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alwaysmicado · 5 months

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No broken hearts

8.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 6

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, public sex, fingering, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, Joel being a menace, pet names, degradation/praise, pregnancy (not reader), heavy drinking, reader hurts her hand, blood, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: After Joel fucks you against a gas station wall, you run into an old friend. A bottle of wine and a smashed mirror later, you make a late-night call from your bathroom floor. A/N: I'm so excited about this part!! There's so much going on in this one: kinky sex, wine, reader confronting her past, Tommy, and some good old angst (I had to, okay?). Not to worry though, reader laughs through the tears...kind of. Enjoy and let me know me what you think! 🖤

more public sex ・Laura ・last part・ masterlist ・ AO3

It’s Saturday, the heat’s cranked up to ‘inferno’ and you’re so prepared to just kick back and have a relaxed, blissfully lazy night in.

Your day so far has unfolded in a symphony of self-indulgence: finally tackling that book that’s been giving you the side-eye for a year, getting green with some new kitchen herbs, and breaking a sweat with yoga in front of the TV. Your soul feels rejuvenated already.

The only thing missing now is the perfect dinner to munch on while you sink into your sofa, get comfy, and dive into a Netflix marathon. You already have all the ingredients for your favorite pasta dish at home, you just need to get the essential partners in crime: a nice red—or three—and some snacks. Lucky for you, there’s a gas station a few minutes down the block from your place and the weather’s all sunny.

So, you throw on a comfy shirt, some shorts, your trusty worn-out sneakers, grab your bag, and head out.

Stepping outside, you’re met with a wave of heat that wraps around you like a snug, invisible blanket. The air feels thick and sticky, a relentless sun beating down with an intensity that turns the pavement into a makeshift oven. It’s the kind of hot that makes you think of ice-cold drinks and the cool water in the gym pool.

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips as your mind wanders to the last time you had the ingenious idea to cool off in there, but just ended up hotter and more sweaty.

The entrance bell jingles lightly as you push open the gas station door, a subtle melody signaling your arrival to the air-conditioned oasis, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat outside. Fluorescent lights hum above, casting a cool, artificial glow on the neatly arranged shelves. You catch the clerk’s eye, a charismatic smile on his face as he takes you in. His gaze, appreciative and lingering, meets yours with a playful spark.

You offer a polite smile in acknowledgment as you make a beeline for the wine section. The cool chill of the fridge greets you, and after a contemplative moment, you choose a robust red with an intriguing label. You always choose your wine depending on the aesthetic of the label. Bonus points if it contains an animal.

With the wine securely in hand, you turn your attention to the snack aisle, your eyes scanning the colorful array of options. The shelves are stacked with a tempting variety of chips, candies, and treats. You settle on a mix of savory and sweet delights after evaluating your options carefully. If there’s one thing you take seriously, it’s your snacks.

Wine? Check. Snacks? Check. More wine for good measure? Check. Approaching the counter, you’re met with a friendly grin from the clerk, a handsome face with a name tag that reads “Chris”.

“You find everything alright?” he asks, his tone dipped in a hint of flirtation.

“Yeah, I think I got everything I need,” you say, putting everything on the counter for him to scan.

“Good choices. Looks like you’re in for a great night.”

You chuckle, handing over the cash and putting everything in your bag. “You gotta treat yourself sometimes, you know?”

Chris hands you your change, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. “Well, if you ever need someone to share that wine with, you know where to find me.”

You offer a nonchalant smile, shrugging off his subtle advance. If you weren’t set on being alone tonight, you’d entertain the idea, but alas, you stay the course. And yes, that’s the only reason. You’re not still thinking about the polaroid or Joel’s words — If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you — and why would you? It doesn’t mean anything.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good one!”

Exiting the gas station, the door closes behind you with a jingle, and the oppressive heat engulfs you once again. The air is thick with humidity, and despite the forecast promising rain, the sky stretches above in a flawless canvas of unbroken blue. It’s a serene sight, almost too serene, leaving a lingering sense of anticipation, as if something is about to shift.

Shrugging off the uneasy feeling, you prepare to walk back home, reaching for your sunglasses to shield your eyes from the unrelenting sun. But just as you’re about to put them on, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Need help with those, gorgeous?”

How?

How does he manage to appear seemingly out of thin air wherever you go?

“As if there weren’t enough sleazy guys hanging around gas station parking lots already,” you sigh deeply and turn around to find Joel leaning casually against the weathered brick wall, arms crossed, biceps bulging, his face bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

An amused grin spreads across his face as your eyes meet. He looks effortlessly handsome in his jeans and brown t-shirt, his dark hair perfectly framing his face, the grays in his beard illuminated by the sunlight.

“You think I’m sleazy?” he flashes his irresistible smile and tilts his head in curiosity.

“I dunno, Joel,” you scoff and shake your head in mock annoyance. “Some people might consider lurking behind a run-down gas station to pounce on the next best woman that steps out pretty sleazy, you know? Just a heads-up in case you’re planning on spending the night here. I hear mace is pretty unpleasant.”

Joel snorts, his eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners. “Hey now, I’m not after the next best woman,” he tuts, the look in his eyes changing subtly as his gaze lingers on yours. “But you already know that.”

His tone of voice catches you off guard. Your face heats up and you look away bashfully, unsure how to respond.

Joel eyes you curiously, expecting your trademark smart response, but you stay uncharacteristically quiet. He takes you in carefully, appreciating your side profile and the way your shorts hug your thighs. You look so beautiful in your casual outfit, so beautiful without even trying. Always.

The unbearable urge to hold you close, to feel you, to smell you, to show you how beautiful you are to him, takes over his body and mind within a split second.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

“Why?”

He rolls his eyes and tries to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “Get your tight little ass over here or watch what happens.”

You sigh deeply and shuffle towards him, acting like it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world, like your panties aren’t already damp from his command alone.

As soon as you’re within reaching distance, Joel grabs you by the arms and pushes you against the wall on the back of the gas station, caging you in with his body.

“Careful, fuck,” you hiss when you hear the wine bottles hit the wall, but Joel ignores you, too busy kissing your neck greedily while groping your chest.

You let your bag slide down onto the floor as carefully as possible, trying to take advantage of the last few seconds of clarity you have left before Joel’s touch shuts your brain off completely.

“How do you always smell so good?” he mumbles more to himself than to you, his lips trailing sloppy kisses up and down your neck, and along your jaw. You shudder at the sensation, surrendering to the heat of his breath, the electrifying caress of his scruffy beard, and his rough hand massaging your breast. You’re putty in this man’s hands and you love it.

“You know there’s a—mmm, that feels so good—there’s a security cam pointed directly at us?” you whisper between soft moans.

The parking lot is all fenced in by hedges, but you’re still outside in broad daylight. Plus, the camera.

“Don’t care,” Joel whispers into your neck, then pulls up your shirt without skipping a beat. You laugh at his nonchalance and just hope that there’s no live feed broadcasting your…impropriety. There probably is though.

Coming here for late-night snacks or tampons when you ran out was super convenient, but what can you do.

Your pussy wants what it wants.

“God, I love your perfect tits,” Joel leans down to suck one into his mouth while massaging the other with his calloused hand. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, running your hands through his soft hair and arching your back as he licks and sucks on your soft skin.

He releases your tit with a pop when he’s had his fill, but not before biting down on your nipple harshly. “Ow, Joel!” you cry out and shove at his chest, but he just smirks at your adorable tantrum, pressing your hands against the wall over your head, his intense gaze locking with yours.

“Such a delicate little princess,” he taunts you with a chuckle, pressing his bulge against your core so the rough fabric of his jeans rubs your clit perfectly. You furrow your brow and whimper at the feeling, instinctively moving your hips to get the most friction.

“You like that, baby?” he rasps before pressing his lips on yours in a messy, needy kiss — the type of kiss that leaves you breathless and lets you forget who you are.

“Uh-huh,” you moan into his mouth, swirling your tongue around his, so far gone already that you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you right now. As if reading your mind, Joel lets go of your wrist to slide one of his hands down the inside of your shorts and panties, groaning against your lips when he can feel how wet you are.

“Goddamn, angel,” he chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll never get tired of you being a complete whore in public.”

Joel lets go of your other wrist, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, tilting your head up, so he can look into your glazed-over eyes. “You keep those beautiful eyes on me,” he orders as he starts drawing tight circles on your clit with his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure. You nod and can’t hold back your moans this time, feeling your muscles tense and your thighs tremble with every movement of Joel’s hand.

“You want more, baby?” he asks, eager to feel your pussy around his fingers, and to prepare you for his cock as well as possible given your time-sensitive situation.

“Please Joel,” you moan, your breath quickening, “I want you.”

Satisfied with your answer, the pleading look in your eyes and the wetness seeping out of you, he slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, curling and pumping them while continuously stimulating your clit with the heel of his palm. You dig your fingers into his broad shoulders in response, needing an outlet for the pleasure building up inside you since you can’t moan as loud as you want. His dark eyes never leave yours, reveling in the facial expressions and noises he can draw out of you.

One of your hands wanders from grasping his shoulder to gripping his bare arm. You let your nails dig into him, not caring that you’re leaving marks. Joel doesn’t seem to mind either as he keeps going, his eyes locked on yours.

“God, you’re gorgeous, baby,” he whispers, upping the pace and adding a third finger to work you open some more. “Fuck, that’s it,” you groan as you feel yourself getting close already, your walls constricting around Joel’s fingers, making it hard for him to move.

“You better not come until I tell you to,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing just the right amount. You’re so close that you almost come instantly when the diminishing flow of oxygen to your brain intensifies every sensation.

Joel can see the desperation in your eyes, can feel the pure need in your quivering body, can smell your arousal on your skin. His cock is straining painfully in his jeans and grinding against your hip only relieves so much tension.

He needs to fuck you – badly.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises you, the vein on his neck pulsating. “Come all over my hand, baby, let me feel you.” He keeps his eyes on yours as he feels you tensing even more, trying your hardest to keep quiet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you choke out as the tension finally snaps and your pulsating walls clamp down around Joel’s fingers.

“That’s it, baby, you’re so fucking hot,” he pants before loosening the grip on your neck and pressing his lips on yours in a hungry kiss, absorbing all of your moans while you ride out your high on his hand. Your hips stutter as you try to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible, and you grip Joel’s hand in your pants to hold it in place while you do so. When you feel yourself come down again, you release his hand and let your head fall back onto the wall, your chest heaving.

“Still think I’m sleazy, hm?” Joel nudges your nose with his, the grin on his face too wide, too cocky, too irritatingly beautiful.

“You’re such a dork,” you chuckle breathlessly, wiping away sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. “And yes, very much yes.”

“Oh, really?” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his wet hand, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb slowly. “Says a lot about you then, doesn’t it, angel? Getting off on some sleazy guy’s hand behind a gas station.”

You can’t stop the grin spreading on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck, your gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips and back again. You’re whole body’s aching for him to finally fill you up.

Joel takes you in for a moment, a tender smile on his lips, loving how you look at him with your big, needy, glazed-over eyes, like he’s the only thing that matters to you — like he makes you happy. He knows this moment is fleeting, delicate, precious, so he holds onto it for as long and as tightly as he can.

He kisses you, hard, desperate, pressing you against the wall with his body, moaning into your mouth. Your hands explore each other’s bodies feverishly, grabbing, pulling, mapping the contours of shoulders, necks, backs, while stealing each other’s breath.

When you can’t take it anymore, your aching pussy screaming at you for relief, you move your hands down Joel’s belly hastily until you arrive at the waistband of his jeans. You look into his eyes as if asking for permission and he nods quickly, his cock twitching at the thought of finally being inside you.

He helps you open the button and zipper of his jeans before quickly pulling them down together with his boxer briefs to free his cock and balls. He lets out a labored breath when you spit on your hand and start jerking his cock, your left hand massaging his balls a little harsher than you usually would.

Joel’s strangled groans let you know that he’s loving every bit of it.

“You keep that up—fuck, that feels good—and I’m gonna come all over your shirt,” he chuckles against your lips, grunting when you increase the speed of your strokes. “Turn—oh shit—turn around for me, baby.”

You do so eagerly, and Joel loses no time pulling your shorts and panties down in one swift motion, exposing your ass and pussy to the light breeze that’s dancing through the air. You lean against the wall on your forearms, arching your back a bit, and wiggling your ass in anticipation.

With one hand guiding his cock through your wet folds a few times before nudging your entrance, Joel presses his other hand against the wall to better brace himself. When he’s sufficiently coated in your juices, he pushes into you slowly, watching in awe how your body swallows his cock inch by inch. You whimper a little too loudly at the delicious stretch, unable to keep quiet now that you’re feeling him inside you.

“Shh, I’m not even halfway in, angel,” he purrs, tracing your neck with his lips. “Be a good girl and shut the fuck up.”

He then pushes all the way into you in one harsh thrust, immediately clasping his hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. You ball your hands into fists and close your eyes, getting lost in feeling him deep inside of you.

You moan softly into his hand as Joel keeps thrusting up into you, his strokes rough and desperate. “Feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans, leaning back a bit to watch your ass jiggle with every snap of his hips.

You whimper and clench around him as a particularly deep stroke brings about a more intense wave of pleasure than before. Joel smirks and leans his head in closer to you, his lips grazing your ear. He removes his hand from your mouth, wanting nothing more than to hear your pretty little noises unfiltered.

“You liked that one, huh?” he growls into your ear, his husky voice making you shudder. “Uh-huh,” you nod eagerly, desperate for more.

He adjusts his grip on your waist and uses his new leverage to pull you back onto his cock harshly, allowing himself even deeper access to you. You respond immediately, the frequency of your whimpers and restrained moans increasing.

“Faster,” you gasp.

Joel responds with a groan, but he obeys happily, picking up the pace. You hum contentedly as you can feel your second argasm building deep inside you, the tension winding tighter and tighter, climbing higher and higher with every calculated movement of Joel’s hips. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure and reach back to grip his forearm.

Beads of sweat run down his face and back as he tries to hold off until he’s gotten you there again. Luckily, he doesn’t have to hold out too much longer, as it only takes a few more hits to your G-spot to send you over the edge.

“Let go, baby, I got you,” he rasps into your ear, desperate to feel you fall apart one more time. “Thaaat’s it. Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

He talks you through your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your walls clamp down on him, and waves of pleasure course through your trembling body. A cry begins to wrest itself from your throat, but Joel turns your head and presses his lips on yours just in time to keep you from being too loud. You kiss him back feverishly, the taste of him an intoxicating blend of urgency and tenderness.

He lets out a low, guttural groan against your lips as he finally lets himself go, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warm cum.

“Fuck me,” he pants breathlessly as he lowers his head, nestling it between your shoulder blades, soaking up the feeling of being this close to. He trails the nape of your neck with his nose, taking in your scent, and pressing a few soft kisses on your hot skin before pulling out of you.

You both lean against the wall with your backs, still gasping for breath as you continue to come down from your highs. Joel’s the first to break the silence, turning his head and gently rubbing your arm.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me one of these days.”

You giggle and lift his hand to press a kiss on the back of his hand. “There’s worse ways to die. Plus, I’d give a helluva eulogy.”

“Oh yeah?” he gives you a soft smile before taking some tissues out of his back pocket and handing them to you.

“Mhm,” you nod while cleaning yourself haphazardly. “The title: Eight firm reasons why I was happy to know Joel Miller.”

He snorts and looks at you with his jaw dropped in mock offense. “Why are you the way you are?”

“What? It’s gonna be cute and I’m gonna do a whole powerpoint presentation and everything,” you say as you pull your pants and panties back up.

He sighs deeply and pulls you closer by your waist. “I’ll take it. If you promise to wear that little dress you wore when we met.”

You put your hands on his chest and look into his eyes, his heart beating steadily under your palm. “Its a deal. Now, will you finally tell me what you’re really doing here? Or was I right all along?”

“I’m actually working today,” he chuckles, clasping his hands behind your back. “We’re remodeling a guy’s house a few blocks down the street, and I just came here to fill up the gas tank, not thinking about anything until I saw my favorite pair of legs.”

“Charming,” you scoff, cocking an eyebrow. “What a gentleman you are.”

“Would it help if I said that I also saw my favorite smile?”

“Well, yes. But it’s okay,” you smirk. “Can’t blame you for noticing these babies. They’re pretty great.”

Joel nods in agreement, leaning in to draw you closer and slowly kiss up and down your neck, his hands flattening against your spine. You close your eyes and hum at the sensation of his soft lips meeting your sensitive skin, letting yourself sink into his embrace and feel the reassuring touch of his hands.

He smells like home.

“You wanna come over later?” you ask while softly scratching his scalp. “I got some primo wine that I’d graciously share with you and I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but my pasta’ll knock your socks off.”

“Hmm, that sounds wonderful, darlin’,” he murmurs into your skin without stopping his kisses. “But I can’t tonight.”

“Oh?” you pull away from him far enough to look into his eyes. “What important business does Mr. Miller have on a beautiful Saturday night? No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re gonna play bingo at the senior center. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Very funny, you little brat,” he rolls his eyes and pinches your butt playfully. You grin at him, but furrow your brow slightly when you notice a subtle change in his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m, uh,” he clears his throat, “I’m actually going on a date.”

Your face falls. “Oh,” you say quietly.

“It’s not–” he cuts himself off before putting his hands on your arms, squeezing them gently. “We could meet up tomorrow if you want.” He gives you a hopeful smile, but you don’t hear him.

“Darlin’?”

“Huh?” you look at him, confused. Your chest feels tight.

“Are you free tomorrow? I could cook for you. And not to toot my own horn, but I look pretty damn good in an apron.”

“I got plans tomorrow,” you say, taking a step back to pick up your bag. You grip the handles so hard your knuckles turn white. “How did you meet?”

“Tommy set us up ‘cause he thinks I don’t get out enough,” Joel sighs, shaking his head slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Smartass gets married and thinks he suddenly knows everything.”

“Tommy set you up,” you repeat, your left eye twitching.

“Yeah, and she’s nice, so I figured why not.”

“Yeah, why not,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“What are your plans, sweet–”

“Are you going out or…?”

“There’s this gin bar she really likes, so we’re going there. Sounds fun from what she described.”

“Didn’t peg you as a gin drinker,” you scoff, absently kicking the cigarette butt in front of your feet.

“Yeah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “trying new things is good sometimes.”

“I bet,” you nod.

“Darlin’, I–” Joel trails off when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He exhales deeply, his brow furrowed. “Tommy. I gotta get back,” he murmurs regretfully. “Can I drive you home first?”

“No, thanks,” you shake your head. “I need to run a few more errands and you surely wanna take a shower before you, uh, before you go out.”

His gaze lingers on you for a few seconds before he nods, “Okay, sweetheart. But promise to call me if you need anything, hm?”

“Will do, Joel,” you close your eyes when he cups your face and kisses your forehead.

“Be good, okay?”

“You know me.”

He winks at you, gets in his car, and you watch him drive away.

-----

With your sunglasses on, you put one foot in front of the other as you make your way down the street. Going straight back home isn’t an option, so you decide to stroll around and indulge in a bit of window shopping until you don’t feel your heart in your throat anymore. It’s annoying as fuck.

Feeling Joel’s cum pooling in your panties isn’t helping either.

“What did you expect,” you murmur to yourself as you come to a halt in front of your favorite antique shop. Opening a bag of chips, you start eating one after the other while perusing the pieces on display. Kind of like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s — just much less classy, and much more covered in crumbs.

You exhale deeply and let your thoughts wander.

This shop means a lot to you. You got the lamp on your nightstand from here a few days after moving into your apartment. It was expensive, but Tommy encouraged you to get something special, something that would remind you of how far you’ve come and how this was your start into a new life. He was right. You love your lamp and what it stands for.

Maybe, one day, you’ll finally splurge on that one little glass figurine of a sleeping fox you’ve been eyeing for so long. It’s pretty pricey and, at this point, you appreciate that it remains a special treat, something to anticipate and savor when the right moment comes.

You put the half-eaten bag of chips back and haphazardly wipe your fingers on your shorts before deciding to move on. There’s a thrift shop you’ve wanted to check out for a few months now, so you quickly check in Google Maps where it is, then walk in that direction.

You don’t get too far, though.

Just as you turn the corner, you hear a voice call your name. It slices through you, sending a chill down your spine, stopping you dead in your tracks. You never expected to hear that voice again. Paralyzed, unable to run away, you gather your courage and take a deep breath before slowly turning around.

Your heart stops when you see her. She looks…different.

She walks towards you briskly, her dress billowing and fluttering with each step, a nervous energy evident in her movements and her smile.

“Laura.”

“I, uh– hi” she says, her voice slightly shaky. “Would you, um, wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

There’s a dark cloud in the sky.

-----

“I’m visiting a friend for the weekend,” she tells you, deftly adding creamer to her coffee. “It’s so nice here. Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“I do, yeah,” you say, your hand planted firmly on the wooden table next to your cup.

The gentle hum of conversations in the small coffee shop blends with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee — an atmosphere that you’d usually enjoy, but feels claustrophobic right now. You feel like you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“It’s such a lucky coincidence that we ran into each other,” Laura continues, a soft smile on her lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your new hair.”

“I’ve had it for a while,” you respond curtly, avoiding direct eye contact.

“Well, it suits you,” she says softly. As she absentmindedly caresses her little bump, your eyes fixate on the subtle movement.

“How far along are you?” you ask with a tight-lipped smile, still unable to meet her gaze.

Laura’s features soften further, grateful for your question about her pregnancy. “I’m eighteen weeks and thr– no, four days today.”

“How are you feeling?” you circle the rim of your cup with your finger, your leg bouncing continually.

“Oh, um, I’ve had pretty awful morning sickness up until a few weeks ago. It’s, uh, it’s been fine apart from that. I’ve had lots of help, thankfully,” she tells you, taking a sip of her coffee. “My mom got clean about a year ago—unbelievable, I know—and Simon’s been doing good as well. He, um, he got a job at his dad’s firm and we’ve moved into a house with a garden. There’s a forest nearby and I’ve seen all sorts of animals already. You’d absolutely love it.”

She reaches out to you, her hand gently touching your arm as she notices your grip tightening around the cup. “Beanie?” The nickname and the warmth of her touch make you flinch.

“Please look at me,” she whispers, her request carrying a weight of emotion that transcends the simple act of looking at her.

You bite your lip and reluctantly meet her watery eyes — eyes that were once the embodiment of home for you. You’ve tried so hard to let go, to get over your pain, to heal. But now that you’re looking into Laura’s pleading eyes, it feels like you’re right back where you started, the pain in your chest resurfacing like an old wound, a dull ache that intensifies with every beat of your heart.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” she chokes out, reaching across the table again to take your hand in hers.

“Laura–”

“I’m sorry every day, Beanie. I can’t take back what I did and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I–I just miss you so much.” She wipes away her tears with the napkin on the table. “I miss you.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this right now?” you ask with raised eyebrows, searching her face and pulling your hand out of hers.

“I–yes,” she sniffles into her napkin. “I’m so happy I ran into you, I really think it was meant to–”

“You know what, Laura?” you sigh, fed up with this charade. “Just spare me, okay? I’m over you pretending that you care even the least bit about me. This,” you gesture with your hand around her face, “this whole innocent act you’re putting on right now, it got old three years ago. I was blinded enough to believe it back then, but that version of me is long gone, dead. So, if you’re just here to try and manipulate me into feeling sorry for you, I got bad news for you.”

“That’s not–I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m so incredibly so–”

“How dare you even say that you’re sorry?” you hiss, unable to grasp how a person can be this deceitful. “You’re not sorry for what you did, Laura. Come on, admit that it was the best thing you ever did and that you go to bed every night being proud of yourself for it.”

“Beanie, please,” she whispers. “I am sorry and not one day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. I–” she cuts herself off and takes a sip of her coffee, her hand trembling terribly as she sets it back down. “I know I was a horrible friend to you and that I hurt you, I do. Please believe me.”

You turn your face away and exhale deeply. Why is this happening?

“You were more than my friend, Laura,” you say quietly. “You were my sister. The only person I confided in, the one I fully trusted.” You ball your fist on your thigh, the physical pain of your nails digging into the flesh of your palm helping a little. “To this day, I haven’t told anyone else why I cut ties with my family or how I broke my hand. I only ever told you. Because you were there for me. Because that’s what we did — be there for each other.”

You hear Laura sniffle, but she’s seemingly got enough decency not to interrupt you.

“I told you what was going on with me and Simon and you fucking took that and jumped into bed with him. You broke my trust and lied to my face for months.”

You rub your temple, closing your eyes for a few seconds.

Laura says your name gently and you reluctantly turn your head to look at her. Her eyes are red and tearful, her hand trembling as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I should have told you what was going on, I know I should have. I was such a coward and then–then I just didn’t have the guts to do it after you told me you were–”

“Don’t,” you sharply lift your index finger and glare at her.

“Look,” she exhales, a pained expression etched on her face. “I can’t take back what I–what we did. It wasn’t fair to you and I can assure you that Simon feels bad about it, too. Especially for not being there, you know, in the hospital.”

Is she for fucking real right now?

“How do you still think this has anything to do with Simon? I don’t give a shit about what he did or didn’t do. I didn’t trust him for a second while we were together. He’s an asshole who’s never gonna change, but you–“

You’re startled by the tears running down your cheeks, wiping them away quickly with your hands. You hate her for making you cry. And you hate her for giving you this pretentious empathetic look.

“I was bleeding to death and couldn’t reach you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anger as your eyes pierce hers. “I tried Simon, too, but deep down I expected him not to care about me actually dying. I was just surprised that you didn’t care either. Don’t you dare look away right now. You need to hear this. I–I saw my life flash before my eyes before they put me under and the only thing I saw was you. You, Laura. My body was dying and the only thing my stupid heart cared about was to see you one last time.”

A hiccup interrupts you, momentarily breaking the flow of your words.

“I was scared to death and you weren’t there. I fucking needed you and you weren’t fucking there,” you whisper.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for not being there that day. Please, believe me, I am. It just–” she runs her hands through her hair, a new set of tears rolling down her wet cheeks. “I was so fucked up back then. I–I tried to get love from wherever I could and then I saw all your texts and calls too late and I didn’t know what to do. I was so overwhelmed with everything and didn’t know how to be better or how to help you. I’d give anything to be able to go back and change that,” Laura sobs, her voice barely intelligible.

Pathetic.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me once in the past three years, then?”

She takes in a deep breath through her nose, then exhales through her mouth before wiping her nose with her wet napkin. “I had to get my own shit together,” she murmurs defeatedly, “and that wasn’t easy. I dunno what to tell you other than I’m sorry that I fucked your life u–”

You abruptly get up from your seat, the chair protesting with a loud creak against the floor. You pay it no mind, nor the heads turning to look at you. All you can hear is your blood rushing in your ears, and all you can see is the woman who broke your heart.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you spit at her, leaning on the table and glaring into her eyes. “You don’t have the power to fuck my life up. My life’s been fucking great since I got rid of all the people trying to drag me down with them. I’ve never been this fucking happy before, so fuck you and your sorry apology. I don’t fucking want it or need it.”

You grab your bag and rummage through it for cash. “I feel sorry for you, Laura,” you murmur before walking past her and tossing a twenty-dollar bill onto the table in front of her.

“Why?” She doesn’t look at you.

“‘Cause you have no idea what you’re in for,” you laugh mirthlessly and shake your head. “You really believe he’s gonna be there for his kid and stay with you?”

“Yes.”

“What in the world would make you think that,” you ask incredulously.

“Because we’re married,” she blurts out, turning in her seat to look up at you.

You feel your soul leaving your body, hovering over you and watching your lifeless body standing there – shocked, paralyzed, heartbroken.

“What did you just say?” you whisper, your words barely audible.

“We got married after we found out I was pregnant.”

You’re about to say something in response — how can you be so stupid, why would you bind yourself to that man, you know what he did to me — but your eyes fall onto her bump before finding her gaze again, and you decide to keep your mouth shut. It’s no use. She’s made her decision.

“Good luck, Laura,” you turn around and make for the door. “You’re gonna need it.”

You welcome the rain that pours onto your face, washing away the fresh tears that roll down your cheeks. It doesn’t bother you that a car honks at you when you cross the street without looking. It also doesn’t bother you that your clothes are sopping wet and sticking to your body within a few minutes of your legs carrying you back home. You’re not allowing yourself to feel anything right now.

You’d break if you did, so you keep it together.

Until you walk by the gas station.

-----

“You’re not that trashy,” you murmur to yourself just as you’re about to drink straight out of the wine bottle.

Instead, you shuffle into your kitchen, get out your fanciest wine glass and pour yourself a generous amount. Your drenched clothes cling to you like a second skin. If you cared, you’d take them off to not end up with pneumonia, but the discomfort is soothing somehow.

You eye your sofa, but shake your head. You can’t sit on it like this, especially not with red wine in your shaky hand. You’re still coherent enough to care about materialistic bullshit like your pretty sofa. Priorities, right?

The wine goes down smoothly and the bottle is empty in no time.

It’s not enough to stop the heaviness in your heart or the suffocating thoughts and images flooding your mind, though. You’re helpless in halting the relentless surge of them as you find yourself bent over the kitchen sink, fingers gripping the cool edge of the countertop, your head bowed low between your tense shoulders. Your eyes are shut, and your breaths come out short and ragged.

You see Joel leaning against a wall, beer in hand, looking a bit lost among the other housewarming guests happily chatting. That is, until you step in and your eyes meet. The spark in his eyes and the soft smile he gives you make your heart flutter. You talk about your lives, you flirt, you laugh, you go outside for fresh air, he lends you his flannel.

Your first kiss feels so familiar it hurts.

He wraps his arms around you and you wrap yours around him, pulling him close, clinging to him as tightly as possible. Your heartbeats synchronize and his warmth envelops you in a soothing embrace. You lean your head against his chest. You feel at peace.

“I could never be with someone like you,” he whispers, his nose grazing your ear. He kisses your cheek softly, his hands running up and down your back soothingly.

“What?” You lift your head in shock and look into his eyes. They look different.

“You’re broken, darlin’,” he says softly, his eyes showing genuine pity. “I could never love you.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead.

“No one could.”

The mirror shatters, shards of glass scattering like stars across your living room floor.

11:26 p.m.

You sit on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest with your left arm tightly wrapped around them, your head resting on your knees as violent sobs wrack your body. You’re not really sure how it happened, or why, but it did.

The bathroom is filled with beeps as you wait anxiously for the call to connect, blood steadily dripping from your right hand.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whisper desperately.

“Darlin’?” you finally hear a raspy voice respond from the other end of the line.

“She’s fucking pregnant, Tommy,” you sob into the phone, your slurred words barely intelligible.

“Hey, hey,” he says with a soothing voice, laced with concern, “who’s pregnant?”

“She’s fucking pregnant and she ma–married Simon and now they’re the perfect fucking family,” you slur, your sobs making it hard to get out what your jambled brain is telling you to say.

“Where are you, sweetheart?” you hear Tommy’s soothing yet firm voice in your ear.

“Ho–ome,” you sob, “on, um, bath–bathroom floor.”

“Did you take something?”

“Jus’ alco–hol,” you sniffle. “Wanted to, um, stop my stupid brain.”

“Alright, darlin’,” he says calmly. “Can you tell me what you see?” You look around with unfocused and tearful eyes, trying to focus on your spinning surroundings.

“Can see the sink and my, uh—fuck, it’s bleeding,” you hiss as your bleary eyes try to focus on your bloody hand.

“What’s bleeding?” Tommy asks, his eyes widening in shock, as he immediately sits up straight and quietly exits the bedroom so as to not wake his sleeping wife.

“Jus’ my, uh, hand I think,” you mumble, moving your injured hand in front of your face, then looking around if you can spot blood coming from anywhere else on your body.

You can’t hold back a chuckle when you remember why you got a bloody hand.

“Listen to me,” you hear Tommy’s uncharacteristically stern voice. Did he sound like this when he was in the army? “I need you to turn on your camera and let me see your hand. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I– wait a sec,” you mumble and finally press the video call button after a few clumsy attempts.

You change the direction of the camera, so it shows your hand and not your face, and you try your best to hold your phone as steady as possible with your trembling left hand.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy gasps at the picture you’re presenting to him, shock and concern etched on his face. He expected a scrape or maybe even a cut that was bleeding a bit, but he wasn’t expecting this. Your whole hand is stained with dried and fresh blood, your knuckles are bruised, and there’s a two-inch cut on the back of your hand that’s gushing blood.

“What?” you giggle deliriously at his shocked face. “‘S not that bad, issit.”

“How did it happen?”

“Punched a mirror.”

You don’t tell him you punched it a second time when it was already broken, and that’s why you cut yourself so badly.

“I’ll send Joel over to help you, okay? He lives closer to you than I do.”

Your brain has never sobered up faster than at the thought of Joel seeing you like this.

“No,” you shout into the phone, startling Tommy and yourself alike. “Please, please don’t tell Joel, please. I–I’m fine, I’m sorry I called, I’m so fucking sorry, Tommy,” you start sobbing again. “He’s on a date,” you blurt out, “and I– please, Tommy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Hey, hey, shh,” Tommy tries to calm you, glossing over how you know about the date. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not telling Joel and you don’t need to apologize, sweetheart.” He gives you his signature smile — the smile that made you feel safe the first time you saw it.

“Can you clean the wound yourself if I tell you what to do?”

“Mhm,” you answer, placing your phone on the floor and wiping your nose on your wet shirt.

“Alright, very good,” he coos. “Do you think you can get up and look for a first-aid-kit in your medicine cabinet?”

His words take a few seconds to register in your brain, but you manage to understand them and get out a quiet “Yeah”. You look up at the mirror cabinet above your sink before shifting your weight to get up. When you automatically put your weight on your right hand, you cry out in pain.

“What happened?” you hear Tommy’s concerned voice. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

“‘S okay,” you groan, clutching your wrist with your left hand, a new set of tears making their way down your cheeks.

“Tell me when you got the kit.”

You get up slowly by pulling yourself up by the rim of your bathtub, then hold on to the sink with your uninjured hand. You take a few deep breaths before opening the cabinet door, looking for the first-aid-kit. Fortunately, it’s bright red, so you see it fairly quickly.

“Got it,” you mumble loud enough for the speaker on the floor to pick it up.

“Okay, darlin’,” Tommy says softly. “Take the kit and open it. Tell me if you can see the gauze.”

“Mhm, can see it.”

“Alright, now run your hand under cold water first. When most of the blood’s cleaned off, you press the gauze directly onto the cut. You understand?”

“Yeah, got it.” You turn on the faucet, hissing as the cold water irritates your cut and all the scrapes on your fingers and knuckles. Your blood pools in the sink, mingling with the water, creating a macabre dance of crimson tendrils that gradually dissolve and swirl away.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, sitting back down, your left hand firmly pressing the gauze onto the cut. You close your eyes and shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Tommy,” you whisper. “For dragging you into my bullshit. Again.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he coos. “You know I’d always drop everything to help you.”

“But that’s so fucked up, Tommy,” you blurt out. “You shouldn’t have to help me ‘cause I just can’t get my shit together. You got your own life to worry about and you got the most wonderful wife in the whole world and I’m this fucked up little gremlin calling you at night ‘cause I punched a fucking mirror like a kid having a fucking temper tantrum. Why the fuck would you put up with that?” You inhale and exhale deeply. “Sorry for my language.”

He can’t hold back the genuine laugh escaping his lips.

“What the fuck, Tommy,” you try to say in your most offended voice, but it’s kind of unconvincing since now you can’t hold back your own laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, clearing his throat, “but you’re being ridiculous. Get it through that thick skull of yours that there are people who genuinely love you and care about you. I don’t have to be there for you; I want to.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” you murmur, wiping your nose on your shoulder. “For everything.”

“You wanna talk about what happened today?”

“It’s, uh,” you sigh deeply, “it’s been a strange day.” You look at your injured hand and suddenly feel beyond exhausted. “I think the bleeding has stopped.”

“That’s good. Let’s continue, then, hm?”

He guides you through applying antiseptic to the cut and all the little scrapes on your knuckles and fingers, and through bandaging your hand correctly.

“Can you move every finger?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you rotate your wrist?”

“Fucking hurts, but yeah.”

“You’ll go see a doctor tomorrow, so they can give you an x-ray and make sure the wound is clean, you hear me?”

“Mhm, will do.”

“Now, go to bed, sweetheart. Your back’s gonna thank you tomorrow.”

You drag your feet to your bedroom, phone in hand, turn on your bedside lamp, then suddenly hear Tommy say “There she is!” when you accidentally change the camera direction.

You laugh defeatedly and shake your head at his beaming smile as you plop down onto your bed. “Can you believe I punched a mirror? So dramatic, my god.”

Tommy chuckles and looks at you with adoration. You look like a complete mess with your disheveled hair, cracked lips and blood-stained shirt, but all he sees are your eyes and the smile on your lips. He wishes you‘d be kinder to yourself. But he knows better than to push you. He’s confident you’ll find your way.

“I’m gonna turn the camera off, okay?” you murmur. “Don’t want you to get nightmares.”

“Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful little gremlin I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be nice to me right now,” you pout, eliciting a chuckle from Tommy. Turning off the camera, you let your phone fall onto the bed. You strip off your pants, panties and socks, shrug off your shirt and grab a fresh one from your drawer.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Could you, um, could you stay on the phone with me?” you ask as you put on a new pair of panties. “Just for a bit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You just close your eyes and go to sleep. I’m here.”

You slide under your covers, turn off the lamp and close your eyes.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Thank you.”

-----

Thanks for reading, guys!! 🤍 part 5 || part 7 || series masterlist

tagging: @paleidiot @pattwtf let me know if you want to be added!

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lilacura · 5 months

Text

Sun & Moon

pairing: Giselle x Reader

>wc: 1k

summary: Aeri's chill collides with Y/N's warmth, creating a heartwarming dance of love that defies their differences.

Aeri sat in the corner of the college library, her jet-black hair cascading over her shoulders like a curtain of shadows. Despite the warmth of the room, she wore her signature leather jacket, giving her an aura of mystery that surrounded her like a cloak. Known for her icy demeanor and piercing gaze, Aeri was an enigma to most, but not to Y/N.

Y/N, with her infectious smile and perpetually cheerful attitude, was the golden retriever of the campus. Always eager to make new friends and spread positivity, she seemed to be a walking ray of sunshine. She couldn't help but be drawn to Aeri's enigmatic allure, and despite the chilly exterior, Y/N saw through to the warmth within.

One day, after a chance encounter in the library, Y/N approached Aeri with a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. "Hey, Aeri, right? Mind if I sit here?" Y/N gestured to the empty seat across from her.

Aeri looked up from her book, locking eyes with Y/N. Most people would have faltered under that gaze, but not Y/N. "Sit wherever you want," Aeri replied, her tone cold.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N persisted in breaking through Aeri's icy shell. They started with small talk, discussing classes and interests. Y/N's genuine curiosity and unwavering positivity slowly began to chip away at the walls Aeri had built around herself.

One chilly autumn afternoon, Y/N noticed Aeri shivering on their way back from class. Without a second thought, Y/N shrugged off her own jacket and draped it over Aeri's shoulders. "You always seem so cold," Y/N remarked with a teasing grin.

Aeri glanced down at the borrowed jacket, a hint of surprise in her eyes. No one had ever offered her such warmth before, both metaphorically and literally. From that moment, a subtle shift occurred in their dynamic.

Aeri found herself drawn to Y/N's sunny disposition, a stark contrast to her own brooding nature. Y/N, on the other hand, appreciated the depth and complexity that lurked beneath Aeri's stoic exterior. Their friendship evolved into something more profound, and soon they found themselves entangled in the delicate threads of romance.

As the winter months descended upon the college campus, Aeri and Y/N's relationship deepened. They shared stolen glances during lectures, exchanged whispered secrets in the quiet corners of the library, and held hands beneath the blanket of snow that blanketed the campus.

Aeri, who had once detested the idea of relying on anyone, discovered solace in Y/N's presence. Y/N, in turn, cherished the moments when Aeri let her guard down, revealing the vulnerability that lurked beneath the surface. Their differences became the very foundation of their connection, a perfect blend of fire and ice.

One evening, as they sat on a bench overlooking the frozen lake, Y/N couldn't help but comment on their stark differences. "You know, Aeri, you're like the winter to my summer. I bring warmth, and you bring that cool, mysterious breeze."

Aeri smirked, a rare display of amusement. "I guess we balance each other out."

In crowded cafeterias, where Aeri's piercing gaze would make others uneasy, she'd catch someone staring, and with a subtle glare, silence the whispers. Y/N, witnessing the exchange, would playfully nudge Aeri, who couldn't help but smirk, appreciating Y/N's unwavering support.

During late-night study sessions, when frustration mounted, Aeri's scowl would melt into a subtle smile as Y/N shared a silly joke or a comforting gesture. The library, once a fortress of solitude, became a space where Aeri found solace in the midst of Y/N's cheerful presence.

Once, in a heated debate with classmates, Aeri's stern voice would soften as she defended a point, only to catch Y/N's proud gaze. It was a silent acknowledgment that, despite the gruff exterior, Aeri valued Y/N's understanding and encouragement.

Amidst the chaos of a campus event, Aeri, overwhelmed by the crowd, sought refuge in Y/N's reassuring smile. Y/N's infectious energy cut through the noise, creating a bubble where Aeri could momentarily escape her brooding thoughts.

As seasons changed, so did their dynamics. In the vibrant colors of spring, Aeri's eyes softened as Y/N insisted on a picnic, embracing the joy that bloomed around them. And in the heat of summer, Aeri's stoicism cracked when Y/N dragged her into spontaneous water fights, laughter echoing across the campus.

In quieter moments, like the hush of falling snow, Aeri's fingers would intertwine with Y/N's, finding warmth in the simple act of connection. Y/N's presence was a beacon, softening the hard edges of Aeri's world, and Aeri's calm strength was a grounding force for Y/N's boundless enthusiasm.

Through it all, Aeri's glares and Y/N's sunshine became a dance, a rhythmic harmony that played out in the smallest gestures and shared glances. Each instance was a stroke on the canvas of their love story, painting a picture of a relationship that thrived on the beautifully imperfect balance they found in each other.

Their college years unfolded in a montage of shared laughter, whispered confessions, and stolen kisses. Aeri's once icy facade thawed in the warmth of Y/N's love, revealing the depth of emotions she had long kept hidden.

On graduation day, as they stood hand in hand, Aeri's stoic expression softened with a touch of nostalgia. "I never thought I'd find someone like you, sun" she confessed, her gaze fixed on Y/N.

Y/N grinned, squeezing Aeri's hand. "And I never thought I'd find someone who could handle my perpetual sunshine, moon."

They embarked on post-college adventures together, facing the challenges of adulthood hand in hand. Aeri, once the embodiment of mystery, had found her anchor in Y/N's unwavering joy. And Y/N, the eternal optimist, discovered the beauty in embracing the complexity that Aeri brought into her life.

In the tapestry of their love story, Aeri and Y/N, the girl with the icy exterior and the golden retriever of joy, continued to complement and complete each other, creating a narrative that transcended the seasons of their lives.

a/n: this is rlly cute actually, i love grumpy x sunshine

#aespa #aespa x reader #giselle #aespa giselle #aeri #aeri uchinaga #giselle x reader #aeri x reader #aespa aeri #girl group #gg x reader

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saltsicklover · 9 months

Text

Part Seven

This one is on the shorter side, but there is so much angst and imagery stuffed into this baby. Once again, hurt my heart to write and I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, illusions to nausea/being sick, mentions of blood and loose teeth, pocket knife/blade, so much angst. Mentions of the Bradshaw's. Dumbass Bob Floyd.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Sunny disappears into the crowd, leaving the Daggers standing there, open mouthed and confused, too stunned to do anything but stand there. Natasha takes that moment to bend down to pick up the object that was thrown at Bob's chest; one of those gift shop pocket knives, the name "Robert" engraved on the side. The paint is chipped, the letters once a beautiful turquoise now flaking and faded.

The swell in Bob's chest leaves him feeling flaky and faded too, chipped around the edges from the confrontation. Palms are sticky with sweat, his fingers sticking together. He doesn't meet anyone's eyes- she walked out the door with his gaze still stuck to her shoulder blades.

Natasha is angry now, all the hurt that was directed at Bob has seared pain into her skin. Phoenix holds it out to Bob but he doesn't notice, his eyes unfocused, the colors of the crowd swirling around his vision.

Bob is drawn back to the Daggers with a swift push to his shoulder. He's met with Natasha's burning eyes melting their way into his own. She slams the blade onto the table, her palm doing little to muffle the sound. Bob jumps, gooseflesh breaking out over his skin. The sick feeling swarming in his stomach doesn't let up, and neither do the eyes of his teammates.

"What is this, Bob?" Her tone is sharp, so sharp he can almost feel the way is slices across his skin. Maybe bleeding would have been easier to digest. When he finally flicks his eyes over the object, his peripheral catches Natasha's hand tensing and releasing. The turquoise is older now, worn with age and use, but he would recognize it anywhere. His luck knife. He hasn't seen that knife in ten years. He lost it on Prom night, he lost it after his fight with her. All of his luck must have gone with it.

"Oh my god, I haven't seen that in..." Bob's words trail off, the puzzle pieces finally falling into place. His eyes go wide at the realization, heart beating erratically.

Sunny had seemed familiar to him the moment her hair dropped from the delicate twists she had it pulled back in. From the way it dropped in front of her eyes, the little hints of color peaking out from behind them. He swore he recognized the gentle slope of her jaw, the undisturbed flesh from the tip of her chin all the way up to the lobe of her ear.

Her jewelry glittered in the light, yet his eyes were transfixed to her skin- the familiarity of it. The flesh of a long lost love that he couldn't quite place.

Frankly, he should have recognized her the moment her brows lowered in frustration, after all, he spent the later portion of his teen years looking at that same expression. Suddenly he wishes she was still standing in front of him, giving him that awful look; at least then she would still be standing there with him.

He had only seen her in a dress once, but it was shrouded by the darkness of the sky, then. He remembers it perfectly, the delicate beading and the cool feeling of the fabric. He remembers the tennis shoes she wore and how the sight of them made his heart flutter, laughter falling from his lips. It was the most authentic he had ever seen her.

Bob knows that he could pick Duchenne out of a crowd, blindfolded and unannounced. He could figure her out by touch alone- from the way her breathing would catch as he let his fingers trace over the plane of her torso, feeling her bottom rib with a gentle brush of his knuckles.

That's not to say he wouldn't recognize the way he smelt, the vanilla perfume layered over a musky cologne. Or the way her lips tasted like cherry flavored Chapstick, (something she only wore because it reminded her of how his tobacco smelt, not that he was privy to that information), or how her lips were still chapped beneath the viscus, sticky layer of product.

He would have recognized her touch, the feeling of her knuckles pressed firmly to his own chest. From the way her rings dug into his skin, wrinkling his clothes, and the way his heart tried to beat out of his chest to get even closer to her- if his heart could've touched her hands he would have let her hold it.

After all, Bob walked into love with her with his eyes open; it wasn't until he was already in love that he closed his eyes and let the self preserving hate take him over. His heart was Dr. Jekyll, his brain Mr. Hyde, a story told a thousand times before, yet it's still unclear to himself as to which one happened to be evil. That's how it goes right? The inability to see the evil in oneself only to have it be their downfall, their demise?

Bob would cut the evil out of himself with that old pocket knife, use up the rest of the luck left beneath the still-there chips of paint , and it wouldn't be enough. He would still be back to the same old story, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, this time with more blood and just as much heartache.

So, Bob lies to himself- he lies that he didn't recognize her because she had changed so much, but in reality, he was the one who had changed. It didn't matter that he did it for her; he still lost sight of what it was all for. He lost sight of her. But, he thinks, if he could have just touched her with his eyes closed, he would have known it was her. His heart would have known with it's relative location to her hands. His heart calls to them like the moon calls to the waves; he only wishes it was strong enough to pull them closer.

Bob thinks he might be sick, the feeling of pulling G's nothing compared to the punch to the gut the last few minutes had been. The center of his chest aches, source unclear.

"You better tell me what the hell is going on right this second Floyd, or I am going to kick your ass so hard you won't be able to sit in the jet next week," Phoenix's voice pulls him from his spiral. She slams her fist onto the table beside her. Bob flinches, eyes squeezing shut, tight. He has heard her angry before, scared before, pissed off before, but nothing compared to the way she was striking the fear of God into him now.

"Duchenne," Bob begins, not quite trusting his voice, "That's her, that's Duchenne... Oh my God,"

Bob feels unsteady, the ground is swaying beneath him. His body flushes hot then cold then back again, sweat slick and hot to the touch. His stomach twists, threatening to take his heart in with it. He manages to lean against the table, a hand on the sticky wooden top.

Natasha is steadily putting the pieces together, one by one. It was slow work, like winding red string from clue to clue, not being able to see the whole thing from this close. It's all inky fingerprints and unfocused photographs. Her fingertips might as well have been dyed red from all the the theories she has created in her head, only to unwind them herself to construct another. Her brain aches with the pain of papercuts.

Rooster is still in the dark, the expression on his face giving light to that fact. His emotion is hidden behind the thickness of his mustache and eyebrows, the facial hair hiding the confused displeasure written into his features. He had been too busy keeping Jake from jumping into the middle of the whole thing to pay enough attention to the details, the entire situation like trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box, a couple of the crutial pieces lost.

Hangman on the other hand? He is just far enough away to see the whole picture clearly. The whole mother fucking thing, the outline of the string from clue to clue; from the way Sunny reacted, her knuckles white, voice pained, all the way to the way Bob sways on his feet, green around the gills, eyes bleary with unshed tears. He sees it all perfectly, and it makes him see red.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Seresin speaks up this time, his voice levels above that of Natasha's. Bob flounders, going a shade greener. Hangman is not surprised at Bob's lack of explanation, the man has always been quiet and unassuming, but he doesn't have the patience for this, for waiting.

Bob manages to stammer out a couple of useless sounds, none of which come even close to an answer that Hangman would deem acceptable. Bob's brain is playing catch up, the whole evening on rewind. Hell, everything Phoenix ever told him plays through his head on fast forward, the stories jumbling together in his brain, lacking detail.

Bob was so sure he was going to like Sunny, that she would be his absolute definition of perfect. And fuck, she was, she is, she has always been. And he fucked it up so many years ago and now it looks like there is no chance of any sort of redemption, not with the way Sunny looked at him.

Again, he thinks, maybe the blood would be easier. At least wounds on the outside can be tended with gentle touches and medical care. It's the beyond pained expression Sunny wore and the venom in her words that are forever circulating through Bob's bloodstream that can't be treated. There is no cure for heartbreak, not like this.

"Bob, you will not get a second warning, I will not be asking you again," Hangman begins to move towards Bob, moving step by step, inch by inch, each micromovement a warning to the WSO, speak now or forever wish he had, likely with a mouth full of blood and loose teeth. Bob shudders.

He might be sick. He swallows bile and mucus that have begun to mingle in the back of his throat. The mixture doesn't go down easy, a lump stuck in his throat.

"We went to school together," Bob speaks up finally, the words coming out scratchy, maybe a little detatched, "And I- I was horrible to her. The whole time- I-"

"Robert Floyd, you better be fucking joking. Duchenne?!" Natasha yells, the lightbulb moment finally hitting her. She angles her body towards Bob, now boxing him, right along Hangman's side. "My best friend, Sunny, is your Duchenne? The girl you tormented for years, the girl who you told wasn't worth it, breaking her fucking heart right before graduation?! That Duchenne?"

"Yes," The word fell from Bob's lips so sheepishly he barely hears himself utter it. He lets his vision swim with the colors of the Hard Deck patrons again. He wants to shrink away, fade from existence.

He has never seen his squad so mad, the anger dripping off of them, puddling around his feet. If he's not careful, he might just drown in it, face down on dry land.

That began the yelling. Somewhere between the lack of eye contact that the barely heard words, Natasha's heart broke all over again for her best friend, just like it had the night Bob confessed everything to her in the safety of his truck cab.

Hangman has surpassed pissed. To have seen a woman upset at the hands of a man, was one thing that ignited rage within the man, but when it was Bob who had caused such pain, and when the woman just so happened to be Sunny, Hangman could have torched a whole town.

They were both ripping into Bob, and he just stood there and took everything they gave him. He deserved every piece of it.

Nothing would change his mind from the fact that he fucked up. He could still hear the sound of her strangled cry, the same one that has been playing on repeat since he walked away from her all of those years ago. That would've been bad enough, the strangled cry a broken record in his psyche, but the look of her tear filled eyes is now burned into the forefront of his mind.

He fucked up, worse this time than he has ever before. Far worse.

Rooster used the commotion to slip out of the bar and after Sunny. He found her down in the sand, leaning against a life guard tower. She was sobbing, harsh cries wracking through her body as she shook. He didn't know if it was from anger or if her body was just trying to release all of the tension. It didn't matter either way.

"Hey, Sunshine," Bradley begins, his voice soft "Do you wa-" Before Bradley can finish his sentence, Sunny has thrown herself into his arms, grasping onto the only bit of loose fabric she can find at the small of his back. She tries to speak, the words coming out jagged and hoarse. They aren't anything Bradley can make out. He doesn't bother to try, he knows that listening to her comes later. What she needs, right there in that moment is something to ground her back to reality. She needs to keep from slipping further and further into the atmosphere, her brain running haywire in the clouds.

Bradley brings his arms up around her shoulders, one hand coming up to the back of her head. He cradles her head against his chest, his fingers moving gently over her scalp. He repeats the same movements he learned from his mother, the comforting touches he would receive after nightmares and when he had episodes of grief over his father.

He missed his mother in that moment, as he hums out a melody just loud enough to be heard over her ragged breathes. His brain flashes with images of his father, few and far between and a little blurry. The song was his first. Then it was his mother's. Now it's his to share.

Slowly he sways her back and fourth, the motion small but deliberate. She lets out a deep breath, one that she didn't realize she was holding. The fingertips against her skull seems to bring her crying to a lull, her body no longer shaking. Her hands tremble a bit, still tangled in the top of his uniform. He can feel that it's no longer tucked in the way it should be, and the tears on the front side have turned the once crisp tan fabric into a dark, patchy mess.

"Let's take a seat, Sunshine, so you can catch your breathe, then, if you want to, you can tell me all about what just happened, okay?" Bradley's voice is so quiet as he whispers into the hair at the top of her head. All Sunny can do is shake her head yes before she untangles herself from around Rooster, attempting to dry her tears with the backs of her hands. He takes her by the elbow, guiding her down to the sand below.

Bradley leans his body back against the guard tower, legs spread out in front of him with her body sat between them. He pulls her back into his chest, hands running from her shoulders down to her elbows and back up again, yet another thing he learned from his mother. He had sat just this way with her more times than he'd care to admit. She would say that it helped to regulate breathing, but in reality, it was to help keep her from bursting into tears right along with him.

He keeps his head back against the tower, eyes looking out at the lapping waves. Sunny looks out at them too, slowly finding the courage to tell Bradley everything. He hums the tune again, the silence filled by the lapping of the waves. Sunny can still hear her heart beating in her ears, blood rushing. Somehow, she knows, that this is exactly how seeing Bobby again should sound- crashing, rushing, and a gentle lullaby. It's everything they have ever been, and maybe everything they will continue to be, even if Bradley has to sub in the tune right now, in this moment, under the amber glow of the full moon.

Sunny's hands still shake, pins and needles vibrating from within, like they are being called a million miles away from her; or maybe sixty or so yards away, up the staircase and through the crowd of the Hard Deck, right to where Bob Floyd's heart sits beating erratically in his chest.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fic #bob floyd angst #once an asshole #best friend natasha trace #brother bradley bradshaw #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction

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hornyforherbert · 3 months

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I Just Wanna Be With You ✧

WC: 938

CW: Fluff, Kissing

Pairing: Sam X Female Reader (Y/n)

A/N: To the anon who requested, I hope you love this and it’s what you envisioned! Thank you for requesting.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Cincinnati Bengals or Sam Hubbard and I am NOT affiliated with either of them in any way. This is simply fiction! Enjoy reading.

As I stepped into Sam's house, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air. The cozy atmosphere made me feel at home, even though I'd been here countless times before. Sam and I had been best friends for years, spending lazy offseason Sundays watching movies and sharing secrets.

"Hey, Y/n," Sam greeted me with a warm smile, his eyes shining with genuine affection. It was moments like this that made me wonder if there could be something more between us.

"Hey, Sam," I replied, feeling my heart flutter at the sight of him. His tousled brown hair and easy smile never failed to make my stomach do somersaults.

"I made your favorite, chocolate chip cookies," Sam said, gesturing towards the kitchen where a plate of freshly baked treats sat on the counter. He always knew how to make me feel special.

"You're the best, Sam," I beamed, walking over to grab a cookie. The warm, gooey chocolate melted in my mouth, and I couldn't help but let out a content hum.

"So, what movie are we watching tonight?" I asked, settling onto the couch next to Sam. His presence was comforting, familiar, and yet tonight, it felt different.

"I was thinking we could watch that rom-com you love so much," Sam suggested, his eyes meeting mine. I could see a hint of something more in his gaze, a spark that hadn't been there before.

"Sounds perfect," I replied, trying to push away the sudden rush of emotions welling up inside me. Sam was my best friend, my confidant, but lately, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was something more.

As the movie played on the screen, I found myself stealing glances at Sam, noticing the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and how his hand brushed against mine innocently.

"Y/n," Sam's voice interrupted my thoughts, bringing my focus back to him. "There's something I need to tell you."

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned towards him, wondering what could be on his mind. "What is it, Sam?"

Sam took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "I know we've always been friends, but lately, I've been feeling something more. I've been wanting to tell you for so long..."

My breath caught in my throat as I listened to Sam's words. Could it be that he felt the same way I did? Was this the moment I had been waiting for?

"Y/n, I just wanna be with you," Sam finally confessed, his voice raw with emotion. And in that moment, everything fell into place. It was as if all the pieces of our friendship had been leading to this.

"Sam," I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes. "I've been feeling the same way. I just didn't know how to say it."

Without another word, Sam cupped my face in his hands and brought his lips to mine in a tender, sweet kiss. It was everything I had ever dreamed of and more.

The world fell away as we lost ourselves in each other, finally crossing that invisible line from friends to something deeper, something more. The love that had always been there blossomed into something beautiful and undeniable.

From that moment on, Sam and I were inseparable. Our days were filled with laughter, inside jokes, and stolen glances that spoke volumes without any words.

"I can't believe this is real," I sighed one sunny afternoon as we lounged in Sam's backyard, the smell of fresh-cut grass mingling with his cologne.

Sam wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. "It's as real as it gets, Y/n. You and me, together."

The happiness that bubbled inside me was overwhelming, a warmth that spread from my heart to every corner of my being. Sam was my rock, my partner, my everything.

"I have something to show you," Sam said suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eye. He led me to his garage, where a makeshift painting easel stood in the middle.

"What's this?" I asked, intrigued by the unexpected surprise. Sam had always been full of surprises, but this was a new level of creativity.

"Close your eyes," Sam instructed, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. I obeyed, feeling a mix of anticipation and excitement building inside me.

When Sam finally allowed me to open my eyes, I gasped in awe at the sight before me. On the canvas was a painting of us, laughing under a cherry blossom tree, the colors vibrant and alive.

"Sam, this is amazing," I breathed, feeling a surge of emotion well up inside me. His talent never failed to impress me, but this was different. It was us, immortalized in a moment of pure joy.

Sam wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I wanted to capture our love, our happiness, in a way that words never could."

And in that moment, as we stood surrounded by the beauty of his creation, I knew that Sam was more than just my best friend. He was my soulmate, my true love.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, our love only grew stronger. We faced challenges together, laughed together, and found solace in each other's arms.

"I can't imagine my life without you, Y/n," Sam whispered one night as we lay tangled in bedsheets, the silver moonlight casting a soft glow over our entwined bodies.

I pressed a kiss to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my lips. "I never want to be without you, Sam. You're my everything."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

Please do NOT repost/copy my writing without asking first and getting permission from me. (Reblogs are fine and are incredibly appreciated!)

#nfl imagine #nfl #bengals #bengals imagine #cincinnati bengals imagines #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction #nfl rpf #rpf #sam hubbard fanfic #sam hubbard #sam hubbard x reader

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strawberry-cowmilk · 9 months

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the last day of summer

-> asmodeus x mc (romantic or platonic though maybe a little more hinted towards romantic)

-> your last day of summer didn't go as planned

a/n: based on a real experience that happened to me today (heartbreaking) and decided to use it as inspiration for writing (my creativity is at its limit help me help me) also I realised I kinda messed up halfway through writing this but let's just pretend like the devildom has sun

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: mc has certain personality traits like enjoying warm weather, mc wears nail polish, hand holding

-----

Summer was ending, any warm day could be the last before you'd have to wait some long months before the weather is sunny and warm again. Before you went to bed, Asmo sent you a screenshot of today's weather forecast. Your relationship has come to the point where he could literally send you a screenshot of the weather app saying 'high chance of sun and warm temperatures' and you'd know what it meant: you're skipping the RAD lectures tomorrow, you're going to spend the potential last day of summer outside. Lucifer can get mad later.

The day was supposed to be a perfect end to a good summer. You and Asmo, dressed in light clothing, were going to spend the day outside at the mall in open air and the beach. When you two left the house, the weather was already nice and warm. Not a single cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze in the air. To get to the mall though, you'd have to take the subway. Of course Asmo suggested you'd get fancy drinks at the coffee place to take with you on the ride. Everything was so perfect: the subway was quiet, the weather was amazing, the drinks were good, your outfits look perfect and none of you had recieved any angry texts or calls from Lucifer demanding to know where you are. Little did you know there would be a nice surprise waiting for you after getting off the subway.

'This is a joke.' Asmo said as he stared at the sky with wide eyes from surprise. 'It's cold too.' you added, regretting not taking an 'emergency jacket' with you. Somehow, while you were on the subway, the sun had evaporated, there wasn't a single speck of blue to be seen in the sky and there's cold, pretty strong wind, great weather for the beach. 'Let's look on the positive side, we now have an excuse to buy matching sweaters.' the lust demon suggested. You let out a little laugh before thinking about what to do, maybe you should just make the best of it.

You and Asmo just ate something at the mall before returning home after an hour of being there. And guess how the weather was when you got off the subway again? It was literally back to how it was before. What a joke. To enjoy the sun anyways, you and Asmo just decided to take a walk instead.

'Hey, Mc?' you turned your head to look at the demon next to you. He smiled at you and held out his hand, asking you to take it. How could you refuse when he was looking at you like that? Asmo held your hand contently and tightly while walking with you. Eventually he started speaking again. 'You know, I'm really glad we met.' He gave your hand a little squeeze. 'I don't know where I'd be or what I'd be doing if I didn't have my favorite human here.' You glanced over at him before focusing your eyes on your hand clutched in his and smiled. 'Yeah, I'm glad we met too.' Maybe knowing that summer's ending is making you feel a little extra sentimental right now, or maybe it's Asmo but you're feeling something you can't quite describe. It's like a genuine caring for someone, and you're pretty sure the avatar of lust is feeling it too.

'Oh, Mc your nail polish is chipping... I'm gonna have to redo them when we get home, okay?'

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me swd #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #asmodeus obey me #obey me asmo #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x mc #gn!mc

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acacia-may · 5 months

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In Your Eyes (Kelbrey Feelings Realization Fic)

“Kel froze. His eyes widened—heart racing so loud he could hear it pounding in his ears which had turned red at the sight of her. His hands trembled. His breath caught in his throat as he met her eyes. Her brown eyes.”

When Aubrey gets something stuck in her eye during a game of poker at a college party hosted by Hero’s fraternity, Kel has a realization that has been a long time coming…

Kelbrey-Centric Slice of Life, Feelings Realization, and Developing Romance several years Post-Good Ending with a side of Hero & Kel's brotherly love and support. Also, (briefly) feat. Hero actually being happy with his goofy college friends (and some hints at Hero/OC), Sunny the poker champion, and Basil wishing everyone would just play Crazy Eights.

Relationships: KELBREY (Romantic Kel x Aubrey) CENTRIC. Kel & Hero's brotherly bond is also included & important, as well as Aubrey, Basil, Hero Kel, & Sunny Friendship. Some (Minor) Hero & His College Friends (OCs) Friendship and Some (Potential?) Hero x OC. Past Romantic Hero x Mari is referenced.

Word Count: 9,110

Rating: T for some language, mentions of drinking, and sequences of partying.

Warnings: Major Spoilers for OMORI! A brief sequence of legal drinking. Some language. Some partying. Characters playing footsie. Characters playing poker. An almost kiss. Please see AO3 for additional tags.

Link to original post on AO3. Full Text Below the Cut.

A/N: This story is dedicated to my youngest sister who doesn’t know anything about OMORI but knows a lot about contact lenses. ^^

Thank you for reading!! 🧡🩷

Kel frowned at his cards. He had been having rotten luck all night and had the smallest pile of individually wrapped candies turned poker chips in front of him. Kel sighed. It probably would have been a little bit bigger if he hadn’t kept eating them.

As he absentmindedly plopped a taffy in his mouth, Aubrey glared at him with icy teal eyes. “Those are your chips, Kel.”

Kel shrugged. “Eh, I can spare a couple.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Aubrey blinked at him and his dwindling pile of candies even more pathetically puny next to the elaborate castle Sunny had been building out of the many, many he had collected throughout the course of the game. They should have known he would be virtually unbeatable at poker, but for her credit, Aubrey seemed to be doing fairly well for herself too with a modest stack of caramels in front of her. Basil would probably be doing better if he stopped folding every round, even when he had a good hand, but even he had more ‘chips’ than Kel, probably because he didn’t keep eating them.

Kel shrugged, then ate another taffy with a satisfied smack of his lips. He didn’t think it mattered much, seeing as he wasn’t going to win anyway, but Aubrey huffed—a long piece of pink hair falling into her face as she rolled her eyes, kicking him under the table. Chuckling, he playfully kicked her back. It clearly wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting. Pushing her hair out of her face, she tilted her head at him with a scowl, then kicked him again a little harder this time, but he just laughed, delighted by that twitch in the corners of her mouth she had tried to hide. He wondered if he could get her to actually smile—not always the easiest feat in the world with Aubrey, especially when she was annoyed like this.

Sunny dropped a piece of taffy in the center of the table—stone-faced and unreadable as usual, a truly unfair power in a poker game, and Kel picked one of his own up—appearing to follow suit until he plopped it into his mouth.

“Kel!” Aubrey huffed.

“I’m hungry,” he insisted with a smack of his lips as he chewed the taffy.

“Then have Hero make you a sandwich and stop eating your poker chips.”

With a sigh, Kel glanced off over Aubrey’s shoulder at his brother, hard at work in the kitchen as he generally was whenever his fraternity hosted a party. Hero had been nice enough to invite them along to this one, provided none of them drink anything that didn’t come out of a can or bottle clearly marked as “non-alcoholic,” since unlike Hero and most of his friends they weren’t of legal drinking age yet and Hero had warned them repeatedly that it was far too easy to accidentally get wasted, especially when you’re not used to it. Whether he knew that from personal experience or not, Kel wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think it was his place to ask. As far as he knew, Hero didn’t drink, even though he had legally been able to for the past few months, and Kel noticed that for the whole evening, he had been sipping a mug of hot tea rather than anything boozy…but, Kel supposed, that could have been because he had wanted to keep a watchful, sober eye on them. Always the responsible big brother, he had been checking in with them periodically all evening to make sure they were okay and to see if they needed anything even though he was busy taking care of party guests and making sure things didn’t get too rowdy and out of hand, like a “Mama” his roommate, the party’s host, had somewhat teasingly insisted.

Hero had politely opted not to play poker with them, however,—whether because he wanted to keep making sandwiches or because his group of college friends had teased him that he couldn’t lie well enough to last five minutes in a poker tournament had yet to be seen. Hero’s friends, for their credit, had seemingly tried to make up for it by playing in his place, however. Brandi and her boyfriend, C.J., made it through a couple rounds before getting called away to watch Hero’s roommate try to use a beer bong while standing on his head, which Hero had politely insisted Kel and their friends skip out on. Music major Tamra played five rounds mostly spent comforting Basil when he panicked and accidentally bet 7 Charleston Chews before realizing he had forgotten to look at his cards, and Kel had spent at least ten minutes trying to teach the bubbly Lorraine how to play before she finally decided she’d rather just sing Spice Girls karaoke with her sorority sisters. Out of Hero’s closest friends, at least the ones Kel knew of, only two hadn’t played: Hero’s roommate, Kyle, who was absolutely plastered after that thing with the beer bong, and spunky engineering major, Zoey, who had offered to keep Hero company in the kitchen so he wouldn’t feel so left out.

Glancing over at his brother now, Kel couldn’t help but think Hero didn’t seem to mind being left out at all now that he was busy cooking, chatting, and laughing with one of his best friends. Kel couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but he watched Zoey’s mouth curve into a dry, somewhat lopsided smile as she poked Hero in the chest with a spatula and Hero’s smile actually managed to reach his eyes as he laughed so loudly it caught the attention of everyone at the table.

They all blinked—wide-eyed at the rare occurrence of actual Hero happiness: a true unicorn over the past several years though not completely impossible anymore especially when he was with his college friends and, they had all noticed, this one in particular. Almost on some kind of unspoken cue, the whole table shared a glance at each other as if to acknowledge how much they were all indebted to the young lady and not just because she had helped Sunny build a trebuchet for his physics project, found the missing lens cap from Basil’s camera, invited Aubrey to stay with her during her college visit, and always let Kel call her whenever he was stuck on his math homework.

Aubrey cleared her throat—reminding them to quickly turn back to their cards before Hero caught them staring. He likely would have been mortified, but Kel knew none of them had been trying to pry, they were all just glad to see him enjoying the company of his friends and smiling again. It had been a very long time.

“On second thought, don’t bother him,” mumbled Aubrey though an affectionate smile tugged at her mouth. Sunny nodded in emphatic agreement, even handing Kel some of the candies from the palace he had been building.

Kel stifled a chuckle but shook his head. “Thanks, Sunny, but I’ll just eat later.” Staring back down at his cards, Kel hummed. “And I’ll raise you two licorices.”

“How much did we say a licorice is again?” asked Basil with a weary sigh.

“I think two licorices equals one caramel, and two caramels equal a taffy,” explained Aubrey rubbing her eyes.

Basil nodded, then sighed again. “Okay…I fold.”

“You know you don’t have to fold every time,” Kel teased with a good-natured chuckle. He glanced over at Aubrey, meeting her teal eyes—distant and a little exasperated but not unkind. Even so, she jabbed at him with her foot again before she reached for her own pile of candies.

As Aubrey thoughtfully hummed at her cards, Kel playfully poked her with his foot under the table again. Not even blinking or looking up from her hand—she jabbed back at him then he poked at her, and back and forth they went, hopefully, unnoticed by their friends. Finally, she dropped a handful of candy into the center pile meeting Kel’s eyes, the corners of her lips twitching again. As a smile began to spread across his own face, he ran his foot across her ankle, then without thinking, up the side of her calf. A yelp caught in the back of Aubrey’s throat—startling Sunny and Basil, and Kel stopped abruptly watching the bright red spots appearing between her indignant frown.

His own face grew warm. He had just been playing around and hadn’t been thinking, certainly hadn’t been intending to play footsie with her, even though, if he was being honest, it was kind of nice. Something swooped in his stomach as he was suddenly struck by the thought of Aubrey running her foot up his leg, instead of the other way around...

That blush in his face deepened, and he cleared his throat. He didn’t know where that thought had come from, honestly.

He reached for another piece of candy.

“Seriously?” Aubrey huffed, rolling her eyes at him again—that usual pale pallor returning to her face as Sunny met her bet. Kel tried his best to quiet that fluttery sensation in his stomach by turning back to his cards.

For a split second, he had actually forgotten he didn’t have anything in his hand. Even so, he exclaimed, “I’m going all in!”

Kel had always liked that phrase: “all in.” He supposed he was an “all in” kind of person—jumping into things with wholehearted enthusiasm, oftentimes without thinking. In a way, he guessed, that was a good thing sometimes—like when he dragged Sunny out of his house or pestered his brother into taking much needed breaks from constant studying, but it probably wasn’t the best when he was trying to play poker and annoying his friends by going “all in” with whole hands of nothing. Still, he shoved his remaining candies into the middle of the table.

Aubrey snickered. “What will you have to eat now?”

Before he could banter back, however, his stomach growled, loudly. He probably should grab something to eat beyond just his “poker chips.”

“Here, Scotty. Sounds like you need it more than me.” A plate with a hot sandwich on it appeared next to him on the table. Kel didn’t need to turn around to know who had put it there: Hero’s friend Zoey was the only person in the world who called him “Scotty,” a reference to his penchant for fixing things as far as he understood it.

“Thanks, but I can’t take your food,” Kel insisted as Hero ran up beside them, wiping his hands across his apron.

“Kel’s right,” he gently interrupted, patting Kel’s shoulder before quickly turning from him to Zoey. “I can make him something. You don’t have to give him yours.”

Zoey quirked an eyebrow at him. “Your poor brother is practically starving over here,” she quipped in a dry, matter-of-fact voice. “And it looks like Sunny is wiping the floor with him. He deserves a sandwich.” She tilted her head towards Kel but met Hero’s dark eyes with her teasing green ones, just for a moment. Hero turned away, clearing his throat, and she turned to Sunny, with a bright smile, “Nice castle, by the way.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Sunny as a smile tugged at his mouth. “But…it’s having trouble staying up…”

As she tucked a piece of short, red hair behind her ear, Zoey’s brow furrowed, but her mouth twitched in its corners. “You want some help with that?” she asked, and Sunny nodded. “A stronger foundation should fix the problem, and you have plenty of candies to build a bigger base.” She paused, chuckling lightly. “Remind me never to play poker against you. We’ll just have to stick to crazy eights.”

“I’d like to play crazy eights,” sighed Basil. “Poker is stressing me out.”

“Everything stresses you out,” huffed Aubrey with an affectionate smile as she rubbed her eye. Basil chuckled lightly, somewhat helplessly as Hero gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“I prefer crazy eights too,” he admitted with a sigh and a gentle smile before turning back to his brother. “Kel, please don’t eat Zoey’s sandwich. What would you like me to make for you? And does anyone else want anything?”

Aubrey, Basil, and Sunny all shook their heads, but Kel hummed thoughtfully, “I’ll just have something easy to make like ham and cheese. Or just some chips or something if you’re too tired. You’ve been cooking all night.”

“It’s fine. It’s actually…”—Hero’s face softened—“kind of fun. I’m usually so busy studying I don’t get to cook as much anymore, so it’s nice to have the opportunity.” He paused then sighed. “Sorry I haven’t been around much tonight though. It’s been kind of crazy around here, but after I finish cooking for you guys, maybe we can all play together.”

“You’re just saying that because they’re switching to crazy eights,” teased Zoey as she helped Sunny arrange his squares of caramels into a wide base for his castle.

Hero chuckled lightly but gently insisted, “I would have played poker too. Whatever you want.”

“Crazy eights is fine,” said Aubrey, still rubbing her eye. “Kel’s out of poker chips anyway.” Aubrey huffed, blinking rapidly and pulling on her eyelid with her finger. Her eye started to water.

“Are you okay?” asked Kel reaching out a hand to her, but she jerked away from him.

“Yeah, I think I just got something in my eye.” She blinked again with a disgruntled groan.

“I have eyedrops in a first aid kit upstairs if that’ll help,” said Hero. “I’ll go get them.”

“No, I can do that.” Kel stopped, realizing what he had said only after he had said it. “I mean…I wouldn’t want you to have to leave everybody and you’re so busy hosting.”

“It’s no trouble,” Hero insisted. “But if you want to get the first aid kit, you can, Kel. It’s in the lower right drawer of my desk.”

“That’s okay,” interjected Aubrey. “I don’t think I need a first aid kit or anything. Whatever it is, it’s stuck up under my contact lens, so I’ll probably just have to take it out. My bag’s upstairs I think.”

As Aubrey stumbled to her feet, Kel followed. He and Hero both opened their mouths, about to say something when the slurred voice of Hero’s roommate Kyle called from across the room, “Mama! Mama!”

“Just a second,” Hero called back, but Kyle yelled again—a slurred and drawn-out whine.

“Heroooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Hero let out a long heavy sigh. “Yes? Is everything okay?”

“Come here! Tamra’s gonna play a song for you.”

“I’ve been working on this transcription project, I think you’re really going to like it,” Tamra’s voice called from her seat at an old, chipped piano on the back wall of the busy living room.

“And we’re all going to sing,” giggled Lorraine.

“That’s really nice, but um…can you wait a couple minutes?” asked Hero.

There were teasing, playful groans before Zoey called, “Hold on, you big babies. He’s in the middle of something.”

“Unless someone’s dying or he’s making out with you, it can wait!” Kyle yelled then cracked himself up in raucous laughter. Given the bright red hue of his brother’s face, Kel felt bad for laughing a little himself, even though he tried his best to stifle it. It seemed Brandi and her boyfriend were trying and failing to do the same—laughing behind their hands as they curled up next to each other on the couch. Sunny and Basil were both blushing—probably from second-hand embarrassment for Hero’s sake, and Aubrey rolled her eyes before rubbing them again.

Hero pressed his palm to his forehead muttering something about being “so sorry.” Zoey, however, seemed annoyed but unsurprised as she got up from her seat at the table then walked over to lightly smack Kyle on the back of the head. “You’re such an ass sometimes, ‘Drunk Kyle.’”

“But you still love me. I know you love me, Zuzu…” Kyle cooed in a bantering melodrama, blowing kisses at her until she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t push your luck.”

Still red in the face, Hero sighed heavily, turning to explain to the table in stumbly, nervous words, “We’re not—! I’ve never…It’s not like that.” Hero took a deep breath before rambling very quickly, “We’re just friends, and Kyle’s known Zoey forever and just says…really weird and uncomfortable things when he’s drunk…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Kel shrugged his shoulders with a reassuringly dismissive wave, but he bit his lip—trying his best to choose his words carefully for once in his life. He knew his brother would hate to hear him say it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Hero was fragile, especially when it came to something sensitive like this. He couldn’t tell if he was so flustered because he was actually, secretly attracted to this girl or because he was worried that everyone would be upset if they thought he was or because he was still so devoted to Mari that he was sickened by the idea of anyone thinking he had even noticed another woman. Or maybe it was just Hero’s shy personality and dislike for being the center of attention?

Kel’s head ached. He didn’t usually read this much into things, but he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He had accidentally broken his brother once before, and he didn’t want to do that ever again.

“It’s okay,” said Sunny with an emphatic nod, pulling Kel’s attention out of his thoughts. It was a shock to say the least. Even Aubrey stopped fidgeting with her eye for a second to blink at him. Kel wracked his brain and tried to think of a time when Sunny had managed to have something to say while the rest of them were speechless. It was very possible that had never happened before, but Kel was extremely grateful that it had now.

Trying his best not to look too shocked, Hero stumbled a, “Thank you, Sunny.” He cleared his throat, then turned back to Aubrey. “Anyways…Aubrey…let’s get you—” He stopped as Aubrey reached out a hand to pat him on the shoulder, cutting him off.

“Hero, I’m fine. Go hang out with your friends.”

“Yeah, I’ll help Aubrey with the first aid kit and everything, and we’ll be right back,” Kel insisted with a reassuring smile, grateful to have something to do to help that didn’t depend on him saying the right thing. Honestly, with the way he tended to just say whatever popped into his head, he just didn’t trust himself not to make everything worse for Hero anymore.

“Okay…” stumbled Hero, unsurely but he eventually conceded at the cacophonous calls of his friends. “But if you need anything just call okay? If you don’t come back in a few minutes, I’ll come check on you.”

“It’ll be fine,” sighed Kel with an affectionate chuckle. Without thinking he grabbed Aubrey’s hand and started pulling her towards the staircase. By the time they reached the landing, they could hear the distant melodies of the piano and an enthusiastic, if also a little drunk, chorus of Hero’s friends loudly, teasingly belting out, “I can be your Hero, baby!”

Kel laughed. He would have paid to see his brother’s face when his friends started singing that song to him, but as it was now, Aubrey was much more important. Despite still rubbing at her eye, even she managed a chuckle and a somewhat affectionate, “Hero’s friends are such goofs.”

“Yeah…” chuckled Kel. “But I love them. They’ve made Hero so happy. I…really missed that.”

Aubrey sighed, a gentle smile twitching in the corners of her mouth. “Me too.”

As Kel led her down the hallway towards the room Hero shared with Kyle, Aubrey fidgeted then sighed again and asked, “Hey uh…Kel…?”

“Huh?”

She cleared her throat—her voice a little stiff as she answered, “You’re uh…still holding my hand…”

Blinking, Kel stared down at their hands. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding hers. His face flushed. “Oh uh…”—he cleared his throat—“I sorta forgot. Sorry about that…” Letting go of her hand, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly then pushed open the door to Hero’s room. “It’s right here.”

There was something familiar, almost cozy about Hero’s room. In a way, it reminded Kel of the room they had shared back home. The left side of the room was bright and colorful with chaotic clusters of photos and posters on the wall. It was cleaner than Kel generally kept his room, but just as cluttered with books, CDs, school supplies, and bottles of something or other haphazardly strewn across the dresser and desk. Though the bed was made, the duvet was crinkled, wrinkly, and the pillows looked like they had been scooped up and thrown at the headboard in a hurry. Sunny would probably give it a 4 out of 10.

To be perfectly fair, however, it probably would have just looked “lived in” if it wasn’t for the right side of the room: simple with pale, muted colors, but perfectly pristine like something out of a catalog. Nothing was out of place, and there was no clutter to be had: no knickknacks, no mementos, and just three photos in matching gray frames on the desk. Every book, every record, every CD had been carefully placed on the shelf and all office supplies were housed in drawers or an unassuming gray pencil holder. The blue duvet was perfectly smooth with pillows perfectly arranged. Even their coats and bags that had been placed on the bed had been carefully, thoughtfully lined up in a neat order against the wall.

“No guessing which side’s Hero’s, huh?” quipped Aubrey as she climbed over the mattress for her purse. “Always neat as a pin.”

As she began digging through her bag, most likely for the case for her contact lenses, Kel turned towards Hero’s desk to search for the first aid kit. Like everything else belonging to his brother, it was clean, sanitized, boring though Kel felt badly for thinking that. He was happy to see the photos though—the only truly personalized things of Hero’s in the room. One was of him with his group of college friends—laughing together probably at some party just like this one by the look of it. The second was their most recent family photo, and the third was of their group of friends in Faraway Park when they were kids back when Mari had been alive.

Kel’s chest ached. They looked so different back then—especially Aubrey. He glanced over at her now, still digging through her bag, long pink hair rippling down her back rather than the dark brown locks she had sported in that photo and for the majority of her life. Her eyes were different too—an icy teal now from her colored contacts. That reminded him…he had better start looking for those eyedrops.

As he pulled open the bottom left drawer of Hero’s desk, he paused—blinking in surprise.

“Woah!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself.

“What?” asked Aubrey.

“This drawer is a mess,” he mumbled, so stunned he wasn’t even able to look up at her. In an entire lifetime of knowing Hero, Kel had never known anything of his brother’s to be a mess. He sighed and supposed that there really was a first time for everything. Kel’s brow furrowed as he began sifting through odds and ends—a whole junk drawer of papers, notebooks, books, a couple CDs, even some receipts, a few pictures, and who even knew what else. “There’s all kinds of crap in here…”

Aubrey snorted a partially stifled laugh. “I didn’t know Hero could make a mess.”

“Me neither,” quipped Kel, pushing some of the papers around looking for anything resembling a first aid kit.

“Hey uh…” She sighed. “Speaking of Hero…do you think he’s…”—she paused as if trying to think of the right word—“worried that we’d all be upset if he…if he was, you know—dating again?”

Kel stopped, but he sighed heavily. He had just been wondering the same thing after all. He shrugged his shoulders—focusing his attention on digging through the desk drawer, but he answered, “I think Hero worries about a lot of things he doesn’t have to worry about.”

“I just wouldn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t put himself back out there, you know… because of what we’d think or because he’s scared we’d be upset or think he was disrespecting Mari…” Her voice trailed. “I wish there was a way we could tell him that we’d all be happy…without it sounding like we were prying or making assumptions.”

Kel nodded, but let out a heavy, somewhat helpless sigh. “Don’t look at me. I’d probably just say the wrong thing,” he chuckled, self-deprecatingly—rubbing his hand across the nape of his neck.

“Kel…” Aubrey’s tone softened, but he didn’t look up at her, instead choosing to quickly shrug it off and change directions.

“Besides he says he’s not interested in having that kind of relationship anymore anyway, so he probably just isn’t—no matter what we’d think about it. You know how Hero is. He’s been…”—he paused, unable to think of the right word—“really weird about that kind of thing ever since Mari died. I just…I don’t know if he’ll ever want that again…”

As Kel continued rifling through the drawer, Aubrey sighed. “I know…and I understand that. I wasn’t suggesting we push him or anything I just…didn’t want to be part of whatever was holding him back.” She paused, sighing again. “He looked so happy, and…I really like her.”

“Me too. I’m pretty sure she’s the only reason I’m not failing math right now,” Kel bantered with a laugh before his face softened. He knew he didn’t have to say the rest—didn’t have to say how much he loved her for being such a good friend to Hero, for always studying with him or going on runs with him at the crack of dawn, for helping him do the dishes at their college parties or talking to him about his favorite foods or favorite kinds of music, for being that lone voice of reason in Hero’s somewhat chaotic group of college friends, for making him laugh and smile, and, most of all, for bringing something out in him that they had never imagined they’d get to see again.

“But it’s really not like that,” Kel added, though he wasn’t sure if was reminding himself or reminding Aubrey. “They both swear they’re just friends, and I believe them. I mean, I wish…Maybe someday, but I just—it’s Hero. I don’t know if he’s ever gonna be ready for it.” Kel stopped with a heavy sigh—brow furrowing as he pushed some of the papers around in Hero’s messy desk drawer. “I mean…he’s got a bunch of books about widowers in here…”

“Kel, don’t snoop through Hero’s stuff,” Aubrey scolded with a huff.

Kel’s face flushed, but he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not trying to. It’s just such a mess in here. There’s papers everywhere and notebooks and books and CDs and…ooh! A present!” Curiously if also a little impulsively, Kel picked up a small, wrapped box tied with a red ribbon. “It’s heavy. I bet it’s jewelry.”

“Kel! Stop snooping,” Aubrey snapped at him. He fumbled around with the box before placing it back in the drawer.

“Look, I’m not being nosy. I’m just looking for the first aid kit. It’s not in here.”

Aubrey huffed. “You’re looking in the wrong drawer. Hero said lower right not lower left.”

Kel took a step back to stare at the desk—tilting his head. “Okay but…my right or the desk’s right?”

“Just check the other drawer!”

Kel closed the messy drawer then opened its identical twin on the other side of the desk—nearly empty except for a neat stack of blank notebook paper, a metal pencil case, and a first aid kit. “Found it!” he declared triumphantly—ignoring the way Aubrey was shaking her head at him. Snapping the clasp of the first aid kit open, he sat the case on the desk and rifled through it for the eye drops. “Here…” he said, turning to Aubrey.

She looked up from her bag and turned to stare at him as she reached for the bottle of eye drops with a muttered, “Thanks.”

Kel froze. His eyes widened—heart racing so loud he could hear it pounding in his ears which had turned red at the sight of her. His hands trembled. His breath caught in his throat as he met her eyes. Her brown eyes.

Kel had nothing against Aubrey’s colored contacts. Her teal eyes certainly were pretty—even if he’d probably never tell her that, but there was something icy, something cold and distant in them. Her real eyes were warm, inviting—cozy like the gentle glow of a candle. The light reflected off of swirls of golden brown in them as they glimmered and sparked like a crackling fire, and Kel found himself suddenly taken back to happier days: to making flower crowns, buildings sandcastles, jumping through puddles, having picnics, and watching sunsets. But there was something more in them than just treasured memories—something that made a swooping sensation twist in the pit of his stomach, made him feel dizzy and seasick but deliriously happy. Something that left him wonderstruck, left his mind empty— hazy and bare except for the words that ached in the deepest part of his heart: So beautiful…

“Kel? Are you okay?”

Aubrey’s stiff and awkward voice drew him out of his thoughts. He caught sight of the pink blush in her cheeks, and his face burned. He was staring at her, and she had noticed.

He opened his mouth to say something in response but found that possibly for the first time in his life he didn’t have any words. “You—your eyes…”

Aubrey’s cheeks turned an even deeper red, but she shrugged her shoulders brusquely. “Yeah…they’re kind of red and irritated. But that’s because I got something in them.”

Kel’s brow furrowed in confusion. Tilting his head at her, he finally noticed the streaks of red irritation in her eyes and the tears caught in her long eyelashes. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before—too mesmerized by her warm, dark eyes to see much of anything else, he supposed.

Something swooped in the pit of his stomach as she met his eyes briefly before turning away again, adding stiffly, “I haven’t been crying or anything…”

“Right…uh…,” he stumbled over his words, fumbling around with the eye drops until he finally handed them to her. “Here.”

Aubrey nodded—carefully pouring the drops in her eyes. As she stared up at the ceiling, Kel took a seat next to her on the side of the bed—sinking into the soft mattress and fluffy duvet with a satisfying creak. Sunny was right this bed really was a 9 out of 10, perfect for Hero. Kel tried his best to focus on the squishy foam of the mattress or the comfort of the bed linens or anything—literally anything else besides the way he felt every time Aubrey looked at him with those wide, dark eyes.

After a few moments of silence, Aubrey finally blinked the eyedrops away, the watery mess spilling down her cheeks. As she wiped her eyes, she reached for her contact lens case again. “I think that got it. I’ll just put these back in—”

“Do you have to?” He hadn’t realized he had interrupted her until her brow furrowed at him. The tips of his ears burned as Aubrey blinked at him.

“Um…Yeah.”

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could even think to stop it.

Aubrey frowned—though she looked more confused than irritated. “Because I can’t see without them.”

“Oh,” Kel’s voice hitched before he cleared his throat. “I guess I didn’t realize they were prescription.”

“Yeah…I wouldn’t have paid for them otherwise. Contacts are expensive.”

Kel tilted his head at her. “But why the colored ones?”

“I guess I just thought they’d be fun—pretty…” Aubrey shrugged. “Why?”

Kel flushed again, but he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I just wondered if you ever thought about getting just regular contacts.”

“I mean I guess…But I don’t think it makes much of a difference, does it?”

“I guess not,” sighed Kel. “But you have such pretty eyes it’d be nice to see them every now and again.”

Aubrey’s face turned as pink as her hair, and Kel let out a long, heavy sigh. He had spoken without thinking again. It was going to be the death of him one of these days.

Before he could say anything more though, Aubrey frowned and elbowed him with a bristly huff. “Knock it off, Kel.”

“I wasn’t kidding around,” Kel insisted, but Aubrey didn’t seem to hear him or at least didn’t seem to acknowledge his protests as she continued.

“First you try to play footsie with me. Now you’re complimenting my eyes. It’s”—she glared at him, but her voice hitched—“it’s not funny.”

“I didn’t mean to play footsie with you—I was just goofing around and…”

“Well, it was weird,” Aubrey interrupted him, crossing her arms with a huff.

“It wasn’t that weird,” he insisted, but he fidgeted with nervous energy—bumping into her legs as they dangled from the side of the bed. Her eyes narrowed, but she kicked at him with her feet. Then with a lopsided twitch of her mouth, she ran her feet over his ankles—then up and down his calf. Kel bit down hard on his lip. Was she doing this on purpose—trying to get back at him for playing footsie with her earlier?

A startled yelp got garbled in the back of his throat as she nudged her foot against his knee. Red in the face after a long, wavering breath, he somehow miraculously managed a stumbly laugh and teasingly conceded, “Okay…okay you win, princess. It was weird, sorry—is that what you wanna hear?”

“Yes.” A somewhat smug smile twitched in the corners of Aubrey’s mouth, but her face was flushed. “It was weird. I mean, if we were dating then maybe, but—” she stopped abruptly, eyes widening at him.

Kel could feel his face burning and could only imagine how red he must look to Aubrey. Dating? He swallowed hard. Hearing her even mention it made his stomach backflip.

A question tugged at his mind and slipped out of his mouth before he could even think to stop it, “If we were dating, would you wear regular contacts sometimes if I asked?”

The blush in Aubrey’s cheeks deepened, but she bristled. “You and those contacts…” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “What’s up with that? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like them.”

“What? No! Uh…they’re great.” Kel’s ears burned as he scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just…what I said about your real eyes—it wasn’t a joke.”

Aubrey’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“They really are pretty,” he admitted with a sincere, somewhat helpless smile. “I…had honestly kind of forgotten what they looked like and I just…I guess I—” He stopped, his mind going blank as her eyes met his again.

Her eyes. Kel could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as they held his gaze. So beautiful…

He swallowed hard—trying to calm his pounding heartbeat and the butterflies erupting in his stomach enough to say, “I missed them.”

Aubrey blinked at him. Her long eyelashes fluttering as her eyes widened. He could hear her inhale sharply—breath getting caught in her throat. “K—Kel…”

She turned away from him abruptly, but he felt her reach out to cover his hand with hers. Jolts of electricity riveted through him and that aching, twisting feeling returned to his stomach, but he couldn’t pry his eyes away from her to look down at their intwined hands on the duvet.

Instead, he could feel himself leaning forward—reaching out his free hand to her and getting lost once again in her eyes. He pushed a long strand of pink hair out of her face with his thumb before running his fingers across her watery cheek before he pressed his lower palm to her jaw—angling it towards him. Kel swallowed hard—his attention finally pulled from her big, dark eyes to her mouth. As he watched her bite her bottom lip, Kel’s stomach backflipped. He ran the end of his tongue across his lips—finding them chapped, still caked with the leftover taste of taffy.

Aubrey licked her own lips as she leaned forward—bracing herself by gripping his knee in her hand. When she was mere inches away from his face, he tilted his head towards her until the tip of his nose brushed up against the side of hers.

With a breathless sigh, he watched as her eyes finally fluttered closed—her long dark eyelashes tickling his skin and her warm breath whispering against his lips. She was so close—so close he could feel her trembling and could hear her wavering gasps of air. So close he could smell the hint of watermelon in her shampoo and could taste the mix of cola and caramel on her breath.

Kel chuckled lightly—his laugh reverberating in his chest. So she had been eating her candy poker chips too… Hypocrite. But the truth was Kel didn’t even mind—how could he? How could he care about anything else in the world when she was only a breath away from him?

Time stopped, and they froze, each seemingly waiting for the moment one of them would finally close that space between them. But the moment never came.

Instead, there was a mortified gasp of “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kel and Aubrey quickly scrambled away from each other red in the face as they turned to find Hero standing in the open doorway—almost equally as red as Kel could only assume they were.

“Oh uh…no you’re not interrupting anything,” he insisted, the words racing out of his mouth as he struggled to catch his breath. “I was just…Aubrey was just…I found those eye drops and…”

In a swift motion, Aubrey gathered her things, stood up from her seat on the bed, and practically sprinted towards the door. “Yeah…I was just about to put my contacts back in. I think I’ll do that in the bathroom. Thanks, Hero.”

His brow furrowing in confusion, Hero could only blink at her as she sped past—her pale cheeks blushing a bright crimson red. She kept her head down, as if she was unable to look at him. “Oh uh…it’s no problem…” he stumbled over his words as she took off down the hallway.

As he turned back towards Kel in confusion, Kel swallowed hard. “I—I can explain…” Truthfully, he didn’t know how he could explain, but he was sure as hell going to try.

“That’s okay,” Hero gently insisted, his blush deepening. “You really don’t need to explain anything to me, Kel.”

“No, seriously,” rambled Kel. “I…Nothing happened. I was just helping her look for those eyedrops, and when I found them, she took her contacts out and her eyes…they were…were…” He scrambled around for the right word before finally deciding on, “brown.”

Hero’s expression softened. “It has been a long time since we’ve seen Aubrey without her contacts in.”

“I was just surprised. I forgot what her eyes looked like, I guess,” shrugged Kel. “I know she needs those contacts to see, but I tried to tell her that maybe she could just get regular contacts too, someday. Since her real eyes…they’re just so—” He stopped abruptly, but he wasn’t sure that mattered. The look on his face surely said everything he couldn’t, and Hero knew it. Kel could tell that he did. Kel sighed heavily—his blush deepening at the knowing look Hero was giving him. Kel frowned as he watched his brother stifle an amused laugh.

Thankfully, Hero didn’t call him out—just reached out to ruffle his hand through his hair with an affectionate, “It’s okay, Kel. It happens to the best of us.”

“Even you?” asked Kel before he could stop himself. Hero’s face flushed pink, but he chuckled lightly with a somewhat sheepish nod.

“Yes, even me,” he admitted with a sigh before his eyes grew misty—wistful. “I think…there are certain people in this world whose eyes are just filled with possibilities. When you look at them, you just know that there’s something more…something beyond what you can even imagine—a life…a future…even if you’re not ready to see it.”

“Wow…that’s deep…” Kel chuckled, watching the gentle smile that tugged at his brother’s mouth.

Somewhat bashfully, Hero scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry…was that too much?”

“Nah, I just…” Kel’s voice trailed, and he shook his head. He was used to this kind of deep, philosophical advice from Hero or, at least, he had been—Hero hadn’t really given advice like this to him in a while. While it was true that Hero was a changed person, probably permanently so, after losing Mari, Kel supposed it was more his fault than anything they didn’t talk to each other the way they used to. Hero was so private Kel was convinced he’d just say the wrong thing or hurt Hero by prying into his business, even if he was worried about him, and he didn’t feel right bugging him for advice with problems which he considered small and petty compared to everything Hero had going on. The truth was he had missed it—missed how intuitive his brother was, how he always seemed to know exactly what to do and what to say, like a real hero. His hero.

Something ached in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around him.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into his shoulder. Kel could feel Hero lurch backward a little in surprise before his shoulders relaxed and he pulled him into a tight hug.

“I missed you too, Kel.” He sighed—rubbing his hand across his back. “We’ll have to make plans for you to visit again or maybe I can start driving home more on the weekends. And summer break is coming up soon so we’ll see each other a lot then…”

Kel’s expression softened as he pressed his chin to Hero’s shoulder. That hadn’t really been what he had meant. But his brother was so earnest. It made him chuckle lightly.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy with classes and med school applications and everything,” Hero continued with a guilty deep breath. “But I always have time for you. I know I’m a little far away from home now, but you can always call me. I’m not sure I’ll have much advice for you, but I’ll always be here.”

As he pulled away from his brother, Kel shrugged. “No, that was good advice.” Amazing, almost superhumanly relevant advice actually, but he wasn’t ready to tell Hero that.

Hero smiled. “I’m glad. Just hang in there, okay? There’s no need to rush into anything. You’ve got time to sort out your feelings.” He gently ruffled his hair before turning to open the messy drawer of his desk. “In the meantime, why don’t you take this?”

He pulled out a CD, and Kel’s brow furrowed. “Peter Gabriel?”

Hero chuckled. “There’s a song on there called ‘In Your Eyes.’ I think you’ll really like it.”

Kel tried his best to frown at his dry teasing, but a smile tugged at his mouth in spite of himself. If he was being honest, he supposed he had even missed that too—at least a little bit. He twisted the plastic case in his hands.

“I’m not sure I should take this. I mean it came out of your messy junk drawer…”

Hero’s face flushed, but he scratched his neck with a sheepish, “Yeah I really need to organize it.” He stopped and tilted his head. “How’d you know?”

“I wasn’t trying to snoop through your stuff,” Kel explained hurriedly. “I was just looking for the first aid kit, and I opened the wrong drawer but I didn’t know it was the wrong drawer so—”

“It’s okay, Kel.” Hero gently patted him on the arm. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

“You’re hiding a present in there,” Kel teased with a bright, crooked smile.

Running a hand through his hair, Hero blushed, but he cleared his throat. “Oh…uh…yeah…I guess there’s that...”

“What is it? What is it?” teased Kel, poking him in the arm.

“It’s…uh…” The blush in Hero’s cheeks deepened, and he turned away from him, watching his shuffling feet on the rug. “A necklace.” Kel’s grin widened, and he puffed out his chest with pride, a bit smug at having guessed it was jewelry after all. He’d have to tell Aubrey.

Kel’s face grew hot at the thought of her—at the thought of how she had playfully grazed his legs with her feet, how she had leaned in so close to him and, could he even believe it, had almost kissed him, and most of all how she stared up at him with those warm, dark eyes...

“So ‘In Your Eyes’ huh?” shrugged Kel, flipping the CD case over in his hands.

Nodding, Hero hummed. “It’s a great song.”

“Are you sure you won’t miss it?”

Hero laughed, but his face flushed. “I uh…I’ve been listening to other things recently.”

“Yeah, Mama here can’t get enough of that Piano Man guy…” chortled Kyle—his speech slurred but enthusiastic as he stumbled through the doorway and draped his arms around Hero, practically hanging off of him.

“Billy Joel,” Hero explained but whether to his roommate or to Kel, Kel wasn’t entirely sure.

“He hasn’t been listening to ‘Piano Man’ though…it’s some other song…” Kyle’s voice trailed as he took a swig of whatever was in his cup then he sang, enthusiastically but off-key, “‘She’s got a way about her…’ Something…something…”—he sighed—“I don’t know all the words but it keeps getting stuck in my head since Mama won’t stop listening to it.”

“Sorry, Kyle,” mumbled Hero, his face surprisingly red, as Kyle teasingly patted him on the head.

“Nah, it’s cool, man,” he said with a laugh that made his blonde curtain bangs fall into his eyes. “But seriously, where have you been? I had to come up here to make sure you weren’t dead or didn’t jump outta window or something…”

As Kyle laughed, Hero glanced at Kel with a kind smile that said he could keep a secret. “I was lending this CD to my brother. I’ll be right down.”

“Ooh what CD?” Kyle peered over the plastic case in Kel’s hands—tottering until Hero steadied him.

“Hero wants me to listen to some song called ‘In Your Eyes,’” Kel chuckled, teasingly rolling his eyes at his brother.

Kyle blinked at him for a long time—blankly as if waiting for the words to register, but then he laughed and started his slurred singing again, “‘In your eyes…I see the doorway…to a thousand churches…’”

Kel’s eyes widened, and his face grew hot again. He shook his head. No way… He must have misheard…

But Hero gently bantered, “That was beautiful, Kyle,” as he steadied his roommate on his feet “but you’re ‘karaoke drunk.’ Let’s get you some water and something to eat.”

“Is that…really a line in the song?” asked Kel, curiosity getting the best of them as they headed towards the door. He tried his best to frown, rather than laugh, but found that too difficult in the face of Hero’s knowing, teasing smile and the light chuckle he tried to hide behind his hand as he practically dragged Kyle out into the hallway.

“Yes,” he admitted—looking far too happy about it for Kel’s taste. Kel huffed and twisted his mouth so he wouldn’t smile in spite of himself. His stupid brother… He should have never told him about that thing with the nail bat.

“That’s not funny…” Kel pouted, playfully, with a huff, but Hero chuckled, clearly begging to differ but too kind to say. He ruffled a hand through Kel’s hair before he propped Kyle up against his side as they made their way down the stairs.

Hero shrugged his shoulders, but gave him one last, teasing look. “I told you, you’d like that song.”

Kel sighed, but his face flushed an even deeper red as Hero mumbled so quietly Kel almost couldn’t hear him. “And who knows…maybe we’ll be seeing more of Aubrey’s eyes pretty soon…”

*-*-*

One Year Later…

“Okay…I will see your taffy and raise you two caramels.” Hero took a deep breath then placed his candy into the center of the table. Kel laughed watching his brother purse his lips together as if trying to force himself to keep a poker face. He supposed that even after a year of periodic poker tournaments, he still couldn’t lie very well. It was something they had in common.

Basil, it seemed, bought it, at least, nervously exclaiming, “I fold!” before throwing his cards on the table with shaking hands.

Aubrey shook her head. “It’s not even your turn, Basil.”

“Oh…right…” he stumbled, a flush of pink in his cheeks. “Never mind.”

“And don’t worry, Hero doesn’t have anything,” Zoey teased dryly with the twitch of a lopsided smile as she absent-mindedly ran the gold chain around her neck through her fingers.

Hero’s face flushed. “Zoey…did you look at my cards?”

“No, I looked at your face,” she quipped, picking up a piece of taffy. As she placed it at the top of her candy pyramid, she added with a certain friendly affection, “You’re too sincere.”

Hero sighed, but his face turned red as he folded his hands over his cards, and Kel burst into laughter, somewhat in spite of himself.

Kyle, still and they often joked possibly forever Hero’s roommate, did the same before he bantered. “Poor Mama can’t lie to save his life.” He paused, laughing again. “But in that case, I’m all in.”

“You only have five pieces of candy, Kyle.” Zoey rolled her eyes—tugging at her necklace before tucking in back into the collar of her sweater, but Kyle just shrugged. He had been not-so-inconspicuously sneaking candies into his mouth the entire game, but Kel couldn’t judge that—he had been doing the same thing after all.

Aubrey had scolded him for it by lightly kicking him under the table, but Kel had just laughed and playfully kicked her back. He was playfully nudging her with his foot now—taking a certain sense of pride in the flush of red that filled her cheeks as he tickled her ankle with his toes.

“Fine. I’ll throw in my watch too. Happy?” With a dramatic wave of his hand, Kyle dropped his candies and his watch into the pot. Sunny looked up from the fortress he had been building with the fortune of candies he had collected throughout the game, as always, and stared at the watch with wide eyes.

“Nice watch,” he mumbled before pushing all of his ‘chips’ in.

Kel laughed but stopped abruptly, a flush of red in his cheeks, as he felt Aubrey’s foot grazing his calf, slowly gliding up and down the side of his leg. Before she reached his knee, he caught her foot with his, intwining their ankles, and she yelped—pulling her leg back to kick him but missed—bumping Sunny instead. He turned towards her with wide eyes but his expression softened as a smile twitched in the corners of his mouth and he nodded at them with a knowing look and a blink-and-you’d-miss-it thumbs up. Aubrey’s blush deepened, and Kel did his best to stifle a chuckle.

Kyle cursed under his breath. “Sunny’s smiling now. He must have something really good. I take it back.”

“You can’t take it back,” Zoey huffed, swatting his hands away from the pile of candy.

“We can always play again. We have plenty of candy…” Hero gently insisted with a slight smile.

“I fold! I fold!” exclaimed Basil far more anxious than Kel felt this low-stakes poker game warranted.

The turn passed to Kel, who stared down at his cards. If he was being honest he had been so distracted he had completely forgotten what he had in his hand. He sighed. It was a whole lot of nothing again. Still…he looked up catching sight of Aubrey and meeting her eyes—her brown eyes. His breath caught in his throat as the light reflected off them, their warm, dark hues so soft, so inviting. So beautiful.

He smiled at her. “I’m all in.”

As he pushed his chips into the center of the table, he winked at Aubrey who frowned though a blush flushed in the corners of her cheeks.

“You have nothing in your hand,” she whispered through her teeth, but he just chuckled, catching her hand and holding it under the table.

He leaned close to her—practically whispering in her ear, “I do now.”

“You’re so corny…” Aubrey rolled her eyes, but the flush in her face and the twitch of a smile in the corners of her mouth was not lost on him. She squeezed his hand, and with a sigh, threw her candies into the pile. “Oh what the hell…I guess I’m all in too…” she sighed, but Kel’s heart jumped as she glanced over him—blinking at him with those warm, dark eyes.

Kel supposed Hero was right. Someone’s eyes could show you something more, something beyond what you could even imagine. When Kel looked into Aubrey’s, he saw a light. A promise. A world. A home. A future.

And as he intertwined his fingers with hers, he knew that whatever that future held for them, he was all in.

#kelbrey #omori baseball #omori baseball bat #kel x aubrey #aubrey x kel #i am so normal about them 🧡🩷#also hero deserves to be happy—thanks for coming to my ted talk #thank you for reading

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americasmarauders · 3 years

Note

What about ....

“i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession

Followed with tentative kisses in the dark

With Jason Todd x reader ❤❤❤❤❤

Lots of love xoxo

did this get completly out of hand? yes, yes it did. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but suddenly I had 12 pages of angst ready to make their way into the world.

I’m so sorry it took so long, elle, life got in my way, but now you have like, 6k+ words to make up for it. I really hope you like it.

warnings: completly unedited, sorry for the typos :))

words: 6,856

masterlist #

Aged 14, sometime in September.

Mason Anderson was the biggest dick she had ever met. He was petty and jealous and he picked on her just because. She just wanted peace, quietly resolving the homework she had spent an entire week working on. The library was empty, safe for a couple of other students when he barged in and robbed her of her papers.

He claimed he needed it more than her, he was the one almost flunking out of the class. She demanded her homework back, but he ran towards the boy’s bathroom with her work. It wasn’t the first time that sullen feeling of despair had been planted on her by Mason Anderson, it still didn’t make it any easier.

She sat in front of the boys bathroom, hugging her knees in an attempt to find comfort. She kept thinking that she could do it again, she had done it once, theoretically it would be faster to do it a second time. Light footsteps echoed through the hall, her eyes found their way to the source of the noise.

Jason Todd was a tiny kid with a big brain and an even bigger heart. He had helped her with English more times than she cared to admit. Sometimes she would see him walking towards the alley near the Academy, holding an extra package of chips to the little kid that stayed there sometimes. She liked Jason Todd, considering him the only alley she had inside the cold walls of the Gotham Academy.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, delicately, sitting beside her. “I thought you were gonna finish Statam’s paper today.”

“Mason Anderson stole it,” her eyes were cast downwards, looking at the seams of the floor with an almost inhuman interest. “He wanted to copy it, and I wouldn’t let him so he decided to flush down the toilet instead.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to her, sitting next to her on the floor.

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, stretching her legs in front of her. “I just,” she sighed, trying to find the words, “I spent one week working on that, and I really needed the grade, you know? But he just didn’t care, he just thought of himself.”

Jason looked at her, softly. His eyes held a certain fire behind them, something she could never really describe what it was. It was entrancing, it calmed the pace of her heart. He didn’t say anything before getting up and marching towards the boys bathroom.

She didn’t hear anything going on inside, her mind imagining all sorts of scenarios where Jason would emerge from the bathroom beaten and defeated, Mason walking out completely victorious, with a shiny top grade Literature paper in hand. Her blood boiled at the image, more so than it did before. She got up from the ground, determined to help Jason win the fight, even if her papers were already down the plumbing.

But the door flung open, her friend walking out calmly, clutching her homework delicately. He offered her a smile, and as the door closed behind Jason she could see Mason on the ground gripping his nose in pain.

“Here,” the papers were completely dry to the touch, her confusion deepening. “He was copyin’ it.”

“I can’t believe you got this back,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought… I thought I'd have to redo it.”

“Nah,” he smiled shyly, “I would’ve helped ya.”

“I can’t really depend on you for everything, Jason,” she replied politely. “It’s not fair.”

“I got your back,” he affirmed, “ya don’t need to worry.”

And it meant the world to her that he did.

Aged 16, October 12th.

Jason Todd and her became friends after the Mason Anderson incident. She didn’t know what Jason had said to him, what had he done, all she knew was that Mason never bothered her again after that.

It was the night of her 16th birthday. It was late, probably past 3 in the morning when Jason carefully landed on the fire escape that led to her bedroom. He carefully carried a small box, wrapped neatly with a blue bow. He had chosen the gift lovingly, his heart warm with her. Jason hadn’t expected her to be such an integral part of his life, but just as quietly as she arrived, she placed herself in his heart permanently. She was his friend, true friend, she didn’t expect anything other than his company and support, something he was glad to provide.

His knuckles lightly grazed her window, making the softest noise. Her shades were partially open, he could see her body lying comfortably on her bed. She moved slightly, her body turning towards the window. Her hands rubbed her eyes delicately, seeing Jason smile awkwardly at her. She got up and dragged her feet towards him, opening her window to him.

“What’re you doing here?” her voice was slurred, intoxicated with sleep.

“You know, you should really lock your windows,” he commented, “Gotham’s a dangerous city.”

“Jay,” she warned, “what’re you doing here? It’s…”she searched for her clock, “fuck, 3 in the morning.”

“It’s your birthday,” he responded clearly, as if it was the most obvious reason why he was on her fire escape, on a cold October night only wearing a light jacket.

She blinked at his blunt response, confused on what to say to him. “You’ll see me tomorrow, Jay, I don’t understand why’d you come all this way just to see me.”

“Because it’s you,” he shrugged, stepping into her bedroom silently. “You really thought I wouldn’t see you on your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. A soft breeze came in through the window sending shivers down her spine. Jason closed the window for her and she sent a silent thank you towards his way. “I thought you wouldn’t bother.”

“Well,” he extended the little box to her. Her fingers brushed on his softly, a shock sent on his skin at the touch, “I couldn’t not see you.”

Her hands hugged the box carefully, hesitant on what to do with what was given to her. “Open it,” he urged her.

She eyed him suspiciously, undoing carefully the blue bow that decorated the gift. Opening the box, a tiny robin pendant next to two tiny stones pendants, an opal and an onyx: her birthstone and his. “Wow,” she breathed out, her heart racing inside her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t feel sleepy anymore. “Jason, this is… You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had,” he stated, his eyes soft and loving, lingering on her more than they should. “You mean a lot to me, darling.”

Her eyes glinted underneath the pale moonlight streaming through the half closed curtains of her room. Jason’s breath hitched quietly at the sight of her, disheveled and sleepy and yet the most perfect person to grace his life. She was at a loss for words for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing how to react. Her eyes trailed frenetically over the pendants, trying to find meaning in those.

“Why a robin?” the inquiry startled Jason. He wasn’t expecting to explain himself, much less explain why he had given her a robin pendant. She had no clue what he did when the night fell, who Bruce actually was and he intended to keep her in the dark about that aspect of his life. She didn’t need to know anyway, and telling her would only put her in danger. That was what Bruce made her believe.

“It reminded me of you,” he answered, simply, his eyes fixated on her angelic face.

It wasn’t untrue. Robins were friendly and protected over, birds that should never be harmed. Jason made sure of that, he had her back, always, and he knew she had his. But mostly, he wanted her to have a piece of him everywhere she went. If something were to happen, he wanted to guarantee he wouldn’t be a footnote in her life. What a magnificent life that would be, he knew.

Her eyes ran on his face, looking for a hint that he wasn’t sincere, that he was just messing with her. The thought was more heartbreaking than she anticipated. She found nothing malicious in his face, in his eyes, and smiled back at him. “Thank you, Jay,” she kissed his cheek delicately, her lips barely brushing his skin. It was enough to send both of them into a frenzy of feelings, a thousand thoughts running through their heads.

“Here,” he extended his hands, his eyes clear and full of emotion for her, “I’ll put it on for you.”

She handed him the box, turning around so he could clasp the hook of the necklace. Jason was considerably smaller than her - she guessed it was because of the years of malnutrition he endured when he lived on the streets - so she sat on her bed to meet his height. His fingers brushed slightly at the back of her neck, sending goosebumps on her body.

It was when she turned to look at him again that she realized that maybe Jason wasn’t just a friend to her. Maybe the interest she had in Jason, or how her heart raced when she saw him for the first time in the day weren’t because he was her friend. Maybe it was because she had decided to love him with all her soul.

Aged 16, April 28th.

It was ironic how sunny it was in Gotham that day. It was like nothing had happened, the world hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be gloomy and sad outside, to match the pain she felt inside.

On the deep green grass of Gotham cemetery, stood her and Jason’s family, listening to a priest preach something meaningless to her. Nothing mattered to her anymore, her friend, best friend, was buried deep into the earth, 6 feet under. She would never get to see him again, hear his laugh, take in his smile. She would never have another birthday with him, give him his favorite books, tell him she loved him. Her eyes were fixed on the fresh dirt lain over his shiny coffin, her hand fidgeting on the robin pendant Jason had gifted mer months before. It wasn’t an open casket, she couldn’t even see him for the last time.

The call was the most confusing moment she had ever gone through. He didn't even tell her he was going after his mom. He didn’t even get to explain that to her. Jason just burst through her window late at night, saying he was leaving Gotham for a few weeks, anger seeping through his pores and contaminating the room. His knuckles were badly bruised, as her fingertips lightly brushed he hissed. She didn’t question him, it didn’t even go through her head. He had said he wanted to find a part of him, and she nodded, wishing him luck.

Looking back, she wished she had begged him to stay, to find that part of him in Gotham, with her away from the perils of foreign bombs. Tears sprouted in her eyes as the thought passed through her head. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t predict a tragedy would have happened. It had become a mantra to her, and sometimes repeating it to herself didn’t help at all.

Bruce Wayne stood next to her, stoic, his face stony. It almost didn’t look like he had lost a son. But she saw how his jaw tensed, how it was similar to when Jason was upset and didn’t want to tell her about it. She could see how broken he was inside, how angry and desperate. She felt that too.

The priest stopped talking and the four people standing on that lawn let out a stuck breath of relief. Jason’s brother approached his Father, walking away from her. She stared at the stone, cold like Jason’s body, with the engrave ‘Jason Todd, beloved son and friend’. It didn’t make justice to what Jason actually was, he was much more than just a son and a friend, but it was what they used to describe him. If Jason had decided what his epitaph would be, surely would be a dramatic quote from Shakespeare.

Her name was called out in a posh british accent and she turned toward the person. What she saw was an older gentleman, holding a black umbrella to protect his baldness from the sun. A thin mustache hung over his upper lip, molded into a sad frown. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. Master Jason talked a lot about you,” he commented with his left hand behind his back.

“All good things, I hope?” she joked quietly, her eyes trailed to her black shoes, wet grass glued to the sides of it.

“The best things, I assure,” his voice was firm and calm, his accent oozed her security, something she was eager to cling on. He reached for the inner pocket of his blazer, pulling a crisp white card. She furrowed her eyebrows, accepting the card. On it, it had Alfred’s name, his profession underneath and a phone number. “If you ever find yourself needing anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

She nodded, her thumb lightly brushing the expensive paper on her hand. “Thank you Mister Pennyworth,” her eyes found the old man, the wrinkles around it making his stern stance seem gentler. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come over for some tea?” he offered. “I’m sure Master Bruce wouldn’t mind having his son’s friend over.”

She wanted to, a force inside her compelled her to accept his offer. But her heart was broken, and she didn’t know if she was ready to enter what used to be Jason’s home so fast after he was buried. At the same time, maybe she didn’t have the nerve to say no to such a kind person. “I--,” she hesitated, “okay, I’ll have some tea.”

Aged 18, mid-August.

“I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” her hands fiddling with the necklace Jason had given her long ago. “It feels like I’m at a crossroads and every sign points to the direction my heart doesn’t want to go.”

The old butler poured her mint tea - her favorite, as he had learned over the weekly visits she paid him - calmly and firmly as she ranted. “What is holding you back?”

She looked at Alfred, her eyes confused at the question. She hadn’t lingered on the fact of why she didn’t want to accept the scholarship on Metropolis. Her brain told her it was only logical, she would miss her parents, her weekly meeting with Alfred, her hometown. But Alfred was always one step ahead, he had a sixth sense as she had come to learn. “You know,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the beautiful teacup in front of her.

He said her name, getting her attention. “Master Jason isn’t here anymore,” he stated simply, laying cookies on her plate, “you don’t have to stay behind for him.”

“I know,” she picked up the spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “But,” she hesitated, not knowing how to phrase her feelings, “Alfred, I can’t even think of it. I can’t wrap my brain around leaving him.”

“You are not leaving him,” his voice was calm and gentle, softening her panic. “You are moving on.”

She shook her head, her eyes shut close tightly. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered, “I feel like I’m meant to be here, Alfred. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well, if you do decide to stay in Gotham, I hope we can continue our weekly teas,” Alfred said, a tone of hope in his voice.

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with kindness. “If I do decide to stay, I’d love to keep our weekly teas,” her smile stayed as she uttered the words. “I appreciate our time together, Alfred.”

“I’m honored,” he said to her, bringing the teacup to his lips.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she turned around to see who it was. Turning around, her hand bringing the teacup to her lips, she saw a disheveled Bruce Wayne walking towards her. His eyes were barely opened, prominent bags under his eyes cast a shadow on his features. His tie hung untied on his neck, his shirt over his pants, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. It was a stark contrast from the Bruce Wayne she had seen at Jason's funeral, two years back, the one she saw frequently splattered on the news front pages.

“Oh,” he stopped on his tracks, his hands falling limply to his sides. His jaw tensed and, suddenly, a mask fell on his face, the vulnerability he displayed a few seconds before gone. He wasn’t anymore Bruce, a guy who had just woken up and wanted something from the kitchen of his oversized home, he was the Bruce Wayne, now. The velocity of the transformation haunted her. “I didn’t realize we had visitors.”

She rested the teacup pack on the counter, and got up from the stool. “I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne,” she muttered, extending her hand, introducing herself. “I am, was, Jason’s friend.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, “I remember you.”

Alfred looked pointenly at Bruce as pulled a mug from a cabinet. He poured coffee for himself, and leaned against the counter next to Alfred. She stood there next to her stool, paralyzed in his presence. Everytime she was present in Wayne Manor, Bruce was either too busy to ever grace them with his presence, or away on some business trip she never bothered to ask what for. “We have weekly teas, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his tone laced with something deeper than announcing their weekly traditions.

Bruce’s jaw tightened somehow and his blue eyes rested on her. Her eyes drifted to her teacup, her tea getting cold. She was itching to grab it and drink it, but she felt uncomfortable even moving a inch from her place, much less feeling the liberty to resume her previous behavior. “Really?” his eyebrows shot up, his head tilting slightly. “Please, seat, pretend I’m not here.”

She hesitated before sitting back down. Her hands hugged her teacup, the warmth of it seeping through her skin. It was hard to pretend he was not there next to her, looking at her with judging eyes. She wondered if he remembered her from the funeral, if he had thought of her when he was thinking of Jason’s legacy, what his son had left behind. Her eyes looked up at Bruce before quickly darting back down to her tea, “Yeah, I don’t really wanna go to Metropolis,” she whispered, resuming her previous conversation with Alfred. The air in the kitchen was tense and awkward, she couldn’t look any of them men in the room in the eyes.

“I’m certain Gotham U will admit you,” Alfred reassured her, “You’re a brilliant person, they’d be fools to let you go.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her eyes were focused on the tea, like it was the most important thing in that kitchen. “They usually don’t take this long to send the letters, it’s making me nervous.”

“Gotham U, huh?” Bruce chipped in. “What’s your major?”

She looked expantly at Alfred, trying to see if he knew any of Bruce’s intentions. But she often forgot how impassive Alfred was, how in control of his emotions he was, something she lacked. He didn’t show her anything, she assumed he knew of something, like usually. “Applied physics,” she responded, quietly.

“Wow,” Bruce breathed out, “impressive.”

She offered him an awkward smile in return. It was hard to find a response to the reaction of others when they became aware of her major. It was highly uncommon, and usually those who followed that path were men. When people discovered what she wanted to do with her life, they almost always reacted like they had found an unicorn.

“Well, when you do graduate, look for me, I can help you get a job,” Bruce politely offered, his tone kind. She looked up at him for the first time, his expression almost fatherly.

“Thank you Mr. Wayne, that’s very kind of you,” she bored her head, looking down at her tea once again.

His phone rang, and he picked it up from his pocket. Her eyes trailed over to his expression, his jaw once again tense. “You’re welcome,” he replied, feigning happiness and comfort. “If you’ll excuse me,” he left the kitchen in broad steps, his shoulders tense and determined.

That was the first time she came to the conclusion that Bruce Wayne was a strange man.

Aged 22, end of May.

College was an excruciating experience, but finally she had left it all behind. With her diploma in hands, she finally felt a small semblance of freedom, something she had longed when isinde the four walls of her old dorm in Gotham U.

She stepped into the ground floor of Wayne towers, her shoes clicking nervously on the floor. She had made sure to dress properly to meet Bruce Wayne, unsure of what he’d think if she showed up dressed like a broke college student, something that she very much was. It was the mentality of fake it till you make it, aim a bit higher and maybe you’ll get there. She desperately wished she’d get there.

One of the receptionists let her in, indicating the floor in which she should go to. Her hands sweat gripping the folder with her recommendations and her resume, she gulped looking at the elevator intently. Her free hand found its way to the tiny robin gently resting on her neck. She wished Jason was there to help her, give her tips on what to say to his Father to make him glad, and what to avoid doing so that he’d hire her. She could imagine him if she closed her eyes, next to her, barely taller than her, smiling at her wishing her good luck. The elevator dinged, bringing her back to reality. Jason wasn’t next to her, and she didn’t have anyone to give her tips on what to say to her potential boss. She was alone, just like she had been for six long years.

In spite of the hundred floors of the building - quite literally - the elevator ride was fast. When the doors opened, it revealed a small greeting room, with a couple of couches and a tall window illuminating it. She eyed directly in front of her, the double doors with a tiny plaque with the name Bruce Wayne engraved on it. Her eyes lingered on it for a couple of moments, as she walked towards the lonesome couch next to the big window. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the beating heart. She wondered if Bruce was already inside the room, if he remembered what he had offered to her all those years ago, or if he had just been polite and did not plan on following with it at all.

After that strange meeting with him four years back, she had barely seen him again. A couple of times she had seen a shadow passing through the corridors while she was heading out of the Manor, someone she assumed for the sake of her mental health it was Bruce Wayne and not a ghost. The notion that he was a strange man only intensified, adding the perception that he was hiding something. She knew he was a good actor, but she could see tiny cracks and slips, an ability gained from years of loneliness. It was hard to say what it was that he was keeping a secret from everyone, but there was something there.

Her name was called and she saw Bruce Wayne standing underneath the frame of the double doors that lead to his office. She got up promptly and walked towards him, her grip on her folder tight. His hand was extended and she shook it professionally, pretending like she wasn’t panicking inside.

“I have someone I’d like for you to meet,” he stated, guiding her inside his office. The office was probably four times bigger than the small room she had stayed previously, the large windows providing a beautiful view from Gotham. You could almost pretend it was a normal city looking out from that window. “This,” he motioned to the man sitting on a cozy nook in the back of the room, “is Lucius Fox.”

The man was big and well built, his round glasses standing on the tip of his nose. He smiled at her, crinkles forming beside his eyes. His hand found his glasses, taking them off and putting them in his pocket. “Nice to meet you, Miss. mr. Wayne has talked a lot about you,” he stated, his hand extended for her to take it.

She looked back at Bruce, confused. After all, he remembered her and he remembered his offer. She turned back to Lucius and shook his hand, a determined expression on her face. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox.”

“Lucius Fox is the head of our R&D department, and has agreed to take you as his personal apprentice,” Bruce explained.

Shock overcame her, her eyes wide. She looked between Lucius’ kind smile and Bruce’s stoic stance, unable to believe the opportunity was real. “Really?” she uttered incredulously.

“I have some personal projects and I’d very much need the help,” Lucius explained, calmly. “Mr. Wayne has talked highly of you, I’m eager to see what you’re capable of doing.”

“I--,” she shook her head, trying to get rid of the hesitation, “thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce responded, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Aged 24, April 26th.

The humid air of the cave made sweat drip down her face as she tinkered away with a broken gadget she had designed for Bruce’s night time activities, as she had so dearly called it.

It was a new development, the cave and the capes and the vigilantism. The two years she invested working with Lucius all served a greater purpose to Bruce. She was to be the next Lucius Fox, help provide Batman, or rather Bruce - in her head it was still confusing to assume that the guy who had given her a job was the ‘Dark Knight’ - with gadgets capable of doing everything that his physical capabilities couldn’t. Lucius was old and reaching retirement, and even if he loved his job, he was reaching his limit. She was beyond grateful for his guidance, she had learned so much. But he had left her a fucking weird job. There was no other way to describe it.

The cave was quiet, Bruce had left sometime before, she could only hear Alfred quietly talking to Bruce through the comms and the drip-drip of water falling from the ceiling and hitting the small lake underneath her. She had settled in a little abandoned nook, her tools all scattered on top of her table. She rested the screw driver she was working with on the table, lifting the magnifying lens. She rubbed her face, tired of looking towards the tiny malfunctioning screen.

Her hands remained on her face, concealing her emotions. The robin pendant always felt especially heavy on the 26th of April. It had been 8 years since she had seen Jason, and as pathetic as it sounded, she never really got over the loss of him. They always felt particularly lost, she couldn’t focus on anything other than him, running circles around any problem presented to her. Looking at the gadget, it felt nearly impossible to find a solution to it, her mind foggy with sadness and grief that she could never really shake off, even with years between her and the day he had died.

The knowledge that Bruce kept everything as Jason had left, and even made a little homage to his Robin days in a secret corner of the cave, hidden from view, was heavy in her heart. She struggled to keep her eyes trailed to her task and not at the memory of Jason. She took a sharp breath, trying desperately to sew herself together. It was truly pathetic how much it still affected her, how open the wound still was.

A sharp motor sound echoed through the walls of the cave, disturbing the few bats that hung from the ceiling. A guy built like a fucking brick wall parked his bike on the platform, taking long strides towards where Alfred stood. He adorned a cracked red helmet that glistened in the white lights that illuminated the pathway. His heavy footsteps echoed through, her eyes unable to escape from him. She approached silently, praying that that loose panel near the little stairs that lead to the main computer wouldn’t scratch underneath her weight.

“Where the fuck is Bruce?” he growled, his hands balled into fists next to him. His leather jacket was worn and old, its sleeves bunched up near his elbow, exposing his veiny forearms. The cracked part of the helmet revealed his blue eyes, sparkling in a familiar way. It tugged her heartstrings, her hand instinctively went to her robin. It couldn’t be, Jason was dead.

“He’s on patrol, Master Jason,” Alfred said calmly, his eyes trailed to the screens in front of him. Alfred acted like this man’s fits of anger were completely normal.

Her brain repeated that it wasn’t Jason, it was a mere coincidence that this man’s name was the same as her dead best friend’s. Jason was a tiny and scrawny kid, he wasn’t tall and thick like this man. Jason wasn’t bitter and prone to anger fits, even if he was angry most of the time. He was silent and kind and sweet, this man looked to be the opposite of it.

“He promised, Alfred, where is he?” he growled, his fist slamming on the table. “He fucking promised.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon, if you’d like to wait,” Alfred motioned to the medical bay, the gurney sitting there on its lonesome. The man huffed, marching to the gurney, otherwise ignoring her presence a few feet away.

She approached Alfred quietly. “Who was that?” her voice laced with curiosity and fear.

Alfred looked at her serenely, knowing something she didn’t. He smiled at her, teh crinkles around his eyes appearing generously. “Why don’t you find out?,” he responded to her camly.

She took it as an order, and made her way towards the small infirmary area. Her footsteps were light and determined, her hand clutching the robbing resting on her chest tightly. Her brain ran over scenarios on how likely it was that this person had almost every physical attribute to her best friend Jason, if he had taken steroids for the past 8 years. It wasn’t likely, but in light of her new knowledge, of how close the supernatural was to her, it was very much possible.

“Do you want me to take a look?” she asked quietly, shifting the weight from her heels to the tips of her toes. She felt so small in his presence, something she didn’t feel with Bruce, oddly. Maybe it was because Bruce didn’t give off such menacing vibes when he was near her, or maybe it was because her brain was unconsciously comparing this man to her Jason, who had always been smaller than her. “At the helmet, I mean.”

He eyed her surgically, analyzing everything about her. His eyes rested on her pendants, widening slightly in recognition. It took almost everything in her to control her beating heart, to control her brain trying to say that in fact that man before her was her Jason, and it wasn’t her brain playing tricks on her.

He gently took his helmet off, revealing his crisp black hair cooly laying on his forehead. His eyes focused on the helmet, his arms extended to give it to her gently. Her eyes would leave his face, a face she had longed to see for eight excruciatingly long years. His eyes had remained the same, after all: kind and sweet. His face, however, told a story of hardships and pain, hardened by whatever he had been through all these years. She didn’t know how to feel, if she should feel betrayed he hadn't trusted her enough to say that he was alive, that he was six feet under anymore, or if she should feel elated that Jason was alive and she could finally tell him all the things she wanted to.

Her fingers brushed him slightly, as she picked up the broken helmet from his hands. His hands still felt the same, her heart noticed, picking up a beat. She looked at the crack that exposed half of his face, the electrical parts fizzling dangerously. Her eyes focused on Jason once again, her lips shut painfully. The tears that came to her eyes were inevitable, trembling fingers reaching at her robin pendant, clutching it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he shook his head gently, “it’s not your fault.”

She could see he wanted to touch her, but something held him back. She wouldn’t find out what until much later.

Aged 24, August 16th.

Jason had promised her he would show up, and he never broke his promises. That was what she repeated to herself, late at night. She had prepared everything for his birthday, bought a present for him and baked a cake. She had said that he was supposed to appear at seven. It was well past midnight, the cake had found its way back to the fridge, the present was back in her closet, and he hadn’t showed up yet.

A part of her kept telling her to give up, her best friend had stood her up: Jason changed fundamentally, he wasn’t the same boy he was when she met him and it was foolish to hang on to that notion; it was perfectly plausible that he had the habit of breaking promises now. But she was well aware of that, she saw it in the tiny things how much Jason was transformed, it still didn’t change the fact that she knew he valued loyalty above all else, and that included loyalty to his words. He wouldn’t break his promise to her.

She changed out of the cute dress she was wearing, feeling foolish and sad that she was about to give up most of the hope that he would show up. Her pyjamas welcomed her comfortably, a safe space to let the heartbreak settle on her. He won’t break his promise, she repeated mentally, he won’t. The mantra did little to soothe the growing dread inside her, the notion that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she did. That he didn’t tell her everything that day, that he didn’t trust her anymore. It hurt more than she anticipated.

Sleep was almost consuming her when she heard a loud clang outside her bedroom. She shook awake, throwing the covers off her instinctively. Her hand grabbed the baseball bat that rested beside her bed, bringing it up and close to her. With slow steps, she approached the window. Her fear settled when she saw the familiar red helmet staring back at her, begging to let him in. She dropped the bat on the floor, opening the window.

He got in her room awkwardly, struggling to pass his huge frame through a tiny space. She reached to help him, offering her hands. He took them, butterflies running amok on her tummy. “You’re late,” she commented, trying to mask the hurt in her voice.

“I know,” he said, taking off his helmet and dropping it on top of her bed. “I’m sorry.”

She hummed looking at him underneath the moonlight seeping through her window. She hadn’t gotten used to how big he became, and how smaller she felt in his presence. She was by no means a small woman, but his entire being could encapsulate her with a simple hug, and not the other way around like it used to be. “Why are you late?” she moved to sit on the bed, the helmet rolling off the bed delicately.

He looked at her, sitting down next to her gently. “I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs.

“Why do I feel like you’re not being honest with me?” her head tilted, looking at his beautiful profile. There was a scar connecting his right temple to the corner of his upper lip, and it made him even more beautiful than he already was. He fascinated her to no end, his brain, his looks, his entire being was what made her keep going, the light on the end of her tunnel.

His eyes trailed over her face, looking for something she guessed he wouldn’t find. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“What do you mean, Jason,” she breathed out, confused at the inquiry. “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be nice to you.”

“No, you’re not,” he shook his head, his hands balled into fists and his eyes closed. “You’re not supposed to be kind to me,” he got up, his back towards her.

“Stop it, Jason, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit.

“You’re supposed to be angry at me. I abandoned you, left you alone, and when I came back I didn’t tell you, I didn’t look for you,” he continued, trying to manipulate her emotions.

“Why are you saying these things, Jason, they’re not true,” she got up, her voice no longer shaking, determined and focused.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” he turned to her, his eyes tortured and sad. “I don’t deserve your kindness and friendship. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Jay, I--” she started, but Jason interrupted her.

“Don’t, please. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love,” his voice was heavy with emotion. She discovered that Jason was often ruled by two main emotions: sadness and anger. In that moment, she could only see those in him and a part of her broke.

“That’s not true, you’re worthy of mine,” her voice was so honest and raw, it caught Jason by surprise. She didn’t know what he expected out of her at that moment, maybe to give in to his spiral of bad thoughts and self flagellation, but she refused to let him believe those awful things. “Jason, you really don't know?”

He remained in silence, his eyes wide and shocked, focused on the ground. His jaw was tense and his hands balled into fists tightly. She took a hesitant step towards him, reaching for his hands. They relaxed under her touch and she threaded her fingers through his. It wasn’t hard to notice how perfectly they fit with each other, like to halves of a whole. “I’ve loved you ever since I was 14 and you marched into the boys bathroom to get my lit homework back from Mason Anderson,” she whispered, her eyes focused on his face, while his were focused on their hands together. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it, Jay. But I can’t let you believe all those horrible things you said. Not when I love you more than anything in this world.”

He stayed silent for a couple of moments, her heart beating erratically inside her chest, fearing she had screwed up their friendship for good. In a way, it was worst to know he was out there and didn't want to speak to her because she dared to tell him about her love for him. “Please say something,” she begged him quietly.

His eyes finally found hers, his hands breaking the link they formed. He rested his hands on her cheeks gently, and she dared say, lovingly. Her heart started beating excitedly, the fear slowly dissipating as his gaze got more intense.

His lips brushed against hers, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. He kissed her gently, a love delicate and fragile, just acknowledged between them both. His grip on her was firm, his thumb grazing delicately on her cheekbones. Her hands thread through his soft hair, still slightly humid from the sweat caused by the helmet. The air was charged with want, tentative kiss toeing the line between what it was and something more.

She wished to stay like that forever. She prayed to whatever was out there in the Universe, to allow her that happiness. To stay kissing her love tentatively in the dark for as long as she could, as long as he’d let her.

Jason broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers. His fingers found their way to the back of her head, cupping it softly. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing with hers. She reached for his lips once again, like a magnet finding its match. “I love you so much,” he reassured.

They kissed once again, not intending to break apart any time soon.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine

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mxchellesworld · 4 years

Text

super rich kids- chip taylor x reader

synopsis; The sudden inheritance of $68,000 isn't bad at all, especially with a new partner in crime by your side

warnings; smut, unproected sex, mentions of smoking, being high, small mention of violence

part of the 6 fics for 600 celebration, thanks for all the love and support on our first blog! check out @doublekrecs for fic recs

enjoy my angels!

super rich kids by frank ocean

You had finally done it. Your days of suffering with the Mckenzie's were over, however you didn't do it alone. For that you could thank a lanky man named Chip. Originally he and his now ex girlfriend Liza had gone to steal the money, which they were successful in until they saw you were also in the house. After a gruesome weekend, you and Chip had decided to head across the country to sunny California.

The trip was long and tiring but over the days spent driving and staying in a few dingy hotels, you had gotten even closer and weren't planning on splitting up once you reached your destination.

The plan was easy. You'd stay on the coast, you had bonded over the dream of feeling warm sand on your toes. You would get jobs when it was necessary but for time being you both just wanted to enjoy the beach, your newly earned riches, and being in each other's arms.

Mellow. That's how you felt. It was more than welcomed. You had been settled for just over two weeks. A chunk of the money had been spent but not enough to start worrying. For now the only thing on your mind was the sight of Chip's long curls damp on his face from swimming in the ocean.

The sun was shining down on the both of you, making his eyes shine brighter than they'd been since you first met him. He leaned in and pressed a quick peck on your lips bringing you out of your reverie.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked caressing your cheeks.

"Nothin. Just you," you gave him a small smile.

"Just me," he smiled back. You nodded and made small shapes in the sand. He stopped your hand which caused you to look up at him.

"Why don't we go back home so I can make sure I'm all you think about." In an instant you were putting on your shirt and picking up your scattered belongings to walk back to the little beach house.

This was all new for Chip. He was so used to being pushed around and constantly worrying but he was definitely loving the new sense of freedom and might he say dominance that's grown on him.

You had walked hand in hand up the little wooden steps, a comfortable silence filling the air. Occasionally you'd look up and notice the little blush on his cheeks which you assumed was from more than spending the day in the sun.

He led you into the bedroom which was flooded with warmth, a yellow glow giving you amazing lighting to take in the sight of one another. He nodded towards the bedside table where you kept your weed and you took the hint to start packing a bowl. He went into the bathroom and you smiled at the sound of water filling the tub.

By the time he called for you to come in you had stripped and walked in with the tray of your stuff and two glasses of water. He had gotten in first and was taking in the view of your soft body sitting across from his in the tub. You grabbed the small pipe you had packed and brought it up to your lips. Closing your eyes as you inhaled the smoke, you turned your head to side before blowing it back out.

He was admiring the glow around you when you had brought him back to the real world, handing over the pipe for him to take a hit. You grabbed your phone to set soft music in the background. Once you both had passed it back and forth you set it down and moved forward to sit in his lap. His arms wrapping around your body as you pressed kisses along his neck, leaving bruises to admire in the morning.

You could feel him getting hard underneath you. Just as he felt your nipples becoming peaks against his chest. One of his hands reached down to swipe between your folds before aligning himself with your warmth. You plopped down, taking inch after inch. He pulled you in for a kiss and you sighed at the feeling of his stretch. Your hands went to his shoulders for leverage to start moving. His moved down to grip on your soft hips to help guide you up and down.

The bathroom was filled with the sounds of water sloshing and your combined moans bouncing off the tiled walls. He started to thrust up meeting your movements, bringing you both closer to your ends. You leaned back, gropping your breasts and pinching your nipples letting out whimpers of his name.

"Cum for me Y/n. Let go baby I got you." He was mesmerized by your body trembling, you looked like a goddess above him. Your walls squeezing his length led him to his end, cuming inside of you with whispered curses.

Your head fell onto his heaving chest where you stayed a little longer with his hands rubbing circles on your back. This was the peace you had both been searching for.

#matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fic #chip taylor #chip taylor x reader #68 kill #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg character #chip taylor smut #chellewrites

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Boom

Jason ‘J.D.’ Dean x Reader

Words: 1819

Part One

Summary: Preparing to run away together, J.D. and the reader hit a problem in their plan. J.D.’s father. Things take a turn and J.D. has to decide if this new feeling of love is real enough to die for.

Notes: I know I took forever to write this and I’m sorry! I’m ashamed of how much I love J.D. but here we are. Same as the first part. This has been sooooo much fun to write and I hope that you guys like it! (Again, if you’re at all uncomfortable just skip this)

Warnings: Murder (duh), sex (not smut, but definitly more than I’ve ever done before), language, same as the first part

More 80s/90s: HERE

The backseat of your mother’s car was not ideal for this kind of celebration, but you couldn’t wait to get back to the house, so you found a spot in the forest to pull over. J.D.’s face was buried in your neck and your fingers were tangled up in his black hair. He was in a particularly good mood.

The cops fell for it. Both murders were covered up perfectly. Tommy’s was ruled a suicide and he would forever be remembered as the school pervert. Nobody was surprised by your mother’s death and it was quickly written off as an overdose. The only thing left was to pack. The two of you were getting out of this fucking little town and you were never looking back.

Pressed together like this, you knew that you didn’t give a shit what happened if it wasn’t with him. Looking into your eyes, J.D. reached a similar conclusion. You were what he wanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something.

“Where do you think we’ll go?” You asked, situating yourself on top of his chest. He shrugged.

“Anywhere.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, his fingers lightly drumming on the small of your back. This was actually happening. For the first time in your life you didn’t feel trapped. You could do whatever the hell you wanted. You had gotten away with two murders for fuck’s sake. You were invincible.

J.D. felt different. Hell, he was feeling, which was a different sensation on its own. He fell back onto his bed with a grin on his face. It wasn’t that someone had broken through the ice. It was more like he had found someone drowning underneath the frost just like him.

“Hey dad, how was your day?” His dad asked sarcastically, popping his head in the doorway. J.D. didn’t even look up and his dad didn’t stay long enough for a response. It was more of a routine than actual affection. In just a few hours, it wouldn’t matter anyway. His dad could blow himself up for all he cared. He would be long gone.

He eventually figured that he needed to start packing. He shoved his motorcycle keys in his pockets with a sigh. He’d have to sell it. The two of you would be taking your mom’s old car so you’d have somewhere to sleep, so his motorcycle would have to go.

“The things I do for love.” He snarked to himself. When he opened his drawers, he found them all empty. “What the hell?” All of them were empty, his clothes were nowhere to be found. He stepped into the hall and saw the pair of suitcases at the bottom of the stairs.

“I packed everything up for you while you were gone.” His dad walked by them, looking up the stairs at him. J.D. shrugged.

“Convenient, but why?”

“We’re finally moving out of this shit hole town. On to sunny Florida!” He had that smile on his face that he usually used to appeal to businessmen and other corrupt assholes. J.D. just laughed.

“Well isn’t that just perfect timing?” He bounded down the steps with his chaotic grin plastered on his face. “Looks like we are finally parting ways, son.” His dad faltered.

“What?”

“Goodbye, adios, adieu.” J.D. grabbed his suitcase and started back up towards his room. “Soon, I will be out of your hair forever. You can go on with your life of bombs and demolition and I will go on with my own kind of destruction.” He pat his dad on the head, ruffling his hair like a normal father would his normal son.

“Jason, you can’t just leave.” Bud’s smile strained. “We’re a team, you and I.” J.D. stopped suddenly and laughed.

“Team? Sorry dad, but the only thing we even know about each other is our love of all things explosive.”

“This is about that girl, isn’t it? The slutty one you’ve been fucking around with since we moved here.” He shook his head, chuckling deeply. “You’ll get bored with her soon enough, so don’t bother.” J.D. just smirked smugly.

“Thanks for the advice there, pops, but I think I can handle my slutty girlfriend all on my own.” He started to close his bedroom door, but his dad put his foot in the way.

“You don’t get to leave like she did, boy.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m not making that mistake again, J.D.” A creepy, maniacal smile spread across Bud’s face. Fuck, I thought I was the only psycho in the family. “Just stay here and I’ll do what I do best.” He moved his foot and slammed the door shut. J.D. heard something scratching and scraping on the other side and quickly tried to get out.

“You locked me in here with a chair? Seriously!” He screamed through the wood. No response. “Motherfucker.” He paced back and forth plotting a very bloody demise for dear old dad when he heard the squealing of tires outside his window. “Where the hell is he going?”

Wherever it was, J.D. wasn’t going to be kept out of it. He tried kicking down the door, but that didn’t work. The only way out of the room was the window, but there was nothing to climb down and he was on the second floor. J.D. unlocked the latch and lifted up the window pane, looking out to see just how far of a drop it was. He’d live.

Without hesitation, he jumped.

“Fuck!” He shouted, pain shooting up his leg from his ankle. He fell to the ground, but was able to get himself on his feet. His foot hurt like a bitch, but he could bare it enough to walk to his motorcycle.

He was at your house in less than ten minutes, breaking every traffic rule in the book. He didn’t care, he just wanted to get out. Limping his way up the sidewalk, he found that your front door was already open.

“Time to go, Y/N. Grab your stuff and let’s get out of here!” He shouted, but the house was empty. Just the strong stench of death and booze that your mother had left behind. Mother. He remembered his dad’s comment and felt a chill. Do what he does best. “Oh shit.” He took off again, heading for his father’s next destruction sight before you became part of it.

You spat, hitting him in the eye as he finished cuffing you to the old hospital bed frame. Bud grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head into one of the metal bars. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of crying. Instead you just glared at him through squinted eyes.

“He’s going to come get me.” You smirked, trying to get the blurriness in your version to clear. “J.D. is going to tear you apart you sick bastard.”

“You can call me all the names in the book, kid, but my son is coming with me.” He tightened the cuff so that it dug sharply into the skin of your wrist.

“When did you become the ‘world’s best dad’?” You scoffed.

“Do you know how much more lenient a judge can be when I’ve got a poor, disturbed teenage boy who depends on me for a living?”

“So he’s just a legal bargaining chip for you? How sweet.” You pulled against your restraints until the metal broke skin. Blood oozed from your wrist and Bud laughed.

“Really, Jason couldn’t have picked a better girl for the job. You’re the most disposable person in this town. No family, no friends, no one to report you missing.” He strapped the main bomb to the other end of the bed and started the timer. “And there will be nothing left of you once this does it’s job.”

“Go to hell.”

“Lady’s first.”

You stared at him, wandering if he was the last person you’d ever see. God, that’d be the real tragedy here. You looked at the timer on the bomb. Less than three minutes. Bud noticed you looking and chuckled.

“I wouldn’t get any ideas. If that one doesn’t go off, there are three more upstairs.” He pointed to the ceiling and then made the motion of it caving in with his hands.

“You’re enjoying this to a creepy level, Mr. Dean.” You snarked. If you could piss him off, maybe he wouldn’t get out in time. At least then you’d take him out with you. “What, does blowing up 18-year-old girls get you off or something? Is that why your wife killed herself?” He tensed and balled his hand into a fist.

“You think you’re really cute, don’t you, you little bitch?”

“No, but your son does.” You smiled sarcastically. Bud just rolled his eyes and turned to leave, meeting the barrel of a gun.

“Hey there, son.” J.D. growled. Bud held up his hands.

“Jason, I can-” The gunshot ripped through the small space, making your ears ring. As his dad’s body slumped to the floor, J.D. shrugged.

“Sorry, tiger, I’m not in the mood for a monologue.” He knelt in front of you, eyes darting to the timer on the other side.

“Jason Dean, knight in shining black trenchcoat.” You laughed, pulling again at the handcuffs. He moved over to his dad’s body, searching his pockets but coming back empty handed.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath.

“What is it?”

“No key.” J.D. ran his fingers through his hair, switching his attention to disabling the bomb. Your face fell as the realization hit you.

“It’s no use. There are more upstairs that are going to go off even if this one doesn’t.” You slumped against the bed frame. His greenish gold eyes looked back at you and for a second you though you saw a hint of panic. You really did love him. “You should go.”

“What?”

“Get out of here, J.D. You don’t have much time.” You tried to keep calm, but your body was betraying you. Your arms were shaking and your face felt hot. You weren’t scared to die, but you were scared to die alone.

“You really think I’m just going to leave you here?” J.D. shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed frame. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me now. Afterlife and all.”

“J.D…” You sighed. He silenced you with a hungry kiss.

“What did I say after we killed that douchebag ex of yours?” He pulled you closer, snaking an arm around your back. Your lips pulled up into a smile.

“Our love is God.”

“Our love is God.” He repeated, his eyes sparkling. This time, you pulled him in for the kiss and you stayed pressed together until-

Boom.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks Christian Slater: @staxryskxes

#heathers #chaos is what killed the dinosaurs darling #our love is god #jason dean #J.D. x reader #christian slater #80s #death #murder

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himitsu-luna · 3 years

Text

Umbrella

♪~ Now playing - Love Song, by Nct 127 ~♪

Warnings: none

Pairing: Doyoung x reader

Genre: fluff/ friends to lovers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

— "Ohh great! It's raining!", you say out loud, standing in front of the small convenience store you've just left, while watching huge water drops hitting the ground. This ordinary statement may look harmless, but you were able to make it sound almost like a curse.

You hate when it rains. The thunders scare you, your feet get all soaked inside of your shoes, the traffic turns into a mess of impatient beeping cars, the bright and warm sun is gone, the day loses its colors and becomes gloomy, and you see your mood instantly turning gray like the sky.

Your plans were simple, easy, error proof. Step one: walk to the convenience store, ten minutes away from your home by foot. Checked. Step two: buy ingredients to bake the chocolate chip cookies you woke up craving this morning. Checked. Step three: go back home, prepare everything, and eat the cookies while watching a good drama. Big fail. You now are stuck, unable to give one step out of your shelter. You blame yourself for not having an umbrella. But who would imagine that the beautiful clean blue sky could unleash such a massive waterfall today? "Well, all I can do now is wait" - you finally say to yourself, tired of giving the rain angry glances and accepting that this is a much better option than throwing a tantrum.

After five minutes of a boring waiting, you see from afar a familiar lean and elegant figure walking towards you, under a enourmous black umbrella. You heart skips a beat when the man gets closer and you visualize better the perfect shaped features of his face. It's Doyoung.

Doyoung and you are acquantances since high school, and now you're taking the same course at college. You say "acquantances" because you could never consider yourself close to THE Doyoung. Even though you two interact quite a lot, Doyoung is like an untouchable legendary being. He is the crush of half of the campus, and just because the other half still didn't have the opportunity to meet him. You, of course, is part of the first group.

— "Hey! Y/N!! Hello!! – you see Doyoung waving his slender free hand at you, while approaching more and more. "Hi Doyoung!", You answer, when he is already in front of you, near enough to be able to hear your shy voice. "What are you doing standing here?", he asks you, leaning a bit to get to your eyes' level. "Ah, I'm waiting for the rain to stop, so I can go home. I have no umbrella, you know, hehe". Doyoung straights his back again, and looks at the sky, showing off his long and gorgeus neck, to which you give a quick glance before looking down, timidly. "Hmmm.." – Doyoung stars talking again – "This rain won't stop anytime soon, you know?... Do you... Want me to take you home?" . You freeze for a second, still processing his proposal. You're about to refuse it though, because you don't want to bother him, but he just pulls you under his umbrella and you walk away side by side, arms touching, stepping on the wide water puddles on the street – "Let's go! I can't just let you here", he says with his soft voice.

–"Oh my God, what is happening? Please heart, you're going to give me out!", you think, still not believing you are so close to Doyoung. You walk some blocks in silence, when he suddenly asks you if he can carry your shopping bags for you. You refuse a million times, but he is as stubborn as you, and manages to snatch it from your hands. He steal a glance at its inside, and gives a little chuckle -"Ohh y/n! I see you still like these sour candies no one likes! hahaha". You could feel offended, but you got happily surprised. You didn't know that such a trivial and random fact about you was known to him. Actually, not even your best friends knew about your eccentric taste in candies. You can't help but feeling flattered somehow, trying to hide a fool smile from him.

---

1st year of high school

Doyoung was a new student at the school. He knew no one, and was wandering alone through the school building, looking for something to eat at the break time. He saw a little vending machine in a dark corner near the stairs, and he went there to buy some chocolate. For his disappointment, the machine was mean. It stole his money and gave him no candy. Looking defeated with a empty stomach, he turned around to go back to the class, when you suddenly appeared, slaping the machine at some specific place, making it spit a chocolate bar right away. Doyoung grabed his prize and looked at you. He immediately noticed two things. Your warm, kind and pretty face, and a half eaten green sour candy in your right hand. His heart started beating faster as he introduced himself to you, and yours was in the same state as his, as he showed you his cute gummy smile.

---

Still walking your way to your house, you sneakily try to look at his face, but, for your surprise and shock, he is looking directly at the top of your head. "You... Changed your shampoo?", he asks you, with a curious look in his eyes. "Oh yes! After years using the same brand, I decided to change it! But wait, how do you know that??", you reply, and the confusion is clear in your tone. "It's just... not the same smell. But I still like it". His poker face is really difficult to read, although you can swear you saw some hint of red tinting his pale cheeks for a second. However, all you think as an answer is a plain "Thank you", before you fall in silence again.

---

2nd year of high school

Doyoung and you were lab partners at Science classes. Doyoung loved it, since he got the opportunity to be close to you. You never noticed his amused sparkling eyes looking at you while you excitedly explained him the subject. In one of these blessed classes, while paying attention to a glass filled with a purple liquid in front of you , you two got so close that the scent of your hair mightly hit Doyoung's senses, inebriating him. "Apple". That was his only thought until the conclusion of the class.

---

– "We are almost at your house, right? We just need to turn left there and you'll be safe and sound!" , Doyoung said, in a strangely melancholic way. "Yes! That's right! That's... Right. Oh, so you know where I live?". You were confused. You've just noticed that you never told him where your house was, and he literally guided you there without any instructions. He seems startled by your question, as he answers it, scratching the back of his neck: - " ahh..this... I saw you leaving your house once. So yes, I know." You keep in silence again, but this time you can feel his body becoming warmer and warmer through the few layers of clothes that keep your arms from really touching each other.

---

3rd year of high school

Doyoung was on his way to school, when a gorgeous tree, loaded with pink blooming flowers, grabbed his attention. He stopped to give a good look at it, but suddenly his eyes decided to focus on a beautiful figure, your figure, the one he knew so well, leaving the yellow house in front of the big tree. He was hypnotized. Thousands of petals were dancing over you, guided by the soft spring wind. It was almost like the winter snow, even though your bright sunny smile at the sky reminded him of a happy summer day, and the increasing warmth inside of his chest felt like the cozy Autumn. With that vision he got the confirmation. He was completely in love with you.

---

You stop in front of your house. Now you're facing each other, still squeezed under the black umbrella, the rain insistently pouring over you. It's time to say goodbye, but the farewell just refuses to leave both of your mouths. You, then, finally say, getting your bags back from his hands -"Well, I need to enter now. I'm baking some cookies." "Are you going to put some walnuts in your cookies? I know you love them!", Doyoung says, innocently, getting you by surprise again. "Doyoung, I'm actually really admired! I... I didn't know you knew so many little details about me. You must be a really observant person!", you wrapped your phrase like that, talking more to yourself than to him, trying to not be delusional about it.

Doyoung takes a deep breath. For a minute, he keeps his eyes shut. When he finally opens them, you see their tenderness filling your soul, as he starts to speak :"y/n, I'm only observant when it comes to you. I know a lot of things about you. I know you scrunch your nose when you don't like something; I know you bite your nails when you're feeling anxious; I know your favorite color is orange because your favorite fruit is also orange; I know you're bad at remembering dates, so you have them all written down in your notebook; I know you dislike horror movies, cry at sad movies and get excited over hero movies; I know you speak while sleeping, but only when you're too tired; I know you have this little moon shaped birth mark at your shoulder, and you are proud of it ." He stops to take a breath. Your heart is pumping faster than ever. He moves his free arm and reaches for your hand, intertwining his slim fingers with yours. At the same time, he gives a short step towards you, reducing the distance between your bodies to almost zero. His face slowly gets closer and closer to yours, and you can feel his mint breath as he start talking again: "And I know... I know you like me as much as I like you." This being said, Doyoung, all of sudden, drops the umbrella that was protecting you two, and cups your face with both of his hands. While you get drenched by the rain, your lips land on each other's and melt into a sweet, slow paced and long kiss, full of affection and passion. He carefully breaks the kiss apart, and gives you a cheeky smile, while moving his hands to your waist : "I also know you hate when it rains, and you hate to get soaked, so I'm sorry for this". You laugh lightly, replying before pulling him for another kiss : "I guess you finally got something wrong. I actually really love when it rains".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~°• taglist - @starrdustville

#Doyoung #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct Headcanons #nct blurbs #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #fluff #nct fluff #nct 127

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

.eps (cut)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: this version of the epilogue is the 'clean cut' - there's a good chunk of it missing but it's not particularly important to the story. if you want to read the EXPLICIT version, there should be another one uploaded at the same time. (sorry, this is scheduled so i don't have the link yet lol)

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

You stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walk into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Placing the body into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale. Off to the woods, where you buried your first love. In a town where not everyone who dies leaves.

The drive to and from the place was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and go straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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lunarliza · 4 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter 3: Bandanas

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?

Your eyes peeled open. You groaned at the lack of sleep as you shifted to your bedside table to check your phone. Almost immediately after your rendezvous the night before, JJ dashed out the window, leaving you to drift to sleep.

Sometimes, you’d get this weird feeling after he would leave so quickly- like you were being used. Well, you were, but you hated feeling like it. It was like a comedown after the euphoria of sex and it didn’t always feel the best, but you dealt with it. It had be going on for almost three months; you were way too in over your head at this point.

You sighed, staring at the wall across your bed, thinking back to the remnants of that first night. How nasty and humid the air felt as you both rejoined the party after like nothing happened:

“You can’t tell anyone about what just happened,” JJ stated as he fixed his shorts.

His words did pierce you slightly, but you put on a front nevertheless. “Please, I’d rather be caught dead than with you.”

He chuckled to himself as you both trudged down the beach. “That’s not what I heard back there princess.”

It didn’t take long for your parents to blow up your phone that night, seeing it was 3 a.m. and their daughter was nowhere to be found. You came home with the smell of alcohol emitting through your clothes.You only hoped you had wiped off enough smeared mascara on the car ride home to deter them. Your mother read you the riot act as Ted stood in the corner of the kitchen. She screamed and hollered before her palm finally came in contact with your cheek.

The following Monday, you ditched last period and drove over to The Cut, hoping to come across JJ. Driving along a narrow street, you see the shirtless golden boy mowing the lawn in a small yard. Pulling up, you rolled the windows down while a devilish grin snaked its way to his lips once he caught sight of you.

“Couldn’t stay away from me huh?”

You glared at him. “Just shut up and get in.”

Shutting off the lawn mower, he hopped in your car, smelling of sweat and freshly cut grass .

“Look,” you began, fiddling with the ends of your blouse, “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

JJ’s finger tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. It was different seeing them in broad daylight. He didn’t seem like some sleazy Pogue you met at a party. He actually reminded you of a puppy... an annoying one with anger issues.

“I understand if-”

“No, I get you,” he answered, biting his lower lip. “After the way we fucked that night, I’m down to... go at it again.”

“Okay but we need rules,” you insisted to which he rolled his eyes. “What’s with chicks and rules?”

“This island is small and talk gets around. No one can know about us.”

“Well duh.” He gave you an annoyed look. “You may think you’re all that and a bag of chips but my friends would totally clown me if they found out I was with a Kook, much less you.”

“Oh please! What do you even know about me?” you retorted, not having his attitude outburst.

“Y/n, you’re like bitchiest of them all,” he replied snarkily and your eyes met the ceiling of your car. “Not even the Kooks like you.”

“Shut up, asshole.” You tried to hide the hurt from the fact that even he knew about your reputation. “Anyways, rule number two: we have to meet on Figure Eight.”

“Hell no, why do I have to haul my ass to you?”

You sighed heavily, gripping the bottom of the steering wheel. “My stepdad will literally kill me if he finds me here. Look, I know all the hiding places there and I’ll even get you a keycard to get in through the gate.”

JJ smiled to himself. “Kill you huh? And yet, here you are, coming here, practically begging for me to fuck you. What will daddy think about that?”

You contemplated punching him in that moment. “Don’t flatter yourself. You followed me that night remember?”

JJ shrugged, leaning back in the seat. “I thought you were a touron. It was dark- sue me. Anyways, fine! We meet at the Eight. Anything else?”

“This goes without saying, but absolutely no feelings,” you stated sternly as JJ snorted.

“Oh princess, you do not have to worry about that whatsoever.”

“Fine then, it’s a deal.”

You both shook on it. JJ held onto your hand a moment longer to tug you onto the passenger seat, colliding his lips with yours. It didn’t take you both very long to undress and climb into the back seat afterwards.

A loud knock on your bedroom door startled you. “Y/n! Breakfast in ten minutes!”

Peeling off your duvet, you leaped out of bed and started doing some small stretches until you noticed a jumbled up grey bandana on your window seat.

“Fucking kid,” you muttered to yourself before reaching for it and throwing it in a bin on your shelf.

JJ was klepto alright. He also had a terrible habit of leaving shit everywhere he went. If he tried to rob a bank, he’d be caught in seconds because he’d leave some trace of him. Over the course of your agreement you unintentionally started making a collection of the things he left. What started out as a bracelet on your nightstand grew to socks, lighters, hats, sunglasses, tank tops, and the occasional perfectly rolled joint (that he’d never see again). You always meant to give back all the shit he left, but he’d always leave so hurriedly that you’d forget and the collection would just grow.

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

“Jade!” you blurted unexpectedly as you strolled into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

The small brunette sat next to your mother at the table, halfway done with her breakfast plate. She flashed you her killer sunny smile as your mom chimed in from her seat. “Jade here was in the neighborhood and wanted to take you on a boat ride this morning with the Cameron family.”

“It’ll be fun y/n!” she insisted, kicking her tiny legs that didn’t reach the floor.

You were a little confused as to why you were invited to hang out with the Cameron kids seeing as they have always ignored you at school and every event. Jade caught on and threw you a look that said ‘just go with it’.

“Um, yeah. I’m really excited to hang out with uh- Sierra and Ra- her brother,” you babbled, earning yourself an ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look. You shrugged your shoulders, helping yourself to some eggs and pancakes.

“Well sweetie, I think it’s great that you’re getting to know more people around here! Don’t forget you do need an escort for the Debutante Ball in a few weeks so maybe you can ask the Cameron boy to take you,” your mother suggested and Jade nearly spit out her fruit at the mention of it.

You closed your eyes, sighing. “Yes, of course mother.”

“So when were you going to tell me you’re a debutante!” Jade cackled as you both made way to the Camerons’ boat along the dock.

“If you ever mention it again, I will personally slit your throat.”

“You! You y/n of all people!” She had to suppress her laughter to a fit of giggles. “So wait, you’ve been going to Chapel Hill all this time to learn how to ballroom dance and do all that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes! I told you my mother is actually insane. Anyways, what are we doing hanging out with the Camerons anyways? I thought you hated their sister.”

“I do,” Jade responded as-a-matter-of-factly, “It’s the brother that’s delicious. Oh- and Sarah won’t be there and neither will their dad or any of their family really. It’s just going to be Rafe and a couple of his friends. He told me to bring some friends too so it won’t be awkward.”

“And you chose me of all people? Jade, you have plenty of other very sociable friends you could have brought.”

“Shut up y/n! You’re hot as shit okay! You just need to get out there more and meet people. Maybe then you won’t hate it here so much. Trust me, once you experience the OBX the right way, you’ll absolutely love it.”

You crinkled your nose at her. “You’re just as insane as my mother.”

“Come on! There are hot guys wanting to take us on their very nice boats. It’s free drinks and maybe some food,” she promised.

You groaned. “Fine, but if any of them make an unsolicited move on me, I’m jumping overboard and swimming home. Also, now that I think about it, isn’t Rafe like way too old to be hanging around us?”

Jade shrugged. “A little age never hurt nobody.” The boys whooped as Jade made her grand entrance onto their very large white boat as you trailed behind. Another thing you weren’t well versed in since moving here- boats. To you it was just big and small, windows and no windows, motor and no motor, but it was like a language here. When everyone would start rambling off about engines and fishing and whatnot you would just kindly smile and nod until they got the hint and walked away.

“Who’s your friend McCoy?” a tall boy with slicked back hair asked Jade as he enclosed an arm around her waist.

“Rafe, this is y/n! She moved here in October and lives on the east end of the Eight.”

So this was the famous Rafe Cameron. You’d seen him a couple times golfing with Ted when you would hide away in the golf cart on your phone. Ted would mention a few times about how he was trouble and, telling by the way he still hung out with high schoolers at almost 20 years old, you believed it.

You smiled uneasily and gave him a tiny wave as two other guys emerged from the front with a cooler. They both coordinated with the colorful short-shorts and printed button ups. They also wore those God-awful tinted sunglasses with the band connecting the backs. You recognized them from school- Topper and Kelce.

“Oh hey y/n,” they greeted tensely, each giving you an awkward smile and one-armed hug. You were in shock they knew your name even.

“McCoy, did you bring anyone else?” Kelce asked, totally not making it obvious of your unwanted presence.

Not even the Kooks like you.

You knew you’d have a hard time the moment you stepped foot onto Figure Eight. You had a very humble upbringing, which was unfathomable to the kids at school, so it was hard for you to make any real friends besides Jade. During the school year, you ate lunch by yourself and sprinted home as soon as the final bell rang. It got to a point where, when anyone would try to talk to you, you’d either roll your eyes or just simply ignore them.

“Nope! Just me and my girl.” Jade flung an arm around your shoulder and handed you a beer. She raised her eyebrows at you to check if you were okay, and you smiled reassuringly, taking the bottle.

“Let’s hope she knows how to hang,” Topper added as he started the engine on the boat.

You sipped on your beer as you rode down the marsh. Kelce tried to make small talk with you as Topper drove and Jade macked on Rafe. It actually wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, Kelce did have the occasional funny story or witty thing to say even if it was about swinging a golf club or purchasing some extravagant item no one ever needed.

“Woah Pogue alert,” you heard Topper warn as he steered next to a smaller boat hanging on the side

You glanced over and immediately met eyes with JJ who was casually laying back with his friends- two dudes and a girl. When he wasn’t acting like a complete jerk, he actually looked down to earth and kind of innocent. Cans of cheap beer littered their deck and a cute little ‘HMS Pogue’ lettering hung from the back.

You turned back to Kelce, thinking it was just a quick pass by until you heard something thump on the side of the boat from their side.

“Fucking rats!” Rafe barked at the group and hurled an open can of beer over towards them.

“That’s for the van you sons of bitches!” you heard JJ holler as Topper slowed down the boat so they were eye-to-eye.

“Hey that’s payback! I know it was you that fucked up my bike, filthy Pogue!” Topper snarled, pointing at JJ, tumbling more shit in their direction.

The throwing escalated into an all-out war. You screamed and joined Jade who was clearly outraged as she ducked under the cooler for cover.

“Rafe, just fucking drop it and let’s go! You’re wasting shit at this point,” she urged also throwing Topper a stern look to get moving.

“This isn’t over!” Rafe roared at the group as Topper sped up the engine again.

“That’s right, just ride along you fucking Kooks! And take your hoes with you!” JJ shouted.

You threw a glare his way at the vulgar name he called you and stuck up middle fingers his way, sailing off.

Fucking tool.

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

chapter four

tags: @starkeybaby @obxlife @everydayimfangirling @iamaunicorn4704 @tangledinsparkles @poguesrforlife @thx-quxxn @obxmxybxnk @rororo06 @poguesforlife @ilymarkchan

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I don’t know why I’m taking so long in writing for Pedro’s softest characters - Catfish and Marcus Pike. Still working on the next chapter of Sunshine, so hopefully I’ll have it ready for you for Thursday!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale

—***—

“Francisco! Get out of there! Did you even wash your hands!?” You threw the towel at him as he scurried away from the bowls of cookie dough set out on the island. He was laughing as he shoved another chunk into his mouth. He could eat this shit forever; it was so good.

“But you know I love it so much.” He mumbled as he chewed, his smile getting bigger. God, he loved Baking Sunday, it was his favorite day of the week. The house always smelled good, you always baked tasty shit, and something about you in that waist apron did a number on him. Yeah, these were good days.

Last night he had gone out with the guys for a few beers and when he said he was heading home early, they all started ragging on him. It was all in good fun, they knew about Sundays and knew that they were going to reap the rewards, too. But even if they were being dicks, he didn’t care, he wasn’t going to wake up late on baking day. He leaned up against the far counter, looking at you as he swallowed, already planning on his next covert theft operation for more.

He might have the brain of a military tactician, but you weren’t no slouch yourself. You were ready.

“Hey Cat?”

“Yeah mijita?”

“You see that bowl the table?” He nodded. “Go open it for me.”

He pushed himself off the counter and sauntered over, thinking he was going to get his taste even sooner than he thought. But when he opened it, it was filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookie dough – his favorite. He could feel his mouth watering at the sight.

“Now that’s yours, so keep your fingers out of my bowls.” You smiled while pointing at him and he groaned in pleasure. You must have made it last night when he was out, which made the most sense because if he was annoying now with his little sneak attacks, he would have climbed you like a tree to get this whole big ass bowl. He walked around the island and yanked open the utensil drawer and pulled out a spoon.

“Oh, now you’re going to get a spoon? You’re a dick, Cat.” There was no malice in your words, and you said them with a laugh. As he walked behind you, he laid a sloppy kiss on the back of your neck as a thank you. Your smile got bigger, a little shiver running down your spine. God, he always managed to turn you on in the littlest of ways.

Frankie sat at the table, eat his prize as you stood at the island, almost zen-like, as you rolled out the different doughs into small balls. The calming familiarity of your movements, combined with the sunlight filling the kitchen, made for a moment of peace you found practically nowhere else but in Frankie’s arms at night. Here was your heaven and you reveled in it.

When you two had saw the house, the cozy craftsman cottage was perfect in every way except the kitchen. But given it had everything else you both wanted, you felt you could compromise and work with what you had. Six months after you and Frankie had moved in, you went away for a weekend with your best friend and came home to a completely renovated kitchen. The boys came and helped him get it done and you cried so hard, he was worried that you were upset at first. Of course, he learned later than night after everyone left how thankful you really were.

As you walked through the familiar routine of Baking Sunday, you hummed a small tune to yourself. One of Frankie’s bigger splurges had been on the professional level oven, letting you bake three or four batches of cookies at once. Soon the mounds of raw dough were turned into warm and gooey cookies laying on the cooling racks.

You began to knead out the dough for the week’s bread when your phone pinged at you. You looked over and saw it was a message from Benny, asking for a couple of loaves of your bread. You smiled.

“Cat, baby, can you get me two more bowls from that cabinet?” You pointed with your toe. Then your phone pinged again, and you saw it was from Tom. “You better make that six bowls.”

“Why so many?” Frankie grunted as he squatted down and began pulling out what you needed.

“Benny and Tom both just texted wanting bread and I’m going to say that Pope and Will are going to text soon, too. Might as well be prepared.

“Well, will my favorite baker need a helping hand?” He brought over the bowls and set them on the counter, giving you a kiss on the temple. You smiled and nodded. Together, you got the bowls prepped and seven loaves of bread ready to rise. As you worked, you saw the texts from the other two and smiled while shaking your head.

“Maybe you should start a group chat so they can send you their orders all at once instead of whenever the mood strikes them.” Frankie covered the last bowl and placed it on the counter under the sunny window. You could have proved them faster in the warming tray of the oven, but you liked giving them the full hour to rise so you could get your workspace cleaned up.

“Mm, maybe.” You hummed as you started the dishwasher and began to wipe down the counters. You weren’t a messy baker, but you hated a dirty space to work in. When the kitchen was cleaned and ready to go, you glanced at the clock and saw you still had half an hour left. Frankie was turned away from you and you could see his back muscles moving under his shirt as he dried the last of the trays. God, you loved his back.

Without hesitation, you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before nestling your cheek there. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the cotton against your cheek and you sighed contently. Frankie put the last of the trays on the counter and toss the towel in the dish rack before turning around in your arms.

“Hey.”

He leaned against the counter and wrapped his arms around you as you leaned further into him, head resting on his chest. There were times in his life that he felt he would never have moments or days like this again and here he was, experiencing them regularly. He was thrilled to his toes and he bent his head to kiss the top of yours before resting his chin on the spot. The hazy sun of the summer afternoon filtered through the windows, creating a cocoon, where time stopped, and the world centered only on the two of you. Here the silence was comfortable, and you were surrounded by the smell of yeast and sugar and Frankie. This was as close to heaven as you two would ever get without dying.

As the magical aura of the moment surrounded you, you tipped your head up and propped your chin on his chest to look at him. This man had you wrapped around his finger, although he was likely to say the same thing about you. His soft curls rested on his forehead, free of the worry frown it sometimes held. The scruff along his jawline had hints of gray, as did his hair, but you loved it. It gave him a soft look that fit him so well.

As you continued to drink him in, he smiled at you and his dimple appeared. God, that was so sexy to you and you couldn’t stop yourself from raising up on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on it. It deepened as he grinned at your touch. He expected you to kiss him on the lips next, but you instead placed a small kiss on his jaw, letting his beard tickle your lips and face.

You positioned another kiss on the other side of his face, then another on his chin, and a final one on his nose. You pulled back and he smiled at you, his eyes sparkling with love and a little lust. He bent his head to capture your lips, but he was gentle about it. He followed up with a series of pecks against your lips, ones that always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. You moved your hands from his back to the front of his shirt, gripping the soften cotton.

Under your fingers, you heard his heart beginning to beat faster and you knew yours was matching his pace. He kissed you again, harder this time and you respond in kind before pulling back to look at him. The glimmer of lust in his eyes was brighter and his eyes were darker, the soft brown nearly black.

Letting go of his shirt, you pushed yourself out of his arms and stepped back. His arms dropped to his sides and you could see his chest rising as his breaths grew heavier. His eyes were glued to your chest, where your pebbled nipples stood in stark contrast against your thin tee shirt. For all his bravado in many other things, it never failed to surprise Frankie that you were so turned on by him, that your moans, whimpers, and screams were his doing.

You give him a flirty smile as you turned to walk around the kitchen island, letting your fingertips glide along the cool marble, and you walked over to the kitchen table. Leaning against it, you crossed your arms under your breasts, pushing them up and from where you stood, you could see a bulge forming in Frankie’s pants.

“Cat, baby?” The coyness of your smile was matched by your tone of voice.

“Yeah mijita?” His voice had taken on a raspy edge to it, sending a little shiver across your skin.

“Come here, I want to show you something.” You didn’t need to tell him twice and Frankie practically leapt over the island to stand in front of you. You laughed at his grin, akin to a little boy at Christmas time. You moved to sit on the table, letting your legs naturally fall open as you placed your hands on the table behind you. Frankie wedged himself between your thighs and you sighed as you felt your jean skirt bunch up at the top of your thighs. The warm air of the kitchen felt almost cool against the heat of your core.

“Mijita, you are killing me softly over here.” He slightly bent down so his hands were flat against the tabletop and his lips level with your own. You shimmed forward a bit so that the part of you most aching for him could feel his hardness and in return so he could feel how much he turned you on. Frankie groaned at the contact and he rolled his hips to rub up against you. You lolled your head forward to rest it against his, noses touching gently. Despite being warm, you body broke out in goosebumps as pleasure gentle coursed through your body.

After a few more rolls of his hips, Frank angled his face to kiss you, tongue darting out to lick along your lower lip. You sighed as you opened to him and as your tongues began to dance against each other, you could taste the sugar and chocolate of the cookie dough. You kissed passionately until you moved away, needing to take a breath. His plush lips tried to chase you, but you tilted your head and instead he found purchase along your beck, just under your ear.

As you drew a ragged breath, your pleasure crowding out the air in your lungs, you moan when you feel him drag his lips down your neck in those soft kisses that you so adored from him. Your nipples had grown harder and your core wetter with each touch of his skin against yours and you moved your hands from the table to his wrists, needing to feel him to anchor yourself.

“Cat.” His name came out on a sigh and as he continued to kiss down your neck, Frankie was certain he was going to lose it if you said his name again. He instead focused on covering your neck with kisses and he was grateful that you were wearing a v-neck shirt so that he could continue down into your cleavage, where he dipped his tongue between your breasts. He could taste the faint saltiness of your skin, sweat from bread making.

You moved your hands to draw up your shirt, but he stops you, his warm palms almost too hot against your wrists. He lifted his head so he could look you in the eyes – the brown in the them completely gone by now – and his teasing smile seeming almost predatory. He was plotting something, and you grinned back, letting yourself fall back on your palms. You knew he could see your breasts thrusted towards him and you bit back a smile when you heard the growl deep in his chest.

“Patience mijita.” He pulled back, taking you in – a slight sheen of sweat now covering your body and he could see the crotch of your pink panties nearly soaked through. His smile grew wider when he saw it and his mouth watered, wanting to taste everything you had to offer. He stood back and drew himself up to his fill height and you shivered in want.

Before you could admire him fully, he dropped to his knees, placing those blazing hot hands on your calves. You sat up and reached behind you to untie your apron, but he squeezed your leg.

“Stop.” It was a command, but it was soft, and you stopped, an eyebrow raised. “Leave it on.”

“Oh?” Now both eyebrows were raised and you face was split with a shit-eating grin. You could see the blush creeping into his cheeks. Your voice had a rasp to it that sent shivers down to Frankie’s toes, making them curl inside his boots. But he shrugged as you put your hands back onto the tabletop, eager to see what he has planned.

He slowly let his hands drag up your legs until they rested on your thighs, the heat practically scorching the sensitive skin there. You widened your legs, hoping to encourage him higher, but then he took his hands off you and you groaned at the lost of them. But you were moaning again when you saw him push the apron up and you reached your hand out to hold the bunched-up fabric in your hand, out of his way. He smiled.

He brought his hand up to the waistband of your skirt and popped open the button. You helped by shifting your hips so he could drag the worn denim over your hips and down your legs. Without the fabric around your hips, he brought up his hands and placed them against your inner thighs. He pressed and your legs went wider.

You dropped your head back and let out a breathy moan as you felt Frankie’s tongue slide up the cloth of your panty-covered slit. The extra pressure on your clit made your hips jerk and you could feel his smile against you. He did it again and then a third time and by now your panties were so soaked, they clung to your core.

He continued to pleasure you with his tongue, the once smooth fabric feeling rough against your sensitive clit. Suddenly he stopped, and you whimpered, knowing you were so close to your climax. You opened your eyes and looked down at him, noticing that he was watching you with lust-filled lust orbs. Frankie raised his hands to your hips again and tugged at your panties. Dropping the apron, you pushed up on your arms to give you leverage to raise your pelvis and he swiftly dragged the cloth down your legs.

The minute they landed on the ground, Frankie dove under the apron and back between your legs, licking furiously at your clit and the sudden rush of pleasure sent your whole-body vibrating. You body bowed forward and your hands, seemingly on their own, yanked at the fabric to grab onto his head.

The fine hairs of his head felt like silk against your skin, almost as silky as his tongue on you. As you began to shiver from the building of your climax, he moved a hand from your thigh and sunk two fingers into your core, you wet heat surrounding him. The soft fabric of the apron brushed against his neck and ears and added with the other sensations, his cock throbbed painfully.

“Oh god, Cat!” His name ripped from your throat on a sob as you raced towards your orgasm, almost scared of how strong the waves of pleasure were that rolled through you. He pumped his hand a few more times as he sucked on the very part of your anatomy that screamed for attention and you screamed as the tension inside of you broke. Frankie could feel your walls clench around his fingers, almost painfully, and he lapped up everything you gave him. Your hips jerked violently as your aftershocks rolled through you in quick succession.

After what seemed like forever, you untangled your fingers from his hair and pushed him away; the sensitivity you felt was almost painful. He rocked back on his heels and looked up at you, so incredibly turned on by the flush that colored your skin and god, that keening scream you gave when you came just sent a thousand watts of pleasure to his cock. He was so hard, and he wanted nothing more than bury himself so deep inside of you that he felt nothing else in this world.

He spent years chasing highs – the military, his helicopter, even the coke. But none seemed parallel to how he felt with you and Frankie was certain he could bed you every day until he died, and he still wouldn’t get enough of you. He stood on shaky legs, every heaving pant out of your mouth making his skin feel tighter and hotter.

You head, which had been hanging down, rolled to the side and then backwards so that you were looking up at him. God, this man was so beautiful to you and watching the lust on his face as he stood there just looking at you was intoxicating. No man had ever made you feel so wanton and hedonistic as him.

You reached out an arm to drag your hand across the bulge in his pants and the heat of his erection felt scorching through his jeans. His hips jerked at your touch and you could hear the hiss of his breath as he sucked inwards.

“Where do you want your cock, Cat?” You raised your eyebrow at him, and he groaned. You were the girl next door especially with that damned apron on, but god, your mouth was something out of his most deprave fantasies. And you knew it. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

He groaned at the pun as he moved forward. You grabbed the front of his shirt to bring him close and he slightly stumbled against you, that heavy erection pressed up where you wanted him most. But you were always a generous soul.

“What do you want, Cat? Do you want me to suck your cock or do you want to fuck my pussy?” He moaned through gritted teeth. God, you weren’t playing fair.

“Pussy. I want to fuck you so bad.” His eyes were closed now as he was willing everything in him not to come just yet, he had to feel you surrounding him. He wanted to feel the wet heat that haunted his dreams. He didn’t need to tell you twice as your hands made quick work of his belt and then his pants. You reached inside his boxers and you pulled out his erection.

You let your hand ghost over his cock and Frankie grabbed your wrist, the grip almost painful. You drew back and again, propped yourself onto the tabletop, pulling up the apron and widened your thighs in silent invitation. He took it eagerly and notched his head against you. You looked into each other’s eyes as he slowly filled you, your walls stretching almost deliciously.

When he bottomed out, you both paused for a moment and you bowed your heads towards each other so your lips could brush against each other. Frankie wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer to him so that you were flush from chest to crotch. You brought your hands to his upper

You rolled your hips against him, flexing against his thick cock. He took the hint and pulled back before plunging back into you. You groaned at the sensation; the sound captured by his lips. Soon his easy thrusts began to pick up steam and you pulled away from him to catch your breath, which he robbed you of with every movement of his hips.

Soon you could feel your pleasure building from gentle laps to cresting waves and you knew he felt it too because his hips began to lose their steady rhythm. You tightened your thighs at his waist and your arms at his shoulders.

“Cat. Make me come, I want to feel you.” The words came out on a breathy moan and he buried his face into your neck, nodding in response. He dropped a hand between your bodies and brushed his fingers against your clit. Your moaned. “Yes, like that, baby.”

“Fuck, mijita, you’re killing me.” He ground out the words as he began to thrust faster, his fingers matching pace with his cock. “I fucking love you, you know that?”

“Yes!” The waved broke and your orgasm washed over you, curling your toes. As you bowed into him, your fingers clutched his arms even harder and you both knew your nails were going to leave marks. “Cat, I love you so much, oh god!”

Like before, your aftershocks tore through your words stutter through you. You could feel Frankie stiffening as he came, his groan deep and guttural. As the last of your orgasm petered out, you dropped your head to his shoulder, and he did the same to you. Your heavy breaths mixed together between you.

After several long minutes, Frankie felt like sensation was coming back to his body and he slowly withdrew from you, even as your thighs tightened against the loss. He kissed you gently on the forehead after he pulled away from you, before walking over and grabbing a paper towel.

After gently wetting it, he came back over to clean you up and you pressed gentle kisses to his temple and cheek as he did so. He returned to wash his hands after slipping his cock back inside his pants. You sat a few minutes longer to let sensation return to your legs before sliding off the table to put your panties and skirt back on.

Frankie came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. You laid your hands on his forearms and bumped your head against his. You stood like that for only a moment before the timer pinged at you, causing you both to jump at the shrill sound in the quiet kitchen. You laughed.

“Hey Cat?”

“Yeah mijita?”

“Care to give me a helping hand?”

“Always.”

#francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #fanfic #triple frontier

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anari3l · 4 years

Text

stirrings

WORDS: 2249 /// PAIRING: Arthur Morgan x Reader (Harlow as surname) /// Part of ongoing fic, Humors of Whiskey /// also posted on AO3

Humors of Whiskey [1] [2] [3] /// Wildflowers [1] [2]

“Barnaby.”

The dappled grey Norfolk Roadster whickered, bobbing his head up and down as you said the name, a large smile on your face.

“Barnaby.” Arthur’s voice held a hint of amusement, almost a laugh, as he repeated the name. The stablehand smiled brightly, leading the horse towards the center of the stable.

“I like it,” you hummed, taking the reins from the stable hand and leading your brand new horse out to the sunny Valentine street. “Doesn’t he look like a Barnaby?”

“If y’say so,” Arthur hummed, cigarette between his lips.

“Take care now!” the stablehand bidded as you left the building.

The Norfolk had put you back almost $200. Plus a brand new saddle, blanket, tack, and saddlebags. You had lost the saddle, and all the gear as well when you left Eugene, nursing a dislocated shoulder on the back of Arthur’s horse, and since then, had been borrowing horses from the camp or riding with Arthur into town when needed. You missed the freedom of having your own horse, however. Since you had turned sixteen, you had always had your own horse to care for.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you started, petting your hand along Barnaby’s neck.

“Quit thankin’ me. I ain’t done nothin’.”

You smiled, running your hand over Barnaby’s neck some more, fingers toying with his long mane. “You helped me, patched me up when I hurt my shoulder, took care of Eugene … brought me into town, so I could buy a horse. You’ve helped plenty.”

“Agh, that ain’t worth thankin’ me for,” he groaned, running a hand up into his hair as he removed his hat.

You sighed, pulling yourself into your saddle, adjusting the skirt you wore as you settled, reins in hand. “When are you gonna realize you’re a good man, Arthur. I mean, even as kids you always kicked yourself.”

“Maybe one day.”

He looked away, down to his hands holding the reins as Calliope shifted beneath him, hoofing at the dirt. You could see the self deprecation oozing off his shoulders as he sat in the saddle.

“One day, I’ll make you realize it,” you groaned, kicking Barnaby into a trot. “I’ll meet ya back at camp.”

***

“Miss Harlow!”

You jumped, shifting to lean against your arm as you looked over your shoulder. You had been quietly reading a book against a tree, Jack sitting beside you making flower chains. Miss Grimshaw was striding forward, the stern look of your mother figure ever recognizable. She rarely used your name; you had grown used to her calling you dear or dearie, and the mere sound of it always had you at attention.

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw?”

The stern gaze lessened, her features softening as she neared, looking down to you with a small smile. “Dutch wants to speak with you, dear,” she smiled, running a hand over Jack’s hair as he held a flower chain up to her.

“Thank you, Mister Marston,” she smiled, bending at the waist to accept the gift.

“Miss Harlow’s got one too!” Jack smiled. “And I made one for momma!”

“Go on, then,” you smiled, urging the child in the direction of camp. “Your momma’s gonna love it.”

You rose to your feet, watching Jack run off to Abigail as Miss Grimshaw tutted. “Off with you, now,” she urged.

You smiled, and headed for Dutch’s tent. Arthur, Bill, and Charles were sitting around outside, listening as Dutch spoke, cigar in hand.

“Mornin’ boys,” you smiled, folding the book into your hands as you stepped up.

“Ah, our little doe, Miss Harlow,” Dutch smiled. “The mastermind for this robbery!”

“You found this out?” Bill asked a bit incredulously. You had grown used to the men viewing you as nothing more than a wash maid over the years. Dutch knew better. You may have worn a skirt, but you were just as valuable as an enforcer and scout as Arthur and Charles.

“Yes I did,” you hummed, jutting your chin up. “Ready to head out?”

“You would be correct, dear,” Dutch smiled. “Good luck. I trust you can handle these men.”

Charles and Arthur smirked as they stood, starting for their horses. You met Bill’s eyes, smiling as you stepped past, setting your book on the camp table. “Of course I can, Dutch!” you smiled back to the gang leader. “Keep up, Williamson!”

Arthur helped you onto his horse, settling you behind him on the saddle. “So, how do you want to play this?”

You glanced over to Charles and Bill. “The man who gave me the information said it’d be guarded pretty well,” you started. “I’ll play the damsel, get them to stop, and you three take out the guards.”

“How much is supposed to be on this coach?” Bill asked over his shoulder.

“It’s payroll for some shipping company in Saint Denis,” you answered. “Driving through the Heartlands to Lemoyne. From the sounds of it: a lot. Should be able to catch it just over the state line.”

“When the shootin’ starts --” Arthur started.

“Run for cover. I know,” you interjected with a scoff. “This ain’t my first robbery, Arthur.”

You felt him chuckle, your hands placed on his sides to steady you in the saddle. “No, it ain’t.”

The hill you stopped on overlooked a main road, the Lemoyne state sign off to your left. You dropped from Arthur’s horse, stepping up to the ridge as you looked up the road. “Alright, boys, they’re comin’ through,” you hummed, turning and smiling to the men. “Wish me luck!”

***

“I got a girl in Berryville! Can’t be screwed cuz she’s too damn ill! I don’t go down there no more. There’s a blue horse laying outside her door!”

You smiled brightly, leaning into Karen’s side as the two of you sat on the log in front of the fire, both of you leaning heavily against the other, a bottle of whiskey being passed between the two of you. Your voices were loud enough to be heard throughout camp, but somehow, even in the drunken haze the two of you had fallen into, the others hadn’t told you to shut the hell up. Yet.

You and the boys had returned that afternoon after robbing the payroll stage, pockets full and a smile gracing Bill Williamson’s face as he admitted you did a good job.

It was Karen’s bright idea to drink and have fun. It had been a while, and you agreed it had to help lift the camp’s spirits somewhat, especially when Trelawney’s information about Sean being moved by bounty hunters had entered the camp gossip stream earlier that day.

“No, no!” you laughed, waving a hand in front of your face as you screwed up the line, laughing raucously with Karen. “I got a girl in Berryville!”

“Can’t get it in cuz she won’t stay still!” Karen finished before taking another deep swig of whiskey.

Arthur sighed, leaning on his elbows at the wooden table. The poker game had dissolved almost an hour ago, cards and chips stowed away. Dutch’s tent had been closed, but the lamp was still lit, and those still awake lazed around the fires, watching the stars. “Shut them up, please,” John sighed as he landed in the seat beside Arthur.

“Give it a try,” Arthur smirked, turning from watching your duet with Karen. “You and I both know that bottle will be thrown at our heads.”

“It’s one in the mornin’,” John groaned, leaning against the table.

Arthur groaned, pushing from the table with an agreeing nod. “Alright, alright,” he waved Marston off as he stood.

You were practically laying against Karen’s shoulder, watching the dying fire as you sang mismatched verses of O, Mollie.

“They say I drink whiskey, my money’s my own! And them that don’t like me can leave me alone … ” You laughed, hiccupping into your hand as Karen hummed along.

“Alright, ladies,” Arthur’s voice startled you as he stepped up, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in your hand. “It’s gettin’ real late.”

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry,” you carried on, a large smile on your face, hand tightening on the bottle of whiskey as he tried to take it away. “I’ll drink when I’m dry! And when I get thirsty ... “ you trailed off, watching as Arthur successfully pried the bottle from your hand and dropped it to the ground. “I’ll … I … forgot the words ...”

Arthur laughed, ducking his head with a small shake of disbelief as he watched you look around your seat for something your drunken brain made up. Karen hiccupped beside you, pushing to her feet. “Goodnight, Mister Morgan!” she smiled, voice much louder than normal, as she leaned into his side and bopped her finger to his nose. “Goodnight!”

Arthur caught her around the waist as she stepped by, guiding her until she started to walk towards her tent. “Alright, come on,” he started, reaching down for your arm.

You stumbled as you got to your feet, leaning against his chest with a hand laid over his suspender strap. “I think … I’m drunk,” you laughed, pushing off of Arthur as you tried to step away.

Arthur’s arm wrapped around you. “Again,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Ain’t ever gon’ be surprised when the two of ya are together. Drinkin’ the camp dry.”

You laughed, turning to face him as he neared, wrapping his arm around your middle. “You should join us sometime, Arthur!” you started, jabbing your index finger into his chest to punctuate your words. “Have some fun! Stop fretting over robberies … and Dutch’s words … and us girls.”

“I don’t fret,” Arthur argued. “But you are sloshed, sweetheart. Time for bed.”

You pouted, stumbling as you stepped away from Arthur. “Rrriiiigggghhhttt,” you droned, waving a hand in the air as you walked. “Frettin’ over me … runnin’ after Mary … helpin’ raise Jack … always frettin’.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as he watched you. Stumbling forward, hand landing against the bark of the large oak tree, you bent over at the waist, vomiting up your stomach contents into the dirt.

“Alright, that’s it,” he sighed, stepping up and pulling your hair out of the way. “Ya need t’ sleep. And eat. Come on.”

“See,” you started, wiping your chin on your sleeve. “You’re frettin’ again.”

“Sure.”

He guided you to your tent, making you sit down on the edge of your cot before standing and producing a chunk of bread from his satchel, wrapped in an embroidered handkerchief. “Eat.” He didn’t order, but even in your drunken haze, you could hear the sternness in his tone; the caring nature that was Arthur Morgan. “You’re gonna have a hell of a headache in the mornin’.”

You picked at the bread, chewing on it slowly as you sat on your cot, head already pounding. “I … heard ya saw her … Mary … in town.”

Arthur nodded, standing at the opening of your tent. “Yeah, I did,” he answered. “And her brother, Jamie.”

“She was always nice,” you hummed, tossing the half eaten chunk of bread onto the small wooden crate acting as a table and reaching for your small pillow.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Get some sleep,” he added after a moment, pulling the blanket over your shoulder as you slumped onto your pillow, snores almost immediately filling the silence of the tent.

***

“Son of a bitch,” you groaned, leaning bodily against the support pole of your tent.

Arthur glanced up from his spot by the cookfire, bending at his waist to pour himself a cup of coffee. You stood against your tent, hand placed over your eyes as the morning sunlight hit you. Your hair and clothing was disheveled from a drunken sleep, and the pounding in your head was worse than Uncle’s snoring.

“Mornin’, sleepin’ beauty,” Arthur smiled, stepping up and holding out his coffee to you.

“Shut up, Arthur,” you groaned, taking the cup.

“Strauss should have some tonic for that headache o’ yours. Or I could go see if Pearson’s got any fresh offal for ya …”

At your visible retch, Arthur chuckled and trailed off. You covered your mouth, wiping the coffee from your lip with the back of your hand before looking up to glare at the man in front of you.

“You’re mean.”

He shrugged, taking the now empty cup from you. “Could say I’m frettin’ over ya ‘cause you drank Uncle under the table last night.”

You groaned, shoving the heels of your hands into your eyes. “Shut up, Arthur.”

He chuckled heartily, relaxing back as he hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I’m sure it’ll happen again,” he smirked, nodding to the main campfire where Karen sat with Javier and John. “We’re headin’ out to find Sean.”

You managed to chuckle, squinting up at him in the morning sun. “He’ll have the entire camp drunk if you bring him back.”

“Almost a guarantee,” Arthur smirked.

You stepped past him, patting a hand against his shoulder. “You’re frettin’ over us all again,” you mumbled as you stepped past him.

“Only you,” he countered. “Better eat something for that hangover.”

“I know,” you groaned. “I’ve been drunk before.”

“It ain’t a camp secret, sweetheart.”

You looked up to him, a small smile lighting your face. “You’re mean,” you repeated, with a small chuckle. “But you’re … right. I guess. Go get Sean back, Mister Morgan. Fret over someone else for a bit.”

“Will do,” he smiled.

#arthur morgan x reader #humors of whiskey #rdr2 fanfic

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reidingandwriting · 4 years

Text

Sunflower

Word Count: ~1700 words

Ship: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mention of alcohol. Besides that, complete FLUFF

Summary: you had the power to control nature, and you were especially connected to all the trees, plants, and flowers. what happens when loki meets the girl with a crown of daisies?

It was no secret Loki had a problem trusting anyone. His own insecurities, mixed with the feelings of mistrust from his father, he wasn’t one to trust easy. His back was never to anyone, and he always preferred to sit or stand where he could see everyone in the room. At Tony’s parties, you would find him upstairs, eyes watching the crowd, lightly swirling his drink in the glass, never taking a sip. Midgardian alcohol didn’t have much of an effect on him, but he refused to put himself in a situation where his senses were altered.

Loki often found himself in the woods behind the Avengers compound. It was peaceful, with the Avengers seldom coming out that far. It was the one place Loki found complete silence and could be entirely alone- until he saw you.

You were sitting cross-legged in the grass, barefoot, clad in a sage green dress that hung loosely off your body. On top of your head was a crown made of flowers, daisies, Loki noticed. Your hands laid flat against the grass, and dozens of tiny wildflowers sprung up where your fingers were. You looked up when you saw a hint of a shadow, and jumped when you heard a voice.

“Who the hell are you?” A bush suddenly shot out of the ground in front of you, shielding you from Loki’s sight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here. Particularly someone I’ve never met before. I must ask, how did you get here? Stark’s security around this place is nearly impossible to bypass.”

“I was invited. Mr. Stark brought me here this morning. I, I wasn’t ready to meet everyone yet. So he showed me the woods, where I’d be more comfortable.” You slowly stood up and Loki watched as the bush parted so you could walk towards him. “It’s nice to meet you. Loki, right?”

“How did you..?”

“You’re more well known than you thought, Loki.” You walked past him, flowers blooming where your feet met the grass. “You caused some pretty strong earthly damage, entire ecosystems destroyed in some parts. Not just you, of course, you’ve all done your share. And that’s where I come in, for correction.” Loki couldn’t help but watch you, entranced.

“So, what? You’re like Mother Nature?” You spun around when you heard the patronizing tone in Loki’s voice, and your eyes narrowed. Loki felt something wrapped around his ankle and suddenly, there was a sharp tug and Loki dangled upside down from a tree, the branch wrapped like a whip around his ankle.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You turned back around and walked towards the compound.

“Are you not going to help me down?” Loki called out to you. You continued walking and raised your hand, sending Loki to the ground with a loud thud.

“You’re welcome!” You smirked to yourself as you walked to the compound, leaving Loki laying on the ground.

———

After your introduction to the team, Loki learned your name was Y/N. His little jab at you being Mother Nature turned out to hold some truth to it. You had the power to manipulate the Earth and its weather, but your strongest points were plants- this covered everything from the smallest blade of grass to the largest tree. You had apologized to Loki, surprising him and yourself.

“I apologize for our meeting earlier, Loki. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I shouldn’t have. However, maybe next time you won’t doubt my powers.” And with a smile, you were off, following Tony as he gave you the tour of the compound. Loki watched as you walked away, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Loki often found himself in the wooded spot you first met. While Loki used to prefer being alone (and still preferred it with most of the team), he enjoyed your company greatly. During the next few weeks, the god had grown rather fond of you.

~~~

“Hello, Loki.” You walked up to the raven haired man, standing beside him as he observed the crowd below him. “You know, it’s pretty hard to socialize from up here.” Loki rolled his eyes, but you saw the amused glint in his eyes.

“It’s kind of the purpose, Y/N.” Loki hummed and you took the glass from his hand, setting it on a nearby table. “What are you doing?”

“Do you trust me?” Your e/c eyes locked with his.

“Much more than I should.” You smiled and took Loki’s hand, leading him out of the compound.

~~~

That night, you had lead Loki to the woods, the moon shining bright and lighting up the way. You both sat in the grass, exchanging conversation and enjoying each other’s company. Loki could feel you chipping away at the walls he’s been building his entire life- and he found he didn’t mind it.

———

“What on Earth are you doing?” Loki asked, glancing up from his book. You two were in your spot, Loki leaning against a tree and you in the middle of the sunny patch of grass, surrounded by sunflowers. He was trying to focus on a book you insisted he read, but each time he caught your gaze on him, his focus was slipping.

“I made you something.” You smiled as you held your hands behind your back. “Close your eyes, please.”

“Absolutely not.” Loki returned to his book and you huffed.

“Don’t you trust me?” And with a sigh, Loki closed his book.

“Unfortunately.” You grinned when Loki closed his eyes, and you crawled forward, stopping as you kneeled between his legs. You took the sunflower crown from behind your back and gently rested it up on his head.

“Beautiful.” You smiled. Loki opened his eyes as he felt the slight weight on his head. “I made you a crown. Like mine.” You explained when you saw the confused look Loki gave you. “It’s not as luxurious or glamorous as anything you could have on Asgard, but I made it with sunflowers. Your favorite.“

“Don’t be silly. I’ll treasure it forever, darling.” Loki blushed from the nickname he gave you, and you grinned, the sun becoming brighter. As you two stayed out in the sun, you had shifted to where you were leaned against a tree, Loki’s head in your lap as he read his book. Your fingers worked braids through his hair as you weaved flowers into the braids, the baby blue and purple wildflowers a stark contrast against his black hair. The steady rhythm of your fingers put Loki at ease, and the gentle breeze mixed with the setting sun relaxed you. You two stayed outside, enjoying each other’s company until the sun in the sky had been replaced by the moon.

“Loki?” Your voice was soft and tired, interrupting the silence of the woods.

“Yes, Y/N?” Loki asked, moon shining in his beautifully blue eyes.

“I really like spending time with you.” Loki’s heart swelled at your sleepy confession.

“I’m quite fond of our times together too, Sunflower.” You smiled from the nickname, cheeks pink from blushing.

“Sunflower, hmm? I believe that name’s more fitting for you, with your crown.” Loki’s hand twitched and you felt a light weight on your head.

“I believe the name fits both of us now.” You brought one of your hands to your head, smiling when you felt the petals. Loki couldn’t help but smile as he looked up at you. Every little thing made you so happy. You were like a young child, in awe of everything the world had to offer. And Loki did his best not to let anyone dull the light in your eyes. You both sat in a comfortable silence until you spoke again.

“When I got my powers, I isolated myself. I constantly focused on my work and I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. And when Tony brought me in, I felt like an outsider.” You paused, gently twirling the ends of Loki’s hair around your fingers. “You made me feel safe and welcome, I can’t thank you enough.”

“It was my pleasure, Y/N.” Loki stood up, a few wildflowers falling from his hair as he offered his hand to you. “We should head inside before it gets much later. May I walk you to your room?” You took Loki’s hand with a smile, standing up.

“You may.” Loki walked you to your room, neither of you paying the rest of the team any attention as you made conversation.

“Were they wearing flower crowns?” Tony asked, looking at Steve who nodded.

“And Loki had flowers braided in his hair.” Thor watched the two of you until he could see you no longer. “It looks like Lady Y/N has made a friend out of him.”

“I think I preferred when Y/N was dangling Loki from a tree.” Bucky spoke and the men in the room agreed before focusing on the television again.

In your room, Loki was seated beside you as you laid down. Loki took the flower crown off your head, setting it on the nightstand.

“You’re tired, Y/N. Sleep.” Loki started to stand up and you grabbed his hand.

“Wait.” You pulled Loki to you, motioning for him to come closer. Loki bent down to your level, freezing as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Loki.”

“Goodnight, Sunflower.” And with that, Loki left your room and returned to his own room. Unbeknownst to you both, Loki was in your dreams and you in his. The next morning Loki woke up, surprised to see a vase of sunflowers beside his bed. A note was tucked into the flowers and Loki carefully took it, smiling as he was greeted by your delicate handwriting.

‘I apologize if I’m overstepping, but I’d love to take you on a proper date. Meet me outside once you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.

-Sunflower’

This one date lead to another, followed by many more dates planned by you and Loki. As you laid asleep beside him, Loki couldn’t believe he had been fortunate enough to meet you. Mere months ago, you had met each other and neither of you thought you’d end in this position. But as you curled into Loki’s chest and the steady pattern of your breathing lulled him to sleep, there was nowhere you’d rather be. When sunflowers can’t find the sun, they’ll often turn towards each other as they grow. When you couldn’t find your sun, you found Loki. And he found you. His sunflower. And he’d be facing you every step of the way, for the rest of your lives.

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