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phantomenby · 2 years

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Hypochondriac

Anonymous asked:

ah twas what I wanted ta hear,but ye see a laddie like me ain't the most mentally healthy,I suffer from erm "hypochondria" which is just health anxiety,real hard stuff,smallest change in me body and I think I'm done for ya get me?I'd like to order some headcanons of how the boys would act with someone like me

I think they'd be really soft and chill about it.

Paul would be one of the easiest to be around.

Either his mellowness in response to your anxiety driving you up the wall or his eagerness to always do something.

One time he spent three hours in a 24-hour pharmacy with you, letting you scan each and every vitamin bottle til you found what you wanted, subtly putting back anything he knew you didn't need.

I mean after all, if something was wrong with you they would be able to taste it with just a little bit of blood.

And he always pays for anything you buy, even going so far as to sneak into the pharmacy or doctor's office when it closes or gets a little quiet at night to steal your prescriptions.

"Okay well maybe I am dying Paul!"

Your boyfriend was laying down on your bed, letting his legs hang over the edge whilst he smoked, watching the smoke flow around his head.

"Its just a cold babe, at most, remember the time you thought you had some new plague and you had just mixed up your meds?"

Huffing you turned to face him, placing your hands on your hips and standing in front of the window.

"Paul."

He took another puff, lips drawing to a lazy grin as he focused on anything but you.

"Paul."

Even as you wanted to smack him he looked cuter than ever. Weed really did make his eyes darker than the night, maybe if he had hair like Dwayne's he'd resemble a baby cow.

Maybe if you could just get him to pierce his nose, and now he was reaching for your pillow-

"PAUL!"

He jumped slipping off the bed and falling to the floor with a thump, rising back up and looking like a startled cat.

When he realized it was just you his usual dopey grin returned, eyes raking over your form, "hey babe~"

"Don't 'hey babe' me princess, I've been trying to get your attention for the past twenty minutes."

You slunk to the floor, sitting with your legs crossed.

Paul pouted, crawling on all fours towards you, laying down on his front with his head where your ankles were crossed.

"What's wrong bubba?" his thumb rubbed circles on your hip, soothing your nerves, "throat acting up?"

You nodded, reaching to play with his hair.

"It's silly, but it's just-" he shushed you, leaning up to push a finger to your lips, pulling you closer to him.

"Nothings silly with you dear, c'mon I'll warm up some soup for you."

You always spend every evening you can with them.

Wearing thick socks and a hoodie or two, often stealing their jacket or coat.

And they have a habit of just manhandling you, carrying you down to the cave ever since you got worried the old railing would give you tetanus.

David has his tricks too.

All of them can get into your mind, to what extent you didn't truly know but it wouldn't hurt to give you a little nudge into a calmer headspace every once in a while.

When your head got real mean David would just take you in his arms and bring you over to your nest, curling around you and holding you as close as possible.

Two hours later you were heading down the side of a familiar cliff, letting Paul carry you on his back, wearing his long coat and carrying a bag of healthy snacks.

They might be dead but that doesn't mean they don't need to eat something good every once in a while.

"Look what I've got!"

Three sets of eyes looked towards the two of you, eyes shining brighter when they saw you on Pauls back, Marko coming to meet the two of you at the mouth of the cave.

His hand reached for you, pulling you to his chest and letting your feet meet the floor as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

"Oh I've missed you bubba-" he laughed as you fussed at him, nudging his chest back as his hair tickled your nose, making you twitch.

Those who hadn't been in your home earlier knew exactly what you mind was up to.

Paul had already warned them ahead of time that you were on edge and not to spook you with any random splashes of blood from their most recent kill.

Speaking of, the blonde had seemingly vanished. Not that you would notice with Marko lifting you back off the ground and taking you to where David was sat, depositing you on his packmate's lap with a peck to your lips.

"Get comfy love, we're stayin in for the night."

You watched him bounce away going to take Dwayne's board to ride around on for a bit.

A cold hand curled around the back of your head as you were hiked further up David's lap, being pulled flush to his chest as he cradled you, his eyes raking over your form.

"What's wrong?"

You chewed your lip, hating how much you didn't wanna talk to him about it, turning your head to bury it in his chest.

But he didn't need you to respond, he already knew what was going on. And just how to fix it.

Pressing his lips to your scalp he rose from the seat, keeping a firm grip around your form, his slow footsteps echoing around the cave as he took you both to your little haven.

His mind was already working on yours, wrapping it in a warm safe haze.

Overall I think the boys are very loving.

Between Paul's bad trips and all of their rough sleeping, they knew how to handle bad thoughts and any form of anxiety.

Life was easier when you were with them.

Your meds were always taken properly, the ones they knew you actually needed.

If it ever got too bad they made sure to keep you in the cave with them all day, even David made it a rule to lay down beside you so he could keep your mind company instead of hanging on the beams in their secret nest.

#the lost boys #marko the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader #poly lost boys x reader #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #david tlb #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys fic

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delaber · 3 years

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Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal imagine #smut #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys

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psychosistr · 3 years

Text

Mending the Broken- Chapter 1

Summary: What if Jonathan had never unintentionally broken Dio's hypnotic control over Poco and had inadvertently fell into one of Dio's traps? What if he and Speedwagon got captured and Speedwagon was forced to give himself over to Dio to protect Jonathan? And....what if there may not be a way for Jonathan to save him?

Notes: The first of my “trick or treat” posts. Warnings in advance- this one gets dark and will have significant parts of it posted on AO3, so I’ll link where appropriate. Trigger warnings for future dubious consent as well as mental/emotional manipulation.

Jonathan calmly followed the young boy guiding him and his companions towards the village that Dio was now residing in. The boy’s name was Poco and, while he had originally tried to steal their supplies, seemed like a trust worthy child. His teacher, Baron Zeppeli, seemed to agree with his judgement. His other companion, Robert E. O. Speedwagon, seemed to have some reservations about it, though.

As they followed the boy, Speedwagon made a silent gesture for Jonathan to fall back a little so they could talk at a distance from Poco. “Something on your mind, Speedwagon?”

“You could say that, Mr. Joestar.” He spoke softly, careful not to let anyone else hear him. “I can’t quite put me finger on it, but somethin’s tellin’ me we should be careful followin’ the kid..”

Jonathan gave his dear friend a surprised look before frowning. “Is this because he attempted to steal our supplies? I would have thought that you, of all people, would-”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Speedwagon cut him off with a shake of his head before looking ahead at the boy again. “Like I said, I can’t tell why, but somemthin’ feels..off..” He tapped a finger to his chin in thought as he spoke. “I don’ get a bad scent off the kid- ‘e’s a good lad, I can tell that much- but it’s just..I dunno, somethin’ ‘bout the look in ‘is eyes feels wrong.” He looked back up at Jonathan with a frown. “I ain’t sayin’ ‘e’s untrustworthy- I just think we should be careful.”

Jonathan’s frown shifted into an understanding smile and he set one of his large hands on Speedwagon’s shoulder. “I understand your suspicions, Speedwagon. There is much to be cautious of here, after all- Dio likely has traps waiting everywhere. But I believe that Poco is sincere in his desire to help us and we should show him our trust.”

Speedwagon didn’t look too comforted by Jonathan’s words, the smile he gave him in return feeling uneasy and unsure. “If ya say so, Mr.Joestar..”

Jonathan didn’t like that smile- it was the same one Speedwagon gave him whenever they talked about Erina. “Is everything alright, Speedwagon? You know you are more than welcome to tell me what you really think.”

“…….” Speedwagon seemed hesitant to say anything for a minute before he looked back up at Jonathan with that same forced smile and the same reply that always accompanied it. “I’m fine, Mr.Joestar- nothin’ t’ worry ‘bout.”

Jonathan frowned slightly at those now familiar words. “If you are quite certain…” Speedwagon’s silent nod did nothing to alleviate the nagging feeling in the back of Jonathan’s mind, but he felt it would be rude to pry if Speedwagon was uncomfortable with continuing the conversation.

“Mr.Joestar! Mr.Speedwagon! I found something!” They heard Poco calling from up ahead and went to join him. When the three caught up to their guide, he was standing at the mouth of a cave. He turned to them with a proud smile. “This cave takes you right to the center of town! I used to play here all the time, so I know the tunnels like the back of my hand.”

Jonathan gave the boy a grateful smile in return. “We are quite fortunate to have you with us, then.” The Joestar stepped into the dark cave, his best friend close behind him. “Now, how should we-?”

There was a loud rumbling sound from above and Jonathan found himself being tackled out of the way. “Mr.Joestar! Watch out!”

As he fell, Jonathan saw the rocks above them at the cave entrance falling to the ground, effectively cutting them off from Baron Zeppeli and Poco. For a minute everything was pitch black, until Jonathan fumbled with his belongings and found a gas lantern. Lighting it with hamon, he took stock of the thick barrier now blocking their way. Hearing a weak groan, he lowered the lamp and caught sight of Speedwagon lying prone on the ground face down, one foot trapped under the rubble.

“Speedwagon!” Jonathan quickly moved to help his friend, the realization of what just happened dawning on him: Speedwagon had shoved him out of the way of the falling rocks and, in the process, been trapped himself. “Hold on, I’ll get you out!” He carefully moved the fallen stones aside enough to free the other’s trapped leg. At a pained hiss from the other man, Jonathan noticed that his foot was facing the wrong way with blood seeping into his sock and pants leg, meaning it was likely broken by the rocks. “That doesn’t look good..” He turned his friend over to look at the pained, barely conscious expression on his face- a bloody bruise on his head suggesting at a possible concussion. “Speedwagon! Speedwagon, can you hear me?”

“Nhhh..Jo…jo…” Was the weak reply he received. The other was conscious, though just barely.

“Jonathan! Speedwagon! Are you two alright?!” He heard Baron Zeppeli’s voice from the other side of the rocks.

“I am, but Speedwagon has been injured!” He called back before looking down at Speedwagon again. “Hold on, Speedwagon. I’m going to try healing you as much as I can. I apologize if it hurts..” Jonathan inhaled deeply, charging the warm hamon within himself. “Haaaaaaaahhh…” He then carefully placed one hand to Speedwagon’s head and the other to his broken foot and ankle. Charging his hands with the bright energy he’d stored, he worked to mend the damage done to the various joints and cartilage.

“Nggh! Aggh, fuck!” Speedwagon hissed and swore as a popping noise filled the air. His body jerked in pain and he gripped onto Jonathan’s shirt for dear life.

Jonathan frowned with guilt at the pain he was causing his friend, but it had to be done to fix what was broken. “Sorry..please, just bear it a bit longer, Speedwagon..” He concentrated on his work, using the energy to ease the other’s pain as much as possible until the damage was undone. “There..that should do it.”

Speedwagon’s face slowly eased from its pained grimace and he looked up at Jonathan as he regulated his breathing. “Th..Thanks, Mr.Joestar..I owe ya one.”

Jonathan shook his head and stood up, carefully helping Speedwagon do the same. “Hardly- you were injured while saving me. If anything, I am the one indebted to you.”

Speedwagon thumbed at his nose and glanced away, ever uncomfortable with receiving praise. “Eh, think of nothin’ of it- you’d do the same for me.” His eyes happened to glance upon the wall of rocks that led to their current predicament. “Still..somethin’ ‘bout this don’t sit right with me..feels like we stepped right int’ one o’ Dio’s traps.”

Jonathan frowned at his friend’s accurate speculation. “I am inclined to agree with you.” He walked up to the wall of rubble and tried to conduct his hamon through it, but the sparks went nowhere. “Just as I feared- these rocks are iron based. They cannot conduct the ripple properly..”

Speedwagon had that thoughtful look again before his eyes hardened into the serious look Jonathan saw when the other man fought. “Oi! Baron Zeppeli! You an’ Poco still out there?” He called through the stone barrier.

“Yes, we are!” Zeppeli called back to him. “I cannot break through the rubble to reach you, though- it’s too dense!”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me an’ Jojo!” Jonathan was a bit surprised to see Speedwagon taking charge in such a way. “You two get outta ‘ere- I’d bet me right arm Dio’s got ‘is goons headin’ this way by now. We’ll meet up with y’ in town later! Stay safe ‘til then!”

A groaning sound from outside lent validity to Speedwagon’s theory. “Very well. You two do the same!” Baron Zeppeli’s voice started to fade out towards the end and Jonathan could hear the sound of his hamon-infused attacks hitting their mark along with two pairs of retreating footsteps.

Jonathan looked at Speedwagon with a raised brow, curious as to how he was able to predict the timing of the zombies’ arrival so accurately. “Speedwagon, how did you-?”

“It’s a tactic I used with me mates back on Ogre Street.” The blonde explained. “When dealin’ with a group, lure ‘em somewhere an’ cut the group in ‘alf. Then, all y’ ‘ave t’ do is take ‘em out one by one ‘til they’re all gone.” He sighed and righted his hat on his head. “Glad t’ see it’s payin’ off ‘ere..”

Jonathan put a hand on Speedwagon’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Lucky for all of us that you are here, then.”

The two spared a small smile at one another before looking at the only path left to them with a serious gaze.

“I doubt that bastard Dio‘d only ‘ave a trap waitin’ on the outside..” Speedwagon pointed out while picking up the gas lantern from the floor.

“My thoughts exactly. Be on your guard.” Jonathan said before the two cautiously began trekking through the cave.

Next Chapter->

End Notes: Keeping the first of couple chapters short and simple- they'll get longer as the story progresses!

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo kimyou na bouken #jonathan joestar #robert edward o speedwagon #jonawagon #baron zeppeli #poco #mending the broken

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the-ignoble-and-most-sane-black · 4 years

Text

Red Converse

Summary: I made Delilah years ago because I was bored and now I’m too emotionally invested in her and the marauders to stop writing about it so I decided to post it. She’s James Potter’s twin sister. It’s a marauders story. Predictable as hell.

Pairing: eventually Sirius x Delilah (I know, its cheesy)

Word count: 3k

Warning: maybe slightly scary imagery for a second? Snape is in there too so that’s definitely a warning. I’m stating this now before Snape stans come for me, he’s in there for a second. Not described to your standard. You have been warned! Also I’m dyslexic so maybe bad spelling?

The flap

The crisp flap of my father opening the daily profit is a staple of the morning in the Potter house.

His elbows perched upon the table, his spectacle hidden eyes overlooking. They were the only thing you could see over the paper covering his whole being. I was sure he did it just to keep James under control.

James on the other hand was gobbling his eggs like he had never been feed. Ripping into his toast and talking with mouth full.

"Should I slick my hair back?" He coughed out.

"Slow James," my mother laughed, sipping her tea.

"He only has one speed," watching my legs swing back and forth under the table.

"Delilah, please eat something" my mother nudged.

My brother and I were the same amount of opposite as we looked alike.

He was a man of action and I was an observer. He was laughs and jokes. Could outrun a horse with his energy. His talent and confidence hard to match.

That's why I preferred to be the other half of him. More of a background character to his antics. Course if anyone came for my brother they'd face a wrath likeable to the god of war.

We held our anger very similar. You don't mess with our family. Something you learn with older parents. Parents that parts of the Wizarding hate for their views. Their correct views. Which are that we are no more better than our neighbor because our blood.

We are both left handed. I mirrored our mother and he took after dad. Both have terrible eyesight. Kind people, once you got past how annoying we both are at first.

James couldn't keep still at what was happening today.

September 1st, 1971. Our first day of Hogwarts.

And I was too, excited to learn. I just hated new places. I liked the comfort of my home. I was just a anxious person compared the nothing my brother cared about.

That was why I wasn't eating.

"If you aren't going to I will!" James poked my arm rapidly, never tiring.

"James, leave your sister alone!" My father warned, never looking up from his paper.

"How can you do that?" James shook his head, folding up in his seat. "Teach me"

"You'll learn when you have kids," he winked to him, ruffling up his hair. "Get your feet off the chair"

"Please," James said over-dramatically, stealing my toast I was sliding him under the table. "Children are Delilah's thing!"

"Why is that?" fiddling with my eggs for mom's sake.

"Your a girl!" He peppered in as that answered the question.

"What's that suppose to mean!?" I raised my voice.

"Calm down," his hand pushing the air slightly, "I'm just saying I'm never, ever, having kids!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at the brick wall waiting for it to dissolve. I think magic forgot I'm not that stupid. Only James would run straight at a brick wall. This had to be one of dad's jokes. Like when he tied my socks together on my feet and made them unremoveable. I had to crawl down the stairs to my mom in tears. Dad slept the night on the couch.

James offered his hand out to me. I looked it over, my hands glued to the cart by sweat.

"Come on, I've got you! We crash, then we do it together!" Flashing a smile.

And I took it. Knowing he was nervous about it too the moment our skin touched gave me comfort.

I had a gift.

I could feel people's emotions with a single touch. I could control them too. I tried not to do it often, debilitating to take people's emotions from them.

I only did it once.

When James broke his arm. He was trying to fly around the yard. He wanted to be the best quidditch player in the world, wanted to get onto the team his first year. It was a dream of his.

He hit the ground so hard I thought he died. Then came his tears. He wouldn't stop crying and I couldn't stand the sound of it. Watching him lay in the yard sobbing while clutching his arm against his chest. Listening to him choke on his tears, saying he'd never make it.

The minute his confidence wavered, I knew. I didn't have a second thought. My brother wasn't allowed to think about himself badly, not James Potter. I would suffer hell before I let that happen willingly.

We ran through the wall together, just as we came into this world. Three minutes apart from birth and it would be that way til death. We'd die by each other's side, grey and probably bickering about something. 3 minutes apart.

He laughed, thick and unbeatable. Like he was excited we made it through the wall. Trying to hid any embarrassment about thinking it wouldn't work. He stormed off in front of me. Trying to surf with the cart.

"James," Mom's voice wavered as it raised, "Slow down!"

But he was already gone. He only stopping when he ran over a kid. He was a stubby bloke, blonde hair that was slightly greasy. Slackened against his face. He was only eleven but was somehow managing side burns.

"Owww!" His voice shrieked, the cart laying by his side as he held his ankle.

"I'm sorry," James held onto his laugh, "I'm so sorry!"

If I could get away with hitting him I would have. Never could take a single thing seriously his whole life. He probably was born laughing.

"Are you okay?" I bent down to him, offering manners my brother lacked.

"No," he whined.

"You can sit with us, I promise to not run you over again" James held his hand against his heart before reaching out to pull him up.

The boy stepped onto my foot as James lifted him. He almost went right back down. I could see him shake, though I already knew he was nervous when I got close enough.

"She doesn't bite," James laughed, "I'm James, that's Delilah. We're twins! Don't we look identical?"

His arm slung around me, tugging me into his side.

James is messy jet black hair and hazel eyes. A centimeter taller than me, which he'd hold over me every chance he got. His skin slightly lighter than mine, not that it is noticeable to anyone but me.

I used dad's life work to keep my hair neat, the longest I ever let it grow was a bit past my shoulder. Dirty blonde but it looked a caramel color in most lights. Light freckles across my cheeks. Golden brown eyes.

We shared the same nose and lips. Our eyebrows grew in a similar shape and my face was a more feminine version of his.

We held each other differently. Squared shoulders, though he always looked relaxed. Probably the confidence. I was always tense, but I stood straight. I hid behind my hair, looking down to cover my face.

"I'm Peter," the boy finally managed, sharing a smile with James.

"I think we will be great friends, Pete!" He slung his arm around him. "Mom, Dad! This is our friend Pete!"

Our parents shared the same expression and kindly greeted Peter. They ran off after that, James dragging Peter behind him.

I stood by my parents for as long as I could, watching the clock.

"You can write us everyday," my mother kissed my left cheek and then my right. "We are always just an owl away."

"Excuse me!" A new voice called. "Sorry! I'm new?"

I looked back to see a girl with fiery ginger hair. Her green eyes were as bright and piercing as fresh cut grass.

Behind her stood a miserable looking blonde girl, hair curled and nose pinched. She didn't have a cart like the red hair girl.

Her and my parents started talking. Laughing along at something they said.

"I was supposed to meet my friend, Severus. I know nothing about magic, but I can't wait to learn!" She drawled, "I'm Lily Evans by the way, I forgot to mention that."

"I'm Delilah," I answered quick, afraid she would start talking again before I could finish. "Potter."

"We both have flower names" she smiled holding out her pinkie. "Flower friends."

I took it, holding my breath to not intrude on her. I made the decision to lead her onto the train. Searching through the crowd for James. I found him in a compartment hanging from the storage racks.

He had made a new friend. Lanky. Hidden under a baggy sweater and short pants. His light brown hair swooped down trying to hid a scar across his face. He coincidentally was also trying to hid a smile as James swung back and forth.

"Delilah!" His voice high and breathy. "Look!"

"You know him?" Lily sounded a tad disappointed under the curiosity.

He crashed down from what ever trick he was attempting, smiling up at us from the floor.

"He's my brother," I smiled, so slightly it looked like my resting face.

"Your shoe is untied," the lanky scarred boy answered, choking on a laugh. "Remus."

"Thank you," I pulled my brother up. "Delilah."

Lily moved over to Remus. Sitting next to him and beginning a conversation about the book on Remus’ lap. And just how James thought him and Peter would be great friends, I could see those two would be too.

"Who's your friend?" James whispered to me, it was the first time I saw my brother still.

"Lily Evans"

I didn't expect for it to unnerve so much. Days, I prayed for him just to calm down.

"Lily Evans" he hummed. "I'm gonna marry her!"

"How hard did you hit you head?" Faking sincerity as I laughed.

He nudged me back, pushing me right out of the compartment.

And that's how Sirius Orion Black came into our lives.

I wish I knew exactly how much he'd mean to me when I knocked him out. Instead of the idiot I thought him to be as he smiled up at me. His head by feet.

"Stars," he laughed, brushing his hair out of his face to reveal his grey eyes.

"Excuse me?" Blowing my bangs back, James sliding under my arms.

"Sorry, De!" He snickered, yanking me up.

"You've got stars on your shoes," the boy sprung to his feet with the grace of a dancer. Dusting his hands off on his trousers. He outstretched it, leaning his whole body to me. "Sirius Black!"

The smile on his face and the way he threw his head back screamed two things. The first was arrogance and the second was trouble. Two things that attracted my brother instantly.

James took his hand as quick as he could.

"James Potter," gingerly as ever.

Sirius paused for a moment holding his smile.

"I like your shoes," he pointed to me.

I looked down to my beat up red chucks, they were stained from running after James in muddy woods. Drawings from when I'd get bored. They were the most ugly looking shoes in the world.

"My shoes?" Trying to figure out what was going on in the boys head.

"Yeah. The stars are a nice touch" he winked, brushing back his thick black hair.

"You here with anyone?" My brother butted in, "cause we got room!"

"Alright," he looked up to the rack over the window. "Have you ever tried hanging from those? Dad always bats me off them, but"

"As amazing as flying a broom!" James answered.

"I think we’ll get along just fine. Must be fate that" he realized he didn't know my name, his face falling.

For once I couldn't place the emotion. He was a hidden boy and every fiber of my being I wanted to know why. Curious by nature, I suppose. Never met a person I couldn't read.

"Don't mind Deli, she not one for fate! Analysis" James gagged.

"Deli?" He asked, "that's a strange name."

"It's short for Delilah," I corrected. "No one calls me Deli."

"She hates it," James mused, "per the rules of being the oldest, I must annoy her!"

"Three minutes," shaking my head.

I was three minutes older. I decided from a young age that James needed to be the older brother. It made more sense that way.

"Your twins?" Everyone spoke in unison except Peter, he smiled holding a laugh in his chest.

"They are identical!" He broke the shocked silence.

"Nice one, Pete!" James patted his shoulder.

Him and Sirius falling down next to him.

I sat opposite of them, next to Remus and Lily, who James was now calling Evans, much to Lily's dismay.

James always had to give people nicknames.

Sirius and James accents were quite a contrast, enough to give people a culture shock. James is cockney true as the city. Sirius is smooth english, a bit of French mixed in.

Yet the two of them were basically joined at the hip in the five minutes they've known each other. He always could make friends as if it were as easy to breath.

That was until a cheesed off boy slammed our door open, brooding look in his eyes. If I thought Sirius was dodgy, this greasy dark haired boy took the top spot!

"Lily, I have been looking for you everywhere!" He whined, his foot stomping.

"Sorry, Severus" she brushed her hair behind her ear, grabbing her stuff. "I'll see you guys later!"

"Where are you going?" James surged forward, "there's room for one more! James Potter" he held his hand out to the boy.

He looked it over, taking Lily's hand and pulling her along with him.

"Tosser," James mumbled, "didn't need to drag her off like that!"

He fell back into his seat.

"I'm sure the love of your life will return" reassuring him.

"You snide now, but just you wait Deli! She loves me, I know it!"

"What is he talking about?" Whispered Remus, his elbow brushing against my leg.

All I heard was a howl and the feeling on my back braking. When the contact broke my hands went to my back, realizing it was fine. But the shocked expression didn't leave my face.

"Are you okay?" His finger bending the corner of his book in.

"Are you?"

"What?" He slid slightly back.

Why am I so weird? Did James steal the ability to form a normal conversation in the womb? I already knew the answer to that one.

"Nothing sorry," shaking my head, pulling it towards my chest. "He thinks he's going to marry Lily. Don't know why."

I spent the entire train ride thinking about what happened. Looking at the scars on his hands, one peaking out from his collar. There was only one conclusion. Yet he sat there crossed legged, diligently reading a book in a wool sweater with patches on the elbows. a 11 year old with the anxiety of a middle aged man.

I adored him.

The train rolled to stop. We were at Hogwarts. I could curl up in a ball, hide under the seat. They'd never find me. Go right back home.

"Woah," James pressed against the glass, "that man is HUGE!"

"Let me see!" Pete joined him, shoving his way in.

"You look ghastly!" Sirius mentally slapped himself. "You alright?"

His hand went out to me again and James was too enthralled by the tall bloke ringing a bell to save me. I could just not take it, but I didn't want to be rude.

I squeezed my eyes shut, he wasn't as easy as lily. I felt what I thought was a whip slash cross my body.

I shivered pulling back.

"My hands that cold?" He joked

"She doesn't like touching people," James turned, "feels their emotions or whatever"

"Pardon?" Sirius pulled back, scratching the back of his head.

"She's only a slight freak!" Holding my shoulders, "trust me, she's just fine you've got nothing to worry about, mate!"

"Thank you," I mumbled under my breath. "If you aren't feeling a practically strong emotion I don't feel anything. Sometimes see a quick memory. But normally it's nothing"

"See, Nothing!" Butted in James again.

Remus looked me over with eyes I didn't enjoy, like I could be a potential threat. Though there was nothing behind his eyes besides worry. Slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Sirius was more concerned, pondering if I saw anything and if so, what. I was just more concerned as to why my brother’s new friends gave me the most horrible feelings.

"Did you see anything?" He finally asked.

I didn't meet his eye, "no"

"Promise to stay out of my head, deli" he offered

I only smiled, "I make no promises."

"I like you," he whispered before following James and Peter out of the train.

Then it was just Remus and I

"You are a bad liar," his eyes glued to the ground. "So what do you see?"

"When I touched Sirius?" I answered.

He stifled a laugh, "no."

"I'm not scared of you," his eyes shot up, "I know you are worried about that. I'm not going to tell."

"Why?" He answered.

"You're wearing mismatched socks," I nodded, pulling my shoes down a bit to reveal my mismatched socks. "We can be strange together!"

"I'd like that," a relieved smile on his face.

I managed to make my first friend.

Sirius was up to the hat first. The cocky smile fell from his face as quick as the voices in the room when the hat yelled gryffindor. A Black in gryffindor. The only one excited was James.

James anxiously danced next to me, pulling at my sleeve. He was dreading how far back our names were. That's was until Lily got up there.

Gryffindor too.

"My best friend and wife in the same house as me!" He whispered to me. "Pete, what house do you think you'll get onto?"

"Hufflepuff" He nodded, the most certain I've seen him.

"What about you?" Asked Remus.

"Ravenclaw," I lied.

I had no idea where I'd go, but something told me it was Slytherin. I looked to James, afraid that this would be my last moment with my brother

"Me too," Remus scanned me over, until his name was called, "wish me luck!"

"Luck"

He was gryffindor too. The names went on and on until I knew it was me next.

"James," I grabbed his hand.

"What's the matter?" I was shaking.

"I love you!"

Delilah Potter

"I'll be at the table with you in a minute," he shoved me forward.

Please don't be Slytherin. Please don't be Slytherin. For the love of Queen Elizabeth II don't be Slytherin.

GRYFFINDOR

James never cheered louder.

#sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marauders era #lily evans #james potter x sister! reader #sirius black x reader #my ocs #marauders fic #delilah potter

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archieimagines · 5 years

Text

Marvel Preference | How they Cuddle | Part One

REPOST

requested by: anon the following includes Bucky, Tony, Peter P, T’Challa and Loki.

We worked really hard on these, so please don’t be shy to drop us a comment if you like it! And please remember to like, all the notes we got on this before have gone!

Part Two (soon). Part Three.

Bucky Barnes

Bucky is a man who likes his space. He’s not all that fond of the hugs at first: he’s been so deeply conditioned into violent behaviours that the idea of touching without the intent to kill is foreign to him. He’d take some convincing, but as soon as he feels you relaxing in his arms, he’s converted. He remembers that being vulnerable is okay, intimate, and can feel beautiful somehow. The feeling of giving comfort seems to undo all the black strikes on his record and remind him that he’s still human, part of him is still the Bucky from before. He’s not one for public affection though, it’s too much to ask of him. But slowly, he’d get better with it as he becomes more trusting of you as well as himself.

Bucky was not good at cuddling at first. Stiff, all elbows and knees, too much like a soldier that couldn’t let go. But you snuggled up to him one time when he was sleeping, placing a pillow over his metal arm and using it to rest your head, entwining your legs and balling a hand in his shirt. When he awoke, he pulled you closer and bent his metallic wrist to bury his fingers in your hair. His warm hand settled on your own arm, almost protectively, and cuddling finally clicked for him.

He’s very keen on cuddling before he sleeps now, desperate for you to fall asleep in his arms, so he knows you’re truly at peace with him, truly trusting of him. And he loves it.

Tony Stark

Tony has no middle ground with hugs. When you’re with other people, he would either pretend like he’s no hugger (which he is), or would pull you into his arms with no regard for how everybody else felt about it, awkward or not (this would usually happen if someone wanted something from him, in hopes it’d scare them off). He’s very much a fan of hugging you from behind while you’re doing something, because he finds seeing you be productive and successful majorly attractive and it just makes him want to wrap you up.

When it comes to cuddling, Tony is a monster. He’s all for the snuggles and cuddles once you’re alone together and he has the chance to unwind his mind, with which you help him greatly. You tend to just lay in each other’s arms, sharing a couple of sweet kisses, few words exchanged. You may reach around his back and run your fingers up and down with a little pressure, helping his muscles chill out (sometimes met with a nice approving sound from Tony), and it’s always very cosy. He has the most comforting smell, a nice warmth, a way of holding you that keeps you close and safe. You could be on the verge of slumber when-

He’s a lion?

He’d wait til you were ultimately chilled out and then pounce, tightening his arms around you and tickling you a little, nuzzling your neck with his teeth and making lion-y sounds of some kind, ‘eating’ you until you were crying with laughter.

Once he calms, there’d be a scolding thwack to his arm because you were just about to drop off. There’d be a few laughter-ridden apologies and kisses pressed to your cheek before he calms down again, pulling you tightly to him. While you finally fall asleep, he’d often try and stay awake as long as he can manage, just so he can consciously feel you in his arms a little longer.

Peter Parker

Peter is all about the hugs - he worked damn hard to get you, and once he’s got you, he’s gonna make sure you know he isn’t gonna let you go, and hugs are the best way to do that.

He likes to loop his arms around your waist when you hug, your arms reached up over his shoulders because he likes to feel you pressed against him completely. Sometimes he may slip his hand under the back of your shirt just to feel your skin, or if he’s in a particularly good mood he may sway you instead, which would promptly lead to a bit of a boogie dance and a giggle.

Cuddles are always good with Peter. Because he’s a youngster with a good amount of grown-up, tough-guy superhero role models, he’s got a bit of a man complex going on, so he’s very keen to be the big spoon/supporter. He likes to feel needed, so often finds himself with a dead arm from keeping it under you when he holds you, but he doesn’t mind. He minds when you torture him with the pins and needles as the blood circulation starts up again though (but he loves the mischievous side to you tbh).

On bad days, though, you know he likes to be cuddled, although he rarely says it. Sometimes there’ll be a quiet call of your name, a low “Hold me?” Most of the time just the look in his eye is enough, even if there’s no tears. Before you know it, your protective, comforting instincts have kicked in and you’ve pulled him to the couch or bed and wrapped him in your arms. When he’s feeling like this, he loves to bury his nose in the crook of your neck, and loves it even more when you touch his hair. He’ll often stay in the position long after he’s feeling better, just letting you run your fingers through it, enjoying your comforting touch.

T’Challa

T’Challa gives t h e best hugs, and it’s not even a question. That man is a human (kitty?) radiator, and when he approaches you with arms wide, you can just fall into his embrace like it’s second nature. Because it is. He hugs you so often it’s unreal and it’s so pleasant each time because he just radiates safety, even if it’s just an arm over your shoulders or a hand on the small of your back as he follows you through the royal halls.

There’s also something very natural about his cuddles. He’s so warm and so chilled about it, that however you fall onto the bed or couch together is how you’ll stay, like a pair of kitties in the warm sun. He may occasionally pull you a little closer though, snuggle up to you a bit more, especially if he’s not touching enough of your skin. Even if it’s just to hold your hand or pull his socks off to feel your feet beside his, he likes to feel you there.

He also loves to have his lips pressed to your forehead when you snuggle down, even if his beard is a little tickly on you at first. Eventually it’d stop tickling, and his lips would press a couple of kisses to your forehead before they settle there, remaining in place even if the pair of you fall asleep.

Loki Laufeyson

Loki is lowkey about his hugging. At first, he’s strongly against it. It seems like a ‘weak human satisfaction thing’, and doesn’t even want to try it, even after he discovers his feelings for you. It’s not until you’re alone and you ask him very sweetly (after a fair few previous tries) that he begrudgingly opens his arms to you, and you waste no time to hold him against you. He’s a kind of wooden hugger at first, clearly not quite knowing what to do with himself, but he loosens up and really comes into his own when you’re upset. Apparently he can’t force his hugs, but when they’re needed they’re a gift from the gods, a hand usually falling to cradle the back of your neck as you bury your face in his chest.

Although hugs grow on him with time, he much prefers to go all out, have you on your own with no distractions, and simply lay beside you until the next day rolls around. When you’re cuddling in bed, he prefers to face you, your body tight against his, arms wound around you. He likes to keep eye contact with you, just looking, because he knows that trust comes through the eyes. Although he’s the trickster, he wouldn’t want to trick you, wouldn’t want to ruin your trust, and he also wants to know he can trust you. There aren’t many he can completely let his guard down around, but you know that when he slips into slumber before you, you’ve completely won him over.

Craving his closeness, you’d often lean into him once his eyes are closed or just before you close yours, resting your forehead against his, or your nose in the crook of his. He’d never really been so close and vulnerable to anyone other than you, and it made you feel special, and very much loved by the God of mischief. Because you were very much loved indeed.

written by: archie

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badolmen · 4 years

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@billy-hoepe @bonniebunz @softupshur, @bandtrees everybody else who liked/reblogged the first, second, and third chapter- y’all’re awesome and cool and your tags and comments inspire me to keep writing! I hope something nice happens to you this month!

“Not gonna lie Upshur, that kid’s weird,” Piper said, pulling the curtain around the table. Miles swallowed the lump of fear in his throat, hoping those shadows licking at the edge of Billy’s frame were just his sleep deprived and traumatized mind playing tricks on his eyes.

“Doesn’t say much though, seems pretty quiet,” Billie muttered, swatting Miles’ hands away as she undid his button down, the shirt sticky with half dried blood. “We don’t need to worry about him talking, do we Miles?”

“No – no, he won’t-”

“Will you?” Piper asked, voice sing song soft as she pressed stinging antiseptic solution to the stubs of his fingers. Miles flinched away, but in spite of her small stature, Piper firmly held his hand in place.

“I wouldn’t have come here if – you know I wouldn’t do anything like that, right?” His words were strained, calm forced into his face as Billie turned to a table of tools.

“You’re a – well, you were a big shot reporter, buddy,” Buddy. Piper barely noticed Miles’ breath hitch.

“Relax Miles,” Billie said, tapping the needle in her hand, bubbles floating to the top. “Pip’s just being a jerk,” She brought the needle to his hand, giving him a glance. “It’s a local anesthetic, we need to clean up those cuts, you’ll feel the pressure but not the pain,”

Miles gave a grim smile, watching Piper set out scalpels and clippers and gauze. Billie set to work at the bullet buried in his shoulder, prodding the wound cautiously.

“By the way Miles, who the hell were you fucking with? Must be big fish if you’re here and not a hospital,” Piper asked, Miles looking away and ignoring the warmth of fresh blood as she began work on his left hand.

“Mount Massive,” He managed through gritted teeth, Billie still cautiously picking at the bullet wound. Piper looked up, eyes bright with recognition.

“Oh, cool! I had a girlfriend who worked there a while ago, think she got laid off recently actually, or maybe it was maternity leave? Haven’t talked to her in a while, we aren’t that close anymore.” There was a clatter as she set a bloody tool back into the metal tray.

“The hell were you doin’ up there? Not officially reporting ‘em or something, right? Thought you got fired or whatever after that stunt you pulled overseas,”

“Murkoff-” Miles inhaled sharply, Billie’s knife hitting a nerve. The sisters shared a glance. Piper sighed, cauterization of wounds filling the air with an all too familiar stench. There was an uncharacteristic rush to Billie’s movements as she continued to work the bullet from his shoulder.

“You two can’t come back here, got it? Soon as the sun’s up you’re on your own,” Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. Miles gave a stiff nod. “We don’t fuck with those guys, they’ve got a hand in every pocket; they’re real serious about whistleblowers and shit, they’ll ruin you, if they don’t outright kill ya,”

“They sure as hell tried,” Miles said with a dark chuckle, wincing as Piper began working on his right hand.

“Yeah, but they like to be thorough,” Piper glanced to her sister as the other woman finally pulled a chunk of bullet from Miles’ shoulder. “They’ll track you down, find everybody you talked to and do worse to them,” Miles’ eyes flashed to Piper as she snipped a jagged fingerbone to a cleaner cut. “Basically, Billie and I might be fucked for helping you,”

“I don’t – I don’t think we were followed,” Miles managed, Billie stitching his shoulder with a practiced hand. Piper gave a shrug.

“Good thing your mama’s way back in the East, wouldn’t want any of those goons visiting her,” The smaller woman said, holding one of Miles numbed hands still as she began to bandage the wounds. Miles jerked on the bench, but Billie held him down as she set a bandage to the wound on his chest, pressing against bruises and broken ribs.

“Easy, you might not be feeling much now, but tomorrow you’re gonna wish-”

“No, no, not that,” He said with a groan, already feeling the aches of his new stitches. His head looked to the curtain, the room outside very still and quiet. “He’s been talking about going back to his mom’s-”

“Don’t,” Piper said, voice soft as she took the tray of bloody tools away from the table.

“I know, but-”

“Listen, Miles, if you went to Mount Massive, found that kid, and took him…Murkoff is gonna consider you for one, a thief or kidnapper or whatever depending on how important that guy is, and two, an insurance nightmare. They’ve got a lot of money they’d rather not part with in lawsuits.”

A rhythmic knock rapped at the door. Billie glanced at her phone.

“Kev’s here,” She said, wiping blood from her hands and setting aside clean bandages. “I texted him earlier, to bring some stuff for you two, when you first knocked. Clothes, y’know? So you’re less recognizable.”

“And you told him to stop by Lee’s, right? For dinner? I’m starving,” Piper said, wrapping Miles’ hand in clean, white gauze.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billie said, pulling the curtain away and walking to the door. Miles looked to the couch, Billy’s form small and shivering. He swallowed a lump in his throat, hoping the sisters didn’t notice the darkness swarming behind the younger man’s blank eyes, the tendrils of nanites writhing across his body and blending with the shadows.

The door opened with a click, and Billy snapped out of it, the darkness dissipated by a single cough, eyes unfocused but clear.

“I got the stuff,” A new voice said, the crinkle of plastic bags accompanied by the smell of grease and spices. Kevin stepped through the door, Billie planting a kiss on her husband’s cheek. He nearly took up the whole door frame, ducking to keep from hitting his head on the light fixture that dangled in front of the door. He gave a nod to Miles, who could only give a weak smile in return.

“Gimme!” Piper squealed, Billy flinching away as the woman darted across the room to acquire a container of Chinese food. “Sorry Billy boy, a girl’s gotta eat,”

“Hold up Pip, we’ve gotta finish up with Upshur first,” Billie chided, Kevin pulling the bags of food up to the ceiling. Piper groaned, sulking back to Miles with comical disappointment. “Kev, could you, uh, hang out with Billy over there ‘til we’re done? You got some stuff for him, right?”

“Yeah, had Chris go through their things, pick out stuff they wanted to donate to the thrift store, figured this was about the same kinda charity, right?” Kev said, holding out a different grocery bag to his wife. Billie nodded at the contents.

“Cool, I’ll finish up quick, make sure Billy’s good, but then these two gotta stay the night,” She said, giving Kevin a tight smile. “Date night tomorrow night sound good?” Kevin grimaced.

“Chris’ got-”

“Right, SAT practice…damn, well, we’ll figure it out,” She pulled the curtain back across the divider, Kevin setting the bags of food on the table.

“Hey little guy,” He said, voice quiet and movements slow as he approached the couch, bag of clothes in hand. Billy recoiled at the words, shrinking deeper into the cushions. Kevin stopped walking. “Just got some stuff for ya, mind if I sit next to you?”

Billy’s eyes darted from the curtain to the giant of a man. Where did Mom go? How did he find her if he never left?

The man repeated his question. Billy nodded. It was better to let him do what he wanted. Safer. It couldn’t hurt worse than the ache in his chest.

“Here,” He said, setting the bag of clothes between them. “Chris is pretty big for their age and you seem a little small for yours so there should be some stuff in there that’ll fit you. Miles will just have to make do with the baggier stuff.” His smile was encouraging, gentle. “Sorry if it’s a little…unique. Chris has been going through some phases lately, but that just means more variety for you,”

Billy slowly leaned toward the bag, eyes catching glimpses of clothes. Stripes, plaids, polka dots, and sequins. Crop tops, flannels, button downs, sweaters, and vests. Shorts, jeans, cargo pants, sweat pants, and skirts. He glanced back to Kevin.

“Take what you want, it’s for you and Upshur, the rest is going to Good Will,”

Billy sifted through the clothes, trying to remember what he liked. When was the last time he picked out a shirt? Asked for a new pair of pants? Most of his clothes at home were hand-me-downs. He knew he didn’t like the uniform they gave him at the asylum. And that he didn’t like the shorts he wore in the cold place.

He liked Miles’ jacket. It was warm. It smelled like coffee and smoke, under the sickening scent of blood. Billy picked out clothes like that. Clothes that reminded him of Miles. A pale button down with plaid patterning. A cozy blue flannel. Worn but comfortable looking jeans. Soft socks with rubber grippers along the sole.

Kevin had taken out a container of food, picking at the contents with chop sticks as Billy sorted through the articles and compiled his favorites around him. On the table, Miles slowly sat up, blood and grime wiped away to reveal a patchwork of stitches and bruises and clean bandages left behind from the sisters’ work.

“You look like shit Upshur,” Kev said, gesturing with his chopsticks and eyes settling on the man’s hands as the reporter tried to push himself to his feet.

“Take it easy,” Billie hissed, grabbing his good shoulder. “Let’s get you to the couch. We’ll give Billy boy a quick check up then let you two rest up. You’re gonna need it.” The woman walked Miles to the seat, Kev reaching over Billy to pass on the bags full of clothes to the dazed patient.

“Kid, leave your stuff on the couch and come over here so we can get a better look at you,” Piper’s voice was friendly. Soft and inviting. And every fiber of Billy’s body screamed that it was a trap. Another test. Soft voices always led to numbing needles and suffocating quiet and then he would be underwater again, drowning but not drowning and breathing without air –

“Easy kiddo,” Kev’s voice rumbled beside him, a hand gripping his shoulder. Billy’s own hands were shaking, pins and needles loosening his grip on the clothes in his grasp. Darkness flickered at the edges of his vision, the ghostly afterimages from the Engine blurry against the white light from the makeshift operating room.

“Billy,” Miles. He knew Miles. Miles was safe. Never a trick. Never a lie. Not yet, at least. “You need to breathe,” He couldn’t see Miles, his vision crawling with those half corporeal insects that always seemed to eat his eyes and burrow into his skull. But Miles was there, a hardly felt warmth beside him. And Billy needed to breathe.

With a shaky inhale, chest aching for air, Billy blinked tears from his eyes, vision refocusing on his numb, shaking hands. And Miles’ hand, a mangled mess of bandages and bruises, gently rubbing some sensation back into Billy’s unfeeling palm. He lifted his eyes slowly, Piper and Billie and Kev seemingly unperturbed by the disturbance.

“They’re gonna help, okay? Not gonna hurt you,” Miles forced a smile, nodding to the sisters. Billy looked over Miles’ face, not quite meeting his eyes as he scanned the fresh stitches and bandages.

Eventually, he managed a stiff nod. Miles hadn’t hurt him yet, and the icy shadow that breathed down his back when the doctors lied and the nurses muttered under their breath was a distant chill. The people here were yet to pose a threat to him, at least, as far as the static specter in the back of his mind was concerned. Billy stood on shaking legs, shuffle toward the waiting women.

“Easy, easy,” Piper said, hands hovering around him without making contact as she guided him to the operating room. “Can you sit here on your own?” Billy managed himself up onto the cold, metal table, his own body far away and actions automatic. He focused on his breathing, chest hollow and rattling with every exhale.

“It’s alright, you aren’t the first to freak out, won’t be the last,” Billie muttered, a sincere attempt of comfort him somewhere in her tone. He could hardly hear her, keeping his focus on Miles, who seemed equally anxious that they finish looking over Billy’s bruises and cuts.

“You’re in rough shape kid, but you’re doin’ a helluva lot better than Upshur,” Piper said, smile across her face, hands gentle as they held Billy’s head up to force his eyes to meet her own. “A lot of water, some food, and sleep will do you a lot of good.”

“Really?” Miles’ voice was hoarse, a whisper in the quiet room that drew all eyes to him. “He’s okay?”

“Far as I can tell,” Piper said, giving the journalist a shrug. “Physically speaking. Bruises, cuts, easy antiseptic wash and band aid. Throat is raw as hell but the best he can do is take it easy.” She guided Billy back to the couch, her hand gently resting on his shoulder.

“We need to clean up for the night, then we’ll put the lights out. I’ll take first watch,” Billie supplied as she stepped back into the operating room, moving a tray of bloodied tools to the sink. “Get some fresh clothes on and get some rest.”

“I’ve got to go make sure Chris’ sleeping well. I’ll pick you two up in the morning,” Kev said, pulling his wife into a hug before heading back to the door. “Night,”

“Night,” The sisters echoed back, softly rummaging back in the operating room.

Miles was already asleep, breathing deep and slow, broken ribs aching against bandaged skin. He looked cold. Billy shed the blood stained jacket, placing it over Miles’ sleeping form. The clothes were warm and dry and smelled of fabric softener. Mom never used fabric softener; it was too expensive to buy regularly.

But there was something comforting in the floral scent, the freshness of the clothes compared to the dingy couch beneath him. How long had it been since he had dressed himself? Without doctors and nurses buzzing around him like anxious mosquitoes, needles at the ready full of sedative?

He curled into a ball at the opposite end of the couch, listening to Miles’ breathing and the sisters’ quiet murmurs. Eventually the room grew quiet. And the light went out.

#outlast #miles upshur #billy hope #outlast fanfiction #outlast whistleblower #outlast ii #outlast 2 #seriously tho @ yall who rb and comment on my stuff: you're cool and literally make my day.#quarantine: *happens* my outlast feels: 👀#also HELLO OUTLAST FANDOM i am NOT dead. just busy. and stressed. BUT im doing better! so here I am!#it has been. a while since ive touched this word document. ive read thru a few times for any inconsistencies but ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ its for fun

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isobel-thorm · 4 years

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All for Grant. >:3c

1) How do they respond to having a song stuck in their head? Does that happen to them often? “Oh God, not that one again” then begrudgingly play it til its out of his head.

2) How do they feel about confronting their friends when issues arise? He’ll only confront them if the situation turns absolutely dire/Grant thinks the friendship is on the brink of disintegrating. He’ll try to keep his own feelings close to his chest if he thinks it’ll lead to a confrontation.

3) When speaking to themselves in their mind, how do they refer to themselves? “You” and a buncha self-deprecating or self-preserving adjectives.

4) Do they enjoy wearing socks/stockings when they aren’t wearing shoes? Not really. Socks get annoying after a while.

5) Do they have any unappealing habits (ex: picking their nose, hawking loogies)? Does nearly nonstop self-hate count?

6) How do they cope with losing a game? Shrug it off and move on

7) How do they cope with losing an argument? Same as the last answer

8) How do they cope with losing a friend? Fuck him up entirely. Losing one if they part ways after a fight is right up there with losing his friends in that skirmish, so a lot of anger/grief goes internal and he either shuts down or turns the blame on himself.

9) How do they cope with losing a lover? Not as upset about losing a friend, but close. It takes him a while to decide he’s even worthy of love, so it’s an outlook of “they’re better off without me.”

10) Do they enjoy sitting on countertops? I wouldn’t say “enjoy” but he does if the place he’s in is cramped and the space allows for it.

11) How expressive is their face? Are they easy to read? Not very expressive/he usually keeps a neutral face, but he expresses himself a lot via expressions, so when he does react to something, a little goes a long way.

12) How do they deal with experiencing physical pain? He’s got a high pain threshold, so he basically just rolls with it.

13) Are they easily insulted? Not at all

14) Would they prefer to act or react? Depends on the situation. In general, react, if there’s an emergency or someone is in danger, then definitely act first.

15) How would they respond to performing on stage? The only way to get him up on a stage would be if you had to administer medical attention on a flat surface while he was unconscious. Can’t respond to being up there if you go out of your way to never get on a stage.

16) Would they ever wear perfume or cologne? When? What would the scent be? He’s not a cologne guy in the least.

17) Could their personality or interests be considered “flighty?” Do they change their mind/interests often? Not at all. He’s got a small handful of interests that never really change/suit him just fine, so he’s happy with them.

18) Do they daydream? Of what? All of the “what if”s if his life hadn’t gone to shit.

19) What is the most inappropriate thing they have ever done in public? Decked a guy in passing for poking fun at an injured homeless vet. It was an emotional day for him to begin with, and it’s not ‘inappropriate’ per se, but he’s still not entirely thrilled he did something that escalated that quickly.

20) What was their favorite toy as a child? Little He-Man figures that his uncles got him.

21) What was their favorite way to play as a child (ex: playing pretend, playing games with rules like tag,)? Playing pretend, though usually it was basically only half a game, because he’d pretend to be a rancher/cowboy in the Old West while helping out at his uncles’ farm.

22) How do the sneeze (ex: loudly, quietly, openly, into their elbow, hold the sneeze in)? Tries to be as quiet as possible, into his arm

23) When engaged in an irritating conversation, how to they conduct themselves? Lots of smiling and nodding.

24) What words make them cringe? “Purpose” , “square” (in a ‘town square’ sense), “guilt”

25) How do they feel in large crowds? Fairly comfortable, though the soldier in him is constantly noting how many exits are around/what have you in case of an emergency where he has to get people out.

26) Would they ever spend an afternoon in a library? What section would they spend the most time in? He probably wouldn’t, but if he had to, probably any place with the comfiest chairs.

27) Do they find it difficult to try new foods? Not at all, he’s willing to try new things right off the bat.

28) If a friend asked them to taste something and it turned out to be unpleasant, how would they handle it? Not let them see him struggle with it, keep his face/voice as pleasant as possible. He’d rather die than hurt their feelings. And he’d wait a few minutes/at least a couple of it’s a quick cooking process and make ‘harmless suggestions’ to try and improve the dish - but deliver the suggestions so blase so it doesn’t seem like he’s actively correcting them and they think it’s mostly their personal change, ie: “Oh, that could use... I don’t know, little something for an extra little kick” “Hmm. Oh, I could add more sugar, even out some of the bitterness!” “Perfect!”

29) Do they wear underwear? 100% of the time, yes

30) Can they pee in front of other people? Only people he’s close to/has known for years.

31) What story gave them nightmares as a child? When his parents talked about getting promotions and the like - which meant less time for him, so he’d dream about them leaving him somewhere/forgetting him/being all alone etc.

32) How would they respond to being handed an infant? Absolutely petrified. He would hate it, fear that he’s tainting the kid and try to hand them off to someone else the first chance they got. He’d definitely have to have someone right there next to him to reassure him that he’s being really good with them. Which is a crime because most babies usually immediately love him.

33) How would they respond to being asked to watch over a child for an afternoon? “Uuuuhhh is there.... someone... else? More qualified?”

34) Do they enjoy climbing trees? No. Doesn’t really see the point.

35) In which of their own skill sets do they have the most confidence? Why? Threat assessment while referring to people, because it’s what he was good at in the Army.

36) Do they enjoy receiving compliments? How do they respond to it? Laugh it off and be super dismissive about it. “Thanks, but not really.”

37) How often are they the one to initiate physical contact? Not very often. He’s got to be in a rare affectionate mood to initiate. If someone else initiates he’d be happy to go along with it, though.

38) Do they prefer salty or sweet things? Sweet

39) Do they get the urge to jump from high places? ... ... You all know the angsty direction I could take this which is ABSOLUTELY true, but for now I’ll say no and be lying through my teeth.

40) Have they every written a dirty letter and actually sent it? Not at all. Dirty communication of any kind isn’t his forte.

41) How would they describe their love life? “Non-existent and loving it” (John or Matthew walk by) “... ... Okay so that was an outright lie and I’m happy.”

42) How would they describe their sex life? “Not bad” - he borders on ace so it doesn’t happen much, which he’s absolutely fine with.

43) Do they hide objects? What and where? He doesn’t hide any objects. He figures he hides enough of his personal life, why add more things to the list?

44) What are their reasons for getting up in the morning (outside of achieving their main goal)? Again there’s a very heavy, very true, very angsty answer that I could go with, but for now - he doesn’t want to disappoint and/or worry Nic, John or Matthew, so he’ll get up for them, then genuinely enjoy the day just because he gets to spend time with them.

45) Who is their greatest confidant? Who confides in them? Nic. She was the first one in years to not pry into his life with annoying, over-asked questions. She didn’t constantly give him pitying looks either. She treated him like a regular person and let him come to her with details about his life, so she earned his trust and friendship, and that gives her confidant status. And it’s mutual for that reason.

46) What is something they’ve always wanted to do, but know they shouldn’t? Tell off his parents for being shitty people. He could, but there’s already been so much damage between them and done to himself he’s afraid he’d rip apart what shreds of a relationship they have left.

47) Is there someone whose laugh makes them laugh as well? Nic again, John on occasion, Whitehorse, Matthew

48) How festive are they on holidays? Depends on who he’s with. If he’s alone, he’ll be vaguely festive. Put him with Nic, or whichever boyfriend he has depending on the Universe, or his family he does have a good relationship with: “Hell yeah, give me that ugly sweater, Hell yeah I’ll help you with the ham, Hell yeah I’ll play Santa for the kids.”

49) How would they respond to their ears ringing for an extended period of time? Would drive him absolutely bonkers and he’ll try any trick in the book to make it stop.

50) How likely is it that they would be the first to point out a full moon or a beautiful sunset? He wouldn’t be the first to point it out but he’d be the first to notice it.

#Deputy Grant #Sad sad sad neutral sad ANGST neutral CHRISTMAS #is exactly how these answers go #amistrio

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pietrotheavenger · 6 years

Text

the four times steve rogers almost kisses you and the first time he does

summary: steve rogers has been smitten with you ever since you joined the avengers. it’s only a matter of time until he kisses you.

pairings: steve rogers x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, blood, near death experiences

a/n: i told you i’d be back! do you like it better when i write in second person or third? do you want to see an au!bucky barnes x reader series, an au!steverogers x reader series, or an au!the avengers x reader series with a dash of au!steve rogers x reader on the side? this is for @prettyyoungtragedy‘s 2k writing challenge! congrats on 2k sweet pea <3

word count: 4300ish

the four times steve rogers almost asks you on a date and the time he does

the first time that steve rogers almost kissed you, you weren’t paying any attention. if you had so much as made eye contact with the poor, lovesick puppy, he would’ve gotten all the encouragement he needed.

it was around 2 in the afternoon, when tony told FRIDAY to let everyone know that he bought pizza for everyone. you had come sprinting down the hallway, dressed in a pair of nike bastketball shorts, one of bruce’s old college sweaters, and socks, your hair flying everywhere like a madwoman. the socks on your feet caused you to continue propelling forward, even when you stopped, throwing you into the arms of an unsuspecting super soldier. he licked his lips, subconsciously, in preparation.

it would’ve been one of the scenes out of a movie, if your heart wasn’t set on the pizza, that you knew that everyone would grab a box of and return to their respective bedrooms. “oh, steve!” you exclaimed, looking around him to see several boxes stacked on the island. you grabbed his shoulders and pulled yourself to your feet, patting his bicep, as you briskly walked away, snatching a box of pizza.

sam was leaned against the counter, relishing his slice of pizza and watching the whole ordeal with an amused expression. “hey cap, what’s with the red face?” he teased, bursting into laughter when he was met with an icy glare. you had hopped up onto the counter, possessively clutching your box and stuffing your face, simultaneously. you spoke up once you had choked it down.

“hey sam, cap, you two doing anything right now?” you opened up your box and offered a slice to steve, who was standing awkwardly, his hands hanging at his sides. he happily grabbed a slice.

“i got the next training slot, in about ten minutes, but if it’s quick, i can help ya’,” sam spoke, crossing his arms over his chest.

“you know what? i’ll just bug steve. i have the 7 o’clock training slot reserved, and i have time on my hands,” you jumped down, and made towards the sectional sofas. “c’mere!”

he looked at sam, with a slightly horrified expression. his pizza hung limply from his hand, half way to his mouth. sam shrugged, then pointed in the direction that you had just gone, “you heard her. go.”

for the next few hours, steve entertained you with card tricks, you (mostly) bested him in multiple card games, and shared the box of pizza.

team movie nights; meant to be bonding experiences but usually ended up being a shitshow. but this night, it was different. it was your turn to pick the movie. “listen up, losers!” you stood in front of the flat screen t.v., your hands on your hips. this time, you were dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, and yet another one of bruce’s old college sweatshirts. “this is the best franchise ever, and if anyone of you ruins it for me, i will murder you in your sleep,” you punctuated your last phrase by jabbing your finger at everyone sat in front of you.

natasha and clint were on one side, quietly bickering amongst themselves. sam’s head rested in her lap, looking evidently annoyed with the her and clint. bucky took the corner, his hair pulled up in a bun and looking awfully excited, with a bowl of popcorn in his lap. steve sat a foot or so away from him, his arm thrown around the back of the sofa. when you approached him, he let his arm fall to his side. the first pirates of the caribbean movie flickered to life in front of you as you settled into your spot, next to him. your elbow sat on his right shoulder, your head propped up on your hand, as you took popcorn from the bowl in his lap.

he adored your commentary. he heard everything that you grumbled under your breath, and it only made the affection he had for you swell even more. you would occasionally make remarks to him, and he didn’t always know how to respond, but he would always, at least, give you one of his signature bashful smiles. by the end of the movie, you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, your legs strewn across his lap. “what am i supposed to do?” he whisper-yelled, and looked at bucky with wide eyes, and a panicked expression.

“you take her to bed,” bucky shrugged, flicking a sleeping sam in the forehead, “wake up, sleeping beauty.” sam groaned in response and swatted him away.

“wait ‘til i show this to her in the morning,” nat chuckled, snapping a few pictures of the two of you. clint had left the second the ending credits began.

“nat,” steve began, in a warning tone.

“cool it, captain weenie,” she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, before stalking off to her own room.

“bucky, i’m begging you,” he turned to his friend, who flashed him a peace sign before receding into the shadows of the hallway.

he groaned to himself, before securing one arm under your legs, and the other behind your back, and stood up. your head lolled into his chest and he looked down to see that you were still sleeping. “okay, i got this,” he muttered to himself.

“FRIDAY, be quiet. take me to y/n’s floor,” he hissed, as loud as he dared to. you stirred in your sleep, as he stepped into the elevator. “hey, go back to sleep,” he softly spoke, when your eyes began to bat open. you brought your hand up to clutch the soft material of his t-shirt, and hummed something unintelligible back.

he could’ve kissed you. in all your tangled hair, drool face, sleepy glory. he wanted nothing more than to bring his lips to yours. but, he couldn’t. he knew that you were unconscious and that it just wouldn’t be right to kiss you, to force himself onto you when you wouldn’t even know it. it wouldn’t be fair to you. so he looked away, focusing his eyes on his reflection on the mirrored walls.

the door to your room swung open, when steve approached it. he silently thanked FRIDAY in his head, moving towards your bed. he managed to pull the covers back before placing you down into the sheets. “i want,” you began a sentence, but let it fall flat as you reached for him, blindly, while he pulled your blanket over your form.

“sleep,” he replied, his voice gentle. he let his hand linger on your arm before stepping out of your room.

steve believed that netflix was the greatest thing that happened while he was iced. he loved watching netflix. to be specific, the office. the third time he almost kissed you, began with him all cozy in his bed; his attention on the t.v. screen, the ambient light casting weird shadows across his face. he was so absorbed in the show, that when he heard a knock at his door, he flinched. “who is it?” he asked FRIDAY. his room was always soundproof.

“it is ms. y/l/n.”

you had gone out for the night and promised to bring steve back a tub of ice cream, since you had eaten all of his, two nights ago.

he paused the show and threw his quilt off, standing up, “let her in.” he arched his back, stretching, as the door swung open. “didn’t expect you to be back so soon. what’s-” he began, but stopped abruptly when you crumpled into a heap at the threshold, clutching your shoulder. “hey, hey, hey,” he rushed over, crouching down, examining you.

“got shot,” you rasped out, looking up at him. there was a trail of drying blood at the corner of your mouth. he felt rage overcome his senses for a moment. “but i got your ice cream,” you held up a plastic bag with your other arm.

“i hope you got that before you were shot,” he murmured, before helping you up and leading you to his bathroom. the door to his room shut on its own. he switched the light on and got you to sit up on the marble counter. he grabbed his first aid kit from underneath his sink, and began to work, cutting part of your shirt open. he panicked slightly at the sight of all your blood, but he took a deep breath. you would freak out more if he started freaking out.

“took out the bullet,” you choked out, receiving an empathetic grimace. you did have the ability to manipulate metal, so it wasn’t as gruesome as it could’ve been. he stood in between her legs, cleaning the wound. you hissed in pain, your head falling back, “sweet baby jesus.”

“squeeze my arm,” he told you, continuing without hesitation. you had an iron grip on his bicep, not letting go once, the entire time he wiped the blood away.

“jesus christ,” you grunted, tilting forward to let you forehead rest on his shoulder. “can we just, jesus, take a breather for a second?”

“y/n,” his voice was stern, unwavering, “you’ve lost blood, you can’t lose anymore. i have to close this up as soon as possible. i have numbing cream, and you can take some tylenol after this. in the morning, we’re calling helen in, and you’re going to get this checked out, because i’m not a doctor. got it?”

“but she has the day off.”

“then i’ll ask helen to call in a replacement, alright?” you pulled back and nodded, sweat shining on your forehead. he wanted to press his lips against yours, to reassure you that everything would be fine, that he was right there. instead, he cupped your cheek, “it’s all good? okay?” he stared, intensely, into your eyes. you nodded vigorously, jolting your shoulder.

“jesus,” you drew out the last syllable, pulling away from his hand to look up, attempting to keep the tears at bay.

“stop talking about jesus, and help me with this bullet wound,” he was serious, but there was a joking tone in his voice. “hold this,” he put something in your hand to squeeze instead of his arm. he had to stitch the wound and he needed all of his focus on the task at hand.

after finishing up, while washing his hands, he asked you, “weren’t you out with your friends? who did this?” he looked to you for an answer, turning the sink off and wiping his hands off on the hand towel.

“i don’t know,” you shrugged with your good shoulder, “i saw these guys messing with a girl, so i stepped in to help her, and they shot me and ran off. i was—am— drunk, and my senses were delayed. god, i’m so dumb, i should’ve known better,” you shook your head to yourself, “the poor girl was so scared, she ran off in the opposite direction. man, i must be a pretty shitty superhero. can’t catch the bad guys, and can’t help the good ones. or myself.”

“hey, you’re not a bad superhero,” he was bent over, putting the first aid kit back into place. you didn’t respond. “you’re not a bad superhero,” he straightened back up. “you know that.” a single tear slipped down your cheek. “c’mere,” he pulled you into a hug, careful of your shoulder, and let you cry into his shirt.

“i thought i was going to die,” your words were muffled. he squeezed you tighter. “i wouldn’t have left that alleyway if i hadn’t owed you that ice cream. don’t want any of that unfinished business ghost shit.” you were joking, and steve couldn’t help but smile, until he caught the seriousness in your words.

“don’t say that,” he exhaled into you hair. “you would’ve come back. you had to have come back.”

“it’s the truth, steve,” you pulled back to look at him. your face was stained with tears and your hair was messed up. but you still looked beautiful. “you’re the only reason i didn’t stay there and bleed out. i thought i was gonna die, so what was the point in making an effort? but, i took the subway up here, anyways. because of you.”

“you took the subway?” his eyebrows shot up.

“yeah, how else would i have gotten here?” you cracked a smile. “my dna is all over the train to get up here.”

“god, y/n, you could’ve called me.” you looked away, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. “y/n,” he slowly breathed out your name. “i’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere. i want you to realize that.”

“thank you, steve,” you craned your head to kiss his cheek. “can you help me change my top?” you asked, after several beats of silence. his face reddened, and he took a tiny step back.

“y-yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck. he grabbed your waist and pulled you down, so that your feet were on the ground. “how do we-“ he began, but you interrupted him.

“this is already ruined, just cut it open. could i borrow a shirt? i’ll try not to get blood on it,” you patted the bandage on your shoulder.

“okay, yup, i can do that,” he stepped backwards, ran into the doorframe, tripped and caught himself on the wall, then proceeded to his wardrobe, offering you a wave. you bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing, before grabbing the scissors from the counter, and beginning your attempts to cut the form fitting top open. underneath, you were wearing a strapless bra.

after slipping his shirt on, with assistance from steve, you left to go to your own room. steve sat on the edge of his bed, with his head in his hands. you had slipped from right between his fingers, once again.

the fourth time that steve rogers almost kissed you, was his birthday. every morning, he woke up at 5. he downed the bottle of water on his night stand, pumped out 50 or so push ups, checked his emails, took a shower, and dressed in his training gear. by the time he was done, it would be 5:30.

but on his birthday, he decided to let himself rest. he didn’t set his alarm for that day, knowing he’d wake up around 6, on his own. precisely, at 5:30, there was a soft knock on his door. “who is it?” his voice was thick with sleep.

“ms. y/l/n,” FRIDAY responded.

“let her in,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the door opened and you entered.

“oh, were you sleeping? i can come back later?” you stopped in your tracks when you saw him still in bed.

“no, no, it’s fine,” he grunted, sitting up. he saw you standing, bashfully, a wrapped gift in one hand and a cupcake with a lit candle in the other.

“happy birthday, cap,” you grinned. he couldn’t help but recpriocate it.

“you didn’t have to, y/n,” he raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes.

“sure i didn’t, but i did anyways,” you shrugged. he let out a laugh and patted the spot beside him, on his bed. you sat down, placing the gift next to you.

“if you wanna brush your teeth, i can wait,” you offered, but he shook his head. “okay, make a wish!” he closed eyes and wished for the same exact thing that he wished for on dandelions, eyelashes, and pennies, then blew it out. “yay! woot woot!” you exclaimed. you peeled back a part of the wrapper and held the pastry up to his mouth. he took a large bite before moaning in pleasure.

“god, that is delicious!”

“really? i’ve been up since 2:30 making them!” you gushed, then your eyes turned wide when you realized what you said.

“y/n,” he began, but you cut him off.

“today is your birthday, steve. you can yell at me tomorrow,” you held your hands up in defence before grabbing the gift next to you and holding it out to him. “okay, i came across your gift last month, when we were in the former-shield-now-hydra base. i kept it a secret because i didn’t know if i’d be able to fully recover it, which i did. it’s not much but i hope you like it.”

he grabbed the gift and held it up to his ear, shaking it, and earning a smile from you. “okay, let’s open her up,” he mumbled to himself, tearing off a corner of the plain brown paper. in it was a picture frame and a letter on top.

“read the letter later,” you were getting impatient, taking the letter and slamming it on his nightside table so he could see what was underneath. it was a very old picture of steve and his parents. he didn’t remember taking the picture, but here it was in his hands. he thought he lost them forever, but now he had a tiny piece of them. his eyes welled up with tears, nostalgia washing over him.

“i-“ he started but his voice cracked.

“oh, come here, you big goof,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him, as he clung onto you tightly, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. weirdly enough, he felt a sense of closure. he felt complete, now that he had this picture. things were vastly different in the twenty first century, and he couldn’t count the days where he wished to be back in the 40’s, but now he had the part of his old life that he missed the most; his family.

“i could never thank you enough,” he murmured into your hair. he had a sudden, overwhelming urge to crash his lips onto yours, but not being able to see your lips kept his feelings at bay, momentarily.

“you don’t have to, steve. you’ve already done so much for me.”

the two of you stayed like that for several more moments, before you forced yourself to pull away. you ran a hand through his messy bed hair, and said to him, “go back to sleep. we’ll come in again and surprise you with a cake, this time. act surprised.” you kissed his cheek before getting up and exiting his room. but before you left you looked over your shoulder. “happy birthday, steve rogers.”

the first time steve rogers ever kissed you was on a mission. it was going perfectly well. everything was going just as planned. on the field was tony, steve, wanda, and yourself. pietro was on the quinjet for back up and bruce was operating it, and was the back up for the back up.

the mission was wrapped up, but now you just had to go back to the quinjet. tony had flown wanda up there in his suit. she’d gotten grazed by a bullet and pietro was tending to her. you and steve were fighting through a few agents, nothing that you couldn’t handle. the ones that you had been fighting were now on the ground, as steve tossed another one over his head. “watch out!” you cried out, stepping in front of steve. an agent had approached him, with a knife, but you interfered just in time. he slashed your side with the blade, you let out a yelp, as you effectively sought out his pressure points, bringing him instantly to the ground. you brought your hand to your waist, pressing down on the wound. you could feel the blood seep through your fingers, but luckily the dark material of your stealth suit hid most of it.

“are you okay, y/n?” steve rushed over to you, looping an arm around you, pulling your own arm over his shoulder, helping you to where bruce had circled around and was waiting for you both to board so you could take off. tony was on, by then.

“of course, cap, just a scratch,” you offered a tight lipped smile.

“let’s get you onto the quinjet.”

once you were on, and the entrance closed behind you, you collapsed in steve’s arms. “y/n!” he cried out, guiding you to the floor. “help!” he called out, laying you down, and moving your hand away. “god, ‘just a scratch’ my ass!”

“kiss me,” you rasped.

“what?” he threaded his fingers through your hair and elevated your head up.

“kiss me, goddamnit!” he leaned down and brushed his lips against yours before fully pressing them down. he pulled away when he heard thundering footsteps.

“i could’ve taken care of myself, you know,” he pushed a strand of your hair away from your face.

“not with a knife in your back.”

tony burst in, a bruise forming around his eye. “y/n got cut,” steve immediately said to him.

“oh, c’mon,” he groaned, kneeling down beside you. “bleeding all over my quinjet,” he mumbled under his breath, checking out the wound. “we’ll clean it and wrap her up, but we can’t do anything more than that. we’ll touch down in an hour or so. try to get her out of the stealth suit or we’ll have to cut it off.” he stood up abruptly, leaving to get supplies.

“thigh holster,” your voice was a squeak. steve reached over and grabbed your blade, and began carefully cutting your stealth suit.

“why do we always find ourselves here, y/n?” he asked, under his breath. you exhaled a shaky laugh. by the time tony was back, there was a sizable hole around the deep gash. he had a wet wash cloth in one hand and large gauze in the other. he set to work, wiping the blood from around the wound, as steve applied pressure.

after several adrenaline filled minutes, your torso was wrapped in gauze, and tony and steve had gotten you up onto the stretcher. “let someone at the tower know that y/n needs immediate medical attention,” steve said to the man beside him. they were both covered in blood and breathing hard. tony nodded, and left once again.

“so dumb,” he sighed, “you shouldn’t have done that, y/n. i have the quick healing abilities, not you. you know this means that you won’t be able to go on that mission to rome, right?”

you grunted. he didn’t know whether it was of pain or protest. “really?” your voice cracked.

“it’s next week, too soon.”

“but i wanna go,” your voice was whiney, but steve didn’t mind. he’d do anything and everything to take your pain off your mind.

“but you can’t go. we can go some other time. when we don’t have a mission,” he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, humming.

“steve, has anyone ever told you that you are so beautiful?” your words were slurring together by that point.

“no,” he shook his head, a small smile growing and taking over his features. his face was dirty and his hair was messy, but you would be lying if you said that he didn’t look gorgeous.

“well, you are,” you raised your eyebrows, and waved your hand at him.

“has anyone every told you that you are so beautiful?” his voice went up an octave higher at the end.

“yes, all the time. now, let’s talk about you more, you’re more interesting,” you wrinkled your nose at him when he burst out in laughter.

“i’m an old man, y/n,” his hand came to rest on the edge of the stretcher.

“but that’s what makes you so interesting! you don’t look a day over 30, cap!” you were awfully enthusiastic, even wiggling to somehow prove your point.

“do you have any questions about my interesting life?”

“yes. did you really kiss me?” your question surprised him, evidently in his facial expression. he cleared his throat and nodded. “can you do it again?” you were barely heard over the din of the engines.

“you’re not yourself, right now, champ. just pull through a little longer,” he noticed your eyes drooping, he cupped your cheek, swiping dirt away from your cheekbone.

“no,” you responded, stubbornly.

“what?”

“i am myself. i always want to kiss you, and i want to kiss you right now, so i am me. now please, for the love of god and all things holy, kiss me.”

and so he did.

bonus:

the following week, you were finally off of bed rest. steve had been there when you woke up, just walking into the room with a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand. they were beautiful, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were allergic to pollen. he frequently visited you, a deck of cards in his pocket. doctor cho, or whoever happened to be there, would eventually have to kick him out because your heart rate would rise too high due to feeling frustration. needless to say, in your state, he was winning more games than you.

“good morning, steve!” you called out, as you entered the common space. he was sitting on the sectional, flicking through the newspaper. clint was passed out beside him, a book on his chest.

“hey! look at you, walking and everything!” he set the newspaper down and stood up.

you spun in a circle, with your arms out, “you know it!”

“i learned a new card trick. wanna see it?” he arched a brow, coming closer to you. he offered you his arm and you accepted it, after you nodded your head. “gotta grab my deck, mind coming with me?” he looked down at you, his lips pursed together. you nodded again.

in his room, the second the door closed, he had you pushed up against the door, and was kissing you with all he had in him, like he would never be able to again, being cautious with your injury. “do you have any idea how long i’ve waited for this?”

permanent taglist: open

@ssweet-empowerment ; @httpmcrvel ;

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adrianna-m-scovill · 6 years

Text

Ticket to Ride (Barson fic)

This is stupid, and ridiculous, and pointless, and I don’t care because I needed a distraction during work today and this idea did the trick ;) Basically, it’s Barba speaking almost exclusively in song lyrics while he removes some clothing.

No real smut. Maybe I’ll write a more serious version of this scene at some point, but this one is just...fluff :)

Around 1800 words, song list included at the end.

Also on AO3

Benson walked into the quiet, dark apartment. She shucked her jacket and hung it on the coatrack, kicked off her shoes, and dropped her purse on the table. She unbuckled her gun belt and put it on top of the bookcase, out of habit, even though she knew Noah wasn’t home.

Her bedroom door was closed, but there was light painting the carpet beneath it, and she frowned as she headed in that direction. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping into the room.

Barba was standing in the middle of the floor, fully dressed in a suit and tie—everything but shoes. She stopped in the doorway, surprised. “Um…hello,” she said.

“Hey, baby,” he answered, and she didn’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

She narrowed her own eyes, looking him over. “What’s wrong with you?”

He spread his hands. “I like New York in June, how about you?”

“It’s April,” she answered. She pushed the door closed and crossed her arms. “How much have you had to drink?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. “The second you walked through the door I caught a buzz.”

She made a sound of exasperation. “It’s been a long day. What’s your plan, here?”

“I’ve got two tickets to paradise.”

“Well, I’ve got one ticket to sleep.”

“You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling?”

She glared at him, putting her fists on her hips. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Does anybody really know what time it is?”

“Did your multilingual button get stuck on song lyrics?” she asked.

He almost laughed at that—she could see him struggling to keep his expression composed. He reached up and loosened the knot of his tie with one hooked finger. “I’ll give you half a point for that, but that’s the last clue you’re getting,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Clue to what?”

“The games people play.”

“I’ve been in these clothes for eighteen hours, the last six bent over my desk doing paperwork. Six hours, Barba. I’m sweaty, sticky, tired…”

“Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be.”

She hesitated. “Did you really just quote Nirvana?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Here we are now, entertain us,” he said, pulling his tie over his head and tossing it toward the chair.

She felt a pleasant flutter in her stomach, an automatic response to the heat in his gaze. “What are you doing?” she asked, although she thought she was finally catching on.

“Dirty deeds done dirt cheap,” he said.

She laughed, although her humor was still mixed with a significant dose of annoyance. “If quoting AC/DC is your idea of romance…” she said, shaking her head.

He shrugged out of his blazer and dropped it over the back of the chair. “You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul. You’ll be my breath should I grow old. You are my lover, you’re my best friend. You’re—”

“I get it,” she laughed. “You don’t have to quote the whole song.”

His fingers were at his suspender clips, and he was looking at her, silent. Waiting.

She lowered her arms to her sides. Her irritation and tiredness were sliding away. “Rod Stewart?”

With a small smirk, he unclipped his suspenders and flipped them over his shoulders. “You’re my brown-eyed girl,” he said, with a wink of encouragement.

“Uhh,” she said, trying to think. He untucked his shirt and started unbuttoning it. “You know I’m bad at this,” she said.

He paused with his fingers on the last button of his shirt. “I need a lover that won’t drive me crazy,” he said.

“Hey, now, careful,” she said, and he chuckled softly. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, once more crossing her arms. Her annoyance was purely an act, now, though. “Mellencamp. Or…Benatar?”

He pulled off his shirt and threw it toward the chair. “Tonight’s the night. It’s gonna be alright.”

“More Rod Stewart? Did you just sit around listening to the oldies station?”

He lifted one foot and peeled off his bright-colored sock. “I like that old time rock and roll.”

“Hmm,” she answered. “Bob Seger, and you’re just giving me easy ones because you want to get naked.”

He smiled, removing his other sock. “I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet.”

She snorted. “Hardly,” she teased.

“Thought an angel swept you off your feet.”

“Really?”

“But I’m about to turn up the heat.” He unbuttoned his fly.

“Is this Adam Lambert?”

“I’m here for your entertainment.” Unzipped, slowly.

“How do you even know that song?” she asked.

He slid his trousers down his hips, and her heart was pounding in her chest. Desire was burning, hot and low in her belly. He lifted one foot, then the other, pulling the pants off. He slung them over the chair and looked at her, standing in his boxers and undershirt.

“I heard it through the grapevine,” he said, and she laughed.

“Marvin Gaye?”

He pulled his undershirt up over his head and offered her a sheepish smile. “Do ya think I’m sexy?” he asked, and she laughed again, holding out a hand.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man,” she said.

Grinning, he added, “So big and so strong?” He walked toward her, stopping between her knees, and said, softly, “Jay and the Americans.”

“Really? I don’t even know who—” She stopped, her breath catching in her throat, as his fingers went to the top button of her shirt. She swallowed, holding his gaze.

“It’s okay if you love me,” he said, quietly, holding her gaze as he unbuttoned her shirt. “It’s okay if you don’t. I’m not afraid of you running away, honey, I’ve got this feeling you won’t.”

“Tom Petty,” she managed. He slid the shirt over her shoulders and she pulled her arms out. He tossed it over his shoulder in the direction of the chair, and she smiled. “I want you, show me the way,” she muttered. They both knew she wasn’t good at this game, but that didn’t matter.

“Peter Frampton,” he said, and she got slowly to her feet. He didn’t back up, and they were close, their bodies almost—but not quite—touching. They were eye to eye, heart to heart, toe to toe. He reached down without looking and unfastened her trousers. “Do you wanna make love? Or do you just wanna fool around?” he asked, his voice low as he pushed her pants over her hips.

“Is that a song?” she asked breathlessly as the trousers pooled around her ankles. She stepped out and kicked the slacks aside. She was standing in her bra and underwear, and socks.

“My eyes adore you,” he murmured, lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

She smiled and said, “Four Seasons. Which you know I know, since you dragged me to see Jersey Boys.”

Smirking, he reached behind her back and unhooked her bra with a twist of his fingers. “Tell me what you want, what you…” He paused for dramatic effect and raised his eyebrows. “…really, really want,” he finished.

“You did not just quote the Spice Girls?”

He grinned at her, but he didn’t remove her bra. She was so caught up in her desire, wrapped in the heat between them, that it took her a moment to understand that he was waiting for permission. She could barely remember the bad mood with which she’d arrived, or the tiredness. The light in his eyes had given her a burst of energy, and his arousal, caged only by the thin material of his boxers, had awakened an answering ache of desire inside of her.

“Let’s just kiss ‘til we’re naked,” she suggested, and she saw his surprise. A small frown creased his brow. “Ah, I stumped you,” she murmured. “Thank Rollins for a little ‘Versace on the Floor,’ huh?” She reached up and stripped off her bra, dropping it to the floor.

He tipped his head, covering her mouth with his, and she stepped closer, pressing up against his body. His fingers slid into her hair, and she accepted his tongue willingly—eagerly—into her mouth. Her hands went to his waistband, but she hesitated. After a moment, he broke away from her mouth and pulled back to look at her.

“I didn’t earn it yet,” she said, and his lips curved into a smile.

“Baby, let’s lay down and dance?” He could tell that she didn’t know the answer. He considered. “I wanna rock and roll all night?”

“Kiss.”

“Okay,” he said, and she was laughing as he once more claimed her mouth. She sank back onto the bed, and he followed her down, his lips on hers and his hand in her hair. He moved his mouth to her jaw, and she tipped her head up so he could kiss her throat. She shivered beneath him. “I wanna kiss you all over,” he murmured against her skin. “All over again, ‘til the night closes in.”

“Um,” she said, trying to think of lyrics as she slid her hands over the warm skin of his back. “I’m so excited?”

He laughed, lifting his head to look down at her, his eyes sparkling with humor. “You are so beautiful to me,” he said, softly.

“What was the one about making love?”

“Do you wanna make love, or do you just wanna fool around?”

“Both,” she said, and he grinned. “Raf?”

“Hmm.”

“I love you more today than yesterday,” she said, holding his gaze. “But…”

He was still smiling. “Not as much as tomorrow,” they finished in unison, and he lowered his head. He hesitated, his lips hovering just above hers, and asked, “Does this mean you’ve traded in your ticket to sleep for a…ticket to ride?”

She was still laughing when he kissed her.

Song list:

“Hey! Baby,” by Bruce Channel

“How About You,” by Frank Sinatra

“Drunk on You,” by Brett Eldredge

“Two Tickets to Paradise,” by Eddie Money

“You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling,” by The Righteous Bros.

“Does Anybody Really Know What Time it is,” by Chicago

“Games People Play,” by Joe South

“Come as You Are” and “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” by Nirvana

“Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap,” by AC/DC

“You’re in My Heart,” “Tonight’s the Night,” and “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy,” by Rod Stewart

“Brown Eyed Girl,” by Van Morrison

“I Need a Lover That Won’t Drive Me Crazy,” by John Mellencamp

“Old Time Rock and Roll,” by Bob Seger

“For Your Entertainment,” by Adam Lambert

“Heard it Through the Grapevine,” by Marvin Gaye

“Come a Little Bit Closer,” by Jay and the Americans

“Breakdown,” by Tom Petty

“Show Me the Way,” by Peter Frampton

“Do You Wanna Make Love,” by Peter McCann

“My Eyes Adore You,” by The Four Seasons

“Wannabe,” by The Spice Girls

“Versace on the Floor,” by Bruno Mars

“Baby, Let’s Lay Down and Dance,” by Garth Brooks

“Rock & Roll All Nite,” by KISS

“Kiss You All Over,” by Exile

“I’m So Excited,” by The Pointer Sisters

“You Are So Beautiful,” by Joe Cocker

“More Today Than Yesterday,” by Spiral Starecase

“Ticket to Ride,” by The Beatles

#Barson #SVU fic #Rafael Barba #Olivia Benson #song lyrics #fluff #mild stripping #svu fanfiction

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blissfullylostinarabbithole · 7 years

Text

Outsider Pt. 6

Pairing: Step Dad Tony Stark x Teen Reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: You see first hand how your life is changing, and Bucky decides to take you out.

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After a few hours of buying things you didn’t even like, for school, for photos, for whatever event Tony might need you to look nice for, you were finally allowed to go to shops that had things you would actually wear.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere else for lunch? There are so many fantastic restaurants and you want to eat at a food court?”

You gestured to the shops across the street. “Look! Four stores with regular clothes, a music shop, and two book stores. Why leave? Besides, I just want a smoothie.” A soft tittering from the person behind you made you aware you had been speaking a bit too loud. You offered him a small, embarrassed smile before your mom started talking again.

“Ok, fine,” she put her hands up in surrender.

Halfway through your meal, you noticed a familiar face with a phone aimed in your direction.

“What’s security supposed to do?” you asked.

Your mom slowly put her sandwich down and gave a quick glance around the area. “They’re supposed to keep an eye out for suspicious looking people, and make sure no one gets too close. Why?”

“Cuz there’s a lady that’s been following us. This is the third time I see her.”

“Ok,” she nodded as she pulled her own phone out. “Describe her.”

“Average height and weight, about mid 40s. Shoulder length brown hair, like walnut colored I guess… She’s wearing tan dress pants and a dark gray jacket thing with lots of buttons.”

She didn’t pause in her texting. “A pea coat?”

“I don’t fucking know,” you huffed. “It looks kinda like a military jacket with the two columns of buttons.”

“That’s a pea coat, sweetie.”

“Why the hell’s she wearing that? It’s almost July.”

“What’s she doing?”

“I dunno, taking pictures or video or something. The back of her phone’s facing us.”

Not long after, three men in suits approached the woman. After some exchanged words, she opened her coat, probably to show if she had anything concealed beneath it. When they left her alone, your mom’s phone went off and she read her message.

“Clear. She’s just a gossip columnist taking pictures.”

“Wonderful. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not stuffing my face,” you grumbled as you stood to throw your cup away.

“I know it’s weird, but you just have to pretend they’re not there. After you confirm they’re harmless, of course,” she stressed. “I’m proud of you. Watching your surroundings is more important now.”

“Rig- oof!” you had bumped into someone as you backed away from the table. “Sorry, excuse me.”

The same man from the line shot you a wide grin. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he dismissed with a giggle.

“I spoke too soon,” your mom teased, earning an eyeroll from you.

As you continued your shopping, you couldn’t help but look at the people around you. All the people watching you and some even snapping pictures. As far as you were concerned, no one should have known who you were. You flew in, got in a fancy car, and went straight to the tower. Who would have seen you? Then it hit you. You still had no idea how your mom came to marry Tony. For all you knew, she could have already been on the cover of every tabloid in the country.

Seein you were beginning to get agitated, your mom began to rub your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you.

“Tony says the trick is to pretend you don’t care,” she whispered. “Don’t give them anything to hold over you.”

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

“Can I ask you a stupid question?” Bucky murmured from beside you.

“Sure.”

“What do the words next to peoples’ names mean?” He pointed at the bolded words in brackets before the players names.

“That’s their clan name. If you like the people you play with, or if you have friends that play, you can make a clan. Not only does it ensure you get on the same team, but you can also participate in clan only events and get exclusive weapons, upgrades, skins, all sorts of stuff.”

“Oh.”

“You get ranked on a leaderboard, too, and the higher your rank, the better the prizes you get.”

“You’re not in a clan,” he stated.

“Neither are you,” you shot back a little defensively.

“I didn’t know what it was,” he justified. For a little while, all you could hear were the buttons of your controllers being pressed. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You wanna be in a clan with me?”

Briefly looking away from the screen, you noticed his ears had turned pink. Realizing he’d never been comfortable enough to ask anyone regarding clan names, and given how long he’d been playing the game, you couldn’t help but feel grateful that he’d been able to ask you.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “What do you wanna call it?”

After going back and forth with what seemed like hundreds of suggestions, you finally decided on ‘Outsiders’ and began to build your kill count as a clan.

Going at it for hours, neither having stopped to join the others for dinner, your stomach started growling. Bucky snickered, only to be silenced by his own stomach calling out as if in response to yours. You both went to the kitchen to look for something, finding nothing satisfactory.

Bucky knocked softly on the counter, briefly lost in thought. “You wanna go to Brooklyn?” he asked suddenly.

You raised a quizzical brow. “What, like, now?”

“Yeah. There’s a 24 hour diner there that has the best food.”

“Alright,” you shrugged, hopping of the counter. “Let’s go.”

“Hang on, I gotta go wake Steve.”

“Why?”

Bucky looked away, awkwardly scratching his chin. “I’m technically not supposed to be out long without him. Tony insists some people are still uneasy about me bein’ on the team…”

“Oh,” you joined him in the elevator, not knowing how to respond to that. “Will he mind?”

“Not if you play along,” he smirked.

“What are you going to do?” you followed him to a door you assumed was Steve’s and watched him knock.

“Coming,” a groggy voice came from inside. The door opened, and Steve had to blink a few times to register who was calling at such a late hour. “What’s wrong, guys?” he yawned.

“Nothin’. We were wonderin’ if you’d come with us to get some burgers...in Brooklyn.”

Steve sighed and leaned his head against the door frame. “Can’t it wait til tomorrow?”

“It could, but we haven’t eaten and there’s nothing in the kitchen.” Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Bucky cut him off. “And before you tell me we shoulda eaten with everyone, remember that some people have lost another’s trust. It’s hard to be around someone who’s always lyin’ to ya, ya know.”

Steve’s eyes flickered to you and nodded, saying he’d be out in a minute before retreating back into his room. Bucky looked over, giving you a pleased smile when the door closed.

“You’re terrible,” you mouthed, unable to help your own smile.

“You’ll thank me when you taste the food,” he whispered as he led you back to the elevator to wait for Steve.

Steve wanted you to ask Tony or your mom if you could even leave the tower first, to which you replied that Tony’s not been given parental privileges and your mother was fast asleep. In the end, you compromised by having FRIDAY notify her if she were to wake before you returned.

Down in the garage, you followed Steve toward the cars until Bucky tugged your arm, leading you toward the motorcycles.

“Stevie, c’mon!” he called, half pleading. “I need to feel the wind on my face.”

Steve turned, sighing in defeat as you excitedly put on the helmet you were given. To your surprise, he didn’t argue, and hopped on his own bike as you climbed on behind Bucky.

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

The ride was exhilarating, and far too short for your taste. Bucky and Steve chuckled at your soft whine when the engines died and you had to get off. When you left the tower, you were thinking of only getting something small, but the trip had you in the best mood you’d been in since your mom returned from her trip, and you were actually feeling good enough to eat something substantial.

As you walked in, a stack of newspapers and magazines caught your eye as you saw yourself on the cover of some tabloid. You groaned internally, seeing someone, probably the woman in the coat, had snapped a photo when you bumped into the giggling man on your way to the garbage can. You hadn’t really paid much attention to him then, his red hair and a too big smile catching you off guard.

Following the guys to the large corner booth, you took a seat and began to peruse the menu. The server came and you placed your order, eyes growing wider as list of food the other two were ordering grew longer.

Conversation flowed easily, with Bucky telling you what he could remember of their days in the 40s, while Steve filled in the blanks. They asked about the ‘boyfriend’ you left behind, and laughed when you explained the joke to them. When the food arrived, enough to cover the whole table, they insisted you take some of everything and watched as every bite you took elicited sounds of pleasure. Bucky had promised the food would be incredible, and he didn’t disappoint.

When the food was gone, you excused yourself to the restroom and washed your hands, finding them ready to leave when you returned. You put on the helmet and mounted the bike before taking off. Almost immediately, you noticed you were going the wrong way.

“Hey guys?” you shouted at a stop light. “This isn’t the way we came from.”

“We’re not going back to the tower, yet,” Steve replied. “We’ve still got one more stop.”

Perking up, your smile grew as the minutes ticked by and a familiar smell became stronger. They were taking you to a beach. The bike had barely stopped, and you leapt off before the engine was cut off. You made a run for the water, tossing your shoes and socks off on the way, desperate to feel the sand under your feet again. When you reached the shore, you rolled the legs of your bottoms up so they wouldn’t get wet, and waded in until you were knee deep.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and allowed your other senses to take over. It smelled different, and the crashing wasn’t as loud, but it still sent a wave of comfort washing over you.

“Hey, you ok?” Bucky’s soft voice rang from beside you.

“I am now,” you smiled, gazing out as far as you could in the dark. You turned to look for Steve, who was making his way over as well.

The three of you stood in companionable silence, content smiles on your faces. You were glad to have some semblance of familiarity, while Steve embraced the rare moment he could feel at peace. Bucky was just happy he could do something good for someone. He didn’t think it was much, but the look on your face told him it meant more to you than he could have imagined.

The moment was over, though, when a large wave crashed into you, knocking you off your feet and soaking the others. You got up, coughing out the remainder of the salt water you managed not to swallow.

“Y/N, your boyfriend’s kind of a jerk,” Steve commented, taking your hand and pulling you back to them.

“Yeah, Doll, I think he might be mad at you.”

You dropped to you knees, unable to contain yourself as you burst out in a fit of giggles. The others joined you, and soon you were overtaken by deep belly laughs. Now that you were all wet, you splashed around and tried to knock each other down. When you tired, Steve had you hop on his back and carried you to where you parked, while Bucky brought everyone’s footwear.

At the tower, they walked you to your room, where you thanked them once again for the amazing night. You wanted to go to bed, but the ride back left you chilled to the bone due to your wet clothes, and needed to take a warm shower if you didn’t want to risk getting sick. When you were finally able to settle in, you drifted off peacefully for the first time since this nightmare began.

~ ~ TAG LISTS ~ ~

Permanent - @melconnor2007 @ria132love @psychicwitchphilosopher @sireennotsiren @silence–in–the–library @thefridgeismybestie

Avengers - @majd943

Outsider - @abbybills22 @whovianayesha @alicethecactus

#tony stark x reader #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Avengers #marvel #reader #reader insert

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beatmyaudio · 4 years

Text

2pac’s runninone Song Lyrics – https:’s ‘s www.azlyrics.com’s 19’s 2pac

2pac’s runninone Song Lyrics

2pac’s runninone Song Lyrics From Popular Hollywood Artist https:’s ‘s https://ift.tt/2yGZzGt 19’s 2pac from Album.

This song is sung by singer ” https:’s ‘s www.azlyrics.com’s 19’s 2pac ” in Year .

Lyrics of 2pac’s runninone :

[2Pac (Hussein Fatal):] (Mr. If you a bad boy) Yo, what’s up The police comin’ on, oh shit! Get out of there. Fatal, Outlawz I wanna up out this motherfucker Gon’ pass it Ain’t get me up but fuck that This Outlaw nigga

[2Pac:] If you a bad boy then you die Westside outlawz when we ride, get me high They fucked up when the rob me Put another contract on Mobb Deep If you a bad boy then you die Westside outlawz when we ride, get me high They fucked up when the rob me Put another contract on Mobb Deep

[Hussein Fatal:] I focus my locus thought on the enemies Sip off the Hennessy, it’s necessary to finish me I’m antisocial immortal, when it comes to the phone book Jersey them niggas down, they won’t broke ’em ’til it’s time to smoke ’em Hussein the terrorist Dig they think I’m crazy and [?] And as we speak they tryin’ to find me a therapist Rapid fire I clap and hire ’til you die a liar Strap in the city corners droppin’ on to spin the tires My man define ya 357 anaconda This enough to bring your mama then turn around and hear the drama Military camaraderie, outlaw ’til they body me Havoc I gotta have it steady blastin’ at Prodigy Mobb 6 feet deep, you try to bust me ’til death And I suppose you got the dopest moves like Chucky on fresh You know the verdict, who what when why he died murdered Get your physical diverted and your vision deserted

[2Pac:] Now ever since momma got fucked and papa ducked out Look at us, murderous thugs showin’ less love in the drug house Similar to savages, it’s a wonder we manage Bring chaos causin’ damage on our quest for cabbage They ask my style similar to cash we flaunt it Most wanted by the population murdered you for it Exploit your weakness revenge flow deep without release Criminal orders across the waters bringin’ the war to the streets Why fear me, fear the shit I speak Once this shit drop it’s heard on every fuckin’ street Like the sound of police Who run the streets really? In every hood legends grow From the hustlaz up at Harlem to shot callers in O’ And though, Congress, don’t want us to progress, we strapped My homie buried at an early age hustled to death His last breath, a lesson I possess like jewels Stay thugged out keep it movin’

Hey where that nigga

[Yaki Kadafi:] Halfway thugs don’t budge when we stalk the streets Sort of like [?] and narcotics when they walk the beat You speak the beef pussy draw down and drop it Hit you with 6 shots lay the law down and throw the shells in my pocket Gettin’ mines with nine cocked extortin’ Blocks pop with 22’s in my socks with the butt hangin’ out the chocolate You never seen time I travel across dream crime My rolls like a million dollar bills folded with green slime With my foes erased drink my Henney straight no chasin’ Catch my body like Haitian 5 minutes from the station

[Young Noble:] Hit the hole like Allen Iverson with confidence No finger prints don’t mean no evidence or proof the I was present At the scene of the crime around 10 niggas bleed After they made this punk fag motherfucker bleed Money was bloody as shit, y’all niggas shoulda seen it Bust a cap and freak with, bowin’ on your knees shit The Glock to your head nigga, don’t make no somethin’ action Hit innocent by-standers when he blasted, dump fuckin’ backwards Little homies puttin’ work for stripes But is it worth your life and g-rides runnin’ red lights I wish somebody would have t old me then Since I’m an outlaw like Napoleon ain’t no cell they can hold me in Or cage me in, crazy like Arabians Hold this spot like them niggas on Fabian Havin’ the fiend page me (page me) When they want the product, nigga I got to smoke Got this weed and the coke what you need what you want What you workin’ with? I’m on some immortal shit Outlawz we straight hurtin’ shit, use artillery to murder with Put on the block gangsta party and like ‘Pac Life’s hard from the ox me and my niggas on top (party)

[2Pac:] I know the law hate me dearly, comin’ for me We outlaws, thugged out, niggas runnin’ on E I know the law hate me dearly, comin’ for me We outlaws, thugged out, niggas runnin’ on E I know the law hate me dearly, they comin’ for me We outlaws, thugged out, niggas runnin’ on E I know the law hate me dearly, they comin’ for me We outlaws, thugged out, niggas runnin’ on E

[Nuttso:] With my Glock, quick to let it pop, fuck the law Carry steel cause I live on the nigga side of the law Ridin’ foes ’cause I can’t let hoes catch me slippin’ Quick to blow and dispose if you block on hittin’ Ridin’ high, blazin’, kryptonite got a nigga dazin’ Burpin’ and smurkin’ got on enemies before I grave ’em Ride ’em, look behind him, I see him, he slipped Had to stop light in a slowly night, this motherfuckin’ trick Slide over so I can dump and put it in em Damn, I guess this motherfucker know that I sent it Hit the pedal now we high speedin’ With the metal tryin’ to make these motherfuckers die speedin’ Up the way I seen him slow down Shit! I think I done bucked these hoes down Caught them runnin’ on e it kind of funny to me They know they was fuckin’ with me but they dumb to see

[2Pac:] Open up fire watch ’em expire when my shells split ’em Plus all them trick niggas basically can go to hell with ’em Fuck ’em they phony claimin’ they homies but they foes Speakin’ on thug niggas daily, while we nailin’ they hoes Explode boldly at my stage shows and formation Words are known to spray blaze as I raise my thug nation A crooked thought, cops get bought, no longer caught Out on bail, raised in hell, nigga fuck what you thought Did you cry when my girl died? Put out the hit, politic niggas worldwide, grabbin’ my dick I???ll never learn, take away the pain with sherm Throwin’ gas on my enemies watchin’ ’em burn Kamikaze, I???m shootin’ up the casket take the body Whip the corpse like a pi??ata and party His last breath, a straight lesson I possess like jewels Stay thugged out keep it movin’ Runnin’ on E. Stay thugged out keep it movin’ Runnin’ on E

[2Pac talking:] One time, one time for the niggas that stayed down for us Runnin’ on E Smif-n-Wessun the Cocoa Brovaz, Buckshot, BDI, runnin’ on E The Bootcamp Click What happened, that was it?

2pac’s runninone Song Lyrics

Youtube Channel Link

Lyrics, 2pac's runninone, English, Hollywood, https:'s 's www.azlyrics.com's 19's 2pac from WordPress https://ift.tt/2zvZPb8 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

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