his taste intoxicating as you melted into his embrace, grinding into him and shivering when a familiar growl slipped from his lips; vibrating against your mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you.” You moaned out, clutching his jacket as you licked down his neck. His skin was burning against your lips, the rumble of his breath heavy against your ear as he let out a dark chuckle, urging you on.

“Well, if you had just called me—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you reached for the recliner, snapping it forward as you toppled forwards onto Bucky’s chest. His words fell back into his throat, hands automatically finding your hips to steady you while you fumbled with his belt.

“Doll—” He tried to start, but you swallowed the name with your kiss, heated and rooted in a desperate need to feel him again. You ached for him in a way you’d never felt before.

Maybe what you had was unfixable. Maybe it was beyond repair, but with the way he was kissing you and hiking down your pants, it didn't matter. You were drunk on him, and by the way he bucked his hips, so was he.

You shivered as his vibranium fingers looped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down over your legs as you both awkwardly tried to move in the cramped seat. You wanted to laugh, but as his cold thumb swiped through your slick folds, all you could do was whine.

“So wet for me…” He hummed, teeth sinking into your throat as he pulled a whimper from your lips.

You cursed, hands propping you up on either side of him as he dipped his index finger into you, the intrusion enough to have your back arching into him, desperate for more.

But Bucky was a tease. And even now, after all of this time, it was the very thing that had your buckling above him. Pleading and begging for more.

“Look at you.” He started, his eyes dark as he pushed deeper inside, his finger curing into you as you gasped.

“P-please, Buck.” You begged, grinding down onto his hand. To your dismay he only chuckled, watching intently as you came undone around him.

“I told you,” He started, lifting you off of him and tossing you against the backseats, “Don’t call me that.”

You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat as he awkwardly crawled towards you. But the look in his eyes had your stomach twisting into something that emulated fear. It was guttural as he pressed into you, the outline of his cock digging into your drenched folds.

You bit back a moan, eyes rolling back in your head as his cold fingers brushed against your core, pulling himself free from his boxers.

“Do you still love me like you did?” He spoke, and though the words were soft and filled with promises you had broken before, there was a darkness in his voice.

“I never stopped.” You admitted. And it was true. But that didn't seem to be the answer he was looking for as he licked his bottom lip, eyes trained on your throat.

“I’m afraid isn’t gonna’ feel much like love, doll.” He breathed out, lining himself up with your entrance. Before you could speak, he thrusted into you, knocking the air out of your chest as he bent you uncomfortably in half. You could only scream as he caged you in, forcing you down against the seats as he fucked into you.

It’s not like you forgot how Bucky filled you, but his size was something you would never be able by to fully adjust to. Especially not now, when he was holding you steady, his hips snapping against you giving you no time to ease into the assault. And by the looks of the lopsided smirk plastered on his swollen lips, he knew exactly how shredded you felt.

“Fuck, you take me so good, sweetheart.” The pet name doing nothing to quell the ache he sent ripping through your body as he sank deeper into you. You could only cry out, head smashing into the door as he kept up his brutal pace.

“B-Bucky, please.” You weren't exactly sure what you were asking for, but at this rate you wouldn't last long, the familiar coil building in your abdomen as he nudged up against your cervix.

“Slow down, baby.” You choked on a sob, eyes glassy as his vibranium fingers coiled around you thoat, pining you to the seats.

“Did you miss this part, doll?” He whispered against your ear, a shiver ripping through your body and igniting a flame you had so desperately craved since the moment he vanished from your world. “Miss the way I ruin you, Hm? I can feel you, coming undone. You’re so close, aren’t you?” he teased, pressing his fingers deeper into your throat until you were coughing around the pressure.

“All I need to do is-” His flesh thumb ran circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back into your skull as you croaked out his name, begging him to ease up. “There it is.” He chuckled, quickening his pace until you were a shivering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, I-”

“I’m going to ruin this cunt, sweetheart. Stay still, and let go for me” His voice was like gravel, only letting you breathe once you nodded your head in complicity, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as the orgasm wrapped itself around your core.

“Fuck.” You managed to scream, your head lulling back as a title-wave of ecstasy crashed over you, pulling you under.

“That’s my girl.” His words tipped you over the edge, his name on your lips like a prayer as you quivered, your body violently shaking. “God you're so tight when you- Shit!”

With a few sloppy thrusts, Bucky came undone. His hot spend coating your pulsing walls as he gasped. Your bodies a tangled mess as he puffed out a breath against your neck.

You both just stayed frozen, too afraid that the moment you pulled away, reality would sink in. And the truth was, you weren't exactly sure what that meant.

Bucky slowly eased himself out of you, gasping a little as you spilled out onto, what you only hoped, would be easy to clean seats.

“Doll, that was-”

“Hey,” Sam knocked hard against the now foggy glass, “You two hungry, or what?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #tfatws

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

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The Great Academia Road Trip, Part 7 (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: See above.

Word Count: 1,187

@heyoitsgenderconfusion

Part 1

~~~

“Look at all those chickens!” The little girl in the video said to the camera, pointing to the flock of geese surrounding her.

Deku snorted, then burst out laughing. “Chickens?!”

Kaminari beamed victoriously. “Gotcha, Midoriya!” Then he looked to Shinsou, who was as stoic as ever, not even a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, come on! Even that one didn’t get you?”

Shinsou shrugged. “It is kind of funny, but not enough to make me laugh.”

Kaminari groaned. He’d tried everything he could think of, and none of it was working.

The three of them were hanging out in one of the rooms Class 1-A was staying in during their road trip, which would be coming to an end in a few days. Most of the rest of their classmates were either playing in the pool or eating dinner, and the three of them were the oddballs out, choosing instead to stay inside to enjoy the quiet.

Well, mostly quiet.

Somewhere along the line Kaminari had suggested playing a “try not to laugh” game, certain he’d be able to outlast whatever his friends threw at him. As they’d taken turns trying to make each other laugh, they’d scoured the internet for memes, funny videos, and everything in between. They’d even tried making silly faces at each other, though that didn’t last very long. Kami was proud to say he’d outlasted both of them until now, when Deku had finally given in and let his mirth free. Now all he had to do was get Shinsou – stoic, silent, ever-serious Shinsou – to laugh, and he’d have won yet another game against them both.

Kami hummed as he considered his friend for a moment. They’d unofficially agreed that tickling each other wouldn’t count, but the longer the night went on that Shinsou wasn’t even smiling, the more Kami thought about breaking the unspoken rule. He decided to try a few more things first, just in case.

After a few old Thomas Sanders Vines and “epic fail” videos didn’t do any good either, Kaminari quietly put his phone away and squinted at Shinsou. “You’re scarily good at this.”

Again, Shinsou shrugged, exchanging a glance with Deku. “I don’t share your sense of humor, apparently. Most of those videos were just dumb.”

“Rude.” Kami smirked. “What is your sense of humor, then?”

“I’m not giving you anything that will help you win this game.” Shinsou smirked right back at him. “I have to be the king of at least one.”

Deku chose this moment to speak up. “He’s right, Kaminari – you are really good at basically everything we play. I’m actually glad Shinsou’s beating you. It gives me hope that maybe there’s something I can beat you at, even if it’s not a ‘don’t laugh’ challenge.”

Kaminari couldn’t help it. Between Shinsou’s stubbornness to even crack a smile and Deku’s teasing words, he was bound and determined to make the boy from 1-C laugh somehow. Even if it meant breaking the rules.

“Fine, you know what? You think you’re so good at resisting laughter?” Kami suddenly tackled Shinsou to the floor, pinning him with his body as he dug into his ribs.

“Gah! No! Kaminari, d-don’t—!” Shinsou bucked and kicked, grabbing desperately at Kami, trying to dislodge him however he could. Though the blonde bounced around like he was riding a bucking bronco, he never let go of any ticklish spots he managed to grab onto, and eventually Shinsou was choking back giggles. “S-Stop – this is cheheating! Kaminari!”

“Was that a giggle? I think you giggled! That means you lose, Mr. No-Smiles Shinsou!”

“Nohohot fahair! Y-You can’t – can’t tihihihickle me!” Shinsou finally gave up the fight and broke down into a stream of happy giggles, still kicking and squirming beneath his friend. “Get ohohohohoff!”

“Kaminari, that’s cheating!” Deku protested, though he was giggling, too. “Being tickled is an involuntary response; he can’t help but laugh if you do that.”

“You’re mahahahaking it worse, Midoriyahahaha!” Shinsou squealed, snickering helplessly when Kami drilled into his belly, making him toss his head back with a bright smile. “Nohohohohohoho!”

“We never established a ‘no touching’ rule,” Kami argued playfully, knowing full well he’d be outvoted in this instance and not caring in the slightest. He finally had Shinsou cackling. He didn’t care what the game’s results would look like anymore.

“Plehehehehehease, stahahahahahap!” Shinsou tried to roll around to escape the tickling, but Kami’s entire body weight on top of him made it virtually impossible for him to do anything more than laugh and kick. “You cheheheheheater! Get off of mehehehehehe!”

When Kaminari didn’t seem to be listening, Deku grinned and snuck up behind him, grabbing his sides, making the blonde let out a yelp of surprise and arch back, releasing Shinsou in the process. The violet-haired boy instantly shot his hands up to scribble at Kami’s belly, and within seconds the tide had completely turned.

“Ehehehehehehehe! Nahahahahahahaha!” Kaminari squealed and giggled, pinned down by both of them at once. Deku grabbed onto a thigh and dug in, making the blonde let out a shriek of ticklish laughter, a jolt of panic shooting through him. “NOHOHOHO!! Dohohohohon’t—!”

“Gentle, Midoriya,” Shinsou told him calmly. “Kaminari doesn’t like rougher tickles. Just soft ones.”

Deku looked surprised, but he nodded his understanding. “Oh, okay, sure. Sorry. I’ll be careful.”

Kaminari continued to lay there giggling without protest for a few moments before daring to say, “S-So I wihihihihihin, rihihihihight?”

“Win?” Shinsou growled playfully, scratching at his belly button with a wicked smirk. “Absolutely not.”

“You totally cheated,” Deku agreed, prodding at his ribs one at a time.

“Did nohohohohohohot!”

“Did too,” both of his ticklers replied in unison before sharing smirks and trying out a new tactic at the same time, like they’d rehearsed it. Each of them scribbled their fingers lightly over Kami’s thighs, holding his arms down as they did so, and the blonde let out a loud squeal.

“Nahahahahahahaha! Frick, nohohoho – gahahahahahaha okay fine I cheheheheheated! I definitely cheheheheheated!”

Chuckling, Shinsou and Deku let him go, allowing him to catch his breath before helping him sit up. Deku beamed at him. “So Shinsou won the ‘don’t laugh’ challenge. Right?”

“Right,” Kami conceded, shooting a playful look at Shinsou. “But don’t get cocky up on your high horse, your majesty. I’ll take that crown back from you someday.”

“I’d like to see you try without resorting to tickling,” Shinsou shot back, giving his side one more playful poke.

Kami giggled, then glanced at Deku, a whole new spark lighting up his eyes. “Say, Shinsou…I don’t think it’s fair that Midoriya was so nice to let us both have our fun without getting tickled in return. Don’t you?”

Deku’s eyes widened and he began to shrink back, but his huge smile gave him away. “T-That’s okay, I don’t need—”

“You’re right, Kaminari,” Shinsou replied, smirking at the greenette. “Let’s get him.”

Soon the room was filled with Deku’s bright, happy laughter as both of his friends tickled him silly, letting him get his fill of tickles just as each of them had before him.

~~~

Part 8

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spiderlilyserendipity · 3 years

Note

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him.

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him.

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow.

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes.

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy.

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone.

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one.

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room.

“Green.”

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. “S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

“I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.”

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung.

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner.

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true.

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.”

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes.

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass.

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes.

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.”

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him.

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers.

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?”

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply.

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot.

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back.

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does.

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself.

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow.

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

#bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #kim taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff

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pollylynn · 2 years

Photo

Title: Double, Double WC: 1000 Episode: The Time of Our Lives (7 x 06)

He’s eager to tell her the story of Captain Beckett. He is eager to tell her the story of hugely pregnant Lanie, uber dour Esposito, and critically nerdy Ryan. When it comes to almost everyone as they appeared in Oz, he is very into telling her their story. Almost everyone, though. Just almost and the word is a little bit of a buzz in the back of her mind, even though he has her laughing all the way through the flurry of errands they suddenly have to do, because they’re getting married. They’re getting married right now.

They should divide and conquer. She should head to the Hamptons and he should gather what they need here. Or vice versa. Either way would be sensible. But there is no chance in hell that they are dividing and doing anything. There is no chance in hell there will be any dividing before rings are on fingers, men and wives have been pronounced, brides have been kissed. So they’re at the loft. They’ve shoved Alexis and Martha out the door already. They’ve told the two of them that they’re desperate for a last-minute wedding.

“You did such a great job the first time.” He waits for three horrified glares to converge on him, then adds, “so I hear.”

They hit him for that. All three of them pelt him with soft and not-so-soft things, but then Alexis and Martha are out the door. They have been shoved out the door, and the two of them, left to their own devices, are dashing aimlessly around the bedroom throwing stupid things into his suitcase, her suitcase, their suitcase as they eventually decide, ad he’s regaling her with tales of the Mirrorverse Ryan and his epic crush on his mother.

“And after practically salivating on her muppet fur duster, that child”—he pauses to wave . . . something . . . a shoeshine brush, maybe? for emphasis—“that child had the nerve to go all Goody Kevin on us over a little perfectly innocent eye sex at the murderboard.”

“Eye sex?” She arches an eyebrow. It is not in the eye sex repertoire. Except it kind of is. For them it kind of is. “Less than twenty-four hours with Captain Beckett and the two of you were having eye sex.”

“It was a very hot, Spanish Harlem–related put together.” He drops the shoe shine brush, or whatever it is, and grabs her belt loops. “You were were powerless in the face of Spanish Harlem.”

“I wasn’t,” she spins free of him. She makes a dash for the ensuite, because toothbrushes are probably a good idea. A first night as a married couple probably requires toothbrushes. “And I doubt she was!”

He chases her around, insisting that Captain Beckett was mad for him. He wonders aloud what her stance would have been on Lanie’s mysterious Baby Daddy and the sad but final end of Esplainie. The identity of the Baby Daddy—and her insistence that he stop using the term entirely—lasts them the rest of the disorganized dash through the loft, where they have surely forgotten everything they will definitely need.

Him miming a waddling, heavily pregnant Lanie while she’s on the phone with her dad—because, shit, she needed to have called her dad, like, an hour ago—nearly gets him killed, but the performance also gets them in the car. A spirited discussion of the supernatural levels of sassy that expectant mother Lanie would have unleashed on unsuspecting New Yorkers last them a ways down the road, and it’s far more fun and road-trip consuming than it should be to speculate on all the things Esposito definitely did wrong not just to blow up that relationship, but to send Lanie screaming into the arms of the man formerly known as Baby Daddy.

“What about Jenny?” she asks suddenly. They’ve hit some traffic. She thinks it’s stupid and wrong and against a large number of municipal statutes that they have hit traffic when they are on their way to getting married right now. Her aggravation finds its way into the question she wishes—for reasons she’s still arriving at—she hadn’t asked. But here she is still asking. “If he was angling to be your stepdad—“

“Stepdad?”

She wonders how the green-around-the-gills face he’s making right now compares to Oz!Ryan’s alleged eye sex face. She can’t be bothered to wonder too hard, though. She’s too busy torturing him.

“—what happened to poor Jenny? Was she a theater widow?”

He goes quiet. It’s only a second, but it’s a enough that she hears the echo of almost everyone in the back of her mind, even as he goes on a tangent wondering what might have come of Ryan’s sweater vests if he’d approached the diva closely enough that her faux fur proclivities had infected him.

She wants to know what became of Jenny through the lookingglass. She wants to know what became of him that he’s not telling her. She has some inklings. She has some guilt over the tap dance she’s pretty sure has inadvertently done on his psyche this morning with her talk of other people’s perfect days.

There’s a lot she’d like to know about his sadness, his uncertainty, his sense that the world he’s build around her—around their lives—is fragile. But she doesn’t need to know now. She doesn't need to know today.

She reaches out across the car’s center console for his hand. She barges her way right into his third retelling of Esposito trying to break his wrist, just because he’d innocently looked for a high five to celebrate having been in bed with her. She circles that same wrist with her fingers and slides her palm over the back of his hand, knitting their fingers together.

“Hey, you know what?” She sneaks a sidelong glance at him. “We’re getting married. Right now.”

He gazes her in awe, Esposito completely forgotten. “Right now.”

A/N: Not even the morphousness of goatees on all these alternates

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 7 #Castle: The Time of Our Lives #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Martha Rodgers #Lanie Parish #Javier Esposito #Kevin Ryan #Jenny Duffy O'Malley Ryan #Fic #Fanfic #Jim Beckett #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Tell Me More

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herstarburststories · 3 years

Text

You Have A Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a call from Y/N, Sam comes back town to help -- and brings Dean with him.

Requests: N°1 heyhey, could you do a Sam x reader where they went to college togehter and later meet again and they realise their feelings for eachother...xx + N°2: can you do a college sam headcanon with medicine student reader

A/N: This was fun! The monster here is mentioned in season 6, when the boys ask Bobby for advice on how to kill it. This is my first Samgirl long imagine, with Dean being the flirty he is. I wrote this almost one year ago, so it's more crude and I'm nervous to be posting it! And my piece for @cajunquandary 's 600 challenge, my prompt was monster of the week. Dividers by @talesmaniac89!

Dean's eyes remained on the road when the bitter statement left his body, tangled with a wry chuckle, “I can't believe you are still in touch with those people.”

“Those people?” Sam arched elbows, slightly skeptical by his brother's tone, “They were my friends, Dean.”

“Sammy, all our friends? Dead. They all die. Or worse.” He glanced at him for a moment, pursing his lips together. It might not be an easy assignment, but was part of the job. Sammy had tried to run away plenty times and always came back, when would he understand? “We don't get to have friends. You should've learned that.”

“They are not our friends, they are my friends. Also, they don't know about the hunting life, they aren't in harm.” Sammy hissed once the other locked his green eyes on the road again. Dean sighed, moving one hand away and up from the steering wheel in a rendition gesture.

“Whatever you say, man. I'm just warning you, this doesn't usually end up good for them.”

Sam scoffed, Dean could get on his nerves sometimes, “We saved many people that got to have a good life.”

“Yeah, but those people didn't know us before that. I told you when you left Stanford--”

“I didn't keep contact, okay!? I just... I just still have a phone that they have the number of. No social media, no calls on birthdays.” Nervously gesticulating, he added, “I know how to keep them safe, Dean.”

“So, old friend?” The eldest Winchester asked after the few minutes of silence that followed Sam's outburst, “Female old friend?”

“Yes. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Dean smirked, and Sam to rolled his eyes at his behavior, “Keep it in your pants.”

He'd let out a malicious laughter before turning on the radio, the first guitar sounds of AC/DC playing in the background.

“I think you'll be the one not keeping it, Sammy.”

“Hello?” The woman in nothing but a towel who had opened the door greeted them with a question, her brown eyes glaring at the two men with clear confusion.

Dean had no shame to check her out, innerly celebrating that she was still wet from her shower. Perhaps visiting Sam's friends wasn't that big mistake. “Hey, you.”

She grimaced at Dean for two seconds before turning her attention to Sam again, sudden recognition written on her face.

“Sam? Sam Winchester?” He nodded, smiling that light-hearted boyish grin at her. Not caring about her dressings, she just threw herself at Sammy, hugging him tightly. “I missed you!” She pulled away only to hit his shoulder. Her short stature didn't match Sam's, but he'd still make a grimace at her attempt of slap. “Why didn't you call? God, your hair grew a lot. Listen, I have some scissors.”

“Tried that, didn't work.” Dean interrupted their reencounter, trying to get in the conversation. An usual lopsided grin on his face, “Dean Winchester, Sam's brother.”

“Layla, Sam's friend.” She gave him a friendly smile in return, opening space for them to pass through the door before closing it, “Come in, I need to change in clothes.”

“I wouldn't even dream of that. Seriously.”

Layla would just wiggle one of her brows at Dean's comments, not impressed by it, “Ele é sempre assim? (Is he always like this?)”

Thankfully, Sam still remembered a bit of his friend's native language. He just chuckled, managing to apologize for Dean's typical Dean behavior, “Unfortunately. Sinto muito. (I'm sorry)”

“(Y/N) is in the kitchen. I'll be right back.” Her accent was thicking stronger duo the comfortability around Sam. Excusing herself, the caramel skinned girl leaded upstairs.

“What did she say?” Dean asked, side glancing at the path Layla had just gone on, not even sure of which language she'd just spoken, much less what was said. Sammy didn't bother replying, satisfied to grin at his obvxion brother. “Dude, come on!”

“Sam!” A well-known voice filled the room as the image of (Y/N) appeared in front of them, dressing your loyal cook's avental. You didn't think twice before jumping on Sam. “I missed you, giant!”

He, like always, caught you with a light-hearted laughter, “I missed you too, cupcake.” You two spent a few moments like this, enjoying each other's warm and long lost touch, until Dean cleared his throat. You finally went back to the ground, embarrassed by having a stranger to see that level of intimacy between you and Sam, “This is Dean, my--”

“Handsome brother. Hello, cupcake.” Dean was so going to tease Sam for the rest of his life for it.

“You really live up for Sam's description.” You giggled, heading towards the kitchen “Come in, I'm baking.”

“So, you and Layla still live together?”

“Most of the time, yes. You know how she is, comes and goes. Never wanted to stay in a place for too long and got a job that supported that.” The boys followed you, Dean examining the kitchen and trying to discover what you were cooking through the smell, while Sam couldn't take his eyes on you, “Apparently, just like you.”

Even though your back was facing them as you checked the food, the bite didn't pass unnoticed, “I had to leave, (Y/N)”

“I understand that, Sam. But you never called or texted. It was like I--” You quickly corrected yourself, “We never existed for you.”

“It's not like that.” Sam sighed, how could he justify? He knew you wouldn't buy a simple excuse. You were smart, and knew him too well to swallow a 'I went on a trip with my brother and just decided that college wasn't my deal' and leave it for that.

“I'm here!” Layla declared, arriving into the room with an excited smile, it was good to have the gang back together. Although, the tangible tension almost made her go back to the shower, “Am I interrupting something?”

“A sitcom DR.” Dean answered with sarcasm, spreading his figure on the chair when you turned around with an apple pie in your hands “What about we talk about the ca-- Is this pie?”

“We heard a scream followed by a loud roar and (Y/N) stayed near the camping part because there was still a signal and I went looking for who it was. When I got there, the thing ran away. Jorge's body... No human did that. His chest was cracked open irregularly, as if it was done by an animal and his heart looked weird. Like it was squeezed and drawn on up somehow?”

“We got a Samia.” Dean stated, relaxing on his spot. Some sault, rosemary and fire would do the job just fine, “Let me guess, it left a clawn near the body or inside it?”

Layla nodded, “Right in the chest or what lasted of it.”

“Are you okay? Finding the body in that state.” A comprehensive manner englobed Sam's question, whom noticed the normality with his friend described finding a shattered body.

“Just some guts.” She shrugged, a grimace was all the reaction they'd get. Crying wouldn't help, neither being terrorized as they expected her too. “I've seen Grey's Anatomy enough not to care about it.”

“Well, I'm literally a medicine student and I am still not okay with that. Especially after you made me go and check the body.” You argued, glaring at your best friend who'd only roll her eyes in response.

“I needed a professional to say if he was dead or not!”

“You need a therapist.”

Dean got up, looking straight at Layla. Time to play the hero in shining armor, “Don't worry with that, we will take care of it.”

Frowning, you were the one to respond, “Do you work for the police now or?”

“Are implying that we investigate it by ourselves?” Your best friend added.

Dean couldn't believe his brother. How the fuck did he let them get inside without saying they didn't know about the hunting business? It was a luck shot that they didn't think much when he said Samia.

“Nope. Not you two. We will do it.” The blonde one said, pointing at them with a smirk.

“I agree, we will do it.” Layla replied, matching his taunt smile.

“Sam, I'm not letting you and your brother do it by yourself. Jorge was my professor, I knew him. Besides, we found the body.” You got on your feet and crossed your arms, waiting for a response. Sam always had a sort of hero complex, ready to help no matter what, but there was no way you'd be letting him go into danger with his brother. Getting in your dormitory to kill a cockroach back then or facing an idiot during a bar fight to protect one of your friends was something, but this? They were talking about looking for an assassin. What if something happened to him? You were the one who called. All on you. The thought of Sam getting hurt for any reason was unbearable, but because of you? You weren't willing to do that.

“You would be in danger, (Y/N). You both.” He tried to explain, internally hoping you'd accept his reasoning and let it go. Sam didn't want you to become one of the friends who knew about this life, you deserve more. He already lost one woman he loved in this city, he couldn't lose another.

You huffed in frustration, “Just like you will!”

“It's different.” As he was terrified of, you insisted. Arms crossed still and eyes locked with his, determined to get something from him. Sam was smart enough to know that you would keep it going. Perhaps he could give you a short explanation, “Me and my brother, we are used to this. We hunt things like that.”

Layla tilted her head to the side. The way Sam talked remembered her of animal hunting, although she highly doubted that was the case, “Little more explanation?'”

“Monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, spirits. The list goes on. Call us crazy. Roll the credits.” Sarcasm saltered every word of Dean's as he gestured up and down with a cocky smile. Everyone glared at him, a special furious look from his brother, “What? I thought they knew what we did and that's why she called.”

“Sam?” Your voice was fragile when you said his name, a demonstration that you would believe him through the fear of the truth, but that he had to say it.

Sam laid his hazel eyes on you. God, how he wished he didn't have to confirm anything, to break your vision of world so abruptly, “Dean is right. Supernatural things are real. I know it sounds--”

“Unbelievable? Problematic? Scary?”

“Yeah, all of them.” Sam offered you a humorless smile, then holding your hand the way he used to when you were nervous about an exam, “But I wouldn't lie to you, cupcake.”

The silence was broken by Layla opening a bottle of Whiskey, pouring them for the three people in the room besides herself. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, while Sam wore a tiny smile and Dean was astonished.

Noticing the eyes glued, the latina just shrugged “What? If you are gonna tell me that Dracula is real and you are a sort of Buffy's apprentice, then we will need some alcohol.”

“Why did you call?” Sammy asked, his brows knotted together, mouth slight open as he waited for your response. “You didn't know what I did. And he wasn't my professor at Stanford. Then why did you call, (Y/N)?”

You could make up a hundred excuses. Lie and say he was the one friend besides Layla that you had somehow a way to get to. Appeal to the excuse of 'I felt something weird about the death and you said I should call if I ever had a problem of any kind'. But for as much as you felt horrible for using a death as a pretext for calling him, that was partially the truth. You already had put yourself into a mess of monsters and a drained heart, it couldn't be scarier than being honest to Sam and to yourself.

At least, you hoped so. But your heart was rushing like when you saw Jorge's body. Jesus, when did love become so morbid?

You took a deep breath, oxygen barely achieving your lungs, and then started to talk.

“I wanted to call you the minute that you left, Sam. I almost did a million times.” You answered, looking down at the bottle of a sort of plant that he was putting in a dark green bag. “I thought about what you could be doing, what was so important that you couldn't send me a message. But you just didn't want to call, I guess.”

“I wanted to call, of course I did.” You scoffed at his statement, looking up to match his eyes, “(Y/N), I'm serious.”

“You didn't even come to Jess' funeral, Sam. Layla said that maybe you needed to leave to clear your mind, that was too much to deal with. But I was so worried, and sad and confused and I wanted to talk to you because you would understand, you always did. About anything. And I wanted to give you some sort of comfort, but--” You lifted your hands and shrugged your shoulder, a broken chuckle leaving your body. “But you weren't here.”

“You stopped leaving messages after two weeks. Calling was gone when it made a moth.” You sniffed. Sam's lips curved into a pure, cautelous grin. God, he was always so sweet. “The emails took two months.”

“You were never good with dates. I gave you a calendar in your freshman week.” Your teeth met your lower lip. He didn't answer, only nodding at your affirmation, omitting the fact that he still had the calendar between latin books and pieces of newspapers, “Yet, you remember all of it.”

Sam leaned forward, holding your hand with all the delicacy you would expect from a sculptor. It had been too long since he hugged you, and his touch made all your skin tickle with warmth. “I missed you too, (Y/N). I thought about you all those years.”

“So, Cupcake?”

"Let's focus on the case, Dean."

“Then you can go back and eat your cupcake?” He remarked with a grin. His brother just huffed, pointing the flashlight through the trees, “So, Layla…”

Sam rolled his eyes, like he usually did when Dean started being too Dean for his liking, “Dean. The case.”

Before he could make another teaseful comment, a roar invaded their audition. The hunters gave each other a quick glance before heading towards the direction of the noise.

Shaking the salt and rosemary mixture in his hands, Dean smirked, “That's it. Time to shine, cupcake.”

“I have to admit. Being patched up by a doctor is better than by Dean.”

A surprised, half relieved laughter came out your body as you finished another stitch on Sam's arm. That boy was unbelievable; openly talking and making jokes about his brother, who was also being patched up by your best friend in company of a bottle of whiskey, while he spoke about Layla's name being a rock song. You were working on a large wound on his shoulder-- which you were sure that was full of dirt from the forest.

Medicine student, but I'll take that complement.” You winked at him, gaining a soft grin from Sammy, “I was expecting more blo-- Why are you smiling? I'm touching a recent wound. It doesn't look dangerous, but I'm sure it is supposed to hurt. A lot.”

Sam's answer came out easily, the bare, vulnerable truth: “I'm happy you are here.”

You looked at him, his hair longer than before, but the soft simper remained on his face. You bit your lip to hold a giggle; her heart dared to hope. What he expected when he said things like this? A quiet contentment spread through his expression while he watched your reaction.

“You should have come home sooner.”

His mouth formed a line, “I don't have a home, (Y/N). It's just Dean, me and the road now.”

“No, Sam.” Shaking your head lightly, you intertwined your fingers with his. His life was dangerous, you couldn't afford the luxury of waiting even more to share what you had finally admitted to yourself in the moment he walked through the door. It didn't seem like the easiest, simpler situation. But the only hard thing you couldn’t go through was to be away from Sam Winchester. He lingered on you for years, you were done letting him run away. It was time to hold his hand and walk together. “You should've come home sooner. To me.”

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nostalgiahan · 3 years

Text

Still Into You

genre: songfic, fluff, smut

pairing: graffiti artist!changbin x afab!reader (gender-neutral language)

word count: 2k

warnings: drug use (cannabis,) trespassing, oral sex (f,) car sex, little dialogue, changbin and reader run from the cops lol

a/n: i was listening to still into you by paramore and this just kinda. came into existence. it’s also very song focused so if you’ve never listened to 2000s alt rock... i’m sorry lmao. the sugarmill in the story is also a real place that my friends and i used to visit and smoke take pictures at, although the cops never found us there haha. anyways enjoy folks.

Your nails had been tapping on the windowsill enough to wear them down to nubs by the time Changbin pulled up in front of your house. When his beat up Subaru pulled up next to the curb, you just about jumped out of your skin from excitement. Today was your fourth anniversary, as well as Valentine’s Day, and the adrenaline rushing through your blood was a sign that you were more than looking forward to whatever fun plans he had up his sleeve.

Compared to most couples on Valentine’s day, your outfit was pretty plain and not at all glamorous. Practical boots, jeans, an old band hoodie and Changbin’s dark green parka were your clothes of choice, but you knew that your boyfriend wasn’t going to take you to some fancy restaurant. No, you two were going adventuring.

As soon as you hop in the passenger seat of the car, shoving a couple of receipts into the foot well, Changbin reaches into his hoodie pocket and gives you a card. It’s crude, made of a folded sheet of printer paper and hastily scribbled on in pen but it’s very fitting for him.

“You better enjoy the card,” he says with a smirk, “because it came to me in a dream. This is pure, undiluted Changbin, packaged for your enjoyment and convenience.”

Giggling, you open the card. Inside is a barely legible “i love you so much y/n” surrounded by hearts, and in the corner is a drawing of a cow dressed in a lab coat and holding a beaker labeled “Moorie Curie.” It’s perfect, but what else did you expect from him?

“Happy anniversary, my love.” When you look up at Changbin, he has the widest smile on his face, cheeks dotted with flecks of paint and eyes crinkled up into little crescents. He’s dressed similarly to you, hair sitting in a pile on top of his head, clearly not having been paid attention to before leaving the house. It doesn’t matter, though, since the both of you will be wearing hoods over your heads anyways. You lean over the center console to give him a quick kiss, although it takes a couple of tries to get his lips since you’re both smiling so hard.

Changbin kicks his old car into gear as he sets off towards his destination. He’s explaining where you’re going, but you can barely hear him over the car speakers blasting Simple Plan and Green Day.

“So yeah, it’s this sugarmill that caught on fire in, like, 1910, and they never renovated it. There’s a bunch of cool abandoned shit around there, too. I think there’s, like, three fucked up couches.”

As you listen to him talk, you stick your fingers through the gap at the top of the side window. It’s permanently cracked open like that, and you have vivid memories of trying to throw cigarette butts through the gap when the two of you were bored.

After a while of listening to pop punk and playing with Changbin’s fingers over the gear shift, you arrive at your destination. Several charred brick buildings sit in the middle of a field, dead trees framing an open area in the center where someone has set up some logs and rocks to form a makeshift circle. Your boyfriend’s eyes scan the landscape, looking for his next canvas. Eventually, he tugs your arm and leads you towards one of the buildings, smiling back at you. “C’mon, let’s go explore this place.”

The two of you wander for a while, over rickety walkways and up staircases, taking pictures with your Polaroid and holding hands the whole time. Eventually, Changbin finds a stretch of wall big enough to start his work. Setting his duffel bag on the ground, he beckons you over and crouches down, inviting you to hop onto his back.

He pulls out a can of white spray paint, shaking it and popping the cap with his thumb. As he starts to paint, making large, sweeping motions with his arms, you really wished he had worn something sleeveless, however impractical. After lighting a slightly crushed joint you’d fished out of your pocket, you nestled your nose into his shoulder, holding the joint up to Changbin’s lips. He takes a few pulls as he works, the previously bland wall turning into a beautiful blend of blues, purples, and whites. It’s always fascinating to see how he works, seemingly not thinking before laying down a line of paint, yet each stroke seems to perfectly fit in with the others.

As he’s switching colors, Changbin lets you off his back, settling his hands on your sides. He stares at you for a bit, trying to study every bit of your face that isn’t covered by the oversized hood of his jacket. After a while, he smiles, pulling you close and kissing your forehead. Changbin always called you his muse, but you never expected him to take it as literally as he did, often staring at you or asking unrelated questions when he was stuck with a piece. He sways gently back and forth, pressing little kisses to your head, as Good Charlotte emanates from the tiny phone speaker in his back pocket. Occasionally, he’ll pull back just a tiny bit to really study your face, kissing you softly and muttering something along the lines of “i really can’t believe how fucking incredible you are” or “i love you so much it’s unreal.”

It’s not until a few more songs have ended that he pulls away, inviting you back onto his back as you light another joint. The piece is almost done, the tag “SPEARB” painted in blobby letters, shining artificially. All he has left is the outline, but his work is cut short when you hear the faint sound of sirens approaching and the light creeping in from the broken windows flashes a faint red and blue.

What happens next is like clockwork. You hop off of Changbin’s back, putting out the joint on the wall and throwing it into his duffel bag along with the other cans of paint he’s left out. What you’re supposed to do next is grab the bag and run, but Changbin is trying his best to finish a really specific detail and the more time he has that can in his hand, the less time you guys have to get the fuck out. After what seems like an eternity of whisper-yelling and (gently) stomping your foot at him, he caps the can and throws it into the bag. Finally, the two of you are off. As he’s picking up the bag, however, you notice what he was taking so long to finish. In tiny lettering, in the bottom corner of the piece, 4 words. “fuck cops” on one line, and “for y/n” on another.

As the two of you clamber over wooden planks and piping, pulling your hoods over your heads and your masks over your faces to hide your identities, Changbin grabs your hand and squeezes. He lets go almost as quickly as he grabbed it but the sentiment is still there; i’m here, i’m gonna keep us safe. It’s a welcome sentiment when shouts of “police,” and “show yourselves” echo through the abandoned hall.

Fifteen minutes of running and one chain link fence climb later, you’re back at the car, cops nowhere in sight. You’re panting heavily as you throw off the parka and throw it into the backseat, and Changbin doesn’t look any better as he’s gulping water and fanning his face. Right as you’re about to climb in, he grabs your arm and spins you so you’re pressed between him and the car, holding your cheeks in his hands and grinning at you.

“God. Fuck. Wow. You’re unreal. I love you so much.”

You’re unable to do anything but nod. The two of you are still breathless and in that moment you realize that’s what your love was like. In the four years of you dating, your love never went stale, you never settled into a routine. You were always doing new things, like going on spur of the moment road trips or fucking around at playgrounds in the early hours of the morning. You never thought about the future, just did your best to enjoy your time in the present and bask in the glow of each other’s affection. You expected that after such a long time together you’d at least feel a little duller, but everything still feels as fresh and new as when you were teenagers and sneaking out to make out on park benches when no one was looking.

As you’re lost in thought, Changbin pulls you impossibly closer and presses his lips to yours, hard. Music is still playing from his phone as the kiss becomes more heated, and you make sure to add 1985 by Bowling for Soup to your “running from the cops” playlist later. Almost every memory you have with Changbin is attached to a song, and this one is no exception.

Changbin pulls away to wrench open the back seat door, guiding you to sit and kneeling on the dirty floor. He heaves the duffel bag on the seat next to you and you dig through it, searching for the joint you threw into it earlier. Once you’ve gotten to My Own Worst Enemy, you’ve lit it and Changbin has gotten your jeans halfway down your legs and your thighs over his shoulders.

Your boyfriend wastes no time in burying his face in your heat, licking hot stripes up and down and moaning loudly into your core. He pulls away to rest his head on your thigh and take a few puffs of the joint, and in that moment you remember your Polaroid exists and manage to snap a picture of him blowing out smoke, with your hand in his hair and his face squished between your legs.

Changbin pays it no mind and gets straight back to work, sucking on your clit and easing his tongue into your hole. Your grip on his hair tightens and you arch into his mouth, fucking yourself back on his tongue. Picking up on this, he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls your towards him, close enough that you’re afraid he’s going to suffocate himself trying to pleasure you.

It’s hot and sticky and perfect, and the atmosphere combined with the weed and the fact that Seo fucking Changbin is eating you out is too much for you and you cum all over his tongue, which eagerly laps up your release, taking long, languid strokes to make sure he gets every drop. As you come down, Changbin is stroking your thighs and sucking hickeys into the soft flesh, and you register that Misery Business needs to be added to your “dirty car sex” playlist.

After basking in the yellow glow of the car’s overhead light and the thrilling afterglow of just having done something you shouldn’t have for a while, lazily finishing off the rest of your joint, the two of you get your things in order and begin the journey to Changbin’s apartment, speeding down the highway with the windows cracked the whole way. He carries you into the building like he always does, setting you down gently on the couch before heading off to the kitchen so you can make some blueberry muffins together. You do, and they’re terrible, so you heat up leftovers instead and watch reruns of old James Bond movies, cuddling on the couch. The night ends with Chasing Cars and you laying on Changbin’s chest, naked and sweaty and anticipating lots of aches in the morning, whispering tiny i love yous into each others’ skin and it’s perfect. But everything is always perfect with him. What else could you possibly expect?

please let me know if you guys enjoyed this!! feel free to send an ask, i always love receiving them🤌🏻🤌🏻

#stray kids imagines #changbin imagines #changbin x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #changbin fluff #changbin smut #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz smut #skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz x reader #changbin #can u guys tell i miss hanging out with my friends 😔

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kingreywrites · 3 years

Text

Kiss It Better?

@runningracingdancingchasing

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3426

Prompt: “Kiss it better” kiss

Summary: "Kiss it better"... Rapunzel liked that idea, she decided. It might not be magic, not like her hair had been, but giving love and affection to comfort someone who was hurting was definitely its own form of healing.

Note: I haven’t posted anything in a while oops fdsghg Thank you Bex for the prompt!! I hope you’ll like this!! This is half fluff half hurt/comfort so everyone should be happy :’)

Read on ao3

"Ouch," Eugene said quietly, startling Rapunzel out of her concentration as he sucked in a breath.

They were in the library, their favourite place since they had been welcomed in the castle less than one month ago. They had a common passion for reading, though their tastes widely differed, and they both loved to spend quiet afternoons in each other's company, reading whatever story interested them that day. Today, Rapunzel had been learning a lot about the history of medicine, reading passionately an immense volume detailing the progress humanity made in this field - at least, until Eugene broke the silence. When she raised her head to look at him, she saw him pouting in the direction of one of his hands, more precisely towards his raised pinky.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, putting her book down and scooching over to be closer to him.

"Yeah, I just got a papercut," Eugene grumbled. "These are the worst, such a tiny cut shouldn't have the right to sting that much."

Gently, Rapunzel took his hand to inspect the wound. It really was nothing more than a little line on the tip of his finger. She never had to deal too much with papercuts; even if she did hurt herself during the day, she had always known that by the evening, she would sing to Gothel, and would heal every of her own ailments at the same occasion. But that wasn't an option anymore, of course.

"You okay Sunshine?" Eugene said, interrupting her thoughts. She must have looked a little too intense - thinking about Gothel always did that to her. "You can always kiss it better if it's worrying you so much," he grinned.

She frowned at him, his hand still in hers. "I'm pretty sure a kiss won't make it better. Actually, I don't recommend getting your wounds kissed at all, do you know the-"

"Oh no, that's not- It's more of a… belief thing, I guess? I don't think a kiss can literally heal wounds, don't worry," Eugene explained awkwardly, and Rapunzel felt her cheeks darken at this. Of course Eugene wasn't seriously suggesting something like that. She should have known she was missing something - there was so much she still didn't know, so much she hadn't lived through, and she didn't feel like she would be able to catch up any time soon. Every place, every sentence seemed to hold a new concept she had never heard of before.

"Ah," she tried to chuckle, "of course."

"Hey, it's okay," he smiled softly, his free hand gently pushing her short hair behind her ear. "It's something you do with kids mostly, to distract them from little hurts they might have. You're right though, you shouldn't kiss the wounds directly."

She nodded emphatically, but kept herself from reciting all the exciting stuff she had learnt on medicine and bacterias today. She wanted Eugene to finish his explanation first.

"Basically, a lot of kids cry after getting hurt because they got scared, not because they're still in pain. Applying a "magical" kiss distracts them, and that makes them stop crying most of the time. Well, if the kid isn't stubborn," Eugene muttered. He was definitely speaking from experience here.

"It's not really magic then but it's... comfort?"

"Yeah exactly. It's both a distraction and a way to show a hurt kid affection, to make them feel better. I said it mostly as a joke," Eugene added.

Rapunzel hummed, mulling it over. This was… This was really nice, she decided. It might not be magic, not like her hair had been, but giving love and affection to comfort someone who was hurting was definitely its own form of healing.

Eugene's hand was still in hers, though she had lowered it on her lap during their little discussion. Slowly, she raised his hand again, smiling at the way he let her do it, and guided it to her lips. She put a soft kiss on the arch of his knuckles, eyes closed, thinking about all the love she felt for him. When she lowered his hand and opened her eyes, she saw the way Eugene looked at her, his cheeks bright red and his mouth half open.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked worriedly. "Oh, maybe the kiss should be closer to the wound-"

"N- no, no," he stuttered out, "it was perfect, I..."

The red on his cheeks intensified and, with some amusement, Rapunzel understood that he was more moved than embarrassed.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked cheekily.

"Yep," he squeaked, "definitely."

"Good," she smiled, before taking the opportunity his distraction was offering to press her lips against his, drawing a soft noise from him. Her hands sneaked around his neck, and his own ended around her waist, any thought of papercuts - or reading, for that matter - forgotten.

------

Though Rapunzel knew the trip to the Dark Kingdom was dangerous, and that the future of her kingdom was at stake, she couldn’t help but think that life on the road was really exciting. She discovered so many new things each day! And, even if it always made Cass grumpy, stopping to explore was one of Rapunzel's favourite things to do.

That was also why she treasured her dates with Eugene so much - not only did she love spending time with him without anyone else, but he also always made sure Rapunzel would be able to explore the most interesting places around. She sometimes worried he would grow bored of seeing her run everywhere, but he kept assuring her it wasn't the case - and going by the smile he always had when looking at her, she tended to trust him on this.

Today was one of those great days. They were currently making their way into a really cool cave Rapunzel had spotted, and they had both gotten a little wet because it had been hidden away by a small waterfall - they sneaked behind it thanks to a narrow path leading to it. Eugene had grumbled about his hair, but he was cute when he did that, and he still followed her in despite the splashing water.

"Uh, Sunshine," he called when she rushed inside. "Careful, it's probably slippe-"

The last part of his warning was left unheard as Rapunzel slipped on the wet floor with a yelp, and fell heavily on her hands and knees. It stung.

"I'm okay!" she exclaimed, grimacing as she got up again. Eugene was already next to her, and he gently took her arm to help her straighten up. "Ouch," she muttered when her knees contested said straightening up.

"Come on, it's drier back there," Eugene noted, before guiding her further into the cave.

She felt like she was walking like a penguin, trying to not bend her knees too much to avoid making it hurt more. The cave wasn't even that fun, or mysterious, she thought with a pout. Finally, Eugene helped her sit on a bigger rock, and kneeled before her extended legs.

His eyes flickered up. "Can I...?" he asked, gesturing to her now dirty and slightly wet dress.

"Of course," Rapunzel smiled - Eugene had seen way more of her body than just her knees, but she loved that he always made sure she was okay with whatever he was doing.

Gently, Eugene rolled up the bottom of her skirt. He had to tug a little when he got to her knees, because it had stuck to her skin. Her skin probably broke in the fall, Rapunzel understood.

"So? What's your pronostic, doc?" she joked as he inspected the wounds.

"Your odds aren't good," Eugene declared dramatically, searching through his satchel, "but I think we can still save your legs."

"Oh thank god," Rapunzel laughed, leaning forwards to see the scratches on her skin. One was a little deeper than the other, but it was nearly nothing. Eugene showed her the bandages he had packed triumphantly, and she laughed again. "Do you always carry that on you?"

"Hey, I know my public! Although, it's not often that you're the one falling Sunshine."

He took his cantine too, and poured water on the wounds, probably to get rid of the dirt and the pebbles. Rapunzel hummed quietly as he worked, mulling over what he said - he was right, she might be a little clumsy, but with her hair, rare were the occasions when she couldn't catch herself.

There were worse situations to be in, though. The sunlight was filtered by the waterfall, illuminating the cave with a soft, dark blue colour. It was as if night had fallen in the middle of the day, and there were only the two of them in the entire universe. Eugene's slightly wet hair seemed even darker here, but his tongue popping out as he concentrated on her also made him look adorable. Rapunzel had come to explore this cave in search of adventure and mystery, but to have Eugene on his knees before her, taking care of her, loving her - that was perhaps the greatest treasure this cave could have ever possessed.

"It's all good," he grinned, proud of himself.

"Not exactly," she smiled.

"Really?

"Kiss it better?"

Eugene raised his head to observe for a few seconds. Without taking his eyes off her, he placed a soft and quick kiss on the top of her right knee, then on her left one, his skin warm against hers.

"And now?" he asked, putting his hands on the rock around her legs to get up and be closer to her. "Is it better?"

"I may need another kiss," she breathed, voice drowned by the rushing water and the feel of his lips against hers.

------

Rapunzel was thinking about these moments, right now. About the soft and careful kisses in the library, when their relationship was still so new, and they didn't quite know how to say I love you yet. About Eugene's tongue and his hands and his hips, all pressing against her during one of their rare moments of privacy on the road, cold drops of water falling on their heated skin.

She was also thinking about the way Eugene's eyes smiled when he was happy; about the blush on his cheeks she knew exactly how to provoke, the laugh in his chest she could feel if he was close enough. She was thinking about it, because right now, Eugene didn't look happy at all, and she didn't like it when he wasn't.

"Hey hey hey Rapunzel," he called her from above, sounding more scared than she had ever heard him, "stay with me please okay? Just- Just breathe, it's gonna be fine, I swear."

Eugene always babbled a lot when he was freaking out. She found it adorable, really, but here, he seemed terrified, and she wanted to know what was wrong. Why was he- Why was he above her? No, wait, why was she laying on the ground?

She tried to say… anything, really, but she felt something press harshly against her shoulder, and the intense pain that erupted from it took her breath away. For a second, she couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything beyond the fast beating of her heart, before the world slammed back into focus, too bright, too loud, too painful. The sun was shining right into her eyes, it felt, and everything was nauseatingly hot - especially her shoulder, pulsing with a pain she didn't understand. There were voices all around her, and she heard Eugene snap at someone to back off, and she- the weight came back on her shoulder, and she gasped, feeling too tired to do anything else.

"I'm sorry Sunshine, I'm so sorry," Eugene said quickly, something breaking in his voice. "You're gonna be fine but I need to do this, okay? I'm sorry, I know it hurts."

"S'okay," Rapunzel croaked with difficulty, her throat dry. Eugene looked about to cry, and she tried to move her other hand to cup his cheek, but only her fingers twitched. Huh.

Eugene's eyes left her to look at something she couldn't see without moving and, to be honest, she didn't intend to move at all if no one forced her. She was so tired. She could feel her eyelids flickering, her vision starting to blur, but she didn't want to make Eugene even sadder by falling asleep on him. His frown was only cute when she knew he was playing it up.

Her head hurt. She could feel a slick warmth spreading under her shoulder, and she wondered what happened to the trip in town she was sure to have planned for today. She loved talking with the Coronans directly, and Eugene always managed to accompany her as a "security detail", so she would never miss it for anything. She was exhausted, though. Maybe it could wait for tomorrow...

"No no no no, Sunshine, Rapunzel, hey." Her right shoulder -the one that didn't hurt- was shaken roughly, and she had to blink open the eyes she hadn't even realised she had closed. "Yes, look at me, you need to keep your eyes open until the doctor arrives, can you do that for me Sweetheart?"

She tried to hum, but she wasn't sure he heard her. All around them, other people were moving, talking too loudly and too quickly for her to follow. She was... She was lying in the street? Eugene gently pushed aside her hair, but his usually white Captain glove had specks of red on it. Did he- no, she was the one who got hurt, she was pretty sure of that. Her shoulder hurt. But she couldn't- she didn't remember what happened.

"Eugene-" she gasped, feeling like she couldn't breathe right.

"I'm here, I'm right here Sunshine." He plastered the most unconvincing smile on his face, but she could see tears building up in his eyes. "I'm not leaving you I promise."

"I…" she tried, brain scrambling to find anything that could make Eugene look happier.

She hated it when he was sad. She hated it when she was the reason for his sadness, because if there was one person she never wanted to upset, it was Eugene. But as long as she was hurt, she also knew he wouldn't be able to cheer up.

"May- Maybe kiss it better?" she whispered hoarsely, blinking against the stars in her vision.

Eugene laughed tearfully. Her mission was somewhat accomplished, she thought with a small smile.

For a brief moment, she thought he wouldn't do it; then he leant over her gently, the sun illuminating his hair as his lips found hers with a tentative softness. Comfort. She remembered that this was the goal, to offer love and affection, to help overcome the pain. And, although this pain was still there, Rapunzel wanted to believe it was working, because she felt infinitely better when he kissed her. The kiss tasted salty. Eugene was crying, or maybe it was her, she wasn't sure. All too quickly, he ended it, leaving a piece of his heart with her.

She smiled, or at least tried to. "All better now," she intended to say, but her own words were lost to her when her vision tunnelled. Eugene cried out for her, and she wished so badly she could answer him, but her consciousness was playing a dirty fight, and she didn't even remember losing it.

------

Rapunzel woke up to whispers. The world was far less confusing, in this instant; there was no bright light, no burning pain, no loud voices - nothing but the quiet of the night… and these whispers. At first, she thought they were prayers, low and intense requests to be listened to. However, as she concentrated, through the mist covering her mind - as she listened, she understood that they were apologies.

She understood that it was Eugene, holding her right hand in both of his, softly asking for her forgiveness, voice so quiet it felt like he didn't want to be heard.

Despite the exhaustion, Rapunzel opened her eyes, feeling how heavy they still were. She breathed in deeply, and her shoulder twinged, but the pain was dull compared to earlier. She glanced to her right, and saw Eugene hunched over, looking at her hands as he muttered strings of apologies. He wasn't in his Captain uniform - just his regular clothes, and he looked... He looked small. Tired, too, even though she couldn't see his face.

"This shouldn't have happened," he breathed, squeezing her hand tighter. "I should- I should have protected you better. I'm sorry," he repeated again.

There were a lot of things she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that no one could predict these kinds of things, and that no matter the protection, someone who wanted her dead could always find a way to harm her. She wanted to tell him that she loved how he trusted her, she loved that he never tried to coddle her like other people in her life did, and she knew that, despite how scared he was right now, he would never do anything to impair her freedom. She wanted to tell him that this was a good thing. She wanted to tell him that she loved him.

"Hey," she said instead, her voice so hoarse she sounded like a grandma. Eh, she did her best.

Eugene's head snapped up, and his eyes widened visibly when they met hers. A myriad of emotions played on his face, the guilt and the joy and the fear all mixing together for an instant, until a bright and disbelieving smile broke on his face.

"Rapunzel," he breathed out, biting his lips as he held her hand tighter and leant to be closer to her. "I- Hi," he laughed, though it looked like a sob. "You're okay."

She grinned as best as she could, revelling in the way he immediately cupped her cheek, like he always did.

"Love you," she murmured, and it was all it took for his emotions to get the better of Eugene. His face contorted as he fought it, but it was too late; he lowered his face on her bed when the first tear fell, shaking slightly.

"I thought- I- I'm so sorry, Sunshine," he said, chest heaving as he looked at her again. His face was a mess. There were dark circles under his eyes, a flow of tears staining his cheeks, and, most of all, he still seemed terrified that she might close her eyes again, not wake up this time.

Eugene wasn't supposed to look like this. Eugene should be smiling, because she never wanted him to suffer from anything. But he was hurting right now, and if she couldn't make everything right again, she could at least make it better.

She could bring him comfort.

Rapunzel breathed, and used all her energy to raise herself slightly on her right arm. She didn't go far, but Eugene immediately came to support her, and before he could try to put her back on the bed, she raised the arm that was supporting her quickly, and latched it around his neck.

He didn't let her fall. She had known he wouldn't.

But now that she was close enough, she crossed the remaining space between them, and gently kissed the top of his cheek, feeling the salty taste of his tears on her lips. His eyes fluttered closed, and she felt his arms hug her tenderly, as if he was afraid she would disappear.

"Are you kissing my tears better?" he asked quietly, holding her tightly.

"Is it... Is it working?" she said, feeling now tired as she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and sound in his arms.

"Yes." His breath tickled the skin of her neck. Gently, he helped her lie down again, and she was too exhausted to say anything. "It's definitely working," he whispered.

His hand was playing with strands of her hair, soothing her as she was already half-asleep. She smiled, because she could already see that this was true, that he was feeling better now just from her kiss. And she would kiss him over and over and over again if he wanted, because she loved being able to sooth his hurts just by being there for him, just like he could sooth hers by being there for her.

She would do it after sleeping, though. For that night, she rested, because she knew she'd have the opportunity to love him tomorrow too, and that she'd do it for as long as it was possible.

#tangled #Rapunzel #Eugene Fitzherbert #tangled the series

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 3 years

Text

mistletoe & california snow - t. meier

Here’s the first of the things I’ll be putting out for the Christmas and holiday season! I’ve been working on this for the past few weeks, it’s pretty long - bear with me - but I am proud of it and how it’s turned out. As always, I read all the tags and love seeing and hearing people’s thoughts, so please let me know what you think!

word count: 7.6k+

warning: sexual content (light & brief, but no one under 18 please!)

Timo came into Noemi Silva’s life when she least expected it. It’s a cliché saying, one that had been around since time immemorial, but it was true. He wasn’t looking for anything serious, and she had just gotten out of a relationship a few months prior. But then she had gotten an internship with the Sharks social media team in winter of her senior year of college, and the more time she started spending around the players, the more he realized he wasn’t able to stay away from her. Not in a bad way, but in the kind of way where he simply noticed how radiant she was and wanted to do whatever he could to get to know her, to be around her, in whatever way she’d let him. So colleagues turned into friends, turned into him asking her out two weeks before playoffs started. She didn’t say yes right away, but it wasn’t because she didn’t know, and it wasn’t because she wanted to make him sweat it. She was worried about what people would think; an intern dating one of the team’s star forwards, worried that the office gossip would turn into arguments that she didn’t earn her job, or that she was trying to get people to go easier on her. After a long conversation with Alise, one of her best friends, then her older sister, then Timo, she finally agreed. Them being together wasn’t as big of an issue as she had thought, a few meetings with HR and some paperwork and they had the green light, as long as they kept things professional at work. And then she was offered a full-time job after her graduation, and now, almost three years after they had first met, she was days away from marrying the love of her life.

He had proposed at the very beginning of the year, on a weeklong trip to Switzerland courtesy of the Sharks’ bye week and a very well-timed nonstop flight to Zürich. Noemi wasn’t an overly sentimental person, she thought as she curled next to her fiancé on their living room couch, watching an episode of Gossip Girl. She never had been, but even she would admit without hesitation that there wasn’t a single thing she would have changed about their engagement.

---

Noemi’s parents were out of town on a weekend getaway to wine country, so they weren’t able to drive her and Timo to the airport for their bye week vacation to Switzerland. Everything had lined up perfectly that year, and Noemi almost couldn’t believe their luck. She had accompanied the Sharks’ delegation to the past two All-Star Weekends, one the year prior and the other only the weekend before. So they both had a full week off for the first time since the offseason. The Christmas break was great, but it wasn’t nearly enough time to travel anywhere, let alone somewhere outside of the country. They had both been worried about the flight time — for a while, the only option was nearly twenty hours with a seven-hour layover in London — but thankfully, a nonstop flight from San Francisco to Zürich had opened up that they had booked just before the holidays.

All leading to the current moment, with Noemi, Timo, and their bags in the backseat of Kevin Labanc’s SUV as he pulled up to the curb of Terminal G. “Hope you guys have fun in the Alps, getting snowed on and freezing your asses off while I relax on the beach, getting—”

Noemi cut him off, arching an eyebrow. “Freezing your ass off, Kevin. It may be California, but I think you’re vastly overestimating how warm Santa Cruz beaches get. Have fun, though,” she quipped.

The corner of his eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Meier, did you know that your girl can chirp better than half the team?”

“One of her many talents,” Timo said, shrugging as he hefted their bags out of the trunk. Noemi was the first one to hug his teammate goodbye, and then Kevin pulled Timo into an embrace.

“But seriously, guys. Have fun. Good luck,” he said, looking back at Timo.

“What did he say good luck for?” Noemi asked, her brows furrowed as they walked through the sliding doors to the check-in counter.

Timo made a noncommittal noise. “Not sure. Maybe he meant to say good flight?” And it was a good flight, they were both able to get a few hours of sleep in before breakfast was served just as they were flying over Scotland.

Noemi wrested her back from under the seat before slinging it onto her shoulder and flashing a grateful smile at the flight attendants as they disembarked. She shivered as the cold air hit her on the jet bridge — as soon as they made it out to the gate, she made Timo stop so she could grab a jacket out of her bag, zipping it up all the way to under her chin. Timo snorted; she glared at him. “We weren’t all born with snow in our veins, Timo.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

She had been through the airport once before, but once was nothing compared to the she-didn’t-even-know-how-many flights Timo had taken. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as they reached passport control, moving towards the automated gates as Noemi stood in the line for non-Schengen nationals. “See you on the other side.”

Timo had already been waiting for ten minutes by the time Noemi got through. Though, all things considered — especially when compared to the hour-plus lines they were both used to trying to get back into the United States — it wasn’t bad at all. “You get through okay?” he asked, kissing Noemi as she came up to where he had settled by a coffee shop.

She nodded. “Yep, no issues. Asked me why I was here, I said I was visiting family with my Swiss citizen boyfriend, asked how long I’d be here for, I said a week. She told me welcome to Switzerland, stamped my passport, and said to have a good trip.” She tucked her passport into her purse, zipping it closed.

Timo bent down to kiss the top of her head as she leaned into him, her hands wrapping around his waist. “Let’s get going, then.”

---

The day before they were due to fly out of Zürich, they decided to go into the city. By they, it was really Timo’s decision; before they left San Jose, he had shown her pictures of Zürich in the winter and mentioned the zoo. It was an easy sell, she loved getting to see the lemurs. They had done the zoo in the morning and the national museum in the afternoon, before the sun set just after 5 PM.

The beer garden he took her to for dinner didn’t have any more indoor seating — something Noemi didn’t have a preference on, but Timo seemed concerned about — so the couple settled outside, warmed by a heating lamp and a well-placed fire pit off to the side of their table. “I feel like a lizard,” Noemi remarked, glancing up at the lamp. Timo laughed, holding her hand and absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the top as he scanned the menu. “Now, it may come as a shock to you, but I happen to be less-than-fluent in Swiss German, so you’re going to have to help me out here,” she said as she read the menu. “Pictures are only getting me so far.”

He chuckled, leaning over the table “Do you want the raclette or the fondue?”

Noemi’s brow furrowed. “Raclette?”

Timo pulled out his phone, quickly navigating to Google. “The best way to describe it is like warmed, bubbly cheese that’s like scraped onto the food. Potatoes, meat, that kind of stuff. As opposed to fondue, which is obviously just fondue.”

She looked at him, bewildered. “How many ways do the Swiss have to eat cheese?”

“We’ve been perfecting it for 700 years, No.”

The raclette was incredible, as expected, and the saison their waitress had suggested paired perfectly. It was nearing eight by the time they had paid the check, and they had an hour long drive back to his hometown, but the night wasn’t over yet. Some of the Christmas lights were still up, and a short walk around downtown led them to a little art gallery that was still open, Timo purchasing a gorgeous oil painting of the city, the clock tower of St. Peter in the background.

“Belated Christmas present?” he asked, grinning at Noemi, as he arranged for it to be shipped back to California.

She rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

“Merci vielmal,” Timo said to the curator. “Come on, there’s one more thing I want to show you before we leave.”

Noemi blew on her hands before she stuffed them back in the pockets of her down jacket, following him out the door. She had gotten it a few months after she had been hired by the team full-time; there were a few different people on the social media team, so she didn’t go on every road trip, but it had become an invaluable addition to her wardrobe. She had made the foolish assumption that a November in Calgary couldn’t be too cold, and had only brought a fleece and a raincoat on one of her first trips with the team. It had been one of the worst mistakes of her life, and she had ended up having to run out to a Canada Goose outlet during her lunch break just so she wouldn’t freeze to death.

Noemi wasn’t sure where they were going, but supposed that she wasn’t in a place to be very skeptical. It was only her second time in Switzerland — she had flown out the summer prior to visit with him and his family — and she certainly wasn’t an expert, so she followed her boyfriend down the street and around the corners of tiny stone-faced apartments and old churches, a light sprinkling of snow dusting itself on her beanie. They walked for a few minutes before coming to the banks of Lake Zürich, where icy water would normally be lapping at their toes, even in January. Noemi hadn’t taken much of a look at the lake on the drive in; if she had, she would have noticed that it was completely frozen over, with couples walking and children playing tag even at the comparatively late hour.

He squeezed her hand as he stepped onto the ice. “Come on, babe.”

Noemi bit her lip. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

Timo nodded. “I called and asked a friend of mine the day before we left, it’s been frozen for almost a week and the weather hasn’t gotten any warmer. It should be at least nine, ten inches thick. Plenty safe.” So she let him take her hand, pulling her out to step gingerly on the ice, one foot in front of the other.

“Does it freeze often?”

Timo shook his head. “First time since ‘65. You’re getting something special here, No.” The snow gave their feet some purchase on the ice, and it was only a few minutes before they were standing where the middle of the lake should be, looking up at the jet-black night sky. “Can you see Cassiopeia?” Timo asked, looking up to the sky, his hands jamming in his jacket pocket, playing with what Noemi could only assume were his keys.

After their first date, dinner and a comedy show, they had driven to a stunning viewpoint on the outskirts of the city, bringing a blanket and laying outside stargazing and lazily kissing until they had to go to sleep sometime after midnight. “I could stay here for hours,” he had murmured as she lay against his chest. “Don’t think Boughner would take too kindly to you being late for morning skate,” Noemi had said. But she wasn’t arguing; she would have stayed there the rest of the night if they could. And Cassiopeia had always been her favorite constellation, the first one she pointed out to Timo that night, and one she loved just as much almost two years later.

It took her less than ten seconds to find it, the familiar “W” beckoning her just like it had a hundred times before. She looked back to where Timo had been just a moment before, mouth half-open, ready to show him the stars.

But he wasn’t there. Well, not standing, at least. He was kneeling on the ice, a blue jewelry box with a ring inside it balanced in his hand as the other reached out gently for hers. She gave it to him, of course she did. “Noemi Francisca Silva, you came into my life when I least expected it. I didn’t think I wanted a relationship, you weren’t sure either, but somehow after a few months of trying to be ‘just friends,’ we realized that just friends wasn’t going to work. And God, am I glad we figured that out. You’ve somehow fit in my life so perfectly that I have no clue how it ever worked before you were there. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, but even more than that, you’re so full of joy, you’ve always got a kind word to say about anyone, and you’re the best person anyone could ever ask for to have in their corner. I’m so glad you’re in mine.” He paused for a moment, looking back up at her with a half-smile on his face. “You asked what Kevin wished us good luck for back at the airport. Well,” he shrugged, “this is it. Noemi, it’s been the honor of my life to get to love you, and I can only hope you’ll let me do it for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”

For as worried as she had been about the ice not twenty minutes before, Noemi barely paid any mind as she crashed down next to him, their foreheads touching as his shaking hands slid the ring onto her wedding finger. It was the easiest answer she’d ever given in her life. “Yes.”

As Noemi straddled Timo in the driver’s seat of his SUV two days before their wedding, the bags of falafel having long since been abandoned in the back seat, she thought that she had never been so grateful for tinted windows and early sunsets. “The milkshakes are going to melt,” she gasped out as his fingers started to trail up her shirt, playing with the line of her bra.

“We’ll throw them in the freezer when we get home,” he said. Well, there’s not really any way I can argue against that, Noemi considered. So she let him pull her shirt off, undo the buttons on her shorts, and grab a condom from the center console — he had made damn sure to clean it out before filming a “what’s in my car” bit with the video team earlier that week — and slid into her as she tried desperately to keep her moans in check. “It’s okay, baby, let it out. I want to hear,” he said.

And she was in no place to argue. So she gasped and whimpered while he moaned underneath her, the seat tilted back just enough for him to hit her just right. And Timo knew almost everything about Noemi. You don’t get to be together with someone for over two and a half years without learning about them. He knew she liked waffles over pancakes and hated having to get up early and how she almost cried the first time she got sent to the principal’s office in third grade. He knew her body better than she did, how to send her crashing into an orgasm that left them both breathless with tired, goofy grins on their faces after.

But as Noemi steadied her breathing, looking out the window — the parking lot was still mercifully empty — she thought that maybe she’d leave out the fact that they had just fucked right across the street from her childhood church. At least we’re not trying to get married there, Noemi thought. I’d take up the whole damn time for Confession just for the past month.

---

Noemi stuck her head out of the door of her seventh-floor hotel room. The coast was clear. It was the end of February, ten months after they had gotten together, and the team was in the middle of their last big Midwest sweep of the season. Going through the Central Division — plus a stop in Toronto — was incredible and Noemi was shaking herself awake every morning, realizing that this really was her job, but it was also exhausting, and as much as it may have seemed counterintuitive, lonely at times. Well, lonely in a particular way. She had the rest of the social media team, and she was friendly with most of the athletic training staff, and she saw the players pretty much every day, and she was friends with most of them. But the team was a little more than halfway through the trip, and she’d barely gotten to spend any time with Timo. Sure, there were meals, and the few off hours they got had been amazing — when they played the Preds, it was her first time in Nashville, and walking around Music Row had been the highlight of her weekend — but it wasn’t the same as if they were back in San Jose.

Okay, if she was being totally honest, she missed the sex. It obviously wasn’t like she was finding it impossible to go without, she had dealt with it just fine when he was on a roadie and she was back home, but knowing that they were so close but couldn’t quite get there was a special kind of torture. Until now, when Timo had texted her just five minutes before. Kevin’s just gone out for a run, says he’s getting food after, some baked potato place or whatever. Idk. He’s weird. Anyways, coast should be clear for an hour or so 👀

Noemi had initially rolled her eyes at the message, not even sure if she’d text him back, but the more she thought about it, the more she was tempted. Fuck it, she thought, texting him that she’d be right over. Which is how she found herself trying to sneak the 50 feet over to Timo’s room without being seen. Everyone knew they were together — they had for months — but the last thing she wanted was to have to explain to Erik Karlsson that the reason she was out pushing curfew was that she just really, really wanted dick. The poor man didn’t need to know.

So she barely had to tap her fingers on Timo’s door before he swung it open, walking her back towards the bed while holding her around the waist. His knees hit the edge of the bed. Thank God there were two; she wanted him, sure, but even she wasn’t about to cross the line that was having sex in her friend’s bed an hour before he was set to sleep in it. She fell on top of him, sighing as his hands wandered under the hem of her oversized Santa Clara t-shirt, a mainstay from her college years. “Gotta get this off of you,” he mumbled.

Noemi let out a breathy laugh. “Good things come to those who wait.” She barely had time to let out a gasp before he flipped her over. “It’s only been, what, a week?” Noemi asked, giggling.

“Too long,” Timo replied, his lips trailing down the column of her neck. Her shirt was quickly forgotten on the floor, his following after a few minutes. She had gotten so worked up over the past week that he barely had to spend two minutes between her legs before she was pulling his mouth back up to hers, her hands fumbling with his belt buckle before finally getting it undone. “Fuck, one second,” he breathed, half-falling off the bed as he stumbled over towards his suitcase, zipping open the inner pocket before pulling out a condom. “You ready, babe?” he asked as he rolled it on.

She nodded quickly. “Get over here.” He had just pressed into her when the door opened.

“Brought back some fries to share, thought it would be nice since you didn’t get a chance to—” Kevin hollered as he walked into the room, while Noemi tried frantically to grab anything she could to cover herself. “Oh God. Jesus. Were you two just fucking?”

“In a manner of speaking?” Noemi said, pulling Timo’s dress shirt tightly around her.

“God, why would you two? I’m not even going to ask. I don’t want to know. You two are gross,” he said, though he had the tiniest of smiles on his face when he finally brought his hand away from his eyes. “I’m going to, I don’t know. Go down to the lobby, and...Watch CNN or something. Be done when I get back.”

He was gone just as quickly as he had walked in, and Noemi fell back on the bed, her face buried into the nearest pillow. “We’re never going to be able to live that one down, will we?” she asked hopelessly, already knowing the answer.

“Nope.”

---

A month or so after he proposed, when the post-engagement glow had begun to fade and the equal parts excitement and apprehension about planning a wedding began to set in, they had to figure out how they actually wanted everything to work. Where and when and how and how many, things neither Timo nor Noemi had ever even considered went into planning a wedding. Things like figuring out if their vendor provided linens or if they had to rent their own, things like what to do with the flowers after the reception was over and how to reserve a block of hotel rooms. Enter Mohana. Noemi had been an art minor in college, focusing on watercolor and digital design, so she sent over bits and pieces, links to Pinterest boards and concept art, and then handed off the responsibility.

It was important to Timo that the wedding be during a time of year where the team would be able to make it; sure, summers were free, but everyone had vacations to go on and family to visit and he really didn’t want them to have to go to the expense of flying back to California just for a weekend. Even though he knew without a doubt that they would. And neither he nor Noemi thought it was a good idea to do it in spring — spring meant the playoff push and their schedules being filled even more than usual, and they didn’t want it to turn into just one more thing to worry about. Which meant fall or winter, but fall could be hectic with the season starting and most of the weekend dates for their venue had already been booked up. Which took them to December. Her own parents hadn’t really cared, but Noemi’s grandparents hadn’t been exactly thrilled when she told them she wasn’t having a church wedding. They got over it pretty quickly, though a lengthy call from her mom might have had something to do with that.

Noemi wasn’t initially a huge fan of having a Christmas wedding. Though, really, it wasn’t even a Christmas wedding — it was on the 22nd — she was worried that people would have already settled in with their families, that she’d be disrupting plans and dynamics and traditions, that everyone’s toes would freeze off during the ceremony and suddenly their plans would be waylaid by having to take half the bridal party to the hospital to be treated for frostbite. She might have been exaggerating on the last one a little bit; even Bay Area Decembers rarely dipped much below 50º in the afternoon. But the winery they had chosen as their venue was available, and Mohana loved planning winter weddings, and Timo’s family had already been planning to fly over to spend the holidays with them. And red was her favorite color. So, all things considered, it was an easy sell.

Planning the wedding itself turned out to me more difficult than either of them had anticipated. The Sharks’ season ended abruptly in the Cup finals that year, so they both got what planning they could out of the way before leaving for Switzerland. Cake tasting was done two days before leaving, and she had ordered her dress in March. Facetime meetings with Mohana were usually done in the California morning, which meant that more than once, she had been explaining vendor costs and asking if they preferred peonies or poppies as they were cooking dinner in his parents’ house. Noemi headed back to California in late August — she would have stayed longer, but was limited to a ninety day stay in a six month period without a visa and didn’t feel the need to go through the trouble when Timo was following a few weeks after. It wasn’t ideal, and she missed him more than she wanted to let on at times, but a month came and went and they were reunited.

---

A soft knock came on the door of the bridal suite. “Everyone decent?” the voice asked.

“We’re good!” Emily called back. It was a no-brainer for Noemi to pick her sister as her maid of honor, who had nearly cried when she asked her early in the summer.

Patrick stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. “Can’t have him see you before,” he said jokingly.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Noemi said, smiling softly. Patrick had stuck around after his retirement, working with the player development staff during the season. Everyone was the better for it, and they were all so grateful to have him still be a part of the family. Even apart from his consistency and dedication on the ice, he had always been a natural leader of any locker room he was in, mentoring younger players without being asked and always being there for anyone who needed him. “It’s what the team dad does,” he always said.

So it was only natural that Timo and Noemi had wanted to find a place for him in their wedding. He had been all too happy to step up and help them with last-minute preparations the morning of, checking in with their wedding planner Mohana and helping to get all of the organizational details squared away — he had even driven back to the hotel the guests were staying at to pick up one of the groomsmen’s shoes when he had realized he had brought the wrong pair. “You feeling good, kid?”

Noemi looked at the clock on the wall: half an hour until the ceremony started. She gave him a nervous smile. “Definitely got some butterflies, but they’re good ones. I’m excited.”

The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Good, I’m glad. I remember when Christina and I got married, I was nervous, sure, but I knew. Knew she was the one, knew she was it for me. I’m glad you and Timo found each other, Noemi. A piece of advice?” She nodded. “Don’t get so caught up in the nerves and feeling like you need everything to be perfect that you forget what the day’s about. It’s about celebrating you, and him, and this marriage that you’re going to be building together. The photos will turn out great, nobody’s going to get food poisoning, and you won’t trip walking down the aisle. So don’t overthink it.”

“Patrick, I just put my makeup on,” Noemi said, dabbing under her eyes with a napkin. “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to cry.”

He bent down, kissing her on the cheek. “You look beautiful, Noemi. This is your day. Enjoy it.”

Patrick opened the door to the guy’s room just as Timo finished fastening his cufflinks. He looked up. “Were you just with No?”

Patrick nodded. “She looks amazing, Timo.”

“Course she did,” he said, like it was the easiest answer in the world. ”How was she?”

“Good. Nervous, but good. She’s with the girls, they were all drinking mimosas or something while they did their makeup,” Patrick said, sitting on the arm of the couch.

Timo’s eyebrows lifted. “Was she in her dress?”

“No,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes. Well-meaning though he was, he knew that Timo had been pestering Noemi to show him at least a glimpse of her dress, to no avail. She had ended up keeping it at her parents’ house when his bothering got to be too much. She loved it though. “You’ll see her soon.” Not soon enough, Timo thought.

“You here to impart some sage wisdom, Patty?” Kevin asked, poking his head out of the bathroom as he straightened his tie. Red for the groomsmen, a subtle plaid for Timo.

“As a matter of fact,” Patrick said, “I did have some things I thought about if you’d like to hear them.”

Timo nodded quickly. “Of course.” It wasn’t just that he respected him for his role on the team and his former place in the locker room, it was his dedication to his family and healthy marriage that made him immediately tune in to whatever he had to say.

“I know you’ve probably already figured this out already, having been together for as long as you have and living together now, but in case you haven’t. When you’re in a relationship, a marriage especially, you’re on the same team. You’re going after the same goal. Happiness and comfort and strength. Remember that. You’ll have disagreements, you might fight, but don’t let that overshadow the fact that whatever issue you two are facing, you’re meant to go at it together. Two,” he ticked off on his finger, “you’re going to have to compromise, probably more than you realize. Whether it’s what kind of take-out you’re going to get or where you’re going for vacation or what you’re going to do when you hang up the skates, listen to what she says, think about your priorities as a couple, and talk it out. And sometimes you’re going to have to learn when to let it go and let her win, regardless of if you think you’re right or not.”

“I’m learning that one,” Timo said as he finished tying his dress shoes.

Patrick smiled. “Good. Last, and probably the most important one, this is your priority now. Your marriage is your priority, she’s your priority. You said you guys talked about kids, yeah?” Timo nodded. “When you have kids, then, your family comes first. Your kids come first. I know it’s sometimes hard for people in our positions to wrap their brains around, when your whole life has been nothing but going to the rink and going to the gym, but there’s things that you’re going to need to prioritize over that, and that’s okay. The team understands it, everyone understands it. If you miss an optional skate to drop your kids off at school, or take off the gym for a week in the summer to go on vacation. If you’ve got to miss a game because your wife’s having a baby, or you take a call in a meeting when you shouldn’t because it’s Noemi and she needs you, that’s okay. Balance doesn’t come naturally to hockey players, hardly ever, but it’s something you’re going to need to learn, even better than you might think you know now. You do that, and you’ll be alright.”

There were less than ten minutes until Noemi had to leave, and Emily had just finished fastening the last button on her dress. Noemi took a deep breath, smoothing over the lace at her hips and straightening the edges of the three-quarter sleeves. “God, it’s really about to happen, isn’t it?” she asked in awe.

Her mom squeezed her shoulder. “It is.”

“You need me to drive the getaway car?” Alise, her best friend from college asked, eyebrows raised, one hand playing with the skirt of her crimson bridesmaid’s dress. “I like Timo, I really do, but I love you more.”

Noemi let out a snort. “Thanks, Alise, but I think I’m going to have to pass on this one. We put down a fat deposit on this place and I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

“Pity, I just got the tank filled.”

One of her other bridesmaids brought over the veil, gently tucking the comb in right above Noemi’s low bun. Noemi brushed her fingers over the comb’s pearls and clay flowers, remembering when Timo presented it to her as an early wedding present. “I was thinking it could be your something new.” Her late grandma’s pearl earrings were her something old, a ribbon from her mother’s wedding dress was wrapped around her bouquet, and a blue-edged handkerchief was pinned on the inside of her dress. Needless to say, it was gorgeous, and as Noemi slipped on her heels, she couldn’t help but think that it had all worked out better than she could have imagined.

Mohana poked her head in, pushing back her dark hair as she smiled at the room. “Everyone ready?”

“Bridesmaids are good,” Emily said, looking around. “No?”

Noemi nodded, taking yet another deep breath. “Good to go.”

“Bouquets are outside, I was just with the guys and everything’s perfect, ties are all tied, boutonnières are all in. The second shooter got a few really sweet pictures of Timo’s mom putting his in.”

“God, I almost forgot about the pictures,” Noemi said, even though the photographer had been in the room while everyone was getting ready.

“Alright, let’s go get my bride married!” Mohana beamed. She handed everyone’s bouquets to them as they exited, ending with Noemi. She had designed the bouquets herself, white poppies and red roses and eucalyptus branches all tied together with her mother’s ribbon, but the florist had really outdone herself. A perk of working with the business end of the team was that it took her almost no time at all to get the vendor contacts that the team used for all of their formal events, and a perk of being a WAG was that it took her one text in a group chat to get the number of one of the South Bay’s best wedding planners. And Mohana Kaur had been nothing short of a lifesaver. She had taken Noemi’s vague sketches and fabric samples that she had picked up at Michael’s and turned it into what could only be described as a winter paradise.

The flower girl, Noemi’s niece Elle, grabbed her basket of petals, looking back at her with delight. “Flowers, Auntie No!”

Noemi nodded, beaming back at the little girl. “Very pretty flowers, El-bear. You remember what to do with them?”

“I go after Tobias,” Tomas’ son was their ring bearer, and had honestly occupied most of the attention at the rehearsal, not like she minded, “who goes after Mommy, who goes after Auntie Emily. And then I throw the flowers while I’m walking.”

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Noemi said, bending down — as much as she could in her heels — and gathering up the youngest Silva in a hug. She loved her four-year-old niece more than just about anyone, and it was moments like this that made her that much more excited to have children of her own someday. Mohana had silently gotten all of the bridesmaids in order, looking at Noemi as soon as she stood up. “Showtime?” Noemi asked.

Mohana gave her a wide smile. “You know it.” After giving her attendants one last cursory look, she laid a gentle hand on the space between Noemi’s shoulders, left bare from her open-backed dress. “You look gorgeous, Noemi, and the wedding’s going to be incredible.” With a nod of her head, she led the wedding party down the halls of the winery, stopping at the oaken set of double doors that stood as the only barrier between Noemi and the rest of her life. She could hear noise behind the doors, the chattering of the people most important to her in her life.

Emily turned back towards her sister, squeezing Noemi’s hand. “I love you, No. You picked a good one.” She stepped off to the side as the doors opened, and one by one her bridesmaids walked out, then Tobias, then Elle, until it was only Mohana left. She gave Noemi’s veil a final adjustment, and then the music changed. A gorgeous acoustic version of Coldplay’s Yellow, one of Noemi’s favorite songs and one that had become something of a theme in her and Timo’s relationship. It was playing in his car the night of their first date, she was wearing a yellow dress when he told her he loved her for the first time, they had gone to a Coldplay concert at Levi’s Stadium the summer before the wedding, just after he had flown back from Switzerland.

Noemi took a deep breath, looked down at her ring, and stepped out the door. Some of her friends had been surprised when she told them she’d be walking down alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her dad, or wasn’t close to him — the opposite was true. She just felt that there wasn’t a need to feel like someone was “giving her away.” Nobody but herself had the power to do that, so nobody but herself needed to be a part of that element of the ceremony. It was the same reason she had chosen to hyphenate her name instead of just taking Timo’s. She had always loved the idea of a family having the same name, of everyone being easily identifiable as being connected to one another in that sort of way, and she didn’t like the seeming disjointeness that would happen when they had kids, even if if wouldn’t matter to anyone but her. But she also loved her name, loved how it sounded and what it meant and the connection it gave to her ancestors. So Silva-Meier it was.

Her veil trailed behind her as she made her way down the aisle, past the rows filled with 200 of their friends and family who had proven invaluable resources and support over the nearly-three years of their relationship. She risked a look at the end of the aisle, just off to the side of the eucalyptus-and-rose edged wedding arch. Where her fiancé was, the last time she could really call him her fiancé. Timo wasn’t necessarily more stoic than most of the other men she knew, and he was actually a fantastic communicator, but he wasn’t always one to show his heart on his sleeve. No such uncertainty today. The corners of his eyes were glassy with unshed tears, a few of which threatened to escape down his cheek. Kevin tapped him on the shoulder, handing him a handkerchief. I hope the photographer got that, Noemi thought distractedly.

It sometimes was hard for Timo to outwardly show his feelings, especially at the beginning of their relationship; Noemi loved Timo wildly, and there was no doubt in her mind that he felt the same, but Switzerland was never known as a particularly warm-and-fuzzy country, he was still an NHL player with all of the expectations and influences of hypermasculinity that came along with that. There were three times in their relationship where Noemi could remember seeing him cry. Eight months into their relationship, when her mom, Katherine, had had a stroke, he sat with her in the chapel of O’Connor Hospital as she sobbed harder than she ever had in her entire life, and he cried with her. The second time was when he proposed, and when she said yes. The third time was the May before, when the Sharks had gotten within one game of finally hoisting the Stanley Cup but fell to the Capitals in Game 6. At home. She had seen him lose games, seen him lose playoff series’, but that had been a whole new kind of hurt that she had never seen from him, and one that she never wanted to see again.

This was the fourth, and as she reached the end of the aisle, Noemi couldn’t help but think that if she reached up to her eyes, they’d be wet too. Noemi handed her bouquet off to Emily, and reached over for Timo. “Your hands are shaking, No,” he murmured as the crowd settled back down, their officiant extending a welcome to the crowd that the two barely paid attention to. The introduction, the invocation, all went by in the blink of an eye. “Timo, would you like to go first?” the officiant asked. Noemi had been so caught up in the surrealism of the day that she barely realized it was time for the vows.

“Of course,” he said, giving Noemi’s hands one last squeeze before beginning. “I always thought it was cliché when people say that love comes into your life when you least expect it, or when you’re not looking for it. A 23-year-old in the NHL usually isn’t looking to settle down and get married anytime soon.” Noemi gave a watery laugh. “But with you, I quickly discovered how right that was. Noemi Francisca Silva, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and, somehow, you fill parts of myself I didn’t even realize were missing until you came along. I could go on for hours about how much I love you, everything about you. I love how whenever Hozier comes on the radio, you turn the volume in the car up so loud I can’t hear anything else, even when you’re singing along. I love how you never wrap a present without curling the ribbons yourself, no matter how many times I tell you we can buy bows. I love how you don’t even have to ask me what kind of pizza I want when we order anymore, because you already know. But most of all, I love how you’re my partner, my best friend, the person I love the most in this world. And in a few minutes, you’ll be my wife. I love you, No.”

“You had an unfair advantage,” Noemi said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m calling a foul.” She took a deep breath. “When I look back on our relationship, from the first time we met, to our vacations, to our anniversaries, to the day you proposed, there’s one theme that I keep coming back to. It’s the first thing I thought of when I sat down to write these weeks ago. It’s how you never fail to make me feel so unbelievably loved. It doesn’t matter where we are, or who we’re with. We could be at one of the fundraisers, where you’re meant to be schmoozing with Silicon Valley tech execs, or at a party with our friends. You hear me, you see me, and when I’m with you, I feel like we’re the only two people in the room. The biggest piece of relationship I ever got, from my vovó, was to marry someone who makes you want to be a better person. I’ve never met anyone who does that as well as you do, Timo, and you don’t even have to do anything. I’m a better version of myself, the best version of myself, just from being around you.” She paused, going over the words that she had been rehearsing in her head for two weeks straight whenever her fiancé was out of earshot one last time. “Du bosch mine Schatz, und Ich lieb di Bis dass de Tod eus scheidet.”

Timo’s breath caught in his throat at her words. He knew that Noemi had been trying to pick up bits and pieces of Swiss German, but he wasn’t always there to help and it was a notoriously tricky language to pick up. That she had done it on her own made it all the more meaningful. “Timo, do you take Noemi to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?” He spoke without hesitation. “I do.”

“And do you, Noemi, take Timo to be your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others for so long as you both shall live?” Giving her answer was as easy as breathing. “I do.”

Her nervous hands slid Timo’s wedding band onto his left ring finger, and he moved hers into place above her engagement ring. “Now that Timo and Noemi have given themselves to each other with vows, the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Noemi had had a lot of kisses in her life, more than she could count. There was her first boyfriend, and senior prom, and college parties, and everything in between. But when Timo’s lips met hers, underneath the sprig of mistletoe that hung from their wedding arch, as he became her husband, she knew without a doubt that this was her favorite one.

#hockey imagines #timo meier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl

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seriouslyhooked · 3 years

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When We Collide (Part 5)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everybody! First and foremost, just want to thank those of you still on this journey with me. My motivation to write has been so much lower than I thought it would be, but I haven’t lost sight of what I want from this fic and I am happy to finally share a new installment. This chapter brings a last burst of road trip fluff and the build up to a big moment – Emma’s introduction to Killian’s life in the MC. It’s going to be fun to explore these dynamics in the next few chapters, but for now I hope you will enjoy, and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!

In the quiet, tranquil calm of a woodland morning, Killian watched the cabin bedroom fill with sunlight, bringing the softest golden glow to the rustic room where he and Emma had spent the night. Birds chirped to greet the new day’s light, and the gentle breeze among these mountains brushed branches from a nearby oak against the windowpane. The whistle of the wind and the gentle swish of leaves on glass melded together into something deeply familiar, a symphony of sound, the song of sunrise.

Sadly, this song was the last of its kind that Emma and Killian would enjoy on this journey. The final portion of their cross-country trek would come today, and when they arrived back home, a new reality would set in. Things would change drastically, Killian would have to reengage with a life he’d long ago left behind, yet despite the challenges that awaited him, Killian was astounded at the peace he could feel in this moment. Holding Emma as she still lay sleeping, he was filled with contentment, choosing to anchor himself to something that would be forever constant: his love for this incredible woman.

“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured, stirring from sleep and already entirely aware of him before she’d so much as opened her eyes.

Killian let the sultry sound of her sleep-laced voice wash over him. It sent a similar sensation coursing through him as the soft brush of her fingertips over his chest. Strumming an unknown melody, her hands on his skin lit him up inside, and though he’d just taken her a few hours ago, he was already ready to devour her again. Strewn out like this, in the glow of early morning, Emma was a vision with gold hair and sun kissed skin. She was stunning, and through the grace of God and all good things, she was miraculously his. The thought of that gave him great comfort and his own hold on her tightened ever so slightly. In truth, he was so distracted he nearly forgot to answer her sassy statement, but the smile that appeared at her lips as her green eyes opened for the day demanded that he ask for more.

“Doing what, love?”

“You’re loving me so much that I simply can’t sleep through it.”

Another man would deny such a cheesy proclamation, or deflect from the depth of his feelings, but not Killian. No, his Swan had called him to the floor, and she was right. He was up this morning thinking only of his love for her, and while other thoughts may threaten to encroach on their time together, he had pushed them all aside. She was the best way to stay grounded and centered, and he was selfish, needing to soak up every last drop of their moments together just to keep his peace of mind.

“I’d offer some condolences, Emma, but I think we both know how you feel about my loving you.”

He murmured the words against her skin, taking advantage of her lingering drowsiness to pepper kisses on her lips, her jaw, and then the hollow of her neck. He hummed out a sound of sheer delight when he felt her shiver beneath him, and when she let out that perfect moan of hers, the one that was part gasp and part plea for more, he was lost. All conversation was behind him, and he knew the only thing left was to show her how much he loved her. Luckily for Killian, nothing had ever come so naturally.

The choice he must make this morning was between a fast and hard claiming, or a slow, steady savoring of two souls becoming one. The payoff for either was bound for greatness, but Killian was keenly aware of how everything would soon be different. Once they arrived back with his brothers, the solitude they’d cultivated would be encroached on, and though Killian had his own house, which could provide ample space and privacy, he also had a sneaking suspicion that his brother and fellow club members would be highly invested in him and his woman. After weeks of it being just the two of them, Killian knew he’d have to share Emma’s attentions, and that he too would have to interact with people other than his Swan. It would all be good in the end, but he wanted to make the most of these last truly secluded moments that they had together.

The teasing slowness of his ministrations became a torturous affair not just for Emma, but for him as well. He began by tasting her everywhere, tracing every line and curve of her, with extra attention paid to the places that made her blood sing. He hung on every breath she released, and every charged call of his name that whispered past her lips. When she came apart from his touch alone, his sense of pride surged dramatically, but the most beautiful sight was when she relaxed back into that post-climax moment, gazing at him with love in her eyes and nothing but a soul-deep contentment in her heart. It made a man feel worthy to know he had put that look on his woman’s face, and for Killian it was the closest he would ever feel to absolution. He’d done wrong in this life, made choices that veered well off the path of what was good or moral, but somehow, she still loved him, and Killian was better for that love.

By the time she was ready to be taken, Killian was so riled, his senses were frayed in all directions. Knowing that he was already worked up, Emma decided to push him further, murmuring that she loved him and asking him to make her his. The searing heat of his need for her was constant, but the feeling when he thrust inside and claimed her was the most agonizingly incredible feeling in the world. Nothing should feel this right, or this perfect, but with Emma it always did. Their rhythm was synced to perfection, their love palpable in the air around them, and though Killian did his best to savor every bit of it he could, it always felt like it was over far too soon. All it took was Emma arching her back, crying out in ecstasy, giving over to bliss, and he was right there with her, spent but saved and feeling like despite the uneasiness of this next moment, he and Emma could handle anything.

“Whatever happens today, it won’t change anything,” Emma said, her fingers running through his hair that was growing longer than he normally allowed it. She pushed it out of his face, before looking into his eyes and smiling in a way that melted his heart. “I love you, and I always will.”

“It’s the same for me, love, but rest assured, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, we will move on. We’re bound to nothing but each other.”

“Killian, this is your home -,” she began. He quieted her thought with a kiss before clarifying the truth to her.

“You are my home, Emma. Wherever you wish to be is where we will be, and I will be the happiest man alive just for being by your side.”

Emma readily accepted this promise from him, whispering that she felt the same as they continued to laze for a while more together, enjoying their connection and soaking in this last bit of privacy. Eventually, they had to get up and check out from this retreat, and they moved through the morning with a practiced precision of two people who had done this for weeks. Travelling had become second nature to them both, and the six-hour ride standing between them and his brothers would be easily managed.

For Killian, the journey honestly felt too short, though he made sure to stop and keep a steady pace for Emma’s sake. He knew she had never been to California before, and there was something magical about this place compared with every other. It was easily the most beautiful of the terrain they’d been in for weeks as well, and in Big Sur specifically, there was a natural beauty totally unique to this corner of the world. Giant forests rose impossibly high into the sky, a cross between the woods of the pacific northwest and the jungles of South America. Trees stood so tall the tops could not be seen, and even in patches where fires had blazed in seasons past, life prevailed, with green vegetation growing from ash and soot and dust. When they reached the ocean, Killian felt Emma’s hold on him tighten, an indicator of her excitement, but he still drove quite a few miles down the cliff-lined coastal highway before pulling off to stop.

“Now this is the kind of view I could get used to,” Emma murmured as he helped her off the bike, taking in the secluded patch of beach they’d driven towards where not a soul was nearby. With her hand in his, Killian immediately felt stronger, but the look on Emma’s face prompted a gentle, pleasant aching in his heart. She was happy to be here, in awe of this place, and to Killian that meant everything.

“We’re closing in on our destination now, love. We’ll be back well within the hour if we drive straight through, but there’s something I would very much like to show you, if you’re interested.”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

He led her down the pebbled path to the seaside, torn between watching her reactions and actually navigating their course. The best part of this was that Emma had no idea what was coming. They’d approached from the perfect angle, preserving a truly hidden gem from sight. Only when they rounded the corner would she see it, and as they made their move, he heard her gasp and felt her hand squeeze his tightly.

“Oh my God… I don’t even have words for how beautiful this is.”

Killian completely understood the feeling, though his own sensation of being struck speechless by something truly stunning often came directly from Emma. In this case, the beauty in question was an old, yet faithfully enduring shore house. It was painted white, weathered from storms, but still well-kept and largely preserved against the passage of time. The nearby community saw to it, since the owners of the home had long since gone. This shoreline was all public lands now, but the house remained, a testament to the man who once lived there, a gifted artist, and a natural born storyteller.

The remnants of his decades old art were painted, drawn, and constructed into the very foundation of this home and the mediums of expression were all treasures from the sea. Sea glass especially was plentiful here, drawing dizzying swirls of color along the house, the wood working and more. The glass had been cemented there for decades, but it shone with the same fervor and sparkle as ever. Shells of all shades, some whole and some not, were also used. Iridescent golden hued pieces, hewn from the mix of cold ocean water and warmer kelp garden pools were the stars of the show. They were each a small treasure uniquely found along these rocky coasts, often collected by the sea otters who called this sea shore home. This collection of the rare shells was astounding, and made all the more beautiful by being mixed in with others that were delicate shades of white and ivory and some that were a cooler oyster blue. They hung from wind chimes in the beach trees and off the lanterns, while some darker shells had been ground down to a painted stain that had been used in part to tattoo larger rocks that were too big for the sea to claim. Wherever the eye looked it was drawn to spiraling shapes and stories, never running out of objects to admire.

“How have I never heard of this? And how are we possibly the only ones here?” Emma asked, moving closer and looking at the intricate designs of shells and stones that had been added to the sands and earth more recently. A local commission of artists was in charge of these added displays of beauty, updating them occasionally, but usually waiting for nature to clear the slate. After a big storm where rainwater washed it all away, or higher tides than normal where the sea came just to the house’s front steps, new designs were created and enacted. But it was clear that there had only been sun for some time, and they were fresh on the heels of an exceptionally well-done redesign.

“Very few people know of this place, love. It’s a secret that is guarded by the people of this town so tightly you’ll find no books or blogs or trace of it anywhere. Liam and I are two very rare exceptions, outsiders with the good fortune to know it’s here.”

“How did that happen?” Emma asked, leaning into him and eager for the story from his past.

“My brother and I needed escape when we were here with our father, but we had little means of finding it,” he admitted, bracing himself for talk of that past life, and knowing he should get used to it now that they were nearly home. “The sea was the only thing of comfort for both of us, and we came to it as often as we could. We scoured every last bit of the coast, and I mean every bit. One day we landed here, and happened upon this house as we were searching the coastline for unknown coves. It was easily the best find we ever made. Of course, we nearly scared the life out of the woman who was crafting the shellscape that day, and once she alerted the other town’s people there was a big to do. We were sworn to secrecy and all the like. We never did tell a soul. It remained our secret – one idyllic hideaway from the world we lived in.”

“But now you’ve broken your oath,” Emma said, looking at him curiously, though she was clearly glad for his breach of that old promise.

“Some may believe that.”

“But you don’t?”

“No, love. I believe the promises I have made and will make to you supersede any others. Besides, I am fairly certain that the promise is null when it comes to my wife.”

“Funny, I don’t remember getting married,” Emma said, though her teasing was a front for the rush of emotions she was feeling. “In fact, I don’t even remember you proposing.”

Let’s change that, he thought to himself knowing he had the ring in his pocket right now, but reason won out in the end, and he remembered his plan. He wanted to get Emma totally settled into their new life first, and to make sure she was ready in all ways. He knew she loved him and that she would be his forever, but it was only right to ensure that he do things properly.

“Soon enough, love. You have my word on that.”

Emma grinned at his affirmation, pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him passionately. When they broke apart, she asked him to promise they’d come back here and he did, and after a bit more time in this private oasis, they headed back to the road, driving towards their destination once more.

The ride along the coast was quick, far quicker than he remembered, and when they pulled off the coastal highway and to the discrete exit leading to the town he’d once grown up in, Killian could sense Emma’s surprise. They didn’t need to share a conversation for him to gauge her apprehension and excitement. She was no doubt wondering if they were really going to be living amongst this dense and beautiful forest. It would be a big change from her life in the cities she’d always known.

Soon enough they made it to the town line, reading the hunter green placard that announced their arrival. Unsure of what he expected, Killian was surprised to see just how much improvement had been made in his time away. Their town had always been quaint, but it could easily be described as ‘down on its luck’ when he was a boy. He knew it was his brother’s hope to not only remove the stain of his father’s shady dealings, but to help revitalize this community in a way that had been lacking for decades. But when Killian departed to seek his revenge on Gold, those ideas were mere figments of a would-be dream.

Liam has truly made good, he thought to himself as they cruised down the main street. Here along the town’s center there were new businesses and old ones that had been repaired and shaped for competing in the world today. Things were still classic and beachy, but the energy around it all gave away two important facts: the first was that this town was being tended to and cared for by its tenants, the second was that it was also being protected, and that anything that may threaten this currently peaceful ecosystem would not be allowed.

In this stretch of the ride, Killian could see some familiar faces in the mix, people from his old life in this town who were going about their day to day none the wiser about his return. There were also quite a few new faces as well, but Killian could spot the tourists right away. Their biggest tell was their fixation on his bike. People who lived in this region regularly would be densensitized, and since Liam had imposed a safety parameter for the town from other gangs, they wouldn’t bat an eye, even at a biker without his cut.

Not far beyond the center of town was the Den, the once large warehouse that had been reconfigured to fit the Land Pirate members and families when need be. When he was here last, the place was little more than a dump, with tell-tale signs of partying strewn about both outside and within. There was also a crappy, rusted gate around the perimeter that did the job of securing the place on some level, but had always been a huge eyesore. Gone was all of that, and in its stead was higher tech, better quality fencing. The Den was now fortified, and Killian could see the precautions put in place that passersby may not realize were installed. He also took note of the probie standing guard at the entrance.

Well this should be interesting, Killian thought as he drove up. He had no idea who this probationary member of the club was. Killian would have to explain who he was and that could get awkward. But before he had the chance the unknown man was speaking.

“Well I’ll be damned. Pres was right. Hook’s come home again.”

“Pres?” Emma whispered and Killian replied quietly.

“That’s Liam’s title here, love.”

“And Hook?”

“My road name.” Emma nodded, taking it all in stride as Killian turned his attention back to the probie. “So, he’s expecting me then?”

“Has been for weeks. You sure took your time getting out here, Hook.”

He looked at the probationary patch on the man’s Land Pirates leather cut and saw the stitched name ‘Mouse.’ Had to be a story behind that name. Didn’t exactly blend with the others who were patched in when Killian was here. “How do you even know who I am?”

“You kidding? You’re a legend, man, and so is she.”

For a minute Killian tensed up, thinking that Mouse was talking about Emma. He was feeling protective, and didn’t like the idea of other men looking her way unless they were going to show the proper respect. Only when Emma let out a laugh did he realize his mistake.

“Oh my God, you mean the bike! That’s classic. Please tell me it has a name.” Emma’s joking was incredibly apparent, and Killian was surprised at how nonplussed she was by their being on unknown turf.

“She,” Mouse stressed and Emma bit back her laugh, but her body still shook with it. “And yeah, bikes get names.”

“Wait don’t tell me. This will be way more fun if I can guess. Hmm, Harley? No that’s kind of obvious. Uh, I mean what do you call a gendered bike? Kind of a tall order… Oh I know, Lady. Kind of on the nose with the whole ‘it’s a she’ thing, but it works, right?”

Killian chuckled at the way Emma was enjoying herself, and he noticed the look of shock on the probie’s face. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation. This was no ordinary woman on the back of his ride giving him shit for having named his bike. This was the most important person in his world, and no one, club member or not, was going to question that.

“Look, kid, my woman and I have been on the road for awhile. We could use the rest, and it’s probably best not to keep my brother waiting anymore.” The overt use of the label for Emma created a total mood shift in Mouse. He had taken the hint.

“Absolutely, Hook. Ma’am.”

The change in tone as he nodded at them and buzzed them through to the compound was pronounced, so much so that Emma mentioned it when they parked and she stepped off the motorcycle.

“Is the somewhat caveman ‘me man, she my woman’ thing baked into this whole MC life?” Emma asked, her brow arched even as a smile teased at her lips. “I’m not complaining, per se. Just curious if I’ll have to announce my belonging to you everywhere I go.”

“Probies are probies for a reason, love, and the reason is they’ve got a whole lot to learn and more than one thing to prove. The men in this club with a patch, my brothers, they know better than to disrespect a woman, Old Lady or not.”

“Ah right, I forgot about that charming title. I don’t know who possibly came up with that one. ‘Old Lady.’ It’s so… unflattering. Had to be a man.”

“In this world, you can blame nearly everything on a man, love,” Killian quipped and Emma grinned at his assessment before continuing to lament the biker term for a man’s significant other.

“I honestly thought I’d have a few years before getting called ‘old lady’ and even then it would be by bratty neighborhood kids, not hot guys in leather who name their motorcycles.” Killian growled at the mention of men being hot and Emma teased him with a nip against his lips that was designed to have him wanting more but was only meant in jest. “But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of this somehow. I’m gonna find you the perfect partner nickname that undercuts how irresistibly sexy I find you in all your leather. I just need a little time.”

“You can call me any damn thing you want, Emma. As long as you call me yours.”

The words were honest and immediately shifted the sass of Emma’s commentary to something softer. Instinctively, she placed a gentle and loving kiss on his lips before they both turned to the warehouse. Together they walked hand in hand towards the door, and when they entered, Killian held his breath. Would this place look like the nightmare of his youth? The place he’d have fought through anything to get away from? It took only the briefest moment to see those worries were unfounded.

Killian was utterly relieved at how normal the Den looked, and how the relic of old had been completely rehabilitated. The general concept was the same, starting with a vastness in the entrance that made it seem like this place went on forever. The entryway blended into a great room where club members and guests spent a lot of time, and in the back there’d surely be more changes to go along with these ones. Killian knew the kitchen and living quarters, the war room and Liam’s office all would have been revamped if this part of the warehouse was. But this communal space in particular held a lot of painful memories. The ghosts of this place had haunted him for some time, but they were nearly all cast away by the warmth and modern makings of this renovation. It made Killian want to see more, something he never truly believed was possible, but as curious as Killian was, there simply wasn’t time. Soon the renovation was forgotten, and instead he was faced with the all important figure standing there, waiting for him after years of no contact.

“Liam.”

…

Post-Note: So I know I have stopped it right at the start of a hugely important reunion, but I fully intend to make up for it in the next chapter. Introducing the actual MC is going to be such fun for me, but, as with this chapter, it may take some time before I have a next installment out. My muse has been tricky, but I am hoping to get a bigger chunk of my story, ‘Feels Like This’ written by the end of the year so I can hopefully finish it up. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, and as always, I really appreciate you all reading and thank you so much for the support! Until next time!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #emma swan #killian jones #cs mc #cs mc fic #ouat mc #the whole storybrooke gang #when we collide #when we collide au #when we collide 5 #motorcycle club au

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kirkwallgremlin · 4 years

Text

An Impulse Decision

Carver Hawke x Alistair Theirin, 1565 words

Carver walks into a trap. Luckily his fellow Warden Alistair has quick reflexes. Aka what if we kissed in the Deep Roads (and we were both Wardens)?

Read on AO3

It was odd, being back in the Deep Roads.

He and Garrett had spent so long working to get there, determined to raise the money for Bartrand’s expedition, to make their fortune in dwarven treasure. From what he had heard, it seemed Garrett had made a relative fortune and Carver was glad his remaining family had somewhere comfortable and safe to live.

Obviously things hadn’t turned out how they planned. Bartrand’s betrayal, fighting their way back to the surface, his own brush with death.

Sometimes Carver wondered what he’d have done if he’d been given the choice. What would he have done if he hadn’t joined the Wardens on the verge of death, the Blight poisoning his body from the inside out? Would he have joined them if the choice had been his own, and not yet another choice circumstances and his older brother had made for him?

It wasn’t something he lingered on often. Life as a Warden was better than no life at all, and dwelling on what-ifs never helped anyone. He was happy as a Warden - he had friends, a chance to make a life for himself. And Alistair was one of the first friends he made independent of his brother, the first friend who wouldn’t always be comparing him in some small way to Garrett.

It was Alistair he found himself with now, trekking through passages as they tried to locate a new darkspawn escape point. A group of hurlocks had made it to the surface without being observed by the Wardens, and the Warden-Commander suspected they may have found a new one.

“You look like you’ve got a whole lot of… thoughts going on in your head,” Alistair called back to him, and Carver jumped, having not even realised he had stopped. With one final glance at the arched doorway that had caught his attention, thrown him right back to that one fateful trip with Garrett and the others, he hurried after his fellow Warden.

“Trying to drown out the darkspawn by overthinking?” Alistair continued as Carver caught up. “Doesn’t work, unfortunately. I’ve tried it.”

The darkspawn noise was another change to the Deep Road experience. With Garrett and the others, they had seemed almost eerily quiet, the only noises the echo of their feet and the occasional shuffling, grumbling noises of the darkspawn. Their voices, when they spoke, had echoed along the long, empty hallways, bouncing off the pillars and the piles of rubble that no longer stood.

The Wardens could sense the darkspawn, though, and the Deep Roads had no shortage of darkspawn. Carver didn’t know if it counted as noise if it was inside your own head but it was incessant.

“Does it ever stop?” he wondered out loud. Alistair shrugged at him, looking back over his shoulder.

“Nope. You get better at tuning it out though. Or… maybe I’m just used to ignoring whatever’s going on in my head. It does tend to be pretty full. Always full of thoughts and… well, now I guess darkspawn too.”

Carver sighed. Alistair smiled at him, a comforting smile that made Carver’s heart skip a beat.

“You should have felt it during the Blight,” Alistair said. “Darkspawn everywhere and the archdemon flying around Maker knows where.” He shuddered, turning back to the path. “I do not miss that. Ostagar wasn’t fun either, whole darkspawn army waiting just around the corner.”

He fell silent at that. Carver didn’t respond either. Ostagar hadn’t been fun for either of them, for a variety of reasons. While it sometimes was nice to talk to Alistair about it, something they had done a few times already, the Deep Roads didn’t feel like the appropriate venue.

He lived in awe that Alistair had actually fought the Blight with the hero of Ferelden himself. Despite having more than enough reason to let it go to his head - son of the former king, potential heir to the throne, saviour of Ferelden - Alistair was one of the most down to earth, honest people he knew, and the Wardens were lucky to have him. Carver felt lucky to have him in his life in any capacity, let alone as a friend.

The Warden-Commander often assigned them to work together. Carver suspected it was because Alistair was one of the most experienced wardens among them, and he the least, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. He liked working with Alistair. He made everything more enjoyable, even the things that weren’t at all pleasurable.

Lost in his own thoughts, he followed his companion through the maze of tunnels, wondering if Alistair would be interested in joining him for another game of cards later on.

Alistair turned back to look at him, his mouth beginning to open as though he wanted to say something as dimly, Carver heard a faint click. Before he had time to process what it could be, to even consider it, something hit him squarely in the chest, the air forced from his lungs as he hit the wall. Alistair’s body followed him, pressing him against the ancient stone as Carver gasped for breath.

“Trap,” Alistair said as the stones crumbled behind them, leaving nothing but an abyss in the path where Carver had been standing.

“Thank you,” Caver wheezed, winded. Alistair wasn’t small, and he’d hit him pretty hard, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

The weight of him pressed against Carver didn’t make it any easier to catch his breath and his mouth went dry as he realised how close Alistair was, the closest he could remember ever being to him. The closest he could remember being to somebody in a long time, in fact. And the fact that it was Alistair left him even more breathless, an odd fluttering feeling forming in his stomach.

And Alistair was still so close, his chest against Carver’s, one hand on the wall beside Carver’s ear, making no move to step back.

They stood like that for a moment, unmoving, breathless, adrenaline coursing through every inch of Carver’s body. Then something inside him gave way and his face was moving down, lips pressing against Alistair’s. One hand slipped behind Alistair’s head, wanting to pull him closer, as close as he possibly could as he kissed him.

He sensed more than saw Alistair’s arm tense in response and he froze, pulling back, almost hitting his head against the wall behind him as he did.

“I’m sorry,” he said, fear spiking in his belly that one impulse decision, something he didn’t even realise he wanted until it happened, had just ruined whatever friendship he had formed with his fellow warden. But now all he could think was that he had just kissed Alistair. Alistair, son of the former king of Ferelden, hero of the fifth blight, Grey Warden. Alistair, his closest friend in the wardens, the closest friend he could ever remember having.

Alistair, who may never want to talk to him again now.

Alistair, who still hadn’t stepped back, still stood so close that Carver could see the rise and fall of his breath.

And then their lips were together again and Alistair was kissing him, his arms around Alistair’s back. The other man’s armour was cold under his hands, no sun in the underground to warm it, his hair soft under Carver’s fingers. Alistair’s lips moved against his as Carver tried to lose himself in the moment. He had kissed people before, only a handful but enough, but this felt different, like he never wanted it to end. It didn’t matter that they were in the Deep Roads, that every sense was screaming an awareness of darkspawn, that he now had no idea what the future would bring. All that mattered was Alistair and the way he felt under Carver’s hands, under his lips.

Something scuttled to the right, the soft sound of shifting rocks loud in the quiet. They sprung apart, hands jumping to their respective weapons with practiced ease, and Carver let out a nervous laugh at the sight of the startled nug disappearing into the tunnels.

Alistair cleared his throat and Carver rubbed his face nervously.

“So,” he said, otherwise lost for words. “Uh… I should probably thank you for, y’know, saving my life and everything.”

“I’m glad it’s appreciated,” Alistair grinned at him. “I thought I’d help you avoid an untimely death and all that. It’d be a terrible waste to let you fall to your doom.” The grin dropped from his face though. “Maker, I think my heart nearly stopped though. Please don’t do that again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Carver muttered, suddenly hyper aware of every single part of his body and completely unsure what to do with it. Why was it so hard to know what to do with your hands? With your feet? “I’m... I don’t know why I kissed you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Alistair’s ears turned red. “Well, I can’t say I minded that part. You’re welcome to try that part again. If you wanted to. No pressure of course.”

“I think I’d like that,” Carver admitted, trying to ignore the fluttering continuing to grow in his chest. “We should probably keep looking for darkspawn now though. Finally get out of these damned tunnels.”

Much to Carver’s delight, however, Alistair showed him exactly how much he wouldn’t mind a repeat of that kiss before the pair of them moved on.

#carvistair #alistair x carver #alistair theirin x carver hawke #carver hawke #alistair theirin #gremfic #ANYWAY here's some wardens falling in love #carvistair fic

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Note

Hey how are you? 😊 so this might sound a little cheeky but I've noticed a real lack of roger fic material out there and since its my birthday today (22 oh my god 😯) .. I was wondering if youre not busy .. perhaps you might like to write a little roger x reader smutty blurb for me please? 👉👈 only if you would like to of course 😁

oh happy birthday!! I hope it was a good one! Your lucky we like things a little cheeky on this blog and also any excuse to write rog smut lmao.

~~~

You were on the road when you realised what day it was. Your grasp of time was spotty at best when you were travelling and Roger’s was completely hopeless without the set dates of a tour to keep him on track. And this trip was no tour. Just you and Roger, crossing a few European countries off your bucket list. You knew it was sometime before early June because that’s when you were due to switch accommodation but it took stopping in at a petrol station to know for sure. Roger refilled the rental car and you took the chance to stretch your legs, ducking inside the store. You were mentally weighing up whether you should buy more snacks or hold off until you reached the tourist spot you were planning on visiting when you saw the paper. A language you couldn’t understand but a few words jumped out and the date at the top of the paper. Your birthday. You found Roger as he finished paying for the fuel.

“I’m 22 today.”

“What?”

“It’s my birthday Rog,”

He stopped with the key in his hand, a look of concentration on his face as if he were trying to wrap his head around a maths problem, “Shit, is it? Happy birthday love. I should have got you something.”

“Don’t worry, I totally forgot it was today too.”

“D’you want a keychain with your name on it becasue I think I could get one of them inside.” He pointed back to the dingy store with his thumb but you just laughed and shook your head as you climbed into the passenger seat. Roger started the engine once more and you took off.

It was a peaceful drive, the radio playing recognisable pop music between bursts on conversation you couldn’t follow, fields of flowers passing by your window. It was wound down so your hair caught the breeze and you could smell the sweet aroma of the blooming fields muddled up with that of Roger’s last cigarette. You barely saw any other traffic, and what you did see was all headed in the opposite direction.

“Y’know, we don’t have to go see this ancient ruin thing,” Roger suddenly said, “we could do something else.”

“What else is around here?”

“Well,” his hand came to rest on your thigh.

You chuckled, “I should have known. What got you going this time? The hills kinda look like boobs, is that it?”

“No, Jesus,” he laughed, “nothing like that. Just thought it could be a fun way to celebrate your birthday.”

“Oh yeah?” You were interested but didn’t want to give in too quickly, “You really wanna drive all the way back to the house without anything to show of our day just to have the sex we’d probably end up having before bed anyway.”

“Two things. One, that makes us sound like the sort of couple that only has very predictable and boring sex because they’re desperately trying to keep the magic alive. And two, I never said we had to turn back.” His hand was still on your thigh, slowly moving higher.

“And where would you want it then?”

“Up your arse if your offering.” he turned to throw you a wink and pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, “Side of the road works for me, if you’re into it. No one else around. We could just pop into the backseat, christen the rental. And then we turn around, stop in at that bakery we passed closer to town and pick up some cupcakes or pastries or whatever they have. Take it back to the house where we can sit in the sun and eat it, maybe with a glass of champagne. Have an afternoon nap. And then when you’ve got your energy back I can wear you out again.”

“That your idea of a birthday present?”

“I’ll even tie a bow around my cock if you like,”

“Well it sounds fun but I don’t think I want to fuck in this car. Lord knows how many other perverts have driven it before us.”

“So should I turn around then?”

“Pull over.”

Roger grinned as he did what you asked, pulling up onto the grass beside the road, under the shade of a tree. You stretched your arms over your head as you got out of the car.

“You up to jumping a fence, Rog? Fuck me amongst the flowers?”

“I’m not getting a bee sting on my arse again,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. He let his hands fall to your arse and you expected him to kiss you. Instead you squealed in surprise as he picked you up and dropped you to sit on edge of the hood of the car. The quiet road was behind you as you leaned back on your hands, Roger’s fingers already unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down your legs.

“What if someone else uses this road?”

“They wont see us until they’re already passing us and then they’ll wonder if they saw us right. At worst we give someone wood while they drive.” He flung your jeans through the open door before finally leaning in to kiss you, smiling and eager. You snuck your hands down to grab his bum, giggling as his hips jolted forward.

“Ms needy,” he mumbled against your lips moving his hands down to his own pants, hastily undoing the fly and pushing them down to his knees.

“birthday, ‘m allowed,”

“s’pose,”

You let your legs fall open a little wider to accommodate Roger as he pulled your undies to the side and eased into you.

“Good girl, you okay?”

“Mmhmm, just,” you dropped your head forward onto his shoulder as you tried to adjust, “just give me a few seconds okay?”

“Take as long as you need love, the longer I get to be in your cunt the better,”

You groaned at that, louder than you meant but the road was still deserted so you didn’t mind. “fuck I – just fuck me Rog,”

“Yes ma’am,” his fist tightened suddenly in the back of your hair, pulling your head up so he could look at you as he pulled out a bit and then thrust back in. You gasped at the sensation, clutched at his shoulder to keep yourself steady as he repeated the motion again and again, gradually picking up the pace. Roger let you fall back against the hood, your back arching as you moaned for him. It left him free to push your legs even wider, to put more weight into each thrust, to rub your clit as he encouraged you to cum.

“That’s it love, sound so fucking hot. Gonna cum soon?”

“Y-yeah, yes,”

“Wanna feel you cum Y/N. T-then I’m – fuck – gon-gonna fill your tight f-fucking cunt, make you hold it all the wa-y home.”

Roger swore as you came, pulsing around him until he had no choice but to follow and make good on his promise. He leaned over you, one arm braced by the side of your head, as you both tried to breathe normally.

“You still with me love?” he asked softly, stroking your cheek until you opened your eyes again, “Ready to head back to the house?”

“Yeah, so ready,”

He dropped a kiss to your forehead before he carefully extracted himself from you. He pulled his pants up and then helped you with your underwear and gave you a hand to hop off the hood. You didn’t bother putting your jeans back on. Knowing Roger he’d try and make you cum again before you reached the bakery.

“Not how I expected today to go,” you laughed as Roger restarted the car and made a wide turn into the opposite lane.

“Think this might be a better plan than our original one.”

“Think you might be right,”

Roger laughed too, reaching over to give your thigh a quick squeeze, “happy birthday love.”

#my writing #my blurbs #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #sorry it's a little late #today was busy lmao #but this was fun #gonna try and have some more full rog fics up soon #Anonymous

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banshee1013 · 4 years

Text

Suptober Day 10 - Sweet Rides

OMG I GOT ONE DONE ON TIME (well, sorta, HAHA).

I finally managed to keep myself to a pencil drawing only, still took me 4 hours but I’m pretty pleased with it.

Then I stayed up until 1:30am finishing the fic - which was supposed to be a FICLET - 2k later! Oops.

Anyway, here’s Day Ten! Now to figure out what to do for tomorr... uh, later today, haha.

====================================

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

========================================================

CHAPTER FIVE - SWEET RIDES

Words: 2026

Dean’s fingers drum a one-handed beat on the steering wheel, keeping time with John Bonham coming over the speakers. His other hand, resting on the bench seat next to him, is loosely entwined with Cas’.

After their rainy weekend interlude at Rufus’ cabin, Cas has been extra hands-on; never out of contact with Dean in one way or another for very long - and Dean has zero complaints with this development.

Giving a quick squeeze, he disengages his hand from Cas’ and flips the turn signal, sliding over to the lane for I-5 North.

Cas up to this point has been focused on the passing scenery with half-lidded eyes and soft smile, quiet and seemingly lost in thought. Dean had squeezed his hand a few times during the eight hour drive from the cabin, checking to see if he’d dropped off, but every time Cas had turned to him, returning the squeeze; the look in his eyes full of love and warmth, and Dean will do anything to keep Cas looking at him like that.

This time, Cas turns to him, but his eyes are now full of curiosity.

“I-5 North? I thought you wished to go south after we reached the west coast?”

“Thought we’d make a pit stop first.” Dean smirked to himself, recalling the conversation with Sam yesterday when he’d called to check in and found out they were headed to Seattle.

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

“Seattle, huh? Helluva drive just to get some Starbucks!” Sam snorted, his voice echoing slightly with the speakerphone on so he can sign the conversation to Eileen.

“Haha, Sammy. No way am I getting Starbucks in Seattle - that’s like going to Italy and getting McDonalds.” Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder toward the bedroom, the Cas-shaped blanket-covered lump in the bed still unmoving, and silently cursed himself for not setting his phone on silent.

He desperately wanted to be back in there with him.

“So, everything alright? I gotta go, things to do.” More like someONE to do…

Sam did not sound convinced but didn’t push the issue. “Nah, all good here. Eileen and I are back at the bunker and just wanted to make sure you didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere.” Sam chuckles at his own joke, then continues, “Hey, I know where you should go… y’know, when you get to Seattle.”

Dean sighs - now that he knows nothing is wrong, he’s tempted feign a bad connection and hang up - but he’s genuinely curious to find out what Sam is going to suggest. “Yeah? Do tell.”

“You should get some Dick’s.”

“Hahaha very funny, “ Dean growls, and moves to hang up when Sam yells, “Wait, WAIT!”

“WHAT?” Dean grimaces at the volume of his voice and glances over at his shoulder again. Cas stirs and rolls over but doesn’t wake. “What?” he says again, quieter.

“I mean, you should go eat a Dick’s.” Sam giggles, and Dean hears Eileen's soft laugh in the background.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” Dean pulls the phone back from his ear once again and starts to hang up when he hears Eileen’s voice - “Dean, wait!”

With a mighty sigh, he puts the phone back to his ear and hears a smack in the background; an open palm against muscle and cloth, followed by Eileen’s voice: “Stop BEING a dick and tell him.”

“Okay, okay. You guys are no fun.” Sam speaks into the phone again. “It’s a fast food place out there. ‘Best burgers in America’ according to Esquire Magazine.”

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

Cas’ brow pinches in confusion and it’s still the most adorable thing ever. “Pit stop? Why are we stopping for pits?” His eyes narrow. “Are they peach pits? Do you need to distill cyanide from them?”

Dean can’t help himself - he outright guffaws. “No, no cyanide, why would I… I mean, we’re making a detour, stopping somewhere here in Seattle before heading south.”

“Ah, very well then.” Cas tilts his head. “Is it for coffee? I hear Starbucks is headquartered here, I suppose acquiring some from the original source might be interesting.”

“NO Starbucks… seriously, why does everyone…,” Dean pauses, then carefully schools his face into a serious expression, “We’re going for Dick’s.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“BURGERS!” Dean manages to gasp out as he gets the laughter under control. “It’s a burger place Sam told me about. ‘The most life-changing burger joint in America’ or so Esquire Magazine would have you believe.” Turning to Cas, he arches an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

~~~ *** ~~~

“What the… Cas, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No, it wasn’t from the burgers - Dean hadn’t even gotten to those yet. He’s not even sure if they can.

As they pulled into the parking area for Dick’s Drive-In, he had slammed on the brakes, Baby coming to a sudden stop with a squeal of rubber on pavement at the sight before him.

The parking lot was full - of Impalas.

Black 1967 Impalas to be exact. DOZENS of them, all in a row.

Some had their trunks open, the inside of the lids decorated with devil traps and wards. Others had green coolers nearby, identical to the one in his backseat.

The squeal of tires had drawn the attention of the people gathered around, and one in particular waves and makes his way over to them.

“Oh shit, no no no…” Dean mutters, then quickly plasters on a wan smile as the guy approaches his window and leans on the sill.

“Hey there, I”m Davis, President of the Seattle chapter of the Supernatural Haunted Impalas club.” Dean glanced down at the man’s outstretched hand, briefly considers peeling rubber out of the parking lot and reluctantly decides against it - the last thing they need is a APB out on them for decapitating a guy in full view of witnesses - and takes the guy’s hand.

“hi, uh… De.. Daniel. I”m Daniel… uh, Dan, and this is… “ Releasing the guy’s… Davis’... hand, he turns to Cas, eyes wide and imploring.

Thankfully, Cas gets it. “Calvin,” Cas says, taking Davis’ hand and giving it a solemn shake - up and down, twice, and a quick release - “You can call me Cal.”

Davis blinks, then gives them a broad smile. “Nice to meet you boys. We’re all just parked over there, find a spot and come say hi!” He leans back, his smile widening. “Nice cosplay, by the way - Dean, I presume, and you must be Endverse Cas, am I right?” He throws fingerguns and a wink before turning to head back to the group.

“We should leave… yeah, we should definitely get the HELL OUTTA HERE…” Dean looks over his shoulder, trying to figure out the quickest way to bail on the situation; but just then, a loud rumble erupts from Cas’ stomach.

“Dean…” Cas sighs. “I’m very hungry, and you promised me a life-changing burger.” He gestures at the group, many of whom are now actively watching them. “And they’ve already noticed us. We might as well go and order the burgers, and then make an excuse to leave.” He drops puppy-dog eyes to rival Sam’s, and Dean knows he has no recourse but to go through with the charade - at least long enough to get a burger.

“FINE. We’ll order the burgers, make nice with locals while they’re cookin’, and then get the hell outta Dodge.”

Dean pulls into a spot at the end of the long line of Baby Wanna-Be’s. No sooner had they climbed out and closed the doors, a bubbly brunette bounces over to them.

“Hey guys, you look great! And wow, your Baby is GORGEOUS! What’s her name?” She claps a hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh, of course, I shouldn’t assume gender. What’s your Baby’s name?”

Dean’s lips part but nothing comes out, at a loss for words - then, “Baby.”

The bouncy brunette blinks, then nods, the smile returning. “Uh, great! Awesome!” She extends her hand. “I’m Brittany, and this is my girl, Gertrude,” indicating the Impala parked next to them.

Dean has to admit - Gertrude is in great shape. “Hi, Brittany, I”m De… Dan.” He passes an admiring gaze over the car. “She’s beautiful.”

Brittany blushes fiercely. “Thank you so much! She’s my pride and joy.”

Dean can’t help but grin - he gets it. “I know how you feel.” He starts toward the car, his interest piqued now.

Cas grabs his elbow. “Dean… uh, DAN,” he stammers. “We should order our food first.”

“Oh, right! Of course.” He turns back to Brittany. “Give us a moment? We’re starving.”

Brittany nods like her head is on a swivel. “OH of course! We’re not going anyway, go feed your boyfriend!” She turns back to Gertrude and strikes up a conversation with another couple.

They make their way to the order counter with no further distractions and order their food, both choosing the “Dick’s Deluxe” with fries and milkshakes, then wander over to the group of Impala owners.

By the time their food is ready, Dean is genuinely surprised at how much fun he’s actually having - the Impala owners are friendly and really know their cars, the pride of ownership evident - and Dean can’t help but respect that. However, they of course are also just as fanatical about Chuck’s books, which Dean struggles to hide his discomfort with.

As they head back to the counter to pick up their food, Dean turns to Cas. “I dunno about all this, Cas - they’re really into Chuck’s books and they have no idea what a tool he was.” His head drops with a sigh. “Should we tell them?”

“No, Dean.” Cas looks back over his shoulder at the group, their laughter and happy voices carrying across the parking lot. “They’re happy; the books have brought them together, given them friendship - a family, even.” He shakes his head. ‘Chuck used those words to manipulate you, but they have no power over you - over US - anymore. This way, they serve a good purpose.”

Dean blinks - he hadn’t thought of it that way. Of course Cas is right.

“Yeah... and look at all the sweet rides that came from them!”

~~~ *** ~~~

They gather their food order and head back to say their goodbyes, but the group appear to be packing up anyway - trunks being closed and coolers returned to their backseats.

Davis approaches them. “Hey guys… we’re about to head out, but we’re only going over to Golden Gardens Park to watch the sunset and hang out around the fire pits. You’re welcome to join.” He nudges Dean with his elbow. “The group’s really taken a shine to you,” he says with a bright grin, “and your Baby, of course.”

Dean turns to Cas, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Whadda ya say, sweetheart? Our first sunset…” he shakes the bag of food in his other hand, “and dinner on the West Coast?”

“I would love to, Dean.” Cas’ eyes are bright, his smile soft and warm and Dean really wants to kiss him right now, but… company.

“Adorable,” Davis says, hands clasped in delight. “I love how you two stay so in character.”

~~~ *** ~~~

The last rays of the sun slip behind the Olympic Mountains, but Dean is watching Cas watch the sunset.

He’ll never get tired of the look of wonder on Cas’ face when he experiences new things.

Or for that matter, the sounds he makes, either. Listening to him moan through that admittedly fantastic burger was downright pornographic.

He places a hand on Cas’ fire-warmed cheek and turns him away from the dimming horizon.

Damn the company. He’s gonna kiss his boyfriend.

He tastes the salt from the fries, the sharp vinegar of the pickles, the rich savory flavor of the burger, the lingering sweetness of the milkshake.

He tastes the unique flavor of Cas and relishes it.

Cas threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Dean’s neck and tilts his head just so and oh, it’s so, so good.

He hears a few giggles and more than a couple “awws” and pays them no mind.

He’s way too busy thinking about a completely different type of sweet ride.

#suptober20 #Day10 #art #fic #destiel #saileen

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Accident Forgiveness - Part 2 - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part One | Masterlist

A/N: Part two!! This is so very fun to write. I hope you enjoy! Thanks to @sabinemorans for listening to me talk about it! Reader gets a nickname in this one, because I can’t deal with Y/N.

Summary: Your wrist is finally healed after your run-in with a certain brooding freight train. You score a great deal on an adorable little motorbike and fix it up with your dad. All you want is a nice Sunday ride...what could go wrong?

Warnings: Fluff, Crack, automobile accidents...

---

The bike calls to you. It’s leaning up against a garage with a hand-written “For Sale” sign on it. It looks old, rusted, and well-used. Considering the low price scrawled on the sign you’re betting it needs some work.

You need it.

You pull out your phone and open your frequent contacts.

“Hey dad? How would you feel about coming down to the city with your pick-up this weekend?”

Your dad’s gruff voice rumbles over the line, “Sounds awful. When and where?”

---

You spend the weekend at your dad’s place in White Plains, fixing up the bike in the garage. Under the layers of rust and grime, it turns out to be a 2001 Honda Super Cub. Beyond a tune up and an oil change, the only thing really wrong with it is the body. Nothing a fresh coat of paint can’t fix.

“This is a nice little bike, kiddo,” your dad congratulates you, wiping grease and sweat from his brow with an old rag. “You gonna keep it here or ride it around the city?”

You’re perched on a tall stool at your dad’s workbench, your short legs dangling as you consider, “It’d be fun to have it with me in the city on the weekends. I just gotta convince my landlord to let me keep it in his storage shed...I don’t want to leave it on the street…”

You hop off the stool to run your hand over the motorcycle’s refinished body. You’ve painted it in a sleek two-tone pattern: red and cream. Hawkguy is going to be so jealous.

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

---

“Nah,” Clint waves you off as he unlocks the door to his apartment. You’ve been lurking out in the hallway waiting for him to get home.

“What do you mean, ‘nah’?” you whine, following him inside without asking. Pizza Dog jumps up to greet you, nearly knocking you down in his enthusiasm. You smile and give him a quick hug before starting again. “You still owe me, Barton!”

Clint’s head has disappeared into the refrigerator and he emerges with a Chinese food box and his mouth already stuffed with lo mein.

“Wahhh doo eein?!” he chews his food, swallowing and trying again, “Whadya mean? I threw you an apology party, didn’t I? You know how long it’ll take me to clean out that shed to fit a motorcycle inside?”

“C’mon, Clint! If I leave it on the street it’ll get stolen. Or it’ll end up collateral damage in one of your little superhero battles,” you wheedle. You walk into the kitchenette and grab his arm, looking up at him with your biggest puppy dog eyes, “C’monnnn!”

Clint sighs dramatically and finally gives in.

“On one condition...”

---

The bike struggles to reach 30 miles per hour under your combined weight and Clint’s massive form looks ridiculous clinging to you on the back of the little motor bike. But you have to admit--this is pretty damn fun.

“Weee!” Clint yells from behind you as you putter through the streets of Brooklyn with a giant smile on your face.

---

People are passing you and giving you dirty looks as you make your way over the Brooklyn Bridge. Well, futz them. You’re enjoying your Sunday afternoon ride. You feel like a real rebel without a cause in your worn leather jacket and the bulbous, cherry red helmet you bought to match your bike. Nobody needs to know the saddle bag strapped to the back is full of library books and a take-out container from your favorite bakery.

The sun is just getting low and it’s orange-red glow reflects on the surface of the East River as you chug along. The sounds of car engines and the occasional curse from an annoyed motorist are suddenly interrupted by a long, deafening screech. You glance over your shoulder and your eyes widen in alarm as a black SUV barrels through traffic, heedlessly colliding with other vehicles as it clears a path over the bridge.

“HOLY SH--”

The SUV screams past and you barely have time to process what you’re seeing before you’re suddenly, brutally thrown from your bike. You tuck your limbs into your body and slam into the cement with enough force to knock the wind out of you. You roll several feet before skidding to a stop. The leather jacket mostly saves you from road rash but your hands are a bloody mess and it feels like your whole middle is one big bruise. What the fuck was that? It felt almost like someone pushed you off but that’s--

You look up just in time to see your bike zooming--well, doing it’s best to zoom--away with a dark figure riding it.

Oh, hell no!

---

The red-wigged impostor is in handcuffs and leaning against the side of the SUV with a surly expression. Bucky glares at the woman, clearly connected with the Red Room and attempting to frame Natasha for the string of murders she committed over the last week.

“Don’t feel like talking, huh?” he shrugs, removing a knife from his belt and flipping it expertly in his hand. “Don’t worry, mladshaya sestra...I’ll help you find the words.”

The woman refuses to meet his eyes, fixing her gaze in the middle distance instead. Only the faintest sneer curling her lips indicates that she’s heard him at all.

Sam lands gracefully a few feet away and is already talking into his ear piece to call in backup.

“Lotta damage, here,” he states, glancing around at the crashed cars and the wrecked motorcycle. “You’re almost as bad as Banner, Buck. Think you can manage one mission without smashing something?”

“Hey, I captured the target, didn’t I?” Bucky rolls his eyes and slips the knife back into his belt holster.

Clint finally arrives, huffing and puffing after trying to keep up with the super soldier. He’s bent almost double, catching his breath, when his eyes light on the familiar red and cream motor bike lying mangled on the ground.

“Hey...isn’t that--?”

All three superhero’s heads snap up as you come limping up to the scene. You’re carrying your helmet at your side and your hair is an impressive tangle whipping around your head in the breeze. When you lay eyes on the wrecked Super Cub you let out a shriek.

“MY BIKE!!”

Bucky freezes in place, his eyes wide and every muscle tensed in anxiety.

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” he mumbles under his breath.

Clint eyes him accusingly. He is never going to hear the end of this…

You stand there looking down at your ruined bike and thinking about all the adventures you’d planned to have with her. You were going to take her to Coney Island...Rockaway beach...maybe even take a road trip to the Berkshires… Your poor sweet Cubby didn’t ask for this!

“You!” you snarl, marching up to Bucky with your hands on your hips. “Why is it always you!? Do you have it out for me or something?”

Clint snorts and mutters, “He’s got somethin’ for you…”

“SHUT UP!” you and Bucky both yell simultaneously.

You turn back to Bucky and arch your brow in expectation, “Well?”

The super-spy ex-assassin Avenger stumbles over his words, “I--uh, well...I didn’t mean...I didn’t know it was--”

“Didn’t know it was ME?” you finish for him with renewed fury. “Bucky! You can’t just go around shoving people off their motorcycles!”

“‘S hardly a motorcycle…,” he mumbles angrily. “More of a scooter if anything.”

“You! You...ugh!” you fall on him in a flurry of practically useless punches aimed at his chest. Bucky stands there looking bemused as you rain down fury with your tiny fists on his solid, immovable muscles.

“Hey!” Clint shouts in an excellent approximation of a frustrated dad voice. “Enough! Don’t do a hit on Bucky! That’s not nice.”

He puts his arms around you from behind and drags you away from the super soldier who looks--infuriatingly--unscathed.

“But he stole my bike and wrecked it!” you whine, finally going limp and dropping from Clint’s hold.

Clint rolls his eyes to the sky like a martyr.

“And do two wrongs make a right, young lady?”

“Pshh,” you scoff, shaking your head and leaning over your bike to check the saddle bag. You flip it open to find that the box containing your cherry pie has been pulverized and…

“MY LIBRARY BOOKS!!!”

---

The next morning you’re awoken by the cacophony of sounds coming from the alleyway behind the building. It sounds like Monty Python building the frickin’ Trojan Rabbit. You growl and roll out of bed, falling to the floor and catching yourself on your bandaged hands, cursing at the stinging pain.

“Stupid…’vengers...think they can do whatever they want...just cuz they save the world sometimes…” you’re muttering under your breath as you stagger to your feet and pull the cord on your blinds to look out your bedroom window.

The door to the supply shed is open and two guys are bent over your wrecked bike. You throw the window open in an instant and climb out onto the fire escape.

“Hey!” you bellow. “Uh--stop! That’s my bike! I know the Avengers, buds! And I can have them down here so fast--”

The two men crane their necks to look up at you. One of them is wearing a welding mask but the other one is definitely--

“Bucky?”

He looks up at you with a sheepish smile and gives a little wave with his metal hand.

“Hey, Kit Kat…” he greets and you frown in confusion until you look down and realize you’re wearing a baggy nightshirt you’d got at Hershey Park. It’s emblazoned with the Kit Kat logo. Even from two stories up you can see the gleam of humor in his eyes. You can also see...a lot more. He’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his impossibly toned shoulders and back. Your brain short circuits momentarily as you rake your eyes down his form.

The man beside him flips up the mask and you see he’s an older guy with a sharp goatee.

“Are we taking a social break or are we getting to work, Barnes? You know I gave up brunch to do this for you. Brunch,” the man voice drips with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright, Tony,” Bucky shakes his head and turns back to the bike.

Wait, Tony as in--?

“Hey!” you call down and Bucky lifts his head up to lock eyes with you. How can those blue eyes still have so much power from so far away?? “You still owe me for the library books!”

Bucky laughs and turns back to the bike.

“I mean it! I have a clean library record, Bucky! I’m gonna have fines!”

“Don’t push it, doll!” he calls as Tony ignites the blow torch.

---

A week later you scoot up to the curb on a side street near the Bedford Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library. Cubby has been restored to her former glory thanks to Bucky and Tony’s loving care and you give her an affectionate pat as you dismount and walk down the street toward the squat, brick library building. There may be grander libraries in New York but this is your neighborhood branch and it feels like home. You mutter and shake your head at the prospect of having to pay replacement fines for the books that Bucky ruined.

The librarian behind the desk is about your age with dyed bright red hair and a sleeve of tattoos that look like children’s book illustrations. Cool.

“Hey--um,” you roll your eyes in irritation at yourself. “I have to pay some replacement fees? I kind of...got cherry pie all over some books.”

The librarian laughs good-naturedly and pulls up your account on her computer. She asks you for the titles and frowns at her screen.

“Looks like...yeah--they’ve already been paid for,” she tells you with a shrug. “Guess you have a mysterious benefactor.”

You smile faintly and shake your head. Mysterious, my ass. You thank her and you’re about to leave when she stops you.

“Do you want to pick up your hold?”

You don’t remember putting anything on hold...but you’ve had occasional bouts of late-night enthusiasm that resulted in excessive library catalog searches, maybe you forgot...

“Uh...sure,” you say and watch as she disappears into an office behind the circulation desk.

She returns a few minutes later with a slim paperback volume in her hands. She scans the barcode and slips the receipt into the book.

“Enjoy!” she says with a smile and you thank her once again.

You glance down at the cover as you’re walking out and you let out a bark of laughter even as irritation spikes behind your eyes.

“Motorcycle Safety: Basics for Beginners”

Bucky Frickin’ Barnes...

Tags: @watsonwise

A/N: “Don’t do a hit on Bucky”-- yes that was a McElroy reference.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #hawkeye #hawkguy #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfic #chelsfic

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chicgeekgirl89 · 4 years

Text

Country Roads, Take Me Home: Chap. 1

Fandom: NCIS LA

Characters: Marty Deeks, Kensi Blye

Summary: It's summer, which means Kensi and Deeks are once again off on the summer vacation adventure of a lifetime. This year they've got the perfect plan and nothing can stop them. Well...almost nothing. The fourth installment of the Densi Summer Vacation Series!

A/N: It is SUMMER! This story takes place in a universe where Covid-19 doesn't exist because I just couldn't write a bummer story like that. Huge shouts out to @mashmaiden who gave me the idea for this fic. Off they go!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“So, where you two headed on vacation?” Sam asked, accepting another beer from Kensi who was behind the bar.

“Nowhere,” she said, wiping down a wet spot on the counter. “We’re just staying home.”

“For two weeks?” Callen asked in surprise. “No way.”

Kensi paused her cleaning. “What do you mean ‘no way’?”

“The two of you can’t even last two minutes at work without something to do? What are you going to do at home for two weeks?” Sam scoffed.

“I don’t know,” Kensi said, raising her eyebrows in annoyance. “It’s a staycation, we can do whatever we want.”

“Like drive each other crazy,” Sam said while Callen snickered.

“We can go to the beach,” Kensi protested. “And take Monty for walks.”

“That’s it? The beach and walks?” Callen said.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t know how to take a vacation,” Kensi said with a glare.

“Neither do you,” Sam said. “Or have you forgotten how the last, what is it now, three, vacations have gone for you?”

“Which is why we are staying home this year.” Kensi glared at both of them. “So stop making fun of us or I’ll send Deeks over for a playdate with your boat.”

“Speaking of which, where is Deeks?” Callen asked, looking around for their absent teammate. “Can’t really go on vacation without him.” He thought for a second. “Actually maybe that would be better.”

Kensi frowned and checked her watch. “He said he had to run an errand but that was like three hours ago.”

She reached for her phone. Deeks left unsupervised could cause as much trouble as a toddler. “Deeks? Where are you?”

“Just got back,” he said. “Can you come outside for a second?”

She knew that voice. Oh god she knew that voice. That was Deeks’, “I did something that I think will be a fun surprise but you potentially might hate” voice. She gripped her phone tightly and closed her eyes. “Deeks, what did you do?”

“Just come outside!”

She hung up and looked at Sam and Callen. “He says he’s outside.”

The three of them wandered out the front door to the street. “Where?” Callen asked.

Kensi looked up and down the sidewalk, her nerves increasing when she didn’t spot her husband. She was reaching for her phone to call him again when all three of them were startled by the blast of an obnoxiously loud horn. “What the hell?” Sam asked, looking down the street as a massive RV barreled toward them. “Somebody win the Price is Right?”

“Oh no,” Kensi breathed.

Callen looked from Kensi to the RV that was pulling up in front of them. “Oh…he wouldn’t. Would he?”

The RV came to a stop and the door opened to reveal a grinning, elated Marty Deeks.

“Deeks. Baby. What is this?” Kensi asked faintly.

“It’s an RV!” He looked like a kid in a candy store.

“I thought we talked about making large purchases without discussing it first after the whole bar incident,” she said, trying very hard not to unleash on him.

“I didn’t buy it,” he said quickly. “It’s a rental. And I got a really good deal. But totally refundable. I just thought maybe once you saw it…”

“That I would want to move to a trailer park?” Kensi asked.

“No! No,” Deeks shook his head. “You said that you would like to see all the National Parks in an RV. And since we have PTO and we have to take the days I thought this might be the time.”

“I thought you two were staying home this year to avert any more vacation disasters,” Sam said with a frown.

“Aha, see that’s the beauty of it. No hotel. No cruise ship. No plane flight. Our RV home is our own home. We’ve taken all danger and disaster out of the vacation and put the control completely in our own hands.”

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” Sam said, unconvinced.

“Hey Deeks.” Callen had gone inside to explore and now poked his head out a window. “This thing have wifi?”

“Yep! And surround sound. All the bells and whistles.”

“Don’t get any ideas G,” Sam called. “You already live in a bar apartment, you don’t need to take your life mobile.”

“It’s just a thought,” Callen said with a shrug before disappearing once more.

“Deeks I—“ Kensi didn’t quite know what to say.

He stepped toward her, eyes serious. “Kens listen, we don’t have to do this. If it’s too much, or not what you want, we can stay home, no harm no foul. I just thought it might be fun. Obviously we can’t do all the national parks in two weeks, but we could hit a few.”

She looked into his eyes, so earnest and eager. He truly had put this together out of the goodness of his heart, not some kind of whim like the bar. And it was a trip they’d talked about quite a bit. Besides, like he’d said, everything would be under their own control. It would be perfectly safe. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” His eyes lit with excitement.

“Yes, let’s go RV’ing and see the National Parks.”

“Awesome! Yes. Okay. So we need to pack and get snacks and drop Monty at my mom’s and we can leave in the morning.”

“Oh, wow, oh yeah okay.”

She had to admit, when Deeks brought her inside the RV it was pretty cool. It was certainly roomy enough for the two of them, the bed was gigantic and it even had a decent sized shower. It would be fun to road trip together and see a little bit of the country they helped keep safe every day.

They encountered their first problem almost immediately: Deeks hadn’t thought about where to park the RV overnight. “I’ll just put it in the driveway,” Deeks told her as they prepared to leave the bar.

“Babe, it’s not going to fit in the driveway.”

“We have a big driveway.”

“Not big enough to fit an RV the size of a dinosaur.”

“It’ll fit,” he said confidently.

It did not fit. “What if I turn it this way?” Deeks yelled out the window and made a wild spinning motion with his hand.

“I don’t think so—“

“I’m going to try it!” he yelled, cranking the wheel and backing up about four inches. “Am I going to hit the planters?”

Kensi looked to where the flowers she’d laboriously tended all spring in an effort to prove she was not a plant killer were in clear danger of being run over. “Uh, yeah! Don’t back up anymore!”

“Crap! Okay I’m going to pull forward and then try and go the other way!”

“If you go the other way you’re going to hit the mailbox!”

Deeks swore loudly, catching the attention of Mrs. Bradford who was walking her dog nearby. Kensi gave her a wave and a forced smile. “Sorry Mrs. Bradford!”

The woman shot her a disapproving glare. “Deeks, maybe we should just take it back to the bar,” Kensi said with a sigh.

“We can’t leave this baby at the bar!” Deeks said. “Somebody might take her!”

“Her?”

“It!”

“Right. Well I really don’t think it’s going to fit.”

“Kensi, I’m telling you, it’ll fit.”

“Okay. Fine. Make it fit.”

Forty-five minutes later Deeks climbed out and surveyed his handiwork. “See? Fits like a glove.”

The RV was diagonal across the driveway, the front wheels gouged into the earth by the garage, the back end hanging off the curb and dangling into the street. Kensi had moved the planters and she wasn’t sure the mailbox would ever recover. “Yep, it fits,” she said.

“Hey.” Deeks reached for her hand. “This is going to be a fun adventure. You trust me right?”

“With my life? Yes. With driving this thing across the country?” She raised her eyebrows. “Jury’s still out.”

“Just think about it this way, everywhere else we drive will be built for RV’s. If I can park it here, I can park it anywhere.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Do you not want to go?” Deeks asked. “Because we really don’t have to. I can take this thing back tomorrow and we can spend two weeks sitting around here drinking piña coladas and watching trashy television.”

She looked at the crooked RV and back at him. “No, let’s do it. I’m ready for an adventure.”

“Okay great because I’ve got it all mapped out.”

They went into the house and he pulled out a map. “We are using technology on this trip right?” Kensi asked a little anxiously. “I thought you said that thing had wifi.”

“It does. The map is just for planning purposes,” he told her. “Okay, so we’re going to start here in LA and then drive up north to Yosemite. Then we head to Nevada and hit Great Basin National Park. Then Arches in Utah, Colorado Rocky Mountain, and Yellowstone in Wyoming. And finally to Crater Lake in Oregon and then home.”

Kensi’s eyebrows had risen the entire time he was speaking. “That’s a really ambitious list babe.”

“Well, it’s just a start. We can take things off if we get too busy or end up somewhere different.”

She looked down at the map, fingers tracing the path he’d drawn. “We’re going to need a lot of snacks.”

#NCIS LA #Marty Deeks #Kensi Blye #Densi #Densi Summer Vacation #Country Roads Take Me Home #Chapter 1 #Fanfic #NCIS LA Fanfic #NCIS Los Angeles #Densi Fanfic #Here they go again

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jenoptimist · 4 years

Text

rest assured, you would never trust a telepath again

The way the cold air wrapped itself around you had you shivering, hunching your shoulders into youself in a feeble attempt to trap in any traces of heat. What you were wearing was no help as it differed from your usual cozy attire. The outfit you wore was extra special since it was the night of the grand award ceremony that Chenle was nominated in. Your boyfriend had been raving about it for weeks on end and you knew he deserved it because you witnessed first-hand how hard he worked.

In the distance, you could see the tall building that it would be hosted in and you thanked the gods above. In any other circumstance, Chenle would have picked you up and the two of you would go to the venue together. This time, however, you were arriving on your own because of a hiccup that happened at your store. It was as if events kept piling on today and what made it worse was that your taxi dropped you off at least four blocks away from the venue because of the traffic. You should have just apparated there like you had originally planned.

A shot of irritation ran through you when someone pushed into you as they made their way down the opposite direction. The sidewalk wasn’t even crowded! They just had to bump into you, didn’t they? If you were a worse person, you would have hexed them but seeing as you weren’t taught to use your magick for such petty purposes, you bit your tongue and trudged forward. You really couldn’t wait to be in the comrforting presence of your boyfriend.

“Hey!” A man yelled from behind you and you chose to ignore him since he may have been calling out to someone else but walked a tad bit faster, just in case–you never know what could happen, especially if he was magically inclined. “Hey! Excuse me!” A large hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. Without a moment of hesitation, you mumbled a spell that had the stranger be shoved backwards, falling on his back. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” He said loudly.

Old friend? You had a strong connection with most of your friends, even the ones that were overseas, and this guy? This guy with his half-up half-down hairdo was someone that you definitely didn’t have a connection with because you most certainly did not know him.

‘Please trust me. Someone’s following you,’ his voice rang in your head and it took all your power not to jump. Telepaths weren’t people you came across by regularly since those possessing the ability was thought to have died out, allegedly due to madness. Although you weren’t entirely sure. ‘If you don’t believe me, check the other side of the road. There’s someone lurking at the end of the block.’

Tru to his word when you followed his instruction, hastily sneaking a glance at the direction he told you, you did find someone there. It felt like your blood ran cold. How long had that person been following you? How did you not notice? The more questions that popped up, the more ill you were starting to feel.

“Not going to help me up?” The stranger chided, a chuckle following his words as he stood up. ‘I’m going to hug you now, alright? It’s all for appearances’ sake.’ You followed his chuckle, which sounded robotic to your own ears, and gave a terse nod.

After letting he let you go, you made a big show of greeting him. “Wow, it’s been so long! I haven’t seen you since, what, you left to go study abroad? How have you been?” He played along, smoothly wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he whisked you away from the area. “Are you headed to the award ceremony, too?” You asked, noting how his attire was similar to yours.

“Yeah, I’m actually one of the nominees. Figured you were as well ‘cause of what you’re wearing.” Hyunjin admitted as he dropped his arm from you shoulder and offered his elbow to you instead, which you declined. You had just arrived at the entrance and you didn’t want Chenle to get the wrong idea if he saw the two of you arriving together, arm in arm. Especially since he didn’t know who Hyunjin even was.

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “bragging are we?” You teased as you handed your jacket to the staff. The two of you were directed to the reception area that was buzzing with chatter. Scanning the crowd, you were quick to find your boyfriend, his bright orange hair highlighting him among the natural colors and random spots of blues, purples and greens. Just as you were to say goodbye to that man that had helped you, he steered you away and directed you to a group of people with an arm around your waist.

“These are my friends,” Hyunjin said before he began introducing them to you one by one. You tried to remain pleasant, shooting them friendly smiles, but all you wanted to do was shove his arm away from your face and run over to your boyfriend. Chenle’s eyes were definitely the ones you were feeling at the back of your head. “This is y/n. They’re–”

“Sweetheart.” A voice cut in. You almost sagged in relief when the arm around your waist was replaced with a more familiar one. There was a level of wrongness that you were feeling but without your familiar, a cute black cat that you doted on, you couldn’t be too sure. Hyunjin seemed like a nice enough guy, though, so maybe it was the effect of knowing that someone was following you. After a quick kiss to your forehead, Chenle added, “You’re finally here.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied as you leaned into him, “there was a bit of a situation.”

Concern etched itself on you boyfriend’s features immediately. “What! What happened? Are you okay?” He was looking for any indicators that you were harmed, eyes wildly scanning you from head to toe.

Before you could even begin to explain what had happened, including how your day started off terrible, Hyunjin beat you to it and began relaying the situation that played out.

Chenle’s smile seemed pleasant when Hyunjin finished speaking but there was a tick in his jaw that you recognized immediately. “Thanks for helping. We appreciate.” And with that he spun the two of you around and lead you to the rest of your coven.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered to Chenle as Donghyuck began a dramatic re-telling of how Minhyung messed up the potion they were working on for weeks.

“There’s something off about him.”

“Who? Hyunjin?” Your boyfriend nodded. “He seems harmless to me.” On your walk on the way over, he was full of bright smiles and loud laughter. Yes, it could be said that he was suspicious because he just happened to be going to the same destination as you were, but you could rule it as coincidence. Or fate.

Chenle’s brows furrowed, his mouth twisting. “I don’t know. I don’t trust him.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about because I probably won’t see him again after tonight,” you kissed his neck, just below his ear. “Now forget about him and let’s enjoy tonight.”

You were wrong, of course, because the gods loved playing games with you. Two weeks after Chenle won the award for the category that he was nominated in, the telepath walked into your small store. You were in the middle of re-arranging a few bits and pieces when you heard the bell ring and when you looked over to acknowledge them, you were surprised to find him by the counter. Hyunjin held his face in the palm of his hands, looking at you with a goofy smile.

“Hey,” he sang, watching as you took the crystals that were misplaced by a customer and walked over to the counter. “Busy?”

Remembering that your boyfriend was weary of them man, you told yourself that you would act cordial but with caution. “Not today.”

Hyunjin hummed. “Let’s have lunch! I’ll treat you!”

You almost dropped the crystal you were holding in shock. Hyunjin was very straightforward and if you were the witch you were a handful of years ago, single and desparate for love, you would have swooned at such an attractive guy being as bold as he was. A telepath, too. Other witches were a dime a dozen and being one yourself meant that you weren’t particularly curious about them. Younger you would have probably tripped over your feet in hasty agreement. But, again, that was you in the past. The you in the present was no longer looking for love because you found it in Chenle, who loved you endlessly and never failed to remind you that he did.

“I don’t know,” you replied, “there’s other stuff that I have to do.” You weren’t good at making up excuses on the spot and you were sure that it was very obvious. Judging by the way he chuckled, he caught it.

“Aw come on! Please?” At this point your familiar, Beans, had stopped prowling the area and hopped onto the counter. There was an odd atmosphere in the air when he did, staring at Hyunjin intensely. The man looked at Beans and when they met eyes, the air disappeared and your familiar settled, curling in on herself. “It’ll be fun!”

Eventually, you gave in. There wasn’t much to do, anyway, and, well, you were your own boss so nobody would be on your tail for closing up shop early. Hyunjin really was harmless; he was sweet, funny and had a boyish charm to him. In fact, he becomes a regularly presence in your shop. He embedded himself into your life easily, meeting up for coffee or lunch frequently, watching a new movie in the cinema every now and again, and a lot of the time he helped you around the shop. Whatever wariness you were holding quickly evaporated the more the two of you spent time together.

The reason why you were with Hyunjin more often was because Chenle was busy. He was off working on more potions and the like so that he can get more recognition. As much as you supported him and wanted him to thrive, you missed the days where he would surprise you with lunch that he made, or when the two of you would go on spontaneous dates. He never had time for that anymore, any time for you, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him how you were feeling because it was selfish. His work was something he took pride in and you didn’t want to distract him from it just because you were feeling lonely.

It wasn’t just Chenle, however. All of your other friends had very demanding jobs too, so nobody really had time for each other anymore.

When you and Chenle finally had time for each other, it didn’t go like you though it would. It was the first time you saw him in almost three weeks and the first thing you did was argue. At first, it was over something small that you were willing to overlook because you knew how snarky he got when he was tired. But then it escalated and escalated and escalated and soon you found yourselves trying to shout above one another. It was brutal. The two of you had never had an argument like this and the night that you planned including lots of cuddles and movies was long forgotten.

“Lele, please,” you sighed once silence took over. Your throat felt raw and you were tired. A cute night in with your boyfriend was all you wanted but apparently that was too much to ask. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

That elicited a scoff from him. “Spend time with me? What, have you gotten sick of that telepath?” At the surprised look that you gave him, he laughed. It was bitter and ugly and it was something that you never wanted to hear again. “Yeah, I know that you’ve been spending all your time with him,” he looked at his fingers. “He’s dangerous, y/n, I–”

“Dangerous? Chenle, he is not dangerous!” Your boyfriend scoffed again and you couldn’t believe that you were arguing over your new friend. You were so over it. At that point you just wanted to curl up in bed and try to sleep, maybe your dreams could offer some happiness. In the heat of the moment you said, “Hyunjin makes time for me. Which is more than I can say about you.”

“I make time for you, y/n.” Chenle answered, eyes hard.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” you retorted, “I haven’t seen you in weeks! And now that we can actually be together, we’re arguing! Gods, Chenle!” You sighed heavily. “I think you should go. We can talk when we’ve both cooled down.”

Your boyfriend stared at you intensely, a tick in his jaw, before nodding curtly at you. The moment he left, you fell back on your couch. The night was a disaster and you would definitely need to talk to clear the air, but for now you would eat some of the cupcakes you bought earlier and watch some romcom movies.

Beans curled up by your feet and you bent down to scratch behind her ear, holding back the tears that were welling in your eyes. She has been weirdly silent recently. While she was no means a chatterbox, she did enjoy adding comments every now and again. It often had you stifling a giggle so that your customers wouldn’t know that your familiar feeding you her opinion of them in your mind. She was a fiery one and you loved her for it.

Two hours into your romcom movie marathon, you vaguely heard the door open. Strangely, the wards you placed hadn’t alerted you that someone was at the door like it normally did. Maybe the boys were pranking you again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Honey, is that you?” You called out, pausing the movie. Secretly, you hoped that it was. You wanted so badly to make up with him, the guilt had began eating you up minutes after he left your apartment. “Chenle?”

‘Guess again.’

You had time to let out a scream before you became unconscious.

When you woke up, your eyes had trouble adjusting in the darkness. Your mind raced. Chenle was right. Hyunjin was dangerous. Why hadn’t you listened to him? What did the telepath even want from you? You had nothing to your name apart from your small store. Unless he was actually targeting your boyfriend. You felt faint at the thought.

The shackles on your wrists were cool against your skin as was the metal chair you were confined in. You mumbled an incantation in hopes that you could escape which resulted in nothing. The shackles were most likely created with something that disabled your magick. A curse escaped your lips.

When the door opened, the lights turned on and you saw Hyunjin step inside with the a group of people that you vaguely recognized as the men he introduced you to before. You regarded them coldly but gave the telepath a look of betrayal.

The man himself smirked at you as he began to ramble, something that was reminiscent of a villain’s monologue that was shown in children’s movies. The other boys were in agreement with him as he told you about his plan of getting close to you and then, once he had gained your trust, would swipe you away from Chenle. This plan that he created was made for petty reasons, mostly to do with the fact that he wanted to see your boyfriend, his long-time opponent, crumble to pieces.

By the time he finished, you were left speechless. Did he really want Chenle to fail so bad? Why couldn’t he just take it as healthy competition? Before you could even open your mouth to say something, anything, there was a cloud of smoke by the door and there was Chenle in all his glory. His eyes were glowing like they always did when he used his magick. From behind him, you could see the rest of the boys, their colorful hair a comforting sight.

They made quick work of defeating the small crowd that Hyunjin was with, Chenle was especially lethal and in all the years that you knew him, all the years that you were together, you never once saw him like that–scarily cold and ruthless. By the time he reached you, he wasted no time breaking the shackles and hoisting you in his arms even though you were perfectly capable with walking. With a nod to your friends, he apparated the two of you out of there.

Neither of you made a sound as Chenle made another round of checking you for any injuries. You sustained none except for the slight discoloration on your wrists which was fine because you were able to accelerate your healing by making some tea with a lot of the herbs that you owned.

“I’m alright honey,” you assure for the nth time. “No injuries.”

“Still,” he muttered, “I could’ve lost you.”

You grabbed his balled fists in your hands and pressed a kiss into his knuckles. “But you didn’t,” another kiss and then, “now, we need to talk about our argument and how you knew Hyunjin was dangerous.”

Chenle frowned. “You were right about me not spending time with you anymore. And I’m sorry I started the argument. I found that you were hanging out him with all the time and I got jealous. I also just knew that when the two of you came in together during the award ceremony that something was wrong. Especially when you said that your day was horrible. Hyunjin has been experimenting with dark magick recently but I wasn’t sure until I caught him working on his upcoming project.”

“Oh,” that was a bit of a shock and your mind was getting dizzy at the sudden turn of events. “Well, I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty awful stuff that I didn’t mean. I don’t mind that we don’t see each other as much because I know that your work is important but it gets lonely, you know?”–he nodded–“And I should have listened to you when you said something was off about him.” Beans walking around Chenle’s legs, like she was begging for attention and the sight of her made you frown. “Do you think he did something to Beans? She hasn’t been speaking to me recently. Or, well, since Hyunjin entered the shop.”

“Yeah, possibly. I can ask Jeno to check on her tomorrow?”

“Please.”

“I’m going to take this weekend off,” Chenle announced, peering at you through his lashes, “we should go on a date.”

A smile blossomed on your face and you jumped at him to capture him in a hug. “Of course!” When you began babbling about the different things you wanted to do, he let out a small laugh. It was the one he did whenever he was amused and it sounded like music to your ears.

As the two of you curled up on the couch, Beans hiding somewhere, Chenle repeatedly pressed kisses to your cheek as he wrapped his arms tightly around you which made you feel warm.

#THE CHENLE REQUEST IS FINALLY HERE #sorry if u dont like it #not @ me using hyunjin as the villain im sorry but go stream stray kidz wkdkdkek #honestly yall can never tear away supernatural/fantasy genre away from me #i live and breathe for it amdjekekdkkd #am i happy with this? idk ://#for now i guess i am but i think it could use some improvement 🤔#anyway here come the tags:#nct scenarios #nct #nct au #nct dream #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct chenle #zhong chenle #chenle imagines #chenle scenarios #chenle au

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