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aflame4goinghome · 29 days

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Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter two

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking (marijuana), flirting, a little bit of arguing, lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn so no smut... yet ;)

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to chapter two! I'm excited to continue this little story for you all. I hope you don't hate me too much for the slow burn ;) Things will really start to heat up once tour starts up, so stay tuned hehe. See ya soon

Listen to the playlist here :)

chapter one

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

You step off the stage after another successful gig and quickly retreat to the dressing room for a moment to freshen up before heading out for a few drinks. Unfortunately for you, tonight’s celebrations, along with every celebration from now on, will be quite different due to the required presence of a certain bassist. Jodie thought it would be a good idea for Sam to attend all your gigs, to make your relationship more believable as you started “launching” it to the public.

You were reluctant at first, but at the end of the day, it didn’t feel like that big of a deal. You didn’t have to be glued to his side the entire night or anything, or at least you hoped not. Nonetheless, you knew he was waiting out there for you, and you knew that he had come alone, which made it even worse. At least if Danny or someone had come along, you’d have some sort of buffer, but no– it was just the two of you. Lucy wasn’t even on shift tonight either, having taken the weekend off to go home and visit her family.

It’s only been just over a week since you agreed to this deal with Sam, and it was already exhausting you. You honestly haven’t even spoken to him since that day, since both of you have been swamped with rehearsals, but Jodie reached out and let you know that he’d be there. You were hoping that he had forgotten, but when you saw him in his usual corner booth during your set, you realized you had gotten your hopes up too high.

“Whatever! I’m strong, and I’m confident, and I don’t care,” you say to yourself in the mirror as you touch up your makeup briefly. The pep talk wasn’t really working though. “What’s there to be afraid of, anyway? He’s just a guy!”

“I’m a man, for the record,” you hear a smug voice say from behind you. God-fucking-damnit. “A damn good-looking one, at that.”

“Samuel, what are you doing back here? I was coming out any second now, you couldn’t wait?” you say, scoffing to yourself as you put your makeup back in your bag and turn to him.

You’re actually surprised to see that he dressed rather nicely tonight. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, paired with a red button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He had the top two buttons undone, but that was the most of it– not nearly as low-cut as Jake would do.

“What, your boyfriend isn’t allowed to come see you after a show?” he asks sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sam– not actually. Nobody’s watching us back here,” you scowl, slinging your tote over your shoulder and walking to the door. You walk right past him and b-line it toward the bar.

“Seeing us come out together will help us look more like a couple, obviously,” he says smugly. “Come on, Y/N, I thought you had some wits about you.” You stop in your tracks and turn over your shoulder to glare at him. You take a deep breath before feeling calm enough to reply.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just go,” you mutter, turning to walk toward the bar again. That was the closest that you could ever get to telling him he was right. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you suppose that it wouldn’t be bad for your image if you walked out together.

“Seb, double rum and coke, please,” you say, trying to brush off your frustration by faking a smile. Sebastian nods and then his eyes drift behind you for a moment. You nearly forgot, honestly. “Oh, and uh– whatever he wants, I guess,” you add, nodding to the tall “man” behind you.

“PBR,” Sam says behind you, and Seb turns to grab a can from the fridge and open it for him. He places both of your drinks on the counter with a sympathetic smile and then adds it to your tab.

Without saying anything else, you just turn to retreat to the corner booth, sliding in first. As you situate yourself, you’re startled by Sam sliding in to sit next to you on the same side of the booth.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask accusingly. Sam rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer before turning his body toward you, his long legs stretched out underneath the table.

“Sweetheart, no one is gonna believe we’re together if we sit as far away from each other as possible,” he answers bluntly. “You have to at least look like you like me and enjoy my presence.”

“It’s harder than you think,” you mumble under your breath, looking down at the drink in your hand atop the table. “But fine.”

“Second time I’m right tonight, y’know. Do I get a prize?” he says with a smirk. You find yourself stifling a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s funny.

“Is the company of a talented pianist not enough?” you say, your lips turning upward slightly into a smile, subtle but still there. A chuckle leaves his mouth, which surprises you. You never expected him to laugh at your jokes before.

“I suppose it is, you’re one lucky lady, Y/N,” he says smugly. Damnit.

“Careful, Samuel. For a moment there, I almost thought you were complimenting me,” you warn with a smirk, taking a sip of your drink. Another laugh erupts from the man sitting next to you.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just dying for that, aren’t you?” he says, his tone bordering on teasing.

“For you to compliment me? Please. I don’t need you for that when I can easily find it elsewhere,” you bite back.

“Well, I don’t see any takers,” he remarks, looking around the room sarcastically. “Seems like you’re stuck with just me. Good luck getting any attention now, with me around.” You don’t even grace him with a reply after that one, just taking a long sip of your drink before putting it down on the table and turning your attention to the next act on stage.

He lets the silence stay, looking to the stage as well as his arm extends to sit behind you atop the back of the booth. As his arm moves behind you, you’re met with a quick waft of his cologne, smelling strongly of spearmint and pine. You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit that the scent almost sent your eyes rolling in the back of your head, intoxicating you. But you quickly shake it off.

“So… you guys will be going back on tour soon, yeah?” you ask, trying to fill the silence and save yourself from feeling awkward. He turns toward you, keeping his arm behind you as his fingers graze your bare shoulder.

“Yeah! We’re heading back out in a few weeks, we’re still trying to get more studio time in so that we can finally start the masters on our next project,” he answers proudly. You knew he was passionate about the music, it was something you respected about him.

“That’s great. From what I heard in the studio the other day, you guys have something really amazing going on there. I really liked the blues roots in some of them, I caught it almost immediately,” you say with a soft smile. Maybe talking to him wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought.

“See, thank you! Josh hates those bits– says they’re sonically boring. I completely disagree, obviously,” he says, a smile growing across his face. Despite hating to admit it, the two of you had aligning interests when it came to music, that much was clear.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! My favorite part was your transition from E major to C sharp minor, in that second song you guys played. It was so satisfying, that’s one of the best key changes in my opinion,” you say, starting to rant but catching yourself. You start to apologize for rambling but the smile on his face tells you that you don’t need to.

“I’m glad you caught that, no one else ever pays attention to stuff like that. I swear sometimes it feels like I’m all alone there, their minds just don’t work the same as mine,” he says, his smile widening as his thumb rubs softly on your shoulder.

“Well, I understand. It’s not exactly the same, but Lucy never gets it when I ramble on about music theory. As a writer, music is like a whole other language to her. I’ve never had anyone to really talk to about music before,” you admit with a shrug, looking over at him.

“Maybe we’ve found that in each other, then,” he says quietly, running his tongue along his bottom lip as your eyes watch carefully. You nod slowly, not sure what else to say. You’re not sure when you let yourself get so distracted, but you couldn’t help it. The proximity made your mind so foggy that you couldn’t think about much else.

All of a sudden, your attention is pulled away from your phone buzzing on the table. You pick it up to read the text you just received, which you see is from Jodie.

Jodie: Fans have already spotted you both out at the club! Some pics are already circling Twitter, look!

She attached screenshots of some tweets that have already been posted, questioning who you are and what you’re doing with Sam. The pictures show the two of you sitting close together, Sam’s arm wrapped around you as the two of you are smiling and laughing.

OMG, who is that with Sam???

He has his arm around her, look!

God, I’m so jealous.

They’re sitting awfully close to be just friends!

You have to admit that the two of you did look good together. You managed to make it seem casual and natural, which was good. To have the fans already buzzing about it was a good sign. After you finish reading the tweets, you hand your phone to Sam so that he can take a look.

“I swear, our fans know no boundaries. Who just takes a picture of someone who’s out minding their own business? Pisses me off,” he scoffs, handing you your phone back as he shakes his head, looking around to see if he can catch anyone looking.

“I know. But at least we have their attention, right? The seeds have certainly been planted. Now we just need to figure out some sort of hard launch,” you answer optimistically, hoping that he’s not too angry. He doesn’t seem to be, since his smile still hasn’t completely faded just yet.

“We look kinda good together there, don’t you think?” you joke, pulling up the picture again. You hear him laugh next to you, shaking his head as he looks down at your phone over your shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he admits softly. You almost didn’t realize how close he had gotten, to the point where you could feel his warm breath against your ear. You try not to think about the it too much, with the fear of blush creeping over your cheeks.

“Wanna really give them something to post about?” he whispers with a smirk, his voice against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. Leave it to Sam to ruin the moment with relentless flirting once again. You turn your head to face him and realize that he’s much closer than you originally thought. Your nose brushes against his as your eyes lock. You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected.

“As much as I’m sure you’d love that, I don’t think we need to rush all of that so soon,” you say softly, a twinge of sarcasm dripping from your voice. You watch as his smirk widens.

“Fine, you can be boring,” he says smugly, leaning back against the seat. “But I at least want to give them something interesting to talk about. Who cares if we’re just sitting and talking? Everyone does that, we could at least do something a little creative.” It truly was a performance after all. You just hum as a reply, not wanting to perpetuate the argument any further.

“Here,” he speaks again as his other hand moves to grasp your thigh, pulling your legs to rest slightly on his lap. His hand still lingers on your thigh, grasping firmly on your thigh right below the hem of your leather skirt.

“What’re you doing?” you say, in almost a whisper. His boldness has taken you aback, and you hesitate to fight back in that moment. The feeling of his large, callused hand on your skin clouded your brain so much that you almost thought you might like it.

“Giving them a show,” he smirks, turning to make sure people are looking before turning back to look at you. You couldn’t hide the flush of your cheeks now even if you wanted to. It didn’t take long for him to notice. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered, sweetheart? Is that it?” he asks with a smug grin, his hand moving an inch up your thigh as the other ghosts over your bare shoulder again.

“Pshh– what? No. No. That’s ridiculous,” you answer, obviously flustered.

“Just admit that you like it,” he says, leaning down to close more space between you. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Yeah, right. He’d never let you live it down if you even gave an inkling that you were enjoying this. You’d never give him that satisfaction. You clear your throat, inching away from him.

“Wanna get another round?” you ask, trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t budge.

“Answer my question,” he says assertively, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt teasingly. You breathe out a deep breath, but keep your eyes on his. He’s searching them, waiting for any hint of you giving in, but finds nothing.

“What would you do if my answer was yes? What then?” you ask, your voice breathy and quiet. His lips quirk slightly as he looks down at you.

“You don’t have to play these games to get my attention, y’know. You already have it,” he whispers, his nose brushing past yours. That’s it, you can’t do this anymore.

“Okay, I need a smoke. Let me out?” you ask, still backing away slowly with the hopes that he’d stand up and let you out of the booth. An annoyed sigh leaves his mouth as he complies, getting up from his seat.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, clearly not asking. You just roll your eyes and nod, walking out to the front of the club. Leaning against the front of the building, you reach into your tote and pull out your lighter and the blunt that you had rolled earlier that day. Given the stress from the evening, you thanked your earlier self for thinking of it.

Placing it between your lips, you quickly light it, taking a drag before lowering it to your side. You take a moment to look over at Sam, who’s looking down at you as he leans his side against the wall. Feeling like you were being slightly greedy, you decide to offer him a hit, which he gladly accepts.

“Didn’t take you for the stoner type,” he says casually, taking another hit before passing it back to you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sam,” you answer, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a long drag. You watch as his eyes flicker to your lips for a moment there. You knew what he was thinking. If you were crossed enough, you thought you honestly might let him. But not just yet.

“I’m starting to see that… I guess if I want to know anything about you, I’ll have to work for it, yeah?” he says with a shrug. That was exactly what you were going to say next– that he had to work for it. You hated that he could read you like that. Maybe you were more predictable than you thought.

“I suppose so. You should stop while you’re ahead though, I won’t give in that easily,” you tease, taking another hit as you look up at him, trying to read his expression. The weed is already mixing perfectly with the liquor in your system. Your head felt lighter already.

“I’m not afraid of you, sweetheart. And I don’t go down without a fight,” he says with a smirk, leaning toward you slightly. He towered over you, which felt slightly intimidating. You couldn’t really read him well, either, which made it even more difficult.

“What do you wanna know?” you ask, taking a hit and blowing it out of the side of your mouth.

“Where are you from?” he asks, taking the blunt in his fingers as you pass it.

“Here,” you answer bluntly, watching his lips purse as he takes a drag. It was way hotter than you expected it to be. “Well, not here exactly. I grew up in a town like, thirty minutes away. But I’ve been coming to Nashville all my life.”

“I see,” he says, a small smile on his face. You didn’t ask him where he was from– you already knew the answer, and he knew that. “Did you always know that you wanted to play music?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I started playing piano at 6, joined the jazz band in middle school, and it all just kind of grew from there. My high school band director is the one who set me up with my first ever paid gig, when I was 17. After that, I knew this was what I needed to do.” You can tell that he’s trying to hide his smile, but it’s not working. He was impressed by you, and for some reason, you liked that.

“I did jazz band too, amongst other things. It was honestly a great start on music theory, learning about chord progressions and improvisation and stuff like that,” he says with a shrug, passing your blunt back to you.

“Yeah, I agree. You learn a lot of important stuff there,” you reply, taking a hit. It was nice to have someone to talk music with, even if it was Sam. He knew what he was talking about, and it felt like he understood you. That’s not an easy feat.

“Have you ever been in love?’ he asks, looking down at you. You expected to find a smirk on his face, but there wasn’t one there.

“That’s a loaded question,” you joke, taking another hit as you try to think of what the hell to even say to that. “I don’t think I have, to be honest. There were times when I thought I was, but looking back…” you trail off. “Have you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, taking the blunt from your fingers and taking a hit. “Nothing ever stuck. Not sure why.” Surely you had a couple of good guesses, but you wouldn’t dare to say any now. The topic was somewhat vulnerable, which you didn’t expect from him. Why did he want to know this about you? You’re gonna take a mental note to ask about it another day when you’re both much more sober.

Some time passes, as the two of you share the blunt in silence. Near the end of it, you pass him the blunt and let him finish it off, watching him flick the butt onto the sidewalk and stomp it out. He doesn’t make a move to go inside, however, but instead moves closer to you. As you look up at him, your mind starts to spin as his head reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb smoothes over your cheekbone, the rough callus on it sending shockwaves throughout your body. You’re not sure why you don’t pull away, even when his face starts getting closer and closer to yours.

“Don’t run away this time,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours as your eyes travel to his lips. They looked soft and full, and you started to wonder if they would feel warm against yours. You knew you probably wouldn’t have to wonder much longer. For some reason, you didn’t want to run away. No, you wanted to stay. Something inside you wanted to know if you’d feel something– anything.

Your eyes lock with his as his other hand finds its place on your waist, tugging you toward him slightly. You search his eyes, seeing if you could read his mind. What was going through it? You knew he’d been persistent with you before, but why did this feel different somehow? You let your nose brush against his again, as you feel his breath hot against your lips.

“Sam!” you hear someone exclaim from behind you, causing you to jump from the brash noise.

“We’ll finish this later,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You suck in a deep breath then quickly pull away, leaving at least a foot between you two as a girl approaches you– seemingly a fan. Sam puts on a brave face, smiling softly as he talks to her. He was gracious and kind, despite being visibly frustrated.

“Do you… want me to take your picture?” you ask softly, to which she nods feverishly. After snapping a few photos on her phone, you hand it back to her with a shy smile.

“So, who’s this?” she asks, turning to Sam. God, she was nosy. All the fans were, clearly. What did she care? Why would she need to know who Sam was spending his time with? Your angry internal rant comes to a full stop as Sam wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Actually, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he says proudly, his grip soft but strong on my side. You offer her a soft smile as her face lights up, and you know this will be plastered all over the internet by tomorrow. You suppose that was the whole point, though. This was bound to happen eventually, you just didn’t expect it to be on your first night out. You thought you’d have more time to prepare.

Luckily for you both, this girl was way too drunk to bother asking too many other questions. Soon enough, she says her goodbyes and swiftly leaves. You breathe out a sigh of relief, laying your back against the wall once more.

“Fuck, that was exhausting. How do you do that all the time?’ I ask jokingly, rubbing my temples. He lets out a soft laugh, which makes your lips turn upward into a smile almost immediately.

“It’s not always that bad. Usually, they refrain from personal questions like that… sorry. I know I kinda put you on the spot there,” he offers genuinely, which you accept.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know it would happen. I just wish I was more prepared– I mean, we don’t even have our backstory together or anything! We haven’t discussed any of the details at all,” you say, slightly exasperated. Another laugh leaves his lips. You think to yourself that you quite liked being the person who makes him laugh.

“Right, well I guess we’ll just have to figure that out then. We’ll need to be prepared, now that everyone is going to know,” he says. “How about we meet up for coffee on Monday and set all the details straight? That sound good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod with a small smile. “I can do that.”

“Great, I’ll text you the details tomorrow then,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He sees the time and his eyes shoot open, not realizing how late it's gotten. “Shit, it got late on us. Can I call you a cab?” he asks, looking up from his phone to look at you.

“Oh, no that’s not necessary. I only live around the corner, I’ll walk,” you insist, though you’re surprised he cares that much. It was a side of him that you had yet to see.

“Then I’ll walk you home,” he says, not even letting you answer before starting to walk off. How he knew what direction it was in, you weren’t sure. You suppose he’s seen you leave that way before and leave it at that.

Soon enough, you’re both stopped in front of your apartment building. It seems like you’re both unsure of how to say goodbye, considering the nature of your “relationship” was such a gray area. You knew he was about to kiss you earlier, and you knew that you were going to let him, but you’ve sobered up slightly now. It wasn’t a good idea.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you say softly, just choosing to back away without a proper goodbye in favor of avoiding any more awkwardness between the two of you.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, offering you a soft smile as he shoots you a wink. You watch as he turns to leave and walks back toward the bar to catch his Uber home. As he turns the corner, you quickly turn around and retreat inside, hurrying to your apartment before finally entering your bedroom. You lean your back against the door and sink to the floor, your mind slightly boggled by the entire evening.

You have to admit that you ended up enjoying his company. The teasing was still excessive and he was arrogant, but there were times when this different guy shone through the cracks. You wanted to know that guy.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you’re sitting on your balcony on Sunday afternoon, enjoying the sunny weather with an iced coffee and a book in hand, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You slide a bookmark onto the page and shut the book, setting it down on your table next to your coffee before reaching into your back pocket to pull out your phone.

Sam: We still on for tomorrow?

You hum to yourself, checking your calendar quickly to make sure you don’t have anything else going on. You thought that he might have forgotten about your plans to meet up tomorrow, since it was already well into the afternoon and you hadn’t heard from him. But you suppose he isn’t one to rise early, as Danny told you last week. You typically weren’t either, but today was an exception.

You: Yeah, whenever works best for you. We could meet at the coffee shop across the street from Seb’s?

That place was your usual haunt, the baristas all knew your name by now. It was helpful for hangovers, so you always came in the morning after a night out and it soon became a habit. You knew Sam didn’t live in Midtown, but maybe he wouldn’t mind coming down.

Sam: Sounds good, meet at 2 pm? I’ve got a short meeting with the guys in the morning.

You: Yeah, that’s good. See ya then.

He doesn’t respond from there, so you just leave it at that. You never took him for much of a texter, so you didn’t read too much into it. You slide your phone back into your pocket and open your book back up, picking up where you left off.

Just as you were getting back in the groove of the story, you heard your apartment door close behind you. You turn around to see Lucy coming in from her weekend with her parents. She spots you outside and walks over, sliding the glass door open.

“Hi, love,” she says, coming outside and sitting on the chair opposite you.

“Hey, Luce. How was your weekend?” you ask, still keeping your eyes on your book.

“It was good! Tommy had his graduation ceremony this weekend, so there was a big party,” she answers with a smile. Tommy is her younger brother, who’s just graduated high school. You never knew him well, since their age gap was so big, but he was a sweet kid.

“That sounds nice!” you say, offering her a soft smile.

“How was yours? Anything interesting happen?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you. She knows something.

“What did you see?” you ask bluntly, getting right to the point. A chuckle leaves her lips as she smiles at you.

“Oh, nothing. Just saw a few pictures of you and a certain rockstar cuddled up at Seb’s last night, plastered all over their update accounts on Instagram,” she says with a smug smile.

“Why on Earth do you follow their update accounts, you weirdo!” you say, barely getting the sentence out before you both erupt into laughter.

“When you told me you’d be pretending to date him, I went and followed some of them! I knew you were bound to make it on there eventually and I wanted to see my best friend become famous!” she exclaims, pulling her phone out to show you the posts. There were photos of you both in your booth and standing outside the club. You did look rather close.

“I am not becoming famous. It’s just a couple of photos,” you say curtly. “And he might have told a fan I was his girlfriend,” you mumble at the end, hoping she didn’t hear.

“He what?” she yells, and your hand shoots to cover her mouth with a giggle.

“Shhh, shut up, the neighbors already think we’re crazy,” you laugh, taking your hand away after a moment. “It’s not a big deal. We knew he’d have to make it official eventually. We’re meeting up tomorrow to get our story together and stuff, so that we know what to tell the fans in case we get asked anything on the spot.”

“Wow, you guys are moving fast,” she teases. She had no idea. You were tempted to tell her about the kiss you almost shared the night before, but inevitably you decide not to. Talking about it will just complicate things even more.

“Whatever. He’s actually not that bad at times– but don’t tell him I said that,” you say with a small smile across your lips. “We just have more in common than I expected.”

“I’ve been telling you that for months, Y/N,” she says sarcastically, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go rot in bed for a while, talk to you later.”

“Okay, have fun,” you say, your smile widening as you wave her off and then open your book back up again.

You really couldn’t stay concentrated on reading today, it seems. You try your best to refocus, and you eventually do, reading until the sun starts to go down. Soon enough, you retreat to bed, getting an early rest before your coffee “date” with Sam tomorrow. That should be… interesting, to say the least.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you try and get ready to go the next afternoon, you’re completely stuck on what to wear. What does someone wear to a coffee date with their fake boyfriend to discuss the terms of their fake relationship? God, even phrasing that question made your head spin. You tried asking Lucy for advice but she was no help, just resorting to light teasing and not giving any actual suggestions.

“Why do you care what you wear? It’s not like he’s your actual boyfriend,” she said with a smug smile. You didn’t grace her with a reply, opting just to shut the door in her face and turn back to your closet.

You sigh to yourself before sifting through your clothes, pulling out a white linen button-up shirt. You decide to just go with a black tank top, with the white shirt on top, left unbuttoned. The weather was quite warm with the summer heat really starting to settle in. You throw on a pair of jean shorts, slip on your low-top white vans, and then throw your things into your tote bag before heading out the door. It was only a few minutes before 2 at this point, but you didn’t want to arrive too early. You assumed he’d be late himself, anyway.

As you turn the corner and cross the street, you see him sitting at a small table out front. Damn, guess you were wrong. Again.

“Sam,” you greet quietly as he stands up from the table.

“Nice of you to finally show up, Y/N. Was starting to think you stood me up,” he says with a smirk, opening the door for you.

“Shut up, I’m two minutes late,” you answer with a scoff, getting in line to order a drink. He stands next to you, leaning against the counter. You decide to stand in silence until after you place your order since your bickering wasn’t really the best idea in public. You order a chai tea latte and Sam just gets an americano, and the two of you find a table in the corner while you wait.

“So, let’s get started then, shall we?” Sam says, leaning back in his chair. “Where’d we meet?” Your lips quirked upward into a smile.

“Okay, getting right to the point, I see,” I joke, folding my hands and placing them on the table. “Well, that one’s easy. We met at the club. We’ll just say that you came to some of my gigs and just liked me sooo much that you had to say hi,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all. You watch as a chuckle leaves his mouth, and there goes that feeling again.

“Alright, sure,” he laughs as a barista comes to put our drinks on the table. “Thanks,” he says to them, taking a sip of his drink before turning back to you. “And we can say we started seeing each other… when? Maybe March?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” you shrug, taking a sip of your chai. “That won’t explain the girls you’ve had… relations with between then and now, though,” you add, looking up at him. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair.

“If you’re jealous, just say that,” he smirks. “We can just say that we only became exclusive recently.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, but quickly decide it’s not worth the argument, opting to just scoff and change the subject.

“What do we say when they ask why I’m not going on the tour with you guys?” you ask, adjusting nervously in your seat as a look washes over his face that you can’t quite interpret.

“Are you not?” Sam asks, the tone in his voice sounding slightly accusatory. You’re not even quite sure how to reply, this wasn’t something you ever discussed.

“Wait, do you want me to?” you ask, straightening your posture. “I still have to work, you know. This is how I make a living, I can’t just ditch Seb for weeks on end.” He ponders your words for a moment, then leans forward a bit.

“You don’t need all that. Jodie said she’d help set you up in your career, and she meant that,” he says sincerely. “She can pay you for the entire time we’re gone, if that’s the problem. I’m sure we can find something for you to do on the tour. And then when we come back, we can get you in the studio to record your album.”

It all almost felt too good to be true. Too easy. What was in it for them, truly? Sure, having a likable and successful girlfriend would be good for Sam’s image, but is that really all it is? Why does it feel like you’re getting way more out of this than they are?

“I don’t know, Sam. I really don’t feel like I’ll belong there. What could I possibly do on tour besides act as your arm candy?” you say bitterly.

“Y/N, you’re not just my arm candy. It isn’t like that,” he says dejectedly. His eyes scan your face but you don’t seem convinced.

“You may be strikingly beautiful, but you’re much more than that to me, trust me,” he teases, coaxing a smile out of you. When he sees that his plan is working, he continues. “Maybe you could help me compose some piano fills for the shows or something.”

“You’d really let me do that?” you ask, your eyes lighting up slightly. A soft smile grows across his lips.

“Sure. You won’t catch me admitting this ever again, so don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart… but you’re a talented musician. I’m sure we could cook something up together,” he says.

You look over at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this is the same Sam that you used to argue with all those weeks ago. Obviously, it is, and he’s still keeping you on your toes, but something’s changed. You’re starting to think that this partnership may work out after all.

“Okay. Alright, I’ll come,” you answer. “How long is it, anyway?”

“We’ll only be gone a month, and then we’ll have off until the end of the summer,” he assures you. It can’t be that bad, you suppose.

“Okay, so we have that covered, I guess,” you say, taking another sip of your drink. “I guess that just leaves one more thing. We should set up some rules.”

“Rules? Seriously?” Sam scoffs, leaning back in his seat again.

“Yes, seriously. We have to be on the same page or else this is gonna end up becoming a big mess,” you say, returning his annoyed look.

“Fine. What rules are we talking about here?” he concedes.

“Well, first of all, do the rest of the guys know? Do they know it’s fake?” you ask.

“They think it’s real,” he shrugs. “Jodie thought it’d be better that way.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way then. But Lucy knows it’s fake,” you admit, and he gives you a disapproving look. “I tell her everything, it’s not my fault! But she’s the only one, even Seb thinks it’s real somehow.”

“Right, well. To the rest of the world, it’s real then. Anything else?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at you.

“We should agree that this,” you start, pointing your finger between Sam and yourself, “is only in public. When we’re alone, it’s just me and you, none of this happy couple stuff.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he says with a smirk, “...unless that’s something you’ll have trouble with, sweetheart?” he teases.

“Yeah, right. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you, my bad,” you answer sarcastically. “Whatever, so that’s handled. Have anything you wanna add?” you ask, sipping from your mug.

“Yeah, what happens if one of us forms any sort of…” he trails off, pondering his words carefully. “...feelings.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you look over at him, almost spitting out your drink. You swallow it quickly and clear your throat.

“Feelings?’ you laugh. “Not that that’s ever gonna be a problem, but… if it is, then I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

“What, you’re not scared that you’ll fall in love with me?” he asks, leaning over the table slightly. You mirror his actions, your faces mere inches away.

“Not in the slightest, Samuel,” you answer proudly, your eyes piercing into his. You weren’t going to back down, and neither was he. As you watch his eyes drift to your lips, you clear your throat, leaning back again.

“Anything else?’ you ask, looking down at your mug in your hands as you avoid his gaze.

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ loudly. You can just hear the smirk in his voice. You’re not giving in that easily, you know that the second you look up at him, your heart will jump into your throat.

“Great, so that settles it,” you say, taking the last sip and then putting your empty mug down on the table. You watch as his hand extends out to yours, to shake it.

“Girlfriend?” he asks, smirking at you as you finally look up at him. You have to hold in a sigh as you offer your hand to him, shaking it.

“Girlfriend.”

His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips again before he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. It takes everything in you not to fold right then and there, frankly, but you’re stronger than that.

His lips were just as soft as you thought they’d be. Not that you’ve thought about them before, of course not. Nonetheless, they were soft, and so warm. They lingered far longer than you wanted them to, and your instincts caused you to pull your hand away, placing it back in your lap. At that, you abruptly stand up from your seat, grab your tote bag, and put it on your shoulder.

“I have to– I’ve gotta go,” you say softly, and he quickly stands up.

“Okay, I’ll walk you home,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he follows you out the door. Again? That’s the second time just this week… You have to admit that it was thoughtful, but you don’t want to think too much of it. It’s just a nice gesture, nothing serious. He might be an arrogant asshole, but you guess he’s still a gentleman.

You walk beside each other on the sidewalk as you make your way down the street to your apartment. Every once in a while, his hand brushes yours as you walk, sending jolts throughout your body that you’re determined to ignore. You wondered why he asked you about the possibility of feelings being involved. Was that something he was worried about? Should you be worried about it? Surely not. Lucy seems to think you should be, if you told her about this she’d freak. But it’s not a big deal, right?

You stop in front of your building, the awkward opportunity of a goodbye leering over you both once more. You go back up toward your building in the same fashion as the other night, but a strong hand stops you before you get the chance to get too far.

“Josh is having a party on Friday,” he says quickly, as if he was spitting it out. “I told him I'd bring you.” You stop and look up at him, his grip on your upper arm still remaining.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll be there,” you answer with a soft smile. His eyes light up, like he was expecting you to put up a fight.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at 8?” he asks. You nod, as his eyes continue to burn into yours. God, what now? Before you have the chance to do something awkward, his other arm lands on your waist and he bends down, placing a kiss on your temple and then backing away toward the sidewalk, leaving you in silent shock. “See you then, sweetheart.”

“Uh– yeah, see you,” you mutter, your eyes trained on him as he turns the corner. What the fuck was that?

As you slam the door of your apartment, you rush off to your room with hopes of avoiding any interrogation from Lucy. It doesn’t work, however.

“Y/N,” she opens your door with a smug look on her face, leaning against the door frame. “How was your date?” You scoff at her as you throw yourself onto your bed.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you groan as she enters the room and climbs into bed next to you.

She stays sitting up as you lay your head on the pillow, and her fingers comb through your curls as you debrief the events of your afternoon. Despite her occasional jokes and teasing, she seems to be really supportive of you going on tour with the band. After all, it will be a good start for the future of your music career. But at what cost? What will it be like to spend a month straight with Sam Kiszka and his band of brothers? You still had two weeks to prepare, but even that didn’t feel like enough. Your world was moving a mile a minute, and it was only just getting started.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

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#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic #sam kiszka #sammy gvf #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #enemies to lovers #sam kiszka gvf #greta van smut #greta van angst #gvf #enemies to friends to lovers #bad reputation #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #gretavanfleet #sam kiszka smut

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writing-my-time · 1 month

Text

SMOKE BREAK (PART ONE)

Note: This ended up taking a vastly different route than what I initially had planned so... two parter!

Pairing: Steve Murphy X F!Reader Word Count: 1.75k Warnings: Angst, swearing, allusions to cheating, nicotine withdrawal. Summary: It’s been a week since Steve’s quit smoking cold turkey, and his withdrawals are making him worse by the day. Everything comes to a head when he offers to drop you home late at night.

Connie’s calling him again. His lip is curling, and you watch the way the pads of his fingers meet the coarse hairs of his mustache, absent-mindedly wearing the same snarl he’s had on for the past few hours. With the phone pressed firmly against his cheek, and his free hand gripping his armrest, the man is a vision of pent up frustration. All you can tell is that the second he puts it down, he won’t be happy. A week ago, you’d at least have the assurance that he’d soothe himself with a cigarette.

Today, you don’t have that luxury. He’d explained to you last Monday that he’d decided to quit for his health, or something. Truthfully, you hadn’t really been paying attention when he first explained his reasoning. At the time, you were far more occupied with restocking the printer when he’d approached your desk. With your head down and ass up, trying your hardest to funnel fresh paper into the impossible machine, you only caught every other word. Regardless of the why’s, Steve wasn’t smoking, and he was making that everyone else's problem. Now, you’re stuck watching the man try to keep his cool over a personal call. Had it not been his wife on the phone, you’d be trying to catch his attention. Maybe you’d chew on the nib of your pencil, throw him a wink or a smile. Instead, your cheek is in your palm while you simply listen in to their spat.

“Yes, ma’am.” The agent growls into the phone. “Understood.”

His teeth clamp together, flexing the muscles in his jaw as he slams the phone back on the receiver. Unlike you, Javier doesn’t even flinch at the noise, instead he almost tauntingly raises his own cigarette to his lips. There’s a clear glint of pure, mischievous joy in his face as he exhales a plume of smoke, and you fight the urge to scold him in Steve’s defense. You know if you did, it’d only open you two up to more teasing from the other agent. That’s the last thing he needs. Rapidly pulling himself to a stand, Steve grumbles under his breath about needing a break. As he stomps out of the office with long strides, you can't help but focus on the way his hands are continuously flexing; Only releasing their tension once he reaches the door handle.

When the door slams shut, a weighted silence fills the room. Neither you nor Javier dare exchange a glance, instead you both stare at the now empty desk. A part of your conscience is posing the idea of following Steve, the other part knows that'll only make it all worse. While you yourself are no stranger to being grouchy in the office, cold turkey Steve is a different beast entirely. It was only day three when you had to stop him throwing Javier against the wall (again).

Enough time passes by for the concern to subside. By now, any attempt to bring Steve back to the office would be futile considering how much of the day his storm-out has wasted. You check the ticking clock on the wall with a sigh. Home time. After collecting your things, and a quick ‘goodbye’ to Javier, you head out of the heavy doors with your bag held tightly to your chest. Despite being well established in Colombia, walking to your home still fills you with dread; something that's only gotten worse with the cartel’s recent escalations. Just as you're about to step onto the pavement, you hear someone clear their throat.

“Walking home’s a bad idea, señorita.”

It’s Steve, bringing himself to a sluggish stand as you make your way down the steps. Clearly, his form of getting a break was sulking on the concrete outside. He’s been dragging his hands through his hair, having dirty blond strands now fly up in a disheveled mess. In truth, it’s a surprise that he’s still actually on the premises. Was he waiting? Surely not. While you know it’s not really the time to tease him, you can’t help yourself.

“Oh, you’re finally practicing some Spanish? How long have you been here now?”

“Funny. Really funny.” He asks you with a raised brow, definitely not in the mood for the usual joking around. “You want a lift or not?”

“Please.”

—

Normally, you appreciated his offers to take you home, having only started carpooling once Connie left for Miami. This time, however, you feel yourself pushed into the seat from the weight of the silence. Steve is practically choking out the steering wheel, white-knuckling the leather as his eyes stay on the road. Dim street lights illuminate his face, casting a warm orange glow against his angular features; The blonde hairs on his head that have strayed away from their combed state dangle forward. Whatever Connie had told him clearly got under his skin enough to ruin his usually calm state. He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, continually tensing his jaw as he remains deep in thought. You suck in a sharp breath.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

It’s enough to shut you back up, immediately turning your eyes toward the window instead. In your time at the embassy, you’d grown accustomed to the frequent brooding behavior of the men at your workplace. To your side, you hear Steve sigh. Then, he exhales deeply through his nose, dragging his free hand down his mustache as he does. Against your better instinct, you speak again.

“I got smokes in my bag if you wanna-”

“-I don’t.”

“I just figured since you were angry I-”

“-I’m not angry.”

“Interrupt me one more time and I will be.”

It’s Steve’s turn to shut up, his steely blue eyes just about rolling into the back of his head. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, once again clenching his fists against the wheel. Silence returns to the car, now only quelled by the occasional breath. Not much longer until you're home.

“Sorry.” He mutters, releasing his now-chewed lip from his bite. “I'm just… worked up I guess.”

“No shit, Murphy.” You huff back, folding your arms to your chest as you lean back in the passenger seat. “Doesn't take an agent to recognise that. You really think quitting smoking is a great idea right when-”

You cut yourself off, knowing better than to shoot a man while he's down. Sure, the point you're making is valid. Steve's choice to ditch the cigarettes right after he's lost his free ticket to pussy isn't one that would lead to happy endings. Despite your efforts to censor yourself, the way his hands flex around the wheel make it clear he knew what you meant. The next exit ahead is yours, but instead, he stops the car. He's pulled over onto the dimly lit side of dusty road that graces the entrance to your street, leaving the car nearly pitch black inside. Steve turns to you, brows lowered and warning.

“You think I need a vice to be a good agent?” His nostrils flare.

There's a thickness in the air. It's one that forces you to gulp down a hard lump in your throat. You haven't seen this side of the agent before. Javier had mentioned over work drinks that Steve had an intimidating side; something you doubted at the time. Not now. The man's gaze bores into your own, daring you to answer in earnest. You gulp down a shaky breath, not used to the piercing look in his eye.

“I just think you need to cool it before Messina gives you the can.”

“Cool it?” He scoffs, slapping the wheel as he does. “I need to cool it? How am I meant to do that?”

“Well since you're adamant about quitting smokes I'd suggest you get laid, Murphy.” You growl, quickly growing tired of the borderline tantrum happening in the seat over.

“I don't know if you noticed, but that's not exactly something I can achieve right now, given the fact that my wife has fucked off back to Miami. So unless-” He stops himself by biting his tongue. “You know what? Now I'm angry.”

You can't help but roll your eyes, knowing full well the stories of infidelities that have been passed around the office grapevine. Steve's wife wasn't the thing stopping him, that's for sure, but you can't quite tell what thing is stopping him. Before you can even think about a response, he starts up again.

“You know what we should get into, sweetheart? What's up your ass, huh? You aren't exactly peaches and cream in the office, either. Always too busy with your own shit.”

“Oh here we go-”

“-Yeah, here we go. What? You think I'm about to let you tell me to cool it when you're in the office acting like a goddamn bitch?”

“Steve!” You exclaim, eyes wide and mouth agape.

He has no grounds to stand on, and you wonder if he knows that. The way his hands are back to white-knuckling the wheel tells you everything you need to know. Steve's looking for a fight; you assume this is his new way of feeling something. Cold turkey quitting turns people into assholes and Steve is no different. Swirls of bitterness mixed with something you can't quite place take root in his gaze, punching you right in the gut as his words settle in the silence. His Adam's apple bobs, and you sniff back a snarl. You don’t deserve this shit. Before he can speak, you cut in first.

“Thank you for the lift. I can walk from here.”

“Hey, no, come on-”

“Don’t, I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.��

There’s no chance for him to diffuse the situation, as you’re already tearing the car door open while he comes to terms with what he’s said. He’d had a go at Javier, he’d been mouthy to Mesina, too. Shit, the man had even been getting snippy with Connie over the phone, but he didn’t expect to get wound up with you, too. You slam the door in his face, blatantly ignoring the look of remorse on his face as you begin to walk away. The last image you have of him is of him pressing his forehead as harshly against the wheel as he can. At least that makes you feel better. Lucky for you, he’d only pulled over a short walk from your apartment. Lucky for him, you’d left your bag in the footwell.

___

A big thank you for reading! Part two coming after I finish off my to do list :)

Tags for those requested: @foerthesakeoffics, @toxicanonymity

#boyd holbrook #steve murphy #narcos #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #javier peña #goose writing

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heisenberg-simp257 · 2 years

Note

I would kill someone for you bestie. Could I get 40, 42, 48, and 49 pretty please? Maybe Reader and Heis are about to anounce their relationship to the other Lords and Karl is a little nervous~

Aww, that means so much to me!💖😂 Of course you can! And I’m all for this idea!

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The Worst Kind of Family Meetings

You want the other lords to know about your relationship. Heisenberg wishes he was dead.

#40 “Show them that your mine.”

#42 “Just take my hand.”

#48 “Don’t worry, I’m all yours.”

#49 “That was kind of cute.”

How did he let you talk him into this?

Here Heisenberg stood, with you, right in front of the castle where all the lords met. They were there now, on account of you. You’ve had the brilliant idea to announce your guy’s, well-hidden Heisenberg would say, relationship to the others. A relationship that Heisenberg kept hidden in order to protect you.

So, how did he let you talk him into this?

Well, it was actually quite simple on your end.

“Are you ashamed of me or something?” You asked him one day when this topic was brought back up. Your question nearly made the metal man drop his work in shock.

“Absolutely not. How could you even ask me that?” He said in shock while turning to face you. You were nonchalantly playing with your hair before meeting his eyes.

“I just find it strange how you haven’t introduced our other relationship to the other lords.” You mused to him, and he grew rigid.

“For good reasons...I don’t want them taking you away from me.” He said in a bitter tone while folding his arms. Heisenberg was getting defensive again, and you could sense the tension. Slowly, you got up and went over to him.

That brought his guard down a little.

“Show them that your mine.” You whispered with a smirk, gently brushing your hand down his cheek. Heisenberg felt his will breaking, and he knew that if you pushed a little harder, he would give in and you guys would be making your relationship public.

You pushed.

So, here he stood with you.

“I still don’t like this...” He muttered and you turned to look at him. Heisenberg was frowning, and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You figured it was only natural for him to be nervous.

After all, he’s worked so hard in order to make this relationship with you work. From controlling his own temper to opening his heart to you, Heisenberg managed to nestle himself up beside you. You respected his decision to keep things private, figuring he needed time. In reality, he was trying to protect you from the others.

He didn’t want to lose you.

“It’ll be fine. What’s the worse they can do?” You said while turning to look over at him, a slight smile on your face. However, it vanished when you noticed how troubled he was.

“Just take my hand.” You said softly, reaching out your hand for his own gloved one. It surprised you how tightly he gripped your hand, again telling you how nervous he actually was for this.

Then, after a couple more seconds in the cold, you both went in.

“There you are! Late as usual...” Alcina said in astonishment before muttering under her breath. Moreau and Donna just watched silently as you and Heisenberg walked in hand in hand.

However, he was ready to rip his hand out of yours when all their eyes locked on your conjoined hands.

“Are you guys...together?” Alcina said with disbelief, lowering the smoke down from her face. Heisenberg froze at her words, while all the others watched expectantly.

When you realized he wasn’t going to answer, and the lords were waiting expectantly, you nodded.

“Yes, yes we are.” You said brightly, and immediately Donna pointed an accusing finger towards Alcina.

“I told you.” She said in a nonchalant voice as Alcina scoffed before looking back over at the two of you.

“I just didn’t think anyone would want this vile man.” She sneered while looking back over, eyeing you strangely. You could tell Donna was doing the same under her veil.

“Hooray for love!” Moreau was the only one who seemed pleased at this, but his words caused Heisenberg to get all flustered. In turn, Alcina began to smirk and the teasing began.

“Aww, there’s no need to be embarrassed Heisenberg.” She said with a twinkle in her eyes. Angie laughed maniacally as Heisenberg just fumed.

“Shut your damn hole!” He growled at her as she continued to smirk, crossing one leg over the over. Your hand was being gripped to death by his own, and you were thankful that he didn’t just take his hand away when Alcina teased him.

Heisenberg still needed your silent support.

“So, would Y/N be able to watch movies with me?” Moreau asked innocently, not wanting to interfere on yours and Heisenberg’s relationship. However, his question had Heisenberg round on him like a rabid animal.

“Absolutely not! Y/N’s not going anywhere with any of you!” He snarled, most of his aggression aimed at Moreau, who whimpered slightly. Alcina scoffed at his attitude before smirking.

“Y/N, dear, how can you deal with him being so controlling?” She asked innocently, but Heisenberg soon turned his fiery eyes onto her. However, before he could say anything, you answered her.

“I don’t see it as controlling. He just wants me all to himself.” You told her with a slight smile. Then you gently looked at Heisenberg, who had moved to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t worry, I’m all yours.” You whispered lovingly to him, rubbing his arm. Heisenberg softened slightly, and he almost seemed to smile before his big “sister” spoke up again.

“But why did you choose him?” She asked in a disturbed sort of tone, her head resting in her hand.

“Desperation.” Donna said, and Angie clapped at her statement.

Before Heisenberg could curse at her or worse, you intervened by grabbing onto his arm and forcing him to look at you. You flashed him a soft smile before moving to stroke his cheek. Even before his fellow lords, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling a bit.

Until Alcina cleared her throat.

“Just because you two are together does not mean I need to see this daily.” She stated with a frown while Donna rolled her eyes (even though nobody could see that).

“Love happens at any time, and you need to let it or else it’ll die.” Everyone stared at Moreau after he said those wise words. Donna shook her head while you, Heisenberg, and Alcina blinked slowly in confusion. Poor Moreau began to get embarrassed by all the attention, and started wringing his hands together.

“You’ve watched too many movies...” Alcina stated in a motherly tone, and Moreau slumped over in defeat.

“He’s right though. I...” You looked over at everyone before blushing and looking at the man before you. The man who stole your heart, and you took a deep breath.

“I love you...Heisenberg.” You said, eyes full of admiration. The metal lord got all flustered by your words, a rare state for him to be in. However, he cared more for you than he worried about his own image to the others.

So, with a slight smile, he ignored the stares of his fellow lords as he brushed some hair behind your ear.

“I...love you too...” He said softly, and the other lords (minus Alcina) cooed teasingly. Well, Donna cooed teasingly while Moreau thought this was absolutely adorable.

“That was kind of cute.” A new voice joined the party.

Heisenberg immediately broke away from you with a new fire in him. Hatred was in his eyes as he stared at Miranda, who silently appeared while this whole thing was going down.

“Where the fuck did you come from?!” He shouted at her as you tried to hide a smile. Miranda simply gave Heisenberg one of those patient “motherly” smiles as Alcina glared at him.

“Show her some respect!” She hissed at Heisenberg, who merely flipped her off.

Now you’ve seen that your man has reached his limits, and everyone knows about your relationship now. However, you now see that Heisenberg wasn’t really all just about protecting you.

He just didn’t want to get teased by the others.

“Karl...” the use of his first name by Miranda caused everyone, including Heisenberg, to shut up.

“...do I need to keep an eye on you?” She stated in a motherly tone, smirking slightly when she heard her other children snickering.

You literally had to drag Heisenberg out of there as he cussed everyone off, but not before he gave Mother Miranda the middle finger.

Well, that could’ve gone way worse. At least no one was killed.

#resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil imagines #resident evil village imagines #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine

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turesti · 1 year

Text

Doing Something Unholy

Nessian assassin AU. Unedited rough draft & preview. Wrote this super quickly on my phone, but just wanted to at least get a preview of it out before I try writing more

Present

It’s been 457 days since they last saw her. The last time there was a confirmed sighting left 49 dead, 123 injured, and the person that they were detailed to protect spewing blood all over the carpet. The amount of money spent by whoever bought such a massacre made bile rise up Cassian’s throat. Even worse was remembering how easily she had slipped out of his fingers.

Lady Death

The Hellcat

For a while he and the team believed that they were separate people, apparently she answered to both names easily. He had punched a wall so hard it left a dent coming back from that disaster of a peace summit that almost started a second war between the two polarized countries,. He was so close. And yet she would always be just out of his reach.

Three Years Ago

The base of nightclub’s song reverberated in his ears even as he breathed in the cold air as he stood outside the building. His head was already somewhere else when Cassian first entered the club, now it was still nowhere to be found but with a migraine too. The deep breaths had lingered in the chill in front of him. Of all the times he had actually stuck to his resolution to quit smoking. He was supposed to be clearing his head tonight, blowing off steam from another failure. His failure. None of his friends would ever say that to him, but it was the truth. It was his lead. He lost the targets. They got away.

The anger had him clenching his jaw so hard, it worsened the already skull splitting ache in his temples. He needed a better distraction. He needed to be alone from the people he loved, but honestly couldn’t help him in this moment at all. Cassian did enjoy going out dancing with friends, his family, but tonight wasn’t working. It had been the five year anniversary of when Feyre’s sister had went off the radar, Cassian knew that they had a fraught relationship to begin with, but Feyre and Elain had taken it hard when the eldest Archeron just slipped out when night and never came back home. Apparently it’s what she was good at, disappearing without leaving a trace. Rhys did everything money could buy to find her, even though he cared more about a snail than the sister who caused Feyre’s sadness, he would find her for Feyre. Nothing ever came up. Not even Azriel could find a hint of a trail that could lead up to her. She was just gone. A ghost was all that was left of Nesta Archeron.

Tensions were fraught tonight. The main two reasons being the reminder of a missing sister and a failed operation. It seemed like going out and carrying on how they usually did was the bandaid that was supposed to ease everyone. Cassian just didn’t have it in him to pretend to be jovial. He was frustrated and angry at himself, faking a smile in strobe lights was the last thing he wanted to do. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Az asking to rely the message not to wait up for him, he knew out of everyone Az would understand that he needed to find peace of mind on his own tonight, without being talked out of it. Pocketing his phone back into his jeans and hands inside the worn leather jacket that kept even the dampest colds out, he made his way down the street.

The dive bar where he was currently occupying a bar stool was not the most welcoming place to be. It was also not a huge deterrent either. A perfect in between nice enough and seedy to be comfortable in. The seats didn’t have some unknown sticky residue, but it wasn’t nearly nice enough for it to be a date night spot. There was a decent enough amount of people here. He felt like goldy locks, a bar that was just right. He was nursing a simple liquor drink, he doubt this place would even honor the request a mixed cocktail no matter how much you wanted a margarita, when he saw a flash of brilliant and cold blue.

If part of him was being honest, a large he wanted to ignore, Cassian in part couldn’t stop thinking about this morning because of how beautiful those cold eyes were. It coated his stomach in an oily feeling, but it was bare truth. The girl’s eyes were stunning. She had taken off the outer mask she normally wore, leaving a solid black half mask that covered just over her nose and conceal the rest of her face. The black mask just enhanced the brilliance of her eyes, making it difficult to look away. It was also one of the only identifiers he had of the assassin that was part the group that royally kicked their asses. He had seen her in various scuffles before, but never fully close enough for him. He wanted to take her down. Lady Death. The Hellcat. Two hours before the first bomb went off at the museum, Az was able to finally prove that Lady Death and The Hellcat were one and the same. An assassin and a thief. Whatever paid the exuberant bills he supposed. She wore a uniform at every sighting, kept virtually every noticeable feature of hers hidden, even layered masks for fucks sake. Her new nickname should have something involving ghost in it, since there was nothing tangible about her. No DNA traces, no finer details to describe her; all they had to reference her was her build, her signature masks, the hood that covered her hair, and her damn eyes. Those eyes were looking at him from across the other side of the bar now.

#based a fair amount on Cheshire and Red Arrow #not sure how long this will be #no real plan just vibes #nessian #Nesta Archeron #cassian #acosf #acotar

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o5-blackbird · 2 years

Text

tw: repetition, emetophobia, and blood. Not visible to muses.

It was the same daze that he had been through a few times from now. The same one that he had vaguely talked to with Adam a couple of times — each time had been voiced with so much frustration and confusion and even hatred for seeing what felt like the most invasively horrible things to witness from someone else — while never once placing enough information to any of the nightmares that could earn the name to what he had really been witnessing.

Each time, it felt more unbearable than the last.

He could not explain it. He could not label it. He could not place a single word to the horrific feeling of seeing what he was witnessing and then talking to Eight and feigning that everything was completely fine while knowing he was doing the exact same thing.

What the fuck are you even supposed to do in that situation?

So every time, he had turned to Adam and asked for help — while simultaneously forcing himself to leave out every relevant detail in order to spare Eight the harm of having not only one but two people witness to... Everything.

That was all that Experimenter knew how to call it.

Everything.

Even then, talking to Adam Bright was only a temporary solution. Experimenter could still imagine that he was feeling smoke in his lungs and watering his eyes every time Adam's fireplace crackled a little too much or the searing tension of sitting at the fucking table while trying to eat his dinner as if Blackbird was going to suddenly spring up and crack the fucking pepper shaking across his face for being just a little too quiet.

Adam always had the same response. He'd tell him it sounded like it was just some kind of nightmare then send him off — it's not like anything could be done anyways and they both knew it and that's why Adam must have decided to finally ditch him when he'd gone looking for him just a week ago without even bothering to get back to him. He didn't blame him.

He had a harder time not blaming Eight.

He didn't know what the fuck was going on or why he kept seeing... Everything. That didn't change the fact he was still seeing it and he was still having to pretend that everything was fine and that Eight was still acting like everything was fine when Experimenter knew damn-well better.

He didn't blame him either. As frustrated as he was, he didn't blame Eight. The fact of the matter was that he couldn't blame him.

Eight hadn't deserved any of this, much less to be spited because of it...

Experimenter just needed him to be alright. It didn't matter how many times this happened, he just needed Eight to be alright and to have someone to have helped Eight out already by the next time they talked.

...

—And then Experimenter blinked out of his daze... Alone.

There was a soft dripping noise from somewhere in the room, barely audible over his own harsh breathing from where he was slumped harshly over his project, hands shaking and held rigidly clenched.

He could feel himself fighting back bile as he tried to regain his breath, unable to find enough to quite do the trick and leaving him to tighten his hand further. The soft dripping noise increased just faintly but fell into background noise in comparison to everything else; the lack of air, the burn in his throat, the sharp jagged pain in his hand, everything.

Even as the air slowly began to trickle inconsistently into his lungs, he continued to hold that same rigid harsh position.

He knew he was alone. He knew he was himself and he knew that he was alone in the office and that nobody else was there — for better or for worse.

He began to shift, trying to force himself to relax just a little bit just as he'd done the times before. He tried to focus his eyes on the project he had been working on before the daze had washed over him.

As his grip loosened just slightly, it took him a moment to recognize the sharp pain in his hand and to draw his attention to it, blinking as a couple of soft noises could be heard of the circuit board he had been clutched tight enough to snap in a few pieces clattered downwards, a few gentle droplets of red dripping down past his knuckles and to the ground.

He blinked, trying to steady himself on focusing on that alone despite the shake in his breath and the horrible tension still lingering in his entire body.

Slowly, he forced his attention back away, resolving to try to take everything one at a time. Breathing. He needed to calm that down first... He could worry about his hand and... Everything... Afterwards...

...

Experimenter shakingly dragged himself to sit up, trying to will away the images of everything he had just seen and hurting everyone... Slowly, he pulled his injured left hand to his chest and after a moment or two, he began to tap lightly, ignoring the slight sting it caused his palm.

Ring... Middle... Pinkie...

...

#a blackbird's tale #a tool of their trade #tw repetition #tw emetophobia #tw blood

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vermilionhealth · 6 months

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#Alzheimer #healthy living #health tips #weight loss #healthy life #healthy body #healthy weight loss

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mildkleptomaniac · 3 years

Text

brunch — jj maybank x kook!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: “ Can you do a jj x reader? He's a waiter at the club and her family is there for brunch, her parents don't know about their relationship and are kinda rude to him. Reader's done with their attitude and deffends jj and reveals their relationship by accident and her parents get mad. Love all your fics, you're so talented! ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: just some angst and an outburst! rude parents

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: sorry this took forever to get out! school semester just started, along with a new job. and I’m finally in the process of feeling better. I’m posting this on mobile so sorry if they layout is weird, but I hope you enjoy!

Y/N sat at the table, her parents sitting across from her as they stared at the menu. According to her parents, the world ran around them. They didn’t seem to care that they would take more than enough time to order and then usher the waiter over whenever it would be convenient for them. They would manage to make brunch turn into dinner with the amount of time they would sit at the table and slowly pick at the bread for an appetizer while slowly sipping their mimosas.

Y/N enjoyed going out for meals, but never with her parents. Sometimes she felt like she had to babysit them, especially with how they treated employees. She always apologized whenever the waiter would catch a glance at Y/N and she would give them an apologetic smile. Not to mention the amount of times she would slip in a few extra bills for the tip. Her parents were harsh when it came to the working class, which she didn’t quite understand.

But today at the Kildare Country Club, Y/N’s boyfriend would be their waiter.

JJ Maybank.

Y/N’s secret Pogue boyfriend. He was the boy that her parents would fear for her to fall in love with because they knew all too well about his family and their history. Her parents would remind her of the “better” selection of boys to pick from, which either included Kelce or Topper. Luckily her parents never mentioned Rafe Cameron—it’s almost like they knew in their gut that he wasn’t the best candidate to date.

Y/N’s parents feared that Pogues will just use her to get further in life and that she’s just some doormat to her friends. But that wasn’t the case at all, if anything—Y/N was the glue to the friend group after she began dating JJ.

A few lies a week would keep her parents fooled, thinking she was spending her time studying or volunteering when in reality, she was relaxing at the Chateau or lounging on the HMS Pogue in JJ’s lap as they sipped on cheap beers.

“Good morning, folks. My name is JJ and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” The blonde flashed his smile at the table, his eyes meeting Y/N’s. A comfort washed over the girl, his gaze always soothed any tension built in her body.

“Isn’t it Mimosa Sunday?” Her mother glanced upwards from the menu, voice flat.

“Yes, m’am. Bottomless Mimosas all Sunday.” JJ replied.

“Then get it started. Y/N would have a glass of water.” Her mother’s eyes flickered back to the menu. Y/N pursed her lips, shifting in her seat.

“What would you like to drink, miss?” JJ asked Y/N, ignoring her mother’s statement. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat.

“I’ll take a sweet ice tea, please. With a side of water, please.” She made sure to emphasize the word ‘please’ around her parents. A term to slip their vocabulary whenever they were brought face to face with the working class.

“Y/N, don’t waste your calories on a drink.” Her mother shook her head.

“It’d be okay and I don’t want to talk about that right now in front of the waiter.” She remarked through her teeth, eyes looking back between her parents and her boyfriend.

“One sweet tea and bottomless Mimosas coming right up.” He jotted the order on his pad before turning on his heel. Y/N’s father cleared his throat and it caught JJ’s attention.

“Young man, we weren’t done ordering. We would like to place an order for an appetizer.”

Y/N could feel her shoulders ache from how pinched they were with tension. Her parents absolutely embarrassed her to no end with their lack of consideration or manners. She’s surprised they got this far in life by treating people like this. They were no different than any other person.

“We would like the Mini Herb Smoked Salmon Frittatas with Deviled Eggs.” Y/N’s father read off the menu.

“I’ll get that in as soon as possible, sir. And I’ll be right out with the drinks.” He smiled before walking away. He glanced back at his girlfriend and sent her a reassuring smile, trying to let her know that he was doing okay.

She knew her parents weren’t the worse to deal with, but they could be difficult.

“I’m surprised they allow a Maybank to work at this establishment. He probably steals all the soaps and colognes from the bathroom and sells them on the street.” Her father laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh honey, you’re probably right. His father is such a sleaze, I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes the boy bring home scraps from the dumpster!”

“I’m sorry, but what the hell is wrong with you both?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared in distaste at her parent’s banter.

“Excuse me, young lady. Watch your language.” Her father reprimanded.

“Excuse me? Excuse you! You don’t even know JJ and you’re talking poorly about him. Obviously, he is working hard to make money. Bold of you to assume that he isn’t a hard worker—but he is. Do you not see him mowing lawns for the neighbors? Helping Hayward run groceries on the docks? If his family’s wealth is such an issue to you, why not help donate clothes and food to him?” Y/N’s outburst caught other tables' attention. She stood up in her spot, her hands clenching the table cloth.

“Y/N, you are causing a scene. You need to sit down right now or else you’re in major trouble.” Her mother’s voice was sharp.

JJ walked to the table, pretending to be oblivious to his girlfriend’s statements, which the whole restaurant practically heard her defending him. “Here are the Mimosas and the sweet tea. The starters will be out shortly. Can I get you anything else in the meantime?” He faked a smile.

“I don’t care if I’m causing a scene, because you’re causing a problem! You’re being rude for absolutely I reason towards JJ.” She remained standing and JJ stood there awkwardly, unsure of what the right move would be in this situation.

“Why do you care about this, Pogue? He has no meaning to our lives—he doesn’t benefit society, sweetheart.” Her father spoke in a softer tone.

“You’re unbelievable, dad! JJ Maybank is a human being who works to survive! He isn’t some scummy person and—in fact, he is my boyfriend! Mom, Dad, meet my boyfriend, JJ Maybank.” Y/N finally snapped and she gestured towards the blonde who stood there. He looked like a deer in headlights.

“Y/N, stop embarrassing the poor boy at work and yourself.” Her mother’s face grew red—she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment herself.

“I’m not embarrassing myself, mom. This is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months now and this is where I’ve been. I’ve been dating a Pogue. You’re sweet, precious daughter is dating this Pogue. And he is actually fantastic and cares about me—more than you two ever do!” She threw her fabric napkin on the table before reaching into her purse. She pulled out a rather large dollar bill and stuffed it into JJ’s pocket. “Here is a tip that they won’t be giving you, babe. But I think you deserve it.” Y/N kissed his cheek before walking away from the table.

JJ cleared his throat and looked around the area, “would you like a different waiter, today?”

Y/N went inside the Country Club and paced around the entrance way. She ran a hand through her hair and she tried calming herself down. She had never had that much confidence to confront her parents like that, but she knew she would face the consequences when she would go home.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she turned around to face her boyfriend.

“JJ—I am so sorry all of that happened and—“ He interrupted her by cupping her cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad and defending me.” He whispered against her lips. She let out a light laugh and they kissed once more. “You don’t need to apologize babe, what you did was awesome. Insane, but awesome.”

“My parents are going to kill me,” she laughed again. The reality setting in quickly.

“Then stay at the Chateau with me tonight. What’s gonna happen that’s not already? Plus, we can sleep together and I can have you tell everyone how you had a scene at brunch.” He teased, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

“That…that sounds nice.” She sighed, closing her eyes. JJ pressed a kiss to the temple of her head.

“I also put in your breakfast order if you wanna eat at the bar. I used the money you gave me for it.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked at him gratefully.

“You’re the best, J. I love you,”

“Even if I’m a Pogue?”

“Most definitely if you’re a Pogue. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

taglist: @abbyg217 @taylathornton @lemur46 @urdadsapussy @webmeupspiderdaddy @rosarosse @5sos-fic-recs @littlethingsinmymind @pogueslandia @mrs-cameron @starduststarkey @jjshoeobx29872 @caswinchester2000 @starksvixen @mrs-talia-cameron @newtpsd @rottenstyx @professional-busboy @hallecarey1 @alwaysclassyeagle @cake2coke @siriusbutalsono @princessmaybank @wolfstar-lb @jorja-cameron @emeraldheartbreaker @nicavass

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #( jj maybank )#jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #obx imagines #jj maybank x kook!reader #kook!reader

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

Text

the 1995 brits (pt. 2) x damon albarn & liam gallagher

ok this has nothing to do with the brits bc now its about glastonbury 1995 i just didn't know whether i should rename it lmaoo okay enjoy x

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn & liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: none at all

Word count: 2.495

part one

༉‧₊˚✧

The Glastonbury festival was always one of the best gatherings for music every year. All the best acts in the music would all be invited to perform, and it was amazing. It formed a unity, a connection between the fans and the artists, the creators and the consumers, morphing an atmosphere which only gentrified the solidarity and wholeness the nation felt when they all held adoration to the same album, same songs, singing the choruses from their hearts, with their whole being. It was a spiritual connection with the audience; you weren’t singing to them, you were singing with them. Nothing got as good as Glastonbury - a concert size any larger you would begin to feel detached with the audience - and boy was it a good feeling to be invited this year. Our band had blown up massively, and to be able to perform on the main stage, celebrating the summer and the true joys that music is able to provide and attain, is more than just doing your part. It’s a humbling experience; the lyrics that may have seemingly been written down as a daft thought on the back of a napkin whilst you were sitting having a coffee, relaxing in the tedious cycle that is life, being chanted back to you, shows the true connection those can have with simple melodies and lyrics. Once it’s released in any format, the music, the lyrics, the melodies, they aren’t yours; just as a book, once released, is not the authors’ anymore. It possesses the ownership of the public, that who purchases it, wears it out, listens to the songs back to back to memorise every single lyric and adlib. The songs become the nation's songs, they become the mere link to a dozen memories of each and every person, which they would take to their grave, remembering the good times, and potentially the bad. The true power of music is that it forms a connection - not just with the artist, but with yourself. You can relate to whatever has been said, you can understand yourself just that bit more which allows you to grow as a person, and mature and better into the person that you were set out to be.

I was standing backstage, currently watching the performance lead by Blur, trying to hide from any form of authority who would know that I wasn’t supposed to be back here yet. My band was on in a few hours, so I wasn’t permitted backstage, the only people allowed being the group that was on next. As I admired the performance being put on by Damon and the rest of the band, mumbling lyrics every now and again of songs that I had known from their albums, I felt an arm snake its way around my waist, the grip of the person’s palm squeezing my hip slightly. “Now how come I haven’t seen your pretty face in a while?” said Liam, who was grinning at me widely.

Since the Brit awards, I forced myself to stop partying as much as I used to, due to the addiction that had been stemming from my consistent use of drugs and alcohol. It began to take its toll on me entirely, and I hated the lifestyle that I had started to inhabit. Sex, booze, drugs... they all seem so wonderful, and seem to be fundamental elements that could provide an enjoyable time, don't they? But with repetitive use of such recreational activities, it would not only initiate the worst hangovers, but would also form a pit of longing in the body, endured with your attempt to fill it up with all the illegal pharmaceuticals to make you feel whole again, but of course, the happiness only lasts for a short while before you’re passed out on a couch, waking up at 5 in the afternoon with a raging headache and the only access to pain medication being a five minute walk to the nearest corner shop because you had finished it all. And to your surprise, the pit only got more deep and paining. It was ironic; the drugs designed for jubilation, euphoria, fulfillment, started to make me feel worse than I had already done previously. “I’ve just been caught up with working on the new album, so I’ve been too focused on that to be going out like I used to,” I replied, a grin masked over my lips. It was far from a lie; my band were currently working on our third album, and it had been quite an interesting experience as we were reinventing our sound, though wasn’t the main reason I had avoided all clubs in sight. “You miss me?”

“Course I do, you’re the only girl I know that’ll go as hard as the rest of the lads,” a frown painted over his face as he looked down on me. “It’s hot, y’know.”

I scoffed, my smile still evident on my face. “Oh Liam, you’re going to make me blush!” I joked, placing my arm around his waist. We both carried on watching the performance being led by Damon, who currently had the crowd screaming over the top of their heads at Girls and Boys. Oasis were on after - even these concerts were chipping in on the mess of their feud. “You nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? Never.” Liam replied, snarling at my question.

“Really?” I asked, diverting my stare to look up at Liam, my eyebrows raised in a sarcastic manner. Even though it wasn’t evident from his facial expression, everybody would be nervous. Especially if you were performing on the main stage in a few minutes.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.” He mumbled, staring at Damon with a look of disgust on his face.

“Knew it,” I grinned, allowing my hand to run up and down his back as a form of comfort to soothe his nerves. The tight grip he kept consistent on my waist proved that he felt tense. “You’ll be amazing, you always are.”

“You hitting on me?” he quickly fired back, cocking his head to the side as he admired me, his gaze flicking to my lips every now and again.

“Of course I am.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes at Liam’s child-like characteristics. By now Blur had finished their set, leaving the crowd screaming and waving things in the air as a form of goodbye. Me and Liam stayed put in our place as the four boys waltzed off the stage, me congratulating them as they walked off one by one. Damon was the last to walk off, and as he began strolling off the stage proudly, our eyes connected, causing me to dart my stare away from his robust glare that had reflected off of his orbs. Knowing of his distaste in Liam, I brushed it off immediately, remembering the pettiness of their argument the last time we had all been together at the Brits. I heard Liam utter some profanity under his breath after Damon walked past us, but I chose not to question him on it, full-well knowing it was either wanker or cunt.

When the rest of the band turned up and Oasis were on cue to go on, Liam quickly detached himself from our embrace, pressing his lips to my cheek, grinning at me widely. “Don’t miss me too much!” he shouted as he walked onto the stage, causing the crowd to erupt into a fit from the mere sight of the band getting themselves ready - Liam just standing there cooly, picking up the tambourine left on the floor for him. I marvelled at the band as they began their set, instantly grinning as soon as Liam began singing the lyrics to Rock n Roll star. Let’s hope he’s not walking off stage this time.

I continued to concentrate on their performance, oftentimes laughing as the crowd progressively got more and more rowdy, screaming the lyrics as Liam sang them, as if Noel’s backing vocals weren’t enough to keep the song going to its full potential. “I wonder when you’re going to realise that you like me.” I heard a voice mutter from behind, causing me to abruptly turn my head, even though I knew exactly who it was. My eyes were greeted with the sight of Damon, a small smirk illustrated on his lips as he glued his eyes on mine - just like he had done before when he walked past me and Liam.

“I’m sorry?” I scoffed, raising my eyebrows at his clearly egotistical assumption, though I couldn’t help but resist a smile to contract on my cheeks as I gazed at him. Much like me and Liam, we also hadn’t spoken since the Brit awards, and it would’ve been a lie if I hadn’t wanted to talk to him again. Despite the fact that there was a certain tension between us that, from each meeting, seemed to intensify, and was something we were both clearly aware of, I ignored it entirely - even if my bandmates had teased me religiously every time they saw me have an encounter with him. Go out with him already! You two are constantly flirting!

Moving away from where I was standing, I made my way over to him to be able to talk over the loud music seeping out of the speakers, instead of shouting at one another. We then exited the backstage area together, welcoming us to the view of a plain grassland where a couple trailers had been parked, both of our bands included. Eventually, we walked to one of the random trailers, assuming it was his one, and stood against the shiny metal impediment as we shared a cigarette.

“Don’t act like it’s not true,” he replied casually, him reciprocating my grin as we began to walk further into the backstage space. “I saw the way you were eyeing me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I replied, attempting to act oblivious towards his statement. I could feel him gawking, focused on me as I admired the blooming sunlight that casted out towards us, the light so bright that it caused my eyes to tear up slightly. The music was still very much audible, and the screams of the many thousands jammed together in the mosh pit were still extremely loud.

“Oh, but you do.” he mumbled, causing me to shift my view to look at him. He had now fixated his stare onto the sun, the cigarette softly placed between his lips as he inhaled quickly before taking it out and allowing the built-up smoke from his lungs to escape into the atmosphere. Dropping the tobacco roll onto the ground, he placed his foot over it in order to burn it out, then turning his head to fixate his gaze onto mine. A brief moment of silence passed as we admired one another, the atmosphere carrying an element of apprehension as to what was about to occur between us. Through my peripheral I saw moving his body slightly to come closer to mine as he lifted his back off the metal surface and stood in front of me, my gaze not daring to leave him. Our eyes maintained strong eye contact as I felt my cheeks began to heat up furiously, followed by my attempt on telling myself that it was simply due to the sun’s radiance that my face held such warmth, almost as if to doubt the feelings, the tensions that had constantly piled up every time we had seen one another.

Our noses touched as our faces then became inches apart, my eyes focused on Damon, who kept darting his eyes to my lips every few seconds. Tilting his head slightly, he leaned his body forward, softly pressing his lips onto mine. We stood there for a few seconds, to allow the moment to truly sink in. His hands were gently placed on my waist as I placed them on his arms, like a form of support to allow myself to stay upright. After a while, I snaked my hands around his neck in order to deepen the kiss, the warmth of his lips colliding against mine sending shocks all around my body - the moment didn’t feel real at all. It was as if this entire time of me knowing of him, interacting with him, being in his presence, I had attempted to avoid myself catching feelings, not getting myself engraved in a situation with another musician, but due to my mind forcing such a hindrance, it became an inevitability - I caught feelings for Damon Albarn.

As we pulled away to catch our breaths, Damon leaned back, sneaking his arms around my waist as he looked down on me. “You liked that.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t wait for Liam to find out about this.” he grinned, playing with strands of my hair as I glared at him. I knew he was aware of the glare I was giving him, because he seemingly began to grin even wider.

“He won’t, because you’re not going to tell him.” I replied bluntly, placing my hands on his chest as I began to draw little circles over his shirt. It felt so surreal, yet so normal - there was a certain amenity shared between us proving that what was felt in the past was indeed real, and indeed reciprocated.

“Always knew you’d give in one day.” he mumbled, a devilish grin painted on his lips.

“Really?” I scoffed. “Even when the tabloids were convinced me and Gallagher were an item?” I asked, staring straight into his eyes. I noticed him frown slightly after the question left my mouth, my lips attempting to form into a smile as I broke off his smug persona.

“Well it looks like you’ve left Liam to be with me.” he grinned, our eyes connecting once again. I took his hand away from my hair to interlace it with mine, holding it close to my chest for Damon to be able to feel my heartbeat. Even though anybody could have opened their trailer door and witnessed us in such an affectionate state, none of that seemingly mattered to either one of us. Everything that had occurred between me and Damon felt so perfect, to the point that I would want somebody to come and witness the true beauty of this moment. There was a strong feeling in my chest that I wanted him to feel, to understand, that what was occurring between us truly meant something, and wasn’t just a silly little play to mess with my feelings.

“Liam’s not that bad you know.”

“I’m just joking, love, don’t worry.” he mumbled, bringing our interlaced hands to his face to allow him to kiss the back of my hand. “You wanna go get something to eat before you head on?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” I said, forcing us to detach our bodies from our embrace and walk over to one of the food stalls, hand in hand.

#damon albarn x reader #Liam gallagher x reader #Liam gallagher #damon albarn #blur #blur band #oasis band #my writing #band imagines #fluff #nineties #90s #music

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blazingparker · 3 years

Text

What’s Up, Danger?

**so this is the fic that the lovely @snowstark allowed me to run by them to make sure it made sense to other people and not just my own brain. i really, really hope you enjoy it!

read it on ao3!

Summary: When Peter Parker gets bitten by a radioactive spider in his college’s lab, he doesn’t expect anything that comes next. Not becoming Spider-Man, not being hunted down by the Avengers, and definitely not a secret friendship with Tony Stark.

“So, let me get this straight. You want us to hunt down the one superhero in New York City that’s not mooching off my bank account, force him to tell us who he is, and then try and get him to join the team?” Tony could not believe what he was hearing. He sat back in his seat at the head of the table and stared straight ahead at Nick Fury.

“We don’t know that he’s a superhero,” Fury drawled, relaxing in his chair at the other end of the table. “He could be more evil than we know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the guy plucking kittens out of trees and helping lost old Dominican ladies with directions is a supervillain in the making,” Tony deadpanned, clearly not impressed.

“Tony, orders are orders.” God, Steve was infuriating.

“Tell me, do you ever question anything or are you a walking lapdog?” Tony and Steve glared at each other until Natasha cleared her throat, breaking the tension in the room.

“Look, we’ll bring him in.” At Tony’s look of indignance, she raised a hand. “There’s no reason to go out there guns blazing, though. He hasn’t done anything to warrant that. If we show up looking ready to fight, he’ll avoid us. We will handle this professionally. With tact.” On the last word she stared pointedly at Tony, who pretended not to notice.

“So long as this ends with us knowing who’s behind the mask, I don’t care how you get it done,” Fury said as he stood. “I’ll let Pierce know you’re on board. That should get the prick off my back for a while.” With that, he left the room to the six Avengers sitting around the table.

“What is it with you and going along with whatever SHIELD wants?” Tony barked out, and Steve crossed his arms.

“SHIELD knows what’s best to keep this world safe. We should trust them to give us missions that are important and best left unquestioned.”

“Yeah, I don’t think telling us to beat up the guy who saved the owner of that deli that got blown up last week qualifies.” Tony huffed out an irritated sigh.

“Look, let’s just try and approach him one-on-one,” Natasha suggested. “That way no one feels threatened. Maybe one of us can form a relationship with the guy, get him to trust us.” When no one voiced an objection, she continued. “Tony, you can go first since you’re so protective of the guy.”

“Protective?! I am not-” Natasha left the room before Tony could finish.

---

The first thing Tony noticed when observing Spider-Man was that the guy had absolutely no self-preservation instincts. He literally flung himself off the top of a building, whooping and hollering all the way down until he almost made a little spider puddle on the ground before finally shooting out a web and swinging away. The guy ran into a burning building without a second thought and came back out with a kid in his arms.

That last incident was how Tony finally had the chance to speak with him. By tracking him with JARVIS, he saw that Spider-Man had stopped at a local playground. It looked like he was taking a breather, and was even more likely given the guy had just inhaled massive amounts of smoke. He suited up and flew over to the spot, clearly catching Spider-Man by surprise.

“Hey there, Spider-Man. Or should I call you Danger-Man, since you seem to have a knack for running right towards it?” Tony landed a respectable distance from where Spider-Man was perched on top of the jungle gym.

“What can I do for you?” Okay, so Spider-Man was young. His voice told Tony that much.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. Nick Fury sent me. Us. The Avengers. But it’s just me for now.” Already, Spider-Man had visibly tensed. If Tony could see his eyes behind those pathetic goggles, he’d bet good money that they had narrowed considerably.

“What do you want.” Spider-Man said, his tone conveying it was a demand that Tony tell him now, not a question anymore.

“We want to know who you are. What makes you tick. What made you put on that god awful excuse for a suit and run into a burning building today.”

“Not all of us are billionaires, Stark. Some of us have to work with what we’ve got, and I haven’t really got much.” Tony’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile at that and he huffed out a laugh. Spider-Man’s quips were infamous, and now he could see why. The guy was good.

“Look,” Tony allowed his faceplate to flip up. Maybe that would help relax the agitated vigilante in front of him. Being able to look at his eyes had to be better than a titanium-alloy mask. “For the record, I was against this plan. I told Mr. Eyepatch up there that we should leave you alone.”

“Then why aren’t you?” Spider-Man sounded a little surprised at that admission.

“I got outvoted. The Avengers are a democracy, apparently. Cap’s a real bitch about it. I preferred the authoritarian model.” Tony sniffed, glancing away before looking back at Spider-Man when he chuckled quietly.

“Good to know you really are the big happy family that they show on the news,” Spider-Man shot back. Tony couldn’t help a real grin from forming that time.

“Oh yeah, big time. Ever seen Annie? It’s like that. Except Annie is actually the entire team and I’m Daddy Warbucks for all of them.” After a moment of shared laughter, things grew quiet again. Tony took a step forward, counting it as a win when Spider-Man didn’t scramble to get away.

“I’ll leave you alone from now on, since that’s clearly what you want. On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Spider-Man sounded wary but intrigued.

“Gimme your number.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Just because I’m gonna leave you alone doesn’t mean the others will. If they pull some stupid shit while trying to convince you to tell them who you are, I wanna know. Give me your number.”

“How would I call you if you have my number?”

“I’ll call you first.” Tony was surprised to find he actually truly did mean it. Spider-Man just stared at him for a second before rattling off a phone number and disappearing into the night.

This definitely wasn’t ideal. Tony knew that. But at least this way he had a way of knowing if the team went too far in their attempts to complete the mission.

Grinning, Tony plugged the number into his phone before hesitating over the space left for the contact’s name. He didn’t know Spider-Man’s identity, and definitely couldn’t plug in Spider-Man in case anyone ever saw. Remembering his very first quip to the vigilante, his thumbs flew over the screen.

Danger.

---

Over the course of the next few weeks, Tony and Spider-Man struck up a routine. After each encounter with the Avengers, Spider-Man would give him a call and let him know how it went down. Luckily, things hadn’t gotten violent yet.

Tony was also finding himself...attached. To this masked vigilante from Queens. Something that made absolutely no sense and was probably going to end in disaster for them both. This guy clearly wanted nothing to do with the Avengers - no matter how friendly the two of them had become.

A ringtone disrupted Tony from his thoughts and he grabbed his phone, smiling a little when he read the screen.

Incoming call from: Danger

“What’s up, Danger?” Tony asked as he answered, pushing back from the lab table he was stationed at and walking to the window.

“Are you ever not going to answer the phone that way?” An exasperated voice came from the other end of the line. Tony grinned. He’d taken to always answering with the same “what’s up, danger?” First, it had been because he didn’t want anyone to walk in and hear him greeting Spider-Man. But slowly, it was becoming an inside joke with the two of them.

“Not a chance. But c’mon, gimme the rundown,” Tony said, gazing out over the New York City skyline as though he might see Spider-Man if he looked hard enough.

“Cap and Widow came this time. Gave me the same rundown, telling me they were running out of options and didn’t want to have to resort to other measures,” Spider-Man informed him. His voice dipped lower on the last few words in an imitation of Steve’s voice. Tony’s blood ran cold at that, and he quickly sat down on the nearest chair.

Why was he so afraid for Spider-Man all of a sudden? They were just pals. The guy was a vigilante that clearly had enhanced strength and other powers and could take care of himself.

“What the hell does that mean?” Tony asked, clenching his jaw.

“I didn’t exactly stick around to find out,” Spider-Man said with a laugh. “You could ask him though.”

“And risk him finding out exactly how I knew of this threat? Not a chance. Then things would just get worse,” Tony explained with a sigh.

“You really don’t need to be so worried. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not worried.” The words came out just a little bit too fast, and Spider-Man chuckled.

“Sure, Tones.” The nickname sent..something through Tony. Not affection. It was not affection. Nothing like that. “Anyway, I gotta hang up. Got readings to get done.”

“So you’re in college!” Tony cried triumphantly, waving a hand in the air to try and tell JARVIS to add that to the file he had on Spider-Man. When there was silence on the other end of the line, he sobered up a bit. “I’m not gonna look into it. Promise.”

Another beat of silence.

“Alright. Talk to you later, Tony.”

---

The next time Tony’s phone rang, he was eating dinner with Natasha and Rhodey after being dragged out of his lab. When he saw Danger flash across the screen, he quickly excused himself and walked out of hearing range.

“What’s up, Danger?”

“Would you tell Hawkeye over there to quit it with the arrow-fest?” Tony’s eyebrows just about disappeared into his hairline and he clutched the phone a little tighter. He could hear Spider-Man’s breath coming fast, like he’d just finished swinging. He probably had.

“The what?” He asked, voice edging on a growl.

“He and Thor showed up, tried to ask me again. When I made it clear I wasn’t interested in joining the Brady Bunch and tried to leave, he took a shot at me. Without my danger sense, I definitely would’ve been hit.” Another interesting fact about Spider-Man, but Tony couldn’t pay attention to that now.

“He-fuck, I’m so sorry. That was never-I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Tony ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly.

“It’s fine, Tony. You didn’t take the shot at me,” Spider-Man insisted. “I can handle a few pissed-off Avengers. Really.” After a moment of Tony trying to come up with a response, the vigilante spoke again with a softer voice. “Tony, I’m okay. It’s not your fault. I’m not hurt, I’m safe at home.”

Somehow, the knot that had been growing in Tony’s chest eased at hearing Spider-Man was safe at home. He nodded before realizing he was on the phone and that response wouldn’t really work. “Alright, as long as you’re safe.” Where the hell did that come from? “I-I hate to cut this short but I walked out on Rhodey and Nat and-”

“-and if you’re gone too long, the jig is up. No worries, I get it. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Tony couldn’t stop a smile at the understanding in the man’s voice.

“Talk tomorrow.”

---

After that phone call, Spider-Man’s run-ins with the Avengers got increasingly volatile. While Clint had admitted to losing his cool when he shot the arrow and acknowledged it had been a mistake, they’d lost whatever trust they’d built up with Spider-Man.

Well, the others had. Not Tony.

Each encounter had more biting remarks than the last, and their duration was getting shorter and shorter. The Avengers had even tried catching up to him multiple times in one night. All that resulted in was an exhausted, irritated Spider-Man - Tony could hear it in his voice when they spoke on the phone.

Tony was working on a new suit in the lab when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was nearly two in the morning. His crooked heart started beating a little faster at that - only one person would call him so late.

“What’s up, Danger?” Tony asked cheerfully as he picked up the phone. The cheer dissipated immediately when he didn’t get a response. All he could hear was labored breathing and a groan of pain. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Hey, Tony,” Spider-Man answered, words slurring together. Tony immediately moved to his closest functional suit, letting JARVIS transfer the call over as he got into it.

“What happened?” Tony tried his best to keep the panic from edging into his voice. The faceplate closed and he could see JARVIS running a tracking program, trying to find out where Spider-Man had last been seen.

“No big deal. ‘S just a guy. He had a big knife. Huge. ‘S not safe for the neighborhood,” Spider-Man answered. Tony felt a chill run through him - Spider-Man had been stabbed ? His danger sense never allowed anyone to land a blow.

“Apparently not so safe for neighborhood Spider-Men either,” he quipped with a shaky voice. “Are you doing okay? Have something to stop the bleeding?”

“Does pavement count?” Even in an injured state, the guy was still churning out one-liners like it was nothing.

“I have located Spider-Man, sir,” JARVIS piped up. “Plotting the fastest course.” Tony whirled around, blasting the nearest window and watching it shatter before shooting out of it at top speed.

“Why didn’t you dodge it?” Tony asked, desperate to keep Spider-Man talking to him until he could get there.

“Danger sense isn’t workin’.” Spider-Man’s voice was significantly quieter at that, like he was ashamed.

“Faster, JARVIS! Why not?” Tony barked the command at his AI but softened his voice for the injured vigilante.

“Tired.” The one-word answer was enough. Even if the Avengers hadn’t struck Spider-Man directly since the incident with Clint, they’d caused this. Their persistence had worn down a decent man to the point where he couldn’t defend himself against the common criminals of Queens. That wasn’t what they were supposed to be about, and Tony felt disgusted just thinking about it.

Luckily, he didn’t have to for much longer. The suit began to descend towards a rooftop in a sketchier area of Queens, and Tony spotted the red and blue jumpsuit the guy insisted on wearing. The faceplate flipped up as he landed and knelt next to the form lying on the ground.

“What’s up, Danger?” Tony asked, trying to tease as he gently pushed away the blood-soaked fabric to get a look at the wound.

“Oh my god, this again? Just leave me to die.” Spider-Man groaned, but didn’t push Tony away. The older man laughed, shaking his head. He then pointed his index and middle fingers at the wound, allowing a healing gel to spray out of the suit and onto the injury. It was a new creation of Tony’s - it would stop the bleeding and keep the wound stable until they reached a medbay and could get real medical attention.

“There we go, Spider-Man. We do need to get you properly fixed up, though. This is a temporary solution.” Tony said, leaning over the man still lying there limply. Slowly, Spider-Man brought a hand up to his head. Tony thought he was feeling for blood, and watched in shock as the hand gripped the hood of his mask and tugged it off.

Of course he’s hot, was the first thing that went through Tony’s mind. Floppy brown hair, soft pink lips, and those big eyes that reminded him of a certain deer from an animated Disney movie. Spider-Man shifted slightly, trying to sit up with a quiet groan, and Tony rushed to support him and help hold him up. Spider-Man looked up at him and gave him a crooked grin.

“It’s Peter,” he said. His name. Tony smiled brightly in return.

“What’s up, Peter?”

#blazingparker writes #starker #starker fic #peter parker x tony stark

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machinegunbun · 3 years

Note

Pls pls pls do more of Dirty Little Secret🥺 It was so good I want more

Dirty Laundry +

Tw: WHOLE LOTTA ANGST BABEY Word count?: 1.9k

The room was silent.

You couldn’t even describe the air as full of tension, it felt more like all the air in the room had been sucked out entirely. Pete just stared at you, his expression like he had a sour taste in his mouth. The thought of you with his best friend, something you so clearly knew you should tell him, being kept as a secret. There was no way it was anything but intentional, and he had to wonder if Colson and you had planned to never tell him.

You felt like you were being interrogated, not sure where to start, the all too bright lights in contrast to the dark room, all eyes on you, the man in front of you just waiting for you to slip up and confess the murder. He knew.

It didn’t entirely matter that you didn’t know what to say, because Pete didn’t know what to ask. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

It would’ve been different if you had told him before you got together, but now all he could think about was how Colson had seen every part of you before him. His best friend had seen you in the same way he had and still had the guts to look him in the eye and say how happy he was that you two had finally gotten together.

Pete knew you had slept with men before him, obviously, but this felt different. There was a pang of hurt in his chest as he wondered if it was misogynistic of him to care. It was before you had begun dating, he reasoned, it was your body, but it still felt wrong. He hoped he wasn’t wrong for feeling that, never quite confident in his own emotions.

Questions floated around in his head until he finally decided to grab one out of the air.

“You fucked him.” It was more of a statement.

“Yes.” You admit, your voice low and full of guilt

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes. I told him I felt guilty and I wanted you to know and he told me not to. He said it would only make things worse if I did, that it would ruin our relationship and his. I tried to convince him the whole time he was here, but he convinced me not to.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Pete questioned, his words hitting you right in your stomach.

“It’s the truth.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying? How do I know you didn’t convince him not to tell me?”

“Wait, why do you believe him? I get it, I didn’t tell you and I should’ve, I own that, but that’s not fair. He lied too, why is he innocent in this all of the sudden?” You ask, Colson was the one who initiated the sex in the first place. Pete should’ve known you would’ve never been brave enough to start something like that, especially with a guy like Colson. You weren’t a victim, but you refused to be portrayed as the villain.

“I don’t know. I just- I don’t know anymore.” Pete shrugged, standing up and walking to the kitchen. You hesitated, but followed after him.

“I get it, okay. It’s awkward and you aren’t sure how to feel-”

“Don’t tell me what I feel.” Pete snapped

“I’m not, I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m just trying to let you know that it’s okay if you’re mad at me or hurt. I want to let you know I love you and I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“But you didn’t. Colson did. Over the phone. The only reason I even found out is because I called him because you were crying about how you weren’t good enough for me.” He paused to hastily pour himself a drink “and then you begged me not to call him. You knew what he would say, didn’t you?”

“No, I-”

“The fact that both of you hung out with me multiple times, listened to me as I talked about the other- I told him I wanted to marry you the other day. He didn’t even mention it. Do you know how much that sucks?” Pete rants, cutting you off once more.

“You wanted to marry me?” You whisper. He went silent at the confession, the pain and confusion evident in his eyes.

“Listen, like he said, the second I realized there was something between us we stopped. I genuinely thought we would only ever be friends.”

“Maybe we should have.”

“You don’t mean that.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing him or yourself. “I don’t love him, okay? I love you. I never loved him, it was just sex and with you it was never just sex. It was never just kissing. It was never just laughing together. Everything means more to me when it’s with you and I really hope we can get through this.” You plead, only realizing Pete had gone silent when you stopped talking.

Pete reached onto the counter to grab a blunt from the ashtray, taking a long hit from it and letting the smoke pour from his lungs, his eyes going dead as he stared at the wall.

“And I know it’s weird,” You continued, it being evident that Pete didn’t have much to say, your only path being to plead your case or otherwise be convicted “but the point of relationships are to work together through your problems. We’ve both obviously moved on, not that there was anything to move on from, just that-”

“What are you building up to?” He asks impatiently.

“I’m just trying to explain myself.”

“Explain what? You fucked my best friend and never planned on telling me. What if I had fucked (Y/B/F)? It would be completely different right now.”

“Okay, I get that the tensions are high right now but I need you to drop the attitude. I did plan on telling you, your ‘best friend’ told me not to. Why do you keep forgetting that he did this too?”

“He’s not here, this isn’t about him right now it’s about me and you. It’ll be about me and him later. I’m not going to talk about everything he did wrong to you.”

“Oh, really? ‘Cause this just feels like an excuse to slut shame me. What? It’s not a problem with Colson ‘cause he's a guy?”

“I never even fucking said that, you just don’t want to take responsibility.”

“I already fucking did take responsibility, jackass! Maybe I wouldn’t have slept with him if you had the balls to tell me you liked me sooner.” You yell, throwing your arms into the air.

“Oh, are you sure? Are you sure you wouldn’t just blame your commitment issues so you could keep sleeping with him?”

“Stop blaming your fucking insecurities on me! I was trying to have a simple conversation with you about this and you’re acting like a fucking child!”

“Well I’m sorry if you hurt me and don’t want to see that. I’m fucking sorry if the fact that your actions having consequences hurts your feelings. I’m sorry that the excuse of ‘well, he told me not to.’ isn’t fucking good enough for me. This wasn’t about him, it’s about you. You didn’t fucking tell me. You didn’t respect me. You actively tried to stop me from finding out. I don’t care what he did.” He yells, putting on a high pitched voice to imitate you.

“Why the fuck not?! This is exactly what I mean, you keep acting like he’s innocent!” You shout back.

“I don’t expect Colson to tell me the truth, I’m not fucking in love with him!” Pete yelled, the room went silent for a moment before he continued, calmer this time “I expect this shit from everyone, okay? I watched my back with everyone, and I fought tooth and nail to earn your trust because I know you have trust issues, I know that’s why it took so long for us to get together,” He took in a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. “You’re just the only person I trusted not to hurt me.”

“Well that’s a really unrealistic pedestal to put me on, so.” You say, your own voice lowering.

Amy walked down the stairs, wrapping her robe around herself in an attempt to keep the warmth in. You hadn’t even realized how late it was, or how loud the two of you had been yelling at each other.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on down here?” She asks, her new york accent evident. Pete licked his lips, staring at you. You could see right past the anger in his eyes, all the way to the hurt.

“He keeps blaming everything on me.” You half yell

“Huh? Blaming what?” She asked, her voice low and full of sleep. It was clear you had woken her up.

“She slept with Colson.” Pete’s voice broke as he said it, jaw clenched. You knew his tongue was between his teeth and he was biting down on it to hold back tears, not wanting to give you the satisfaction. Amy’s eyes softened as she heard this, turning to look at you.

“Get out.” She said softly, but still making it clear there was no room for argument.

“What?” You asked, your heart crumbling.

“Get out of my house.” She added, her voice more stern this time. She pointed angrily at the door, and as you walked out you caught a glimpse of her pulling Pete into her arms. The height difference was awkward, he had to lean down to bury his face in her shoulder and yet it seemed so natural. You knew there were tears in his eyes as he accepted the loving embrace of his mother, his heart shattered once again.

The door shut behind you like so many times before, but this time felt different. Like it was the last. You wished you had known when you were crying in his arms that it would be the last time you’d ever be in his arms at all. You wished a lot of things, but it was late and the sky was pitch black, leaving the stars to wish on few.

The ferry from staten island wouldn’t leave til morning, so there was no making it back to your apartment. You had no choice but to stay at a hotel. You cursed when you realized you had left your phone in the house, nothing on you but the clothes on your back, the cold night air nipping at your cheeks.

You began walking, hoping to find a place to stay sooner than later. Pete had a few friends that lived nearby, but the option was dropped as quickly as it was picked up. You didn’t think they’d be much for helping you if they heard what happened.

A gag came up your throat as your foot landed in something cold and squishy, you looked down, lifting your foot to look at the bottom of it. It was hard to make out in the dark of night, but you didn’t need to, you knew what it was. You had just stepped in dog shit while barefoot, and you could only wipe your foot on the grass, destined to spend the night on a park bench.

And throughout all of this, you couldn’t help but feel that you deserved it.

#Pete davidson #Pete davidson angst #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson x reader

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

Season Of The Witch

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, honestly i think that’s it. Just soft boy Bucky.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing this one. Little bit of a witchy- halloween vibe for ya guys… Honestly I’m really in love with this idea, so who knows- if you like it I might write a part 2!

Huge Thank you to @cutie1365 for editing this mess! Couldnt have done it without her!

“Okay, okay. What colour am I thinking of now.” Peter squealed, plopping himself down on your bed, staring at you like a kid on christmas.

Being the Avengers personal psychic has its benefits, but this was certainly not one of them. You thought your party-trick of a superpower would have grown old on your friends, and yet it always seemed to draw a crowd of non-believers. You weren't the toughest or the strongest by any means, but you sure knew your way around a person's thoughts, which proved to be an advantage to the team. Mostly you were in charge of recon, but that didn't stop Natasha from dragging you to the gym every weekend and torturing you with super hero level workouts.

“How many more times are we going to do this, Peter?” You sighed, but soon realised he wasnt caving. “Blue. Just like last time it was orange and the time before that thirteen. Can we please stop.”

Peter scanned you over for a moment, before relaxing back on your headboard.

Fine, but only because Mr. Stark said he was ordering Chinese and it's probably here by now. His voice echoed through your mind.

“Actually, I heard Wanda say he’s getting pizza.” You corrected.

“How did you-?” He paused, eyes agape as your words registered. “That is seriously cool, you know that? I mean, I hang from the walls but that- that is cool! I can see why they coined you The Witch now,” Peter playfully shouted. “Can you do that with anyone, at any time?”

You smiled sheepishly, remembering the times your wandering mind had gotten you in some pretty uncomfortable situations. You tried your very best to stay out of your friends heads, but sometimes that was easier said than done. Especially when it came to the former Hydra assassin. His thoughts seemed to creep into your mind, seeping through the cracks unbidden. Sometimes his mind would wander aimlessly, but that wasn't always the case. You knew about Bucky’s dark past, however hearing it in his own cruel words was something else entirely. Though he would never utter the words allowed they were seared into your mind. You had every sense to avoid the man and yet his voice, like gravel and smoke, drew you in, intoxicated on his every word as it clouded around your subconscious.

“Unfortunately” You sighed, easing back into the mattress and unconsciously biting at the corner of your mouth. Your gift didnt make you very popular when you were younger. You were honestly surprised it was so welcomed here. Most people consider you an invasion of privacy... But Peter was different from the highschool kids you grew up with. Maybe it was due to the fact he was different too, but something about the way his mind wandered made you believe that radio-active spider or not, Peter would always be Peter.

“What does Bucky think about?”

That knocked you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head up and looked at Peter, who only seemed to have a curious look in his eyes.

He’s so broody and mysterious. Guy gives me the creeps.

“Bucky is a sweetheart deep down.” You faked a smile, concerned as to why you felt the need to defend him. From an outside perspective, it was possible to fear the former Winter Soldier. However, knowing what you did haunted your nerves.

“I’m sure very, very deep down.” Peter chuckled. “I’m going to go grab some pizza before Sam eats it all. Are you coming?”

You smiled softly, preparing yourself for the dinner with your friends. Though you enjoyed having a sort of family, dinners together would often grow overwhelming in your mind, voices colliding though your head, brewing into a storm in your thoughts.

“I’ll be down in a few.” With that, Peter stumbled out of your room and down the hallway leaving you with your thoughts. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the many different voices faintly echoing around you. You could only make out bits and pieces as they vibrated through the walls and all around you. At first, it was hard to identify whose voice belonged to who, but soon after you moved into the compound it became easy.

Natasha thought in poems. Her brain was always working on the next solution- the next verse. Her mind wandered in and out of trains of thought like a dancer, drifting back and forth with ease. It was always relaxing listening in.

Tony was constantly listening to his music wherever he went. You had an inkling it was because he knew how powerful you were. ‘Like built-in surveillance,’ he’d often say. Though, you’d never deflate his ego in letting him know you could still hear his thoughts clear as day.

But then there was Bucky. It took you a while to understand his thoughts. They always seemed erratic and chased- never one thought all at once, but it soon became clear why. Bucky was constantly correcting himself. When his mind began to tiptoe into the darkest corners, he’d change the conversation, ushering it back to what he thought was right. Listening to his internal debates became a favourite pastime of yours. He often reminisced about his time in the forties. You liked how easy it was, listening to him think. Though you had never said more than five words to him allowed, you were content with this little part of him. Pieces only you both knew. Like the beautiful woman he would lose himself daydreaming about. The way he described her made you feel flush all over. He never thought her name, and yet it stung all the more knowing his heart was stolen. His beautiful ‘ведьма’. Not that you stood a fighting chance. Not to mention the impending age gape you both shared. Often he would find you staring and a string of curses would follow as he realised he’d be caught. You never meant to intrude, but then again, that wasn't entirely true.

With a huff, you swung your legs off the bed letting your feet hit the cold wooden floors, but before you could even open the door, you heard him. His voice was so loud you almost didn't know if he was speaking aloud or not.

Just do it, you punk. Walk up there and ask her. What’s the worst that could happen?.... She could plunge a knife into your back- no…. She wouldn't do that and you know it. If you ask her, she might say yes… Honestly that might he worse than-

You swing the door open, startling Bucky back a few paces as your eyes might his. Instantly his face blooms with pink as his mind races- his thoughts an incoherent mess.

“Hi Bucky.” You spoke only above a whisper.

“Oh jesus! I didn't know you were right there.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck trying to steady his breathing.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, breaking eye contact and suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “I didn mean to scare you-”

“You don’t- I mean, you didn't scare me.” He chuckled, his mind suddenly blank. “It doesn't matter right now because I, uh… I was wondering if you're coming for dinner.”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, on my way now.” You smiled softly.

“Great,” Bucky grinned, running his hand through his cropped hair and stepping aside. “I can walk with you.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you swung the door shut and began walking side by side with Bucky in heavy silence.

“Know what’s for dinner?” Bucky finally spoke.

“Pizza. Your favourite.” You affirmed, meeting his curious eyes. His strides slowed until he was at a full stop.

“I never told you that.” He pried, looking at your in question.

You froze, suddenly aware of what you had just said. There was nothing more you wanted than to sink into the floor and let the earth swallow you whole.

“Uh,” You nervously laughed, “You must have at some point. Yeah, I remember now, it was-”

“How often do you listen?” he interrupted, making your mouth clamp shut.

You thought about lying, though it didn't seem right. You knew all his secrets and all he asked was this one. Surely you could grant him that even if it cost a punch to the ego.

“All the time,” You started, your eyes never leaving the floor. “I don’t mean to. At least that’s the way it started. I really try to put you guys all on ‘mute’ when we're together, but your voice always comes through. I don't know what it is, but I like the way you think.” You admitted, feeling heat rising from your chest.

“You like the way I think?” He pried, taking a few steps closer to you. You could feel the tension buzzing around the hallway, ricocheting off the walls and exploding all around you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so embarrassed. It's such an invasion of privacy. You must hate me. I promise I won't tell anyone about the things I hear. Especially her.”

“Her?” He chuckled, taking another step toward you leaving only a few tiles between the two of you.

“Ведьма.” You choked out. “You think about her all the time. She sounds beautiful, by the way. I’m sorry, that's overstepping… I just, I’m sorry. Really I’ll just go-”

Before you could turn on your heel and run for the hills, Bucky's hands were around your wrists, holding you still. His eyes were pleading as he opened he opened and shut his mouth trying to find the right words to say.

“For a witch, you sure aren’t very intuitive.” Bucky signed, your eyes finally landing on his. “My beautiful witch, don’t know by now?”

You blinked at him, your mouth suddenly dry and words caught in your throat. Before you could speak, his thoughts broke through the air, tumbling around you.

Are you listening, doll? His voice echoed around you sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded your head, watching as his eyes crinkled up as he a lopsided grin formed on his pink lips.

It’s you. It’s always you. I've tried to stop, trust me. I just can’t seem to shake it.

You almost didn't notice the smile that began to pull at the corners of your mouth as you took in his words. They drifted in the air around you, echoing through your mind as Bucky’s thumbs rubbed circles into your skin.

“Ask me.” You spoke up, a sudden confidence serging through your core. Bucky raised a brow, scanning you over until your words resonated with him.

“Right, of course.” He cleared his throat, letting go of your hands and intertwining his own nervously. “Would you ever consider letting me take you out. To dinner, maybe?”

You bit down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling as you listened to his internal monologue of nerves that followed his question.

“Took you long enough.” You chuckled, watching as his smile lit up the room around you. Before you could stop yourself you closed the distance between you, draping your arms around his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. Bucky froze, but almost as instantly melted into you, his hands finding their home on your hips as he pulled you in. You wanted nothing more than to melt into him but his racing thoughts swirled around you, causing a giggle to fall from your lips.

Holy Shit. Kiss her back, you moron. Oh god she smells so good. What is that? Cinnamon? Citrus? Shit, she's so close to me. Don't panic. Don't panic. Fuck she feels good. Just relax, and- Oh shit. Can you hear me?

You couldn't help but throw your head back, laughter bubbling out of your chest as his thoughts raced through his head.

“I can tell you're going to be a lot of fun, Barnes” You mumbled against his lips.

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A/n: Nervous Bucky is my favourite can you tell? I loved this one, show some love if you felt the same!

@cutie1365 @whateveriwant

@projectcampbell @kalesrebellion

@calwitch @hpandmcu177a

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes reader

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kunikuzxshi · 3 years

Note

Can I please request for LoV content though this time the reader isn’t anyone’s s/o per say, just like everyone’s mama in a sense, always being the one who care for them and give them love, big spooning, cuddle, help them with various stuff. And because they are ‘LoV mama’ they are quiet dominant and everyone listens to them and respect them. Can I get headcannons for LoV interactions with her? And if possible for another post a sequel of how they will react when they found out that she has a lover who basically babies her and she likes it too. How will they react? Will they treat her differently? Jealous? Thank you so much!!!!! 💕💕💕💕

Awwwww 🥺 just let me know if you want me to tag you whenever I do the other post ❤️ it got really laggy before I could add more so… :’)

Just some small stuff, I’ll do like one shots and the other thing in another post or two if you want me to tag you or somethin lol

Part 2

Kurogiri

Lemme tell you right now, he is absolutely relieved because now he’s got someone else to “babysit” the league

He finally feels comfortable enough to have a day just to himself

^ He’s just happy he doesn’t have to constantly worry about Dabi burning down their base, or Shigaraki turning Toga to dust

He’s kind of like a kid in a way

^ Like he’s looking for praise in a way, but not really

Encourage him when he’s doing a good job

Let him vent when a certain brat pisses him off

And PLEASE help him discipline said brat

^ He will literally beg you, just do it please

He definitely appreciates you the most out of everyone

He likes getting a pat on the back when he’s doing a good job, or even just having a drink with you when “handjob” is finally asleep I had to I’m sorry I love that nickname so much

You’ve got either really insulting nicknames or really sweet ones for everyone in the league, but you guys only use them when it’s just you two

You guys randomly get Magne pride stuff, like the transgender flag or those pins you find everywhere during pride month

^ Sometimes Toga too

^ And you if you’re part of it, but he goes without you if it’s for you, because then it wouldn’t be a surprise

He likes head pats but that’s all he’s comfortable with

Shigaraki

Ok, he’s definitely a bitch to you too

^ at first at least

In general, he didn’t really like people and his tolerance for everyone was pretty low for a long time

The only people he interacted with were the same few people, and they basically spoiled and groomed him, so it takes him the longest to warm up to you

He doesn’t like being told no, so expect him to act like a toddler when you tell him he can’t do something

He does kind of like having another decent parental figure even though in his head afo’s a good dad

He might invite you to go with him to GameStop or something like that

^ Or maybe just to grab a quick snack from a ramen shop or something along the lines of that

He’s somewhere between a moody teenager and a four year old, just remember that

Please don’t get mad at him, he feels bad after an hour or two

^ Kurogiri has to make him apologize for whatever he did though because he’s too stubborn to do it himself

He lets you pick out one of his good controllers and headsets so you can play with him in your own room, or with him, he doesn’t mind

Once he’s fully comfortable with you, he’s clingy as hell

Always asks for hugs or head scratches, most likely both

He tries his best not to snap at you like he does with everyone else, and he probably has the most patience with you

He doesn’t really cuddle with you since it’d be a little weird if you guys aren’t dating, but he does hug you from behind every once in a while

Likes to be close to you in general

He likes when you take care of his scars and wounds for him, or when you get him to stop scratching his neck

^ Cause it shows you care, and he doesn’t really think anyone really does except for Kurogiri and AFO

Probably the touchiest one

Expect to be giving him some form of attention every second, whether it’s talking to him or just holding his wrist

Probably the one that enforces your rules honestly (if you have any)

Basically he’s a simp, but like the platonic kind of simp

Dabi

Dabi’s a bit like Shigaraki

It does take him a bit to open up, but only about half the amount of time it takes Shigaraki to

He does feel bad when you get mad, and it takes him about the same amount of time to feel guilty

He definitely invites you to go places with him, but it’s usually a bar or a good spot to commit arson

He’s basically a moody teenager, that’s it, so he’s at least manageable

Sometimes he goes with you to get snacks or drinks (soft drinks basically), but if he does, expect to be the one paying

Might give you a cigarette every once in a while if you smoke, and he always offers to light it for you

He definitely likes to vent to you about his day, or how Shigaraki’s been bugging him more than usual

^ It’s mainly because you’re the only one that listens though mainly

^ He still appreciates it though, don’t get it wrong

One of his favorite pastimes is to walk around the city at night with you and maybe Kurogiri

He’s not very touchy in general, so don’t expect anything more than a pat on the back

Sometimes though, if you want a hug or something he’ll let you get one from him

He’s still not touchy at all, so don’t ask for very much

^ Lemme put it this way, expect more from pretty much everyone else except him

Spinner

He always runs to you about Dabi picking on him for his quirk when Kurogiri’s not around

Sometimes he asks you to play a game with him, but not very often

^ Even Shigaraki probably asks more than Spinner does

He’s pretty quiet with you most of the time, and he won’t usually talk to you unless you start a conversation

^ Basically he only talks to you when he needs to

He’s not exactly the kind of guy that’ll go out for food with you since his quirk makes him pretty easy to spot, but he does offer to help cook every once in a while

He likes to show you his collection of knockoff stain clothing

He has made efforts to try to get to know you more, but he’s a little shy

Get him Stain merch and you’ll automatically be his favorite out of everyone in the league

^ Shigaraki might kill you though, just a heads up

Don’t touch him unless you’re treating his wounds, he’s worse than Dabi is

Magne

She loves going out with you and Toga

^ Could be for food, or maybe clothes shopping, hell, even just a walk

^ She just likes spending time with you, but yes, it is preferred if Toga and Twice could come along

She’s gotta be the sweetest person out of the whole league

She’s probably called you her sibling a few times just so you know her opinion on you

You’ve got at least a few matching shirts and jackets with her and Toga

She probably offers to help you around the base more than anyone (except kurogiri)

You’re definitely in the top 3 favorites

She likes to do skincare routines with Toga, Twice, and you

Definitely paints her nails and asks you how it looks first

She’s totally onboard with you sitting in her lap, but it’s just for hugs, don’t get it mixed up

She’s probably one of the touchiest people out of the league

^ Not nearly as much as Shig, but she’s probably third

Toga

You’re a sibling too, 100%

She asks you to sharpen and clean her knives daily, but she always repays the favor by helping you cook or by cleaning 2-3 rooms

She’s given you one of her favorite knives to keep for your birthday, or just any special event of yours

She always asks you to put her hair up for her, and if your hair is long enough, she asks if she can do your hair

She’s really picky about anything she gets you, and she always pays attention to the smallest details in everything she gives you

She’s given you quite a lot of jewelry she stole from corpses, whether you wear it or not

^ You can sell it too, and she’s fine with it, just tell her thank you first though

She always wants to watch you cook and she’s even tried to make your favorite food once or twice with Kurogiri and Magne

She asks you to paint her nails for her, even if you’re not good at it, since one hand always turns out better than the other

Face masks and cleansers are a must, she prefers if you do more skincare stuff with her, but that’s the bare minimum

Definitely has a picture of you, Magne, her, and Twice as the wallpaper on her phone

She’s somewhat touchy, she’s all for hugs and maybe hand holding every once in a while

^ That’s it though

Twice

He likes to smoke with you (if you do)

^ If you don’t, he still likes to talk to you when he does

He’s really interested in your hobbies and what you like to do

He’s comfortable with taking off his mask fully when it’s just you two and no one else

He thinks your laugh is cute in the same way a puppy’s cute

He likes being cared for by you, and you’re always going to be in his top 3

His all-time favorite thing about you is just the simple fact that you accept him for who he is, flaws and all

He comes to you for head pats at least four times a day, and he likes holding your hand because it makes him feel safe and secure

He loves how gentle you are with him, and how you try your best to understand him

^ He does feel extremely bad when he involuntarily insults you

^ Tell him you know he didn’t mean it and that you still like him please

He loves cuddles, but only when he’s tired

^ It’s usually just him laying his head on your shoulder though

Again, having you around in general makes him feel safe

So after a long day of fighting heroes, he just wants to sit with you until he falls asleep

Compress

He basically the only other person besides Kurogiri that doesn’t have the mindset of a 15 year old or younger

It’s nice that he’s got someone other than Kurogiri to talk to now

He offers to help with chores the most

Likes to entertain you with magic tricks, and he always shows you his newest tricks first

^ Please tell him he did a good job and that it was convincing

He knows a good deal about you, like your favorite food and your favorite spot in the city

Sometimes he goes on walks with you when the tension after a mission dies down

He takes you out for food once or twice a week, and for a snack run every other week

^ He always gets a lot of stuff though, so it’s ok

He’s always the first to notice anything about you, like a new haircut or a new shirt

^ He’s always the first to compliment you on it too

On a scale of 1-10, he’s probably a 3 as far as being touchy goes

He appreciates praise and maybe pats on the back, but he doesn’t really care much about themselves

He doesn’t really actively seek your attention like Shigaraki does, but he doesn’t complain when he gets it

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #kurogiri #mr compress #league of villains #himiko toga #twice mha #jin bubaigawara #magne bnha #spinner bnha

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 36

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: KC belongs to @kc-and-co and David Willows belongs to @that-scouse-wizard (both in mention)

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell @thatravenpuffwitch @anthamariemayfair

I need an easy friend

I do, with an ear to lend

I do think you fit this shoe

I do, but you have a clue

~ Nirvana - About A Girl ~

When the driver of their bus pulled into a service station, Lizzie practically jumped off the bus before her emotions would get the better of her.

She managed to keep herself together until she had reached the bathrooms of the service station and vanished into one of the cubicles. The door had barely shut behind her when she couldn’t stop the tears from coming anymore.

All the strain and frustration of the last few weeks, all the times she had missed Orion’s laugh, his smile and touch were coming down on her all at once. The sobs were shaking her body and she hugged herself, leaning against the door in her back, not caring who might hear her.

Orion’s words were running through her mind on repeat, and each time it felt like a knife was being twisted in her heart.

His words had been so cold, so much disregard in his voice; Lizzie knew he was angry and pressured, but she didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Maybe whatever they’d had had ended, but it had been him who had decided to go. Both of them had made mistakes, not only she. So how was she to blame for everything?

Lizzie wiped the tears off her cheek, leaving dark trails of mascara on the back of her hand, but they were immediately replaced by new ones. They were streaming down her face, gathering at her chin and dropping to the ground.

She didn’t know what to do anymore to resolve the issue; she had tried every single thing she could think of but apparently, all she’d managed to do was make things worse.

There seemed to be no end to her tears,no matter how hard she was trying; Lizzie couldn’t say when she had stopped crying over her fight with Orion and had started crying for the sake of it. The constant tension had been eating away at her, and it felt good letting everything out for a change.

A sudden rap on the door of her cubicle made her jump.

“Hello? Everything okay in there?”

Lizzie recognised the voice immediately; it was Artemis calling to her from the other side of the door.

Crying had felt good, but now Lizzie felt stupid for not thinking ahead. Of course someone from their crew would have to come in here sooner rather than later and hear her sobbing her heart out; just what she needed right now.

Straightening up, Lizzie wiped her face one last time. Bracing her shoulders, she stepped away from the door and unlocked it.

It was obvious Artemis was surprised to see her.

“Oh,” she said, “it’s you.”

“Sorry for the disappointment,” Lizzie mumbled and pushed past her on her way to the sinks.

She didn’t even need a mirror to know she was looking like a mess. She held her hands under the cold water coming from the tap, first splashing a little of it into her face, then rubbing some more onto her neck; the cold made her shiver, but also brought her back to her senses.

Lizzie must have cut quite the pathetic figure, because after a moment’s hesitation, Artemis followed her.

“Are you okay?” she asked apprehensively.

Lizzie took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look like it.”

Lizzie shot her a glance. “What do you even care? It’s not as if you like me.”

Artemis pressed her lips together and looked away. She seemed to be thinking about leaving, but instead she pulled the bag she was carrying to the front, rummaging around in it for a second, before producing a worn looking tube of mascara, which she held out to Lizzie.

“I’m not a total dickhead, you know,” she said quietly, “I’m not really used to people wanting to be my friend.”

“Shame though,” Lizzie said, the smallest of smiles on her lips as she took the mascara from Artemis.

“And besides,” Artemis continued with a raised eyebrow, indicating Lizzie’s tearstained reflection in the mirror, “Andre would never forgive me if I let one of his precious rockstars walk out of here looking like shit.”

Despite herself, Lizzie had to giggle at that. “He’d throw a proper fit.”

“That he would.”

As surprising as it was, quipping with Artemis was a very welcome change to her dark mood. Lizzie had wiped away the traces of makeup on her face and started re-applying it with the mascara Artemis had given her; it wasn’t her favourite brand by a long shot, but it certainly did a good enough job to make her feel better.

She opened her ponytail, combing her hair out with her fingers before tying it back up again. Giving herself a critical look in the mirror, Lizzie deemed herself presentable enough; but the thought of getting back to their tour bus, where Orion would be as well, made her hesitate. The thought of him made the tiny smile on her face disappear again.

“Men are shit, aren’t they,” Artemis said quietly.

“You have no idea,” Lizzie sighed from the bottom of her heart. Much to her horror, she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again.

“You don’t happen to know where Charlie is,” she sniffed, trying to keep her composure. She needed to talk to someone about this or she would explode.

Charlie wasn’t exactly her first choice in this particular matter, but Skye wasn’t known for giving good advice; there was still KC, but she was close with Orion, and Lizzie didn’t want to put her into a conflict of interest.

“We were having lunch outside, he was trying to call his girlfriend when I left,” Artemis said slowly.

“Never mind then. Go back to your lunch, I’ll be fine.”

Despite her best efforts, Lizzie felt the first tear rolling down her cheek again. Whatever had become of her? She was sick of crying already but found she couldn’t stop.

After Artemis had left, it took Lizzie several very deep breaths and another splash of cold water to calm herself down again.

Lizzie wondered what on Earth Artemis must think of her, but realised she actually didn’t care anymore. Artemis was in great company with the people not wanting anything to do with her these days.

When she finally felt composed enough to step out of the bathroom again, she found Charlie waiting for her, leaning on the wall opposite the door. He needed only one look at her face to know what was up; without speaking a word, he opened his arms and with a few quick steps Lizzie walked up to him and let him draw her into a hug.

“Whatever are you doing, little rockstar?” he sighed, and rested his chin on top of her head, when Lizzie started crying again.

“It’s not fair,” she sniffed.

Her face was pressed against his shirt and her voice came out muffled, so she turned her head sideways.

“Everyone’s acting as if all that’s happened is my fault when it’s not. I just want things to go back to how it was, is that too much to ask?”

“You truly want Everett to come back?” Charlie said flatly.

Lizzie knew he was joking to cheer her up, but she didn’t find him particularly funny.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, finally letting go of him. “Jason Everett can go jump in a lake for all I care. I just want the fighting to end. Touring used to be the best thing ever, but right now I can’t wait for it to be over.”

“All of us can agree on that, I think,” Charlie admitted.

He held her at arm's length with a questioning look. “Is that all there is to it?”

Charlie knew there was something she wasn’t telling him. Lizzie’s eyes dropped to the ground and she shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“He doesn’t even look at me anymore,” she said so quietly Charlie had to lean in slightly. “I don’t know what else to do to make him see I’m sorry.”

“I had a feeling this was about Orion,” Charlie sighed.

“Why won’t he listen to me? I apologised so many times by now, but it never seems to be enough for him,” Lizzie said. “If anything, things are even worse now.”

“See, that’s the thing with us blokes,” Charlie said, “the more you push, the more we draw back.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose. “But that’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” Charlie shrugged, “but it is what it is. You jumping around him like that doesn’t help either.”

His voice softened when he saw how crestfallen Lizzie was. “I know you mean well, but you can’t force him if he doesn’t want to talk to you. You know Orion better than I do, but in this case, trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

Lizzie regarded him sceptically. “What would you do then?”

“He’s obviously trying to get some space, sort himself out. Ethan pestering him about new stuff probably doesn’t help either. So just stop being your tenacious little self and leave him alone for a while, how about that?”

Lizzie had already opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Maybe Charlie had a point; it wasn’t like she had any cards up her sleeve left anyway.

“Why are men so complicated?” she sighed. “All I want to do is talk things out and be done with it. Is that too much to ask?”

“Talking things out with women mostly doesn’t end that well for us,” Charlie said sardonically, earning him a nudge into the ribs.

“Look at you being funny,” Lizzie rolled her eyes at him. “I just hope it’s going to work. I don’t want him to be so angry all the time; that’s not the Orion I know.”

Charlie made a noncommittal sound. “You sure that’s all you want?”

“Of course,” Lizzie said and frowned. “I want us to be friends again, like we’re supposed to be. I am worried about him,” she stressed when Charlie didn’t seem convinced, “nothing more, nothing less.”

“Whatever you say, cupcake,” Charlie shrugged. “Do you know what I think? I think we’ve all had enough moping around for now. There’s a green spot next to the service station, so how about we do a little rugby match with the others, for old time’s sake? We could all make use of letting some energy out.”

“I’m not playing rugby against you, not ever again,” Lizzie snorted. The last time had earned her bruised ribs and a suspected concussion. “But make it football and I’m in. Shotgun on David, though.”

“Fine, I’m taking Erika then,” Charlie grinned.

A smile was spreading on Lizzie’s face as well. It felt weird after crying her eyes out, but in a good way. She was grateful for having someone like Charlie in her life; ever since her actual brother had decided to go and be a Hollywood screenwriter in L.A., Charlie had been the best replacement brother Lizzie ever could have wished for.

On a whim, she stood on her tiptoes and flung her arms around his neck. She could feel his laughter rumbling inside his chest as he hugged her back. “What’s that for, now?”

Lizzie smiled against his neck. “Nothing. Just for being you.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #orion amari #lizzie jameson #artemis hexley #rockstar au #when stars ignite #besties collaborate

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nocturnaldivinationsfallingstars · 3 years

Text

A Stray Bullet Part 5

Fandom: Gotham Characters: Victor Zsasz, female!reader, James Gordon. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of someone dying in a car accident. Summary: The reader is James Gordon’s sister and works for the GCPD and is dating Victor Zsasz. The reader has kept it a secret from her brother, until one day when she takes a bullet that was meant for him. Victor then shows up at James’ place to see the reader. Word count: 3689 A/N: I had to re-work the ending to this part as I added new parts to it.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other a couple of times to relieve the pain you were starting to feel from having been standing for far longer than your body wanted you to be, your head hung low with your eyes cast to the dark wooden floor. You were staring at a spot where a shard of glass had slipped between the grooves of two bits of wood, finding it interesting all of a sudden. Balling your hands into fists by your side and then relaxed them, wiggling the stiffness from your fingers to expel the tension. You thought about all the ways you could possibly answer his persistent questioning on the subject. You could always tell him the unbridled truth about your relationship with Victor, of course, you’d omit more than a few private details about the matter. But realistically, what good would telling him the complete truth really do? Apart from causing an explosive argument to break out between the two of you, and even then he’d insert himself more forcibly into your personal affairs.

James hadn't always been that way, he used to give you some semblance of privacy when growing up. In fact, he had only been this way since your father had been killed in the car accident with a drunk driver a good few years ago now. Inserting himself into your life whenever something dangerous came along, becoming overprotective and doing whatever he could to make sure you're safe. When he became a detective at the GCPD it only seemed to amplify his need to keep you safe, and while it was sweet knowing that your brother is always going to be there, you felt as if it was a bit too much.

And well, Victor Zsasz just so happened to be 'something dangerous'. James' reaction to you dating the famed hitman that quite literally shot you would set off a rather volatile reaction. There was no way for you to predict how he would act. Not to mention he had a temper that needed to be kept in check, which he was doing so well with.

This meant James needed to know all about it, right? So he doesn't lose his temper? He should know, he's your brother after all and not to mention you usually told him everything. The good and the bad, well to an extent. This was different, more personal and gave way to more chances for James to lash out at you or Victor or both. It wasn't as if you could keep putting it off, since he'd find out about it sooner or later. Later would be a huge mess, however, telling him sooner could be just as bad. Perhaps you could settle on telling him half-truths? It wouldn't make him angry if you let some details slip while keeping the key ones close to your chest.

The most difficult part was trying to mentally convince yourself to do it. To tell him the truth, no matter how angry he is going to be about you keeping it a secret. Or at the very least to give him something small to go off of, anything at all to keep him from questioning you further. The choice was hard to make, but it needed to be made, and you were the only one who could make it.

With a firm nod of your head at your decision to tell him half-truths, your tongue shot out between your lips as you tilted your head to the side and finally managed to tear your gaze away from the glass shard between the floorboards and over to the couch where James currently resided. His arms crossed over his chest still, tapping away at his upper arms with his fingers impatiently, waiting for you to answer. You could tell he wanted to ask again and if you didn't give an answer he was going to be displeased with you.

"Okay," you breathed out to calm yourself, flexing your hands once more. "Grace was right, I am dating someone." You begrudgingly admitted in the hopes that the thick and heavy tension that fell around you and James like a thick blanket of smoke within the last couple of minutes would clear, and give way to something that would make breathing feel less like a chore than it seemed to feel like in this very moment.

Finally, admitting your secret to your brother seemed to make little to no difference, if anything it felt as if the tension had got far worse between you and James. It felt it coiled around your chest like a boa constrictor choking out its prey, making it exceptionally hard for you to breathe. You felt the full weight of your anticipation towards his reaction resting heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like it was getting harder to breathe.

You were hoping to blame the sudden feeling of weakness that began to wash over you on the fact that you've been shot twice and not on the fact that you've started to really worry. Your fingers curled and uncurled multiple times at your side, then pressed the palms of your hands against your thighs and stared at him. Waiting, watching for any hint of surprise, annoyance, anger, just anything to show you what he’s feeling.

"You're dating someone?" he asked, his gruff voice gaining your attention before you could allow your mind to wander. There were no underlying negative emotions as he spoke to you, still the tension remained and was in no way alleviated. In fact, it felt far more stifling now than moments ago when you admitted your secret aloud.

"Yes, I am." you answered in a low voice that's barely above a whisper. A single nod was all you could manage, taking a slow and small step backwards so that the back of your legs hit the soft cushions of the couch behind you. You automatically sat down as soon as you felt them, your hands going to your hap where you intertwined your fingers and rubbed your left thumb with the pad of your right nervously.

You averted your gaze, there was no way you could bring yourself to look at him. Not only that, but you could sense the disappointment dripping in his voice and radiating off of him, he tried his best to hide it, but you could still sense it. "Who is it?" he demanded, his voice raising even though he tried to fight the anger that boiled in his veins. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see his knuckles starting to turn pale from how hard he's gripping at the fabric of his jacket.

Oh, how you regretted the words that came from your mouth.

A grim look darkened the features of your brother, who is very obviously irked about all the secrecy already. "Who is it?" The sound of his right foot tapping against the floor sent a shiver of worry down your spine as soon as you heard it. Somehow you missed the rapid movement of his leg bouncing up and down anxiously until now, and for a brief moment you allowed yourself to wonder about how you missed such a simple yet very noticeable action. However, that thought was soon dragged away from you when your brother grunted, thoughtful about his next words. "How long have you two been dating?" You could tell his anger was burning just beneath the surface of his skin, itching to get out, wanting to be known, but he had control over it. For now.

"A few months now," you had hoped that you'd never get to witness his full anger in your lifetime. However, you were clearly heading southbound to face it head on and be on the receiving end of it, none of which gave you much comfort right now. "I also can't tell you his name." You felt like you had been put under a microscope, almost as if all of your expressions, movements, etc, were being analysed for any hints of a lie.

James sat next to you quietly and rubbed his wrist with his hand a couple of times before yet another grunt escaped from his throat, he pushed his jacket aside with his hands and then placed them on his hips. He pushed himself up from his place on the couch, "A few months?" He moved to stand in front of you, pausing a mere couple of seconds with his back facing you before he turned sharply with a burning gaze that made your skin crawl as the invisible flames licked at your flesh violently.

"Well, actually, if you want me to be more accurate, it is more like eight months." You corrected sheepishly, ducking your head and raising your shoulders to your ears, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

"Eight? Eight fucking months?" He said slowly to get his mind around the news. You nodded your head in response and sucked your lower lip between your front teeth. You didn't know if you should say something or not, so you settled for keeping your mouth shut. "Jesus - fucking - Christ, you've not only been dating someone for eight whole months without even so much as a word about it to me. But you can't even tell me his damn name." James ran his hands through his short brown hair, "or is it because you won't tell me? Hmm? Can't or won't tell me?" He said in an accusatory tone and extended his arm out in front of himself, pointing a large index finger at you. "Because I have got to admit; it doesn't feel like you're being entirely honest with me [Y/N]." With a puff of air, you pressed your lips together into a thin line. Finally, managing to gather the courage to look him in the eyes. You still can't bring yourself to tell him who you're dating, but at least you told him you're dating someone.

You reached up and slapped his hand from your face, "I won't tell you." You growled out through gritted teeth.

“Okay, fine,” he huffed out angrily and threw his hands in the air. “Keep being stubborn.

Rolling your eyes, you shifted your body to stretch out along the couch now that it was free. Your side and shoulder throbbed, the phantom pain of the bullets tearing through you made you shiver involuntarily, "Jim, I know you want to know who it is, but I do need some privacy in my life you know." You shot back, suddenly feeling less scared about his underlying anger issues.

"Okay, I get that. But what if they're dangerous? What then?"

You stared up at him, mulling the question over and hummed, "he could very well be dangerous." He shook his head in disbelief to your answer, you answered so calmly, like it was a normal day-to-day thing to talk about. You continued to stare up at him, jutting your lower lip out into a pout, and nodded your head in acknowledgement to his question. It wasn't like you were fully admitting that Victor was dangerous, however you received a dark look from your brother which made you choke back a small laugh of amusement at his attitude towards the whole thing.

“Can you stop joking around for one damn minute?!” James snapped at you out of frustration for the second time that day. “This is a serious discussion.

There was no way you would joke about something like that when you told him that your boyfriend could be dangerous. After all, you knew very well that he was, but you found it exciting and hot. Not that you would admit that very personal fact to your brother, or Grace for that matter. You didn't want to deal with them judging you. "I wasn't joking when I said that, Jim. I was simply saying that knowing could be dangerous." You shrugged and paused, tilting your head to the side as the gears in your mind started to turn as you tried to think of something that would reassure your only surviving family. This time, however, your voice came out much quieter than before. "I can handle myself. Nothing bad will happen to me while I am with him.”

"Right," he murmured unconvincingly, his dark eyes drawn to the bloodied bandages wrapped around your shoulder and side, just peeking out from under the black fabric of your clean shirt. "And that's why you're here," he gestured your way, "because you can take care of yourself. Okay, yeah. Sure." It was clear that the way you held yourself, like a bird nursing a broken wing, did very little to convince him that you could take care of yourself. He didn't even need to say that you could barely walk and take care of yourself right now aloud, his unspoken point hung in the air between the two of you like an axe pendulum swinging violently ready to hit someone.

James waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the conversation and blew a heavy breath of air from his lungs. "Just get some rest, we will talk about this in the morning. And you better give me answers."

"That was my plan," you yawned out. You felt exhaustion once again wrap its arms around you tightly. A small noise of satisfaction escaped your lips as you stretched your legs out in front of yourself, relieving the stiffness you felt in your joins. "You're not dad, Jim," keeping your tired dull eyes on your brother who turned his back on you and rolled his shoulders as he went to leave the living room with a quiet grumble about something you couldn't quite catch.

He had only just stepped foot out of the large living room when the loud generic ringtone of your phone rang out through the room, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "Who the hell is that?" James spun back around and stood in the alcove, his eyes scanning the room quickly for the locations of the sound. He most likely thought that he had dropped his phone in all the commotion from earlier, or perhaps Barbara had left hers here. You were hoping he didn't think it was yours and that he'd leave it and go straight to his room.

Your eyes darted towards your neatly folded trousers resting atop your boots and then back to your brother who followed your gaze with his eyes the next time you looked back over to where your phone lay. "[Y/N], who is that?" He repeated the question, taking a large step back into the room.

"That's Grace calling." you squeaked out. Of course, you were lying, Grace rarely called outside work hours. That was, unless it had to do with something important, like your case. You knew exactly who was calling you, and your brother apparently picked up on the lie as soon as it tumbled past your lips. He's always been good at picking up on your likes, and it was infuriating to say the least. The rise of your voice did nothing to make the lie any more believable to your brother’s ears.

"Is it him calling?" The question itself didn't give off the vibe of something you should be answering; it may as well be a rhetorical question since he already knows the answer. He was smart enough that he didn't need you telling him something he already knew. Instead, you chose to shake your head quickly, shooting up into a sitting where you instantly leaned forwards as if you're getting ready to race him to where your phone continued ringing kept coming from. Much like you and James would do while growing up and one of you wanted to use the landline before the other. His eyes narrowed at you as he watched the sudden shift in your body language.

You sat rigid on the edge of the couch cushion. Of course, it had to be Victor calling you, and now James knew that it's someone important to you. He rapidly closed the distance between himself and the location of your phone. Just as he swept your trousers up in his hands and started to search them, you lunged forward, and he turned his back on you, making you collide with his back. He pulled the phone out of the front pocket, but as soon as he did it stopped making a noise. James's brows raised as he looked down at the small square that lit up for the longest moment before it dimmed and went black.

"For the love of god, Jim! Can I please have my phone back?!" You sprang away from him and teetered back a couple of meters. You hoped to hell he would pass the phone back to you before Victor called again, which he would do since you didn't answer the first time around, and he must be worried about you after what happened at the GCPD. "Please?!" You clasped your hands together in front of yourself in a pleading gesture as he turned to you, phone in hand.

“It is him, right?” James asked again, at this point you were getting tired of the repetitive questions. He pressed you for an answer because deep down he knew he was right.

"Yes. It is him." You answered curtly through gritted teeth. Your fingertips and nails pressed into the skin of your knuckles so hard it was beginning to hurt and put strain on your fingers.

A playful smirk made its way onto James's lips as his eyes darted down to the small screen on the front of your phone, the screen still black since last time. "Does he call you every night?" He hooked the corner of his thumb under the lip of the phone and flipped it open with ease to reveal the screen, which cast a white and blue hue of light over his face. His thumb hovered over the buttons that are far too small for his giant man thumbs, returning his curiosity filled eyes back to you.

"No." An obvious lie. “He doesn’t call me every night.” Another blatant lie.

Humming thoughtfully, he pressed the dark grey button in the middle of a small cluster of buttons to bring up the other options on your phone. His eyes darting back and forth between you and your phone as he pressed the smaller arrow keys surrounding the grey button until he landed upon the call log. "Jim!" You snapped at him, tearing your hands apart to reach out and snatch your phone from his grasp, but he pulled his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"I am not doing anything," he teased, the smirk on his face only growing wider with the way you're acting, like it amuses him. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, stamping your foot on the floor like a child being told they couldn't have any more candy before going to bed.

"Relax, I am just playing with you." He sighed out and was about to press one of the buttons when the small black phone in his hand buzzed to life, the screen lighting up and garnering his attention again. The words 'V calling...' displayed on the screen. "Hello?" James shot you a questioning look as he pressed the green button alight on the keypad without hesitation, picking up in mere seconds of the melody starting up. "Hello?" He asked again, pulling the phone away from his ear and looking at the small object in confusion.

Reaching out again, you took advantage of him being distracted and took your phone away from him. "Stop being a fucking jerk, Jim!" yelling angrily at him as you slammed the phone closed to end the call. You could only imagine the look on Victor’s face when your brother answered instead of you. James held his hands up, his brows furrowing.

"Your friend or boyfriend didn't even answer." He told you, lowering his hands as you stood there glaring at him. "And who is V?" You rolled your eyes, curling your fingers around the casing of your phone, holding it to your protectively.

"He didn't answer because you answered my phone and not me." You said defensively, "and it’s honestly none of your damn business who 'V' is! You need to stop acting like dad and more like my fucking brother. Not only that, but you need to let me have my own damn life!" That came out sounding a lot harsher than you intended it to, so you slapped your free hand over your mouth in a failed attempt to keep the words in. Obviously it was too late, and the damage was already done. You stared at him with wide, worry-filled eyes.

James nodded and took a step back to give you some space, an apologetic look on his face. "I am just concerned about you. And I am trying to keep the only family I have left safe and alive." With that he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room with your hand over your mouth staring after him. You only dropped your hand from your mouth when you heard the click of the light switch and the light went out throughout the apartment. "Just get some sleep," he called back to you before slamming the door to his room shut.

Shuffling backwards while being as careful as you could be as to not step on the remnants of glass scattered across the floor, you sat back down on the soft couch cushions and leaned back. Your eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness, you could almost make out a few shapes here and there, a couple of shadows as well.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered out after him. You pulled the scratchy grey blanket from the back of the couch and over your shoulder, covering your lap with it. You felt bad for what you said to him, you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it.

Tag list; @sunlitwritings, @nheirei, @the-ramblings, @milly-louise

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extasiswings · 3 years

Text

Hopping on this train of writing to cope with promo image-induced feelings. No thoughts, just vibes. Also on ao3.

The air inside the warehouse is thick with smoke and blisteringly hot. A snapping sound splits through the crackle of flame and Eddie is abruptly yanked off balance as Buck grabs his arm and pulls hard just as a beam from above comes crashing down. It doesn’t miss him completely—catches the side of his helmet and knocks it off, making his ears ring with the impact.

He sees Buck’s mouth moving and shakes his head.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Buck repeats, nearly shouting to be heard over the din of the fire.

A light fixture groans above them before dropping down as well and it’s Eddie’s turn to push Buck out of the way, even if it means a bit of flying glass catches him in the face.

“We need to get out of here,” he shouts, and it quickly turns into a coughing fit as he chokes on smoke, his throat and lungs burning.

Buck nods. “Go! I’m right behind!”

Eddie turns and manages to work out a path to the closest exit with a single-minded focus. His head is aching and he’s dizzy, can feel blood dripping down his cheek as well, and when he stumbles out into somewhat fresher air he nearly collapses into Bobby before he’s passed off to the paramedics.

Hen had been one of the first ones in and out and has since stripped off her turnout coat and is helping the other medics. Eddie doesn’t argue when she checks his throat and pupil responses before pressing an oxygen mask into his hand.

“Where’s Buck?” Hen asks as she swipes an alcohol pad over the cut on his cheek and secures it with two butterfly strips.

Eddie lowers the mask and coughs. “He was right—“

Behind me.

The words fade on his tongue as he scans the area only to come up empty. And then his eyes light on the door he’d come out of, nothing clear beyond the frame but black smoke and the red and orange glare of flickering flames.

His world tips on its axis. His vision swims. And the feeling—

It reminds him a little of the tsunami, when he’d noticed Christopher’s glasses around Buck’s neck and had felt himself fracturing at such a rapid pace that even now he’s sure he wouldn’t have remained standing if he hadn’t caught sight of his son over Buck’s shoulder. He can feel the same sort of cracks spidering up the foundation of his walls—the ones that he throws up when he needs to be Eddie Diaz, firefighter, medic, soldier, competent professional, any version of himself that has to play at having his life together—and he scrambles internally to shut down the panic, to plaster over the cracks before they can spread too far, because if he lets himself think—

“I need to talk to Bobby,” he says, trying to push himself up to standing. Hen shoves him back down with hands firmly on his shoulders.

“You need to sit and keep breathing into that mask,” she says, her voice sharp with authority before it gentles. “I’ll get him, but only if you stay here.”

Eddie’s jaw tics, but he lifts the mask back up to his face and takes a few pointed breaths while she watches. Finally, she nods.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises.

There’s an itch between his shoulder blades that desperately wants an outlet. Something to do, something to control so he doesn’t feel so much like he’s on the edge of a cliff. So that he can work on a solution instead of his mind unhelpfully focusing on Buck’s still in there. He’s not an idiot, he knows he’s in no shape to go back in himself, but he needs something.

“We were in the southwest quadrant,” Eddie reports when Hen returns with Bobby, keeping his words short and clipped. “It wasn’t overrun but there were a lot of things falling from the upper levels. He said he was coming right after me, but he could have gotten stuck.”

This is easier. Staying mechanical. Sticking to facts. There’s no room for getting overly emotional, no allowance for breaking down. He has a commanding officer in front of him who needs information, and that is something Eddie can handle.

“We tried him on the radio but there was no answer,” Bobby says.

“He may have dropped it.” When he pulled me to safety. Eddie shuts that thought down.

“There are windows on that side,” he adds. “If the exits are blocked—“

“We’ll look at all possible options,” Bobby replies. His face is drawn and tired, face streaked with sweat and soot.

For some reason it’s the flicker of doubt Eddie catches in his eyes that makes him say—

“He wasn’t being reckless. I know—we all know he can be sometimes, but he wasn’t. If he’s not out, it’s because he needs help, not because he’s trying to be a hero.”

Bobby looks at Eddie for a moment, something passing across his eyes like recognition before it fades and he’s left looking more tired than before.

“We’ll look at all the options,” he repeats finally. He doesn’t make promises. Eddie’s not sure whether or not he appreciates that.

It takes another several minutes for anything to happen, and Eddie’s shoulders get tighter, his mood blacker. His head aches and he snaps at another paramedic, some clearly new young kid, when he notices him dressing a burn improperly.

It doesn’t make him feel better.

Finally though, finally, after a heart-stopping moment when the warehouse windows blow out on the side where they’d last been, Eddie hears shouts. And a figure comes stumbling around from the back of the building, knees giving out just in time for someone to catch him.

“What happened to I’m right behind?” Eddie asks roughly when Buck is helped over, looking worse for wear but alive.

Buck coughs and closes his eyes. “Part of the catwalk came down,” he says. “Blocked me in. Couldn’t see you. Couldn’t see anything hardly through all the...everything.”

“I didn’t know.”

Buck shakes his head and dutifully brings his own oxygen mask to his face when one is pressed into his hand.

“Wouldn’t have wanted you to stay even if you had,” he replies. “At least I had all my gear.”

Eddie wants to keep talking, keep asking questions, keep reminding himself that Buck is sitting next to him and going to be fine, but that irrational impulse wars with the rational thought that Buck needs oxygen not an interrogation. So he drops it. And they both withdraw into their own heads.

Eddie watches though. As Buck flickers between present and vacant, numb. The haunted, hunted look that passes over his face every so often a clear indication that whatever ghosts are whispering in his mind, they’re saying nothing good. When the shift ends and they’re cleaned up, Buck still looks half-dead, so Eddie snatches his keys.

“I’m taking you home,” he says, tone booking no argument. “I don’t want you driving like this.”

Buck sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay.”

The drive is silent, but there’s a tension in the air, the weight of things unspoken. Eddie’s not entirely sure what exactly would roll off his own tongue if he opened his mouth, his head a mess, but when he parks his truck in front of Buck’s apartment, Buck finally speaks.

“You know what I was thinking while I stuck in that building? Besides that I was going to die.” He swallows hard. “That if it had to be someone it was good it was me.”

Eddie’s heart stops, his stomach rebelling violently at sheer wrongness of the thought.

“That’s not true.”

Buck nods and lets out a small, bitter laugh.

“See, I do know that actually,” he admits. “It’s one of the things I’ve been working on in therapy. Except then my parents rolled into town and it was like none of that work mattered, I was right back to square one assuming I’m not wanted, that no one would miss me—and I hate, I hate that they have that kind of power, that they can make me feel so fucking worthless.”

“You’re not though.” Eddie reaches over before he can stop himself, his hand curling around the side of Buck’s neck, thumb settling over his pulse to feel that steady thrum of alive alive alive. “God, when I thought—you’re worth everything. You have to know—“

You have to know how much you mean to me. You have to know how much I love you. You have to know I can’t lose you.

You have to know.

Buck makes a small sound of disbelief, his gaze turning searching as Eddie bites his tongue to keep from saying too much he can’t take back. He feels somehow even more precariously positioned on the edge of a cliff than he had in the field, but that cliff was positioned above an ocean of grief. He doesn’t know what’s at the bottom of this one should he fall.

Somehow that’s almost more terrifying.

Eddie sways forward unconsciously and Buck presses his forehead to his. Neither of them are breathing steadily. And they stay like that for a long moment until Buck shivers and pulls back.

“I want to kiss you,” he says quietly, and Eddie can’t quite help the frisson of want that sparks through him, the whisper of yes, please, do it then that threads through his mind.

“But,” Buck continues, his tongue sweeping out to wet his lips as Eddie watches. “But it’s been a long and really fucking difficult day and I’m not—I don’t want to fuck this up before it even starts. If—if there’s anything to start at all, I don’t want to assume—“

“There is,” Eddie assures. I love you. I’m in love with you.

That gets him the faintest smile as Buck reaches up to squeeze his hand.

“Thanks for the ride home.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

When Eddie gets home, he pauses long enough to check on Christopher before falling into bed. And only then does he think back over the day and finally, finally let himself shatter.

#chapel writes #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #buddie

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