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dirtbag-linecook-kyloren · 2 months

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@akwardtractor and I came up with a few other AUs while we were working on August for the big bang, and one of them keeps haunting me, so while I won't get to write it until probably mid-next year, have a small drabble that started as a warm up and then sprawled a bit. It's unbeta'd and maybe a little over wordy, but I'm charmed by it enough to share.

Armitage comes to consciousness as he comes to many things: slowly and with great intent. The blanket is warm, as is the arm around his waist. He teeters on the edge of asleep and awake for a moment, forced to make a difficult decision. Is he ready to face the day? Is he ready to leave the comfort and safety of Ben’s bed?

Ben’s hold on him tightens, his face pressing into the space between Armitage’s shoulder blades. Besides the movement and a soft, incomprehensible grumble, it’s impossible to tell Ben is awake. His instinct could simply be to keep Armitage close. If their pattern from the last few nights holds over, Ben woke up an hour ago, and has simply stayed still so he didn’t disturb Armitage. Following this assumption, he’s certainly cognizant enough to talk to.

“I want pancakes, after,” Armitage mumbles, turning into the pillow. It smells like Ben, and also like it needs to be washed. Armitage is disgusted as he takes a deep inhale, but he also does his best to memorize the scent, stale sweat and all.

His tendons stretch as he flexes his ankles, pointing his feet, but Armitage does his best to stretch his legs out while staying firmly in Ben’s tight grip.

“Pancakes and a milkshake,” he amends.

On his fridge, held up by a magnet and written on the back of a grocery store receipt, a long list of the foods he’ll be able to eat in six hours waits, ready for each entry to be checked off one by one. Some of the items are already in the pantry, purchased on the same trip to the store that spawned the list. Armitage hasn’t had a cosmic brownie in ten years, and he’s hopeful their reality lives up to his memory.

Ben assures him they’re still delicious, but Ben also eats mayonnaise, so Armitage is skeptical.

All Armitage gets in answer to his request is a groan. He decides to interpret this as assent. They’ll go to the nearest 24-hour diner and slide into a booth. The fabric of Ben’s hoodie will still be warm when he steals it, and they’ll lean across the table towards each other as they argue about Ben’s opinions about the Silmarillion for the hundredth time. The last few hours will be forgotten for just a moment, the last ten years. He’ll stretch out his ankles, foam roll his quads, and sleep.

First, Armitage has one last performance schedule. Leaning back into Ben’s hold, he soaks up the contact, revels in how Ben’s hand shifts down his stomach, and god, the temptation is there, but Armitage has to be patient, has to save that for after. When he can come home, slide out of his dance belt, and perhaps burn it.

“I have to get up.” Another, louder groan. “Ben, I have to get ready.” His eyes flick to the clock. He’s already stayed in bed too long. While he was offered the small grace of skipping company class before rehearsal, it’s best to finish strong. If this is the last show day he’ll ever have, missing any part of it seems wasteful. And who will lift Rey if not him? His understudy? Absolutely not. Armitage didn’t spend a year drinking lemon grass and ginger shots and stretching for three hours a day to lose to a child.

“Ben.”

One last groan as the grip loosens, and Armitage is able to climb from the sheets. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stretches his hands up toward the ceiling, feeling as the tendons in his elbow stretch, as his shoulders wake up. He leans side to side, pleased to find the twinge in his back has quieted.

Standing, he turns back to Ben in bed.

“Give me your shirt.”

Ben cracks one eye open and attempts a glare, but he still shifts under the blanket, pulling off his shift and holding it out for Armitage to take. It’s not a hoodie, but it’s a fine enough stand-in until later, and he slides it on, well-worn fabric soft against his skin. Looking down, Armitage finds out he’s wearing merch from the band Ben had in college, the screen printing cracked and faded with age. Rey will make fun of him, but she set them up. This is all her fault.

“I’m going to use the blender,” Armitage tells Ben. “This is your five minute warning.”

Though he’s sure most of it is pseudoscience, Armitage has been eating disgusting superfood smoothies for the last few months to limp along through his joint issues. It’s helped, if even only through placebo, but Armitage is pleased to make this his last one. His fifteen supplements are in a line on Ben’s counter, and Armitage shuffles through them, trying to decide which ones he can skip to get even an attempt at a passable flavor today. The turmeric will have to stay, and the Omega-3s, but perhaps -

Superstition grips him. If he leaves something else and fails a lift, it will haunt him for the rest of his life. Far better to stomach one last terrible beverage, choke down the dry, gritty texture.

The blender blares, breaking the silence of the morning, and Armitage startles as arms wrap around his waist, as lips press soft kisses into his neck. Against his better judgment, Armitage tilts his head to give Ben better access, and in response, Ben’s tongue runs along the stretched tendon.

Armitage stops the blender when Ben’s hand toys with the waistband of his boxers.

“I can’t -”

Ben’s chest moves as he laughs.

“I know,” he huffs, lips moving to continue their work behind Armitage’s ear. “But there are other things.”

‘Other things’ is a long list. Armitage doesn’t have the time to fuck Ben, and surely Ben knows that. His hand slides into Armitage’s underwear, fingers toying with the edge of his pubes. Slowly, Armitage’s dick is becoming interested in the events at hand, a list of options running through his head that all sound equally appealing. Ben on his knees, Ben’s hand, Ben on his knees, Ben’s mouth, Armitage’s cock in Ben’s mouth.

Ben steps back, his hand going with him. Armitage leans into the counter with a whine, pressing himself against the countertop in a feeble attempt at friction.

“That was cruel,” he bites, grabbing the blender. “I’ll remember this.”

When he finally faces Ben, that stupid smirk is still on his lips.

“Drink your smoothie,” Ben says. “I’m giving you something to look forward to after you choke that thing down.”

Armitage grabs a glass from the cabinet. He can work with after.

#kylux #kylux au #my writing #man i should really start keeping that tag updated so I can find all these drabbles

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peachybun-bun · 3 years

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More Than One Night [pt 4]

pairing; Na Jaemin x f reader

genre; fluff, comedy, smut

notes/warnings; mention of eating, alcohol, Dreamies are roomies as usual. there was a brief insinuation of a bet where money is exchanged. semi-guided masturbation (female/male), unprotected sex, talk of kinks, sir kink, slight dom insinuation, sex health talk.

work count; 3.7k and some change (if you care about this)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

You had thought about Na Jaemin of course, but after the first day you wondered if he had really been interested, or if you had been simply a one night stand. Not that it was a bad thing, it was one hell of a one night stand. Still, you kinda felt like there had been something there. You had considered being the first one to text, but something in your gut told you to wait, so you did.

Three days had passed. You had all but given up as you sat on your couch, sulking into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, when your phone’s text message tone went off next to you on the couch. You figured it was your best friend. The two of you had been discussing what the next move was, and you had decided to skip out on the bar hopping. The best plan of action was ice cream, sweat pants, and cheesy rom coms far too early in the morning.

Sliding your finger over the unlock, your eyes widens when you see the name. You almost lose your pint of ice cream to the floor, with how quickly you sit up, but manage to correct yourself. You sit it to the side, so you can see what Jaemin has sent you. It had been 3 days since you spoke to him, since he had brought you home in his car.

Jaemin: Hey. I really enjoyed the other night but the company for breakfast was better. Would you like to get coffee and spend the day with me? If you aren’t busy of course. [7:45 am]

Staring for just a moment, you type a response, delete it, type another, and delete it again, before just sitting there. Of course you wanted to accept and go out, but you would need time. You hadn’t showered in a day, and you didn’t want to scare him off by going out in sweats.

Jaemin watched the three dots pop up, and then vanish with a frown as he sat between Mark and Renjun now. The other two boys frowned, watching them disappear, making eye contact unsure what to do, until they heard the sound of a message come through.

Y/N: Of course. That sounds wonderful actually. Want me to meet you somewhere in particular? [7:50 am]

Mark lets out a breath first and nods, patting Jaemin’s head, before sliding away giving him space.

Renjun stays where he is, too interested in the action unfolding next to him. Jaemin simply raises a brow and pushes him with his elbow. “No way...I sat around for 3 days waiting for this. Answer her, jackass.”

Jaemin groans at Renjun's voice, and sighs as he types out his response, a smile spreading across his face.

Jaemin: Can I pick you up? It’s a surprise. [7:51 am]

Y/N: Sure. Give me an hour to get ready? [7:52 am]

Jaemin: Of course. I’ll see you soon. [7:54 am]

Jaemin grins and slides his phone into his hoodie jacket, before looking at Renjun who ruffles his hair. “Go get her, tiger.”

An hour later, you found yourself looking much more presentable. You hadn’t dressed up per se, but you didn’t look like a girl from a heartbreak movie stuffing her face with ice cream anymore. Slipping on your jacket and shoes just in time as the doorbell rang, you glance behind you, hoping you had picked up enough stuff, before opening the door and smiling as you see Jaemin.

Was it possible he looked even better after 3 days? God, he still smelled amazing. You really needed to figure out what it was he wore, for complete research purposes of course. “Hey there.”

He grins at you, and you can’t help but feel as your knees almost go weak. You keep yourself steady, pushing your hair behind your ear and grabbing your bag. “Hello, yourself. I wasn’t sure you were going to text me...but I’m glad you did.”

He tilts his head to your words and offers you his hand, which you take. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I promise I’ll explain before the end of the day.”

You laugh at the answer but nod. “Alright...so where are we going?”

Jaemin couldn’t stop looking over at you. You were stunning, even more so than when he had met you in the bar. Casual clothes were your style. You looked trendy, but you weren’t trying too hard because you didn’t need to. His eyes wanted to drink in every inch of you, but he kept his place as his fingers laced with yours, leading you outside to his car. “There is a coffee shop I really love. It’s a little hole in the wall I usually like to keep to myself, but I’m willing to share my secrets with you, if you can keep the secret yourself.”

You laugh and slide into his car as he opens the door. Once he was behind the wheel, you nod and put on your seatbelt. “I can keep a secret if it means I get to know more about you. Who are you hiding this shop from?”

Jaemin laughs and nods as he puts the car into gear, turning you in the direction of the shop. “Everyone...specifically my friends. Only Jeno knows where this place is, and he knows better than to tell the others. I like having my space from them sometimes.”

That made complete sense. You remembered they had grown up together basically, so it was only logically for him to need some separation. “Well, cross my heart, your secret coffee shop is safe with me.”

Jaemin smiles and reaches his hand over to squeeze above your knee softly, “Perfect...you look beautiful by the way.”

Your cheeks flush lightly. You glance at his hand on your knee and take a breath. “Thank you, you look pretty handsome today yourself, sir.”

He laughs, sucking in his bottom lip, raising a brow when you call him sir. He knew you hadn’t meant it in a sexual way, but it had an effect coming off your lips. “Careful...I might enjoy you calling me that too much.”

A laugh escapes your lips, and you raise your brows. “I’m sorry, do you have a sir kink?”

Jaemin laughs, showing off his perfect teeth. You can’t help but smile at his reaction. Narrowing his eyes playfully, letting his teeth run over his bottom lip as he glances at you, he shrugs and looks back at the road. “How about we keep the kink talk for a little later this evening, because I have several questions for you in that department.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, your eyes widening a bit as you look back to the road. “Well, I will look forward to that conversation later then.”

Jaemin smirks and winks at you, letting his hand squeeze your knee once more, before he puts both hands back on the wheel to turn into the alley and find a parking spot. You look up to see the sign, but it was so faded you couldn’t make out more than Bean... and was that Bag?

Jaemin gets out, waiting for you to join him, and offers you his hand as soon as you are close enough. “I’m going to be honest, Jaemin. Place looks a little sketchy.”

Laughing, Jaemin scratches the back of his neck as he leads you towards the building and inside. “It’s not, I promise.”

The bell above the door announces your entrance. You glance around, pleasantly surprised by how different the inside was compared to the outside. Inside was warm, smelled delicious as expected of any coffee shop, and most importantly there were only a few patrons. Jaemin smiles watching you take in a deep breath. “I know...wait till you taste their coffee.”

With your two Americanos, along with the largest muffin you had ever seen, Jaemin leads you to what he explains is his favorite spot. Next to the window is an oversized chair that he usually sits in alone, today he shares with you. He was right, the coffee was some of the best you have had, and the muffin was more than enough to share. Jaemin breaks off bits of the muffin to hand to you to eat, but after a while just offers for you to take from his fingers.

After an hour or so of family discussion, learning more about his friends and your friends, he threw away the rest of the muffin and the garbage. He waves to the shop owner, before leading you back out to the car. “Do you want some actual food? We can take some corn dogs home.”

Smiling, you nod as he opens the passenger's side door for you this time, letting you slip into your seat, before taking his own. You could get used to this. You weren’t sure what it was yet, but you liked it.

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

Jaemin’s foot opens the door as he holds the large box of corn dogs, letting you slip past him. A bag of cider, cola, and soju is in your hand as you glance around the entrance way. You hadn’t been sure you’d be back in this house, but here you were.

It was much louder during the day, than the night you had slipped in with Jaemin. He winks at you as he kicks his shoes off, and gestures to you to go on in. You had to admit, even though you had met all of his roommates, you still weren’t sure how they felt about you, or you just barging into their living space. “With you…”

Jaemin smiles at your words and nods, putting his free arm around your shoulders. He balances the box of food on his hand as he walks you into the house, glancing into the living room and finding everyone besides Jisung. “Where is Jisung?”

Mark glances up, noticing the food first, then you with a grin. “At that concert. Hey, Y/N! Good to see you again. Let me get that.” He takes the drinks from you, and Jeno takes the box of food out of Jaemin’s hands, opening it on the coffee table with a grin.

“Don’t eat all of them. Save some for us.”

Jeno nods, already grabbing one coated in sugar and taking a big bite, before waving at you with a string of cheese hanging from his mouth. You can’t help but smile while shaking your head.

Jaemin was more surprised than you at how easily you seemed to fit in after less than an hour. He had his arm around your waist, his fingers lazily playing with your shirt over your stomach as your hand rested on his leg.

Jeno watched curiously, amused with how quickly it seemed that Jaemin was able to treat you like this. He knew his friend was guarded, but with you it was like you had always been there. He felt a pang of jealousy, before turning away taking a shot of soju, his attention back on the movie.

You relax against Jaemin, enjoying the feel of his fingers brushing against your skin as his fingers trail under the cotton of your shirt. A smile on your face, you glance at him as he gives you a sly look, gesturing his eyes behind the couch towards his room. As you nod, he smiles and slides his arm from you, before standing taking your hand.

Renjun looked up at you two with a smirk, not saying anything. Chenle was less subtle, laughing and putting his hand out to Mark, who put a bill into his hand.

Jaemin kicks Chenle’s leg out of the way with a scoff, before leading you away from his friends, down the hall and into his room. He lets the door close, behind you both with a soft click, as he locks the door. You sit on his bed stretching a bit, your cheeks a bit flushed from having watched the interaction between his friends as you two had decided to have some time alone from them.

Watching you carefully, Jaemin smiles a bit just standing there, before you give him a look and laugh. “What is it?”

He laughs and crawls on the bed behind you, pulling you too him to hold you closely. Your leg drapes over his, your knee resting between his legs. “Nothing...ready to have that talk?”

If you had thought your cheeks were flushed before, now they were bright pink. Jaemin laughs, watching it happen, before leaning to press a kiss to each cheek. “We don’t have to talk about it…”

You shake your head at his words and smile. “No, we can. It’s probably actually important if we are going to do this right?”

Jaemin nods in agreement as his fingers slide down your arm and over to your waist, where his fingers claim your skin again, tracing small shapes causing you to draw in a breath.

“I already know you have a thing about being called sir.”

Jaemin laughs at your statement, and bites his bottom lip, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but yeah it’s pretty hot. I know you can listen...seems like you like a little direction.”

You suck in a breath again as his finger slides along the waistband of your jeans. You nod, as your eyes close to the feel of his fingers against your hip. “I do...and you liked to tell me what to do, so that seemed to work out.”

Jaemin grins and nods as his fingers find the button of your jeans, working it open. “I did. I do. Now to the important boring stuff...I’m clean, I get tested frequently.”

You gasp as his fingers slide down your zipper, the pad of his fingers pressing against your lower abdomen over the top of your panties, as he waits for you to speak. “I am too...and I’m on birth control.”

He grins at that knowledge, sliding his fingers into your panties and over your folds, causing you to gasp. “That’s good, I’ll still use a condom if you want me to.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to, as long as we are safe.” Your eyes finding him as his index finger circles your clit in a tight motion.

Jaemin leans to press a kiss to your lips, using his body to put you on your back, his fingers never leaving you. “I don’t know what I want this to be...but I don’t want you with anyone else. Is that okay?”

You moan, lifting your lips towards his finger, as his other hand works your jeans down with gentle tugs. “Yes...I don’t want you with anyone either. You are all I could think about.”

Grinning, Jaemin kisses your jaw, before pulling back his face and hand, so that he can undress you more efficiently. “I couldn’t get you off my mind. I’m sorry I took so long, but 3 days is good luck. I wanted this to work.”

You laugh a bit, still not understanding. Your laugh is cut off as your shirt is removed over your head, and Jaemin’s mouth is gently nipping at your skin over your bra. “Why 3 days?”

Running his tongue over lace, he looks up to meet your eyes, before slipping his hands behind your back and unclasping your bra, so he can pull it from you. “3 is my favorite number, it’s never failed me. I had to wait exactly 3 days, but it almost drove me crazy. All I could think about was getting you back here, and back in my bed. I wanted my mouth all over you, to taste you.”

You moan his name softly, running your fingers through his soft hair as his tongue circles your nipple, causing your back to arch. “I wanted that so much, Jaemin…”

He groans against your skin, hearing his name on your lips. “What did you do when you thought about me?”

You smile at his question, lifting your hips as he slides your panties down, his mouth breaking from your breast. You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, eyes watching you full of lust. “Show me what you did.”

Jaemin slides off the bed, and you do as he asks, sliding your hand down your stomach as you spread your legs. Fingers dip towards your entrance, past your folds, his eyes following your hand intently as he works his jeans and boxers down.

Pressing your middle finger into your core, you moan and close your eyes, arching your back off his bed. You had done this several times in the past days while you waited for him to call. All you could think about was the night you two had shared, and how much you hadn’t wanted to leave his bed.

Groaning as he runs his hand over his mouth, his other hand gripping his length, Jaemin strokes himself a few times, watching as your finger gently dips into and out of your wet pussy. You were so beautiful, and now he could say you were his. “That’s so good. When you were touching yourself at home, did you think about how I made you moan my name so much that you could barely speak the next morning?”

Moaning to his words and the thought, you slip a second finger past your folds and nod, “Yes, sir…”

Jaemin thrusts into his hand when you call him sir, a louder groan crossing his lips. Your eyes finding his hand wrapped around his cock, you bite your bottom lip, before moving your gaze to his eyes. He shakes his head and runs his free hand through his hair, “You have no idea what you do to me...let me taste those fingers, baby.”

Sliding your fingers from between your legs, you hold up your hand as Jaemin kneels on the bed between your legs to take your wrist. His eyes on yours as he sucks your fingers into his mouth, licking your fingers clean with a groan. Pulling his head back, he licks his lips and leans to press his lips to yours in an eager kiss.

Your hands slide up into his hair, keeping him close, until he grabs your wrists and pins your hands above your head, looking down at you. “I want to take my time with you, but all I think about is getting inside of you.”

You flush at his words, lifting your hips towards him, wanting the same thing. Jaemin’s lips move to press at your throat, causing you to press your head back into the pillows, as your nails gently make half moon indentations in your palms as he keeps your hands from him.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever let you leave, baby...just leave you in my bed and worship you like this every single moment of every day. Does that sound good?”

You moan as you feel his knee press your legs further open. You help him, lifting your leg to wrap around his hip. Jaemin moves both of your wrists to one hand, moving his free one to grip his shaft, putting his head at your entrance as he waits for your answer.

Nodding, you look up at him now that you can see his face again. “Yes, sir...I never want to leave. I want you all the time. God please...Jaemin.”

He smiles as you all but beg for him to thrust into you. He doesn’t keep you waiting, as he shifts and slides his cock into you slowly. A groan falling from his lips, that is silenced as his mouth hits your neck again. His free hand grips at your hip, as his hand on your wrists keeps them held tightly.

Moving his lips to your ear, he lowers his voice, speaking in whispers as his hips begin to move in a deep steady rhythm. “You feel so good...you’re perfect.”

You whine into a moan, feeling your skin chill as his voice vibrates against your ear, causing chill bumps to spread over your skin. You can’t help but to dig your heel into his hip, pulling him closer to you, as your hips rise to meet each of his thrusts. He was right, it felt so good. You could feel pressure building as he arched his hips and began to thrust harder, hitting you just right. “Jaemin...oh my god.”

A smirk on his lips, he loved hearing that desperation on your lips. God, he loved the way you sounded as your walls closed around him, your orgasm causing his thrusts to become all that more urgent. Jaemin groans loudly, before moving his lips back to yours, biting at your bottom lip to the point that it was throbbing softly into the kiss.

You hear a strained moan escape into the kiss as Jaemin cums into you, slowly coming to a stop to lay on top of you. His hand on your wrist releases your hands, which immediately move to grip at him, one finding his hair and pulling his face closer as you deepen the kiss. Your other hand scratches lightly at his waist, as his hips lazily thrust one last time.

After a moment, Jaemin slides from you and turns to lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling with a grin. You laugh softly to yourself, before turning to press a kiss to his chest, working soft kisses up to his lips, causing him to laugh in return as his hand slides over your back. “I really could get used to this, you know?”

You pull back from the kiss to look at him as he speaks. Shaking your head, you smile and run your fingers over his cheek, before kissing the tip of his nose. “I could too. I can tell you that I can’t wait to get to know you even better, and see where this goes, because no one else has had me this head over heels after making me sit around for 3 days.”

Jaemin laughs and closes his eyes, groaning, before running a hand over his face, knowing he wasn’t going to live down his 3 day rule. “I promise I will make it up to every single day if I have to.”

You smile and nod, “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Jaemin grins and pushes your hair behind your ear, knowing he’d be happy to keep that promise if it was you.

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333sth · 3 years

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dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl.

rating: mature wc: 1.8k

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?”

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs.

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name.

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact.

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.”

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince.

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company.

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long.

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!”

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder, “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x ofc #dove #Santiago Garcia #Benny Miller #Will Miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fic #francisco morales #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

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Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

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Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

#my writing #going back home #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #frankie morales fanfiction

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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

here is the second last part besties wahhh I'm so sad its coming to an end!! I'm also so sorry about this part, it'll break a few hearts :'( Love always, Steph xx

Part 11 | parte undicesima

warnings; heartbreak, swearing & angst - i'm sorry in advance. word count; 2185 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. final update; Wednesday 18/08 5pm AEST. tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

A few days had passed since the Villa match and Amelia had heard from Jack when he returned to Birmingham. He sent her a simple text to let her know he made it home. That’s it. The two went from previously not going more than 24 hours between FaceTimes or calls or memes to a simple made it home a few hours ago, thanks for a good time x.

No “speak soon”, no promise of a FaceTime , no double kiss at the end of the text that would have typically been there otherwise. If anything, she was more mad that he made her feel like a side piece; like one of his instagram girls that she knew he entertained throughout the week. Amelia knew that she, for lack of better terms, fucked up. She fucked up their friendship, and was praying to all of the Gods that would listen to help her not fuck things up with Ben, too. However, the fact that she didn’t go to church as often as she should have is probably the reason that Ben refused to make eye contact with the girl. It was either that or…he already knew.

“Benj, hey, wait up.” She called as he walked out to his car after a particularly long day at Cobham.

“Don’t call me Benj,” he coldly stated without turning around, continuing his stride.

“Okay fine, Chilly. Wait up will you!”

“Don’t call me Chilly either, that's reserved for friends.”

“Okay, if I can’t call you Benj, or Chilly, what can I call you?”

“The best mate of the guy you fucked multiple times on Saturday night” He spat out at her, as he finally turned around, ready to see the shocked look cast over Amelia’s face as she stood a couple feet away from him. He wasn’t expecting to see Mason at his car, just across the way or Jorgi at his, a few cars down. But they were there and it didn’t matter; they were going to find out sooner or later, anyway.

“He told you.”

“He told the group chat, Amelia. The fucking group chat! How does that make you feel? He’s already bragging about it. Your bed isn't even cold yet! It probably doesn’t bother you that much though - you’re just like him.”

“He fucked you when he knew exactly how I felt about you, having gone to him for advice as to how to apologise to you. I called him on Friday after I left your house and gushed to him like a bloody little girl because I was so happy you forgave me, and that we had kissed. And then, just like that, you let him weasel his way between your legs.”

“I know I should be taking this out on him, and I will don’t worry, but you knew what you were doing also. You knew exactly how I felt about you. I was ready to commit to you that night and you said you wanted to be friends, that you needed time to heal or whatever. So I hope you’re happy and are healing, because I take it all back.” With that, Ben turned around and got in his car, driving away from the girl who felt remorse worse than she ever has in her life.

Witnessing the whole exchange, Jorgi gave Mason a nod to say “go check on Ben, I’ll look after Amelia” and walked up to the girl from behind. Without scaring her, he firmly grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her to his chest where she let go of all of the emotions she had been keeping inside. With every stab of the knife that was Ben’s words, she felt herself becoming more vulnerable and exposed than ever before. She refused to let him see her cry. That wasn’t something she was willing to let anyone see; she didn’t realise all she had been holding together until she no longer had to, until she had the physical support of Jorgi holding her up in the middle of the training ground car park.

Ushering her to his car - she could collect her own another day - Jorgi put her inside before any other first team members - or worse, staff members - could see the distraught girl and drove them both back to her place where he spent the rest of the evening comforting the girl and letting her know she wasn’t alone. He had even made a desperate call to Fede, asking for advice on how to cheer the girl up. Of course, her Italian ex-lover had been worried the moment his national teammate had told him that the girl was inconsolable and was just about ready to board a flight to her, but Jorgi had calmed him down too. Fede’s advice of coffee, warm pyjamas and clean sheets had done the trick of putting the girl to sleep for the night.

The next few days had come and gone, and the two heartbroken almost-lovers were back to the beginning - Ben ignoring Amelia and Amelia trying to get Ben in a room. But it wasn’t to be. Towards the end of the week, Amelia had received a phone call from Mr Mancini, formally inviting her back to the Italian National Team staff for the upcoming friendly matches and preparation for the 2022 World Cup. Without any hesitation, she accepted her role and began to prepare the necessary procedures that would need to be implemented or maintained during her time away with the Italian side.

Sharing the news with her fellow Italians, Jorgi and Emerson, she decided that she wanted to be the one to tell Ben. She wanted him to know, whether he cared or not, that she wasn’t running away from him and that she would see him soon.

“Chilwell, please stay behind after the session.” She decided it was best if she requested it in the company of the rest of the first team and also the staff members. She was being selfish but she didn’t want him to run away from her again.

He remained sat in his seat as the rest of the team and professional staff left for the evening. Arms crossed, slouched down, looking at everything else in the room but the girl who was nervously wringing her hands together.

“I’m leaving for international duties tomorrow morning.” With that sentence, he stopped tapping his left leg and looking at the cornice details. Instead, his attention was focused on her.

“But we don’t break up for internationals for another week.”

“I know, but Mancini has requested I come earlier to settle back into things over there.”

“It’s only an hour flight away, how difficult could it be?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me go.”

Silence. Ben didn’t have an answer for her. Of course he didn’t want to see her around Cobham on the day-to-day basis they currently had to endure, but that doesn’t mean he wants her to go back to Italy. Even if it was only for a couple of weeks. Especially if it meant she was around Fede again.

“Well, much to your dismay I'll be back here in 3 weeks. And, Italy are playing England in the last friendly match of the break.”

With a slight nod of his head, Amelia presumed that their conversation was done with. She turned to gather her paperwork and heard the chairs behind her move, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. She sighed into her hands. How did she let this happen? She preached to Ben how much she didn’t want to be selfish with his heart, and that's exactly what she did. But hey, it takes two to tango. Deciding there was no time like the present, she dialed the contact that once made her smirk but instead only made her furious to look at.

“Amelia, hey, how are you? Sorry it’s been a hectic couple of weeks.”

“Cut the crap Jack, you never intended to keep this friendship after you got what you were after.”

“Excuse me? You wanted it just as bad as I did.”

“You’re right about that, I thought I wanted it. Now, though, all I feel is regret. You know Jack, I knew from the moment we met that you were just my type, the kind that only calls me late at night. I knew a guy like you, and he treated me more or less the same. I gave myself to him, over and over for the better part of 3 years, and it was only when I left that he decided I might have been worth it... worth him.”

“But not you, you couldn’t help but run to your group chat and brag about your latest conquest, about how you made me feel wanted, only to rip it all out from under me the next morning and every day since. Honestly Jack, I think it's time you grew up a little. For Ben to confide in you how he was feeling and for you to just have blatant disregard for your so-called best mate. I can’t believe you would stoop so low. I know I'm in the wrong here too, but you are his best mate for crying out loud! How could you do this to him?”

“I don’t even want to hear what you have to say, I just needed to get that off my chest. Lose my number Jack, find some other hopeless girl that you can lure in with your foolish words and sweet nothings because I’m done. I’m done with whatever this was to you.”

______________________________________________________________

“You’re probably not going to believe me, but you have no idea how happy I am to see you here,” I heard from behind me, spinning around on my heels to see the ever-charming, boyish grin I used to love with my whole heart. This time, it's a different kind of love - it's an unconditional love shared between two people that are glad to exist together in the same crazy world.

“Federico, amore mio.” (Federico, my love) I stood up from my place on the bench at the Technical Headquarters and Training Ground of the Italian Football Federation, bringing the taller, heavily tattooed man into my arms. A gentle rock from him, side to side, to let me know that he can feel the weight of my moral compass.

“Vieni, cammina con me” (come, walk with me) He looped our arms together, and we strolled around the perimeter of the pitch that I was using to visualise my plays for the upcoming games. By the time we made it to the first set of goals, Fede had had enough of letting me mull over my own thoughts.

“Tesoro, Jorgi called one night a couple weeks ago. As smart as he is, it turns out he is hopeless at calming down an emotional female. While I'm not proud of knowing exactly how to calm you down, being that it was more often than not my fault you were inconsolable in the first place, I had to get some information out of him as to who upset my favourite girl in all of England.”

So I launched into the story, telling him everything from Mykonos to that fateful night a few weeks ago. Fede being Fede, he wanted to know everything, but I stopped just short of letting him know how many times Jack took me to paradise (much to his dismay). By the time I had wrapped up, we must have walked the pitch at least 3 times in its entirety, before retiring to the centre circle where we sat on opposite sides of the half way line staring at each other.

“I’m sorry that I ruined you for any other man,” Fede spoke solemnly.

“Fede, no - it was my stupid mistake to sleep with Jack.”

“No, let me finish amore. I’m sorry that I made you love me so deeply, and convinced you that the way I treated you was the right way, that the way I was with you was what you expect in every man to come after me. This Jack, he sounds just like me about 5 years ago - before I met you. But Ben, he sounds like the man I am trying to better myself to be, to be the man that deserves the kind of love you have to give.”

“I want you to listen to me. You need to fight for Ben. From what I have heard from both yourself and Jorgi-”

“That boy cannot keep his mouth shut to save himself,” I muttered under my breath.

“Amelia, you have a heart that deserves to be loved. Open yourself up to Ben. Tell him how you feel. From experience, you are very hard to ignore when you’re so vulnerable. Be honest with him, apologise, make him feel wanted, not like a second choice. Let him know how much you care for him, and equally how much you want him to care for you. He will see your sincerity and realise just how truly irresistible you are.”

Part 12. | la parte finale

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1ddotdhq · 3 years

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🧦Tues 17 Nov ‘20✍️

Liam’s news Hugo collection (Season 3) will be out very soon and it is a unisex capsule, so there will be something for everyone (you can almost hear Ben Shapiro shouting with rage in the distance). One of the T-shirts in particular, has the trans symbol, and Africa with a heart around it. The outline of Africa is because the line is made with cotton from sustainable cotton farming techniques in Africa (hmmm), and the trans symbol is possibly simply meant to convey 'unisex' but thanks for that Liam! About the capsule, Liam says, “I’m proud of what we have achieved...it looks great and at the same time is highlighting the important work that cotton made in Africa does”. Hugo is currently taking questions about the new collection on their insta story - like RIGHT NOW (!) so if you have a question for him, what are you waiting for?! There are also pictures of Liam modeling the new line on Hugo’s website and, as always, he looks amazing! A stylist and costume designer named Mekel Bailey posted an instagram story yesterday with Liam, saying “on set with @/LiamPayne thank you for a great day!”. He works for an agency called Wizzo & Co, who represents him, but, uh, more importantly, he posted about being tested for COVID and also about the COVID remedies the “COVID rep” gave him. It is unclear if this is because of company policy or because he’s come in contact with someone who was positive, but if it’s the latter, I hope Liam is doing the right thing and self isolating for the next two weeks. The world will be here when you get back!

We got a Vogue outtake today! Harry is in the plaid skirt and no shirt spread out in a blue and green room (bluegreener alert!) on top of a cart of some sort, looking boldly into the camera. He was wearing a $270 pair of ripped socks and his pink shoelaced Vans. Anne went on Lorraine (a British talk show) and talked about how very proud she is of Harry (and Gemma!) and of the Vogue shoot in particular. She echoed some of the quotes from the shoot, taking the credit for Harry’s love of fancy dress (“Gemma hated it but Harry always embraced it”), said that her friends had asked her if Harry was “a bit nesh” (friolento, or susceptible to the cold) because he was so heavily covered compared to Gemma in their joint photo, lol, and she doesn't know yet whether she'll get them home with her for Christmas. And then the second installment of Guccifest dropped today, and still no Harry, but you didn’t think I was gonna make a Gucci account and then NOT watch them all, did you? I have quite a bit to say, but you’ll all have to wait until H shows up to hear it, I’m afraid!

Niall is raffling signed merch from the RAH performance for WeNeedCrew, Louis followed Captain Tom Moore (the 100 year old army vet who was walking to raise money for the NHS that Louis posted about a while back), and Eleanor posted two very Louis-related instagram stories which hasn't happened in a minute, and, after Louis liked a post of hers last week for the first time in like a year, it does make you wonder if Louis’ team is preparing for movement on their end.

#liam payne #harry styles #niall horan #louis tomlinson #guys where is everyone??#are people still online?#also the preliminary vaccine timeline is Jan?#so maybe we could go to concerts? mayyybbeeee??#eleanor #i guess #there was nothing happening today so no hot takes in my tags #blame it on the guys not me!#anyways!#song of the day!#Your Song by Elton John #because *I* am clearly a true bluegreener

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mysticmegaraofficial · 3 years

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A Sham Psychic || Ben & Meg

TIMING: Present. LOCATION: Coffee Plus PARTIES: @professorbcampbell & @mysticmegaraofficial SUMMARY: A ‘psychic’, a cultist, and a spirit walk into a bar.. CONTENT: Body Horror Mentions, Grief Mentions

Looking around the tables of Coffee Plus, Ben settled in his usual corner of the shop with a book and a tall iced coffee. The weather had been unseasonably warm lately, which had put an unfortunate damper on his prospects. Not many people were interested in sitting in a Coffee Shop in the middle of summer. But, he’d keep an eye out anyways. Shifting in the seat that was just a bit too small for his wide frame, Ben looked around at the other patrons with an appraising eye. A woman sipping coffee as she read the newspaper, a young man who looked quite fidgety as he waited for his espresso, and-- Ben’s eyebrows creased together as he took in the woman who was… doing fortune telling? In the corner of Coffee Plus of all places? Whatever she was saying clearly had some kind of an affect on the person she was talking to. Ben watched her, analyzing the way she spoke, the way her eyes moved. A hack. A sham. Incredible, even in White Crest, there were people trying to play the part of the psychic.

Ben watched and waited until the client had slid a crumpled twenty across the table and walked away, visibly shaken. Interesting, interesting. Smiling to himself, Ben took his coffee cup and strolled across the shop towards the woman. “Hello there. Are you doing… fortune tellings?”

“Are you sure?” Jolie’s quiet voice was hard to hear, her shaking hands clasped around her to-go coffee cup. Meg felt sorry for her. Losing a partner so soon after marriage must be one of the hardest things someone could go through. Pierce’s spirit stood over her, disfigured and sad, but mostly full of concern for his wife.

Meg hadn’t planned on doing any readings in Coffee Plus this afternoon. She had just settled down at a corner table when tear stricken Jolie and her ghost husband approached her. Jolie was, apparently, a fan. Please, she said, I’m so lost. Admittedly, Meg usually charged for impromptu readings since she wasn’t keen on using her downtime to do her job. That said, she didn’t charge Jolie anything. This woman wasn’t an excited fan eager to meet a celebrity, this was someone in a lot of pain. Besides, Meg always had a soft spot for crying women anyway.

“I’m sure,” Pierce said. “I just want Jo to be happy. I don’t… I want her to process her grief, and move on. And to look back on our memories together with fondness.”

An emotionally mature ghost was a godsend for Meg. She reached across the table and gripped Jolie’s hand. “I’m sure,” she said, softening her voice. This wasn’t on television, so it didn’t need a big finish. “I see happiness in your future. You’re going to succeed in writing. Publish the novel you’re writing. And even if you don’t form a better relationship with your mother, you will still be happy.” Pierce had very helpfully provided those details for her.

“But --”

Meg smiled at her. “I know it must be difficult for you -- I mean, picturing a life without the one you love? But I can sense Pierce. He longs for you to go through the tunnel of grief and come out the other side. It won’t be okay today or tomorrow and the sadness you feel may never go away completely, but the pit of grief and sadness will shrink so you don’t fall in every time.”

“You’re sure?” Jolie asked. “Do you really see success and happiness?”

Meg nodded. “I do. I promise.”

In the end, Jolie walked away sniffling. She seemed calmer though, not quite at peace and not quite okay, but satisfied with what Meg gave her. Pierce gave her a nod, and followed after her, and both disappeared through the exit of the coffee shop. Meg relaxed a little, and considered grabbing her book from her purse when someone else approached her.

She glanced at the man, taking a sip of her coffee. “Psychic readings,” she corrected. “Fortune telling is a different sort of art. But no -- well, yes. Technically. This was an…” Meg paused, tapping her cheek as she tried to think of the right description. “Fantastic coincidence, me and that woman both being here at the same time.” Meg smiled at him.

“Anyway, were you just curious, or were you looking for a reading?” Meg gestured to the empty chair across from her that Jolie vacated. “I wouldn’t mind company either way.”

Ben hadn’t paid much attention to the woman who had left, but he caught a glimpse of her wiping her eyes as she left the shop. Clearly, whatever this hack had said must have struck a nerve in her. A very emotional one. But how? There was always a trick with these things. Ben had seen a great many things, met a great many creatures that could masquerade as almost human. He was familiar with the werewolves that howled in the night and the vampires who leeched life from the residents of town. But he knew there were no such things as psychics or mind readers. Otherwise, his family would have been found out long ago. Arching a brow in the appearance of interest, Ben asked, “Psychic readings? What exactly does that sort of thing entail?”

A fantastic coincidence. What that meant, Ben had no idea in the slightest. “You know, you’ve piqued my curiosity. If you don’t mind, I’d love to have one done.” And see if I can uncover this sham.

Meg examined him, making sure to keep her face friendly and open as he took the spot across from her. A part of her wanted to make the man cough up cash payment for a reading, but she technically offered and it wouldn’t be fair to charge him anything when her previous guest hadn’t been charged a dime. “I’m so thrilled I’ve managed to pique your interest, ” Meg said. “A psychic reading is … Well, in layman’s terms an attempt to discern information about your past and how it’ll affect your future with my gift -- my heightened perspective of being able to look through the fabric of time and space.”

She reached to take a sip of her iced coffee right when she felt the presence enter the coffee shop. Her stomach sank, brief flashes of the last time an unexpected spirit came into this establishment. Not a great memory for her or anyone else who had been here that day. It wasn’t a poltergeist, though. Meg watched as the girl dressed in fashion Meg herself wore in high school phased through the wall, floating over to their table to examine them, taking her place behind the man. Was this his ghost? Or was she just being a spirit medium magnet again?

“Of course,” Meg continued, “I do have to give you a warning.”

The spirit made eye contact with her, and Meg raised her eyebrows slightly.

“Hello,” the girl said. “You… can see me?”

Meg gave the slightest incline of her head. An unfamiliar expression flashed across the girl’s face.

“... This is Benjamin Campbell. Everyone calls him Ben.”

Meg continued speaking to Ben. “I do real psychic readings - I’m not going to tell you what I think you want to hear. I’m going to tell the truth. And you may not like it.” She was taking a risk with her next question. The ghost may be lying, or producing old information hoping she would fail. Meg was fine with taking risks. “Will that be alright, Mister Campbell? Or do I have permission to call you Ben?”

Ben made himself comfortable in the seat across from the woman, his expresison politely neutral and open as he listened to her prattle on about how she could look through the veil of time and space. As if she could do such a thing. Zombies, vampires, demons, gremlins, and horrifying creatures that could steal the faces of his colleagues? Of course they existed. Psychics? People claiming to peel back the void? Utter garbage. There were no such people, or else His Lord would have warned him. Hrvsht’ooooor had offered all kinds of advice to the Campbells over the years, whispering the ways to avoid detection, describing the sort of creatures who were unfit to be sacrificed to him. Like the walking garbage disposal that Ben had an unwilling alliance with. Psychics did not exist, plain and simple.

Taking a sip from his coffee, Ben watched with mild interest as the woman seemed to stare not at him, but past him. She really was keeping up with this whole act of seeing past the unseen, wasn’t she? Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her words, Ben smiled instead. “I think I can handle the truth.” He said with a shrug. When he said his name, Ben raised an eyebrow. “You may call me Ben. I hope you don’t think that’s enough to impress me though.” He said, turning the plastic cup of his ice coffee to show the hastily scrawled “Ben” on the side. “And my family is quite well known around town.”

Meg grinned as he turned the coffee cup towards her. Really, she should have caught that, even without the spirit lingering over his shoulder. “You’ll have to forgive me when I say my goal isn’t to impress you,” Meg said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Too many psychics like myself spend far too much time trying to impress people with their gifts -- trying to make people believe them. People will believe whatever they want, regardless of what I say or do. So I just give the truth, and let people take what they will from that.” Still she clapped her hands together. “Fantastic. There are many people who can’t handle the truth. You may call me Meg, by the way.”

“I remember his mother,” the girl said suddenly, and Meg fell silent to listen to the secrets she whispered. His mother. His job. Meg smiled.

“Your mother worked in the front office at the high school. Before my time, of course, but she always had cookies on the table for the kids. Nice lady, everyone loved her.” Meg sipped her coffee. “And you -- work at the college now, right? I suppose I should have said Professor Campbell. Forgive me.”

The woman brushed away the obvious dig with a nonchalant wave of her hand, making Ben’s grin only grow wider. Not in mirth, but in irritation. She was really going to keep up this charade? These sort of scams were just that-- scams. There were tricks, there were ploys, there was subterfuge abound. But he had to admit that her dedication to the act was something else. “Meg. Charming to meet you.” He said with a nod, before taking a sip from his coffee. He watched her expression intently. She wasn’t looking off into space like she had been before, but he could see the slight way her pupils dilated as though she’d been struck with something--

At the mention of his mother, Ben offered a nod. “Yes, my mother did. She also enters the annual bake off every year and, again, we’re quite well known in town. If you know me, you know my mother.” He said with a blasé expression on his face.

Oooh, he didn’t believe a single word she was saying. Amusement grew in Meg, a little more than it should. She was, in fact, a fake psychic with some otherworldly capabilities, so it wasn’t exactly offensive when people could see the actual truth. More often than not, their disbelief was rooted in the special kind of place lots of White Crest citizens resided. “It’s a pleasure,” she confirmed. She leaned back in her chair, nodding along at the information he willingly gave to her. “No wonder all the kids loved her then. You must have great taste in baked goods.”

“He doesn’t believe you,” the girl said, frowning. The spirit seemed far more upset by this than Meg was. Meg was already calculating exactly who Ben was -- rather, making generalizations about his character from his attitude, body language, and the information she had, and was ready to continue on with her reading when the spirit offered her something more.

“You loved to learn -- I mean, you’d have to, if you’re a Professor. But only in the subjects you find interesting. You’re not a Professor of Physics, hm? I see your past -- you making your physics lab partner do all the work for your project. Stellar grade, that A+. A shame Wyatt had to share it with you - naughty.” Meg said teasingly. It was all in good fun, of course. Meg herself had definitely bribed her sister into doing some work for her when they were younger, just like Meg had posed as Willow on request to break up with her boyfriend because she was too scared to do it. Children were funny.

Crossing one leg over the other, Ben leaned back in the chair, his considerable bulk pressing against the back of the thin chair as he regarded the woman. Meg. Her name seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. And he certainly didn’t recognize her. She’d confirmed that she was younger than him-- his mother had retired a year after he’d graduated high school, having no other reason to remain in the school district now that her sons were no longer a part of the system. Which meant she was a local. She wasn’t just some drifter who had set up shop in White Crest, drawn by the peculiarities of the town. “My mother’s spoiled me on them, that’s for certain.” He said coolly.

Ben kept his eye trained on Meg’s face as she next spoke. There was something off about this whole thing. She didn’t know this information off the top of her head. It was almost like she was being fed it, like someone was telling her. Ben’s forehead wrinkled in a frown at the woman’s next assertion. What? Physics? He’d taken that class over two decades ago, he couldn’t be bothered to remember every peer he extorted. Of course, he had a feeling it was true, but she didn’t need to know that. “I can’t say I remember that. You’ll have to excuse me, but high school was over twenty years ago for me. I have no idea who Wyatt is.”

“Mother’s do tend to do that,” Meg agreed, her easy smile still on her face. I can’t say I remember that. Possibly the truth, especially if high school was twenty years in the past for him. Meg quietly cheered to herself. She was younger than him. High School was what? Fifteen years for her. She knew that eye cream she bought did wonders for her. Before she could continue on, the spirit spoke again, her flash of anger causing the lights to flicker ever so slightly. Meg crossed her legs, leaning forward on her elbows as the spirits whispers floated to her ears.

“Wyatt Miller, he was one of your teammates from when you played Football. I think he was the one who… What was it? Fumbled the ball during the state championship?” Meg’s smile widened. She was actually enjoying this reading quite a bit. Benjamin didn’t seem like he was exactly pleasant, and she found just a tiny bit of joy knowing she was right about everything she was saying. “You threw your helmet at him. Chucked it even, you were so angry… It was scary.” Meg echoed the spirit, head tilting to the side. “Are you an angry person, Benjamin? When things don’t go your way? You should watch your temper. You never know when it could get you into trouble.”

Ben was about to respond when he noticed the way the lights in the coffee shop began to flicker. What was that? A trick of the light or just some theatrics? This woman must have a friend on the inside, someone who was manipulating the lights in the back of the store to make it seem as though she had some kind of “power.” How else would they be doing that. And, as the woman spoke up once more, Ben knew that she had to have an informant. Someone from his high school days. Someone with a keen memory, or maybe just a vendetta against him.

Ben kept his expression pleasantly amused as his mind raced. Who was she? And more importantly, who was her informant? Who was telling her these things about him? Because, if they had as long a memory as it seemed, they would need to be dealt with swiftly. He couldn’t have his high school antics coming back to haunt him, not when he was so focused on his goal. If this wasn’t a public place, if this woman wasn’t… visible. Oh, he would love to watch her bleed for Hrvsht’ooooor. Not die, that was an honor she wasn’t worthy of. But bleed and beg and suffer for Him? Ben would love to see that. Instead, he stood up with a shake of his head, chuckling. “High school emotions run high. Teenage emotions. Everyone gets a little out of hand at that age.” He said with a rueful expression on his face. “I shudder to think what life would be like if we were to judge everyone on their highschool personas.” He said before casting a shrug in her direction. “Tell your friend, or whoever told you about me, that I’d love to meet them. It’d be nice to catch up on old times.”

He seemed amused, which kept the light airy talk between them. Ben clearly didn’t believe her, and it was almost funny watching him wash everything off as typical high school antics. “That’s true, I suppose. Too much testosterone and puberty,” Meg said. But she couldn’t help the cheeky grin that came across her face as she finally leaned back in her chair, reaching down to pull out the book she was reading. “You’re ending the reading early,” she told him. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll find a secret you don’t want anyone to find out about? Are you hiding something you don’t want me to see?” The question was innocent enough and left unanswered. Meg laughed under her breath, shaking her head as she opened her book to continue where she left off the previous night.

“He’s not my friend,” the spirit said suddenly, and Meg looked up, brows furrowed. She had forgotten the girl was there. The girl wasn’t looking at her anymore though, she was looking in the direction Ben had walked off towards. After a moment, the spirit turned and walked away from the table. She didn’t seem interested in Meg at all. She was going to call out to her, but the second she caught sight of her back, Meg’s voice caught in her throat.

The girl’s spine and back of her rib cage were pried open, sticking out every which way. Translucent organs stuck out, unseen from the front. Meg was never a great at anatomy, but she was pretty sure the only thing missing were the girl’s lungs. Meg’s eyes narrowed, and she couldn’t help but glance off in the direction Benjamin went.

A coincidence, surely. Right?

#wickedswriting #para #para ben #ben

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plaidbooks · 3 years

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Hiiii!! Could you do a Carisi x reader where the reader works for child protective services and he gets upset because the reader has to respond to homes where there’s concerns that could be dangerous (domestic violence, substance abuse, etc) and doesn’t always wait around so law can go with her because the child’s safety could be in danger?

CPS

A/N: Heya Anon! Ok look, I understand that most cases aren’t this bad, and this would probably never happen irl. But that’s the beauty of fanfics! So no, I don’t want to hear about how CPS wouldn’t do stuff like this (I know--during my child psychology classes, we talked about CPS and stuff). Hope you still enjoy~

Tags: mentions of child abuse, mentions of drug abuse, knives/stab wounds

Words: 2102

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

You showed up at the Peterson’s brownstone, launching out of your car. The flashing lights reflected in your eyes as you rushed up the stairs and inside. You glanced around nervously; there were overlapping voices, loud, coming from the kitchen. Carefully, you peered around the corner into the space, seeing two detectives—Rollins and a new one you didn’t know yet—trying to talk down Jeff, the father. Diana was cowering in the corner, her eyes glassy from tears, distant from drugs, and her sobs and wails contributing to the overall cacophony. But the scene in front of you wasn’t what you were interested in. You scanned the room until you found two eyes peering out from under the kitchen table at you.

“Eric, come here honey, it’s okay,” you muttered to the boy, crouching down and reaching out for him.

You doubted he could hear you over the screaming adults, but the message was clear enough. He glanced once at his parents before he crawled out from under the table, quickly coming over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Hey, that CPS bitch is stealing our child!” Jeff yelled, raising a gun you hadn’t noticed before. You didn’t waste any time; you wrapped your arms around Eric’s back, standing with him and taking off back out the front door, Jeff’s shouts chasing you out.

“You’re okay, you’re safe now,” you murmured to Eric. This was the final straw for the Peterson’s, and now Eric was going to a foster family. Sadly, you had seen this coming, and you had already picked out the perfect family for him. “Let’s get you out of here.”

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

You were relaxing at home, filling out your reports from today—you always made short-hand notes while onsite, but now you were adding details. You were still shaken from the ordeal with the Peterson’s, especially with the scolding you had gotten from detective Rollins and her new partner, Kat. Something that wasn’t new to you.

The sound of a key in your front door made you smile; your boyfriend was home, and at a decent time for once! Ever since he became an ADA, Sonny wasn’t out until the middle of the night anymore, and it made you happy, being able to cuddle up next to him at night. Though, after he hung up his coat and came to stand in front of you, arms crossed, you could see that Rollins had talked to him first.

“Sonny, it’s not that bad—” you started before he cut you off.

“Not that bad? Amanda said that you went in during an active DV, while the father still had a gun in his hand! What were you thinking?” he growled at you, eyes narrowed.

“I was thinking that there was a child who needed to get the fuck outta there,” you replied, trying to keep your voice level. This wasn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation…or a version of it.

“But you’re not an officer, you’re not trained for that!” he threw his arms up. Past all his angry demeanor, you could see his concern, his worry, evident in his tense shoulders, his clenched jaw.

“Babe, nothing bad happened; Eric is safe with his new family.,” you sighed. “We’ve both had long days, Sonny, and I don’t want to fight you on this tonight.”

“Nothing bad happened this time…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. Sonny came to sit next to you on the couch. “Look, I don’t wanna fight you on this, either. But I also really don’t want to hear about you running into a bad situation, end up hurt or worse…I just—I worry about you, doll.”

You felt your heart strain; you felt bad making him worry, but you also couldn’t leave children in those situations. “I’m sorry to make you worry, baby. I’m here, and I’m safe.” You wrapped your arms around him, and he hugged you back, kissing the top of your head.

Sonny held you like that for a moment, gently rocking you. Then, he sprung off the couch. “Okay, let me get started on dinner,” he smiled, heading to the kitchen.

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

It was another routine check-in…at least, that’s what you told yourself. In reality, this was one of the families that was on their last strike. They hadn’t done enough to technically lose their child yet, but you highly suspected that the parents were back on drugs. They were smart, though, and hid it well, and you couldn’t make a case to take Sky from them yet. You knocked on the door and Joy, the mother, let you in with a sneer. The small apartment was dirty, but not outrageously so.

“And where’s little Sky?” you asked, glancing around the place.

“Around here somewhere,” Joy drawled, lighting up a cigarette. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, moving further into the place. You looked around the space, with no sign of Sky. Starting to feel a little nervous, you moved down the hallway, towards her room. You let out a sigh of relief when you found Sky sitting on her bed, glassy eyes wide. But your relief was short-lived when you saw the bruise on her arm, the blackeye quickly forming.

You rushed to her bedside, crouching low and examining her face. “Who did this to you?” you muttered.

Her eyes filled with tears and her lip quivered, but she said nothing. Instead, her eyes flickered over your shoulder just as you heard footsteps stopping behind you. You barely had time to turn before you were punched in the face, your teeth clattering together. You slumped against the bed, head already pounding.

“You ain’t takin’ my baby from me, you bitch,” Albert hissed at you, Sky’s father, if he could be called such. He was leaning over you, and you did something that went completely against your company’s code of conduct, the only thing you could think to do. Gathering all your strength, you threw your fist out as hard as you could, punching him as hard as you could between his legs.

Albert groaned and crumpled to the floor. You grabbed Sky’s arm, struggling to your feet and heading for the door. Pulling out your phone, you called Olivia—Sonny forced you to have her as your emergency contact in your phone.

“[Y/N]? Everything okay?” she asked in way of answering.

“Olivia, I need some officers at 547 15th street, apartment 4B, asap,” you rushed out. You had made it to the end of the hallway, but Joy cut you off, blocking your path, a knife clutched in her hand.

“You’re not taking her,” she mumbled. You could hear Albert pulling himself to his feet behind you.

“You still there, [Y/N]?” Olivia’s voice was saying. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed. “If I don’t make it…tell Dominick I love him,” you whispered into your phone before letting it fall from your hand to the floor, making a plan. It wasn’t a good plan, but it would hopefully get Sky out of here unharmed…well, besides the injuries she already had.

Joy took a step towards you. You lowered your voice, so that only Sky would hear you. “You run out of this building; make it to the street. I want you to scream ‘fire’ as loud as you can, do you understand me?” You didn’t look at the girl, but you felt her nod. You could hear Albert’s footsteps and you knew you had to move quickly; you couldn’t fight them both off.

Ignoring the pounding in your face and head, you gathered your strength, rushing Joy. She raised the knife above her head, and you gripped her wrist, struggling against her. You vaguely noticed the knife slice through your upper arm, the sharp pain that came with it.

“Go, Sky, go!” you yelled, shoving Joy back against the wall of the hallway. The girl sprinted by you and out the door, her voice echoing down the building hallway. You hit Joy’s arm against the wall until she dropped the knife, and you struggled to get the upper hand.

Strong arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you off the ground—Albert was back. Joy was panting, chest heaving as she stood in front of you. You struggled in Albert’s grip, but it was futile. Joy reached down, grabbing the knife and moving towards you. You lashed out with your legs, kicked her wherever you could. But she continued her advance, swinging the blade at your legs, slashing shallow cuts into you.

“You let our cash cow get away,” Joy sneered, brandishing the knife. “But you ain’t gonna be leaving here alive.” You braced yourself as she moved in, your strength leaving you with the blood that was dripping down your legs and arm, your head still pounding. At least Sky got away…right? That’s all that matter, anyways.

“Freeze, NYPD!” Rollins voice called from the doorway, her gun drawn.

Joy whipped around, the knife lifting towards your throat. “Come any closer and this bitch dies,” she spat at the detective.

“We don’t have to do that,” Kat said, moving around Rollins, gaining another angle on Joy. “Let’s just take a step back, take a breath—”

“I want my fucking daughter back!” Joy hissed.

You let out a humorless chuckle. “You don’t deserve to call her your daughter; you’re no mother,” you mumbled. Joy glared at you, and that was enough of a distraction for Rollins to tackle her, knocking the knife from her grasp. Albert dropped you, and Kat forced him to the ground, cuffing him. You groaned, your body on fire, your skin sticky with blood.

After cuffing Joy, Rollins came to you. “Are you alright? You’re pretty beaten up.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, where’s Sky? Is she okay?” you asked, struggling to your knees, but Rollins pushed you back down gently, but firm.

“Our officers have her—she’s being taking to Mercy for her injuries. Which is where we’re going to be taking you, too,” she explained. She examined your legs, grimacing at some of the deeper gashes.

“You did good,” Kat smiled at you, and you gave her a small smile back. You noticed your phone laying on the floor next to her.

“Hey Kat, can you pass me my phone, please? I’d like to call my boyfriend,” you asked.

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

Sonny rushed through the hospital, heading for your room, still in his court attire. He skidded to a stop outside the door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he saw you sitting there, white bandages around your legs and your right arm, a blackeye and swollen cheek forcing your left eye closed.

“Oh my god, doll…are you okay?” he asked, coming to sit by your bed, his hand covering yours.

“I’m fine, Sonny, I’m fine…but no one’s telling me about Sky, and it’s really starting to freak me out—”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll see what I can find out,” his eyes softened, and he smiled at you. “You rest, okay, sweetheart? Just rest.”

It was another 15 minutes before Sonny came back, letting you know that Sky was okay, but scared. She had the bruise on her arm, the blackeye, but more bruising on her ribcage, and thighs. When Sonny started telling you that she had been sexually assaulted, you stopped him, unable to stomach it.

“What’s going to happen to Joy and Albert?” you asked through clenched teeth.

Sonny sighed. “I’ll be charging them with everything I can, babe; they’re going away for a long time. They—they were getting money for drugs, pimping out their fucking nine-year-old.” Sonny looked as pissed, as disgusted, as you felt.

“I’ll testify, if you need me,” you promised, and he gave you a small smile.

“Yeah, I’ll call on you. But first, I’m gonna take you home, make sure you’re okay. And then, I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself, since you can’t seem to call for a fucking officer before you get into this,” Sonny gave you a pointed look.

You smiled sheepishly. “I know…but I’m not sorry about it, Sonny. God knows what could’ve happened to Sky if I didn’t show up…if I had waited.”

“I’m not saying wait, I’m saying take people with ya, that’s all,” he murmured, stroking your uninjured cheek.

You sighed. “Yeah, I know, baby, I know. I’ll…I’ll talk to the local precincts—see if I can have some officers on retainer or something.”

“That’s good enough for me. Thank you,” Sonny said, leaning down to kiss you gently.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #Anonymous

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minimitchell · 3 years

Note

“Can i at least take my shoes off before you pounce of me?” Because I know you want to😏

(smut ahead)

7:36.

7:37.

7:38.

Ben watches the minutes tick by on his watch, following the minute hand as it makes its rounds around the black clock-face. The house is empty and quiet; a far cry from its usual state with two kids running around at all times of day.

Today though, it’s sitting silent and idle on the square. There’s no music blasting from Lexi’s room, no cooing coming from the nursery upstairs, no low humming from Callum cooking in the kitchen. Ben didn’t even switch on the TV to keep him company.

Instead, he’s sitting alone on the couch in complete silence, alternating between staring at his watch and at his phone in his other hand, waiting for a message from his husband.

He will always be supportive of Callum and his career - they’ve gotten over their hang ups about their different career choices a long time ago and ever since they had their baby Ben hasn’t had much of a criminal career anyway - and he will always be on Callum’s side, whatever his husband wants to do.

He just wishes becoming a detective would come with less seminars and time away from their family.

Callum spent the last two weeks up north around Newcastle, completing a course and attending a seminar to prepare him for his final exam, and while Ben is insanely proud of him for doing all this training and studying to climb up the ranks in his career, he also misses him terribly whenever he’s away.

It’s worse at the moment. Their youngest daughter is right in the middle of teething and while they really lucked out with her when it comes to crying and sleeping through the night, it’s still exhausting to deal with this all on his own. Not to mention juggle the housework, his own job and Lexi as well.

He’s lucky that Lola and his parents were here to help; that they’re always willing to take Lizzie for the afternoon so he can get some paperwork for the Arches done or just take the girls out for an ice cream so Ben can take a quick nap. It’s completely exhausting, and he really doesn’t envy any single parents out there, but he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

They tried to facetime every night when Callum was done for the day so he could say goodnight to the kids - sometimes Lizzie only falls asleep once she’s heard Callum’s voice for the day - and talk with Ben about their days. It’s not the same though, not even close, and it’s certainly not enough to satisfy the longing that’s made a home in Ben’s chest for the last two weeks.

Which is why he’s sitting alone in their home right now.

Callum called him a couple of hours ago to let him know he’s on his way home and now, over four hours later, he should be here any minute.

Ben is positively vibrating out of his skin; he desperately longs to have his husband back with him, to have him back in his arms, to feel him against him again. Hearing Callum’s voice is great, but it’s never gonna trump actually having him here with him in person.

He takes one more look at his watch when he hears a key being inserted into the lock in the front door, the sound of clothes rustling and a suitcase being hauled in following soon after.

7:51.

Ben doesn’t give his husband much time to arrive, strutting into the hallway and taking Callum’s face in his hands to pull him into a kiss before Callum can even get a word out.

Callum makes a noise against Ben’s mouth in surprise, before he lets go of the handle of his suitcase to wrap his arm around Ben’s middle, his other hand dropping his keys and settling on one side of Ben’s face, cupping his cheek.

The kiss deepens, with Ben pushing their tongues together before nipping at Callum’s bottom lip, not letting up until his mouth is puffy and red. There’s a hunger thrumming low in his stomach; a familiar need taking over every rational thought and only leaving room for feeling, wanting.

The vibrations of a low chuckle reverberate in Callum’s throat when Ben moves down to litter kisses along his neck; the hand previously on Ben’s face runs up into his hair, tangling in the soft part on the back of Ben’s neck.

“Can I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?”

His voice is light, filled with a smile Ben can somehow hear without directly looking at it, and god did he miss this voice. He still heard that voice every day for the last two weeks but for some reason he missed it terribly regardless.

Ben relents, disentangling himself from Callum to give him enough space to take off his coat, hanging it on the hook right next to their front door, and shrug his shoes off. As soon as his second sneaker finds its place on their shoe rack though, Ben’s hands are back on Callum’s chest, fiddling with the top button of his shirt in his quest to get it unbuttoned.

“Lexi is at a mate’s house all night, Lizzie is at my mum’s.”

Ben looks up at Callum from under his eyelashes, biting his bottom lip into his mouth. His mum had definitely seen right through whatever flimsy excuse he tried to give her when he asked whether she could watch their baby for the evening. But he just wanted some alone time with his husband after being separated for a fortnight, alright.

Callum’s eyebrows rise higher on his forehead; a sly smile spreading over his face. Callum shared a room with another colleague when he was away so there wasn’t much phone action going on at night and Ben just knows Callum’s as desperate as he is to finally have each other again.

“So I really need you to fuck me right now.”

Callum is back on him in a flash, hands wandering down to Ben’s ass and mouths smashing onto each other while he walks them into the living room and in the direction of the couch. Ben falls backwards onto it with a heavy thump, not being able to hide the hungry look on his face when he looks up at his husband. He feels almost dizzy with want; every second he doesn’t have Callum against him feels too long, too wasted.

Ben watches on as Callum unbuttons his shirt and throws him somewhere to the side, using the downtime to get out of his own shirt and get his jeans unzipped. It’s oddly reminiscent of the beginning of their relationship, the time before their kids were lurking around every corner, for them to just be able to get it on like this without a second thought. But god does it feel good to not overthink how loud he’s going to be or be aware that they always have to keep one ear on the babyphone.

He loves his kids but right now he really loves that they aren’t here.

Before he can pull his pants and underwear down though, he’s stopped by Callum’s hands on him, running up his thighs. He’s perched in front of Ben now, knees on the rug in front of the couch. Ben scooches down a bit, bracketing Callum in-between his legs.

Their eye contact never breaks as Callum pulls his pants and underwear down in one go, letting them fall haphazardly to the floor beside him. His fingers trail back up Ben’s legs, over the coarse hair there and down the crease of his hips. Goosebumps are following his digits, breaking out on his skin in response to the soft touch.

Callum leans down to press kisses over his thigh, inching closer and closer to Ben’s dick in the process. It makes him reach out to tangle a hand in Callum’s hair, holding onto it with a vice grip. He wants to tell Callum to stop teasing and get on with it but no words are coming out. It’s like he’s too turned on already to speak; the sight of Callum on his knees in front of him enough to render him speechless.

A moment later, Ben is sure he wouldn’t even be able to speak if he wanted to anyway, not when Callum seals his lips around the head of his dick and starts running his tongue all over it without much warning in advance. The curse that falls from Ben’s lips is loud and uninhibited, his fingers tightening in Callum’s hair.

He’s been practically half-hard since Callum had announced he’s on his way home and it only takes a couple of bobs and tugs for his dick to stand to full attention.

It’s not going to be a very lengthy endeavor, Ben knows it the second he feels that familiar tug in the bottom of his stomach, that pressure running through his lower half. He also didn’t get off in two weeks now, telling Callum it’s in solidarity when in reality he just much prefers his husband’s touch to his own by now, and right now it feels like it won’t take more than a few more seconds for him to tip over the edge.

“Fuck, babe, I won’t last like this.”

He’s torn between wanting to come and trying to draw it out a while longer, maybe get there together with Callum, but the decision is made for him when Callums pulls off with a wet sound, pressing kisses up Ben’s stomach on his way to his lips. Ben welcomes the kiss to his lips with a sigh, pushing their tongues back together to taste himself.

God, he has missed this.

Callum gets his dick aligned with Ben’s - he isn’t sure when exactly Callum lost his own pants and underwear; it must’ve happened when Ben was too busy wading off his impending orgasm - bucking into him in a way that wretches a desperate moan from him.

It feels too good, them sliding against each other like this, with just enough friction to make it just as dirty and rough as he likes it. Blunt nails dig into the skin of Callum’s back when he trails his mouth down Ben’s neck and onto that one particular spot that never fails to make his knees weak.

“Are you close?”

The words are groaned right into his ear, wet breath hitting his skin and making him shudder. There’s an edge to Callum’s voice that tells Ben he’s close himself, their hips meeting in quicker, more desperate, thrusts now.

“Yes, fuck, almost there.”

Ben arches his back more, twisting and changing the angle until he’s seeing stars whenever they glide together. He presses his legs closer to Callum’s body, trapping him in-between his thighs, gripping every bit of skin his hands can reach.

Callum is making these familiar, low-pitched noises in his ear where he’s pressed against his neck and they run straight to his dick, delivering that last bit that gets him to finally tip over the edge.

They must get there almost at the same time because when Ben comes back down to earth again, Callum is spent and panting in his arms; his chest rising and falling rapidly. Ben runs one of his hands back up into Callum’s hair, raking his nails over Callum’s scalp, getting a satisfied murmur in response to the gesture.

“Missed you, baby.”

Ben’s voice is quiet in the overall silence of their home, like the words are a precious secret only to be shared in the confined space between their bodies. Callum’s hand finds Ben’s free one on the couch, tangling and knotting their fingers together. He presses a kiss onto the skin underneath him and from above him, Ben sees that his eyes are firmly shut.

“Missed you more.”

“Not even possible.”

Ben presses a kiss into his hair, soaking up the feeling of having his husband back in his arms. They’ll have to get up in a minute, go for a shower and maybe order some food in, enjoy the rare evening they can spend with just one another. But for now he’s content in lying here, skin on skin and heartbeats aligned.

Time can run on without them for a while. Everything else around them can wait.

On his wrist, the minutes tick by undisturbed.

#ballum #ballum fic #my writing #back by very much unpopular demand hi #testing the waters with this #sorry it took so long cally #calsangel

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nanagoswife · 3 years

Text

For You? Always.

Chapter Twelve

Summary: A week in to your trip and your birthday has come around. What will this celebration look like?

W/C: 1

<<Previous, Next>>

“Mister perfect is what he is,” Claire had said after you told her about Ben. It caused a laugh from both of you. “I’m so sorry that this is going through your birthday. I would’ve rescheduled but these are the only couple of weeks that I won’t be busy for the next while.”

“Trust me, it’s fine. I didn’t have a plan anyways.”

Claire looked at you doubtfully but didn't say anything. Instead, she looked out over the trees to the lake that was behind her house.

The first week wasn't too bad. Each day was made better with the calls from Ben at night.

Though, the last few nights had been short calls. Ben had told you that he was super busy every day and he had to take his work home those nights. You wondered what was going on.

"Excuse me, ladies?" Derek came out where you and Claire were lounging. Both of you turned to look towards him. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm headed out. I'll meet you two at the restaurant for dinner."

"Alright. See you there," Claire said enthusiastically. Well, more than she normally sounded. You shrugged it off and turned to do some more relaxing. Later, you would get ready for the evening.

- - -

Claire had told you that she would bring you and Derek to her favourite restaurant for your birthday dinner. It excited you as you and Claire had grown quite close over the last week.

A cloud did still hang over it, though. You only wished that Ben could've celebrated it with you.

Tonight, you dressed up a little bit. A soft, royal blue dress that had a long skirt was what you chose. The material brought a comfort to you every time you wore it. Then, you went about doing a few more things to freshen up.

Claire had always been excited whenever she took you and Derek out, but she seemed even more excited than before. You would’ve shaken it off, but Derek seemed more optimistic about it earlier as well. Maybe she decided that she was going to publish at your company and Derek already knew, you mused.

Either way, you were happy that you got along with Claire and you didn’t mind the celebration she wanted to make of it.

As you finished getting ready for the evening, you waited in the living room until she was ready. Then, she drove the two of you to the restaurant.

- - -

Arriving at the restaurant, a few of the staff said hello to Claire when you walked in. It was expected as Claire explained that she came to this restaurant the most.

It was a simple and charming place that was very family friendly. The sight of some of the families enjoying their meals was a warming sight as you walked by to your own table. One young boy waved at you with a big smile. You waved back with your own grin.

After a small walk, you saw Derek waiting at a table already. He greeted the two of you as you neared.

Sitting down, Derek began to speak, “I have been talking with Claire and we decided to get you a bit of a birthday surprise.” You felt very confused and scratched your head.

“You didn’t h-”

Claire interjected, “Turn around.”

Now, you were more confused than ever. Sitting still for a few seconds, you looked at the pair's smirks. Finally, you slowly turned around. Your jaw dropped and you immediately shot out of your chair and ran over in extreme happiness.

Dropping the flowers on the closest table, Ben took you into his arms as you basically jumped on him. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight, warm embrace. In his arms, you felt safe. There was nothing that was threatening you, but the feeling came at just the knowledge that he would never let anything harm you.

As you had pressed your face to his chest, you lifted it away to look into his smiling blue eyes. He was also smiling from ear to ear. Putting your hands on the sides of his face, you pulled him in so that your lips touched his. Your surroundings seemed to vanish in the moment.

Both of you disconnected your lips and rested your foreheads together. Ben’s smile came back onto his face as you looked into his eyes.

“Surprise,” he said in an almost whisper. Reaching over to the table next to you, he searched for the flowers without pulling too far away. Holding the bouquet of dark pink camellias mixed with cherry blossoms next to you he said, “These are for you.”

“I- How did you know what flowers to get?”

“Siara asked Sadie for me. Shall we sit?”

Hesitantly, you pulled away from his embrace, Ben keeping his arm around your back, and walked back to the table. Claire and Derek both were smiling as you and Ben got settled beside each other.

“Nice to see you again, Ben,” Claire said when she made eye contact with him. Eyes widening in shock, you were confused as to how they knew each other. Ben laughed as Claire continued, “My mother and his used to be friends when we were kids before they moved away. Then, we were reunited a few years back when I published my first book.”

“Yeah, so when I found out from Derek that you were at Claire’s, I called and made some arrangements a few days into your trip,” Ben said, Derek and Claire nodding in confirmation. This led to an explanation on the plan.

The phone call Ben had the day before you left, a day Derek came in to talk to Claire alone, the nights he worked late to get ahead for the few days, leading to the shorter calls. It was all a plan to surprise you. Your jaw had dropped at how you were in the dark for all of it. Now Claire’s over excitement made sense.

Ben’s hand distracted you from your moment as he rested it atop of yours, which was on your knee, and gently squeezed it. Meeting his gaze, your heart was warmed. The fondness for the man beside you was far greater than a simple crush.

Getting distracted by the other two, you turned your attention to them. It pained you as you wanted to tell him. Looking at it, though, it wasn’t the right time. Not in front of others yet.

Dinner was spent talking about the time spent during the week, followed by a few stories that Ben and Claire could remember from almost two decades ago. Understandably, there was very little from then that they could recall.

They also recollected the day that they met again. Claire went to the publisher Ben was working at and he heard her name come up in a meeting. When he had done a little more thinking and when he saw where she was from, he figured it out. So, he had asked for a meeting with her which turned to be a reunion.

Claire had laughed as she added that she had forgotten until he had said his last name. “You should’ve seen his reaction when I said I didn’t know him at first. It was priceless.” Ben had laughed as well, getting slightly chagrined.

As he rubbed the back of his neck, you took his free hand into yours and rested them on his leg. He looked over to you and smiled when you gave a small squeeze in an attempt to comfort him. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

You were glad that Claire and Derek had started talking, meaning that their attention wasn’t fully on you two in the moment. Even though you didn’t care, you also hated being in a broad spotlight like that.

The rest of the time at dinner was spent with your hand in his as Derek and Claire carried their conversation until you left. This left you and Ben to sit and listen, but also take in the comfort of being together after being apart for a week. Before this trip, you were almost always together for just over two months, and the time away made you long for his presence.

Once dinner was done, the four of you made your way to Claire's car. You and Ben walked with you arms linked and you leaned a bit closer than usual.

Taking the backseat with Ben, Derek took to the front when you had all gotten into the car to go back to Claire’s. The ride’s conversations were divided, but almost non-existent as the ride back was short.

Claire and Derek said their farewells and happy birthdays not long after walking into the house. You then led Ben upstairs.

“Wow,” he said when walking into the room you were staying in. Giggling, you scanned over the subtle rustic design of the room. “I never thought rustic-ness would astonish me like this,” he continued on after a few moments.

“If you think this is nice, look out the window.” Taking the advice, he looked out at the lake and trees that were illuminated by the intense setting sun. His jaw dropped in wonder, not expecting anything to this extent.

“I have never seen anything like this, not in person anyways.” Once again, you laughed. He looked almost like a small boy discovering something amazing, like candy, for the first time. When he turned to look at you, his dropped jaw turned into a smile that exposed his teeth.

While he gawked at the view, you sat on the bed, “Have you really never stayed anywhere like this before?” Ben shook his head.

“I’ve seen many impressive skylines and cityscapes, but I’m not that type of person. I’d rather see the realness of nature than the man-made buildings,” he said in reply. This only made you admire him more, as you felt the same. Sure, a skyline of buildings is enchanting, but it never beats out nature.

Pulling his gaze away from the window, he turned to you and joined you on the bed.

You made eye contact with him as he got comfortable, “I know it hasn’t really been that long, but I really missed you, Ben.” Smiling, he put his arm around you as you rested against him.

“I did too,” he whispered softly, placing his lips on the top of your head. “I have another little surprise for you,” he said while getting up to go to his bag.

Reaching into the front pocket of his carry-on, he pulled out a box wrapped in light blue gift paper that was topped with a darker blue bow. Walking back over, he extended it towards you.

Taking it, you said playfully, “You know, I do like blue. But you didn’t only have to use blue.”

He laughed, “I know, but I thought it seemed appropriate for the first gift.” Chuckling, you started to carefully unwrap the paper. Even the box that was underneath was blue, but you guessed it wasn’t his choice as it was the brand. Proceeding, you took the top of the box off.

Seeing the silver necklace with some sort of sky-blue jewel on the end made you gasp. The way it shimmered in the light of the room. A smile grew on your face, “Oh, Ben. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a Swiss blue topaz, the chain is sterling silver. When I saw it, all I could think about was you.”

Tears of happiness threatened to show as you looked at the simple beauty of the topaz. Peeling your eyes from it, you switched to looking at Ben, “Thank you.”

Kneeling in front of you, he took the necklace and gently put it around your neck.

When he slid his hands down to your shoulders, you put one of your own on his. You tilted your head down to look at his glowing smile. "I love you," he whispered.

Moving your hand that was on his, you raised it to pull him in for a kiss. Making sure he didn’t fall, he put a hand on the mattress as he embraced it all.

Hating to break the moment, you mumbled into his lips, “I love you too.”

"What would you like to do?" Ben moved so that he was resting his head on yours.

"I say we should go outside. The sunset is beautiful this evening."

Easing off, he stepped back nodding but not before you heard him mumble, "Not as beautiful as you." Ben offered a hand when you got up, and the two of you made your way out of the room.

Next>>

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @wintersoldiersthings @where-fantasy-meets-reality

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan fluff #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x y/n #ewan mcgregor #modern au #For You? Always.#lawyer obi wan

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

And he said, I hope you know how to swim

A/N: this is for the gift exchange from @itfandomprompts! My giftee is @iheartthoreau who asked for shy skinny dipping lovers and jealous Eddie. I’m sorry it’s out so late, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Summary: The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s bare foot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent.

warnings: skinny dipping, mentioned of nudity (but nothing graphic)

read on a3o

The atmosphere of six best friends who’ve just moved past the worst stages in their life cackles in Eddie’s brain.

He’s buzzed up, energized beyond all logic by the laughter and loving gestures so carelessly tossed around in their group. Pennywise is dead, and with it the looming threat following each of them around and the teasing unhappiness hinting at what they were missing but not giving any clues as to what.

It’s all over now, and a road full of new opportunities lays ahead of them. Everyone is acting loose, ecstatic with the weight that fell off their shoulders. Eddie’s feeling a tad guilty too, for calling Myra and informing her that way about their upcoming divorce that he’s going to set in motion as soon as he’s had a good night sleep, but he felt so brave after surviving a literal killer clown, that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

A part of him was also frightful that he’d lose his courage, between now and getting home, that he’d look around his house and accept that this was all he was destined for, a mediocre life with a wife he didn’t love and a job that sucked the joy out of all employees. Myra deserved better though, and that’s why Eddie’s guilty eyeing his phone, debating on calling her back. He won’t take back what he said, because he’s relieved to have put it out in the open, but he’s unsure if he should have been more empathetic towards her feelings in all of this. If he should have ended the call after telling her to take care.

Bev notices his wandering eyes from where she seated beside him on the couch, the woman still laughing a stitch, shifting forward and hiding his phone in between seat cushions. Out of sight out of mind so to speak.

‘We’ve got time to worry about it tomorrow Eddie.’ She says, and she’s right. Tomorrow both him and Bev will have to deal with the intricacies of divorce and separating a company and a home. Tonight is reserved for the losers only.

‘Yeah Eds, and here I was assuming that after twenty years we’d have some stuff to catch up on.’

Richie regards him from the floor, legs tossed up upon the couch with his body upside down. His glasses are sliding off, but he’s lazy to fix them, so he looks like even more of a goofball than normal. If Eddie could, if he didn’t feel like his intentions would be even more noticeable if he did, he’d scoot over to Richie, adjusting his glasses and letting his fingers trail his cheek and bask in the skin to skin contact.

‘You never did anything interesting before we went to college, what makes you think you’ve done something interesting after?’ Eddie’s tongue is sharp, a façade he builds to stop speculation about his feelings towards Richie, though the truth is that he is intrigued and he craves to know every small detail about his life outside of Derry.

‘No you guys are not starting this again. I’m sick of your bickering,’ Bill interjects, rolling his eyes at the pair.

‘I reject that big Bill, we’re hilarious, you can’t be sick of us bickering when you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it for the last twenty years. Michael, back me up here buddy.’

‘Sorry Rich, I’m not getting involved in the slightest.’

‘Yeah guys come on, can’t we have one quiet night in?’

‘What so Eddie can just call me boring and I’m supposed to let it slide? Me? I’m the fireworks on the Fourth of July, the highest roller coaster in the park and the whipped cream on strawberries, but I am not boring.’ Richie changes positions, almost accidentally knocking over his beer bottle. He theatrically waves his arms back and forth, trying to animate his words and add conviction.

‘Okay, okay you’re not boring, but don’t overrate yourself either. The most adventurous thing you ever did in high school was skip a class to read a comic book in the school’s bathroom. Not exactly daredevil behavior.’

Bev sips from her whiskey, winking at Richie whose face turns beet red for a reason Eddie can’t decipher. It’s not until Bev conspicuously blows out a gust of air with her lips puckered that Eddie connects the dots.

‘Didn’t you say you ditched because you were smoking with Beverly? Dude did you fucking lie about that? I was worried you’d die and get cancer ever since that day you piece of shit.’

‘No I definitely did smoke. I swear.’

‘You’re not kidding anyone Rich, I vouched for you all those years ago, but I’m not doing it again. Little Richie was a comic book nerd who just pretended to be really cool. We never ever smoked together.’

The losers all holler, clapping their hands together and cheering on the exposure of their foulmouthed friend, debunking all the story Richie apparently made up where he and Be had to sneak out at night to smoke inconspicuously, with the exception of Eddie and Richie. Eddie, because he’s busy glaring at Richie and Richie because he’s busy tapping Bill’s hand away, teasingly disheveling his hair.

Eddie wishes he was brave enough to give these little affections to his friend, especially after witnessing how soothed Richie got when Eddie hugged him after Neibolt, when he had dropped his face into the nape of Eddie’s neck and stayed there, swaying on his feet of exhaustion. It would only make him a good friend, a best friend, but Eddie is still so damn afraid.

He might have had the power to separate from his wife and kill an abstract form of his deepest fears, but Bowers angry yelled words, such as fairy and faggot, swung to his head any time he and Richie graveted closer while walking, haunt him even now.

Touching is off limits the words tell him, so he shows affection the only way he’s ever known towards Richie, by bickering and pulling pigtails.

‘I should have expected that.’ Eddie nods vehemently, laughing as Richie’s mouth drops open in a shocked manner.

‘Are you kidding me? Eddie Spaghetti is the one telling me I’m a loser?’

Eddie flips him off, ignoring Mike’s whispered; ‘he’s got a point’, in favor of levitating his full attention on Richie. The giggling in the room elevates an octave higher.

‘You all laugh’, Richie addresses the entire group, ‘but was I not the one who came up with the idea for the list?’

Abruptly, all sounds snap off, as everyone is snapped back to the past. Even Richie is, at face value, confused about the word he spoke, until the concept and creation of the list is brought to the forefront of everyone’s mind.

‘Holy shit.’

‘Oh my god Mike please tell me you still have it.’

Mike shakes his head with a far-off look. ‘Sorry guys, I don’t know who had it last but I never found it again.’ He’s saddened by it, like he did them all an injustice by not holding on to a flimsy piece of paper.

The List, capital L, was nothing more but a checklist, composed with all the fun and dangerous things the losers all had hopes of doing after graduating high school. Eddie remembers now, the hushed laughter and uncompromisable joy that came with the simple idea of these things, how everyone pitched in and added dare after dare while him and Stan exchanged glances and hoped to god that some things would never be executed.

‘That’s okay Mike, I’m just happy we can all remember making it.’ Ben smiles reassuringly Mike’s way, who smiles back and takes a deep breath.

‘Wait, I think I can recall some of the things we wrote on there. Hold on’, Bev squeezes her eyes shut and snaps her finger in the hope it will get to her faster. ‘Oh’, she exclaims, startling Bill who chokes on his own saliva, ‘we were going to visit Europe, do a high rope parkour, rock climb and some other things I can’t remember right now.’

‘Didn’t we also agree to volunteer in a hospital and go camping in the national forest?’ Ben asks, awaiting confirmation.

‘Yeah we did, Stan was throwing a fit over going camping because of the environment and the dirt, but we were well on our way to convince him.’

‘Wow,’ Richie breathes, chest puffing up and head dropping back into the couch so his face isn’t visible to the rest. ‘I forgot all about that, but come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I did most of those things with Bryan.’

And who the fuck is Bryan? Certainly not Eddie, sweating in fear from the things that were being listed, searching for the most extreme dares he’d seen happen on tv to suggest, doing anything he could to impress Richie. Eddie was terrified of most of the activities on the list, like Bev’s idea to waterski in the ocean, or Mike’s zip lining idea, but he would have done them if it meant he could bask in Richie’s attention, impress Richie to rid himself of scared baby Eddie was so sure he must have been in Richie’s eyes. So who the hell was this Bryan stealing his thunder like that?

‘Who’s Bryan?’ Bev inquires with a smirk, winking at Richie blush ridden face. Eddie’s jealousy rears its ugly head, flaring up and making his head woozy. He simultaneously both considers choking Bev and thanking her for the question.

With Richie’s secret fresh on his mind, the way he’d so shamefully admitted that he was gay and they were the first people he’d ever found the courage to tell, Eddie wondered if Bryan was perhaps someone Richie had been romantically involved with.

Richie would have deserved it, Eddie argues in his mind, to at least for a short period of time have someone love him back as fiercely as he dons it out, but Eddie’s also furious that he stole Richie out from under his nose.

Which is illogical, because even if he and Richie had managed to stay in touch, and Eddie confessed – not much chance there, as Eddie didn’t even tell anyone he was gay when Richie did - there was no guaranty that Richie would’ve reciprocated.

‘No one snoopy’, Richie argues with a jittery leg, ’just some guy I hung out with for a while.’

Bev appears unconvinced, but she’s also respectful towards Richie's decision to not say anything. ‘So which ones did you complete?’

‘I went to Europa senior year of college, smoked a bunch of weed, went zip lining. The normal kind of stuff.’

Zip-lining, or smoking weed for that matter, causes Eddie skin to crawl, not that he’d ever admit it. He hates that that’s not the case for Bryan.

‘Well thanks Rich, none of us ever did anything on the list without the other losers. I guess you didn’t miss us too much.’ It’s not fair, of course it’s not. He can tell by the eagerness to spend time together that Richie was very lonely, and experienced the same aching emptiness where his friends were supposed to be as the rest of them.

The bitter tone of Eddie's speech, and the way Richie’s eyes turn a little dimmer extinguishes the fire of Eddie’s envy. Richie deserves better than him in every way. An apology lies at the tip of his tongue, ready to jump into the open and hopefully aid the wounds before they’re fully developed.

Sensing the impending hurricane of trouble on the horizon Mike is eager to intervene, playing mediator for two forces that are about to collide. ‘Well I mean, we probably wouldn’t have gone through with most of them anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself’, Eddie waves him off, spiteful that Mike has a good point. He would have found a way to undermine their plans and make it so that he could back out without appearing like a meek lamb, for at least half of the activities. If he had known about Bryan’s existence though, he would have done anything. He feels ready now to do anything, to one up him and establish his spot as Richie’s number one.

‘Prove it,’ Bill dares with a lopsided smirk, certain he’s got Eddie beat. He sustains eye contact, reaching for the bag of chips on the table and gnawing on it with the most smug aura Eddie has ever witnessed him having.

‘I would’, Eddie defends fiercely, ‘but we can’t do any of the things in Derry.’

‘Sounds like a cop out to me.’

‘Yeah, sure Big Bill, because you can easily find a zip line here in Derry. The town that refused to spend money on renewing the library back in the eighties is no doubt going to have that installed by now.’

‘What about skinny dipping?’ Ben proposes innocently, having no idea the kind of strain he’s putting Eddie under.

‘That’s a great idea Ben, I forgot we put that one on the list.’ Beverly acknowledges despite Eddie’s frantic head shaking. The room temperature drops down and rises back up steadily, at least according to Eddie. He’s starting to sweat, something he never does and takes pride in – in the office he’s the level headed one, and that’s saying something – and he pulls at his collar to allow some air to ventilate.

Everything except that. A swim in a dirty lake that was most likely infected was a whole plate of different bacteria, and being naked in front of the man he’s in love with is not something Eddie is particularly fond of. He almost asks for a different thing to do, but that would truly be a cop out, and he both refuses to back down in front of Richie and give Bill the satisfaction of being right.

‘Good luck with that Eds, question before this all goes down, am I allowed to use this in my next bit?’

‘Actually,’ Bev interrupts, ‘I think you should join him too.’

‘Hey I wasn’t the one that said I’d be willing to do anything.’

‘No, but you were the one who added it on the list in the first place. C’mon Richie, It’ll be fun. For us, not for you guys, but we’ll get a good laugh out of it.’

Richie is hesitant, same as Eddie, readjusting his glasses again. Eddie is sure that if he says the word Richie will tell everyone to back down for him. He wouldn’t even make fun of Eddie for it, should Eddie give any indication that he wouldn’t want him too. He thinks back to Bryan, and how he wouldn’t have backed down for such a thing, and how in awe Richie must have been seeing the man abandon all safety precaution and go for it, Eddie’s mind is made up instantly.

‘Let’s do it.’ He says without leaving room for argument, nodding at Richie as he looks to him. He hopes Richie will go with it, but is also confident that of course he will. As kids they followed each other everywhere, and surely that hasn’t changed.

‘Really? I mean yeah – sure I guess. Bring it on.’

-----

The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s barefoot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Eddie’s jumping from one foot to the other, annoyed that dirt is clinging to his skin and branches are piercing his soles, even more aggravated at the idea of cleaning them in infection filled lake water. Bev better keep her end of the promise, and be waiting near the end of the lake with a pair of fresh pressed towels.

Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent.

‘I forgot how high this was.’

It is high up, but they’ve done this jump at least a hundred times before, so Eddie’s not worried about the plunge. He’d assume Richie isn’t either, but the man keeps glances towards the path they took to get up here, uncharacteristically silent.

‘It’s okay if you're too scared to go through with it Eduardo, I won’t tell the others.’ Richie smirks when he notices Eddie’s glance, crossing his arms over his chest.

The movement makes his shoulders bulk, highlighting just how much bigger Richie is compared to Eddie. Eddie’s mouth waters, and he starts to worry about how he’s going to have to get through seeing Richie’s naked shoulders in the flesh.

‘Just get undressed will you? Hurry up.’

‘Why? Eager to see my bare ass?’

‘Yeah, because who doesn’t think jumping naked into a lake they frequented as kids is the epitome of sexiness? No you self-centered idiot, I want to get it over with so I can go back to the Inn and grab a warm shower.’

With one last peek, Eddie moves backwards, standing away from the ledge and begins to unbutton his shirt, before thinking better off it. Richie picks up on his hesitation, shifting backwards too and motioning his head towards the ridge.

‘Do you want me to show you how it’s done?’

‘No,’ Eddie objects, ‘I’ll go first.’

‘Why? I’m not going to stare at your junk while you're jumping in if that’s what you're worried about Eddie. I’m not that kind of gay.’ Rarely does Richie toss aside an opportunity to grant Eddie another humorous nickname, so the use of his real name spooks Eddie just enough that he opens his mouth to apologize without even realizing what he’s apologizing for.

Richie’s facial expression, set in a grimace and squinting his eyes defensively, are a dead give away that Eddie’s words are being taken the wrong way. If only Richie knew that Eddie wanted him to go in first so he could avoid the same temptation Richie thought he was forcing on him.

‘Richie no, that’s not what I meant I-.’ Heartfelt compliments are not something Eddie has had a lot of practice for these last few years, and he’s not doing a good job catching up on them either. Therefore he sighs and hopes that he can find another way to prove to Richie he’d never accuse him of something like that. ‘Whatever, just go first already.’

‘Fine but turn around okay?’

Eddie listens to him, back towards Richie and the jump off, though he doesn’t really understand the request. With Richie comes a lot of flair, and he was more or less been prepared for a joke about how Eddie got to confirm how big his dick is in reality.

He waits and listens carefully for the sounds of clothes being dropped on the ground, and he can’t stop his mind from secretly imagining how Richie looks like without them once he distinguishes it. Eddie shakes his head, scolding his own mind.

The next few moments are filled with raspy breaths originating from Richie, footstep sounding further away and then closer again in an erratic pattern. He must be scared of the jump. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would ask to jump in at the same time, but since Richie asked Eddie not to turn around, he won’t.

‘If you don’t jump in the next five minutes,’ Eddie teases, the way Richie used to tease him, ‘I’ll push you in.’ A second later Eddie hears Richie’s loud whooping as he plunges down into the dark water.

Eddie spins, the only thing greeting him the dark with very little light clearing up his path, from the moon. He’s having a hard time to even see where the cliff ends, and he can’t disguise Richie in the water at all.

‘I’m coming in’, he yells to the void, in case Richie can’t discern his body in time and needs to move out of the way. He takes off his clothes, goosebumps erupting on his skin, and folds his pants and t-shirt up neatly, touching the ground with his hands to find a dry spot to lay them on. The air is cold, and so Eddie refuses to linger on top any longer than he has to.

He jogs up to the ledge and darts off before his mind can conjure up the thousands of things that can go wrong from swimming in the dark this late at night. His body flies through the air and connects with the water in one swoop, a pit of glee bursting in Eddie’s stomach. Jumping from the quarry equals freedom, a hot summer day and love for all of his friends, but in particular Richie.

Eddie keeps his head underwater until his lungs burn, eyes closed and allowing himself to just feel all the sensations. Then, something tickles the back of his leg, and the peaceful moment is over. He kicks back the surface, away from the spot where he could swear something touched him, and searches around for Richie.

Richie, with his wet black hair clinging to his forehead, strands of it sticking out in every direction, and his droplet covered glasses, roving more of Eddie’s heart each minute they’re near each other. He’s never looked more beautiful, and Eddie has never had to fight the urge to kiss him as much as he does now.

‘See, I told you I wouldn’t stare Eds, I can’t even see anything with all these splatters on my glasses.’

The moon reflects on the water, so that it’s impenetrable, and neither Rich nor Eddie can look down and see their lower body parts.

What Eddie can see is enough anyway, Richie’s shoulders and part of his chest hold Eddie’s attention, and he forgets to respond to Richie’s comment.

His eyes land on a dark bruise, just on the bottom of Richie’s neck, a remnant of their fight with Pennywise earlier that day. Without thinking, without standing still on the consequences of such an action, Eddie swims closer, stretches his arm out, and lingers his fingertips over the bruise. He carefully positions his body to not touch any other body part of Richie’s except for his fingers on his neck.

He makes an inquisitive noise, thumb stroking over the injury in what he hopes to be a calming matter. He physically can’t pull away, entranced with the way he moves and responds to him, trying but failing to get his fill of Richie clenched.

‘Eddie’, Richie whispers, scared to break the silence and the intimate moment. ‘It’ll be fine. And hey, at least he didn’t do anything to my dick.’

‘Yeah, would have been a shame if it were to become even smaller.’

Richie snorts, retaliating the jest with a wave of dirty water aimed at Eddie.

Eddie gasps, spitting out a bit of water that managed to sneak into his mouth. ‘Oh you’re on.’

The two of them chase each other, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were both naked, Eddie would have thrown his entire body weight in the game to push Richie underwater. As it stands, they just splash back and forth until they’re exhausted and the remnants of their laughter dies out, barely enough energy left to stay afloat side by side.

‘Did you have this much fun with Bryan?’ Eddie asks, a bit envious. He hates how he’s still stuck on the Bryan thing, hates that his mind keeps popping images of them doing the exact same thing only to end it with a kiss.

‘What?’

‘With Bryan, the guy you did all that other stuff with?’

‘Oh no, me and Bryan – we were never together like that.’ Back at the hotel room, Eddie figured that that was a ploy to distract Bev, something Richie just said because he couldn’t comfortably admit the real intent of their relationship. But he’s never lied to Eddie, and his eyes, magnified by his glasses, seem so sincere, Eddie has no other option but to believe him. ‘I-I’m- some other guy already has that place all taken up.’

Eddie stupid, oblivious and dense and everything in between. He knows Richie isn’t talking about him, he knows he could never be the guy Richie would hold all hope out for – he also secretly hopes it’s none of the losers -, but he wants to be so bad. Just one time, just one kiss and he’d be sated enough to let go of his feral behavior towards any potential love interest Richie might have. Just one time.

‘Richie’, Eddie starts, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He’s taking a huge risk, by foreseeing a rejection but hoping that Richie won’t drop him as a friend because of this. If Eddie doesn’t do this, he’ll never stop wondering what it feels for their lips to meet. He’ll never get over Richie because he never got to experience any with him.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He risks releasing his lip.

Richie is visibly shocked. ‘What? What the fuck? Eddie is this a joke?’

The joke is, as usual, all on Eddie who regrets ever opening his mouth in the first place. He could try to laugh it off, say that it was a joke, but that would mean that he pretends to make a jest out of something Richie has struggled with for his entire life. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Left with no other options but to further dig his own grave, Eddie decides to be honest. At least that means he gets to keep part of his integrity.

‘No Richie of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m sorry. Look I like you but it’s obviously one sided and I just wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you but it was a stupid request and I shouldn’t have asked you that. Oh god, I never even asked if you were dating someone –‘

‘Eds?’

‘- Fuck can we please forget I said anything so we can still hang out?’

‘Eddie?’

‘What?’

‘Yes. Please kiss me.’

Eddie gapes with his mouth open, struggling for breath and for words. He’s half convinced he misinterpreted the words, but his tilted head proves otherwise. Eddie doesn’t question it further, counting his lucky start for once, and leaning in to his emotions and Richie, breaching the water to get to him.

Their kiss is surprisingly gentle for the ungovernable lead up prior to it. Richie’s lips taste like lake water, but deeper underneath lies a tang of something distinctively Richie. Eddie can’t wait to devour him whole once he’s cleaned up. Their lips move together in tandem, a perfect harmony that for once neither are willing to break.

They pull back, Richie’s arms circling Eddie’s waist, and he smiles. His smile mixed with the love stricken gleam in his eyes, mysteriously tells Eddie that Richie feels the exact same way he does. His chest caves with happiness.

‘I like you too, if it wasn’t obvious. A lot more than Bryan.’

‘For the love of God can we never mention that again? It’s embarrassing. No, Hush’, Eddie says urgently, covering Richie’s mouth with his palm when he opens his mouth to conjure up another joke.

‘Fine,’ Richie says while pulling away from Eddie’s hand. ‘How about we talk about something else then? How the fuck are we supposed to get to our clothes?’

#my writing #reddie imagine #reddie fic #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #richie and eddie #adult losers #it chapter two imagine #eddie x richie

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orwocolor · 3 years

Text

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Five

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Nighmares

Summary: Your friend is there for you when you need him, and maybe you’re starting to feel something more.

Author’s Note: IT FEELS GREAT TO BE BACK!!! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym.

“Y/N! I’m back!” a shout comes from the hall and a loud bang of the door closing shut announces Gwil’s return.

You struggle to get to your feet but the moment your weight shifts to your injured ankle, you hiss through gritted teeth. There is not much left to do but to remain on the couch, nonchalantly sprawled out as if the position you’ve gotten into was intended.

“Erm, Y/N?” Gwil makes a move to the kitchen when he stops dead in his tracks as he spots you lying on the couch, your legs swung over the armrest in an awkward angle.

“Did you get the ice cream?” you ask innocently to divert his attention from the obvious mishap you’ve managed to cause in his 10-minute-long absence.

His brows furrow and he licks his lips before he responds. “Yes, I did. Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard about the new yoga position?” The whole situation is so bizarre, you can’t prevent a small giggle from escaping you. “Lying sideways on a couch with one arm squashed between your body and the cushion, and with your legs hanging over the armrest in a way to successfully feel the blood in your legs draining away so that you’re sure you’re gonna have pins and needles in them afterwards for hours, well… That’s the good stuff right there, man.” Your eyes sparkle with glee and, to continue in your blatant lie, you mean to throw your hair over your shoulder as if to imply there’s no room for arguing and that the conversation is over, but as you jerk your head, instead of your hair flawlessly flying around your face in a perfect way, it gets stuck underneath your shoulder and you smack your head against a throw pillow.

Despite your burst of giggles being muffled by the pillow, your laughter is evident in the way your body uncontrollably shakes on the coach.

Gwilym is laughing now too and after quickly discarding the grocery bags at the kitchen island, he rushes to your side. With one of his strong arms supporting your back and his warm fingers taking a hold of your hand, he helps you stand up, an occasional giggle escaping either his or your lips, and sets you down again. He takes a seat right next to you and throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows arched in question and a glint of amusement still present in his blue eyes.

You let your gaze rest on his face for a moment before you spit out the truth.

“Okay, fine. I just wanted to get us some popcorn and I couldn’t recall where exactly I left it the last time the girls were over for a movie night. So, I figured I might as well find it myself. But I couldn’t find the bloody crutches…” you trail off and throw your arms in a dismissive gesture.

“Although I bet the picture of you jumping on one foot just to promptly crash down on the sofa must have been hilarious,” he starts and nudges you with his shoulder, “you should have waited for me, I’m sure I would be able to find the popcorn myself,” he continues softly and brushes a strand of your hair that has fallen to your eyes.

“Well, you were already getting the ice cream I’d sent you for, so.” You shrug and shake your head. “I guess,” you pause and look around your living room, which is uncharacteristically tidied up, the result of Gwilym’s frequent visits he’s been paying you every day since the accident. Your life hasn’t been the same since he moved next door, has it? “Nevermind.” You give him a smile, but it’s not quite reaching your eyes. “What are we having for dinner?” you ask instead, hoping he’ll drop the previous subject.

That earns you a wide grin from Gwil and you release a sigh of relief. He promptly stands up to rummage through the bags he’s brought with him; the rustle of his socks against the carpet has become a familiar sound by now.

“Ta da!” He turns around to reveal two packages of frozen vegetables.

“Really?” You can’t believe this man. “Really?” you echo with disbelief seeping to your voice.

“What?” he tries defensively. “Ever since our journey to the hospital, I’ve been craving some good ol’ risotto. And since you didn’t let me cook it for you that night from our makeshift ice-packages, I had to go and buy new ones.” He moves to the kitchen area and starts storing various items into their designated places. God, a week in your kitchen and he already knows what needs to be put where, probably orienting there much better than you do.

“The vegetable had been out of the freezer for several hours so by the time we got back, it had turned into a mush and you know it,” you shout at him to the kitchen, your voice louder so as to howl down the kitchen cabinets being open and closed again.

Gwilym’s head peers over the kitchen island.

“Spoilsport.”

“I’ve still got one hand that’s alright so don’t be surprised when a pillow lands on your head,” you say matter-of-factly but reach for remote control to turn on the telly.

“I doubt that, I know your aim,” he answers after a minute, busying himself with the meal preparations.

Oh, really? Well, in that case…

You grab one of the cushions and toss it in his direction, but it plops down on the kitchen tiles, a good six feet away from him. Gwil barks out a laugh and you groan in defeat, but when he bends down to lift the pillow from the floor and get even with you, it’s your turn to laugh out loud when the pillow almost knocks down a rubber tree standing in the opposite corner of the room.

“I’m making dinner, okay, I’m distracted!” he explains, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“And I’m injured,” you retort in the same manner.

“Peace?” he asks softly and arches his eyebrows.

“Peace,” you agree, smiling, and let him get back to cooking dinner for you.

Mindlessly flicking through the channels, you watch Gwil from the corner of your eye as he turns on the stove and tosses the vegetable into a frying pan, the water with rice already bubbling in the background.

You get lost in your thoughts as they swirl in your mind with pictures of the last couple of days.

Gwilym’s kept his promise and has been coming over to your place practically every day. Apart from cooking and keeping your flat clean and tidy, which is something you will be forever grateful for because with both of those chores you just can’t be particularly bothered even when your ankle isn’t protesting with every little movement, Gwilym has been most of all keeping you company. Jane and Charlotte have popped by every now and then to help you with showering (the bloody tube, why not just install a shower stall?) or to spend the movie night at yours on one occasion, for which Gwil has always retired to his own apartment, not meaning to intrude on your tradition.

One night, he also invited Ben to come over, of course with your permission, and all three of you played several board games. You’ve tried to repay Gwil’s care by helping him run his lines for his auditions. At first, you were absolutely awful, giggling and feeling warmth spreading across your cheeks, but soon enough you got the hang of it and managed to read the lines with pretended professionalism.

You and Gwil have also started watching several TV shows, especially the cooking and home design ones, which were the best to turn your brains off to (and occasionally doze off to) in the late evenings. Being the gentleman he is, Gwil refused to join you in your bed at first and watched the screen of your laptop form the chair snuggled in the corner of your bedroom. But eventually, he yielded to your pleading eyes and stubborn refusal to press play until he stopped being so silly. Nonetheless, he has always made sure to lie carefully on the covers of your bed even though you were tucked in so that there has remained a duvet between your bodies. Every now and then he fussed for a minute with pillows that were supporting your foot to make sure that your ankle remained elevated just to give you a sheepish smile when he noticed you were watching him with amusement.

You’re smiling now too at the picture of his lovely eyes adorned with small wrinkles in the outer corners. Holding the TV remote still in your hand, you realise you can’t find anything of interest and so you turn the TV off again.

Besides, the dinner is almost ready based on the delicious smell.

“So, who was it?” Jane asks matter-of-factly as she stretches her arms for you to lean on.

“That was Gwil.” Grabbing her forearms, you carefully swing your injured leg over the bathtub rim. “I must have mentioned him,” you add quickly when Jane cocks her perfectly shaped eyebrow. You avoid the eye-contact, suddenly focused on making sure the knot on the towel wrapped around your torso is tied properly.

“No, you haven’t. All you said was that your neighbour had been taking care of you.” Slinking your arm around her shoulders, you shift your weight and get yourself out of the bathtub completely. You pull your face at the odd sensation in your ankle, the pain you have been gradually becoming used to. “I only assumed you were talking about Mrs Thompson from 3A. You’re not the type to befriend your neighbours so eagerly.”

You let the last remark slip and berate yourself inwardly for not telling Jane the identity of your nurse/cleaner/companion sooner. Now it looks like you have kept it from her because there was a reason to. Which there was not. Nuh-uh.

You could have been spared of this conversation, had they not bumped into each other at your door as Jane was letting herself in and Gwil was leaving for his own flat. If only you hadn’t been so selfish, happy to be in his company, and would have let him go a few minutes sooner.

“So, who is he?” Jane presses and takes another towel from a nearby handle to wrap it around your shoulders.

No longer having the strength to keep upright, you perch yourself on the bathtub edge, the cold porcelain causing goose bumps on your thighs. “I already told you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Look, he’s just a friend, okay?” you finally give up. “He’s helping me with cooking and tidying up and overall, he’s just keeping me company. He’s currently looking for a job, which means that when he’s not auditioning for a role, he’s usually home anyway, so why not hang out together? So yes, he’s my friend.”

“I’m your friend, too, you know?” Jane offers.

“But you’ve got a full-time job and live several bus and tube stops away, not next door. It’s just a matter of proximity.”

“Aaand, what kind of proximity are we talking about here?” Jane’s eyes glint mischievously, and you spray her with droplets of water that have been clinging to your fingers. “Fine, fine,” she laughs and before handing you your bathrobe, she wipes her slightly damp face into it, which earns her a displeased groan from you.

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” she continues once she settles you on the coach, “but you can bet I’m telling Charlotte.”

You roll your eyes, but do not argue. The moment Jane makes up her mind, there’s not much you can do about it.

“Speaking of Charlotte, anything new about her birthday party?”

“I thought you would never ask!” Her eyes sparkle and she pulls out a thick notebook from her purse. “I’ve got so many ideas. Okay, hear me out. Glitter.”

“No,” you laugh out loud.

“Come on!”

“No, I’ve got the veto and I’m exercising it right now.”

“Urgh, fine.” She turns several pages. No way the idea revolving around glitter has been so elaborated.

“A movie night party?”

“We all have had a movie-themed birthday party. And I think Charlotte’s had two already.”

“Okay, not a movie night.” She crosses out the line in her notepad and is leafing through it some more.

“Jungle.”

“Jungle?”

“Yeah, jungle. Remember, when she had visited the Panama islands, she just couldn’t stop gushing over it. Her flat is already filled with hundreds of plants so as for the decoration, we don’t have to do much. Just a couple of balloons, fruity drinks and sweets, maybe we can set the thermostat to a higher temperature. And if we don’t manage to clean it up there in time, we can say it’s just part of the décor, right?”

“I kinda like it,” you admit with a smile and Jane’s winning grin seals the deal. “Yeah, I can imagine it. Yellow and dark green balloons, some more plants, fruity drinks. I’m on board.”

“Great! And it’s not going to be so expensive either, which is more than appreciated. By the way, how are you doing financially? Is there anything I can do in this respect?”

“No, there’s no need, thank you,” you wave her off. “The sick leave is not so bad, and I’ve still got the money my grandpa left me.”

“Wait, you’ve still got that?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t figure out what to spend it on. I’ve got everything I need; you see. But I guess it’s losing its worth as time goes by. I should invest it rather sooner than later.”

“Sounds right to me.” She gives it some thought. “Oh, maybe we could throw a massive birthday party for Charlotte!”

“Look, I love you both, but no,” you giggle.

“It was worth a try,” she chirps. “We’ll plan the details next time I come around to help you shower?”

“Actually, I’m getting much better with the crunches; the wrist has almost healed. So next time, it’s gonna be without the striptease for free for you, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, dang it, you’ll rob me of the highlight of my week.”

You look up from your laptop screen and give Gwil a questioning look as he enters your bedroom, dragging his bag and jacket behind him. He simply drops them on the floor and crashes down next to you. Promptly closing his eyes and releasing a deep sigh, he goes motionless.

“That bad?” you ask after a few seconds of silence.

“The worst,” he groans and drags his hand down his face.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back and rub your palm against his shoulder. He peers with one eye over his splayed hand at you and the line between his brows deepens.

“It was awful,” he huffs and proceeds to stare at the ceiling as his fingers remain on his jaw.

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask and place your laptop on the floor before you twist on your side and give Gwil your complete attention.

"Yes,” he responds eventually. “Or no. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ve got time, and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too.”

You mean to give him a reassuring hug but because of your position on the bed, it ends up looking as if you were cuddling up to him. Once you realise your mistake, you shuffle a few inches back. Your palm, however, warm and reassuring, remains on Gwil’s chest.

“It was awful,” he echoes and turns his head to look into your eyes. “Ben and I had been waiting ages for the casting director to show up and when he did, he wasn’t ready at all, kept calling me ‘Will’, yelled at me for not reading my lines when it actually wasn’t my cue, overall dismissed my approach to the character and then he just waved me off. This time, he didn’t even bother to tell me I would be hearing from them soon.”

Your thumb starts drawing soothing circles on Gwilym’s chest as any words of reassurance die in your throat.

“I’d been nervous about that audition the whole day and for what reason?”

“Well,” you try, sure that nothing you will just say can elevate his mood. You have found out a few days ago, that the best cure for Gwil’s brooding isa small glass of something stronger and good night sleep. But you could not exactly stay silent. “If it was really the worst, if you really reached the deep, deep bottom, then it can only get better, right?” You nudge him gently and give him a small smile which he reciprocates.

“Right,” he sighs, and his gaze falls again.

“Shall I get out the tumblers?”

“Not really,” he pauses and ponders over it. “Can we just watch something?”

“Sure!” you agree eagerly and dive down to retrieve your laptop. Quickly searching for a festive episode of Bake Off, you place the laptop on your thighs, rotating it so that Gwil can see, and after a few minutes of making up your mind, you press yourself to Gwil’s side. Although you are aware that it is going to take some time for the clouds on his brows to evaporate, a warm touch might help at least a bit.

After the first Bake Off challenge, Gwil snakes his arms beneath you and wraps it around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. And several minutes later, he feels exhaustion creeping up at him, the stressful events of the day finally taking their toll. He tries to fight the sleep, but he knows it is a losing battle.

A heavy weight of darkness falls on your chest and pins you down. You make an attempt to take a deep breath, but the invisible rock crashes you down. Pushing your arms upwards, you try to fight the suffocating darkness, but your palms are met with cold emptiness. Your mouth falls open and a strangled whimper escapes you, then another, until you’re screaming at the top your lungs despite making no sound at all. Your blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding loudly is cut through with a voice calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You jerk yourself to sit upright in your bed, gasping for breath with eyes wide open. You pull a face at the pain shooting in your wrist and ankle.

A pair of warm arms wrap around your torso, fingers gently stroke your sides and every slow caress wipes the god-awful nightmare far away.

“You’re good, everything is alright, you’re not alone, I’m here,” Gwil keeps muttering into your hair as he presses you to his side, his embrace firm, letting you know that everything he says is true. Taking a deep breath, you burrow your head into the crook of his neck. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but you blink them away and if one or two teardrops fall down your cheeks, they disappear on Gwil’s t-shirt, turning the material one shade darker, which no one can see anyway in the blackness-filled bedroom.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper almost inaudibly against Gwilym’s chest once you calm down and at first, you’re not even sure whether he has heard you.

After a beat of silence, you hear the soft murmur of his voice. “Oh, darling, you have nothing to apologise for. What do you need? A glass of water? Maybe I should turn on the lights?”

“No, no, just –” you take a shaking breath, “just don’t go,” you breathe out eventually.

“Never,” he says and plants a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

Next morning, a ray of sunshine tickles your nose. You make a face, your eyes squeezing and nose scrunching up, and shuffle further away from the window to find retreat in a shadow. You slowly open your eyes and feel the dryness in your throat. Last night surges forward in your thoughts and you are filled with mixed feelings. Loneliness, shame, connection, relief, content.

Rolling over, you almost lie down on Gwilym’s hand, his arm stretched out before him, crossing the gap between your bodies, as soft snores leave his mouth every few seconds. His sleeping state allows you to take a proper look at his face. His piercing dark blue eyes are usually those that capture your attention but now when they are hidden behind the eyelids, you get the opportunity to inspect his face more carefully. Your eyes follow the lines of his prominent nose and cheekbones, spotting the birthmark on his right cheek, and fall on his pink lips, which are slightly open in his sleep. You have to smile; he looks utterly adorable. And you are positively grinning when he hums and smacks his lips.

“Good morning,” you whisper softly in case he has not woken up yet. But an almost inaudible groan confirms your suspicion.

He blinks away his sleep and gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before his gaze falls on your face.

“Good morning,” he replies and brings his outstretched arm towards you to let his hand rub gently your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you admit truthfully and give him a smile. Meanwhile, your hand clasps over his. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he says and looks up at you through his eyelashes.

You only nod but remain silent as you relish in the peaceful moment. None of you dares to move, certain that once you do so, the spell under which you both are will break. But at the same time, you long to bring him closer to you, to cross the invisible wall that is between you, the wall built from unspoken truths and confessions. However, you also realise how precarious it is to give in to that thought. The analogy of playing with fire comes to your mind but you frown inwardly, not entirely certain it fits. No, you feel the pull and you are sure so does he, the intangible power bringing you to one another. You picture yourself as a child playing with magnets and holding them in each hand to feel them inching closer. But both remain in safe vicinity so as not to jump in your hands and attach to each other. If that happens, you know there is no going back, the force too strong to allow them to let go on their own accord.

“Jane was here yesterday,” you whisper eventually, your head going around with everything that goes on in your mind.

“Yeah?” Gwilym’s eyes flick to yours.

“Yeah. We’re going to organise a jungle-themed party for Charlotte.”

“Nice,” he says appreciatively and gives you a smile. “You still wanna bake that cake? I think we could replace blueberries and raspberries with pineapple, kiwi, and maybe mango?”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you squeeze his hand that you still hold in yours. “I would love that.”

Taglist: @lv7867, @spacedustmazzello, @queenwouldyourathers, @im-an-adult-ish, @fairestkillerqueenofall, @supernaturalee, @queenlover05, @geek-and-proud, @chlobo6, @mrsmazzello, @timeandpixiedust, @kerouacsroad, @gwilsmainhoe

#gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee fic #multichapter #fluff #vee writes #*mine

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callieshipman · 3 years

Text

Virals Valentines

Written for the Virals Valentines Exchange using the stuck in an elevator prompt! This one is for our benevolent organiser herself, @themorrisislandpack! I hope you enjoy it <3

“Okay,” Tory says, after pressing every button on the elevator multiple times. “So. This is bad.”

Ben looks over at her, says nothing. His hands fly over the keyboard of his phone, probably texting Hi and Shelton begging for rescue from an awkward situation.

“You have service?” Tory asks, in lieu of anything better to say because they’ve been silent around each other the last few days.

“Mm.” Ben, chatty as ever.

Tory slides down the wall and sits on the floor opposite him, legs crossed. She can see her own reflection in the mirror, a shock of red hair and sharp, pale limbs. His is visible too, just the curve of his jaw and nose, slightly distorted by the glass.

The next few moments are painfully silent without the hum of the elevator in the background. Tory thinks she shouldn’t even be surprised that they’re stuck in an elevator on Valentine’s Day two days after an explosive fight. They have wolf DNA, this should be a walk in the park. Go figure.

“Just so you know,” she says dryly. “If you keep up the silent treatment, you’re actually second to last on the list of people I would want to share an elevator with.”

“Last is Chance?” Ben asks without looking up.

“Whitney,” she answers. Then, after a moment of thought, “Actually, you’re right. Fuck Chance.”

Ben cracks a smile for the first time in a few days, then snorts and ducks his head in the way she’s always thought is unfairly adorable. It makes her insides melt. Gross.

She can’t help but laugh too despite everything. Ben Blue is a massive dork, even when they’re fighting.

There’s another long pause, but it’s warmer than before. She can feel him enjoying her company.

“No reply from Hi and Shelton?”

“Nope.” Ben taps a few buttons. “God knows where they’ve run off to. For all we know, this is a scheme.”

Tory’s heart sinks, because oh no, they absolutely would do this. Sometimes being friends with Hi and Shelton is like being parents to unnaturally intelligent toddlers who are upset that mommy and daddy are fighting, and okay it’s time to steer away from that thought experiment, because it’s getting a little scary.

Ben, luckily, has not read her thoughts this time. It’s recently established Virals Policy that they all keep out of each other’s brains without express permission (or in an emergency, she has added, fully prepared to distort the definition of an emergency beyond recognition) before they completely ruin their relationships.

She thinks she and Ben might be on their way to that anyway. They’ve been avoiding each other for days over something stupid as all hell, and she’s not sure how much longer she can grit her teeth through it.

But he still laughs at her jokes, and that has to count for something.

“They’re probably sending someone to rescue us now,” she says. Then, after thinking it through for approximately three seconds, “You’re still my best friend.”

Ben’s head flies up to look at her, and his expression softens into the one she likes best. He looks so fond again, and just a little bit amused, like he’s been waiting for her to cave. Maybe he has. She knows she’s stubborn as a mule when she wants to be, and they can read each other like a book even without the added bonus of literal mind reading.

“You’re mine too,” he says eventually. “And Hi and Shelton.”

Tory knows he’s only saying that to blunt the edges of the emotion, but he means it, and her heart melts.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she admits. “I really, really don’t.”

“Did you think we were going to break up?” Ben’s brow furrows. “Tory, I didn’t mean for it to turn into a thing.”

“No, you just mooned around sadly for three days until Shelton had to call me and ask what was up your ass!”

“That’s true,” Ben concedes, only sulking a little. “Poor Shelton. Hi just thought it was funny.”

“It was a little bit funny.”

“A little bit.” Ben is trying to hide a smile now, but she can feel it in her own head, a burst of warmth that spreads through her like a hot bath. “Okay, looking at if from your perspective-”

“I was totally right and you were being a clown?”

She’s just teasing him now, and he knows that. It’s part of the unspoken game they play with each other every time they fight and make up, poking fun at old wounds until they warm up to each other again and everything is just like it was before. It’s a ritual Tory sincerely enjoys once they’re done with the stupid fighting part.

“Alright, alright.” Ben rolls his eyes and stretches his legs out so that the tips of his scuffed shoes touch hers. “If we’re done with the fighting like petty teenagers, I hate to be the one to point it out, but we are still stuck in an elevator.”

Tory kicks the wall, and Ben laughs at her as it clangs and she swears.

“This is exactly like when we got stuck in those caves,” she says, fake morosely. “Enclosed space, no one around, smells bad.”

“At least there’s no rising water?”

“We’ll always have that,” she says dryly. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” Ben says gently. “I love you too. Stop talking like we’re going to die in a mall elevator though. Please.”

Tory doesn’t even have to consider this plea before the lights in the elevator suddenly flick back on, and then they’re moving downwards with a groaning sound that’s only marginally alarming after everything they’ve been through.

“Hey, look at that,” she says, turning to grin at him. “We live to see another day.”

Ben says nothing, but gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. Just so they know where they stand.

When the doors creak open, they’re greeted by a small crowd of maintenance guys looking mildly bored, and Hi and Shelton looking like they’ve just won the lottery.

“Heyyyyy guys!” Hi drawls as soon as the doors have fully opened. Then, to the maintenance men: “Thank you guys so much. They owe you their lives.”

“Shut it, dumbass,” Ben tells him, and he darts behind Shelton, still grinning.

After they’ve thanked the crew themselves, not at all trusting whatever Hi and Shelton have said to them, they converge on them, both grinning.

“You look cheery,” Shelton says. “When you went in there, we thought you might kill each other and the doors would just open on your bodies.”

“Imagine our concern when they didn’t open at all!” Hi takes a very loud sip through the straw of his smoothie cup. “I said we should call in Ella’s FBI contacts.”

“When did you get a smoothie?” Ben frowns. “Did you not get all my texts asking for help?”

“Of course we did,” Shelton says smoothly. “Actually, Hi can tell the next part, I don’t want to be the messenger for that.”

“Throw me under the bus like that.” Hi shakes his head. “Together five years and he throws it all away. Check this guy out.”

“I’m fine with being a widower,” Shelton says.

“You’re the worst. Ben and Tory, Bory if you will-”

“I will not,” Ben says.

“Whatever, I like it. We may have given it a few minutes before going to find help. We kind of, sort of, maybe thought if you were left in there a little longer you would stop fighting and killing our vibe?”

“Hiram.” Tory folds her arms.

“Goodbye, Shelton,” Hi says. “Don’t inform my mother of this until they’ve left the country.”

“It worked,” she admits, and then punches him in the arm for good measure.

“Thank god,” Shelton says, looking openly thrilled with himself. “That was excruciating. And on Valentine’s Day of all days!”

“We hate Valentine’s Day,” she says, at the same time as Ben rolls his eyes. “Couldn’t care less.”

“Don’t care, you fixed it, we can talk about something else whilst we’re watching Friends now.”

Ben lunges after Hi, who ducks away, shrieking about security cameras, and behind both of their backs, Tory mouths a thank you to Shelton.

#viralsvalentines #virals series

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the--highlanders · 3 years

Text

Rescue Plan

The Doctor is locked in a cell. Jamie pays him a visit.

on ao3.

The corridor was dark, damp, filled with a choking, musty odour. Jamie eyed the mossy patches that lined the walls, following their climb all the way up to the waterline mark where the rough bricks began to curve inwards to form the vaulted ceiling. This was a floodplain, he remembered with a shudder, and the cells were tucked away right in the fortress’ basement. His eyes slid unbidden over to the windows, set high on the corridor wall but just meeting the outside at ground level. The boots and cloak hems of passers-by flickered into view every so often, blocking out the weak rays of light that flowed in past the bars. It was all too easy to imagine water rushing in there instead, filling the cells and drowning their occupants. It would not – must not come to that.

When he drew closer, he found that the cell bars were misshapen with rust, black paint peeled away to reveal cores the colour of dried blood. Briefly, he wondered if a good, strong kick would be enough to cave them in. But there was a guard on the prison’s exit, and he knew that if he tried anything he would be thrown into the next cell over. It was not the time for that just yet. Best to save his ideas for later. He knelt down in front of the cell instead, wincing as his knees squelched against the algae that clung stubbornly to the floor.

The Doctor still did not seem to have noticed his arrival, lying curled on the bed with his face turned towards the wall. “Doctor,” Jamie hissed. “Doctor. Are ye awake?” A fine thing, he thought, to go to all this effort, only for the Doctor to sleep through his visit.

He twitched at the sound of Jamie’s voice, though, lifting his head from the pillow. “Mm. No, I’m not.” From the sluggish way he moved, Jamie guessed that he was lying, but he was alert quickly enough, rolling off the cot and hurrying over to kneel on the other side of the bars. The knees of his trousers were quickly soaked through by the moisture pooled in the mortar between the uneven cobblestones. He did not seem to notice, staring intently at Jamie. “What are you doing here?” he asked softly.

“Visiting you, of course,” Jamie retorted, unable to stop a touch of amusement creeping into his voice. “What else do ye think I’d be doin’ down here?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The Doctor bobbed forward a little, like he had forgotten there were bars between himself and Jamie. “Sightseeing?”

Jamie laughed at that, really, properly laughed, the sound echoing off the stone and metal around them. Somehow, he could not remember the last time he had laughed so freely. It could only have been a few days ago, but it felt far longer, the painful hours stretching out behind him into an infinity. He laughed all the harder for the unfamiliarity of the feeling, and then the Doctor was laughing too, shaking with it and rubbing at the corner of one eye.

The banging of metal on metal quietened them, both looking towards the staircase leading out of the prison. “Quiet down in there!” a guard shouted from behind the door, and they glanced at each other, ducking their heads in equal embarrassment and mirth.

But the laughter had gone, and Jamie’s smile had fallen away into something smaller. He realised too late that he had lifted one hand as if to press it against the Doctor’s, and he wrapped his fingers around the cell bars instead, his cheeks stinging. “I’ve missed ye.” The words came out far more heartfelt than he had intended. The Doctor nodded, tersely, awkwardly, and panic twisted its way through Jamie’s middle. Had he been too open, upset him somehow?”

But when the Doctor spoke, his voice was choked. “I miss you too,” he said quietly, then cleared his throat, adding “all of you. It’s terribly boring down here, you know.”

“Aye, I can imagine.”

“Are Ben and Polly alright?” The Doctor sat forwards, almost pressing his face between the bars. “I hope you three haven’t been getting yourselves into too much trouble.”

“No’ at all,” Jamie said, a smile twitching at his lips again. For the briefest of moments, he regretted lying to the Doctor – but then again, he thought, the Doctor’s definition of too much trouble was very different from most people’s. Surely they had a bit of wiggle room there. And causing a few problems was hardly getting themselves into trouble, anyway. “Lilla let us stay with them.”

“Oh, good, good.”

“We need ye, though.” It must be hard, he thought, for the Doctor to be stuck down here, unable to do anything. He looked bored enough, alright. But it was hard for them, too, more or less free to do as they pleased, and yet as a loss for what to do next. Pestering security guards and helping Lilla sneak posters onto back alley walls in the dead of night was one thing, but he knew that if the Doctor was with them, they would have far grander plans. “We cannae do it alone.”

“Of course you can,” the Doctor protested. “You’re perfectly capable, all three of you.”

“For little things, aye, but – this is different.”

“It isn’t, really -”

“It is!” Ducking his head, Jamie glanced up the stairs towards the door. Maybe this time it would twitch open, and the scowling face of the guard would appear through the crack. It had taken a heavy bribe to convince the jailer to let him in to begin with. To be thrown out now over something so small would be pointlessly idiotic. But the door did not move, and he was not unceremoniously tossed onto the street. Satisfied that he was safe, he leant forwards until his nose was almost brushing the Doctor’s, his voice dropping. “We need ye. Your ideas, an’ all the things ye know.”

“Jamie -”

“But we’ve got one thing planned,” Jamie carried on. “I mean -” Should he be truthful about it? Perhaps he should. After all, if everything went as wrong as Ben and Polly thought it might, they would not like to be dragged into taking responsibility for his mess. “I’ve got one thing planned. I’m going tae get ye out of here.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened, and he glanced around them, like he was expecting guards to emerge from the walls. “You can’t!” he hissed. “It’s far too dangerous.”

“We need ye,” Jamie insisted. “An’ anyway, if it all goes wrong, I’d rather be in here with ye.”

“This is no laughing matter, Jamie.”

“I’m no’ laughing.” Goodness, did the Doctor really want him to spell it out? He could not bring himself to say it to the Doctor’s face any more clearly. That he would rather be locked up with him than go around freely without him. It sounded simple enough in his head, but to speak it… “It’s going tae work,” he said instead. Best to go for total confidence.

“They need you up there.” The Doctor’s hands were reaching past the bars now, patting at his sides and shoulders, like he was trying to memorise the shape of him before their time was up. “I need you up there. It’s no good both of us being locked up.”

Again, Jamie studied the rust-encrusted bars. It would be so simple if he could just push his way through them. Then the Doctor would have no choice but to escape with him, to take his hand and run. There would be none of this worrying over whether or not it was the right thing to do. “Ben an’ Polly will be fine up there,” he said. “They’ll get us both out if things go wrong.”

“Jamie,” the Doctor said again, this time with more weary affection than exasperation. “You are one of the most infuriatingly stubborn people that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“I’m hardly more stubborn than ye yourself.”

“Maybe so.” Leaning forward, the Doctor pressed his forehead between the bars, and Jamie hesitated. So much or so little could be contained within the simple gesture. Was it a request for him to meet the Doctor in the middle, or just tiredness? Was it wishful thinking making him wonder whether the Doctor was asking for some sort of contact? It must be the prison, he thought, making him think such things. Here, below the city, with only the quiet and the cold for company, it seemed so easy to lean forward, like they would forget about it when things returned to normal.

He dipped his head forward – hesitated – then shifted forwards properly to sit up a little higher and rest his forehead against the Doctor’s. Their faces were close enough that their noses bumped together, and he closed his eyes, unable to bear the possibility of catching a glimpse of the Doctor’s expression. But he had not moved away, he told himself, which had to count for something. The Doctor’s hands were still on his shoulders, and he reached up in return, half-cupping the Doctor’s cheek in his palm.

A knock at the door made him jerk backwards, throwing himself away from the bars with such vigour that he almost toppled over backwards. The jailer was standing at the top of the stairs, rattling the keys at him. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

“I’m comin’.” Dragging himself upright, Jamie took the Doctor’s hands as he went, pulling him to his feet too. “It’s gonnae be alright,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t worried.”

“Aye, well.” Something funny had settled in his stomach. Embarrassment at thinking the Doctor might be worried, maybe – or trepidation at the thought that the Doctor had such confidence in him to be unworried. “Good. I’ll send word when – ye know – when it’s time.”

Lifting Jamie’s hands towards his mouth, the Doctor pressed his face against the backs of them. His lips brushed over his knuckles, and Jamie froze, his heart thrown out of his chest and into his throat. The Doctor either knew exactly what he had just done, or had no idea – and he could not decide which of the two options would be worse. But now, of all times, he could not dwell on it. The jailer was still rattling the keys, and the Doctor had stood back to look at him expectantly, and Ben and Polly would be waiting for him above, and staging a rebellion was absolutely not the right time to think about such things. Maybe later, if – when – he had broken the Doctor out of his cell, he could think about it. Or maybe there would be no need to think at all, just time to hug the Doctor and feel the all-encompassing simplicity of being with him. It would not matter, if he managed to get the Doctor free. What the Doctor thought of him and how he thought about the Doctor and where they might be taking themselves. None of that would matter.

Reluctantly, he dragged his hands away. “I’ll see ye soon, aye?”

“Yes.” The Doctor folded his hands over his chest, his eyes gleaming. “Soon.”

#second doctor #two/jamie #fanfic archive #my writing #i know this is a day late i fell asleep while watching a movie last night & when i woke up i was too out of it to do anything afgdjhk

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star-spangledstud · 4 years

Text

ROAD TRIP

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!) reader

Summary: You take the boys on a road trip. Steve has a big surprise.

Warning(s): fluff, an overload of sappy goodness and a snoring Bucky.

Word count: 3700-ish.

Just as the sun reaches its peak and the wind sends humid blasts of air through the air-conditioning system, Steve glances in his rear-view mirror for the fifth time in three hours. From a distance, he can barely make out the car that trails behind him along the highway. The shiny black vehicle behind his is surrounded in a cloud of sand much similar to the one that follows his own car, and slightly obscures his view.

Even though he can hardly make out more than the outline of Sam’s car, his eyes are perfectly capable of inspecting and basking in the glorious view ahead of him. For hours it’s been nothing but sandy panes and distant canyons stretched across the horizon along the mostly deserted highway. It’s an incredible contrast to the busy streets of Brooklyn he’s so used to seeing and for the first time in months, he finds himself able to relax without having to think about missions and lurking alien threats.

He knows it was your idea to take the cross-country road trip with just the four of you, and the only reason why he even agreed to tag along in the first place was exactly that. Steve doesn’t think of himself as a particularly good driver, but with the roads mostly deserted and his best friend right beside him, he feels mostly chilled out, excited even, and he’s glad he came, because the scenery would have been lost on him if he hadn’t.

Speaking of best friends, Bucky is snoring so loud in the passenger’s seat his voice almost completely overtakes the sound of the mellow tones of Mac Demarco’s voice on the radio. Bucky has been fast asleep all morning, and even with the sun shining directly through the halfway opened window and onto his face, he looks extremely peaceful. A tad uncomfortable perhaps in his current position but peaceful, nonetheless. To this day, seeing his best friend content brings a feeling of happiness to Steve’s insides that he can’t quite put his finger on. It brings him a sense of relief that he’d been searching for years.

Even though Steve can barely hear the radio, he does hear the honking coming from behind him seconds after passing by an exit sign. He quickly glances in the mirror again and is immediately greeted with flashing headlights that shine bright, white light into his eyes. He signals back by flashing his taillights a few times in a row, and contemplates whether he should wake Bucky up now or let him sleep until they get off the road, but decides not to wake him until he pulls off the highway into a mostly abandoned parking lot that overlooks a field of cacti and dried grass blinking in the sun.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Steve says with a cheeky smile while he nudges him gently, “bathroom break.”

Bucky groans and extends his arms above his head, his eyes falling on the gas station in front of the car. He watches an elderly gentleman entering the gas station wearing a cowboy hat and leather boots and rolls his eyes while he opens his door.

He steps out of the car and makes a straight line for the bathrooms, leaving Steve standing with his arm leaning against the burning rooftop of the shiny black vehicle as he waits for you and Sam. Apparently, Bucky is not a morning person, even though it’s technically already way past noon, and hopes his friend gets a coffee before getting back in the car.

Steve smiles brightly when you exit the passenger side, and his smile grows even bigger when you offer him a wave after stretching out your limbs. Sam locks the car and follows you over to where Steve is standing, the two of your engrossed in a discussion about which flavor of Ben & Jerry’s tastes better. Both of your sandal-clad feet drag across the sandy road, gravel rolling beneath your toes and bouncing off into the sea of sand like flying fish while you’re busy trying to convince Sam Chunky Monkey is an awful first choice. Cookie dough is clearly the best flavor.

“Pee break,” you explain when you fall in line with Steve’s step, “Where’s Buck?”

“Pee break. He beat you to the punch,” Steve says, grinning as he watches you enter the shade.

“She had four bottles of water,” Sam explains when you walk ahead of the guys, “your girl is thirsty as hell, my friend.”

He pulls down his sunglasses and winks at Steve, but Steve doesn’t reply. He punches his friend in the arm instead and begins to follow after you as he raises his middle finger in Sam’s general direction.

He waits for you to finish going to the bathroom by the snack isle, and proceeds to watch you in amusement as you pick out two bags of sour candy and a bag of salt and vinegar chips from the spinning rack. Sam and Bucky are outside pumping gas while the two of you scour the isles of the gas station, picking up bottles of cold water, a watermelon Slurpee for you and more snacks along the way.

Steve takes in your appearance when you take a stand next to him in line. Your skin is glowing, highlighted cheekbones flashing brightly in his direction when you turn your head the other way. The Slurpee you’re sipping on tints your lips a soft shade of red, and your eyes sparkle when you meet his longing gaze.

“You tired of driving yet?” you ask as the two of you get in line for check out.

Steve drapes a heavy, glistening arm over your shoulder and kisses the top of your head. His lips, soft and warm against your skin, still give you goosebumps every time they come in contact with you.

“I wanna ride with you next,” you mumble when he kisses your lips, batting your lashes at him in a way you know he can’t resist.

It was your idea to ride with Sam in the first place, claiming you wanted to get to know him better while simultaneously allowing Steve and Bucky some quality best friend time. Of course you didn’t know Bucky would be out like a light the entire drive, and you secretly missed the company of your boyfriend already. You couldn’t be happier when he agreed to take the trip with you, and so far it’s exceeded all your expectations and then some. Hell, even Bucky looks like he’s enjoying himself.

“How long before we get to the motel?” He asks when you place everything in your arms on the counter.

“Three hours or so,” you say after greeting the cashier, “there’s a diner on the same street where we can eat.”

“Hmm,” he kisses your cheek and whips out his credit card before you find yours in your cross-body bag, “my girl’s done her research.”

“Of course,” you beam when the cashier hands you the bags, “it was my idea after all.”

Sam gladly trades you for Bucky. According to him, the Ben & Jerry’s discussion brought a cliff between your relationship that can’t possibly be fixed, and he needs time away from you to think about the future of your companionship. You laugh and flip him off as you gather your belongings from the backseat of his car, and skip happily to Steve, who’s leaning against the trunk while he waits for you.

“Forgot my sunglasses,” you say between pecks, “I’ll go get them real quick.”

But he grabs a hold of your arm before you can turn around and from his back pocket appears a pair of black Ray-Bans. He gently pushes them onto your nose, and ten minutes later, the four of you are back on the road.

The motel you booked earlier that morning - talk about last minute - is located in an old mining town on the edge of the desert. From the window of the room you share with Steve, you can see the bright neon sign flashing against a background of tumbleweeds and cacti illuminated by the undergoing sun. You plop down onto the king bed, hand rubbing your stomach after the heavy meal the four of you just shared while Steve grabs your overnight bags from the trunk of the car.

“Come here,” you whine with outstretched grabby hands when he finally shuts the door behind him.

He chuckles, but follows your command, getting on the bed until he’s hovering over your body, warm breath scented like vanilla milkshake fanning across your face.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, “for coming with me.”

“Of course,” he says, “I wanted to come and so did the guys. You reminded us how important it is to take time off, even with our jobs.”

You were terrified of the thought of dating an Avenger when you first met Steve in your local coffee shop in Brooklyn. You’d seen them on the news plenty of times of course, but had never come face to face with one of the mighty heroes until then. The two of you hit it off right away, and it didn’t take him very long to ask you to be his girlfriend. You remember the day like it was yesterday, and remember even more vividly how scared you were before meeting the rest of the team for the first time.

It was your idea to take the road trip, because you wanted to get closer to the people who Steve trusted with his life. You liked all of them and wanted everyone to come along, but sadly not everyone on the team could get vacation time simultaneously, so instead of bringing the whole gang along, it was just the four of you. You’d been driving for two days straight now, and so far everything had gone smoothly.

You’ve grown to love Sam, because the two of you can just bicker about absolutely nothing for hours on end, and you share the same dry, sarcastic humor. Bucky was harder to read in the beginning, but after seeing you and Steve together, he’s grown to love you like a sister, and you him like a brother just the same.

“I know how much you love your job,” you say, “I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to rip you away from it.”

He shakes his head, “of course not, baby. Like I said, I wanted to come. I enjoy spending time with you, and I can’t wait to spend two weeks with you and my best friends in a cabin by a beautiful lake.”

“I hope you know I’m going to push you in the water,” you smile.

“Baby,” he snorts, “do you really think you can move me even an inch? I’m the mighty Captain America.”

“You may be Captain America, but I’ll catch you off guard and have you soaked in no-time.”

He kisses you deeply, savoring the sweet taste of your cherry Chap-stick and the scent of your vanilla body splash. Then, he gets up from the bed, taking your arms and pulling you up with him.

“What are you doing?” you ask, frowning when he slips on his sneakers.

“We’re going for a walk,” he explains, “come on.”

You follow him outside, enjoying the lingering heat on your bare arms when the two of you walk around the premises of the motel. He grabs your hand and holds it, thumb rubbing gentle circles over your skin that leave you feeling warm from the inside as well. The two of you are silent when you walk, the only sound audible being the gravel beneath your feet and the occasional car driving along the road behind you.

An hour later, you return to your room and within minutes of your heads hitting the pillows, both of you are knocked out cold.

The cabin you rented for two weeks is even more beautiful in person than in the pictures you found of it online. It’s the perfect mixture of modernistic architecture with classic log cabin vibes, which are created by the wooden log exterior and glass panels that give a perfect living room view out onto the glistening lake. Inside, the interior is eclectic, futuristic furniture with deer heads mounted to the walls. You and Steve share the master bedroom upstairs, while Bucky and Sam each have their own room on the ground floor. There’s a fireplace in the living space that is connected to the kitchen, which you immediately begin to fill with the groceries you picked up shortly before your arrival.

Remembering you have to feed three hungry men who eat like bears, you immediately start dinner while the three of them explore the surrounding area. Sam is particularly excited about renting a boat, and you’re not opposed to spending some time out on the water yourself. You decide to make something simple, pasta Alfredo, and make sure to place a handful of beers in the freezer to chill while you cook. Steve and Bucky may not be able to get drunk, but they can still enjoy a cold one.

After dinner, Bucky and Sam disappear again for another walk with just the two of them, and when you voice your concerns regarding them getting lost in the woods, they - including Steve - have no trouble reminding you of their Avenger status. You’re embarrassed for a moment, until Steve kisses your cheek and the guys apologize to you. The grins never leave their faces, though.

“Those two are awfully happy to spend time together,” you mention while washing the dishes, “I feel a bromance blossoming right before us.”

“I’ll pretend to know what a bromance is and agree with you,” Steve places a dried plate back inside the cabinet, “I love you.”

You smile, cheeks heating when he squeezes your side with his fingers before kissing you softly on the lips. You marvel at him, amazed with how much of a perfect boyfriend he is, and kiss him twice more before the sound of running water brings you back down from the cloud you’re doing cartwheels on.

“I like your dress,” he says, “it’s very pretty.”

“Of course you like it,” you state, “I wore it for you.”

Steve drops the towel in his hands onto the counter and moved behind you. He pushes you hair to the side and his lips ghost over the bare skin of you neck, fingers playing teasingly with the spaghetti straps of your pastel pink summer dress.

“Did you, now?” He whispers in your ear, hands caressing your bare shoulders and upper arms in a slow manner.

You hum in response and shudder when he kisses your neck, softly sucking and biting on the exposed skin. The way he manages to instantly find just the spot you like does something funny to your heart rate and breathing every time, and just as you’re about to order him into your bedroom, the front door opens, and two laughing men stumble inside.

Steve groans from the loss of contact, but steps away from you nonetheless, and he follows the sound of laughter into the living room while you finish doing the dishes alone. Tomorrow the two of them can do it, you think in annoyance. This is your vacation too, after all, and the person who cooks is never the one who cleans.

Just before you enter the living room, the three men are speaking in hushed tones. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but the conversation falls silent the second you walk in and the atmosphere feels tense. You want to say something about the newfound silence, but swallow your words when Steve speaks first.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Steve asks with a twinkle in his eye when he spots you, and you nod hesitantly, eyes scanning the guys’ faces.

Your feet graze the beautiful old rug, and you lean against the bookshelf that’s stuffed with encyclopedias and classic board games like Monopoly, scrabble and Clue. There’s a painting above the door you only just noticed. It’s a replica of The Allegory of Painting by Vermeer.

“Something wrong?” You ask, afraid of work-related issues rising during your first night at the lake, but Steve waves them away when motions for you to join him after ordering the guys to finish cleaning up the kitchen space.

it’s warm outside when you step onto the wooden porch, and the sound of fireflies and lizards hidden from view creates a smile on your face. It’s extremely peaceful and quiet, just what the guys need; an idyllic getaway from their jam packed schedules as Avengers and the fast-paced New York City lifestyle. It’s nice to see Steve this relaxed, you think when you take his hand, and you follow him down the trail that leads around the lake.

This is the Steve you fell in love with nearly two years ago now. You loved him, every part of him, but you had to admit you preferred casual Steve over his alternative persona. With you, he could be his authentic self. No fronts, no righteous facade, just Steve, with flaws and imperfections and questions about life in the 21st century that he only dared to ask you because you’d never laugh at him for not knowing how to work induction plates and FaceTime.

“This place is incredible,” he says when turning back to look at the slowly disappearing cabin.

It is. It’s better than any of the places either of you have stayed at since you started dating. Hell, it even beats Tony’s penthouse suite and the mansion he owns in the south of Greece. He let you two stay there for your one-year anniversary. You smile when thinking back on that time.

Usually, you wouldn’t even dream of walking around outside late at night, but you’ve never felt safer with Steve’s hand clasped tightly in yours. You want him here, and the look in his eyes he gives you every time he tries to secretly glance at you lets you know he wants to be here just as bad. Exactly that is what makes your relationship work; it’s a companionship just as much as it is a friendship.

It’s nearly impossible for you to imagine him on the job when he’s strolling alongside you on the trail illuminated by the light of the moon, nearly impossible to imagine the brute force he’s accustomed to using on a daily basis. Steve’s not a violent man by nature, but his willpower to win a fair fight and keep the world safe from inner- and outer-worldly threats require him to use his power and strength all the time. You know it’s a part of him and it most likely always will be and you’ve accepted it, but still, having a super hero boyfriend brings baggage you only have time to think about when you’re spending quality time with him. It’s during those times that you realize how busy he actually is, and even though you don’t blame him for it, it still saddens you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, watching you bite your lip in thought.

You smile at him, “I’m just very happy you came.”

“Honey,” he presses, “I already told you I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“I know,” you reply, “but I also know your job is your life, and I can’t help but feel as if I’m trying to take you away from it.”

He takes your face in his hands and bends down until his eyes meet yours, “Don’t ever say that again, you hear me? I mean it. I. Want. To. Spend. Time. With you. Too much work isn’t healthy, and I need you to tell me to stop when I go too far.”

The two of you continue walking further along the trail, until finally, you pass between a group of tall trees.

Your jaw drops when you reach the clearing, tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you look at what’s in front of you. A dozen torches, spread around the clearing in the shape of a heart light up the entire area. In the center, a blanket and two fluffy pillows are spread out across the grass. Beside it is a picnic basket, filled to the brim with fruits, snacks, and a bottle of expensive wine.

“What is this?” You ask when Steve leads you closer to the blanket, “Steve! Did you put Sam and Bucky up to this?”

You walk closer towards the scene, face glowing in the orange flames, “this is amazing!”

“Y/N,” he says, pulling on your wrist to catch your attention, “I love you, baby.”

You look back at him just in time to see him falling to one knee, and when he shoves his hand into his back pocket to retrieve a blue velvet box, your vision blurs until you’re rapidly blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“I’ve loved you from the first moment I met you,” he says, “you keep me grounded when my head is too far up in the clouds. You make me want to be a better man every day. You shine brighter than any light in New York City, and I want that shine to be for me, and me alone. I want you to take my name, Y/N. I’m not worthy of you, but I promise you I’ll do my best every day to try. Please let me try.”

You’re crying, ugly crying now, and you don’t even realize you’re shaking your head until he finally speaks the words you’re dying to hear spill from his heart-shaped lips, “Marry me, baby.”

“Yes,” you manage between cries, “of course I will!”

The diamonds sparkle around your finger when he slips it on, and you’re hanging onto his neck for dear life the second he lets go of your hand.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair, “love you so much.”

“I love you too Steve,” you sniffle.

Yeah, this really is the nicest place the two of you have ever been.

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