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whatweknew · 1 year

Note

Hey <3

I absolutely love ur work & it makes my day when u post ^^

I saw that u take fluff requests rn :)

So how about this:

(Summer, Almost full moon) going to an old very nature-overgrown lake at night with damon, they get drunk on the way there and listen to all kinds of songs, even singing to some in a dramatic/silly way.

When they get there there’s all kind of sounds (frogs, fishes that come up to catch mosquitoes, crickets chirping) the phone dies aka no music, damon drinks even more & starts a serious topic

The convo leaves an awkward atmosphere & damon to digress just impulsively wants to go for a swim, he does and after a while y/n ain’t having it nomore & wants to go home. Damon tried to “lure” her in but she just laughed at him calling him all kinds of things.

She doesn’t wanna go home alone cuz it’s kinda scary, so she gets near the water & tries to make a compromise, he “makes it look like he’s coming out” only to pull her into the lake with him. She’s shocked and only gets madder with all his stupid drunk giggling (maybe they hug or even kiss in the water?) <3 xoxo

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Summary: Damon takes Y/N to yet another sight to see

Type: Fluff & some humour

Warning(s): alcohol use

Word Count: 2k

A/N: first offfff thank you so much for the request! Any type of interaction with this account is so appreciated and I'm grateful you chose me for this request :) I'm so happy you're enjoying What We Knew. Good stuff is coming, and I hope you enjoy this one <3

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, standing up,

“What? No, c’mon, let’s just stay here,” her brows furrowed and lips smiled,

“Let’s go,” he insisted, reaching for her hand and pulling her up,

“Alright, alright,” she sighed, letting him pull her, “but this,” she said, turning behind her and reaching for the too-large flask they had been sharing, “is being refilled and coming with us,” she nodded, rounding the couch to the liquor cart and grabbing a bottle of bourbon, “oh fuck,” she sighed, looking between her hands. Holding the flask in her left and the bottle in her right, her arms swayed without her wanting them to, “nope. Can’t do it,” she shook her head, “here,” she said, holding out the items to Damon,

“I love that instead of taking your inability to pour a drink as a sign to stop drinking, you just let someone else do it,” he shrugged, grabbing the items and Y/N chuckled,

“Whatever, we’re having fun,” she sighed. He filled the flask and looped his speaker round his wrist before they left the Salvatore Boarding House.

Damon was always showing her pretty places. Fields, meadows, rivers, forests, the like. So, as they stepped off the Salvatore’s property, into the verdance, she didn’t find herself questioning him or where he was taking her. Surely it would be somewhere beautiful. Somewhere she would love to see during this level of drunkenness. Though, after maybe twenty minutes of walking seemingly aimless through the dark bush, she pondered their destination,

“How much further?” She asked,

“Oh, come on it’s only been twenty minutes,” he rolled his eyes,

“Yeah, which is like, a billion years in drunk people time,” she shrugged and he snorted, that smile spreading across his lips,

“We’re almost there,” he said, glancing at her then forward again when a song neither of them had heard in however long came on,

“Oh my god,” Y/N said, bending her knees slightly in excitement, and Damon let his head back, chuckling at the song. It played for a few second and when they knew it was time for the first verse, Damon spoke up,

“Ready?” He asked, slowing to a stop and turning to her,

“Arabian Prince back with a style that’s hype,”

“Not slow and low, it’s the fast type,”

“Gettin’ dumped!”

“Can you hear the drums?”

“Yo Dre, why don’t you pump it up some?” She laughed, stepping forward,

“I pumped it up so now what’s up?”

“Yo Yella Boy add a little cut,” she said, bouncing with each step and moving her arms smoothly,

“What the hell, you think we need some bells?”

“Yeah homeboy might as well,” she shrugged,

“There it is, so now what’s next?”

“A little, so find me a ho-,”

“--oold it, wait a minute, you need somethin’ else in it,” he pointed, and the both of them stopped in their tracks and turned to each other,

“This what I want you to do,” they said in unison, “feel the groove,” they sang, bending their knees, “bust a move,”

“Yo, yo, I’m tired, what about you?” Damon sang,

“Man, this is something to dance to!” Y/N laughed and so did he. They turned forward again and he wrapped his arm over her shoulders. Their bodies moved to the beat, taking their steps with some bounce and their shoulders moving fun.

“Man that’s wack–” They started again in unison, but as they did, his speaker played that sad little noise and the music silenced. They both groaned,

“Aw fuckkk,” he said, looking up at the sky, “whatever,” he shrugged and rolled his eyes and Y/N chuckled, sighing. She took a deep breath, cheeks sore from smiling so wide. She felt so damn good. Nice little buzz, good music… At least there was, and the one person she was never too tired to see, walking beside her. The otherwise hushed forest came to life as they furthered. Or maybe now that his speaker died she could finally hear what they were missing,

“What is that?” She whispered, slowing to a stop and moving her hair from her ear, “do you hear that?” she smiled and looked up at Damon who’s brows were furrowed

“You really asking me if I can hear that?” He asked and she both scoffed and chuckled,

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, “I love frogs,” she sighed, stepping forward again,

“I know you do,” he said, “which is one of the reasons I brought you here,” he said and as he did, she could see a small clearing maybe half a dozen yards away. She looked past it, seeing a certain light beyond it bouncing up and down in hundreds of places. As they neared, she saw it was a lake. A smile widened on her face at the sight and she scanned the view. Soft rush sprouted densely around the entirety of the lake, though the body was so large Y/N could see the end only if she squinted. Her shoes met with bumpy rocks of varying sizes and weights and they walked over them, closer to the shore. She could hear the frogs so clearly now. There were so many croaks she couldn’t guess how many scattered the lake even if she wanted to.

“It’s so…” She said, shaking her head and looking around. She turned to Damon, “it’s so untouched,” she said,

“Too out of the way for tourists that don’t care about nature,” he shrugged, “Get’s decent traffic in July though,” he said looking out to the water. Perfect night he chose to bring her here. There wasn’t a single light nearby and she could imagine how dark it would have been if the moon wasn’t nearly full. She looked up at the sky. Stars scattered the twilight. She saw Venus and the North Star. But quickly her eyes were brought to the moon. So beautiful and bright and precious. She stared at it for a few moments, letting her eyes focus on the brightness against the vast empty space. She saw the craters she had seen so many times and wondered how many other people were looking at the moon, just like her, right now.

“Look at that, you see that?” Damon said, pointing out the lake,

“What?” She asked, turning to him then to the lake

“A fish, it just jumped out,” he smiled, looking at her then back out at the lake,

“What? Really?” She asked, glancing at him then to the lake again, “Where?”

“There,” he said, stepping forward. His left hand touched her arm and he extended his right over her shoulder so she could see where he was pointing, “that area right there,” he said, letting his arm fall to his side, “keep an eye on it,” he said, and she did. It took only a minute for another fish, maybe the same one, to jump up and catch a fly. She gasped when she saw it and let out a laugh,

“Oh my god, that is so cute,” she said, looking out to the lake. He said nothing, but she felt him looking at her. He pulled the flask from his jeans and unscrewed it, bringing the old steel to his lips.

“Mm?” He asked, offering her the flask as he swallowed his sip,

“Thanks,” she smiled, grabbing the flask. She turned around, looking for somewhere to sit and enjoy the view. A log, one of few, rested a couple yards behind them and she took a seat. Damon sat next to her and Y/N passed the flask back to him.

“Why do you always take me to these places?” She asked, looking over at him. He raised his brows once before furrowing them. He took a sip and looked out to the lake,

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “‘cause I think you’d like ‘em?” He shrugged again, like he didn’t even know, “whenever I find myself in these places,” he said, taking in a deep breath. He sighed, “I find myself seeing you in every single one of them,” he said, “I bring you to these places because I wanna see your smile. I wanna hear your laugh,” he shrugged, “whenever I have some place to show you, I know I’ll get to see the exact same light in your eyes that I saw before you knew about us,” he said, a little more quiet. Her brows pulled together slightly at this. She thought she had asked such an innocent question. But is answer made her feel otherwise. In truth, she didn’t know how to feel about his words. Had Stefan, Bonnie or anyone else said this to her she wouldn’t have been thinking too hard about it. But Damon said it. And he never said stuff like this. These words were laced with something deeper than concern or appreciation. She knew it was, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. Not without feeling completely out of bounds. She didn’t say anything, and didn’t even realise it until he brought the flask to his lips again and took another swig.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he nodded, screwing the cap back on and standing up. He slid the flask in his pocket and shrugged off his leather jacket. She smiled, thinking still of his words. Though, the smile dropped as she registered what he just said,

“Um, no,” she shook her head,

“What? Why?” He asked,

“Damon I am fully dressed and under the influence of alcohol,” she said,

“Yeah and I was a lifeguard in the 80’s and unless you’re going commando right now, it doesn’t really matter,” he shrugged, “strip,” he said, pulling off his shirt. Y/N laughed,

“No, Damon, come on,” she groaned,

“Let’s gooo,” he said, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans,

“Damon I am not swimming,” she said,

“Fine, fine, whatever, Fear from Inside Out,” he rolled his eyes and the widest smile spread on her face. She clapped, throwing her head back and laughing,

“You did not just fucking reference Inside Out,”

“Hey, I am an incredibly well-rounded individual, okay?” He chuckled, facing her as he walked backward to the shore. He pulled off his pants and balled them up, throwing the denim onto the pile of clothes near Y/N. She chuckled glancing down his body for a only a moment, then back to his face, still chuckling,

“Well, enjoy. Let me know how it is,” she raised her brows once. He smiled, shaking his head and turned around. He stepped into the water slowly, taking his time. “Oh my god, Y/N, you gotta get in here,” he said, turning around when he stood waist deep, “it’s warm as hell,” he said,

“Hell is really hot, Damon. Maybe even hotter than you,” she joked and for a moment she caught him smirking and looking away, “I don’t know if I wanna touch something an estimated eight-hundred kelvin,” she shrugged and he shook his head,

“Come on,” he said, walking a little closer to the shore,

“Damon no,”

“‘Damon, no’,” He imitated, “come on,” he gestured with his head, water now at his calves, “take off your shoes and feel how warm it is,” he shrugged, crossing his arms. She looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly as she decided whether or not she would.

“Fine,” she said, tilting her head, “but we’re going home after,” she crossed her arms dramatically,

“Fine,” he said, mimicking her crossed arm. She chuckled and leaned down, untying her laces and kicking her shoes off. She pulled off each sock and stuffed them in her shoes, “are you sure it’s okay for humans?” She asked, walking over the uncomfortable rocks and pebbles,

“Yes, I’m sure,” he nodded. She stepped forward, stopping before the water. She looked down then up at him, “well come on then,” he said, beckoning with his hand. She smiled and took a step, feeling the warm as hell water.

“Damn,” she said, taking a few more steps, getting closer to him, “this is nice,” she nodded, looking back up at him,

“I know right?” He raised his brows once and tilted his head. She smiled and looked to the side, out at the huge lake stretching so far. Then she turned to him again and met a certain smile.

“What?” She chuckled. He said nothing, only narrowed his eyes and his smile deepened into a smirk. The smile fell from her face, “Damon, Damon, no,” she said and he grinned. She turned around but before even leaving the water, Damon reached forward with impressive speed and wrapped his arms around her, “Damon!” She yelled and he lifted her up walking them backwards,

“We’re going!” He said, “it’s too late!” He said and turned to the side, falling into the water. Her body submerged in the wet lake. God. Her clothes already stuck to her skin like that certain plastic wrap you can never get off your hands. Though, it wasn’t cold. Somewhat to her dismay, it was actually enjoyable. It felt like a warm hug around her arms. Damon gave hugs like that. Safe and big and friendly. Her feet met tiny rocks and she pushed herself past the surface,

“Oh my fucking god, Damon!” She said immediately, sucking in a breath and slicking her hair back, rubbing her eyes. He laughed hysterically, clapping his hands and legs staggering about, “you are so fucked up,” she said, unable to control the amusement and laughter in her tone. She laughed, shaking her head, just loving the sounds of joy he made. She narrowed her eyes at him and leaned forward. Palms against his chest, she shoved him forward. He was too busy laughing at her to save himself and she pushed him right in. His head fell under the surface but he stood himself up quickly,

“That was good, that was good,” he chuckled, wiping his hair back. A single strand fell back against his forehead and Y/n tried to ignore how cute it looked, “I definitely deserved it,” he smiled, wading toward her,

“I cannot believe that you did that,” she shook her head and crossed her arms, “now I’m all cold,” she put on a fake frown but her eyes were too full of fun,

“Aw, how sad,” he pouted, “I guess we’ll have to swim in this warm water for a little longer then,” he shrugged.

Masterlist

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ocean-blue-whump · 2 years

Text

Such a Good Mutt

For @whumpawoman Angstpril! Day 21 - Whumper Run-In

Cassiel Belanger belongs to @painful-pooch

Across the Stars and Through the Meadow Masterlist (Cas and Star AU)

Tagging the Star crew: @ashintheairlikesnow @whumpinggrounds @whumptakesthecake @justplainwhump @whumpfessional @winedark-whump

CW: lady whump, BBU, pet whump, burning, dehumanisation

***

Star is on autopilot. There aren’t enough customers for her to stay focused, and her head is throbbing with a dull ache.

Cas has already started cleaning the kitchen for the night. Star listens to him singing while he works, smiling at the sound. That’s it. If she focuses on his voice, maybe the pain will disappear.

She’s so enthralled by his beautiful singing that she doesn’t notice the new customer at the end of the bar until the woman clears her throat.

Star throws her towel over her shoulder and walks over. “What can I get you?”

“728501, right?”

Star freezes. 728501. It’s been…three months, roughly, since she and Cas escaped. Three months isn’t long enough for her body not to react to the numbers. Slowly, she raises her head to meet the woman’s eyes. “Handler Reyes.”

Handler Reyes smirks. “501. Greco’s been so damn angry since you’ve been gone.”

“G-good,” Star stammers out, trying to keep her bearings despite the world crumbling around her. Handler Reyes wasn’t her primary, but the woman had helped Handler Greco with some of her training. Star remembers the pain left in the wake of the woman’s baton, the bruises and welts and shocks and blood, red against the white floors. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, pet, I’m here to get a drink. Seeing you is just an added bonus.” Handler Reyes drums her fingers on the tabletop. “I’ll have an old fashioned.”

Star puts the sugars and bitters into a rocks glass, keeping her eyes on Handler Reyes. She can’t let her know that Cas, another escaped pet, is just in the kitchen, oblivious to what’s happening at the bar. She can suffer, but she won’t let Cas be taken back there. He deserves to be free, he’s not meant to live in captivity.

She’s a mutt. Her freedom doesn’t matter.

“Greco has been…well, right after they found out you escaped, he put a Guard Dog in a coma. Kid wasn’t going to make it out of training anyways, but still. I’ve never seen him that mad.” Handler Reyes looks at Star’s shaking hands. “Trouble?”

“Yeah, I’m having trouble,” Star snaps, adding water to the glass and stirring to dissolve the sugar. “Are we really going to play this game?”

“What game, 501? I just want my drink.” Handler Reyes leans back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest. “One of my friends recommended this place to me. Said the bartender wasn’t half bad and the cook was pretty good. Where is he, anyways?”

“Manager sent him home early.” Star can’t breathe, frozen in place with the glass in her hand. “It’s just me tonight.” She has to protect Cas. “And stop playing games with me.”

Handler Reyes shrugs. “I’m not playing games, you dumb mutt. I just got off of work and I want a drink. That’s it. I’d fix that attitude of yours, 501, or I’ll have to punish you.”

Star glares at her. “I’m going to get punished anyways once you bring me back, so fucking do it, you coward.”

There’s a moment of silence before Handler Reyes bursts into laughter. “You’re still a spitfire. Even when you’re not in a white shirt and black shorts with a collar around your neck.”

Star snarls, her heart racing, but she adds large ice cubes to the glass with shaking hands and selects a high proof bourbon. Three months. That’s all she got. Three months of happiness.

It’s not long enough to satisfy her, but it’s long enough that she knows going back is going to hurt so much worse, knowing what she could have instead.

For the first time since she’s seen Handler Reyes, Star looks over at the kitchen, where Cas is cleaning away, still singing.

He doesn’t know. He’s going to walk out once he’s done and find nothing but an empty bar, nothing but an empty space where a mutt used to be. She has to hope, though, that he can move on. That he’ll find something and some reason.

She has to leave some kind of sign, something to let him know that she didn’t just leave him, that she was taken.

The image of Cas thinking she left because of him hurts her more than the idea of going back to WRU.

Is that…tears are building in her eyes. Star brushes them away and pours the bourbon. “So take me back. That’s how this ends, right? Handler Greco gets his spitfire mutt back in a collar and on her knees?”

“No.”

Star’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Keep stirring my drink, 501. My, my. It’s taking you an awful long time to make a simple cocktail.”

“Because you’re a goddamn Handler,” Star retorts, stirring the drink obediently. “I can’t fucking focus because the last time I saw you, you were bashing my face in with an electric baton.”

“Good times, 501. Good times.”

Star adds the orange to the drink and slides it across the bar. “So how do you want this to go? I’d prefer quietly, and I’ll come without a fight.” She has to protect Cas at all costs.

“Please. If I was going to take you back to WRU, I would have already.” Handler Reyes takes a sip of the drink. “Mm. Good job, 501. You make a mean cocktail. Throw a mean punch too. A natural Guard Dog.”

“So then just get this over with!” Star roars, slamming her fist against the counter. “Fucking take me back to Handler Greco already!”

Handler Reyes wrinkles her nose. “See, that’s the problem. The only reason I’m not dragging you back to WRU by that pretty brown hair of yours is because I’ve got a bone to pick with Devin Greco and you back in his arms would bring him far too much pleasure for my liking.”

Star grips the edge of the bar, knuckles turning white. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. That fuck Devin Greco walks around thinking he’s the founder of life as we know it. Getting you back would make him even more smug, somehow, and I couldn’t handle that. Plus, he’d probably just buy you himself so you could never leave.”

Star’s heart skips a beat. “B-buy me?” Not Handler Greco. Not the man who did nothing but drug and beat her and say it was for her own good.

“Oh yeah. He’s obsessed with you.” Handler Reyes takes another sip of her drink. “God, this is good. If you weren’t so feral, I would have put you as a Domestic.”

Star is speechless, her eyes wide and her breath coming quickly.

Handler Reyes chuckles. “You’re terrified, aren’t you? I miss hearing your screams coming from Greco’s training room. And as much as I hate that man, he got the most delicious sounds from you. Do you still know your positions, trainee?”

Star nods, her whole body trembling under Handler Reyes’s cold stare.

“Position six.”

Star’s arms move on their own, extending all the way out with her wrists together, right in front of Handler Reyes.

“Good mutt.” Handler Reyes digs around in her purse. “Do you think I can get a scream out of you?”

Star’s mind immediately shoots to Cas. If he hears her scream, he’ll come running out, and Star doubts that Handler Reyes won’t send him back to Handler Rowan. “No, Handler.”

“We’ll see.” Handler Reyes pulls out a lighter. “This way, I can scar you all I want and not get busted for damaging the merchandise.”

She has to be strong, she has to take this for Cas. “Will you tell Handler Greco you found me?” she asks, fear in her voice.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But first—” Handler Reyes opens the lighter, and a bright flame ignites. “You’re going to burn for me, pretty thing.”

Star bites down on her lip as Handler Reyes brings the lighter closer and closer to the underside of Star’s forearm, watches with building anticipation and a sick feeling in her stomach as she can feel the heat on her skin.

The flame makes contact with her skin, and Star barely manages to contain her whimper. The pain is immediate, searing, and Star wants nothing more than to pull away from the fire. But she holds her position, even as she can smell her own skin burning, mixed with the smell of the bar.

Handler Reyes takes a sip of her drink, tracing the lighter around a small portion of the back of Star’s forearm. “One hell of a bartender, 501.”

Star grits her teeth, tears building in her eyes from the bitter pain. “That’s not my fucking name.”

“It’s what your barcode says. It’s the only thing that matters.”

“Why don’t you do me a favor and burn the barcode off? I’m not a pet. I don’t need it anymore,” Star hisses.

“You’ll need it one day. You’re still just a mutt.” Handler Reyes smirks. “I think you like it, too. The barcode. Belonging somewhere. So no. I won’t burn the barcode off. But I’ll burn the rest of this pretty skin until I get the sound I want.”

“Fuck you.” The pain builds, and Star feels her skin slowly being destroyed. She’s going to be sick. But she can take it, she has to take it.

Handler Reyes doesn’t say another word, Star keeps her screams smothered, and in this silence, she can hear Cas singing away in the kitchen, unaware of how well Star burns. Good. He needs to stay that way at all costs.

The seconds stretch into minutes and the minutes stretch into hours and what must be an eternity of pain passes before Handler Reyes puts the lighter away and goes back to her drink.

Star doesn’t move.

“Impressive. Even the best Guard Dogs I’ve trained would have pulled away, or at least shed a tear.”

Star stares at the far wall, her lip trembling. She’s just a mutt. She’s supposed to take it.

Handler Reyes finishes her drink and slides the empty glass across the counter along with a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

She didn’t say to release position, so Star stays still as a statue.

Handler Reyes pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of Star’s arms, making sure to get her barcode and numbers in the shot. “Just in case Greco gets on my nerves. Relax, 501.”

Star gingerly brings her arms back to her sides, the pain making her eyes misty.

“Go clean yourself up. Don’t worry. I won’t come back again. You’ve served your purpose.” Handler Reyes stands up, looking Star over. “Not a scream. Damn. You really are a cold and calloused mutt.”

“Yes, Handler,” Star whispers.

“Good mutt.” With that, Handler Reyes walks out the door, leaving the smell of burning skin behind.

Star runs over to the sink, letting cool water rush over the burns. It helps, a little, enough that she’s able to bite back her cry of pain when she puts a jacket on. Cas can’t know what happened here.

There’s things to do. Glasses to wash, liquor to organize and label, drink mix to throw away.

Star stands in place, staring out on the bar.

Something wet runs down her cheek.

She’s crying.

Just like that, Star is crying. From the pain and the humiliation and the knowledge that she’s just a mutt and she’ll never be anything more. Just a mutt. Just a toy.

She twists a towel around her hands until she cuts off her own circulation and silently, she cries, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

She breaks. She rebuilds. She repeats.

And she pushes it all down the minute she hears Cas call out for her, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. “Coming, Cas,” she says, keeping her voice neutral.

He can’t know how close he was to going back, what Star just let happen to her. He can never know. It’s just the way it is. She has to keep him safe.

She doesn’t know why, but she’s drawn to him like nothing she’s ever felt, so she has to keep him safe.

It’s what good mutts do.

It’s what good people do, too, and Star is a mix of both these days.

#wawangstpril #no.21 #lady whump #bbu #box boy universe #pet whump #dehumanisation tw #burns #star belanger #handler reyes #cas/star au #blue's words

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writerkenna · 2 years

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question about celebrations...how does the fam go about them??

I loved the chap on mila's first birthday party!!

how about everyone else's birthdays, fathers days, anniversaries of happy things like weddings but also of deaths :( etc ??

Let me talk firstly about FIRST birthdays!!! First birthdays are always big, and themed, and feature invites to everyone they know. I won't talk too much about Eric's first, bc I'm writing a drabble of that to post soon, buuuuuut, I will say that Sam and Bucky get all their super buddies and a good chunk of Sam's family (including cousin River, TTA callback anyone?) out to DC for it. It's their last party at their DC place, because they've decided at that point to move to Louisiana, so it is HUGE! Aisha's is even bigger, because now all of Sam's old neighbors are just ten minutes away.

Even outside of firsts, birthdays are a big deal. Bucky always bakes the cakes, Sam always gets together balloons and streamers and decor, and Mila is the BEST at scream-singing 'Happy Birthday'.

Father's Day is just a competition between Sam and Bucky to see who can out do the other one when it comes to celebrating them. On their first Father's Day, Sam makes Bucky breakfast in bed and Bucky gets Sam flowers and a wine with a good vintage. A few years later, Sam is making Torres do sky-writing to tell Bucky he's a good dad and Bucky is filling the entire living room with gifts and bouquets. The kids find it laughable at a certain point

Anniversaries are more intimate events, that usually just involve Sarah or Torres taking the kids, and then Sam and Bucky getting some good food and having some good sex. Bucky still always buy flowers.

On the anniversaries of Riley's death and Sam's parents' deaths, Bucky likes to give Sam space for a little while. He'll take the kids to the park or out for breakfast to give Sam some time to grieve on his own. Once Sam texts Bucky that he's ready for them to come back, there's a lot of telling stories and looking at old pictures. Sam and Bucky will have a drink of bourbon, Riley's favorite, every year. Something Sam endlessly appreciates is that Bucky has never made Sam feel he can't speak about Riley, or that Sam has to put away the love he had for him, that he thought they would spend their life together.

That was REALLY LONG SORRY!! But, yeah thats how they celebrate!

(and yes, I do care deeply about samriley)

Send another ask in for The One Year Celebration of The Wilson-Barnes Family!

#the wilson barnes family series #sambucky #sambucky!dads #samriley #mila wilson barnes #eric wilson barnes #aisha wilson barnes #one year celebration

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gjprager · 11 months

Text

LOSERS GALLERY

CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2

November’s not the best time of year to be hopscotching around New York. It gets colder and grayer by the day, along with my dis- position. But I was in town for a week visiting relatives, squeezing them for shelter and hot meals while I sought out an elderly gentleman who lived on the East Side of Manhattan and was purported to be an art dealer of some renown. He once sang for a big band during the Swing Era, but his career fizzled out after the War and took up accounting instead. Zeke said he held a secret that could make someone very rich.

Mr. Howard lived in one of those pre-war buildings that cost a fortune in rent. I peeked through the large glass doors into the lobby; it was laid out in marble made dull by the years, and a chandelier with missing crystals hung from the ceiling. The place had seen better days, as did Mr. Howard, I assumed.

I rang him up on the intercom a number of times before he buzzed me in. The only thing missing from this setup was a pricey doorman. I took the elevator to the twelfth floor, and after knocking a dozen or so times on his door he got wind of me. I’d read somewhere that hearing was the first thing to go in old dogs and geezers. His footsteps progressed down a long foyer; I heard a few locks turn.

“Who is it?”

“Robert Klayman. We have an appointment.”

“Who?”

“Robert Klayman! You just rang me up on the intercom.”

“Oh, yes, yes.”

He struggled to unclasp the chain and pulled the door opened, greeting me with a big smile that showed off a set of gleaming white teeth.

“Mr. Klayman, it’s nice to meet you.” His voice still held the melodic baritone that once graced the radio waves.

“Likewise, Mr. Howard. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

His mood was light and airy, a sharp cry from the senility he projected thus far. I sensed something sinister about him. His gracious facade hinted at a dark secret or two. He might even have some skeletons in his closet — for real. Nevertheless, this wasn’t missionary work I’d signed up for.

“Come on in,” he said.

I stepped inside as he locked the door behind, and I followed him down a long and never-ending foyer, it was dark and narrow and reminded me of a crypt. I had the heebie-jeebies and we hadn’t even gotten started.

The place lit up once we got past the foyer. I sat down on a brown leather sofa that stretched across one side of a sunken living room. He sat stiffly on the edge of a matching leather chair tucked away in the corner, and looked like he was about to get back up.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“Bourbon?” I ventured.

“With ice?”

“Yeah.”

“Coming right up.”

He proceeded to the kitchen while I sat around, observing the surroundings. He returned and handed me my drink; he’d filled it to the top, as he did his own spirited concoction. We were headed for a long session together.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Howard.”

I had to admit that wasn’t really the case, but I did hear him sing once on an old-time radio program early on a Sunday morning when I couldn’t get back to sleep. He crooned pretty well back then.

“Good things, I hope, Mr. Klayman.” He sat back in the corner chair.

“Oh yes, of course.” I was being tactful.

The place looked to be a small one-bedroom, the sort of place a Manhattan pensioner was apt to live. The walls were plastered with music memorabilia from a generation before rock’ n’ roll hit the charts. He was front and center in those black and white photos, with suited-up musicians holding saxophones or trumpets standing behind him. His furniture looked to be from that era too, and as with most elderly gents, his place looked like a relic from the past.

“You must have sung with the great bandleaders of the time,” I said to him.

“I knew a few of them. Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Tommy Dorsey. They weren’t the nicest people to work for, but they were damn good at their job.”

“They don’t make music like that anymore,” I said, though I preferred rock ‘n’ roll.

“No, unfortunately not. Now, let’s discuss why you’re here.”

“Go ahead and fill me in.” I sipped my bourbon and watched him closely.

“Zeke Stanton had directed me to an article about you online.”

“Zeke’s a great friend. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“I read the piece a few weeks ago.” He began knocking down his drink. It looked like scotch and soda. “I believe it was first published in the Los Angeles Times back in March.”

“It was a pretty accurate description of my P.I. exploits and all the trouble it got me in.”

Mr. Howard looked at me as if he knew all my dark and dirty secrets. “I’m aware of that, Mr. Klayman.”

“I received a lot of sympathetic mail from readers, but no job offers.” I tried making light of it, but failure has no friends.

“Yes, well...once you’ve been scorched by the powers that be there’s no way back.”

I noticed a pair of flesh-colored hearing aids tucked inside his ears. They did a good job these days camouflaging those gadgets.

“I broke the law, carrying a gun without a permit.” I raised my voice a bit. “I had no business getting involved in a murder case without a P.I. license, or shooting that bum for a couple of dollars he stole from me.”

“You’re underestimating yourself, Mr. Klayman. In my opinion you showed initiative and resolve, and you defended yourself with courage.”

“The penalty didn’t fit the crime. I was railroaded.”

“It was an injustice, plain and simple. But I was impressed with

your tenacity. You’re going to need it for this job.”

I was getting to like the guy. “Let’s talk about it. All I know is that it involves a work of art.”

“Not just any work of art, Mr. Klayman.” He paused with dramatic flair. “You’re familiar with Rembrandt?”

“Most definitely. The famous Dutch painter of the eighteenth century.”

“Close enough. Do you know how much a Rembrandt is currently worth on the market?”

“A hell of a lot.”

“Exactly.”

“Where do I fit in?

“Patience, Mr. Klayman. Let me digress.”

He began to relate a tale that was mysterious, intriguing, and hardly believable. I sat back and listened like a wide-eyed kid.

It began with an affair he’d had with a well-placed society lady during World War II who left him to marry a bigwig in the State Department. This lady was also a relative of a former President of the United States, which put her in very high company.

Having said all that, he began to relate a story about Hermann Goering, the former head of Nazi Germany’s Luftwaffe and the second most powerful man in Germany at the time. Among other things, Goering fancied himself an art lover but didn’t believe in paying for it. After the Nazis conquered most of Europe, he had assembled quite an art collection.

“I’d read about that,” I said.

Mr. Howard sipped his drink, then continued. “The society lady’s father was a politician and ardent Bundist back in the thirties, and was in contact with high-ranking Nazi officials in the German government. He’d traveled to Germany a few times before the war and befriended Goering who’d offered to sell him a famous Rembrandt at an appreciable discount. The deal didn’t go through as war broke out soon after. But Goering had been given an advance on his asking price, and for the record wrote out a bill of sale. Goering kept the contract in a Swiss bank planning to complete the transaction after the war. He was looking ahead, since he couldn’t be sure he’d end up on the winning side. He didn’t use his own name, and instead used the name of a former Jewish art dealer in Berlin, a Henry Kissleman.

“Very interesting. But where do I come in?”

“Patience, Mr. Klayman.”

He went on to say that after Pearl Harbor, the society lady’s dad had a patriotic epiphany and quickly put his aircraft company to work making instruments that would help tear the Fatherland to pieces a few years later.

“He more than made up for his apostasy,” Mr. Howard said, leaning back in his chair. “His contribution to the war effort was immense.”

“Where is the Rembrandt now?”

“There’s more to the story.”

“Go on,” I said.

What choice did I have? He liked drawing out a good yarn. I kept looking in my drink, treating it like an hourglass, counting down to the finale. Not that I wasn’t interested. I’d always been hungry for postscripts to the machinations of the Third Reich, but all that stuff about Goering was for starters. Much more befell the Rembrandt as the war came to an end.

“In 1945,” he began, “as the Russians swarmed over the Reich from the east, a Red Army grunt found the Rembrandt in a ware- house along with a booty of masterpieces and turned them in to his superior officer. This officer, bravely decorated, rose in rank over the years and gained quite a standing in the Communist party.” He paused to knock off the rest of his drink, then continued. “A few years ago, a Viennese Jew who survived a concentration camp claimed to have owned the Rembrandt but could not prove it. As the painting was thought to have perished in the war, no inquiries were made into the matter. After the man died, he left no family to do his bidding if the Rembrandt should ever reappear–”

Mr. Howard stopped abruptly, realizing he’d tried my patience. “I’m sorry for the length and complexity of the information, but I feel it necessary to relate it all to you.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I find the subject fascinating.”

He peered into his glass. “It seems I need some replenishing.”

Mr. Howard took my empty glass along with his to the kitchen. He returned with another bourbon for me and another round of whatever he was drinking. He sat down on the matching leather chair and sipped quietly, lost in thought.

I sensed he was reeling me in to some sort of caper, but a thief would have been shrewder and more calculating in his presentation. This was a Rembrandt, after all, with lots of greenbacks at stake. Mr. Howard stayed cool and detached throughout his improbable tale. I’d never have guessed at his buttoned-up formalities from the way he crooned back in his day.

“Now, getting back to where we were,” he said. “I find the subject fascinating, too.”

“Not for the same reasons I do, Mr. Howard.” He looked back suspiciously. “What I mean is...I have a more visceral attitude about the Nazis than you do.”

“I fought those bastards, Mr. Klayman. I didn’t sit out the war in a sound studio cutting records like Sinatra or Crosby.”

“I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”

“No offense taken.”

I was relieved to see him show some passion. “I’m thankful for your service. It was the one war we fought whose purpose was clear.”

“Yes, of course. Now, are you still following the story?”

“I’m trying my best,” I confessed.

“This is where you come in. I received a call from an art dealer acquaintance who had visited Odessa, in Ukraine, about three months ago. Word had surfaced in the art market that the Rembrandt was being held by a criminal element who were looking to sell. The dealer was sent at the behest of the family I spoke to you about, although the society lady I mentioned earlier died years ago.”

“Did they agree to the sale?”

“The dealer told me they offered to sell at a very high price, as one would expect. He related all this to the family and they agreed to buy the painting. However, they are not interested in paying a ransom for it, which is how they see the seller’s over-the-top asking price.”

“This is where I come in?”

“Our mutual friend, Zeke Stanton, had introduced me to Bo- ris Abramovich, the man you will be working for. I spoke to Mr. Abramovich on the phone, and he agreed to facilitate the sale and get the asking price down to what the family is willing to pay. He has numerous contacts with the underworld in Odessa. You will travel to Ukraine and complete the transaction.”

“You’re suggesting a strong criminal element is involved?”

“Would you like me to refill your glass?” he said.

I looked down at the empty glass. “Yeah, sure... more ice, too.” It dawned on me I was getting sloshed.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

I had a creeping feeling he was sending me straight to the wolves, but like a barroom drunk I was ready for whatever pipe dreams he put in my head. I looked around the place for a clue to his integrity – the sparse décor and a retiree’s austere lifestyle gave me confidence. He needed the money as much as I did.

Mr. Howard returned with both glasses full and a big smile. “Here you are. Kentucky bourbon for your pleasure.”

“Yes, it’s good, very good.” I took a slow, smooth sip. “Now, this family you spoke of. They don’t seem very interested in the Rembrandt, if you ask me.”

“I can assure you they want that painting back. In any event, your job is to travel to Odessa and transport it out of the Ukraine.”

“How would I know a Rembrandt from a Rubens?”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a first-rate private detective.”

“I appreciate that.” He knew how to brown nose, but I wasn’t buying in yet. “Why don’t they plum the art world for guys who specialize in this sort of thing? An art major at UCLA could do the job better than I can.

“You’re missing the point, Mr. Klayman.”

“Which is?”

“The family only wants it as part of their private collection. They cherish their privacy and want to stay out of the limelight. Someone without an art background and with a low profile like yours can keep this out of the public sphere. They want complete privacy in this matter. They’re not proud of their grandfather’s role in it. Do you understand?”

I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. “What if they handed me a fake?”

“You’re not following what I said. We’ve worked that part out already.” He took a long sip on his drink. “There’s money in it for you, and as long as you follow instructions, we will pay you for your services. Do I make myself clear?”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Meet this Russian gentleman and pick up the Rembrandt. The money will be transferred through Mr. Abramovich. After you re- trieve the painting, you will board a train and travel to Prague.”

“Is that all I have to do?”

“That would be all.”

“Does this entail a hit? A contract killing?”

“I didn’t hear that.”

“There’s a reason you sought me out, Mr. Howard. You’ve read about a two-bit, wannabe private detective released from prison with no prospects. Maybe you just don’t want to pay a professional, so you hire me on the cheap. Or you might need a patsy, someone disposable after the transaction is completed.”

“Make up your mind, Mr. Klayman. Do you want the job or not?”

“I’ll do anything to pull myself out of the gutter. I only ask that you be square with me.”

“I am being square with you. Do you want the job or not?”

I hesitated, knowing there was more to it than he let on. I looked in my glass and it was empty again. It reminded me of my bank account.

“How much money are you offering?”

“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars now. Your flight has already been paid for.”

“How much more do I get paid once the job is done?”

“That’s between you and Mr. Abramovich. He will be your contact from now on. We will sever our relationship after you walk out the door.”

I couldn’t help wondering why he spoke like a butler on an English estate. I planned on googling his bio later. I needed money now to pay my rent and a pile of bills.

“When do I start?”

Mr. Howard was up at the breakfast counter pouring another drink. He looked to be having a bit of a problem with it, too.

“A week from today.” He steadied his gaze.

“Jeez,” I said. “I have to fly back to L.A. and take care of a few things –”

“Do you want the damn job or not?” He yelled, forgetting his resolve. I blamed the liquor on that.

I had to think fast. Lots of guys would jump on an opportunity like this. The Ukraine, however, swarmed with ruthless criminals who’d lop off my head for a liter of vodka. But the job promised a better return than playing a P.I. for jealous husbands with thin wallets.

A heist or a hit, I wasn’t yet sure, but either one would be lucrative on the international stage. What did I have to lose? At some point we all end up dead. Why not call it quits with some real money in my pocket?

“Well, Mr. Klayman. What the hell is it going to be?”

“It’s a deal,” I said.

He came out from around the counter holding a leather port-folio and laid it down on the table.

“Here’s your first installment. We expect you in Odessa on the twenty-fifth of the month. The plane ticket has already been modified to accommodate your point of departure, which I assumed would be LAX.” He sounded like a textbook. “Read the instructions carefully.”

“I’ll get started right away.”

I opened the flap and peered inside the folder. Two packets of hundred-dollar bills were neatly stacked, along with a computer printout of a plane ticket, and some instructions written out on a plain sheet of paper. I counted out ten-grand, like he said.

I looked back at the computer printout. “Hey, there’s no–”

“We’ll deal with that as we go along.”

Mr. Howard read my mind. He’d handed me a one-way ticket — in more ways than one, I fretted. These people were all business, one mistake and it was the boneyard for me. This family, or conglomerate, or whoever they were, was certainly not the innocents he described.

“I’ll be in Odessa on the twenty-fifth.” I took the portfolio and stood. “I’ll still need that return ticket.”

“Please read the instructions, Mr. Klayman. That should clarify the situation for you.”

“I intend to.”

“Good. I’ll see you out.”

He followed me to the door through the foyer. I turned to say goodbye. An arched expression fell over his face.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Klayman.”

“Likewise,” I said.

I shook his hand before taking off and landing back on the street. A cold, raw wind blew off the river, settling on my face like an ice pack. New York was getting awfully chilly in November. I had a sinking feeling this gig was leading me straight to another kind of freeze box.

#Crime #Thriller

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fantabulisticity · 4 years

Text

Y'all. So, I'm watching this video of Brendon Urie reacting to a vocal coach on YouTube (Tristan Paredes) react to a mix of some of Brendon's live performances. And Tristan mentions that as Brendon's gotten older, he's tended toward darker tones, especially when hitting high notes -- and I've noticed that too, that he loves the dark tones nowadays.

And fucking.

Brendon said he didn't know what that means, that he didn't know what a darker tone was, and I'm like...

Babe. You've been performing professionally for HOW many years now? 'Cause, like, yeah, my mom's a choir teacher and a voice teacher and shit but like. I've known dark vs bright for YEARS and you're like 40 and don't know it? I'm just. How. He's a professional. Maybe he'd heard about it before and just forgot? I dunno. I was also commenting aloud along with the video, noticing many of the same things Tristan noticed 😅

#i also watched another video of a different vocal coach reacting to the same mix of live performances #and brendon was right she was very nice about it but like i def heard some times when he messed up and he commented on those #one of the times it sounded like he had been smoking or drinking and she was like 'your head is facing down and that's why your voice...#...sounds strained and weird' and i was like 'oh honey no it's smoking or drinking; something hard on the throat' and then he was like...#... 'yeah no i was drinking bourbon while i was singing that day' and i was like YEAH OKAY THAT SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT #so she must not drink or smoke lol because as soon as i heard that video i was like 'heyyyyy that soundslike liquor voice' and it WAS...#... and she was so astute she should have caught that which makes me think she isn't familiar with liquor voice.#anyway #i'm just musing #i like listening to music shit #i need to get back into music theory and actually training my voice instead of belting kesha in the kitchen #lol #personal #he also mentions how he HATES watching himself perform/sing and it is SO VALIDATING to hear a professional say that 😭😭😭#esp when he's talking about how he was nervous for a certain gig and how he remembers being nervous and he hates seeing himself singing...#...and i just. it's so relateable and so validating. not like in a 'i also make millions of dollars being an international treasure' way...#...but in a 'i also hate seeing video/audio of me singing and can hear EVERY mistake and it's so UGH and some days I'm so nervous to...#...sing in front of people even though I've done it a million times' kind of way

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kissmyhandcallmedarling · 3 years

Text

Poetic Lovers

austin sommers x fem!reader

note:

- tw: not exactly smut or nfsw, but sexual themes discussed

- I apologise for any mistakes, just wanted to get this posted and didn't do the most thorough edit

word count: 1,101

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

Y/n!" Austin grinned brightly as he welcomed you into his home, kissing you on either cheek. "So good to see you! So glad you could make it!"

You smiled shyly as he put his arm around your shoulders, walking you over to his chaise. You sat down, feeling the luxurious vinyl under your hands, while he wandered over to the mini-bar. You'd had a huge crush on Austin since the moment you first laid eyes on him, singing his heart out at the local bar. But there was no way he felt the same... in fact, you were pretty certain he wasn't even into women. Tonight was simply an evening of two friends getting together to drink and talk about literature. And you were expecting nothing more than that.

"Drink for you, ma'am?"

"Oh, please."

"What 'you up for?" you watched as his fingers nimbly prepared two glasses and fumbled through the extensive collection of liquor. "French martini? Mint julep? Bourbon?"

"I'll just have whatever you're having."

"Oh, sweetheart, no need to be so polite... but how does a julep sound? I am really fancying that ziiiinnngggg this evening."

"Perfect... reminds me of a summer's day. Kinda what you need living in a place like this," you reply awkwardly.

"Ha! I remember I hooked up with this guy this one time in the summer..."

There. He said it. He was gay. As much as you knew this would be the case, you couldn't help but feel heartbroken to know you'd never be anything more than friends.

"...worst screw of my life, by the way. Anyway, he had a bit of a thing for Hollywood, so we climbed the 'o' of the Hollywood sign, and just did it then and there. Mind you we were sky-high on grass."

"Huh... hilarious." You forced a smile.

"What about you?" He asked, carrying over your two drinks and seating himself in front of you. "Any sex horror stories?"

You took a sip of your beverage. "Well... there was this one time..."

"Oh yes! This is gonna be good!!" Austin clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Paint me a picture with your words, y/n."

"So there was this one guy who I met at the club. He seemed really sweet so I invited him back to mine. Usually, I'm not into one-night-stands, but I was trying to get over someone at the time. So we got to it and then he suddenly," you let a chuckle escape your lips. "He just started roaring like a lion! Like so loudly."

"A lion?!"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, y/n, that is a killer!" Austin slapped his hand against his leg as he laughed. "How did you react?"

"Well he had his eyes closed while he was doing it so he couldn't see my reaction, but I was weirded out. Like, he didn't just do it once, it continued on for minutes." You scrunched your face up in disgust. "And then he started licking my arms and my face. Not in a hot way... in a weird-ass way."

"I have to say," he was still hysterical. "That is a banger! Lion-man and Hollywood hookup? It seems we both don't have the best luck when it comes to our sex-lives!"

"How'd we get onto this topic anyway?"

"I don't know." His lips stretched into a cheeky grin. "What would be your best hookup?"

"Um... well, I don't know to be honest. A lot, of guys out there, don't know what women like. What I like."

"And what do you like?" Austin was sitting beside you now.

"Well, to me, it's not just about the sex... it's about the intimacy." You felt his hand drift to you neck, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Austin, what are you doing?" You notice his actions, and slap his hand away. "Are you taking the piss? You're gay."

"Oh baby," he inched closer to you, his dark eyes fixating on yours. "I'm bi."

As soon as those words escaped his lips, you were kissing him. Gently at first, before he deepened the kiss, closing the space between your bodies. His hands trailed up your back, resting on your neck. You felt the cold metal of his rings against your skin, sending tingles throughout your whole body.

"Austin," you gasp, pulling away.

"Are you alright?" He whispers. "Do you want me to stop?"

"The exact opposite."

You feel him lift you up carefully, lips connected to yours, holding you bridal style. His touch drove you crazy. He carried you to his bedroom, placing you down softly on his plush, king-sized bed.

"I recall you telling me that other men don't know what you want? That is why I am asking..." he leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin.

"I want you to make love to me like Romeo did to Juliet the night before he left her forever. Write for me the perfect night, Mr Sommers. Allow me to be immersed in your most consummate, intimate literature."

"Oh, sweetheart... I shall show you... tonight, you shall be my muse." Austin gently began to unzip your dress, as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt. "I will omit no opportunity, that may convey my greetings, love, to thee..."

***

You awoke to the comforting hum of chirping birds. Sunlight fills the room. You lay sprawlled in Austin's bed, duck-feather duvet moulded to your body. The spot beside you was empty, leading you to wonder where your lover had gotten to. You question was soon answered, however, when he entered the room, carrying a tray of luscious breakfast foods.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I just put together a bunch of shit."

"Doesn't look like shit to me," you smile, kissing his lips softly as he sits beside you on the bed. "I had fun last night."

"I mean you passed out not five minutes after we'd finished, so I kinda guessed that you'd enjoyed yourself." There was that cheeky smile again. "But so did I. Now, eat, I won't let this go to waste."

"You're such a gentleman..." you remark, popping a strawberry into your mouth. "You know... was that just a one-off thing or...?"

"I mean... I believe my feelings for you, y/n, go deeper... and, I'm curious to see where this goes." He takes your hand, gently caressing your palm with his thumb. "If that's what you want too?"

In that moment, you couldn't suppress the joy rising inside of you. The man whom you had hopelessly swooned over for so long was asking to be with you.

"I'd like that very much, Austin."

#ahs imagine #ahs fanfiction #ahs #americanhorrorsummer #american horror story #ahs double feature #ahs red tide #austin sommers #evan peters #austin sommers x reader #ahs 10

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yougotthat-write · 3 years

Text

Tinder (Rafael Barba x Reader)

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: Female reader, fluff, Rollisi shenanigans, cringey and inappropriate pick-up lines, potential PTSD for former/current users of dating apps and all the awkwardness that ensues from it :)

Summary: Amanda and Sonny try to find the perfect match for their uptight (and while he would never admit it - lonely) A.D.A.

Read on AO3 here!

It had started off as a joke, really.

Rafael Barba would never sign up onto a dating app if it wasn’t against his will. When he heard the snickering of Amanda and Sonny when he stopped by the 16th precinct, his feet couldn’t help themselves but bring him over to the two detectives.

Amanda bit her cheek to settle herself as the ADA’s polished shoes made their way over. Sonny’s ears turned pink at the tips, which gave Rafael the tell-tale sign that Sonny and Amanda were up to no good.

Hands in his pockets, Rafael quipped, “What?”

Amanda and Sonny exchanged glances. The silence between the two was not a normal thing but when Rafael asked a second time - more aggressive - Sonny held out a cell phone to the lawyer. Rafael’s brows went up in question but when Sonny motioned him to take it, Rafael grabbed it. Looking down at the device, the screen lit up and a plethora of information singed itself into his brain.

Rafael Barba, 37

Manhattan, NY

Assistant District Attorney

Oh baby, I’ll give you so much due process, standing will be the only issue.

Rafael’s eyes widened at the dumb pick-up line. His thumb swiped through the photos. One was of an appearance on the news - dressed up in a suit on the steps of the courthouse with a furrowed brow and serious look on his face. One was him at Forlini’s - scowling over the rim of his bourbon while sitting at the bar next to a grinning Sonny. He remembered when Amanda took this picture. It was the day he told Sonny he could be his second chair. Another picture showed him actually smiling - dressed in a Tom Ford tuxedo, champagne flute in one hand while the other was resting on the waist of his date for that night. She was an oil company lobbyist that he hooked up with sometimes when she wasn’t in D.C.

“What is this?” Rafael’s eyes hardened as he looked up at the two detectives. Sonny flinched at Rafael’s tone. Amanda simply blinked at Rafael. She wasn’t one to deal with attitude willingly but given how uptight Rafael could be sometimes, she was letting it slide. Rafael’s eyes went back down to the dating profile and he felt an annoyance bubble within him. “What the hell is this?”

“Calm down,” Amanda said as she grabbed the phone back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just a dating profile.”

“Of me!” Rafael looked at Amanda like she was speaking some foreign, alien language. “Why does it exist?”

Sonny’s face seemed to become more pink. A hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it as his mentor for all intents and purposes became more annoyed. “We just thought it would be fun-”

“You thought it would be fun impersonating a Manhattan A.D.A.!” Rafael’s voice was raised. A few passing officers gave some glances to the group. Amanda waved a dismissive hand to one of them, letting them know that Rafael wasn’t someone to worry about when angry. “You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested.”

Amanda snorted, “We were going to tell you about it when we got you a date.”

“Yeah,” Sonny added, “we just thought you were stressed lately and needed someone to... ya know.”

If looks could kill, Rafael Barba would have murdered two very well-liked and very hard working detectives right then and there in a New York police precinct. He would have to tell Olivia that she would be short staffed for god knows how long.

Rafael’s fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, taking a hard breath before looking back at the detectives. “You think I need your help getting laid?”

Sonny’s mouth gaped like a goldfish, trying to find words but nothing seemed to make itself at home in his pretty little head. He looked over at Amanda with wide eyes, hoping for her to smooth over the situation. Amanda simply shrugged her shoulders, “It’s not that we think you can’t get laid, Counselor,” she paused, eyes almost sympathetic and it made Rafael’s nostrils flare, “you just haven’t had… anyone around… long-term, you know?”

“I’m struggling to find where this is any of your concern,” Rafael pointed a finger at the two of them, “or why you would think I would find it on a dating app.” Rafael’s mind was flooding with things to make the lives of these two detectives a living hell. Maybe if he pulled some strings with Olivia, she’d put them on desk duty for a few weeks. “I want it deleted - get rid of it!”

Amanda held the device out of the prosecutor’s reach, giving him a few nods of understanding but she needed to tell him of one important thing, “But before we do that, you should know that there’s someone who matched with you-” Sonny nodded enthusiastically, “and she messaged you - us? - back.”

“It’s why we were laughing,” Sonny’s smile faltered when met with the fiery gaze of Rafael. He cleared his throat before continuing, “we found the dumb pick-up line on the internet and she shot back with one of her own.”

Rafael’s fire was lessened with the mention of a match. And she happened to message him? Amanda stepped closer to Rafael, finger mindlessly swiping from one screen and to another. There Rafael had seen the actual large amount of messages he was getting. “Seems like more than one match.” He muttered under his breath. And while this whole ordeal wasn’t something he necessarily wanted, the temporary boost of his ego made his shoulders straighten and his tongue dart over his lower lip.

“You’re very popular, Counselor,” Amanda’s brows wagged.

“But we like her the most,” Sonny said, “she seems fun!”

Rafael’s eyes rolled, before they settled on Amanda’s phone.

Are you the Court of Appeals because I’m tryna get overturned.

After he read the message, he couldn’t help the snicker. Back in his Harvard days, Rafael had heard just about every dumb pick-up line you could think of that was in the realm of lawyers. He may have even used a few of them but could you blame the guy. Rafael watched Amanda switch over to your profile.

Rafael swallowed. And then he grabbed the phone out of Amanda's hands. She let out a protest but Rafael had taken a few steps away and studied your profile like it was a law book and he had a final the next day.

It stated your name and your age. Then the same location as Rafael - Manhattan, NY. Your job was stated simply as a lawyer. Huh. That certainly piqued Rafael’s interest. In your bio, you had:

What better alibi could you have than spending the night with me?

He swiped through your photos. One was of you at the Central Park Zoo, scowling at a monkey who was seemingly doing the same thing back at you. Another was of you at a bar or a club - one arm thrown over the shoulder of another woman and a fruity drink held in your free hand. Your attention was focused on your drink rather than your friend or the person taking the picture. The last photo was of you at a brunch of some kind. You held up a mimosa with a wide smile and a large sun hat atop your head.

“Did you say anything back?” Rafael asked. Amanda shook her head with a smirk. You were certainly attractive and if you had taken the time to message Rafael on the cursed app then you must have thought that he was attractive too. He went back to the message you sent and swallowed again. “W-what should I say?”

Amanda’s smirk didn’t falter as she stepped over to Rafael, plucking the phone out of his frozen hands. Rafael heard the speedy tapping of the blonde woman’s fingers, tapping out a message quickly. Sonny stepped over, peeking down over Amanda’s shoulder. Rafael watched Sonny’s face as it went from curiosity to what Amanda was writing and to a lopsided smile, essentially giving his approval of the message.

Rafael didn’t like the idea of Sonny approving anything of his - especially if it came to how he got a date but he patiently waited until a swoosh noise came from the phone. Rafael stepped over to see what she had written but Amanda’s fingers were quick with logging out of the app and swiftly deleting it off her phone.

“Hey-” Rafael couldn’t stop the protest from his lips, brows furrowed. Amanda ignored him, grabbing a sticky note and a pen. She scrawled the login information for the account and slapped it onto his chest.

“I don’t want it on my phone if that conversation starts to get dirty,” Amanda said. Sonny chuckled.

“I think it started out pretty fiery.”

Rafael held the sticky note in his fingers. He could feel his phone in his suit pocket. It felt hot and electric against him, even through all the layers of clothes he wore. “Nevertheless, I’m deleting the account,” he looked over the two detectives with a hard gaze, “and you are to never to do this again. Or else I will be put in jail for voluntary manslaughter.” Amanda swiftly ignored Rafael’s threat whereas Sonny seemed to take it more seriously. The lanky man gave a nod before settling himself at his desk.

Rafael stepped away from the detectives’ desks and dug his phone out from his pocket. His fingers twitched and he felt this wave of embarrassment wash over him as he searched the app’s name and watched it download onto his phone. It seemed to take hours for the dumb thing to fully be situated onto his device. He tapped it, used the sticky note information to log in and was greeted with new profiles to swipe across. He ignored them and went to his messages to see what the pesky blonde detective had said. He hoped it wasn’t something too inappropriate. The last thing Rafael needed was headlines of him sexually harassing women over social media.

He hesitated for a second before tapping on the messages with you. He took a deep breath. He felt nervous. Was it because of the potential can of worms that Amanda could have unleashed? Was it because he found you attractive? Was it because the two detectives were right and it had been a while since he’s had anyone around? While Rafael was capable of finding a temporary suitor to share his bed, he couldn’t find anyone to become something more permanent.

His eyes searched the screen, brain trying to quickly decipher the jumble of letters on his screen. “Ay Dios mío,” Rafael muttered under his breath and the grip on his phone tightened. Rafael thought he read the message a dozen times, just over and over again, trying to really see if Amanda truly did send this to you. He tapped various spaces on his phone, trying to see if there was an undo button but to no avail, the message taunted him.

Something something dictum. Sleep with me.

Rafael was caught off guard by Olivia who called his name from her office door. Rafael cleared his throat, slid his phone back into his pocket with one hand and slid the other down his chest, smoothing out any wrinkles in his shirt. Rafael finally remembered why he was there at the precinct. He needed to do his job and watch a line-up be conducted. Olivia had sounded very confident over the phone, so he figured he had a simple day.

He had spent the rest of his day watching various victims come forward to pick out their attacker confidently. When the defense lawyer monotonously asked to speak with his client after the lineups were done, Rafael felt his phone buzz. For a brief moment, Rafael had forgotten the dating app debacle. He wondered if it was Carmen, telling him of more paperwork and messages that needed to be signed and answered.

But no, it wasn’t Carmen.

It was a notification from the stupid app.

You have a new message!

Rafael bit down on his bottom lip, finger hovering over the notification. He took a breath and tapped his phone. God, what is wrong with me? Grow some cojones, Barba. Rafael watched the screen load and then plaster your message into his line of vision.

Ah, this definitely is a catfish account because there’s no way an ADA would use a line like that.

Rafael smirked. Took a moment to think and then started to type.

The DA has very low standards these days.

You messaged back quickly.

If they’re hiring based on looks, then I’d say they have very high standards, Counselor.

Rafael’s hand lifted to scratch at his jaw, a smile breaking across his face. His eyes widened at another message from you.

Does the prosecution want to rest at my place later tonight?

The forwardness from you made Rafael’s smile turn into a smirk. If Olivia or Sonny had seen him, they would even consider to call it a cocky smirk.

Would you want to meet for drinks first or just take this back to chambers?

I suppose I could side-bar for some drinks.

Great!

He paused before sending another message.

Let’s just agree to not use any more lawyer puns.

Objection!

After setting up a time to meet up at a swanky bar later that night, Rafael entered the bullpen again but with an air of confidence about him. Amanda noticed the shift in energy within the counselor. The corner of her mouth ticked up, fingers fiddling with a pen as she leaned back in her chair, side-eyeing Rafael. “Line-up went well?”

Rafael picked a piece of nonexistent lint off his suit jacket. “It went great, Rollins.” She hummed quietly, eyes studying every inch of his face with amusement.

“We’re heading to Forlini’s tonight,” Amanda stated, “would you like to come?” At the mention of Forlini’s, Sonny peeked over at the two of them from his laptop.

Rafael gave one curt shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.” And with that, Rafael had turned and exited the bullpen and towards the elevator. Even though he hated it in theory of what Amanda and Sonny did, Rafael couldn’t deny that he didn’t not like the outcome of it.

#rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fic #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fluff #rafael barba #raul esparza #raúl esparza #law and order fanfiction #law and order #law and order svu #svu #svu fic #rollisi #amanda rollins #sonny carisi #esparz-uh

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jaehyunoos · 3 years

Text

barista!Jeno, genre: slight angst, fluff tw: swearing

"you're a piece of shit!" you screamed at his face

"h-how- how could you do that to me, this is the fifth time Mark the fucking fifth time!!" you hid your face in your hands trying to calm your cries down.

he did it again. Mark did it again. He cheated on you. He had made a promise. "I won't never do it again baby i love you, please please forgive me" that's what he had said that day when you caught him banging your own best friend. "y/n.." Mark moved to touch your shoulder.

"no!" shoving him away you grabbed your phone and purse "I'm so sick and tired of your games Mark Lee, I'm sick of you i hate you!!" you stormed to the door tears running down your face uncontrollably "y/n I'm so sorr-" slamming the door at his face, you left your shared home.

It hurt, it hurt so damn much. He was an asshole he deserved nothing but the worst but how could you wish that for him? how could you wish the man you love that you hate him?

Looking back at the times you have forgiven him, at the times where you held his sobbing self into your arms as he cried and cried making promises he couldn't keep.

you have gave him so many chances but he always did the same, there is a time where people get tired of others bullshit and that's what you felt right now; tired, betrayed, mad. This was the last straw for you, getting in your car and driving off you made a promise to yourself to never go back to him, as much as you loved him with your whole heart, your whole being you just couldn't stand the thought of him doing it again, breaking your heart all over.

your face red and puffy, hair disheveled you made your way to the almost empty pub hoping to drink away your thoughts. "hello, welcome" a new voice rang in your ears as you sat by the bar "oh hello, where is the other one?" you asked; the 'other one' simply being that black haired, tall and goofy barista who was always the one pouring you drinks as you drank away your pain "oh Johnny? he's not here today I'm in charge" the cute boy smiled at you.

"oh" you let out, now feeling slightly self conscious as your hair was a mess and your face was free of any makeup. The boy in front of you had blue hair with a tint of light blue highlights. He wore a white tee with black jeans, as a hook adorned his pretty nose. "but can i ask something?" he asked as he started to pour your drink "you just did" you let out a chuckle, a tear escaping your eye and for a moment you felt nothing "are you okay miss?" you looked up at him taking your bourbon in your hands, sipping just slightly "do i look okay to you?" the boy's eyes softened for a moment "wait here" he let out as he opened the 'employees only' door.

Coming back out you saw a tube of ice cream in his hands, furrowing your eyebrows you laughed "what is this?" you pointed to the ice cream "i can't drink while I'm on the job but i can eat ice cream with you while you tell me who ever thought of hurting such a pretty girl like you, a penny for your thoughts?" at that moment you wanted to cry, you wanted to hug yourself and sob until there were no tears anymore. You felt yourself tearing up, how can such a simple gesture make you feel so many different emotions.

looking up at his eyes once again, he had a soft smile plastered on his lips "I'm Jeno by the way", another tear slipped down your face and another, and another till your were crying on Jeno's arms. You were tipsy and you had finished the whole tube of ice cream while venting to Jeno.

it was now time for Jeno to close the bar, he patted your back "hey it's time to go, want me to drop you home?" he softly asked tucking a strand behind your ear "let's stay i don't wanna go homeee!!" you sing sang sitting back on the high chair "but i have to close the bar, let's get you home hm?" you shook your head at him "i don't wanna go back home Jeno, i share the place with him maybe I'll stay in a hotel for a while" all the sad emotions you had tried to let out while you were with Jeno came back, and as much as you tried to forget about it it would always be eating it's way back in your head.

"oh i see, let's get you at mines then, hm? what do you think?" you nodded your head "if it's okay with you".

Jeno's place was small but it was the prettiest and the cosiest. It only had a small kitchen, an earthy decorated living room and his bike hang up on the wall, a simple bathroom and his bedroom. "this isn't much but-" you hugged him "thank you for trusting someone you just met enter your home and thank you for letting me stay here" you felt his arms wrap around your figure "thank you for trusting me with your problems" you both pulled away smiling "wait here" he made his way into his room.

After a minute or so you heard him come out of the room dressed in black sweats and a gray hoodie "here you go" he gave you some of his clothes "go change and sleep in my bed, if you need anything I'll be sleeping here" he smiled while trying to move past you to go to the sofa but you grabbed his arm "no I'm not gonna let you sleep on the couch Jeno come on" you pulled him with you.

Changing your clothes fast you made your way into his room seeing Jeno standing there somehow awkwardly "uhh" he scratched the back of his head while smiling sheepishly "come Jen i don't bite" you grabbed him and threw both of you on the bed. "do you um wanna cuddle? i don't-" you snuggled up to him "yes please" he smiled as he wrapped his arms around your figure the only sound that could only be heard was the sound of your breathing as you let yourself fall in the moment.

"Jen" you called out, you felt him hum against you "thank you for doing this all for me and thank you for agreeing on spending your night with me today and-" you felt his lips onto yours, your eyes wide at the sudden movement. He pulled away "I know you're not ready and i know it's only been a few hours but i would like to spend my every night with you and wake up every morning next to you" you were speechless he was right you were not ready yet and it probably will take a lot of time for you to heal "i can wait for you" you heard him say as he hugged you again letting his face fall into the crook of your neck, you smiled at the intimacy "Jen" you called out once again "yeah?" he said "my name's y/n by the way"

(this is my first time writing something and oh my god i don't like it at all help it's so bad !!)

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

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

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

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

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Country College (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine; Part of AU-gust)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I'm also donating all the proceeds that from my buy me a coffee account to Save The Children to help the children of Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee link here.

Also, here's the playlist of songs I listened to while writing this and some of these songs are actually mentioned in the imagine in case you guys wanted to listen while reading: Country College AU playlist.

I went on vacation and I swear, this entire imagine was based on stuff I did in Tennessee and country songs I listened to while there.

Anyway, enjoy!

"You got everything?" Jay asked you at six in the morning.

"For the last damn time, Jay, yes, I have everything," you answered as you jumped in the passenger seat of his truck and put your backpack at your feet and your tumbler of coffee in a cup holder.

"Jesus. I was just asking because I will not be turning this truck around," he said as he moved around the basket of snacks in the backseat so that the two of you could reach them easier. "Someone's cranky."

"Yes. When I finally got to sleep at 12:30 last night and had to wake up at 4:30, I'm gonna be cranky. Please tell me we're stopping for coffee."

"You already have coffee," Will said as he walked up to the truck. "Why do you need more?"

"Shut up. I know for a fact you drink way more coffee than I do, Mr. Med Student."

"Jesus, Jay. You sure you're gonna be able to put up with her for eight and a half hours?" Will asked.

"I dunno, man. Maybe I'll make her ride with you," he joked.

"Yeah, no way in hell that's happening," Will said.

"In all seriousness," Jay started, "stop for coffee in about an hour and a half?"

"Sounds good to me," you agreed.

"Same here. I only have to ditch you guys when we get like eight hours in," Will said.

"Gonna be weird not having you on the drive down, man," Jay mused.

"Yeah, but at least we can meet up at the rest stops and we'll be in the same state."

"Are we gonna go?" you asked. "If you two were just gonna talk, I could've slept for an extra ten minutes."

"Holy shit," Jay muttered. He turned to Will. "Guess we should get going then."

"Yeah, see you in an hour and a half. Don't piss off the driver too much, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes. "Goodbye, Will."

Will got in his car and Jay got in the driver's side of his truck.

"Eight and a half hour drive plus traffic," Jay started as you both pulled out of the driveway, "so how do want to split it up?"

"I'm tired and I wanna sleep and I don't want to drive through Knoxville because I have no idea where to go," you answered as you pulled your headphones out of your backpack.

"Okay, Miss Sassy Pants. You can drive in the middle, through Kentucky. Might hit traffic, but we'll hit traffic in Tennessee, too, so we'll both have to drive through it. Just please, do not crash my truck."

"Relax. I know how to drive. Just make sure Will stays on your ass the entire time so we don't lose each other."

***

"And, we're officially in Kentucky!" Jay announced. "Time to change the music. At the next rest stop, we'll pull over and go to the bathroom and grab some lunch."

"Jay! You can't be on your phone while you're driving!" you yelled as he reached for his phone in the cup holder, which was also acting as the GPS...even though Jay claimed he could get there without it.

"Y/N, I'm fine. I've done this for three years now. I think I know what I'm doing."

"If you say so."

He turned on a song you didn't know.

"Got a truck, get it lifted," Jay started to sing.

"The hell is this?" you asked.

"Country music. Gets changed from pop to country the second we cross the border into Kentucky. Now, shh. This is a good song. You'll like it. It's upbeat."

Jay drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sang quietly to Redneck Be Like by Thomas Rhett as he drove while you listened. He was right. It was a pretty good song.

"All day in the sun, always havin' fun, always gettin' stuck in that muddy river. Always got a buzz, always double cup..."

"You'll know the next one," Jay promised.

"And you know this how?" you asked.

"Because it's on Tiktok. When we get there, Adam and Hailey are gonna have to teach you some southern culture."

"So, I'm gonna need a definition of southern culture."

"You'll see when you get there. Now listen. I know you know this part."

Yeah we fancy like Applebee's...

Jay was right: you did know this song. It was Fancy Like by Walker Hayes.

"On a date night," you sang along. "Got that Bourbon street steak..." Jay joined in. "With the Oreo shake. Get some whipped cream on the top, too. Two straws, one check, girl I got you. Yeah we Bougie like Natty in the styrofoam..."

Five minutes later, you pulled off to a rest stop with a McDonald's nearby. Jay and Will filled up their vehicles while you ran inside to go to the bathroom. Once you were inside McDonald's and at a table eating, you asked Will if it was true that he and Jay always changed it to country music when they crossed the border into Kentucky. Will said yes, so you knew you were in for a long car ride. Then, you and Jay switched so that you were now the one driving and you were off again.

***

Hours later, Will took a different exit to get to Nashville and gave you and Jay a salute to tell you goodbye when he changed lanes and then took the exit.

"Not long now," Jay told you. "You excited?"

"Yeah, but a little nervous," you replied.

"Oh, don't be nervous. They're all really nice. And you've already met Hailey, so that helps."

"Yeah, she was nice. She had a cute little southern accent, too."

"One of the many reasons I fell in love with her in the first place."

Before Jay left for a weekend last summer to meet Hailey halfway and then stay in a hotel for a weekend to spend time with her, he finally told you the story of how he and Hailey met.

"Hey, we're goin' to the marketplace," Adam said on the first weekend of their junior year. "You and Will up for it?"

"Uh, Will's studying like normal. I'm up for it. Kim coming, too?" Jay asked.

"I promised her ice cream, so yeah, she's comin'. Baby, you ready?" he yelled down the hall.

"I'm coming, Adam!" Kim yelled back and then walked out of the bathroom.

"Let's go and make some bad decisions," Adam stated, causing Jay and Kim to laugh.

"We can't even buy alcohol yet, you dummy," Kim said.

"I may be a dummy, but you love me." Then, Adam gave Kim a kiss on the cheek.

"Please stop before I puke," Jay said and made a gagging face.

Adam rolled his eyes. "Let's get outta here."

***

Kim was laughing at a horrible joke Adam made while he had his arm slung around him. He had taken off his signature cowboy hat and had let Kim wear it because she forgot her sunglasses. Adam said he felt naked without it on.

They were walking towards Kilwin's when Jay spotted it: a homeless guy next to a blonde who couldn't be more than college age.

"Man, look," Jay pointed.

The three walked faster.

"No, this is for my friend back at the dorm," the girl explained.

"Lady, I'm hungry. Can I please just have your leftovers?" the guy asked.

"I'm sorry you're hungry, but this is for my friend."

The guy reached for the food.

"Hey, that girl sits behind me in my women and the law class," Kim stated.

Jay, Adam, and Kim took off on a run.

"Hey, baby," Jay said and slung an arm around the girl. He leaned in close to her. "Just go with it," he whispered in her ear. "You got Anna's food?"

"Yeah," the girl said hesitantly. But then, she realized that this guy was trying to help her out. And, he was pretty sure that the girl with him sat in front of her in her women and the law class. "Yeah, I've got her food."

Jay raised an eyebrow at the guy and then looked at Adam as if asking the man to try the two of them.

"Alright, well y'all have a good night now," he said and then turned around and walked away.

Once the man was a few shops down, Jay took his arm off of her. "Sorry about that. Just thought you might need some help," he said.

"Was greatly appreciated, thank you, uh..."

"Jay."

"Jay, well I'm Hailey. Nice to meet you."

He didn't miss her cute little southern accent and he loved it.

"You getting ice cream?" he asked.

"No, I uh was just textin' my roommate to tell her I'd be back soon."

"Well, I-- we'd feel much better if you came into Kilwin's with us. Just so that creeper doesn't come back."

Hailey smiled and agreed.

Kim and Hailey started talking about their class while Adam and Jay ordered their ice cream. Then Kim ordered.

"You want anything, Hailey?" Jay asked.

"Oh no, I'm fine, thank you, though."

Jay nodded, but then turned to the worker. "And can I also get a single scoop of chocolate in a waffle cone, please?"

"Sure thing." As she scooped it out, Hailey looked at Jay and he just shrugged.

When they got to the cashier, Hailey pulled out some money and tried to hand it to Jay.

"I've got it," he said.

"But--"

"Hailey, it's fine. I can pay for a little ice cream."

She loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

"Okay." She took her ice cream cone.

"Hey, Hailey," Kim began when they walked out of Kilwin's. "Do you have friends you need to meet up with?"

"No, I was just gonna head back to my dorm," she replied.

"Oh, did you drive?"

"No, I walked. It's only like a twenty-minute walk from the sophomore dorms."

"Well, after all that, I'm pretty sure we'd all feel more comfortable if you rode home with us."

"I don't know..." Hailey trailed off.

"Those dorms are only like five minutes away from the house we stay at. And, it's on our way there anyway. Please, just come with us."

Hailey sighed. It would be a lot faster than walking. "Okay."

Then, they finished their walk to Adam's truck and the two girls got in the backseat and the two boys got in the front.

And that is how Jay Halstead met the sweet Georgia peach that is Hailey Anne Upton.

***

Jay, Adam, Will, Kim, and Hailey were all at a sports bar one Saturday night in October. It was loud, it was rowdy, everyone was going crazy over the football game on tv, and Hailey was totally over it. And Jay noticed.

"Hey," Jay whispered from his seat next to her. "You wanna get outta here?"

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "You'd wanna leave and not finish the game?"

In the past two months, Hailey had been spending a lot of time with Kim, and by default, she had been spending a lot of time with Adam, Jay, and Will. She will admit going over to their three-bedroom house they all rented together was a lot better than being stuck in her small dorm with her roommate. So, she went over there quite a bit to study with Kim. And, turns out she and Jay were both law studies majors, so they had a lot of the same classes, but they were in different sections, so they did a lot of studying together, too. And, she knew like most college boys, Jay loved his football. Not as much as Adam, but he watched it whenever one of his teams were playing. Which, was Chicago or Tennessee.

"Yeah," Jay started, "it's kinda loud in here anyway. And, it's just Tennessee playing. I'd be more likely to stay if the Bears were playing."

"Okay, let's get outta here. I know a great little diner we can go to for milkshakes. Pretty sure they're open until 11 and it's only 10, so we should be able to make it."

"Adam," Jay said over the game. Adam turned to face Jay. "Me and Hailey are gonna get out of here. I'll see you back at home."

"See you," Adam said and then turned back to his game.

"Guess we know where his loyalties lie," Hailey laughed.

The two of them stood up from their chairs at the table.

"You better get my friend home safe, Halstead!" Kim yelled.

"Yes ma'am," he said, borrowing a line from Adam. "You've got nothing to worry about."

Then, the two of them made their way out of the local sports bar and to Jay's truck.

***

"You've gotta be kiddin' me," Hailey said as the two of them walked up to the diner. "They're closed. Closed at 10 and not at 11. I'm really sorry, Jay."

"That's okay. Got anywhere else you wanna go? Or I can just take you back to your dorm if you want?" Jay suggested.

She sighed. "Just take me back I guess."

The two of them walked back to Jay's truck and got in. Hailey gasped at the song that was on the radio.

"What?" Jay asked, quickly turning to look at Hailey.

"This is my favorite song!"

Lights go down, wheels go around. I'm taking you home. Hoping for a slow song to come on the radio now.

Slow Dance in a Parking Lot by Jordan Davis continued to play through the speakers of Jay's truck.

"What's it about?" Jay asked.

"Slow dancing in a parking lot."

Jay listened to a few more lines and then decided to turn up the radio and jump out of the car.

"Jay, what are you--"

But he was already at her side of the car and pulled her door open.

"Dance with me?" he asked, sticking his hand out for her to take.

"What?" she laughed as a huge smile grew on her face.

"You said the song's about slow dancing in a parking lot and we're in an empty parking lot, so, why not recreate the song?"

Hailey laughed once more and shook her head and then grabbed Jay's hand. He helped her out of his truck and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist and they swayed to the music.

"Slow dance with you. Spinning you round by the Walmart sign and moving our feet over the painted white lines. Getting close to you. Making the most of whatever we got, even if it's just slow dance in a parking lot," Hailey sang quietly.

"Spin," Jay said as he held his hand up.

"What?"

"Spinning you round just like the song says."

Hailey laughed and reached for his hand and did a spin.

"Beautiful," Jay complimented.

"Yeah, right. That's was probably the messiest spin known to man."

"Well, um, it was beautiful. You're beautiful, Hailey."

She was glad it was dark so that Jay couldn't see the heat that rose to her cheeks.

"You're somethin' else, but thank you." She rested her head on his chest as they swayed to the rhythm of the rest of the song.

The song ended and the broadcaster started talking.

"Can I kiss you?" Jay asked.

"What?" she pulled away from his chest.

"I asked if I could kiss you. Was that too much? You know what, just forget--"

"Yes, Jay, kiss me," Hailey smiled and then she and Jay both leaned in.

It was just a peck, but it was their first kiss and despite it being in a dark parking lot late at night, it was still magical.

"You know," Jay began once the quick kiss was over, "there's a Walmart across the street. What do you say we go grab pints of ice cream from there and then you can show me your favorite country songs?"

"I'd like that. Adam didn't show you enough?" she asked.

"I've only got like thirty I like. I need to expand my horizons."

"Okay, let's go."

They held hands in Walmart and then picked out their respective pints of ice cream. Then, they went back to the parking lot of the closed diner and Jay plugged in the aux, allowing Hailey to show him her favorite country songs while they ate their ice cream from the pint and even shared with each other.

Hailey knew nobody would have a first kiss story like that.

Then, at the beginning of the winter semester, Hailey's roommate decided not to live in the dorms anymore. Hailey couldn't afford to pay for a dorm all by herself, so Kim offered to let her stay with her, Jay, Adam, and Will. So, that's how she ended up living with her boyfriend and sharing a room with her best friend, Kim Burgess.

"We're here," Jay announced. "Well, actually, we're a few streets away, but that's one of the lecture halls on your right."

You looked out the window to see a big red and brown brick building with white pillars on the steps. There was also a white sign telling you what building this was.

"Wow," you said in awe. "It's like those old-fashioned colleges. I love it."

"Well, we'll give you a tour and help you find your classes sometime this weekend before classes start on Tuesday. That way, you aren't getting lost on the first day. But, we'll head to the house for now and get all unpacked."

"Sounds good to me."

Five minutes and a few back roads later, you pulled up to a simple two-story brick house.

"Alright, let's get our stuff out and get inside," Jay said.

You stepped out of the truck and started grabbing some stuff out of the back seat.

"I'll jump in the truck and hand you the suitcases. Think you can grab them when I hand them to you?"

You nodded.

"Halstead!" you heard someone shout and you and Jay both whipped your heads around to see Hailey and Adam walking out of the garage and toward the two of you. Adam, well who you assumed was Adam, was carrying two cowboy hats and he and Hailey each had one on themselves.

"Catch!" Adam said and threw one to Jay where he was standing in the box of the truck. Jay easily caught it and placed it on his head.

Adam walked over to you. "And one for you, darlin'," he said as he placed the hat on your head.

"Thank you," you said. "But I thought Kim was darlin'," you said. It'd make sense because if this guy was in fact Adam, then he and Kim were dating.

"You didn't tell her?" Hailey asked Jay.

"Didn't think there'd be a need to." Jay shrugged.

"Tell me what?" you asked.

"Well, Adam calls every girl darlin'," Jay explained. "It's just normal for him. And, down here, you're gonna get a lot of huns, sweeties, and sweethearts. A lot of waiters and waitresses do that here."

"And what do they call you two?" you asked, motioning to Jay and Adam.

"Sir," they said in unison.

"Oh, and you'll occasionally get a ma'am," Hailey added. "But, that one's rare because we don't look old enough to be called ma'am."

"Okay. And, uh, not to be rude, but what's with the cowboy hats?" you asked.

"It's a tradition we just started last year," Adam explained. "We unpack, wear cowboy hats, and drink moonshine. Oh, I'm Adam by the way, darlin'."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

Jay handed you a suitcase and you set it on the ground. Then, you did the same thing with two more suitcases.

You grabbed your backpack from the front seat, your duffle bag from the back, and your two suitcases.

"Here, I can take those two for you," Adam said.

"Oh, okay," you said and then allowed him to take the two suitcases from you. So this is what Jay meant by southern hospitality since Adam was from Tennessee and all.

"Jay, lemme take your suitcase," Hailey said.

"Baby, I've got it," Jay argued as he jumped out of the box of his truck and closed the tailgate.

"The hell you do," she argued. "I see all your other stuff in the backseat and that basket of snacks you gotta carry in, too. Just lemme take your one suitcase."

"Let 'er take the suitcase, Halstead. Best to listen to your lady," Adam said.

"I like Adam already," you laughed.

He let go of one of the suitcases and tipped his hat. "Thank you, darlin'."

This caused all four of you to laugh and then you all went inside carrying both yours and Jay's stuff in one trip between the four of you.

***

"Shine in the fridge?" Jay asked after you and he had brought all your stuff to your room.

"Shine, Jay? How southern do you get when you're here?" you asked.

"Oh, he gets pretty southern, hun," Hailey said.

"See?" Jay asked as he pointed to Hailey. "Told you you'd get called hun."

"So, Adam's thing is darlin' and Hailey's is hun?" Hailey nodded. "And it's because you're from Georgia and he's from Tennessee?"

"That's right, darlin'," Adam confirmed and then turned back to Jay. "Yeah, shine's in the fridge. And Kim just texted and said she's on the way back with pizza."

"You got apple pie flavored shine?" Jay asked.

"Hang on. I'm just gonna grab 'em."

The three of you sat down on the bar stools at the counter and waited for Adam to pull them out.

"Alright," Adam started after he put the bottles of moonshine with sip lids on the counter. "We have peach for Miss Georgia Peach." He passed the peach bottle of moonshine to Hailey. "We've got apple pie shine for me and Jay. We've got strawberries and creme for Kim because that's her favorite." He turned to you. "And for you, I got you blackberry because it's not that high of a proof, so it's not that strong." He slid the jar to you.

"Nuh uh," Jay said quickly and grabbed the bottle.

"What the hell, Jay? Give it back! Adam said it's for me, not you!" you argued.

"Last I checked, you're only eighteen."

"Last I checked, Dad's not here. And I know for a fact you drank before you were 21, so pass me the blackberry shine, please."

"I'll take the first sip and then you can have it." He made sure the straw part was open and then he took a sip. "Adam, that shit's like a chaser compared to the apple pie one."

"I know. That's why I got 'er that one," Adam said.

You heard a door shut.

"Pizza's here!" Kim announced.

She walked into the kitchen with three boxes of pizza.

"I got us three pies," she said as she set them down on the counter. "We got one pepperoni and green olive, one supreme, and one meat lovers." She turned to you. "And you must be Y/N. I'm Kim. I see Adam already got you started on that Tennessee moonshine."

"Nice to meet you," you said. "You're from New York, right?"

"Yup, not New York City, though. More upstate."

"Of course she's from New York, Y/N!" Jay exclaimed. "Who else would call pizza a pie except for a true New Yorker?"

"I'll take that as a compliment. Thanks, Jay."

Jay raised his bottle of apple pie moonshine in a fake cheers and then took a sip.

"Now that's the strong shit I need to start off this semester right," he announced and then set the bottle down.

"Oh, and if your brother didn't tell you yet, he turns into a borderline alcoholic when he's at school," Kim told you.

You laughed. "He didn't tell me that, no."

"Better than being a caffeine addict like Kim and Hailey here," Jay argued.

"Shut up," Hailey said. "You know you're a caffeine addict during finals week just the rest of us."

"I was a caffeine addict in high school, so we'll see what happens," you shrugged.

Kim grabbed a stack of paper plates and set them on one of the pizza boxes. "Dig in. Oh, Y/N, did Adam get you the blackberry flavored moonshine?"

"He did. Haven't tried it yet because Jay has yet to give it back to me."

Kim quickly reached down and grabbed the jar of moonshine.

"Hey, Kim! She's only 18!" Jay protested.

"So? I know you drank an insane amount during your freshman year. So shut it." Kim popped open the sipping lid. "Taste."

You took a sip. It did taste like blackberry, but it was also sort of strong, but it didn't burn your throat that bad like you had read in books that alcohol did.

"This is actually pretty good."

"I know, right? And, me and Hailey will let you try ours when we help you unpack," Kim said. "But, do not try the kind the boys have because it's nasty."

"Baby, I don't know what you have against apple pie moonshine, but it's good," Adam said and then took a sip of his moonshine. Kim rolled her eyes. Adam leaned across the counter. "The New York in her is coming out, darlin'."

"Oh, shut up," Kim said and reached over to steal Adam's cowboy hat off his head.

"Baby, now I feel naked without it," Adam argued and tried to reach for the hat.

"Sucks for you. Now eat your pizza before it gets cold."

***

"Morning," Jay said when you walked into the kitchen the next morning. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good. it's nice not having to share a room with anyone like you and Adam, and then Hailey and Kim have to. It was fun having them help me unpack last night, though," you said.

Last night, Kim and Hailey had helped you unpack and when you mentioned that you didn't really know any country music, Hailey pulled up all of her favorite country songs to play for you. You especially liked Girl in a Country Song by Maddie and Tae. They showed you the music video for that song and it was about how, in most country music videos, girls had to dress up in little skimpy outfits and have the boys just stare at them all day. So, in their music video, they changed the roles, and the guys had to dress in skimpy clothing in the music video. It was pretty funny and the song was catchy.

"Let me guess," Jay began, "Hailey showed you some good country music?"

"Yup. The songs she showed me were pretty good, pretty upbeat. Didn't sound like a cat being put in a blender like old-fashioned country, so I guess that's good."

"What do you have against old-fashioned country, darlin'?" Adam asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"I dunno." You shrugged. "Too slow for me and I just don't like the voices I guess."

"You know what we ought to do, Jay?" Adam asked and Jay raised his eyebrows, silently telling adam to continue. "We should show her all the songs that are mentioned in What's Your Country Song."

"Wait, wait. I think I know that one. I think Hailey played it for me last night. Is it the one that mentions Chatta- Chatta..."

"Chattahoochee?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, that funny word. What even is that anyway?"

"It's a river that runs through Georgia," Jay answered. "Pretty sure Hailey used to go tubing down it like we're gonna do today."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "We're going tubing? Like behind a boat?"

Adam laughed. "Christ, Jay! Do you tell her anything?"

"He doesn't," you answered. "So, explain, one of you."

"Alright, I'll do it," Jay said as he poured milk on top of a bowl of Raisin Bran. You looked at him intently. "What we do is, the first Saturday that we're all together before school starts, we go on tubes and float down the Tennessee River. We bring a cooler full of snacks, sandwiches, booze, and water, and a waterproof speaker and we just have a fun time. Oh, and this year, you're the DD."

"Me?" you asked as you pointed to yourself. Jay nodded. "But I don't know where to go! I haven't even been in Tennessee for a full 24 hours yet!"

"Kim's like the mom of the group," Adam supplied. "So she'll still be pretty lucid and could probably drive if she needs to. But, she'll at least be able to give you directions on how to get back here."

You sighed. "Good. That makes me feel a lot better."

"Where are the other two girls anyway?" Adam asked. "They're usually up a lot earlier than we are when we go on the river."

"I think they were a little buzzed last night," you said. "Might still be sleeping."

While you were unpacking, you took a few sips of your jar of blackberry moonshine, but not a lot. You'd never really drank before, much less drank moonshine and you didn't really feel like puking from being drunk or having a killer headache from a hangover...at least, that's what you thought happened from what you had read in books and seen in movies and tv shows. But, Kim and Hailey had each finished like a quarter of their jar, so they had been buzzed last night. They weren't drunk because they could still walk in a straight line and knew what they were talking about, but they did have little dopey smiles on their faces while they helped you unpack.

"She's right," Kim said as she and Hailey walked into the kitchen. Hailey's hair was wrapped in a towel, alerting you that she had just taken a shower. "Adam, can you grab me an Advil?" She took a seat on a stool and put her head in her hands. "My head is fucking killing me. I didn't even think I drank that much."

Adam laughed. "You do this every semester, baby. First shine of the year and you always drink a little too much." He handed her the pills and a cup of water and Kim quickly washed the pills down.

"I just need some coffee," Hailey announced.

"We know, you don't get hangover headaches," Kim groaned.

"Yeah, but I feel exhausted all day. Everyone goin' for coffee? I'll make a bigger pot if that's the case."

Everyone said yes and Hailey started on the coffee.

***

"Okay, we got the tubes, the speaker, swimsuits are on, we have the towels, cooler," Jay rattled off as the five of you sat in his truck. "Anyone double-check the cooler?"

"I did," Hailey said. "We got water, the same shine from last night, some white claws, the sandwiches me and Kim made for everyone, chips, and a few other snacks."

"And I threw in a little first aid kit with bandaids, alcohol swabs, Neosporin, and other stuff. And I've got the sunscreen, too," Kim said.

"See, what'd I tell you, darlin'?" Adam asked as he turned around from his spot in the passenger seat. "Kim's the mom of the group."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Kim said. "It means I'm responsible and prepared."

"Those two would get so damn sunburned and dehydrated if it weren't for Kim," Hailey said as she pointed to Jay and Adam in the two front seats.

"Thanks, Hails," Jay replied sarcastically. "Real nice."

"You're welcome," she said with a smile.

You leaned your head against the window. You were supposed to get stuck in the middle, but seeing as you got car sick easily, Kim said she'd switch spots with you.

"You okay?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, just, Jay really needs to turn on the AC before I throw up from motion sickness and how damn hot it is in here."

"Least you got that cowboy hat to puke in if you need to," Jay laughed as he reached for the AC. "You better not puke in my tuck or you will be walking home."

Adam smacked him upside the head.

"Ow!" Jay exclaimed and took one hand off the wheel and rubbed the back of his head. "The hell was that for?"

"Dude, be nice! Look at her!" Adam exclaimed.

Jay looked in the rearview mirror and saw you leaning your head against the window with your eyes closed and pinching your nose. You groaned.

"Here," Jay said and tossed you a blue bottle of Gatorade from his cup holder. "Drink this. Get you some hydration and electrolytes."

You took a few sips and then handed the bottle back to him. "Thanks."

"Mhm."

Kim moved the vents so that the AC was blowing on you more. "That help?"

"Little bit, thanks."

"Think you'll be good to go down the river?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, because then I won't be trapped in a hot box going sixty down the road!"

"She's right about that," Adam agreed. "You'll be lucky if you go five miles per hour, darlin'."

"Alright, so the motion sickness should stop. Thank God."

"Just rest your head against the window and listen to some country music," Jay said. "Speaking of that, who's controlling the music on the river?"

"I got it," Adam volunteered. "Everyone give me a song and I'll get the queue started."

***

You had been going down the river for about half an hour now and had finished a bottle of water and eaten a banana, too. You felt fine now. Adam was right, you were going slow enough that you didn't get sick, and you also weren't in the backseat of a truck.

"Hey, Kim," you started, "can you pass me my moonshine?"

"Mhm," she said. You guys had tied a cooler to a tube, which was then tied to Kim's tube. Because, the boys figured that between the five of you, she was the most responsible. They toyed with tying it to your tube because you probably wouldn't get shitfaced (like the boys most likely would) since you were underage, but you had never gone tubing down the Tennessee River before, so they decided on Kim. "Here, Hailey, hold my white claw."

She passed Hailey her drink and then maneuvered the cooler towards her, opened it, and handed you your moonshine.

"Thank you," you said and popped open the sip lid and took a sip. "Ahhh."

"Hey, drink it slow," Adam warned, turning towards you and practically yelling over the music. He and Jay were in front of the three of you girls so they could tell you if there were a ton of rocks coming or if it was super shallow coming up. "Heat makes getting drunk a lot easier because you keep drinking it because you're so thirsty."

"I don't think that's how it works, man, but whatever you say," Jay laughed.

Another song started.

"Hey!" you yelled. "I know this song!"

"Yeah, because it's old as hell," Jay laughed.

"Shut up! I like it!"

Baby you a song you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise. Down a back road, blowin' stop signs through the middle every little farm town with you.

"And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it. Baby you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise," the five of you sang Cruise by Florida Georgia Line while holding your drinks in pure happiness.

Because of this, you didn't notice Jay drifting off to the side toward the trees.

Jay let out a sinister laugh as he got closer. "C'mere, buddy, c'mere." The black snake stuck his tongue out and hissed. "Yeah, I know, you wanna scare Y/N, too." Jay held his hand out toward the snake. "I'm nice, I promise." The snake slithered and went up on Jay's hand and started up his arm. He turned once most of the snake was on him. He started using his other hand to paddle himself back toward the group. "Y/N!"

You turned and looked at him. You saw the snake on his arm and tears pricked your eyes. "No! No!" you shouted.

Snakes were your biggest fear and knowing that they were in the river that you were in right now was absolutely terrifying to you. And, with each paddle, Jay and the snake were coming closer and closer to you.

"Jay, please, please!"

Adam turned and looked at Jay and then back to you. "She scared of snakes?" You quickly nodded as tears ran down your face. "Jay! Stop! She's terrified!"

Jay laughed. "No!"

He was coming closer and closer to you.

Adam quickly paddled over to you and went in front of you. "I won't let it go near you, darlin', don't you worry."

"Uh huh," you said and grabbed onto Adam's arm in complete and utter terror.

Unknown to Jay, Hailey was making her way to him. But, she was behind him, so Jay couldn't see his girlfriend coming up behind him with her empty bottle of white claw raised high in the air.

He felt it before he heard her.

"Don't." Smack on the head with the empty can. "You." Another smack on the head with the empty can. "Do." Another smack on the head with the empty can. "That." Last smack on the head with the empty can.

"Ow!" Jay yelled. "Hails, stop!"

"Put the fuckin' snake back and stop scarin' the daylights outta your little sister or I will keep smackin' you, Jay!" Hailey told him.

"Fine, I'll put it back," he groaned.

"Hailey, keep that can raised above his head. If he tries to come back here, hit 'im again!" Adam yelled.

"You got it!" Hailey said. "Hear that baby? Your head is gonna come in contact with this 'ere empty white claw can again if you don't get a move on."

"I'm going, I'm going," Jay grumbled.

"Good, then you won't get smacked again."

"Just for all that," Adam started, "you wanna pick the next song, darlin'?"

"Can you play Better Dig Two by The Band Perry?" you asked. "That counts as country right?"

"Sure does, darlin'." He started messing with his phone. "Comin' right up."

"I told you on the day we wed, I was gonna love you 'til I's dead," you started to sing. "Made you wait 'til our weddin' night, that's the first and the last time I wear white."

"Snake's gone! Made sure he put it down and I even watched it slither away!" Hailey announced. "Put me in the ground, put me six foot down," Hailey joined in after she had finished yelling over part of the first verse.

"And, as for you, Jay," Adam started over the music and all of you singing. "You don't get to pick a song for the next hour."

"Son of a bitch," Jay muttered.

"Hey, you brought this one on yourself, buddy. So just sit back, relax, listen to our music choices, and enjoy your shine."

***

One week later

"And we're here!" Adam announced as the five of you pulled onto a long dirt driveway. "You ready to ride some horses, Y/N?"

"I dunno," you said. "I've never ridden a horse before."

"Oh, Adam'll make sure you're super safe," Kim reassured you.

"Okay, so whatever horse I ride won't buck me off?"

"Oh no," Adam said quickly, "we'll put Jay on Buck."

"Like hell you will!" Jay argued from the backseat.

Despite the studying the five of you had to do, you were at Adam's childhood home. Adam's parents had rented a cabin in North Carolina for the weekend since it was Labor Day weekend and needed someone to watch the five horses they owned.

His parents used to own a riding place with multiple horses, but since their kids got older, they stopped doing it because they were getting older and couldn't give the tours anymore. So, they sold most of their horses, left five so that their kids could ride them with their friends, but still kept the house and the land. Whenever Adam's parents went out of town, either he or his sister would come and stay over at their childhood home and take care of the horses. Seeing as his sister was married and just gave birth to a daughter, this left Adam. And, luckily for him, his parents were fine with some friends coming over to help Adam out.

"Relax, man," Adam began, "I'll ride Buck."

"Wait, is he called Buck because he bucks people off?" you asked.

"You would be completely right, darlin'. Which, would be the reason I'm riding him and neither of you four will be doing that."

Adam put the truck in park and you got out of the passenger seat. Yes, you had ridden in the front because Adam said you could because of your motion sickness. Jay wasn't too happy, but it was Adam's car, so therefore it was Adam's rules.

You got inside the house and it had two extra bedrooms, one of which was Adam's childhood room and had an extra twin bed in it for when his friends wanted to sleepover (Because, in Adam's words, it was only girls who shared beds at sleepovers and he said guys didn't do that, so that's why there was the extra bed). In his older sister's childhood room, there was a full-sized bed, so Hailey and Kim would share the bed and the boys said they'd move a couch into that same room for you to sleep on.

Adam opened the fridge once all of you had put your stuff in the rooms that would be yours for the weekend. "Ooooh, y'all, my mama left us some food!"

"Oh, he southern southern now," Kim laughed and walked over to the fridge. "What'd she make?"

"Let's see. We got fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cornbread, gravy, biscuits, grits, tater salad, peaches that she canned herself, and apple pie. She must really miss me if she cooked this much!" Adam laughed after he rattled off the food his mom made for all of you.

"Mama's cookin', paper plate, and tater tater salad," you said, quoting a song Jay had played on the way down here that you had taken a liking to and had added it to a playlist and been listening to it a lot the past week.

"Did you just..." Adam trailed off.

"She did!" Jay exclaimed.

"Is it that hard to believe that I know more than two country songs, y'all?" you asked.

All four of them gasped.

"She's southern! She's southern, y'all!" Hailey yelled.

"What?" you asked as you looked around at your brother, his girlfriend, and his two friends in confusion.

"That was yer first y'all, hun!" Hailey told you and pulled you into a hug. "Yer a regular southern belle now."

"Next thing you know, girl's gonna be fallin' for cowboys," Adam said.

"Aw, hell nah," Jay said. "Ain't no way she's datin' a cowboy. No way."

"Shit, Jay just went southern southern, too," Adam laughed.

"What can I say, when my girl goes hella Georgia, I go hella Tennessee," Jay said.

"That made zero sense, baby, but okay," Hailey said. She turned to Adam. "When we ridin'?"

"We can go right now if you want. Everyone good with that?"

You all nodded and then Adam told all of you to put on your cowboy hats.

***

"This 'ere's Maddy," Adam said before he helped you onto the horse. You put your feet in the stirrups. "They feel good? You can reach 'em well?" he asked.

"Yeah," you told him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, darlin'." He turned to Jay, Hailey, and Kim. "You three remember how to get on the horses since we rode so much last year?"

"We're good," Jay said.

"Hey, baby?" Hailey asked and turned to Jay. He turned to look at her. "You think you can help me on 'im? Pretty sure Diablo's gotten a lot bigger since I rode 'im last."

"Yeah, sweetheart, I got that."

"Did he just..." you trailed off and looked at Kim.

"He did," she confirmed. "She turns into sweetheart around this time every year. Jay gets really southern after only being here a week. Might also have something to do with Adam calling me sweetheart sometimes and he just picks up on it."

Jay helped Hailey onto the huge horse named Diablo and then got on his horse. You were riding Maddy, Adam was riding Buck, Jay was riding Sinbad, Hailey was riding Diablo, and Kim was riding Atta'Boy.

"All y'all need to watch me now," Adam announced from the front. All four of you gave Adam all your attention. "Well, mostly Y/N because she's never ridden before." He paused. "To make your horse stop, just give the reins a little tug. To turn, hold the reins on your right side, and pull towards your right hip, like this." He demonstrated and pulled the reins like he told you and Buck's head turned to the right. "And turn left, do the same thing on the left side. To make them go, just flick the reins a little bit, but they're pretty well-trained, so you shouldn't need to do that. But, if they still won't go, give 'em a little kick. I promise you won't hurt 'em. But, most of all, keep at least one hand on the reins at all times. Oh, and they will try to eat on the trails, but they ain't supposed to, so try and get them to stop by pulling up on the reins if you can.

"Any questions? Everyone sure their stirrups and saddles are good?" Adam finished.

Everyone answered with a chorus of "yeses" and then the five of you were off...that was until Maddy decided she was hungry about a quarter-mile (400 meters) in.

And, to make matters worse, you were in the mountains (because everyone is in the mountains here) and Maddy was bringing you closer and closer to a small ravine.

You did not want to have the experience of trying to control your horse and deciding whether or not to jump off or not and possibly being rushed to the hospital.

"Maddy!" you yelled and tugged up on the reins. Nothing. "Maddy!"

"Pull hard!" Jay yelled from behind you.

"I am pulling, Jay!" you yelled back. "Come on, Maddy!"

Shit, she was still moving towards the edge and trying to eat more.

"Pull to the left!" Jay yelled. You pulled. Nothing. "All the way around! To your left hip!"

You did so and she moved. Finally.

"Now straighten out the reins," Jay told you. You did. "And give her a kick to move."

You did and she continued walking...this time with a huge branch and leaves hanging out of her mouth because she had gotten herself a nice little snack.

"What's with all the yellin'?" Adam asked as he turned his head around and had Buck slow down a little bit. Then, he saw Maddy. "Maddy stop to eat? She acts likes she's starvin', but I promise you she's not."

You kept going and then you started going down a hill.

"Lean forward when going down a hill," Adam yelled back to all of you, "and lean back when going up a hill."

You started going down the hill and kept trying to maneuver yourself so you were in the middle of the saddle. You felt like you were leaning too much to the right, so you kept trying to fix it, but with Maddy still walking, it was kind of hard.

You clenched your stomach muscles to try and pull yourself back to center, but it wasn't working. You tried to push up with your left foot because you were leaning to the right, but that wouldn't work either.

"Just hold on tight, Y/N," Jay told you. "Adam!" Jay yelled as you kept leaning to the right and pulled the reins a little harder to make sure that Maddy would stop.

"What?" Adam yelled back.

"We need a little help back here!"

Adam turned Buck around and he got halfway to you and stopped next to Hailey and Diablo.

"She's fallin' off, you big dummy! You gotta go!" Adam yelled. He flicked his reins. "C'mon, go!"

It was like Buck knew what was going on because the minute he lifted his head up and saw you trying to stay in the saddle, he started coming towards you.

"Buck, stay," Adam said sternly and jumped off him. He walked to your right side. "Now, I'm gonna push your saddle to the left and I need you to lean the same way, okay?"

"Lean to the left?" you asked.

"Yup," he confirmed. "One...two...three."

He pushed up and you leaned to the left, which allowed the saddle and you to be re-centered.

"Can you reach the stirrups okay, darlin'?" he asked. "Or do you need 'em a bit higher?"

"I think I need them a bit higher," you answered. "I thought they were fine, but I guess not."

"That's okay. That's what I'm here for. Take your right foot out."

You did as he said and then he adjusted the stirrups and helped you get your foot back in. Then, he did the same for the left foot.

While Adam was adjusting your left stirrup, Maddy was curious about what was in his first aid bag that was attached to Buck's saddle.

"I ain't got no treats in there, you fatty." He put his hand on Maddy's head. "There's nothin' in there for you. Get out." She started chewing on a drawstring that was on the bag. "Okay, I guess you can chew on that."

"So, to get her to turn, do I just pull like this?" you asked and showed Adam.

"Yes, but put your hand further down the reins when you do that. Works better like that."

"Okay, thanks."

"And, if she keeps tryin' to eat, pull up hard--but not too hard and far that you make her walk backward--and if that doesn't work, give her a quick kick. I promise you won't hurt this little fatty right here."

"Okay, awesome."

"You good?"

"I'm good," you confirmed.

"Okay, so if you ever need to adjust yourself, just grab this 'ere saddle horn." He put his hand on the stub on the front of the saddle. "And put two hands on it...unlike me, and then just push down with your foot on which side you want the saddle to go. Pretty simple."

"Okay, got it," you said.

Then, Adam jumped back on Buck and you were off again.

***

You and Kim were sitting up on the bed in Adam's older sister's childhood room that you were staying in and watching a dumb comedy when Adam poked his head into the room.

"Both you up?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kim answered. "Why?"

"Well, I want to go to the rope swing, and Jay and Hailey both fell asleep spooning while watching some shitty movie in the living room, so do you two wanna go? I'm bringing alcohol."

"Adam, it's like 11 o'clock at night!" Kim laughed. "We won't even be able to see the water!"

"Honey," Adam laughed. "I'll leave the headlights of my truck on! I'm not that stupid to have us jump in blind!" He paused. "You two in?"

"Sure," Kim agreed and then turned to you. "Y/N?"

"Why the hell not? I'm in college, let's go!"

"Alright, I'll let you two get changed and I'll grab the towels and the booze," Adam said.

"Adam, if you're the one driving, you cannot drink a ton!" Kim told him.

"I know! I'll just take like two shots and use moonshine as a chaser."

"You got more moonshine?" you asked.

"Holy hell, Adam," Kim agreed.

"Where do you two think I was the past hour? I went into town and grabbed a few flavors. and, I got both your flavors, too. So, y'all can't yell at me. Now, get changed so we can go before Jay and Hailey wake up and decide they want in on this, too."

***

"You good to sit in the back, Miss Car Sick?" Adam asked you.

"Yeah, you said it's only like a five minute drive, so I'll be fine. Thanks for asking, though," you answered.

"No problem, darlin'."

Then, the three of you were off to this rope swing to jump into a river in the middle of the night.

Five minutes later, Adam threw his car in park and left the radio and headlights on. The three of you got out and Adam grabbed the booze and shot glasses and then you followed him around to the back of his truck. He handed the stuff off to you and Kim to hold while he flipped his tailgate down. Then, he used the flashlight app of his phone to see as he poured each of you a shot of gummy bear flavored vodka.

"Cheers to late night decisions and possibly bad decisions!" Adam toasted.

The three of you clinked your shot glasses together and then took the shots.

"Shit. That was strong," you coughed.

"Chaser, chaser," Adam said as he flipped open the sip cap on the blackberry moonshine.

He handed it to you and you took a few sips.

"Compared to that shot, this moonshine tastes like nothin'," you said.

"See? Told you it had a low proof!" Adam exclaimed. "Now, do you two want me to go first so I can show you how it's done?"

"That might be a good idea, yeah," Kim agreed. "You've only brought me here during the day and it's been over a year, so yeah, you go first, cowboy."

"Oh, that reminds me." He took his signature cowboy hat off. "Hold this for me, will you, sweetheart?" He held the hat out to Kim and she took it from him. "Thank you. Now, watch and learn, ladies, watch and learn."

Kim laughed. "Whatever you say, babe, whatever you say."

Adam walked up to the edge of the river and waded in the water to grab the rope. You and Kim stood on the edge of the river and watched as Adam dragged the rope with him as he stood on a rock, which was right below the tree that the rope was tied to. Then, he cinched the rope between his feet and jumped up and swung forward.

"Yeehaw!" Adam yelled.

Then, after a few seconds, he let go of the rope and fell into the river.

The rope dangled back and forth until Adam grabbed it and dragged it in with him.

"Who's next?" he asked as he held the rope out.

"You wanna go, Kim?" you asked.

"You sure you don't wanna go before me?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go ahead," you said.

"You nervous, darlin'?" Adam asked you as he took his hat back from Kim and placed it on his head.

"A bit." You looked down at your feet. "Are there snakes in there?" you practically mumbled.

"Oh, darlin'," Adam said with a wave of his hand. "I can promise you that there's no snakes in there. You've never seen a snake in there have you, baby?" he asked Kim.

"Nope, no snakes. I promise. Now, I'll go, and then you gotta go because it's so much fun!"

Kim grabbed the rope and then made her way up onto the rock. She did the same thing that Adam did and soon it was your turn.

"I'm stealing your aux, babe," Kim said as she walked toward Adam's truck.

Adam raised an eyebrow. "I don't know why you can't just listen to the radio like we've been doing, but go ahead, baby."

Kim walked over to the truck and changed the input to aux and then quickly pulled up Spotify. From there, she pulled up the song Like A Lady by Lady A, formerly known as Lady Antebellum. She turned the volume all the way up on her phone, plugged it into the aux, and hit play.

"Lady!" came out of the speakers as well as the opening chords.

You gasped as Kim came running back to you and Adam.

"How'd you know this one of my favorite songs?" you asked.

Ever since Hailey had played it for you on your first night in Tennessee when you were unpacking and sippin' on moonshine, you loved this song. It was all about feeling like a lady while wearing jeans and drinking and being comfortable with yourself and not needing a man.

"Y/N, I follow you on Spotify. I can see what you listen to. Now, go get to it, lady!" Kim cheered.

You smiled and turned around. You walked to the rock and climbed up on it just before the chorus. You grabbed onto the rope.

"'Cause I feel like a lady," you sang loudly to the music. "Sippin' on tequila with my Levis on."

You clamped your feet around the rope and jumped.

You felt weightless for just about one second and then you let go of the rope and fell into the water with a splash.

The water wasn't freezing, it was a little cold, but it was still decently comfortable. You started swimming back to the shore and grabbed the rope when it swung back toward you.

"Hell yeah!" Adam yelled as he ran up to you and took the rope so you could pull yourself up onto the river bank. "You did awesome! Did you like it?"

"I loved it! Let's do it again!" you yelled.

"See?" Kim said. "I told you that you'd love it!"

"I propose a celebratory shot for Y/N's first time jumping off the rope swing!" Adam said and the three of you headed back to his truck to have more booze.

And that is how you learned that you didn't get hangover headaches like Kim, but got hella tired the next day just like Hailey. But, a little hangover (despite not being old enough to legally drink) was all worth it because of how much fun you, Kim, and Adam had.

***

Months later

"Welcome to Chocolate Moose, everybody!" Adam announced and fumbled with the lockbox to get the key.

Since it was exam season, there was a tradition that started during the winter semester of their sophomore year that was where they'd all go up to a cabin (each cabin had a name and yours was Chocolate Moose) in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, which was an hour away from school, to go study without the temptation of parties and the libraries that were packed as hell and barely had any seats open because everyone and their mama had decided to study there.

He unlocked the door and opened it.

You walked in and were in awe. When you walked in, you saw a small kitchen complete with a stove, oven, microwave, and pots, pans, plates, bowls, cups, mugs, and silverware stored in cabinets and drawers. There was also a small pantry to your right the minute you walked inside.

Off of the small kitchen were the living room and the dining area. There was a circular wooden table with six chairs and there was a tv and a couch that folded out into a bed. Right next to that was a bedroom with a bathroom, which also had its own tv in it.

And, if you walked to the end of the living room, there was a door that led to the first-floor deck that overlooked the Smoky Mountains. On the deck was a wooden table that matched the wood of the deck and six stools, so it would be a nice place to study or eat breakfast or sip coffee in the morning.

The stairs to go to the second floor were above the table (so the table was tucked beneath the second set of stairs). When you got up there, there was a pool table, a bubble hockey table, another couch that folded out into a bed, and a coffee table in front of said couch.

To the right of the couch and coffee table was a California king-sized bed with a trunk in front of it which held the bedding for the pull-out couches. Then, there was a dresser with a mirror to the side of the bed and a closet. There was also a full bathroom with a washer and dryer and a dressing table (so tons of counter space and two mirrors) upstairs as well.

And, there was another deck on the second floor. This one didn't have a full-sized table, but it did have two chairs with a small table between, and a small couch complete with a bunch of throw pillows on one end of the deck. This deck too overlooked the beauty that was the Smoky Mountains.

"Who's that?" you asked fifteen minutes later after you had finished touring the cabin and figuring out sleeping arrangements.

It had been decided that Adam and Kim would take the first-floor bedroom and that you'd take the pull-out couch on their floor. Hailey and Jay would sleep upstairs and you wondered why you couldn't take the upstairs couch like you wanted to because Jay was quick to tell you no.

You knew they weren't gonna try to do the nasty up there since there was no door shutting the upstairs off from the downstairs, so you had no idea why he wouldn't let you sleep on the pull-out couch upstairs.

"Who's that?" you asked again while looking out the kitchen window.

Then, you saw a head of red hair in the driver's seat and rushed out the door to where the person parked their car.

"Will!" you shouted as he got out of the car. "I missed you!" You wrinkled your nose at what he was wearing: a pair of blue scrubs.

"I drove here right after I got off a twelve-hour ED rotation," Will told you. "Hence the scrubs."

"I would give you a hug, but who knows what kinda bodily fluids have been on those."

"Good choice. We'll postpone the hug until after I take a quick shower and change."

Adam, Kim, and Jay came outside and said their hellos to Will, and Jay took Will's backpack, making a joke saying that it felt like he stuffed a ton of rocks in there.

So, now you knew why you couldn't sleep on the pull-out couch upstairs: Will was sleeping there.

***

"Fuck!" you yelled as you felt a bee sting you on the upper part of your left inner thigh.

"What?" Adam asked.

You, Adam, and Kim were outside at the table on the first-floor deck studying while Will was upstairs studying and Jay and Hailey were studying one of their law studies classes at the kitchen table together.

"The fuckin' bee stung me!"

"Well, you were swattin' at him, darlin'," Adam said, which earned him a smack to the arm from Kim.

"Because he was between my legs!" you argued. "What was I supposed to do? Let him fly up my shorts and sting me there? Oh hell no!"

You got up and walked inside.

"Will!" you shouted the minute you closed the door to the deck.

"Y/N! Keep it down!" Jay scolded. "We're trying to study!"

You had made it up the first set of stairs and leaned over the railing. "Well, I just strung by fuckin' bee, so I think I can yell a bit, Jay! Will!"

"What?" he said and ripped out his headphones when you got all the way upstairs. "Med school's no joke, you know!"

"Well, what do I put on a bee sting?" you huffed.

Will sighed. "Hold on. They asked me to be the one who brought the first aid kit and I'm glad I did."

He got up and then came back with a bottle of lotion.

"Put this on it. Should cool down the stinging. Tell me if it gets worse or starts itching."

"Okay, thanks."

You put it on and hoped it would be better soon.

***

Okay, so this bee sting wasn't getting better. It was actually getting worse.

It had been itchy all day and you were currently shaving your legs in your shower. You felt the place where the bee had stung you and it was swollen as if someone had shoved a disk the size of an Oreo in your leg at the place the bee had stung you.

You got out of the shower, got changed, and walked out of the bathroom where country music was blasting and Jay and Adam were playing a friendly (okay, so maybe not so friendly) game of pool.

"Hailey, is my bee sting supposed to be super itchy?" you asked as you sat down on the couch next to her.

She and everyone else was drinking one of their two allotted white claws. Yes, during finals week you had all decided there needed to be a daily cut-off for alcohol so that you could all get your shit done. And, it helped keep everyone accountable since everyone in the cabin was only having two per day...and you weren't spending a ton of money this weekend on alcohol.

"Um, none of mine have ever been," she said. "Will!" He turned to look at her from where he was sitting and intently watching the pool game...mostly to make sure neither Adam nor Jay cheated. "Her bee sting supposed to itch?"

"Not unless she's allergic to bees...and she's not." He stood up. "Go lay on the bed and let me take a look."

"Oh, fuck no! I am not letting my brother look there!"

"Y/N, I'm a med student. I've seen a helluva lot more than a bee sting on your inner thigh. You can even go put on some short spandex if that would make you more comfortable."

You currently had on loose-fitting shorts that you knew would fall back to expose what underwear you were wearing if you let Will take a look. "Actually, I think I'll go do that," you said.

You quickly grabbed a pair of spandex from your suitcase and went back into the bathroom and changed into them.

"Y'all check for a stinger?" Adam asked.

Will must've filled him in when you were changing your shorts.

"Shit," Will cursed. "I knew there was something I forgot to do."

"What kinda fuckin' doctor are you if you forget to check something like that?" you asked Will rhetorically. "Hailey, I'm gonna need that empty white claw bottle to smack Will over the head with like you did to Jay on the river."

"Sorry, hun," Hailey apologized. "I ain't finished with this 'ere can yet."

"I'll hit him!" Jay yelled, putting down his pool stick and grabbing his empty can.

He hit Will on the arm with the empty white claw can as hard as he possibly could.

"The fuck?" Will yelled. "Why'd you do that?"

"I dunno." Jay turned to Adam. "Why were we hitting Will, again?"

"Holy shit," Adam muttered to himself. "Because he forgot to check Y/N's bee sting to see if the stinger was still there."

"Oh, okay. That was stupid, Will."

You laid on the bed and let Will look at the spot the bee stung you. Then, he put on a pair of gloves and pulled out a pair of tweezers.

"Hailey?" he called. She looked up expectantly. "Can you come over here and hold up a flashlight? I think I found the stinger."

Hailey got up and turned on the flashlight on her phone and crouched down next to Will.

"That good?" she asked as she finished positioning the phone so the phone's flashlight was pointing directly at your bee sting.

"Yup." He looked up at you. "Now, I'm gonna put one of my hands above the bee sting, that way you won't be able to see the tweezers go in. Sound good?"

"Mhm. At least this is better than when Jay tried to attack me with a snake!"

Will laughed. "I bet."

Five minutes later, the stinger was out and Will told you to put Neosporin and a bandaid over it just so you didn't keep itching it because he told you the itchiness wouldn't go away immediately.

"I need a drink," you said after you were all done.

Hailey handed you a raspberry white claw from the mini-fridge next to the couch and you popped it open.

"Thanks," you said.

"You're welcome."

"Everyone shut up!" Adam yelled. "This is Jay and Hailey's song...well, they didn't exactly meet at a bar and Hailey wasn't drinking a white claw, but it was a Saturday and those two did ditch us. So, dance you two!"

They tried to object, but Adam dragged Jay over to Hailey and Kim pushed Hailey up off the couch and towards Jay.

"Sittin' over there in the corner, baby, I saw pretty red lips workin' on a white claw," you all sang along to Single Saturday Night by Cole Swindell. And, you'd be lying if you said that this song didn't remind you of the story that Jay had told you about the first time he took Hailey out when she was bored one Saturday night in a sports bar. "Shakin' to a little Shook Me All Night Long. And I thought, man, what a beautiful sight."

You smiled. Four months ago, there'd be no way you'd know this song. But, thanks to your brother's friends and his girlfriend, you knew so many more country songs. But, most of all, if your first semester of freshman year was any indication, you were going to have the time of your life going to college here in Tennessee.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading! Again, please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love reading all your comments and seeing that you voted because that means you enjoyed reading the imagine! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you! Again, I am donating all my proceeds on buy me a coffee until the end of AU-gust to Save The Children to help the children in Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee here.

Taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl@dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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babayagakeanu · 3 years

Text

How Will I Know? -part one

Pairing: Jethro Gibbs/reader

Summary: in which the reader is hopelessly in love with her boss, who is completely oblivious.

Warnings: none for now

Word count: 1397

A/N: This is my first chapter fic/Gibbs fic ever so pls be nice 🥺

Your boss was known for his elusiveness to technology. He still didn’t know how to properly search the internet on his phone, nor send a comprehendible text. The team and you had teased him for months about his typo on “Caesar salad” in which he actually typed “sexual salad”. You all were confused as to how he managed to type that bad of a typo, but nevertheless, teasing ensued. Tony was doing the most of it while you and Kate were giggling into your paperwork. Gibbs had managed to crack a smile while also getting up to smack Tony in the head. You were just finishing up the case that the team just solved, and you were looking forward to having a few drinks with your co-workers. You were going to Kate’s after you finished up at your desk to get ready with her before carpooling to the pub that McGee and Abby picked out.

“Gibbs, are you coming to the pub with us?” Abby asked Gibbs, sitting down in McGee’s lap as he typed some things into the computer. Gibbs grunted, looking up from his papers, stopping to sip his coffee before answering. “Uh, yeah. Sure, why not?” Your stomach sank, knowing that Gibbs was going to be there tonight worried you. Now, you really had to figure out what to wear and how to style your hair. “I might even bring the red-head I met while on the job last week.” You couldn’t stand to hear another word of this so you moved from your desk, setting the file down on Gibbs’ desk, and walking out of the office without a word. Gibbs noticed this, and watched as you left, a pang leaving his gut feeling empty.

Kate’s apartment was cute, decorated well and felt homey. You had entered with a large duffle bag stuffed with different outfit options and all the makeup you had.

“Jeez, Y/n, are you going away for a week?” Kate snorts, leading you into the large bedroom in which you two would get ready in. “How are you feeling after today?” You sighed, knowing full well that she would bring what happened between you and Gibbs up when you were to get ready together. “I don’t really know, Kate. I’m disappointed because for once, I thought we were finally getting closer to each other. I mean, he told me about his first wife!”

“Wait! He did?” Kate’s eyes almost bulge out of her head and your response to her is nodding while finishing the final touch of your makeup. Gibbs had opened up to you about his first wife while out on lunch with you. Part of you hoped he was taking you on a date, but then he didn’t ride back home with you after, instead he hopped into a Mercedes with some red-headed chick and sped off.

“Yep. Then he got up after we finished and left with some other girl.”

“Ouch, wrong move, Gibbs.” You nod, sighing as you looked down at her bed, her sheets forgotten under the mile-high pile of clothing. You opted for some bell bottoms that hugged your curves, and a tube top that tied at your waist and shined under the moonlight. You looked as good as you felt, and were ready to show up Gibbs female toy. You paired the looks with chunky earrings and heels and you and Kate called a cab to make your way to the pub, letting Dinozzo know in the process.

——

“Gibbs!” Tony called out, watching as his boss lugged beers back to the table in preparation for the others to come. “Y/N and Kate are on their way here!” Gibbs nods and Tony doesn’t know if it’s nerves or Gibbs just hates going out, but he looked worried, like he was hoping for someone to be there. It wasn’t any longer than 10 minutes of awkward silence between Dinozzo and Gibbs before you guys showed up, ironically saving the day. You two looked around the room before you spotted Tony and Gibbs.

“Wow, Y/N looks sex-”

“Wanna finish that sentence, Dinozzo?” Gibbs shoots him a hard glare, a mechanism he can’t control all that well. Tony was right tho, you did look sexy. Your skin glowed even under the dim lighting of the bar and Gibbs eyes gave you an inspection as you walked to the table. He looked on as your hips swayed, your navel looking absolutely sinful. You reached the table and Gibbs cleared his throat, greeting the two of you with a small smirk and a nod. You were relieved to find that Gibbs’ lady friend was there, so you could get tipsy without being so uptight about her being in your general vicinity. You look at your beer, before shaking your head and returning it to the bartender, asking for something else.

“A glass of Bernheim. Neat.” You tell the bartender, and you feel a presence slide in next to you. Hoping it’s not some random, you look to your left to be meet with Gibbs.

“Didn’t take you for a bourbon girl.” He notes, ordering himself a glass.

“Correction, bourbon woman.” You point a finger at him, laughing as he rolls his eyes. “My mistake, y/n.” He adds, and there’s a subtle warmth to his tone, like your name was meant to roll off his tongue. There’s a moment of silence before you speak. “Where’s your little lady friend?” His head turns to you and you shrug. “I thought she was coming.” You sip your glass, eyes not moving to glance at him as you finish your sentence. There’s an edge to your voice, and you’re pretty sure Gibbs notices this, but he doesn’t seem to say anything.

“I’m not seeing her anymore.” he says, signaling the bartender for another round, which you gladly accept, gulping down the amber liquid, not even realizing the agonizing burn in your throat.

“Oh,” was all you said, and you were glad because while you knew she was Gibbs type, she was uptight and needy, as if she wasn’t her own person without Gibbs. You knew Gibbs’ type. Laidback, easy on the eyes, independent and strong. All things you knew you were yet he still never made a move, insert rule number twelve.

———————————————————————————————————-

You were on your fourth bourbon and you were edging drunk, but still managed to have your coordination and your voice never slurred. Your arms brushed against Gibbs’ a little, and he got a hint of your perfume; smoky, with a singe of vanilla at the end. You smelled like a warm campfire, and God help him if he didn’t get a little stiff in his pants.

You stared at him, looking deep into his steely blue eyes and you think back to all the missed lunch dates with him, the flirtatious glances and remarks, his hand brushing against your lower back as he passes you in the office, everything single thing he does, it bothers you because you can’t tell him how you feel because of that fucking rule #12.

“You know, Gibbs...” You start, “I have to get something off my chest.”

His head turns to you, “Okay.”

You took a deep breath, letting it out as you spoke. “For a while, I was quiet and apprehensive towards you. It wasn’t because I feared you, but because I respected your work ethic and your boundaries. It wasn’t until we started to go out to lunch together, talking about our daily lives and getting to know each other as more than boss and employee.” You look at him, and find him gazing intently at you. You clear your throat again. “I’m in love with you. All of you, Jethro. You make me feel things that I haven’t felt since my junior year in college. I know about rule number twelve, and if that’s something you can’t break, then consider me gone from this team and you won’t see me again.” A tear slips from your eye, and you quickly wipe it away.

“How long have you felt this way?” he asks, and you knew you were screwed once you tell him. You were silent, but begrudgingly answer. “Ever since I joined.”

It’s painfully silent, you could hear a pin drop. Your heart breaks when Gibbs gets up from the table, and leaves you to sulk in your bourbon.

#jethro gibbs x reader #eventual smut #chapter fic #jethro gibbs imagine #love #boss/employee relationship #breaking rule 12 #set during season one #ncis reader insert #ncis chapter fic

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word-scribbless · 3 years

Text

Oh Baby: part 6

Brainstormed and co-wrote with @gibbsandpridegirl

Masterlist - oh baby Masterlist

Gif not mine!

—————

Amelia is a little younger than 2 when y/n and Gibbs wake up to her screaming for Gibbs after a nightmare.

“Poppa! Poppa!”

Gibbs and Y/N both jolt up and rushed to her room.

“You okay baby?”y/N asked as Gibbs scooped her from her crib.

“Poppa! Need Poppa!” She wailed, barely awake.

“I’m here baby girl what’s wrong?” Gibbs soothed.

“Scared!”

“Did you have a nightmare princess?” He asked calmly, as he swayed her gently.

She nodded into his chest and Y/N rubbed her back, and whispered, “It’s okay baby, you’re okay. We’re here and Poppa has you, you’re safe.”

Gibbs smiled and kissed Amelia’s head, leaning into his wife. He loved the way Y/N never got jealous that Amelia clung to him when she was sad or scared. She once told him she couldn’t get mad at their daughter for doing exactly what she does when she feels that way.

Y/N kissed her head and then Gibbs cheek.

“I’ll warm up some milk, want some tea? She asked Gibbs. Who nodded, he was usually a coffee drinker of course, but Y/N never offered that after midnight (unless they were on a case)

“Come on little girl let’s sit.” He cooed. “You’re okay you’re safe.”

“I scared” she whimpered.

“I know princess” he said, rocking her and rubbing her backl

“Poppa ing?”

“Sure sweetie poppa can sing for you.”

“-oana!” She sleepily requested.

“Moana again?” He chuckled.

“Mhm!” She hummed, nuzzling into his chest.

“Anything for you”

He began singing one of the calmer songs from his daughters favorite movie while rocking her on the chair. As soon as Y/N walked into Amelia’s room she smiled at her husband and their little girl curled up on the big rocking chair in her room, and listened to his soft singing for a moment.

“Wanna bring her to our room?” She whispered, setting the drinks on the dresser.

He shook his head. “Let’s just stay here for a minute” he said moving his arm and Amelia so that Y/N could slide into his lap.

“Guess she didn’t need the milk, just Poppa.” She said as she stroked the mostly asleep girl’s face.

“Luh Poppa!” She murmured and snuggled deeper.

“I love you princess” he cooed.

“And momma” she added quietly before falling asleep inHer dads arms.

“And I love you” she whispered and then looked up at Gibbs. “Well at least she didn’t forget me!” She smiled beforelaying her head on her husbands chest and nodding off as well.

The week after the nightmare incident, Gibbs had been stuck on a case for 3 days. Y/N and Amelia had been doing well but missed him very much and y/n could tell her little girl was struggling with out her dad. They drew him pictures and she played videos of him every night, he called when he could.

Y/N knew Amelia was a daddy’s girl through and through, but she knew she was lucky with how well she did when he was away. She pouted about him being gone for story time, and refused to break from Gibbs and her morning routines, but overall she was a sweetie.

Y/N woke up that morning and almost forgot about the Gibbs and Amelia morning ritual... then she’d see the not so sweet side.

“Poppa!? Or momma?” Y/N heard through the baby monitor.

“Oh crap!” Y/n said as she messed up her hair again. Then laughed at how Amelia always tacked her name on as an afterthought.

Gibbs had made a habit of getting up early with Amelia and getting ready in the guest bathroom with her sitting on the counter, so when he was away Y/N kept up pretenses. Sure there were times when Y/N made Amelia compromise and learn to deal with things not going her way.... but she figured the least she could do when her dad was away was stick to routine.

“Hey bug!”

“MOMMA!” Amelia squealed.

“Momma work?” Amelia asked and y/N smiled at her use of words and her little hopeful and questioning face.

“Nope, momma doesn’t have work today! But you and me are gonna head to the library and get some shopping done!” It was the summer, so unless she was needed for a case, she was at home with Amelia.

“Yayyyy” Amelia squealed and then frowned “where poppa?”

“He’s still out catching bad guys”

“Bad guys” she grunted with a pout.

“I know I miss him too! Let’s go get ready in the daddy bathroom and then we can send him a video to say hi sound good?”

“YAYYYY”

Amelia sat of the counter kicking her little feet as she “helped” y/N with her hair and makeup. She loved when Y/N would puff her face with her foundation brush and would giggle for minutes afterwards. She requested “Poppa hair” which was 2 high ponytails with mismatched hair ties. Y/N always made a joke when she asked for Poppa hair that no one would ask for that hair cut. To which Amelia would say NO NICE! And laugh along with them. They finished getting ready and sent Gibbs a video before getting dressed.

Y/N stopped at the door to do the next Amelia and Jethro ritual.

“MOOO” Amelia yelled when y/n picked up her keys.

“I didn’t forget, ya goof!”

“Okay ‘ready to go Miss meali moo?” She said in the best Gibbs voice she could.

“MOOOOO” Amelia yelled and nodded before kissing her mom, causing y/n to laugh and shake her head.

‘Of all the traditions he could start with you he has to have you moo when you leave the house.”

Gibbs had started saying ‘see you soon meali moo’ when he left the house or ‘you ready meali moo’ if they were leaving together, to which Amelia would yell “moooooo” and give him a kiss.

Y/N and Amelia had a good day but she could tell their daughter was missing her daddy. Before she fell asleep in the car she started to cry and when Y/N asked what was wrong she said “me want poppa” y/N decided that when she woke up they’d give him a call.

She didn’t have to though, Amelia had just woken up from her nap about 20 minutes after they got home, and her and Y/N we’re having a little Moana dance party in the living room when the door opened and Amelia squealed

“Poppa home!”

“Yayyyy poppa’s home! We missed you!” Y/N cheered and Gibbs smiled wide.

Y/N started to walk Amelia to Gibbs, holding onto her hands, when Amelia broke free and started wobbling to Gibbs all on her own.

Y/n gasped and Gibbs crouched down to meet her when she got there. He scooped her up and swung her around and Y/N clapped and ran over to hug them.

“GOOD JOB BABY!” Gibbs cheered

“you walked baby!!! You walked to Poppa!” Y/N laughed and kissed her cheek

“Poppa home!!!!!!” Amelia giggled.

“Yeah meals I’m home! And you walked!”

“You did so good bug!” Y/N said

“Meali walk!” She squealed.

“Yeah meali walked! Good job!”

Gibbs spent that night with his girls, celebrating his daughter walking by watching Moana (again) curled up on the couch. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought about how different his life was before Y/N and Amelia flipped it upside down. After a case like this 3 or 4 years ago he’d be alone, with bourbon in the basement. Now he sat with his wife curled into his side, humming to the closing song of Moana, and their almost 2 year old daughter sound asleep on his chest.

“What?” Y/N smiled up at him after hearing him huff a small laugh.

“Nothin”

She cocked an eyebrow, not believing him.

“Just thinkin’ how different my life is with you two in it.”

“A lot less quiet” she smiled and nuzzled her nose into his cheek.

“Quiet is overrated” he smirked and captured her lips. “But only with you two.”

Y/N smiled and snuggled into him, drifting to sleep.

About an hour later she woke up and noticed Gibbs sound asleep with Amelia still on his chest. She carefully went to scoop her up and suddenly the little girl let out a loud wail.

Y/N quickly placed her back on her husbands chest and she stopped and settled down immediately.

“In whose world was that gonna work?” Gibbs let out with a sleepy laugh.

“Don’t be smug! I know you’re her favorite, I was just trying to let you rest.” She laughed as Gibbs lifted their daughter up to carry her upstairs.

“How about we put her down together?” He says turning back to her with a smile. She nods and follows behind him.

“I can’t honestly blame her for picking you as her favorite.” Y/N said as she nuzzled into his back after he had laid her in her crib.

“Oh stop it” he smiled, turning around in her arms, “our little girl is so lucky to have you.

“And you” y/n whispered back.

Much like everything, Amelia seemed to reach the terrible 2s early. At 20 months old she refused to take a bath. Y/N couldn’t complain if that, and refusing to sit in a high chair to eat were her only ‘bad’ habits at this age. However she needed to bathe the child.

The poor girl didn’t just dislike baths, she was terrified of them. Y/N tried everything; shower crayons, toys, a little seat. Nothing worked. She was reduced to tricking the girl into bathing in the sink, half the time fully clothed, and now she was even catching on to that. After another week full of failed attempts, Y/N had an idea.

Amelia was sitting on the floor with Gibbs reading a book after dinner when Y/N crept over to them with a smile that gibbs knew meant she was up to something.

“Hey you” he said as she leaned over to kiss him.

“Hi momma! No bath!” Amelia informed her, and y/n just kissed her head.

“sooo I have an idea!” She said to Gibbs with a smirk.

“What’s that?” Gibbs questioned and cocked an eyebrow as She held up a pair of hisswim trunks.

“It’s February, we going swimming?” He teased and Amelia gasped “swimmy?”

“Sorta?” Y/N singsonged

“Imma need more y/n”

“Well Ami refuses to take a bath...” she whispered the ‘b word’ “ I’ve tried everything short of pulling out the big guns” shaking the swim trunks at him.

“I’m the big guns?” Gibbs laughed

“Always” she nodded and gibbs smiled.

“Come on meals we’re going swimming!” He said scooping the little girl from her play mat and grabbing the swim trunks from Y/N “you’re not getting out of this Y/N/N” he joked as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

Y/N was already in shorts and a T-shirt she didn’t mind being soaked, she took Amelia to get the bath set up as Gibbs got changed in their room.

“Daddy go swimming?” Amelia asked as Gibbs walked in, in his swim trunks.

Yup you and daddy are gonna go swimming” y/n told her.

“But no bath!”

“You have to go in the tub to go swimming with daddy.” Y/N reminded her, terrified that not even this would work.

“Yup! And mommy makes the best baths”. Gibbs said as he kissed y/N’s head and stepped in the tub.

“ coming in miss Amelia?”

“SWIMMMM”

Luckily y/n laid down towels on the floor before their little swim party because the Gibbs family spent the next hour splashing and giggling. In between the fun gibbs and Y/N took turns washing their daughter as the other distracted her.

“Bath is fun momma!” Amelia giggled as she dried her off with her little hooded towel.

“Sure is, bug!” Y/N smiled.

“That’s right my little monkey” Gibbs laughed as he kissed her head. “No more fighting mommy for baths!”

“Otay we swim again?”

“Of course princess”

Y/N smiled as she took Amelia to her room to put her jammies on her. She was so lucky to be raising this sweet little girl, with the most amazing man in the world.

Not long before Amelia’s second birthday, it was Y/N’s turn to be the one out of town. She was asked to speak at a linguistics conference in New York. At first she was going to turn it down, but Gibbs encouraged her to go. He even got Andi on board to convince her, saying she would be on call to scoop Amelia up if Gibbs had a case. They both knew Y/N was worried about making Gibbs miss work for her to go. With assurance that everything was covered, Y/N agreed.

As much as Amelia is a Daddy’s girl, she was used to spending at least a part of every day with her mom. Gibbs knew she might have trouble adjusting, just like he knew Y/N would struggle with leaving her.

The day before she left for New York Gibbs declared a family day.

“Poppa!” Amelia squealed as he came in her room that morning to scoop her up.

“Hi sweet girl! Don’t be too noisy! We’re gonna surprise momma”

“Sprise?” She peeped.

“Yup! Momma has to go away for a little bit tomorrow so we are going to spend all day together.”

“Momma go way?” She pouted

“Yeah, but only for a little bit! And today we all get to play together”

“YAY!”

“Shhh little goose! Let’s go make mommy breakfast.”

“Cakes?” She whispered

“Of course! Poppa’s pancakes are momma’s favorite.”

Amelia clapped as they went down to the kitchen to make breakfast.

“Hey you two, what’s going on down here?” Y/N asked as she entered the kitchen a while later.

“Spise” Amelia yelled, her form of surprise.

Y/N smiled and picked her up out of her high hair she sat in to “help” Gibbs cook.

“Mmm pancakes? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Everything” Gibbs smiled and kissed her gently.

“Momma go way?” Amelia asked with a pout.

“Bu- no- yet!” She continued in her little gibbs voice, repeating what he had told her earlier.

“That’s right princess, not yet. So we are spending the whole day together!”

“Aw the whole day?” Y/n smiled and hugged Gibbs and Amelia close.

“Yup. I took off” Gibbs said like it was nothing.

“YOU WHAT?” Y/n gasped

“Aaaat?” Amelia mimicked (it was her new phase and Y/N and Gibbs loved it).

“Tony is in charge and they aren’t to call me unless all hell breaks loose or there are zombies.” He laughs and Amelia giggled and starts to moan like a zombie.

“She learned that from Abby” y/n chuckled, “and she taught Riley” she tickled her. “Andi loooooves it” she joked.

They spent the whole day together. They went for a walk in the park, had a picnic, spent the whole day doing their favorite things. including family bed time, where they would all snuggle up in their big bed to get Amelia to fall asleep and then Gibbs would carry her to her bed once she was out.

Right before she fell asleep Amelia rolled over on her usual spot on Gibbs chest and reached for Y/N.

“Momma uggle” she whispered and Y/N scooted closer as Gibbs moved Amelia to be on her chest. He rolled on his side and curled up with one hand on their daughters back and is nose nuzzled against his wife’s face.

Y/N sniffed and Gibbs felt a tear trickle down her cheek.

“Hey” Gibbs whispered and kissed the tear away. “You okay?”

“Mhm, I just. I’m going to miss you both so much” she said snuggling into them both.

“And we’ll miss you but you’ll be back so soon.”

“I know, I just! God I love you both so much” she sniffled again.

“And we love you.”

He kissed her temple and played with her hair until she fell into a peaceful sleep, before he carefully scooped Amelia up and took her to her room. He came back and curled up around Y/N sighing happily and she nuzzled into his side.

The next day, went left for New York, knowing her little girl was in the hands very best friend and most importantly,her amazing husband.

The first night Y/N was gone, Amelia slept in the big bed with Gibbs. They knew how to get the little girl to sleep with out Gibbs there when she was wailing and missing him, but neither Amelia, or Gibbs knew how to deal with going to bed with out Y/N.

“Momma home soon?” Amelia asked sleepily and Gibbs nodded.

“Just 2 sleeps”

“poppa stay?”

“Mhm, poppa will be here when you wake up, and then you’ll get to go play with aunt andi and Riley while Poppa is at work.”

“Otay”she nodded sleepily as she clung to Gibbs’ t-shirt that Y/N always slept in. Y/N had stolen another one from his closet to take with her, she wanted her little girl to be able to sleep but she couldn’t sleep with out his smell either.

“Momma call?” Amelia peeped sleepily.

“Yup any minute now” Gibbs said as his phone began to ring. “See?” He said turning the screen to show y/N’s picture. They had their nightly bed time routine with y/n on the phone, and then Gibbs and Y/N talked until she fell asleep on the line. He chuckled slightly and whispered an ‘ I love you’ before hanging up.

The second morning that Y/N was away, Gibbs got a phone call that a case came in, so Andi and Riley rushed over to get Amelia ready to take to their house for the day while Gibbs headed in.

About a half hour later Gibbs phone lit up with a call from Andi.

“Everything okay?” Gibbs answered

“Yeah, except why the hell is your daughter mooing at me and refusing to leave the house?” Gibbs chuckled and tried to quietly explain the “meali moo” ritual with out Tony hearing from his desk. “Put me on speaker” he said after his hushed explanation.

He walked alway from the desks and said “have a fun day with aunt andi, I’ll see you soon meali moo!” And chuckled as he heard his daughter yell ‘mooooooo’ through the phone.

When he got back to his desk Tony was up with his gear.

“We got a lead, ready to go gibbsy moo?” He snickered until he was met with a Gibbs slap to the back of the head.

The case was wrapped up quickly and Gibbs was about to head home that night when he got another call from Andi.

“She mooing again?” He joked but stopped laughing when he heard her tone.

“Gibbs I need you to get here now!”

“What’s wrong? Are you guys okay?” He said as he raced to his car.

“Some guy was here! Said he’s Ami’s grandfather and he was demanding to see her.”

“Where is he now?”

“Outside I have all the doors are locked and Josh is down there making sure they stay that way, and waiting for the cops... Ami, Ry, and I are locked in the master bathroom with both doors locked and a baseball bat.”

“Thata ’ girl! I’m almost there”

“Y/n taught me well” andi laughed tightly.

“My girl is smart, is Amelia okay?”

“She’s alright, a little scared” she said hugging her close.

“Can she hear me?”

“Can now”

“Hey baby”

“Poppa!” Ami cried.

“Hey baby I’ll be right there okay?”

“Momma?”

“Soon baby, you’re safe! Aunt Andi and Uncle Josh have you alright?”

“Tay daddy!” She sniffled

“I love you baby, so does mommy.”

“Luh ou!”

As soon as he hung up with Andi he gets a call from Y/N.

“Y/n we have a problem”

“ yeah I know, I just got a call from a lawyer!”

“What?”

“Some one is claiming to be Amelia’s grandmother and is trying to get custody.”

“Yeah well someone claiming to be her grandfather is at Andi and Josh’s trying to take her.”

“Jethro! They can’t take our baby girl!”

“Call the lawyer back. Tell him about the man. Then call our family lawyer. I’m pulling up at Andi’s , cops just got here. It’ll be okay baby, no one is taking her.”

“Please take care of her. I’m still half an hour out, call me when you’re with her.”

“I will, I love you Y/N. I’ll keep her safe.”

“I love you!” He hung up and tried his best to calm himself down, all he could focus on right now was getting to his little girl.

Next chapter

@mac99martin @kittenlittle24 @viper-official @ilovemark1951 @theofficialzivadavid @averyhotchner @andreasworlsboring101 @diesinspanishbcimhispanic

#ncis image #ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs

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willywonderfan · 2 years

Text

Willy is dead.

Willy: (sings about being alive.) It is good day to be not dead!

The Janitor: Pow! (Stabs a broom through Willy's heart.) You are dead!

Willy: I am dead! (Falls to the ground.)

The Janitor: Heh heh heh heh...

(Tito comes by, doing a dance.)

The Janitor: Oh shit. (Throws his broom away.)

(Tito sees that Willy's dead.)

Tito: (Gasp) Willy is dead.

Willy: Yes, I am dead!

Tito: Why is Willy dead!?

The Janitor: I don't know.

Willy: I think it was-

Tito and The Janitor: Shhh, You are dead!

Willy: O.K! (Goes back to being dead.)

(Knighty Knight enters)

Knighty Knight: What's up you two, (pulls his sword out.) who up for a- Gah, what the bloody hell just happened!?

Tito and The Janitor: Willy is dead.

Knighty Knight: Willy is dead!?

Tito: Correct.

(An invisible audience cheer Knighty Knight for saying the right answer.)

Tito: So, did either of you see the murderer?

Knighty Knight and The Janitor: Nope, sorry mate.

Tito: I will find him, I will capture him, and no one will ever die again!

Knighty Knight: Oh, well that's nice.

The Janitor: I'm damn proud right now!

(They both start clapping and Freddy enters the scene.)

Freddy: Ateeeennnntion! Willy is dead.

Tito: We know!

Freddy: Who killed him?

Tito: We don't know!

Freddy: I will find clues! (Starts looking around and finds The Janitor's broom.) What's that, a weapon? That thing is why Willy is dead!

Everyone else: Willy is dead!?

Freddy: Yes, he died!

Everyone else: (Gasp)

Arty from a far: Incoming!!!

Freddy: Ahhh!!!

(Freddy gets ran over by Arty's ambulance. Arty rushes out to heal Willy.)

Arty: Everyone move now! (Kisses Willy's forehead.)

(Willy starts ascending to Heaven but is pulled back to the ground because he isn't really dead.)

Arty: In my medical opinion Willy is dead!

Knighty Knight: Arty, what happened?

Arty: My professional opinion, Willy was killed!

Knighty Knight: Oh God!

Arty: I don't think it's anything to worry about.

Knighty Knight: Well, now what?

Plushtrap: Clipity clop mother fuckers!

Tito: Oh, come on...

Plushtrap: Look at this, Willy's freaking dead! What do you think of that? Uh?...

Tito: Yes, Plushtrap.

Plushtrap: Yeah?

Tito: Go home!

(Vanny waves to Plushtrap from her car.)

Plushtrap: Oh, come on! (Plushtrap enters the car to go home.) Fricking unbelievable, no seriously you all suck!

(They drive home but crashed because rats ate the car brakes.)

Plushtrap: Ahhh!!!

Tito: Okay, let's get back to the point!

(Willy starts poking his dead clone with a stick.)

Willy: I think my clone is dead!

Everyone: That was just a clone!?

Arty: (Gasp) Plushtrap, I will heal you! (He rushes to heal Plushtrap, but is blown up.)

Willy: Seriously, who killed my clone!?

(Pigpatch enters while drinking bourbon.)

Pigpatch: It was me!

Everyone: (Gasp)

Pigpatch: Yes, I did it like this.

(Pigpatch shoots Knighty Knight in the forehead.)

Knighty Knight: Ahhh!!!

Pigpatch: Woopty doo!!!

( Everyone else is staring at Knighty Knight's dead body in horror.)

Pigpatch: That's a joke lads.

(Everyone else starts laughing.)

Pigpatch: It was (burp) him! (Points to the Janitor.)

Everyone else: (Gasp)

The Janitor: How did you know!?

Pigpatch: I didn't! (Burps) that was a joke too. (Starts drinking bourbon rapidly until he dies of alcohol poisoning.) Oh, I'm dead!

The Janitor: (Laughs maniacally) That's right, it was me!

Tito: You monster!

Willy: But why!?...

The Janitor: Because you're skinny boy, and another thing you're ugly.

(The two start arguing while Tito's just wondering what's even going on anymore.)

Willy: Janitor!

The Janitor: Danm it Willy, fuck off! You are dead!

Willy: No, you! (Shoots The Janitor with Pigpatch's gun.) You are dead, not big surprise!

Tito: Well that was idiotic, I'm gonna jump off this building now. Watch and learn! (He jumps off the roof, to his death.)

Willy: I am alive, is nice. ( it pans out to show that the entire thing was a play, and that everyone's fine.)

Willy to the audience: Yes, this is stupid!

#willy's wonderland #willy weasel #tito the turtle #knighty knight #The Janitor #Arty Alligator #Fnaf #Freddy Fazbear #Plushtrap #Pigpatch #Vanny #Tf2 #Heavy is dead #Stupid

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spvce-cowboy · 3 years

Text

drivers license

francisco morales x f!reader - oneshot

rating: mature

3.1k words

warnings: drug/alcohol use, reader is a dealer, age gap, so much YEARNING!!!

summary: a surprise visit from an old friend

a/n: 100 follower celebration!! partially inspired by this post but also the fact that i have been sing-screaming “drivers license” for oh about four days straight now. thank you guys so so much for all the support so far ! 💕

A fist slamming against your front door wakes you from a dreamless sleep.

You push yourself off your mattress, blearily checking the time on your phone and cursing under your breath when you see that it’s almost 3am. You sit up all the way, blinking as you wait to see if what woke you up was something you’d imagined or if it were real.

It’s real. It starts again after a second, three sharp raps against the door, followed by some kind of muffled talking. Your heart rate picks up in your chest, you grab the baseball bat you have leaned against the wall as you reach your apartment door. Squeezing one eye shut, you look through the peephole.

The good thing is that it definitely isn’t the cops. You take a relieved breath, leaning away from the door.

The bad thing is that whoever is knocking is hunched on his knees, just outside of the peephole’s line of sight, so you have absolutely no idea who the fuck it is.

“Please open the door,” the man’s voice begs from the other side of the door. You’re about to yell at him to fuck off, but he interrupts you before you can even open your mouth. “Little flower, it’s me, please.”

The nickname makes your heart go to your throat. The bat in your hands falls to the floor.

You rub a hand over your eyes, huffing an exhale in a vague attempt to prevent your heart from ricocheting against your ribs. It doesn’t work. Because as soon as he says it, as soon as you realize who it is, it brings everything back with him.

A set of sturdy, tanned fingers cupped against the knuckles of your grandfather’s hand, the voice went low in a warm but respectful greeting. You didn’t realize how gnarled your old man’s hands had gotten until you had someone else’s to compare them to. You looked back down at the crumpled up dollar bills you’d just been handed, one of them still rolled. Turning to find your bag on the coatrack, you stuff the money in your back pocket.

“My little flower, this is a good one,” your grandfather told you with a small hum that signifies whatever he just said must be set in stone. You hear the sound of him heavily patting the hand cupped over his own in that way he does when he appreciates the presence of something. “He has a decent head on his shoulders, no?”

“Little flower?” You can hear the boyish smile in that all too familiar voice before you even turn back around. “That suits you well, I think. Florita. I like that.”

“Christ, Frankie, what are you doing here?” You rest your head against the doorframe, heart sinking in your chest. You don’t open the door, to protect him or yourself you don’t know.

“I need—”

“You’ve got a kid now, Frankie. I told you I’m not going to sell to you anymore.”

“Ever the moralist,” the bite to his words is so uncharacteristic you can’t help but flinch. He seems to realize this, too. His apology is nearly immediate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re right. I… It’s not…”

You swallow, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself for some bare semblance of comfort. “Please go,” your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he can hear you through the layer of wood separating the two of you. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that you nearly think he’s left. Long enough that you don’t know why you’re still standing at the door and not back in bed.

And Frankie says your name, voice cracking. Your actual name. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it come off his lips you can’t help sink into the door.

A held breath leaves you in a shuddering sigh. Your shaking hands open the door.

The man who spills onto the ground before you is a stranger, yet, heartbreakingly, just as he had been when you first met him. Messy hair, worn blue jeans, gray button-down stretching over the perfect expanse of his back. All that is missing this time around is that lazy smile, that easy, Hey, darling.

In a bar. Right when your grandfather started getting sick.

“Eighty,” you said without him having to continue his sentence beyond his syrupy greeting, eyes trained on the shelves of liquor in front of you instead of having to meet his gaze.

He copped an eighth, tucking the little baggie in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. You went back to your drink, angling your body away from him again and expecting him to return to his table of friends. But then the knuckles of his hand nudged the side of you elbow. He gestured to your beer, the neck of the bottle clasped between your thumb and the hook of your middle and index fingers.

“Lemme buy you your next one, yeah?” He had a hunched lean to his posture, in that way that men do when they want you to feel like you’re the only person in the room. You were mad that it worked. He extended a hand. “Frankie Morales.”

The truth of it was that the two of you became friends, after that. Nothing more. Regardless, it was too close for you to get to someone you dealt to, but you were so lonely at that point in your life—taking care of the old man by day, GED classes at night--that meeting Frankie was a small blessing. Nothing ever happened between you two but God you wish it did.

To describe what you felt towards him as a crush didn’t really cut it, but you were fine with friends. Being completely fair, he was definitely one to send mixed signals—Christ, your weekly tradition of driving to an overlook to split an order of fries and milkshakes on the hood of his truck just about screamed every romcom you were raised on. But despite the occasional prolonged touch, the hand he would place on the small of your back to move you out of the way or guide you forward, nothing happened.

You dealt with it. Tried to be supportive as possible when he met his girl. Frankie broke the news that she was pregnant. The two of you saw each other less and less frequently. Sometimes he would call to catch up. Eventually, you stopped answering when he did. Your grandfather died. You got into a local art school.

It was sad how quietly it all faded. You didn’t know it could, but it did.

And now here he is, literally crumpled at your feet.

Frankie messily pulls himself up off the ground and onto his knees. He reeks of booze and old cigarettes. You freeze as his hands wrap over your hips, as he presses his face into your stomach and murmurs an incoherent apology—for what, you’re not exactly sure.

And when you finally processing what’s happening, what you had begged the universe for years, you can’t help yourself. Your card your fingers through his hair, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Frankie,” it’s a warning. It’s a reminder. “You’re drunk. You need to go home. Your girlfriend--”

“She left a week ago,” he speaks into the fabric covering your belly. The words burst forwards as if not even he was expecting to say them. It’s a confession. His hands flex from where they hold onto you. “She’s gone.” Your heart drops to your gut, your chest aching. “I need… Just for the night I… Little flower, the house is so empty.”

You keep petting back his hair until his breathing quiets. He keeps holding onto you, even then. The two of you stay like that for a long time.

“Why don’t,” your voice comes out too shaky. Too unsure of itself. You clear your throat and try again. “Why don’t you take a shower, I’ll get you some water and we can sober you up a bit. Okay?”

He tilts his face up at you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in well over a year.

And he hasn’t changed. It’s all there—the soft mess of shaggy hair, dark but kind eyes, the beloved hook of his nose.

One sun-sick evening, you rode your bike to the beach just to get out of the apartment. You need somewhere to sit and think for a while, just until your head feels more clear. There’s enough of a chill in the air that you have to throw on a jacket, it’s nice. It’s like you can feel the wind moving through you. Past you.

When you arrived at the beach, you got off your bike, leaning it against your hip as you scoped out a spot to sit in the sand. You were about to wheel it over to the rack when--

Someone pinched your elbow in greeting. Their steps were so quiet you didn’t even register their approach. It, obviously, startled you, and your hand immediately flew to the keychain in your back pocket. The knife you had attached to it.

When you turned, and it was Frankie’s familiar face, his hands raised in joking surrender.

In that light, with the sun still flirting with the horizon, it rendered his face into shapes and shadows you had only previously seen in the old oil paintings of long-dead greats. You thought it was in the deep bourbon of his eyes, soft when illuminated by a tangerine sky. It was him. All of him. Slightly breathless, hair ruffled by the wind.

“Hey, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. You released a relieved huff of air.

“Fucking Christ, Frankie. A little warning would be nice next time.”

“Did you bike the whole way here? From the apartment?” He asked, there was a tinge of concern to his voice.

You shrugged, trying to hide your embarrassment by lowering your kickstand with the heel of you boot. “It’s not that far.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” you wrinkle your nose. “Never needed to.”

He looked you for a moment, if you didn’t know any better you’d say critically.

“I was just about to get something to eat, if you wanna join me,” he tucked his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “There’s this overlook nearby that has a way better view of all of this.” He motions to the ocean with the tilt of his head. “I can drive us there.”

You regarded him as he spoke, cautiously looking him up and down. And you nodded, smiling slightly. He smiled back, it was big and crooked. It made something in the pit of your belly feel warm.

You step away, holding out your hand to help him to his feet. He complies, stumbling slightly and rubbing his hand over his face as he does so. He disappears down the hall without having to ask where the bathroom is.

Sighing, you go back into your room, pulling out a shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants for him to change into. You knock on the bathroom door on your way to the kitchen. The apartment’s walls are so thin you can hear the hiss of the shower from all the way down the hall.

“Come in,” Frankie’s voice barely rises above the sound.

You crack the door open, keeping your eyes trained to the floor as you place the folded clothes on the sink’s counter.

“Here’s something for you to change into,” you tell him. He thanks you, the shower turning off right as you close the door behind you. You walk back down the hall and into the living room, making two glasses of water before settling on your couch.

Once, after a night out, the two of you were too drunk and too broke to afford separate taxis home. He proposed going back to his house, split the cost, grab a cab for you once it wasn’t so late and the rates went down.

You agreed, as you did anytime he extended the offer to spend time there. There was something about the quiet, tucked-in nature of the suburbs that was so novel to you. So calming.

The two of you settled on the couch. Feeling bold, you lay your head in his lap and kicked your socked feet up on the opposite armrest as you describe to him the gallery opening you’d snuck into. How you successfully schmoozed to the owner as well as one of the artists.

He asked you if you had heard back from any of the scholarships you’d applied to. You hadn’t, but you’d only just submitted the applications, so it would be at least a few months wait.

You tell him your dreams of becoming an artist. A real one. He already knew that, but you really tell him this time, all the details you usually keep to yourself, too special to you to have the courage to voice aloud. The fantasy of moving out into the mountains, getting a cabin just big enough for a hotplate and a bed and a studio. You’ve lived and breathed LA for your entire life and you were tired of the city. Tired of every street corner baked with the memories of high school and the listless years that followed, of the small humiliations you had to succumb to in order to survive.

Frankie listened and nodded enthusiastically at all the right parts. It was only then that you realized his hands smoothed over the top of your scalp as you talked. You let it continue, it felt too nice not to.

He told you that you should, and if you needed help finding the money he could always--

You cut him off before he could finish the thought, shaking your head. Responsibilities came first, you had people who needed you. A degree to finish. Savings to maintain. You asked him about the new girl he’d been seeing and he eagerly launches into a story about a different, wild night out. You smile and laugh throughout the whole thing, trying to ignore the pang it gives you when he describes the dress she was wearing. He fingers continued to brush over the crown of your head as he talked.

You fell asleep there, on his lap. You woke up before the sun rose, hot and sweaty and still a little drunk from the vodka Redbulls that never agreed well with your heart.

It took you a second to realize you were in Frankie’s bed, alone. When you padded back into the living room, he was passed out on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders, using his arm as a pillow.

You left after helping yourself to a shower, texting him a sarcastic good luck with that hangover. You’re about to call a taxi home but something stopped you. You thought it might be the way the sun was barely breaking over the cusp of the smoggy horizon, the sky reduced to pale shades of violet with the coming dawn.

The quiet neighborhood Frankie lived in is all the more beautiful, like this. Subdued, empty, houses in winding but even rows that scale up the mountainside like sets of bad teeth. You decided to walk, just until the sun got a little brighter. Until the people started to shake themselves awake for a new day.

You got a text from him as you were making breakfast, back at your apartment by then. Thanks. Hope you slept well, little flower. Something about the small missive kept you smiling the whole day after.

You mess with your phone until Frankie returns.

“I’m sorry, for showing up like this,” Frankie says as he hovers over the living room’s threshold. The clothes you leant him fit well enough, only slightly oversized on his frame as opposed to how they generously drape off of you. He holds his towel in his hands, looking down at it instead of you. “I honestly don’t have an excuse and you… you shouldn’t accept any. But I thought I should still tell you.”

You look at him for an extended beat, knowing he’s being honest. You’re at a genuine loss as to how to handle the situation.

“We can deal with it later,” you settle with that. It sounds good enough to you, and when he finally meets your eyes again he looks a little relieved. You nod you head towards the glass of water you placed on the coffee table, he takes your lead and settles on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over to take his own glass.

“So um… how are you?” He asks you earnestly, angling his body towards you.

“Okay,” you take a sip of water, trying to keep it casual. “Cleaning up my act a bit, you know? Going to school, picking up jobs here and there. Trying to figure out what I want to do. Oh! I uh… I learned how to drive--impressive I know.”

“The city flower herself, operating a vehicle?” His face breaks into a familiar, goofy smile you can’t help but reciprocate. “I’ll add every pedestrian in LA to my prayers.”

“You should,” you shake your head as you laugh, leaning into your corner of the couch and pulling your knees up to your chest. You finally relax, giving yourself the small allowance of settling into the comfort that inevitably comes with his presence.

And it really is just as easy as it always has been between the two of you. The conversation naturally ebbs and flows, neither of you bother to broach the heavier stuff. For now, just this it’s enough.

It’s enough to see the spark in his eyes when he tells you about his daughter, how bright she is, how much trouble she gets into—just like her dad. It’s enough to hear about his friends, all those names and backstories that you still vividly remember. It’s enough to bask in the feeling of how he leans into you with laughter, a hand lingering on your knee for seconds longer than it probably should have, as he always tends to do.

It’s enough to see him grin when you tell him about the scholarships you got, how weird it felt being the oldest person in all your classes, even if it was only by a handful of years. He doesn’t ask how your grandfather is, the living room being cleared of all the heart monitors and breathing machines is enough to answer that question. You’re grateful he doesn’t. You’re not sure you’d be able to keep a brave face if he did.

You don’t want time to pass. You want to stay here, with him, like this, in that perpetual state of catching up, in that breathless deluge that has the not-so-subtle undercurrent of this is what has happened since you left. I wish you would have been there. But I am so happy you are here now.

When you can no longer stifle your yawns, you stand to refill your glass of water, speaking on your walk over to the sink.

“I’d love to keep talking but I honestly don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer,” you tell him as you turn the tap off. “I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you turn to look back at him. He’s staring at you from where he is seated, eyes dark with something that isn’t just from the low light of the living room.

“What?” You ask after a few more seconds of him not responding. He looks away from you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Your eyes search his for a moment, positive that that was not at all what he was turning over in his head during those few seconds of silence. You’re too tired to press, so you gather a spare set of sheets for him. He stands when you come back into the living room, holding out his arms to take them from you. You wave him away, setting up the pull-out bed yourself. You’d grown up sleeping on this thing, tucking the fitted sheet into the corners was always tricky, and he didn’t know where the bolts of the couch’s frame would cut the shit out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

Throwing a pillow down, you turn back to Frankie. He’s standing closer to you, now. You have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“All set,” you tell him. He nods, eyes searching your face for a moment. Your brow furrows. “Frankie, you’re being weird. Stop it.”

His chuckle breaks the tension.

“Sorry—I’ve been saying that a lot tonight, haven’t I?” He takes a deep breath. You’re smiling again, about to agree with him, and without warning his hand is comes up to cup the side of your face. You still, lips parted in an unasked question. “Thank you, little flower,” his voice goes rough again, as it had when you were speaking to each other through the door. “I really mean it.”

Frankie’s hand drops when you nod, lips pressed together. He sits back down on the pull-out. You wish him goodnight quietly and return to your room.

Leaving your bedroom door cracked open, you climb back into bed. With everything in you, you hope he’s still there when you wake. He will be.

#francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #reader insert #triple frontier #angst #hurt/comfort

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