#i swear to fucking god. it is JANUARY 2. TOO EARLY.

[browzerhistory]

FERRYMAN SPOTTED. UH OH

#when i said new year new me. this is not what i meant. nobody look at me #the thing is we get a lot of short term fragments right. and the main way we know theyre fragments is they disappear quick. #well fragments never give us the weird body dysphoria/dysmorphia thing we get qith actual headmates #we just got a very severe 'why is my flesh back didnt i mortify it yrs ago' feeling. AND THEN IT LEFT #i swear to fucking god. it is JANUARY 2. TOO EARLY.

[foli-vora]

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

my only wish: part two

jack daniels x single mum f!reader

summary: typical hallmark movie. he’s never been one for christmas - he hates the tacky decorations and the ear drilling music, but maybe the owner of a small town bakery and her children will change that.

warnings: this man. this man is a warning. this is soft. S O F T. i have heart eyes. swearing, more minecraft shit, almost kisses, yearning, the good stuff hits next chap (18+)

word count: 5866

a/n: gif by moi. so this is a combo of part 2 & 3 and it's fucking late because i'm so fucking busy and have fallen so fucking behind i want to cry. i will forever apologise for the utter shitstorm this month has turned out to be. catch me fighting off the burn out til at least mid january lmao. this made me so disgustingly soft. enjoy!

His first morning, after an admittedly restless sleep, he was wide awake and ready to go at 6am – his body clock just used to waking early to get a start on the working day. He takes a shower, has a coffee, wipes down the already clean counters and stares outside the kitchen window for an hour.

He flicks through the books left behind by previous tourists lining some of the shelves in vague interest, but none appeal enough to him to laze about on the couch as he had hoped. He flicks through the channels on the mounted TV, but finds nothing intriguing enough to watch. He moves for the porch swing, the icy air biting at his cheeks, and rocks in the creaky seat, trying desperately to just be.

It’s not too bad, he supposes. It’s a calm he doesn’t get to experience a lot, especially seeing as he constantly bounces between Kentucky and Manhattan. There’s not a whole lot of nature to soak up from his penthouse in the city, and he never bothers to hang around long at his ranch at home. When was the last time he put his riding boots on? 

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

No, it’s not bad at all. He’s been in much, much worse predicaments. Maybe it was a good thing to put his feet up after doing back to back missions for God knows how long. Lord knows his body needs a damn good rest, but how could he shut his mind off? 

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

It’s only for a few weeks, and then he’ll be able to dive right back into it. Maybe Champ will already have something lined up for him. Did Rum file those papers correctly? Has Cointreau taken over his Manhattan office for the time being? She’d better not kill his peace lily, she’s incapable of keeping a plant alive for longer than a week…

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Fucking Christ,” he grits out to himself, deciding to give up on the swing and marching back indoors, wondering just how long it would be before he loses his entire fucking mind.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Was it always this hard? Any other normal person would delight in taking a vacation, would relish in having nothing to do but lounge around and soak up the peace and quiet. Why is it so damn hard for him? 

He grabs his jacket and keys before locking up the cabin and heading into town, deciding to stroll the streets and window shop to fill some time, maybe even take a wander past the bakery. Purely for the treats and not the pretty thing he’d been pleasantly surprised with yesterday.

Didn’t even get a name, and he only realised when he got back to the comfort of his Bronco. He couldn’t just waltz back in there and ask like an idiot… maybe he could persuade the kid to give him some information. Should be easy enough to convince with a couple of dollars if the last two interactions with him were anything to go by.

He frowns out of the windshield as he drives, wondering if he’s really lost that much game he’s resorting to bribing a kid for things he could quite easily get the answers to himself. This wasn’t a job — a quick flirt and seduce for the sake of a mission… this could be a real thing, no matter how brief due to him not being in town for long.

He was coming here as Jack, not Agent Whiskey.

There’s a slight pressure there in the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

—

“He should come over for dinner,” Gabe mumbles around a mouthful of muffin, crumbs spilling from his lips and raining over his sweater. “I want him to meet Snickers.”

A few crumbs fall to the freshly cleaned floor beside you where you kneel on the cold tiles and you scowl lightly at them before returning your attention to the decorations in your hands, rifling through the tangled pile of lights and signs until you find what you’re looking for.

“We barely know the man,” you reply after a moment of fiddling, tearing through tape with your teeth and sticking your Merry Christmas banner to the front of the counter, taping around the edges to ensure it sticks. “We can’t just invite a stranger over, Gabe.”

No matter how pretty said stranger is. You’d be lying if you hadn’t had Jack lingering in the back of your mind since meeting him yesterday. He was quite a hard man to forget, what with his strong, handsome features and warm charismatic presence. Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks such—

“He’s very handsome,” Edith murmurs, smiling thankfully at Stacy as the young blonde places her usual tea and pastry in front of her. “Betty said he’s available, too.”

You chuckle quietly, turning your attention to Edith where her small, aged frame hunches slightly in her thick winter coat. 

“You on the market, Edith?” You grin cheekily, giving her a little wink. “He looks like he’d be a good handful.”

“Oh, you never know, pet. I did just have my hip replaced.”

A snort tears its way from your throat before you laugh, your smile widening as her own chuckle fills the shop. Gabe’s eyes move between you both, a growing frown of confusion deepening between his brows.

“I don’t get it.”

“Never you mind, young man,” Edith smiles, sipping delicately at her tea.

“Mi amor, you wound me! I thought I was your only one!” Jose cries, walking out from the kitchen and sliding a fresh tray of various slices into the display case before waltzing over to her with a playful frown. “And now you leave me for some cowboy? My heart aches—”

“Oh you,” Edith murmurs warmly, melting into the embrace he gives her from behind her chair and patting the arm he has across her chest fondly. “You’ll always be my favourite.”

“That’s more like it,” he returns indulgently, planting a kiss on her temple before straightening up and returning to the kitchen. He pokes the side of your head as he passes, grinning at your swat of annoyance. “And you? He won’t be a stranger if you invite him over and get to know him.”

Gabe makes a garbled noise of agreement after shoving the remaining muffin into his mouth. “Exactly! He’ll always be a stranger if we don’t give him a chance, and h—Cowboy!”

You roll your eyes, on the brink of telling him not to be so loud in the shop when Jack’s sudden deep chuckle has you fumbling with the tape in your hands before it could drop to the floor from your surprise.

A quick glance over your shoulder confirms that he’s here in the flesh, stepping into the shop and sliding the yellow tinted glasses from his nose with a charming half grin tugging at his lips.

Speak of the devil himself.

“Glad to know you’ve dropped the ‘lame’ title for me, kid.”

“Mum said it was rude,” Gabe shrugs lightly.

At your mention, Jack’s attention falls on you and your reaction is immediate. It’s like that sweet high school crush all over again. Your heart quickens as a small thrill rolls through your body, humming along your nerves and causing the muscles of your stomach to tighten in delight.

He nods politely, the rim of his Stetson briefly ducking over his features, and you grin at the greeting, rising unsteadily from your spot and inconspicuously wiping your hands down the front of your apron to dampen the sting of sweat biting at your palms. 

“Are you here for more gingerbread already? I haven’t made any new ones yet so you’ll have to wait til later,” Gabe says frankly, lips pressing into a line as he gazes up at him.

“Now that’s a real shame,” Jack drawls, a frown pulling at his features as his arms cross over his chest. “I was lookin’ forward to one of them fancy diamond fellas of yours.”

Gabe suddenly brightens, seemingly struck with quite an idea, and you feel the trickling of dread begin to grow along your shoulders. It’s never good when he gets that shine in his eyes… God, what is he up to now?

“We could make them together! It would be so much fun with all of us! Can’t we, mum?”

Where is he going with this? Of course you could, but would Jack even want to? He could just be playing nice after all, and now Gabe’s practically cornering him into something he doesn’t want to do. Would Jack be too polite to decline? Maybe you should swoop in before he gets too uncomfortable.

You shift slightly, eyes quickly darting to Jack. “I mean… yeah, but I don’t thi—”

Gabe grins, “Cool! Come over tonight, okay Cowboy? You can meet Lou and Snickers! Do you promise? Promise me!”

“Whoa hey, slow down, kid,” Jack grins, holding his hand out in a calming manner. “That’s not your decision to make. You gotta talk these things through with your mama before you go makin’ plans.”

“Mum,” Gabe whines, whirling on the spot. “He has to come over tonight. You were just talking about having him over for dinner—”

“Is that so?” Jack swoops in, dark eyes rolling to yours and shining with interest.

Heat grows along your cheeks as your mouth suddenly dries up, your mind whirling and whirling yet giving you fucking nothing in terms of words. Though it’s only a moment, it feels like hours until you finally manage to speak, clearing your throat of the feeling of shy discomfort and giving a small shrug.

“I was just saying we can’t invite a stranger over,” you explain dumbly, inwardly wincing.

He cocks his head, a playfully charming smile tugging gently at his lips and you feel the effect of his eyes settle low in your stomach.

“How do you make friends without givin’ a stranger a chance, sugar?”

His tone curling the pet name on his tongue brings your heart to an unsteady beat, blood rushing along under your skin as your smile briefly widens. 

“You make a good point, cowboy,” you reply softly.

“That’s what I said!” Gabe agrees loudly, suddenly snapping you out of the apparent daze Jack had all but forced upon you.

You become very aware of Edith glancing at the three of you from her table, an amused smile playing along her lips as she sips at her tea. Jose is unusually quiet in the kitchen — no doubt eavesdropping, and Stacy seems to be wiping over the same spotless mark on the display case, trying her hardest to not make it look like she’d been lingering to purely listen in.

How had you not noticed them all? They were hardly discreet.

It’s his damn smile.

Jack, unbothered by the interruption, grins widely at Gabe, raising a hand to ruffle the thick knitted beanie forced over his hair. “You got a good head on your shoulders, kid.”

You catch Edith’s eyes over Jack’s shoulder and she gives you a nod of encouragement, throwing in an impatient point to the cowboy for good measure.

“Did—did you want to?” You ask, hoping your nerves didn’t shine through your tone. “Come over for dinner, that is. We could decorate cookies after…”

“Yeah,” Jack answers after a moment of studying your features, his smile softening briefly when he finds whatever he’s looking for. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Relief washes through you, followed steadily by a wave of anticipation and sweet excitement. You’re positive everyone can hear your heartbeat. It drums loudly in your ears, quickening when Jack sweeps forward to pluck the pen from where it hangs off the top of your dusted apron.

He bends briefly to jot something down on the back of a business card he’d pulled from the little holder in front of the till before straightening, smoothly slipping the card into your apron pocket.

“Let me know where and what time, and I’ll be there. See you later, kid — be good, y’hear?”

“Bye cowboy!” Gabe hollers after him, grinning and waving when Jack turns to give him a nod of goodbye.

“Holy shit,” you breathe when he’s finally out of sight, hand flying to rest over where you feel the business card tucked into your pocket and feeling the sharp edges of it through the thick fabric with a wash of warmth rolling through your body.

—

He still doesn’t have a fucking name.

His steering wheel had taken the brunt of his irritated palms during his drive back to the cabin and his brows had been furrowed over his eyes for the entire journey. He’d been so confident, so set on finding out your name the moment his gaze landed on your familiar shop front.

Well that went to fucking shit, didn’t it?

The second your pretty little eyes found his, he couldn’t remember a goddamn thing. Not a goddamn fucking thing. He’d been struck off balance, practically clawing to keep his cool calm. Hell, he couldn’t even say hello — he’d had to settle for a nod because his throat was so damn dry.

Thank god the kid had been there or he’d have made a right ass out of himself. How does one get a date before a name?

And he damn well couldn’t ask for it after receiving a text from you, noting your address and a time you’d be home after closing up. He couldn’t even label your fucking contact details in his phone.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” he’d growled to his reflection in the mirror while he was getting ready, his fingers smoothing his damp moustache down as leftover steam from his shower swirls towards the ceiling. “Get your fuckin’ act together.”

He’d come too far.

Now he needed to bribe the kid.

The drive to your house is mostly spent giving himself an internal pep talk, all of which seems to be forgotten the moment he rolls to a stop alongside the curb.

It’s a dark-bricked two storey with stark white lined windows and smaller in size than the others that line the roads heading towards the town centre, but not at all lacking in its own special charm, set amongst some trees with a paved path lining the way to the small, welcoming porch.

He knows he has the right place by the familiar face squished against one of the upper floor windows, and he gives Gabe a wave as he walks towards the steps, chuckling quietly to himself when he vaguely catches the kid yell his arrival from inside.

His knuckles rap softly against the light teal door, and he takes that brief moment to collect himself with a steadying breath while shaking the tension from his shoulders, before the door suddenly swings in, revealing your frame in the vacant space. His fingers tighten around the small bouquet of flowers held loosely by his side, suddenly struck dumb by you once again.

“Hey darlin’,” he greets softly, his smile automatic as your own spreads across your lips.

“Hi Jack,” you murmur, delighting in the buzz that runs along your nerves.

He raises the flowers, pride rolling over his shoulders when you blink in surprise before giving him the sweetest fucking smile he’s ever seen. God help him.

“These are for y—”

“Cowboy!”

The door is shoved open further by a new body, and Gabe grins up at him, tugging along another little body behind him. The girl stays half hidden behind her brother, her shy smile mirroring her mothers as she blinks up at him from around Gabe’s shoulder.

“Hey kid,” Jack greets fondly before leaning to take a better look at the girl, smiling when she ducks to hide further behind her brother, “hey sweetheart.”

“This is Louisa,” Gabe explains the second your lips part to form her name.

He takes a small step to the side, encouraging her to say hello with a comforting half embrace but she stays silent, hiding her face into Gabe’s sleeve and chewing on the nail of her index finger. He remains unphased and shrugs, tightening his arm around her and returning his attention to Jack.

“She’s a bit shy, but she’s cool.”

“Alright guys, let’s move out of the way before he freezes on our doorstep.”

You herd the kids out of the way and he steps in with a murmur of thanks, relishing in the warmth that fills the small home as you close out the cold behind him. He offers the bouquet of flowers to Louisa as she clutches at your leg, grinning when she carefully reaches for them. Gabe jumps to help him take his jacket off, as well as his hat, straining on tip toes to hang it neatly on the coat rack beside the door.

“Come on through, Jack,” you murmur, smiling at him over your shoulder as you walk deeper into your home, Louisa in tow, and he feels his heart jump in his chest. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Gabe goes to follow but Jack holds him back with his fingers pinching the collar of his t-shirt, waiting for a moment until you’re out of ear shot before bending at the waist and flashing the ten dollars he’d had ready in the front pocket of his jeans.

“You wanna make a deal?”

Gabe eyes the money and grins, “Sure.”

“I’ll give you this for your mama's name.”

—

“You really don’t have to do this, Jack.”

He gives a low rumble of a chuckle, turning to shoot you a brief grin as he passes you a wet plate. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, his hands turning slightly pink from the high heat of the soapy water filling the sink. He bumps softly into your shoulder, returning his attention to washing the small stack of dishes piled next to him.

It’s domestic, cosy.

“After that meal? Darlin’, it’s the least I can do.”

Dinner had gone down without a hitch, full of endless questions on Gabe’s part and a comfortable conversation with you when the kid had been too busy shovelling food into his mouth. Gabe had disappeared briefly and come back with his most treasured friend for introductions — Snickers, a soft tri-color Holland lop that stayed snuggled into his arms during the rest of the meal despite your disapproval.

Jack was at peace for the first time since he walked out the Statesman doors.

He tries not to enjoy it too much. His time in town is brief, after all.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you murmur softly, relishing in his sincere appreciation, “I’m actually not much of a cook.”

“Now, I refuse to believe that—”

“No, it’s true,” you grin, sharing a quiet laugh with him, “I can’t cook very well, but I can bake.”

“Yes, you can,” Jack agrees immediately, glancing over his shoulder to where the batch of gingerbread shapes sit on the counter before looking back at you. “I’ve never been one for gingerbread, and now it’s all I’m thinkin’ about.”

Maybe not all he’s thinking about.

He swallows, dragging his eyes away from the sweet curl of your lips.

“Well, in that case—” you spin and throw the towel playfully at his chest, “—let’s stop wasting time with the dishes.”

His eyes follow you as you move away, preparing somewhat of a decorating station over the clean kitchen counter, and he only becomes aware of the dazed little smile tugging at his lips when his cheeks start to ache from the pull of it.

He steps up next to you at your request, grinning at the cries of excitement from the other room when you call out for the kids. They settle on the two stools and take their pick of shapes from the tray you hold out to them, chattering about the various sprinkles and colours of icing you bring out already prepared.

Gabe quietly coaches Louisa along with decorations before glancing at you, his brows rising.

“You’re forgetting something, mum.”

“Oh, shit.”

Gabe grins as you grab your phone and mess with a little bluetooth speaker before the familiar notes of a certain song that is overplayed way too fucking much during this time of the year starts to fall from the speakers. Jack can’t help the little scrunch of his nose and you notice it with an amused tilt of your head.

“Don’t like this song?”

“I don’t like any Christmas songs,” Jack admits, accepting the little bowl of candy cane sprinkles Lousia shyly holds out to him with a tender smile.

“Oh no,” you murmur, catching Gabe’s attention as he turns to look up at you in question. “I think our new friend is a grinch.”

“What?!” Gabe abandons his decorating in favour of frowning up at the cowboy. “Do you hate Christmas? Why? Were you naughty?”

Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ve just never really celebrated it, kid. It doesn’t interest me.”

“That’s fair, but I’m sorry cowboy,” you coo, leaning against the counter and giving him a coy smile, “when we make our gingerbread cookies—the Christmas playlist comes on.”

He decides he’s more than okay with it if he gets to spend a bit more time in your presence, and, all things considered, it’s not that bad. The music brings out a sweet giddiness in both you and the kids, and it only deepens the smile stretched out along his lips as he swims in the comfortable atmosphere falling over the kitchen.

“I have never used one of these in my life,” Jack notes dryly, holding the piping bag in his hand and frowning at the tip of it.

He glances at the way you work your own, looking so effortless in the way you ice intricate patterns over the cookies while softly swaying to the music. You side eye him with a grin, finishing off a swirl with a smooth flourish and raising a brow at him in a silent challenge.

Looks easy enough…

It’s not.

He makes a low noise of distaste at his shaky attempts, discovering the piping bag is not as innocent as it looks. Laughter melts into his ears and he throws you a playful frown, nudging your arm softly with his elbow.

“Are you laughin’ at me?”

“What? I would never,” you return cheekily, stepping closer until your front brushes against his arm.

Your hands cover his, the warmth of your palms oozing into his skin and he’s only vaguely aware of the instruction you quietly murmur into his ear. How could he focus on anything else with you so damn close? He ignores the pattern you help him ice over the cookie, too busy studying the way the kitchen light reflects in your eyes and the way your lashes brush against your skin.

You become hyper aware of his gaze burning into the side of your face and your body reacts automatically, your heart picking up in your chest and thudding heavily against your ribs. You sneak a glance at him, suddenly caught in the pools of warm brown focusing solely on you, and your breath catches in your throat.

It lasts only a minute, the chatter of Gabe and Lou obliviously decorating their cookies in the background keeping you both from falling any deeper into the temptation building along your nerves to close in on those last few inches.

Jack’s the first to look away and break the spell, his eyes falling down to the counter, before he gives you a final glance from his peripheral. You spy the smile tugging at his lips and your chest tightens, lost to the feeling of blood rushing to fill your cheeks.

Could he hear your heartbeat? God, you hope not.

The curl of anticipation never fades from the pit of your stomach as the night rolls on, stretching out over your system whenever you’d catch his gaze or feel the brush of his body against yours. It becomes harder and harder to deny the level of attraction you have for him, despite only meeting him yesterday.

And he’s wonderful with the kids… a fact that does nothing to temper the lure you feel for him. 

He listens attentively to every word Gabe says when he goes on a ramble about his new world and how creepers keep blowing up his house, despite quite clearly not knowing what the hell he’s talking about. He’s delicately soft with Louisa, never pushing her to talk and simply content to watch her work, interacting with a kind smile whenever she’d ask for his help or thoughts.

She’s completely smitten by the end of the night, and you don’t blame her.

She gives him a small tired wave from where she snuggles into the couch under a blanket with Gabe who’s long passed out, head thrown back against a pillow and snores falling from his open mouth. You follow Jack out once he returns Louisa’s goodbye, cringing at the icy temperature when you step onto the darkened porch behind him.

“You’ve got a couple of great kids,” Jack murmurs, turning to you.

You grin in return, glancing over your shoulder to the warmth of your home where they rest before meeting his gaze and giving a little shrug.

“I know.”

He chuckles deeply and the low timbre of it shoots straight to the pit of your stomach, the feeling only worsening when he takes a step closer and leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips. He lingers for a brief moment, his moustache tickling your skin as his nose brushes your cheek and it sends your heart into a frenzy.

You can’t help but turn into it, the movement bringing his lips within breathing distance, much much closer than before. His breath is warm over your lips, heavy with the hot chocolate you’d made after the cookies, and you feel your heart beating in your ears as the tip of his nose briefly catches yours.

“Thank you for havin’ me, sugar.”

“You’re welcome any time, cowboy.”

“Careful now,” Jack drawls quietly, tongue slipping along his lower lip as his eyes shine mischievously, “I might take you up on that offer quicker than you think.”

“I sure hope so,” you smile, watching fondly as he finally steps away from you and raises a hand to place the weathered Stetson atop his head.

You’re in trouble. You can feel it in your very core. You can feel it in the way your cheeks refuse to let go of the smile stretched across your lips. Despite spending the entire evening in his company, you ache with the question of when you’ll be able to see him like this again, his brief time in town only fuelling this need, and it prompts you to speak up before he goes too far.

“Jack?” You call as he slowly swaggers down the porch steps.

He stops instantly, turning to face you with a curious brow raised.

“If you want to take me up on that offer, we’re putting our Christmas lights up tomorrow… we could do with an extra hand if you’re available. Unless Scrooge has to work…” you trail off teasingly, grinning at his chuckle.

“I’ll be here, darlin’.”

—

It’s different, and very much unlike you.

Inviting a stranger over for dinner? Inviting him back to help decorate your home? It’d all felt so natural the day you spent clipping rows after rows of small, twinkling colourful lights along the eaves and windows, sharing conversation and jokes until the sun melted behind the mountains.

The feel of his hands steadying you on your trusty little step ladder had burnt you, even through the thickness of your coat. The way his eyes had reflected the wild flash of colour from the lights had settled something soft and tender in the pit of your stomach, pleased that he seemed to be enjoying himself in your company, even doing something as mundane as tacking lights everywhere. 

His farewell was much like the night before, leaving such a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips and lingering right there until you thought for sure he was going to kiss you, only to step away with that dazzling little grin and sauntering away with a raspy goodnight.

You’d stared at your ceiling longer than you cared to admit once he left, lost in the thoughts of his lips, his hands, the way he’d feel. 

He quickly lost his title of stranger, becoming something of a fast friend the more he spent time with you. The feelings that bubbled to the surface and swam merry little circles around your heart came so naturally in his presence. You desperately try to ignore the way they strengthen with each shared glance and charming smile, convinced it’s just the thrill of a new crush and nothing more.

It couldn’t be anything more. Though he didn’t tell you a whole lot about his work, he did tell you he was never in one spot for too long. He bounced between Kentucky and New York, often going overseas and all over, and it didn’t give him the opportunity of settling, or even dating.

He had said it with a tone of apology, as if he was giving you the option of walking away before you stepped any further after knowing it could be nothing like you were potentially dreaming. You’d enjoy it while it lasted, you decided. It didn’t have to be anything serious, or even romantic, just a sweet memory to treasure when he eventually drives out of town.

“That one is huge!” Gabe cries, running to a monstrous 11ft thing towering over the other trees and fluffing its lower branches. “We have to get this one.”

“And put it where, Gabriel?” You question in amusement, rolling your gaze from the thick width of the tree to the tip top of it. “We wouldn’t even be able to get this through our front door, let alone stand it up inside.”

He gives a dismissive shrug, “We can make it work. Can’t we, Jack?”

Jack chuckles next to you, walking over to Gabe and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re askin’ a bit much of your door, kid. How about we find somethin’ more… compact?”

Gabe sighs, but eventually yields, giving one last look of longing to the monster before snatching Louisa’s hand and dragging her to other potential trees. You watch them dart between trunks with a small smile, your insides turning to fire when you feel a hand press into the small of your back to guide you between two close set trees.

“I’m sorry Gabe roped you into today,” you murmur as you step past Jack, your heart thudding when you feel his hand linger before sliding away. “I know Christmas isn’t your thing – this must be very painful.”

The night Jack had helped you with the lights, Gabe had asked — begged — him to come Christmas tree shopping with you, and had asked him every day leading up to the day a week later. Jack had given in early in the week, but Gabe had still asked every time Jack wandered into the shop for a treat to ensure his newest friend would help him pick the ‘coolest and bestest tree ever’. 

Jack laughs, reaching out to feel the needles on a passing tree and giving you a grin. “Don’t be, sugar. I’m havin’ a great time. I’ve got good company.”

He gives your shoulder a playful little bump with his own and fire spreads across your chest, curling around your heart and filling the tips of your ears. Instead of stepping away, he stays close, keeping his side constantly brushing against yours as you both leisurely follow after the kids and your heart starts to hammer.

“I could say the same,” you grin, shooting him a look from the side, “you’re not too bad for a grinch.”

“Hey now,” he drawls with a smile, “there’s still time for me to go ‘round town stealin’ Christmas.”

You’d let him if he kept smiling at you like this.

“I’ll make sure I keep an eye out for you on Christmas Eve.”

“Speakin’ of Christma Eve,” Jack murmurs, fighting the feel of something curling around his throat, “what’s this Christmas Ball thing I’ve been hearin’ about?”

“It’s hardly a ball,” you grin, trying to not let the brush of his body send your heart into too much of a frenzy, “that makes it sound a lot fancier than what it is. It’s just a Christmas Eve party at the hall — they’ve had it for years. It’s gotten bigger over time, what with more and more tourists coming into town.”

Jack nods along to your words, wondering when the hell he started getting so goddamn nervous to even speak. He swears his heart is beating in his throat. It’s not him, it's you. It’s you doing this to him, catching him off guard with those pretty eyes and making him feel like he was a clueless boy head over heels all over again. 

What in the hell are you doing to him?

Your voice breaks through his reverie.

“Will we see you there?”

His eyes flash up to meet yours, once again struck dumb by your smile. He gives a nod, barely able to catch his breath before your lips widen into something much more pleased and it rockets through his system. Originally he wasn’t going to, but the idea of going with you seemed much more appealing that staying in the cabin and nursing the bottle of whiskey for the night, waiting for the holiday to be over.

It’s just too bad he can’t get his damn mouth to form the fucking words to ask. Speak, man—

“Darlin’, I was wonderin’—”

“We found it!”

You both startle at the cry of victory that comes from in front of you, cutting through the moment of potential. Gabe has his hands clenched and arms high in the air while Louisa gives an excited little hop beside him, her face split from the grin stretched across her lips. Jack sighs quietly, weak to fight the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the kids’ excitement.

“Hold on a second,” you call back, turning those sweet eyes back onto him. “What were you saying, Jack?”

His eyes flick over your face, his throat bobbing with a swallow as he studies your features.

Maybe it’s best to leave it as it is. He already knows you’ll be attending, so what’s the point in asking you to go with him? He can just catch up with you there. Not to mention you probably had things to do with the kids, with your fellow townsfolk… no. He’ll leave it be. Besides, it’s not like he’ll be in town for much longer.

“It’s nothin’, sugar,” he finally replies, lips set in their charming curl. “Come on now, let’s go get this tree before this kid finds an axe and does it himself.”

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide

whiskey/jack tags: @pedrohoe04, @stardust-galaxies, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @bbyanarchist, @raphaelaisabella, @breakfastonpluto19, @churchofrain, @joelmiller81, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @shadowolf993​

so many aren’t working lately, sorry x

#folijollyxmas #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal x reader

[milknhonies]

The Spirit of Christmas Eve

Masterlist || Chapter 1 ll Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After an unexpected visit from your younger, overly pregnant and concerned sister- you are yet again put into a terrible mood. You receive a night visit from the ghost of your predecessor and fall into an abyss of confusion.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Disrespect to Homeless People, R4pe Fantasies, Masturbation, Dark Joke about Abortion, Hinted Xenophobia, Humiliation, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Drug Use, Classism.

Word Count: 5k

Author Notes: This is a parody of the classic "A Christmas Carol" story by Dickens, I hope you come to enjoy it even though the pov holds cruel, toxic and abusive traits.

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09:00am, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Oh how you hated the holidays. You hated the red and green colouring, you hated the carolling groups and bands singing every day in December leading up to the wretched twenty fifth. You hate the baby Jesus in a manager nativity set ups.

‘Jesus wasn’t even fucking born on Christmas. He was a January baby according to Jewish scholars. It was all a ploy to satisfy and celebrate Yule with pagans before encouraging indoctrination!!’

And the smell of peppermint, gingerbread and fatty sugary foods left you feeling sickly.

“Unnecessary calories to dissolve the enamel of my teeth when it comes back up in the  goddamn toilet.”

The cold air and the slippery frost brought you no delight. Along the way you would kick the snow men in your walking path. You despised the bratty children sitting on the Santa laps in the malls.

‘Their parents should know half of those fat ass Santa actors are just paedophiles getting their kicks once a year? Yea I’d love a little boy all prim and plump to sit on my lap if I was a sicko in a red suit too.’

You hated the fact they were bringing Christmas trees in the day after Halloween.

“Sure, it spins the wheel of capitalism but God, do they have to look so trashy? Christmas is once a year, not two months long.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you strutted the street to your work place.

Your senior associate Marlene who you could’ve considered your friend had a heart attack early that year. She was a woman in her prime, at forty years old she had managed to build her business empire. No husband, no kids, no pets. She didn’t need those things, not when she raked in over four million dollars a year. She drank and smoked like a chimney, you wondered if it contributed to her death in the end. She was rumoured to be found naked, getting fucked by some no name sexy twenty-one year old playboy from South Korea. And among her blissful orgasm, her heart just couldn’t handle the pressure and faltered.

Imagine his horror. Balls deep and not knowing she had died. Little shit tried getting her money in the inheritance scheme. He tried pushing that he was her long committed boyfriend. One threat to the immigration department sent that kid running for the kills back to Seoul.

You were named successor in her Will. Now, it’s not like you needed her millions, you already had a full pocket. At twenty five you’d made your first million all because you picked the right pattern in your investments and put every cent into them. You worked instead of partied. And many had said behind your back that it made you a miserable sourpuss bitch with no friends. You didn’t need friends. Marlene was just a funny coincidence.

Some might have called you careless, impulsive, and greedy. But what that translates to you was the word ‘Wealth and Success’. You were wealthy and money made you happy. The more numbers, the more joy in your cold heart.

You entered the building that was now yours. Oh did I forget to remind you...you were the CEO of your tax collecting firm. I think that’s important for you to know.

Entering the sleek grey, white and black minimalist foyer you sighed in relief. No Christmas or holiday bullshit in here. You had banned all decorations and affiliations.

And you refused paid leave to anyone asking not to work on Christmas day. You remember scoffing last night at the amount of requests you had received about time off for the holidays.

‘I’m running a business, not a charity.’

Christmas was the best time of year for your job. So many stupid people take out stupid loans they can’t afford especially during the holidays period when gift giving is the centre cause of financial stress. You got a thrill out of denying loans and upping payment interest rates for those suckers who didn’t make their payments on time because they chose to spend the money meant to be going into your pocket on some disposable wrapping paper and a cheap pharmacy gift last minute.

As you stepped into the elevator you smiled cynically at the empty space. You could look at yourself in the mirror and pick apart all the things you loved and hated about your body. It was strangely therapeutic. Something about the critiques gave you a massive high.

But just as the elevator doors where closing a hand slammed hard through the gap.

“Wait!” came a familiar cry. Your face fell and you felt a tight discomfort seeing the face of your younger sister. Caroline.

Your eyes shot down to her belly. Big as a house in the ugliest knit Christmas sweater.

‘Pregnant again. Jesus Christ. What’s this? Number four now?’

You clenched your handbag tighter. You tried recalling some sort of baby shower invite from months ago, you totally forgot about it once you moved it to junk mail.

‘If she fucking asks me for money again, I swear to god she’s risking an abortion voucher in a Christmas card...are abortion vouchers even a thing?’

Caroline had married her highschool sweetheart, he was some sort of mechanic or something. A bum, like your Dad. You couldn’t believe she was dumb enough to breed with an imbecile like him. Mind you, her first son was clearly an teen pregnancy accident that sealed them together. And every year, she just seemed to pop out a new one. And every year that meant you gave her a fat cheque, usually six thousand dollars.

You ground your teeth as she forced herself inside and pressed the button of the doors shut immediately, not at all taking notice of you until mid way moving up in the building.

Her face lit up and she shrieked in delight at seeing you.  You strained a smile.

‘Yea, definitely looking for a handout.’

“Oh my god! I was about to fight security to come see you sissy!” she forced her arms around you. You bit your tongue. You hated hugs.

“Well…lovely seeing you too,” you muttered before awkwardly patting her back.

Her breath hitched at seeing the look on your face, “Sorry about not pre-warning, I did try calling you but your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

‘Oh good, she still hasn’t figured out I let them ring out.’

“And you didn’t reply to my emails.”

You fought a smirk, ‘because they go straight to junk mail’.

She smiled and babbled happily, “Anyway, I had to come here because I need to give you-“ she huffed and swiped a bead of sweat from her forehead before reaching into her nappy bag (that she treated like a handbag.) and retrieved a thick red envelope.

She handed it to you. Your manicured nails pinched the ugly stickers one of your nephews or nieces had chosen. Scribbled in absolute chicken scrap handwriting was your name, most likely also done by your nephew or nieces.

The elevator opened and you sighed, marching out to enter the offices with your solo office space down the hall with the largest window and finest view of the city below. You didn’t expect your sister to tail you. She waddled like a fast duck following you.

“I was thinking you should meet this guy that babysits-” She was talking to you about something but in all honesty, you weren’t listening until she mentioned the cursed words, “-Christmas Party.”

You deposited your handbag on your desk and spun on your heel. Your eyes wide, your smile straining into a sneer.

You snickered cruelly and laced your fingers together, “How many times have we discussed this? I. Don’t. Celebrate. Christmas. I don’t do presents, I don’t do carolling, I don’t do secret Santa’s and I sure as fucking hell don’t do Christmas Parties. I’m glad that you and Tim have fun with your kids and do all that meaningless stuff to shield them from the big bad world. I however am not in the mood for it. Work comes first. This is one of the busiest years of my life, the market is at an all time high in interests rates.”

She looked like she was growing smaller with every foul word that dripped like acid rain.

“It’s just one day, not even a full day. Just a few hours, not far from you,” she whispered and rubbed her belly comfortingly.

You shook your head and circled around your desk, “Might as well get this over with, you don’t need to ploy me with booze.”

You pulled out a cheque book from your drawer and slapped it down. You bent over and fished out a pen, pressing the ink to the slim piece of paper.

Your voice came out like a bark, “How much are you wanting this year?”

“Wh-what?” your sisters eyes grew wide.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, with a condescending tone, “How much money do you want to cover all the gifts? I hear Disneyland is great this time of year in Florida. I need a number. I have a busy day ahead of me so I’d just like to get this over and done with.”

Your sister didn’t answer. You glanced up. Her face was no longer smiling. She looked in pain. Her hand sat on top of her belly. She hissed and breathed out hard.

Her eyes were dimming down. She lost the joyful spark. She waddled to the guest chair in front of your desk and sat down.

She put the nappy bag on the floor.

 ‘great, thanks for the smell of cornflakes and breast milk on the carpet.’

Her breath turned husky and you started to reach for your desk phone ready to call a bloody ambulance to take her to the hospital. You couldn’t tell what the hell was wrong with her and prayed she wasn’t going into labour. You didn’t need to waste five thousand dollars on a carpet replacement because her waters might break.

Her eyes glared up at you as she tried to focus on pacing her breath. God, she looked like your mother with that look. It hurt. She got the best genes you had to admit. Even while pregnant she had this way about her that made men just want to beg for her number. You couldn’t tell if it was her ditsy personality or just good looks.

“Jim," Caroline corrected with strain, "-and I don’t need your money. We don’t want it. We have never have wanted it. This year, I just want you to put in the effort to spend Christmas with us as a family. You and I haven’t shared a Christmas since I was in middle school. My kids want their aunty to visit because I tell them you’re the coolest person alive...” her eyes narrowed, “Put the fucking cheque book away, and come to fucking Christmas dinner at least. It’s going to be at my house if you look at the invite that your nephew and nieces made special for you. They don’t want presents, they just want to see their aunty. Besides.... I told them you’d come if they put extra love into it.”

You chewed your inner cheek and stood up straight, crossing your arms and sat on the edge of your desk.

“You shouldn’t lie to your kids, Caroline,” you coolly said with icy impact.

You watched her eyes start to shine and water.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “Don’t fucking cry.”

She broke down immediately. You sighed with annoyance. ‘why did she have to come today of all days and act like this. It’s not a big deal. God.’

“You’re such a bitch and my kids have done nothing to you except love you unconditionally. The least you can do is show up,” Caroline struggled to stand out of the chair and when you reached out to help, she snapped like a firecracker and hissed, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She groaned as she bent down, holding her belly and reached for her nappy bag, that she let you help her with. She suddenly looked so tired and deflated compared to when she had ducked into the elevator. You started to feel a tick of that itchy sympathy. Pregnancy always looked hard. Her first birth was so difficult, the second slipped right out but she didn’t have an epidural and the third time was an emergency c-section. In fact you weren’t even sure if she was meant to be having this fourth baby. It would be too risky. She could honestly kill herself. Now that was a bolt of fear that coursed through you.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you sniffled, trying to distract your little sister from her anger.

She looked even more offended and scoffed, “You know, if you had even tried to come to my baby shower, you could’ve eaten one of the gender reveal cupcakes.”

‘Ouch.’

You looked down at your Valentino pumps. Seven years younger than you and she still managed to put you in your place with the snap of her fingers.

She rubbed her wet eyes with the tips of her fingers.

“I worry about you...” she mumbled, “You might have a lot of money Y/N, but money can’t buy you everything. Don’t you want to share memories?”

You tried hiding the laugh limbing your throat,, “Not this argument again...come on, I’ll walk you out and hire you a cab.”

You escorted her back to the elevator, all your employees watching and whispering about it. You knew your office needed thicker glass.

As you quietly pressed the button down, your sister finally said, “It’s twins. A boy and girl.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually you only nodded and whispered, “Congratulations. You and Tim must be excited.”

“Jim," she grounded, "-and I are flat out on our feet with the others but yea...I’m thinking about naming the girl after mom.”

Again you didn’t respond. You wanted this interaction to be finished. You wanted to go to work and drink away the days leading up to New Year’s. Maybe you should take a trip overseas. You might run into a handsome one night stand with an attractive accent.

Your sister turned and hugged you again, she rubbed her sweet face into your shoulder and sighed, “I’m sorry for snapping. Please don’t be mad. Please promise me you’ll come to the party, even for five minutes.”

Her pleading eyes finally cracked your ice wall.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The squealing giggle of delight made you groan internationally instantly regretting your words. Nonetheless you took it upon yourself to at least hug her back. God help you, you didn’t know how you’d survive.

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10:00pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

On your way home you discovered with aggravation all the cabs and ubers nearby had been booked up and the traffic in the city horrendous. Of course. On Christmas eve it would look like this.  You decided to march your way to the subway. It would be the quickest way back home.

You had to cross the park to get there though.

And among your walking you passed a man laying down on a bench. He wore a baseball cap that hid his face. He wore a blanket over his shoulders. A puff of cold air escaped his pink lips.

His shadowed face peered up at you and held up a piece of cardboard that read the following: Homeless, please donate a food and blankets.

And something inside you cracked again. You fought the urge to pull out your purse and give him the only hundred dollar bill you had. You looked him up and down. And froze. Next to him was a bottle of liquor. Something malicious dripped from your lips. Words filled with cruelty and hate. It was bold and dangerous. But you bet he was drunk.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t there any shelters taking in scum? Are all the prisons full? Maybe if you got off your ass and got a real fucking job, you would be too busy making money instead of swilling down booze!”

He did not react in the way you expected. He smiled at an ankle, winked and held a finger up to his lips.

Your face curdled in disgust and hacked back your throat, spitting on him.

“Booze bum,” you muttered, and marched on, away from him.

Your chin jerked high. It was a method of teaching you had learnt in your youth. Shame someone until they commit to a goal and out perform it. To this day you are still doing that very thing, why not share that gift of knowledge with others?

You scowled the entire train ride home and flicked through your emails.

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11:10pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Alone in your penthouse apartment, you padded your way to bed scrolling through your phone. In your hand you cradled a wine glass and set it on the bedside table.

Beneath the soft cotton covers you sighed happily and used your phone to command the fireplace to be lit up. A fake flame on a flat screen tv with heaters all around you, filling your place with warmth.  Laying back into your pillows you scrolled your phone and frowned at all the Christmas themed posts online, all the tutorials and recipes you’d never follow and all the Christmas stories you’d never read.

Tossing the phone beside your wine glass, your hands snuck down into a drawer and retrieved your absolute best friend in the world. She was thick, long and quiet, totally sky blue and had twenty different settings. You slid the vibrator under the covers and shimmied out of your underwear. Your fingers fumbled, touching your wet cunt.

The alcohol was finally hitting you, warming you up. You weakly reached for your vibrator. You knew it would be a comfort to take away the anger and stress away from your day at work.

You pressed the silicone to your clit and switched on the toy. A soft sigh came from you as you rubbed it along your lower lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and tried to imagine a person and you having sex.

‘A policeman? No. College professor? No. Loser doorman? No…’ and then your eyes flickered in a quick vision of the homeless man from the park… ‘Yes. He must be miserable, pissed off, angry, he smiled but that would have been a lie, his long finger he held to his mouth should stuff itself inside me.’

Your hand slid up and pulled down the front of your night down. You dug your nails into your breast before tugging your nipple hard. You whined as you bucked your hips into your toy that you playfully prodded and tore out of you. You imagined that same stranger ripping your dress from your body and dragging you into the snowy woods.

Rape fantasies weren’t uncommon for you. It was something about the power struggle that sent thrills up and down your spine. You liked the pain. You liked being forced to give up your control. You slid the plastic cock deep into your slick pussy and mewled.

The homeless man would hold a knife to your throat and bend you over a log, no, no, that bench, so out and open and public for anyone to catch him tearing you apart. His hand would lick your skin in stinging slaps. The alcohol on his breath would be putrid. He’d call you names, whore, slut, bitch, cunt, fuckpig. And you would be totally helpless…

You lazily rolled over onto your belly and forced your ass up, your bed sheets falling down your thighs.

You pushed the dildo back in deep and turned on the highest setting, biting the pillow under you. You fucked yourself hard until it hurt.

The homeless man fantasy went on and on, forcing you to cum and cry. You didn’t care if neighbours or tenants below you heard. You imagined this terrible man after fucking you raw making you sit in his filthy lap, fucking you with the empty liquor bottle neck and letting strangers walking past the chance to spit on you and slap you until you cummed.

The fantasy didn’t have a fanciful ending fleshed out. You could only imagine him dragging you back to some ghetto homeless tent village under one of the city bridges and whoring your cunt out to his homeless buddies. You wanted to submit, to be used like that…

But not in the real world. Fuck no. Your reputation mattered greatly. You were too stubborn to willingly date a man and ask him to do something taboo like consensual non-consent play.

You tore the blue cock out and pressed it to your clit, riding out an ultimate orgasm that left your body feeling like jelly. Slumping forward you groaned into the pillows, you knew you had to eventually get up and pee. The alcohol still in your system made the journey feel almost impossible. But when your bare ass hit the seat, you leant back and sighed. 'UTI prevented!'

Getting back to bed wasn’t as hard as getting to the bathroom. You breathed in the smell of your own sexual prowess. No shame. You put away your toy and before you could search for your discarded underwear, you heard your phone pinged. You grunted with annoyance.

You glanced at the screen; it was a text from Caroline.

*Told the kids you are coming tomorrow! They’re so excited to see their aunty! Xoxo*

‘oh right…her Christmas party…it’s tomorrow…' you still hadn’t even looked at the invitation. Anger started burning its way into your chest when you saw the emojis and gifs she attached. Santa and reindeers and snowmen. God you fucking hated Christmas!! She didn’t need to remind you. You didn’t plan to be there longer than the strick three hundred seconds. The miserable evil stabbed your heart again.

It out you so over the edge you began to type, *Tell them I changed my mind, I’m busy.*

Before your thumb could slam on the message send, something strange occurred. The penthouse apartment lights started to flicker on and off repeatedly.

‘A circuit must’ve snapped. I know I turned off all the lights.’

You slammed your phone down and ripped off your bed sheets. Marching over to the telecom beside you door you prepared the mental speech of anger and abuse you’d deliver on whatever poor soul was handling the front desk of the apartment complex tonight.

You pressed the button hard and when no welcoming comment came you decided to wait.

You waited and waited and still no one acknowledged you over the telecom. There was a noise coming from it though. It was a sound of ragged breathing. Squinting with absolute judgement you hissed into the microphone.

You sobered up your voice and rubbed your eyes. Your wine was knocking around your insides at that point, it had polluted your blood. You just needed to stay awake for a little longer.

“This is penthouse three. Your lights are dimming and flickering out. I want someone to change all that bulbs and check the power wires immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

The unusual panting was still there and getting louder. You shook your head. Someone should’ve been repeating back your request and discussing a mode of action.

“Hello?” you angrily huffed into the microphone when no answer came for a long time.

You hissed, “Now you listen here. I don’t give a fuck it’s Christmas eve. You’re job is on the line if you cant fix my fucking lights.”

And then the line went totally dead and your apartment was entirely darkened. You groaned with anguish. Using your phone flash light you returned to your room.

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pulled the covers Of your bed back again, “Probably too drunk on eggnog to give a damn. Say goodbye to those two dollar tips dickhead.”

You laid back and fished out your bonnet, carefully lipping your hair inside the protective layer. You rolled onto your side under the covers and shut your eyes.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

12:00am, 25th December 2023, New York City.

For some reason at 12am you received a very obnoxiously loud phone call. Blindly you reached for it and accepted the call. You had a suspicion it was a prank call from overseas.

“Y/N,” said the caller. Your eyes cleared up fast at the sound of a voice you knew too well.

You almost dropped your phone. Surely it wasn’t her calling. You had seen her body at her funeral. She chuckled on the other side, her voice was just as rusted as you remembered. In the dream she had come over to your house and had a sleep over together.

Your eyes widened, “Wh-who is this?” you asked, “Do you fucking know what time it is?”

The identical voice of your passed companion echoed back, “In life you knew me as Marlene Jeong.”

You hung up the phone fast and sat up straight. Her hands trembled and the phone screamingly made another phone call from the same unknown number.

You answered it and heard her shriek, “Don’t you know hanging up like that is rude.”

You took a deep breath in. And shut your eyes. No. It couldn’t be.

“This prank isnt funny,” you barked into the receiver.

“Well I’d hope not. You know I wasn’t a fan of funny,” she grumbled back.

You picked up the phone and huffed, “If you’re really Marlene...tell me something only I would know...”

The phone went quiet and clicked off. You smirked, 'Yea, that's what I thought you sick fuck.'

The air around you grew colder. With the power out you accepted that the central heating was out too. Getting out of bed you stumbled down the hall to the linen cupboard and pulled out a few more thicker blankets. When you returned back to your room you screamed and jumped ten feet in the air, dropping the load of blankets.

Marlene was sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. She was not herself and yet was at the same time. She looked the same except for the fact her entire body was a light blue and translucent. She was naked. And you could see her translucent organs. In her hand was a false spiritual cigarette. Smoking rising from the tip and faded into the darkness. And don’t let me forget a important detail. She was floating and parts of her body wrapped in chains.

Hearing you, she turned her face away from your phone and winked. You slammed back into a wall, trying to get away from her as she floated closer to you. She took a mean drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke into your fear filled face. You could’ve fainted. The smoke didn’t smell like anything and was rather a cold breeze to your cheek.

You flinched and whimpered, “Marlene...what the fuck.”

She smirked and rolled mid air upside down,

“Long time no see. Or well...you can’t see me but I see you basically every day,” she cackled.

Your lips fell apart, “Wha-how- why...why are you hear? Should you be dead?”

She flicked the cigarette of ash that turned into blue light specs and disappeared before touching the floor.

“Oh trust dear, I’m dead, dead as a doornail. Little Kyong gave me a killer orgasm, literally,” she took another long drag, “I had no clue what was coming and poof! I’m on the floor choking and groaning and next thing I wake up to, is you moving your shit into my office and my penthouse. But I digress sweet snake...I’m not here on a social call...I’m here to send you a warning.”

Your head felt dizzy, “A warning? The fuck? Am I going to die soon or something?” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

She smiled and shook her head, “Oh no...no, no....something a tad more painful. See, I have been sent to play 'angel Gabriel' so to speak and inform you of a supernatural message.”

She floated around, chains at her wrist dragged behind her as she did. Marlene sharpened her gaze at you.

‘Woah did I take one too many Percocet with my wine...I must be high.’

“You are saveable unlike my dead cold self,” she said flying back to your bed and lewdly laying down, “My dead frozen heart could not thaw,” she sighed and tapped her chest.

You could see inside her at the organ most resembling heart was literally made of icy and was not beating. It was disturbing.  

“I’m destined to float while tethered to the world unseen, unheard, unloved…forgotten. But you? You still have a chance to atone. A spirit shall arrive and come to you in three shades…Christmas past, present and future. It shall greet you hourly between one and three o’clock.”

You timidly stepped closer.

“You need to open your mind and open your heart or else-“ she floated above you and groaned, “This will be your future fate.”

You rubbed your eyes and slapped your cheek. Marlene’s ghost was still there. She held up her wrist, showing off the manacle around it, “This is a fate no one wishes, trust me on that.”

Her face leant in closer to your face. Her hair floated around her like water tendrils.

She rattled the chains together, clinking them and explained, “The spirit will test you. And they will test you fairly. They will decide what to do with you after. They call themselves, Christmas past, present and future.”

When she had said these words, Marlenes ghost faded away, disappearing into the cold, quiet night. It took you a few minutes to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe or make sense of it and no matter how many times you pinched of slapped yourself, you found yourself still in the unexplainable dream. You tossed the blankets from the floor onto the bed. You had another drink of wine before you chose to return to bed. You tugged the warmest and softest blanket up to your chin. You were scared and confused. Your eyes grew heavier as you forced yourself to forget and ignore the apparition of Marlene chained nude and talking in riddles.

You laid your cheek into the pillow and fell into a deep slumber.

HELPINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

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#chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans #dark!chris evans #tsoc

[glittergutts]

I need to get back on top of my health. I guess cause Chris was home and there was a holiday I've been eating like shit and not exercising. I can tell how bloated I am from all the gluten I should have avoided.

Last night Chris and I put up a few Christmas lights on the front porch and I've never decorated outside in my adult life. So I think that's pretty cool.

I'm getting some packages in the mail today. I'm getting some skincare stuff for Christmas because I found some good black Friday deals on some things I need and some I wanted to try. I love getting boxes.

I have a lot to do today. I have probably 2 loads of dishes to wash and so much dirty laundry. idk if I even have anything to wear today. The kitchen is a chronic mess. I feel like I have to clean it multiple times a day for it to stay clean.

I have to do homeschool with the kids too after a week long break. I hope it's not too hard to get started today.

I also have to call my doctors office for the 5th time about the same fucking thing and I'm not happy. I've been taking a lot less seroquil and I'm not feeling my best so I really need my doctor to call it in to the pharmacy and they finally called in my 50mgs but not my 100mgs and I told every single person I talked to I needed both. They're fucking stupid or something I swear to God. I have bad phone anxiety and now I'm getting angry at not getting what I need and I just so don't want to deal with it.

I also have to call the pharmacy because my latuda didn't refill and it's not set to fill till January and it shouldn't be like that because I'm out and I didn't take extra so it's got go be the pharmacy. Another thing I don't want to deal with is because out of all the pharmacy employees, there's only one person that seems competent, and everyone else is so hard to communicate with.

I'm hoping to get the bullshit calls out the way early. Except I'll sit around anxious all day about my meds not being called in yet. I wish I could talk directly to a doctor none of the receptionist seem to be able to do anything except send the nurses a message who then have to message the doctor. And I just don't understand why getting a refill has taken a week and a lot of frustration and 5 fucking phone calls.

I'm already feeling irritable this morning, but I think I need to just try to relax. The doctors always find a way to piss me off and also fuck with my health at the same time. I'm so disappointed in the medical system. But being cranky won't make today easy.

[lacharcutiere]

still [sawamura daichi]

1,6k words

previous | masterlist | next ➪

part eight of i’m gone i’m gone i’m gone miniseries. you can only put these things off for so long.

JST: japanese standard time (GMT +9). EST: eastern standard time (GMT -5). EDT: eastern daylight time (GMT -4).

tings // fluff, a little bit of angst, kinda suggestive at the end ?? // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to taglist ! minors dni.

☾𓆙𓂻

— JAPAN, SUMMER 2024.

the summer passes like this: you and daichi laughing too loudly in busy restaurants and train cars; having arms around each other in the back of taxis on the way home from clubs; making instant udon at three a.m.; walking up and down the neighborhood a hundred times; laying silently side by side and not needing to say anything. it's a routine, it's familiar—it's home.

a couple weeks before you're set to head back to new york, daichi asks you a question as you lay next to him on a blanket in your driveway, staring up at the stars.

"have you decided what your plans are after college?"

"i'm gonna come back here."

"i thought you wanted to go to grad school? you can do way better in the states, especially with a degree from columbia."

you roll onto your side so you can look at him better. "i know. but i've been away too long already. i miss you."

he gives you a little smile. "but i'm right here."

"right here is pretty fucking far from america."

"hm."

"hm."

that's the end of the conversation.

— 2 AUGUST 2024. 23:09 JST.

everything happens the exact same way it has for the past three years: he takes you to the airport. you try hard not to cry; you say your goodbyes. check-in, security, buy some candy to eat at the gate. board the plane. sixteen hours later, you're in america.

one thing was different, though.

when he said goodbye, his lips touched yours.

you don't stop thinking about it for weeks.

☾𓆙𓂻

— AUGUST TO NOVEMBER 2024.

slightly relieving is the fact that amid thesis writing and too many classes and working an internship under one of your professors (that one's nice, it even earns you enough to get a small apartment a few blocks from campus), there proves to be little time to be spent missing daichi.

you finesse your schedule to fit weekly facetimes on friday evenings (new york time) and shoot random texts back and forth about your day between classes and during meals, and without much space for anything else, it's enough. good things are worth waiting for, anyway.

— DECEMBER 2024.

but then winter sem break rolls around and there's no school so it's back to having too much lonely alone time with your thoughts. you write daichi a christmas card and drop it off at the post office. it's early this year, but oh, well.

☾𓆙𓂻

a week before christmas you receive a call from an unknown number. the phone speaker crackles when you accept the call.

“hello?”

“hey.” the voice on the other end is bright, smiley, accented. it’s tōru.

“tōru? what’s up?”

“i’m outside,” he says, “come down and meet me?”

you’re a little confused, but you decide to humor him. “uh, okay, give me a minute… do i need anything?”

“bring a coat, it’s cold out. i’ll be waiting down here.” the call ends.

a few minutes later you push through the doors of the building to be met with a brisk wind and tōru standing by a payphone, grinning.

“do you have your subway pass?”

you feel inside your pocket for it and nod.

“good,” he says. “come on, we’re in a hurry.”

“where are we going?”

“downtown.”

“ohhkay?”

he laughs. “‘s not anything you won’t like, promise.”

you follow him into the nearest subway entrance, lost in thought as you push through the barrier and step onto the train. it's only when he nudges you and says, "this is our stop," that you realize you've been looking at the ground the whole time.

tōru notices how absent you seem to be and asks, "are you okay?"

"i would be if i knew what was going on," you respond.

"yeah," he says, leading you up the stairs and into the terminal, "yeah, i think you will be."

you're in grand central. tōru asks if he can borrow your phone for a second. when he hands it back to you, he doesn't say anything, just takes you by the arm smiling widely and leads you into the fray of commuters that fill the station.

"tōru!" you groan, "can't you just tell me where we're going?"

"magnolia," he replies simply.

"we came all the way here just for coffee?"

"mhm."

"tōru!" he stops walking and turns back to you, trying and failing miserably to stop grinning for a second. "what the fuck?"

"come on," he says, "you'll like it."

"we've been here before! what's so special about—"

"you'll see."

☾𓆙𓂻

coffee in grand central is surprisingly good. it's also surprisingly expensive. ah, well, it's new york. new york has much more to offer than just overpriced cafés.

such as... this. such as a laughing man that leads a remarkably pissed-off looking girl by the arm, towards this stupidly good, stupidly overpriced café.

the pair are weaving through a stream of people, almost there, and then they're there, and the girl is looking much less agitated now. she looks somewhere between crying and wanting to run in the opposite direction. thank god, she chooses the former.

he loves you. so much.

☾𓆙𓂻

"daichi?" you mean it to be a scream but your voice cracks a little and it comes out airy.

he has the exact same look on his face that tōru's had this whole time. "hi."

"oh my god, what the fuck?"

"you said it was lonely, tōru told me maybe it would be nice for you to have a date for new year's, i had some extra money saved up. so i came."

"you— what?" you look back at tōru. "you planned this? just? last minute?"

"nah," daichi laughs, "no, i meant to come visit you for christmas a while ago. i already had tickets and everything, i was gonna tell you but then i got your card and figured it might be more fun if it were a surprise."

"oh my god." that's all you can think to say.

— CHRISTMAS 2024.

you can't even explain how good it feels to wake up and walk into the living room to find daichi asleep on your couch on christmas morning, how good it feels for it to not just be you. the whole time he's been here, though, you've forced yourself not to think about the fact that he's going back home in a week and a half, forced yourself not to do anything just yet. soon, though. just a few more months.

☾𓆙𓂻

when he wakes up, you're making coffee for the two of you.

"merry christmas," he says, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. he places a card on the counter in front of you. "open it."

its message is simple.

you do as it says.

"i, uh, haven't gotten you anything yet, but—"

"daichi," you laugh, "it's okay. and um, i may have also not been able to get you anything. also because i didn't know you'd be here."

"wait, wait, i'm not finished."

"okay?"

"what do you want to do after you're done this year of school?"

"i already told you," you say, "i'll move back home."

"no, what do you want to do? you want to go to grad school, right? continue studying here?"

"no, i just want to stop waiting." you sigh, a little frustrated. "i don't wanna have to keep putting this off, it's been—"

he cuts you off. "i'll be here."

"huh?"

"i'll be here. or wherever."

"i don't get it?"

you've always loved the way daichi's nose scrunches up when he smiles. "you're the one planning on studying more, not me. not immediately, anyway. i'll go with you."

"daichi."

"what?"

"you're fucking joking."

he laughs; you look so confused right now. "i'm not. promise."

"i don't even—"

"hey."

"hm?"

"think you can handle long-distance for five months?"

"uh—" you inhale sharply. "yeah."

"good," he says, "then we don't have to keep putting this off."

it's been five months since you last let your lips touch his. it still feels just like the first time it happened.

— 31 DECEMBER, 2023. 19:36 EST.

he tries not to let you pay for dinner, but in the end, you slip the waiter your card while daichi's in the bathroom. it's his birthday; it's your treat.

and after dinner, there's that new year's eve party that tōru's been going on about. it feels good, so good, not to be there alone. it feels good to watch the broadcast from downtown and count the seconds to midnight as daichi's arms are wrapped around you from behind. the clock reaches zero; daichi kisses you hard. you're both drunk on champagne.

you watch him smile across the room at tōru, who's got his girl on his arm. the two of them look happy, too. everything is warm.

— DEPARTURE: 3 JANUARY 2025. 08:15 EST.

daichi's asleep next to you when the alarm on his phone goes off. you'll miss not waking up next to him for the next five months, but at least that's all it will be.

he makes faces at you in the mirror as you both brush your teeth; keeps trying to tug your sweater off when you get dressed. you spend these thirty minutes laughing with him until it hurts. the two of you take the subway back to grand central; make out in a corner of the terminal while he waits for his train to jfk international to arrive.

"see you in may."

— 21 JANUARY 2025.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #daichi fluff #daichi angst #daichi series #daichi smut #kinda #haikyuu series #literally not even like in a romantic way bc thats not how this story goes #but #tōru is best boy #pls he's literally??? so sweet #imagine if boys like this were real #anyway #THIS IS ALMOST DONE ITS THE SECOND TO LAST PART #TECHNICALLY THE LAST BC THE NEXT ONE IS THE EPILOGUE #OMG #ALSO OOPS THIS IS LATE BUT UM IT'S LIKE TWICE AS LONG AS MOST OF THE OTHER PARTS #SO UH YEA

[scoopsgf]

can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it! 

1. 

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

2. 

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

3. 

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

4. 

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it... 

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps. 

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia

[there-must-be-a-lock]

wings & the way down - part 2

Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~1580 this chapter

Warnings: Mild angst. Allusions to ~mysterious~ backstory. Strangers with cookies. 

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely comments on the last part! Catch up here if you missed it. Tag list for this is open. 

Friday, January 3: Derek

Derek is playing it cool. 

Or... he would be, if he could stop freaking the hell out. Whatever. 

He wants to be there early, just in case, and he hesitates. He should grab his basketball — tryouts next week, he should be practicing as much as possible — but then he’d have to carry it around while they walk. He grabs his dog-eared copy of Slaughterhouse-Five instead. 

Spencer seems like a reader. Maybe he’ll be impressed. Derek doesn’t have much experience trying to impress adorably geeky college guys, but that seems like a good start. 

He looks at himself in the mirror one more time and thinks, I can’t do this. 

Then he shakes it off, like he’d shake off the nerves before a big game, and he gives his reflection a smile. What’s the worst that can happen, right? He embarrasses himself in front of a pretty boy, he avoids the park, he never sees the guy again. After the year he’s had, some good old-fashioned rejection would be a cake walk. 

Playing it cool. He can do this. 

He walks downstairs, locking up behind himself and leaving the spare key in its spot — its “hidden” spot, which is a totally obvious fake rock, but apparently here in the suburbs you can just do that sort of thing. 

He walks, enjoying the sun, because January here feels like Chicago’s April. He’s not going to get used to this any time soon. 

Yeah. This was the right choice. 

You deserve to do it on your own terms, his mom said, when she hugged him goodbye in the airport. You can be whoever you want. 

It didn’t feel like he was trying to be someone else yesterday, though. It felt like he was being himself. 

He didn’t realize it could be easy like that, flirting with a guy, teasing and laughing and making Spencer smile. The stupid line came out like it was nothing. The fear only kicked in afterward. 

Derek knows he’s charming as fuck; he’s been making girls smile like that since he was fourteen. And it’s not a skeevy thing — not even necessarily a sex thing — he just likes making people smile. He likes the way they stand a little straighter when you compliment their shirt, or the way they bring a hand to the back of their neck when you admire their hair, and the way one nice comment can startle someone right out of a bad day. 

Speaking of. 

He’s walking into the park, now, and there’s a girl walking toward him, blonde with pink streaks in her high pigtails, wearing thick neon pink glasses and several violently colorful patterns. She looks like Miss Frizzle’s ditzier sister. He kinda loves it. 

“I like your glasses,” he tells her cheerfully, as they come face-to-face on the path. 

 Most people look startled, at first, when a stranger compliments them; they’re caught off-guard. Spencer looked like a deer in headlights, yesterday, when Derek caught his attention. 

Not this girl, though. Without missing a beat, she tosses back, “I like your face, sugar.” As their paths cross, she gives him a cheesy over-the-top wink. 

He retorts over his shoulder, “I ain’t that sweet, babygirl.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she sing-songs, and he’s laughing as they both continue on their way. 

Derek makes his way over to the same spot as yesterday, a round table between two curved benches. He pulls out his book and settles down to wait. Spencer isn’t there yet (which makes sense, considering that “same time” meant “two-ish” and it’s more like one-ish right now) but there are two older men playing chess at one of the tables nearby. Otherwise, it’s quiet: two women jogging, a few families on the playground, a guy throwing a ball for his dog. 

For a while, it’s actually a pretty awesome way to spend an afternoon. He doesn’t really notice how much time has passed until he shifts, stretching some cramped muscles. Then he checks his watch. 

They didn’t really set a definite time, though. It was vague. It’s not a big deal. 

Twenty minutes is a normal amount of time to be late. Derek has pulled that move on more than one first date — which begs the question: is this a date? — but he didn’t expect Spencer to be the type, somehow.  

He starts to get anxious around half past. He can think of a dozen excuses Spencer might use, but they’re all excuses he’s used himself, and they all boil down to I don’t actually care. 

He turns back to his book and tries to forget about the time.

At three, after re-reading the same page for the fourth time, he accepts that it’s a lost cause. He sets the book down on the bench and rests his face in his palms for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

Fuck. He is so not playing it cool. 

There was something about Spencer that Derek can’t stop thinking about, and it’s not his bone structure or his eyes or the way his fingers looked as he fiddled with his chess piece. It was the way he blushed and stuttered, completely flustered and unable to hide it, and the way he brushed it off with, “I’m not used to being flirted with.” It was a genuine reaction. He was being honest. He wasn’t trying to pose or posture or do any of the things Derek would’ve done to protect himself. 

It was the little crease between his eyebrows as he studied Derek intently — too intent to be polite — like Spencer was figuring him out, looking under the surface, seeing him in a way that people usually don’t, because most people don’t care enough to look. Most people miss what’s right in front of them. 

It was the way he sat, legs crossed, unpretentious and almost childlike. 

It was different. He wasn’t hiding anything. Derek’s been hiding a lot, these last few years. It was nice to be around someone who wasn’t, and who made it look easy. 

And yeah, it was also his cheekbones and eyes and fingers and smile, because Derek is only fucking human. 

At quarter past, he starts to wonder what he did wrong. 

Yeah, I’m flirting with you. 

It was like a free-fall, the pause after the words, that frozen moment of can’t take it back now and this is going to change everything. It’s the same hot-cold-terrifying-exhilarating shock he felt in the pause after he came out to his mom — same as the moment right before the jury gave their verdict — same as the moment he walked into school the next day. 

But it was different, because Spencer smiled, all slow and shy. No betrayal, no creeping disgust, no pointed questions or even more pointed silence. 

That easy acceptance took Derek’s breath away. It felt like freedom. It felt like the moment the plane’s wheels lifted off the tarmac, the sickening lurch in his stomach, the blaze of something like defiance as he watched Chicago recede into the distance. 

Spencer smiled, and Derek felt like he could’ve ignored the laws of physics and flown away. If that was what “being out” usually feels like, he could see why people might want to do it. The moment of free-fall — this is going to change everything — was worth it, for that. 

This, though? There’s something cold and leaden sitting in his chest, dragging him rudely back down to earth. He should just go. This is an embarrassing amount of time to wait around for some random guy. 

“Tell me who I need to punch,” somebody calls. “A face like yours should never be frowning, sweetness.” 

It’s the colorful girl from earlier, and Derek can’t help but smile at the way she stomps over and sits down across from him, matter-of-fact and brazen like they’ve known each other for years. 

“I was just waiting for you, babygirl,” he tells her, turning the charm up to eleven, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Penelope. The pleasure is all yours.” She holds her hand out for him to shake — her nails have tiny daisies painted all over them — and Derek kisses it instead. 

“Derek Morgan. Charmed, I’m sure.” 

“So who’s the girl that’s got you all tragic-looking?” she asks, and rummages in her massive bag for a minute before pulling out a tupperware of cookies. “Want one? They’re still warm. I was at my friend’s house, she needed some cheering up, we baked. I promise I’m not some creepy creep who’s going to lure you into their white van, oh my god, I just realized that I’m a complete stranger, and this is totally weird! But — cookies?” 

“I’d follow you anywhere, babygirl. And I will totally take a cookie.” He takes a bite of melty chocolate chips and moans. “Marry me?” 

“Alas, your heart belongs to another,” she says solemnly. “I know that face. Spill.” 

“Got stood up, but...” Derek chews as slowly as he can manage. “Wasn’t a girl.” 

He’s starting to get used to that free-fall sensation. It’s not so bad this time around. 

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry! Men, right?” She heaves a dramatic sigh, and Derek tries to hide his own quiet sigh of relief. “The worst, I swear.” 

“No biggie. Other fish in the sea, right?” 

“Have another cookie.” 

“Woman, you are a goddess. I am so glad I met you.” 

“I’m glad you met me too, Derek Morgan.” 

.

.

part three here! 

.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan

[aaronhart93]

text || aarotin

Discord text thread featuring: Aaron & @quentindelancret

When: January 22nd, early morning into early evening

Mentions: @romanbeckett @davieslandon

Description: Aaron and Quentin fight about Quentin’s drug addiction 

Trigger Warnings: addiction mentions, arguing

Quentin.

you okay baby?

I haven’t heard from you and I just wanted to check in. I love you

Aaron.

I love you too and miss you

Des has just been cranky all night.

Quentin.

oh man, I’m sorry baby. Is there anything I can do to help? I know it’s late but I can bring breakfast in the morning or anything you need

Aaron.

I think she's sick

i have to play the morning by ear. Depends on how she wakes up

Quentin.

okay baby. I hope she’s not sick though. Just let me know and I’ll help out any way that I can

Aaron.

thank you baby. I miss you

Quentin.

I miss you toooo

Aaron.

miss you more

Quentin.

Impossible. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I miss your scent

Aaron.

you have my hoodies. put one on babe

are you at home?

Quentin.

I already did

I am home. I’m supposed to go snuggle Romie but Delilah brought over drugs and now I’m too hyper for life lol

Aaron.

oooo yeah i was gonna ask you to go check on him...but it's okay

Quentin.

I will. I’m just trying to chill out for a minute. He’s gonna leave a key for me

Aaron.

I mean if you’re high...maybe just stay home

Quentin.

uhmm okay

Aaron.

i just dont want you leaving the house so late

Quentin.

I know

I’m sorry

Aaron.

i just....if you knew you were going to go over to his place to take care of him...why would you get high

Quentin.

I didn’t know exactly. He said he was gonna sleep but then he couldn’t, and Delilah was upset and I told her she could come over and talk. Then she had coke and I just... I’m sorry

please don’t be mad at me

Aaron.

im not mad im just

idk

feel some type of way about it

Quentin.

about the coke?

Aaron.

not necessarily. the fact that our partner is sick....you knew i had des tonight so couldn't go over there...i guess i just figured you'd be a little more responsible

it's okay...i dont want you to be worrying about these things anyway

ill take care of both of you.

Quentin.

I can be responsible Aaron. I thought he was gonna sleep. I’m still gonna go over there and take care of him. You both come before anything else for me and I’m sorry I misstepped. But I’m not gonna just leave him hanging.

Aaron.

even if he fell asleep and woke up and needed something...seriously though. i want you to have fun and live your life, im sorry i brought it up

Quentin.

Aaron.. stop it. What is going on with you? I’m fine. I can go over there right now. But you seem... on edge. Are you okay?

I wanna have fun and live my life with you and Roman. I fucked up okay? But I feel like there is something else nothing you

Aaron.

i fought with Landon the other day

Des might be sick

work sucked today and im stressed about Ro

im sorry

Quentin.

baby, I’m sorry. I know the whole Landon situation sucks. I wish I could fix it for you. I know I made things shittier before but I don’t wanna do that. I wanna be here for you. I can come see you after I check on Roman? Help you with Des and give you a massage. I’m worried about you

I’m coming. I won’t take no for an answer. I’m gonna give you a massage and get you in bed. Then I’ll go see Romie. I wanna be there for you both

Aaron.

Quentin, I love you. and thank you....I don't know how to tell you this but...I don't want you around Des if you've been using tonight.

Quentin.

Aaron.

Fine, I’m not gonna argue with you. See you tomorrow then?

Aaron.

yeah

Quentin.

okay

I’m sorry

Aaron.

im not mad

Quentin.

It’s okay. I understand.

I love you

Aaron.

dont be upset

Quentin.

of course I’m upset. I want to be there for you and I can’t

Aaron.

im okay, Q.

Quentin.

that’s not the point

I’m sorry I fucked up. I know you don’t want an addict around Des and that’s my fault

Aaron.

you're sick, i can help you

Quentin.

I’m sick?

Aaron.

addiction...its a diseae

disease

Quentin.

wow, Aaron.

yeah, I don’t wanna talk about this right now

Aaron.

you...brought it up...

Quentin.

yeah, I know. I guess I just didn’t really think you would agree with me

Aaron.

that i dont want someone on drugs around Des? Quentin...

you are making this into something it isnt

Quentin.

no, that you think I’m sick and need help.

I understand you not wanting me around Des. But it’s not like I’d ever hurt her

Aaron.

i know you would never and I'd never keep her from you

just sober up...and we'll talk in the morning i guess

Quentin.

I don’t even know what to say

I’m just sorry I’ve been such a burden.

yeah, we will talk tomorrow

Aaron.

back up

you're not a burden

Quentin, stop making things up in your head

Quentin.

I feel like I have been.

I don’t wanna add any more stress for you

Aaron.

Quentin, listen to me.

i cannot live without you.

Okay?

Quentin.

okay.

I’m just sorry

Aaron.

dont be. im sorry i was harsh

Quentin.

it’s fine.

I love you

Aaron.

i love you too. bring me breakfast in the morning??

Quentin.

of course. Let me know if you need any cough medicine or anything when Des gets up

Aaron.

thank you, my love

goodnight

Quentin.

anytime. Goodnight baby

early evening...

Quentin.

I’m sorry about last night

I’m trying to do better

Aaron.

it was my fault. Don’t worry about it

Quentin.

it wasn’t your fault. You told me how it is and I’ll fix it

Aaron.

okay

Quentin.

good talk

Aaron.

well do you wanna keep talking about it

Quentin.

Nope, I really don’t.

Aaron.

I don’t know what else to say because I don’t either

Quentin.

I’ll just leave you alone

Aaron.

or like we could talk about literally anything else

I missed you today, okay?

Quentin.

yeah, I missed you too

Aaron.

like a lot

I pulled Des from school and had a day with her

it was nice

Quentin.

that sounds fun

Aaron.

it was

Quentin.

I’ll let you get back to it then

Aaron.

oh okay

I love you

Quentin.

you too

Aaron.

Quentin

I’m sorry okay?

Quentin.

it’s fine. I’m really just moody today.

I’m trying to stay away from the happy pills ya know?

Aaron.

I don’t want you to do something that you’re not ready for. If you aren’t ready to stay off of them, then it’s okay

Quentin.

the thing is Aaron, I’m never gonna be ready. I take molly literally every day. Most times people can’t even tell it’s that bad.  But I know it bothers you and Roman and I’m done

Aaron.

that’s brave

and makes me happy. That’s one of the reasons i know you love me

Quentin.

of course I love you

Aaron.

I know

Quentin.

I’m just so sick of disappointing you

Aaron.

I’m not going anywhere okay?

Quentin.

yeah

Aaron.

I’m serious

Quentin.

okay

Aaron.

are you mad at me

Quentin.

no I’m not mad. I just don’t feel like we’re as close as we used to be

Aaron.

because of an argument?

Quentin.

No not because of an argument Aaron

because you just seem distant all the time

Aaron.

I...

im sorry. It’s not on purpose

Quentin.

it’s fine

Aaron.

how can I be better

Quentin.

I’m just gonna take a few days to myself

Aaron.

oh okay

Quentin.

I don’t want to make anything worse by staying here

I get so all over the place with my emotions and without drugs I’m scared of what I might say or do

Aaron.

maybe tell your doctor? For medicine?

Quentin.

I don’t have a doctor

and I don’t want one honestly

they just make me relive shit I don’t want to and that isn’t gonna help anything

Aaron.

I can get you into a primary care doctor with no issue

not a therapist. Just a regular doctor

Quentin. What have I done wrong? It’s obviously something

Quentin.

you didn’t do anything. It’s just me.

Aaron.

tell me how I can help

Quentin.

my expectations and my delusions of how I thought things would be. It’s fine, I’ll handle it, I’ll make it better

Aaron.

how did you think things would be?

Quentin.

different

Aaron.

well what can we do better baby

I will do anything for you

Quentin.

it’s not you. I’m pretty sure it’s all me

ya know.. how I get in my head and shit

Aaron.

what can I do for you when you get in your head

to help

Quentin.

I don’t know. You can’t fix me. It doesn’t work like that

I’m just, I’m tired.

Aaron.

well now I’m scared

Quentin.

of what?

don’t be scared Aaron. I love you. I just, I can’t see you right now. But soon.. okay?

two days. That’s it.

Aaron.

where are you going

why can’t you see me

Quentin.

I’m just gonna go see my brother I think. Maybe fix things with him.

I can’t see you because I know if I do I’ll change my mind about taking some time away

but it’s okay, I wanna see you. Come see me

Aaron.

alright I’m coming

Quentin.

good. I love you

Aaron.

I love you so fucking much

Quentin.

the feeling is very mutual baby

I promise it’s gonna be okay. Alright? I just need to get my head right

Aaron.

okay

Quentin.

and it’s not your fault.

Aaron.

Idk

Quentin.

its me, I swear it’s me. That sounds cliche but it really is. I’m gonna fix it

I mean, honestly. All I can think about right now is how I wanna jump on you when I see you and never let go. But I need to stop being so closed off. I know that just makes you closed off and then I blame you. But it’s not you. You just .. you have this effect on me that really scares the shit out of me

Aaron.

is that effect a bad thing?

Quentin.

uhmmm

I don’t know. Is it?

Aaron.

I don’t know. Is it a good scare or bad scare

Quentin.

both

Aaron.

how do I scare you?

Quentin.

It’s like... you’re so out of my league and I don’t wanna do or say anything to make you leave. I’m like, I’m a lot, and I know I can be. It just scares me that makes I’m too much sometimes

Aaron.

I am not out of your league.

you are 1 of 2 of the hottest men in Kingsboro and I have both of them lol

Quentin.

you are totally out of my league. You’re like, God, I can’t even put you into words. Then there’s me. Partying, acting crazy, doing stupid shit. Idk. It’s like I’m an embarrassment next to you. But I mean, if I’m that hot I must not be so bad lol

you’re also like.. so hot! I can’t breathe lol

#text #text: quentin #discord #quentin

[burnedbyshoto]

burnedbyshoto sleepover

in lieu of reaching 5,000 followers, we are having another sleepover. due to the lateness of this all, this will begin as soon as it is posted, so have fun!

what am I taking?:

f m k

m o s t  t o  l e a s t  l i k e l y

o p i n i o n s  o n  t h i s

a s k  m e  a n y t h i n g

and as always:

p r o m p t s

just as seen before this event will end on January 19 at 11:59 p.m. PST (look at what time california is in if that confuses you). This time I have gathered prompts for you, go ahead and check them out below!

to submit a prompt, make sure to include the following:

character, category/categories, number(s)

if you do not do this I will choose whatever I want, and that’s no fun. I will also not repeat the same number for the same character. so if there are 7 asks for “dabi, angst, 7″ I will do the first one and thats it :) also there’s so many, im sorry LMAO

Fluff:

“It’s too cold! Come back!”

“No, I’m never letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

“I’m not gonna stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“What? Does that feel good?”

“I don’t like [x], I like you.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be so lost. I’m so glad you came into my life.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Us… I like the sound of that.”

“You always know what to say.”

“You weren’t supposed to laugh! I’m so embarrassed!”

“Are you stupid or stupid?”

“Come here, you tiny smug bastard.”

“Just let me lean on the damn cart!”

“This might sound selfish, but I don’t care about the world - I only care about you!”

“Stop staring at me like that.”

“I know how this goes. First, you buy me a drink, then you tell me how pretty I look, and then, at the end of the night, you ask for my number.”

“Don’t get too close to that one, she’ll singe your fingertips and have you on your knees.”

“You have nothing to be insecure about.”

“Take notes, kitten”

“______, we have a problem.” “I’ve been gone for like two minutes.”

“I bet he’ll have that lampshade on his head two shots in.” 

“Does it look like I know what sleep is?”

“No, keep it. I want you to have it.”

“Fine, yes, I did do it for 3 dollars and a lollipop.”

“If you’re gonna make fun of me…”

“Oh my God, …we’re gonna be homeless.”

“Why’d you let go of my hand? Did I say something?”

“I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”

“I don’t regret every second with you, I treasure them.”

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.”

“Today is the day I beat you in a thumb war!”

“I want everyone in the world to know you’re mine.”

“You’re so needy.”

“Need I remind you that your ring finger already belongs to me?”

“OH, you’re jealous!”

“Please just kiss me already.”

“I think you might be my soulmate.”

“I could punch you right now.”

“You’re insane,” “You love me,” “Not right now I don’t.”

“I’m going to fucking smack you in a minute, I swear.” - “That’s not very nice.”

Send in your own!

Angst:

“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

“I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.”

“You deserve someone who values you.”

“I don’t like [x], I like you.”

“I can’t take the loneliness anymore.”

“Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

“I’ve been alone for so long.”

“It isn’t up for debate.”

“I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”

“You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead.”

“You would risk the lives of millions for one person? Why?” - “Because it’s not just one life…it’s yours.”

“This might sound selfish, but I don’t care about the world - I only care about you!”

“It’s okay to break.”

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world all by yourself, you know?”

“You’re a coward, (Name)! You hide away this entirely different part to yourself because you’re afraid that someone might get close to you! You’re afraid that someone might just care about you more than you think you deserve. That - that isn’t fair.”

“Why are you so dead set on this?”

“I find that being a coward keeps me more alive, so no thanks.”

“You can’t tell that I am in love with you because you were too busy loving someone else to notice me.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m done waiting.”

“All I want is for you to look at me the way you look at them.”

“It was a blatant lie when you said that you love me, but I don’t care.”

“Have you ever loved me? You know what, don’t say anything, we all know the answer.”

“It’s time to stop lying to ourselves.”

“Can I convince you to stay?”

“You were no good for me and I was too naive to see that.”

“You did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it.”

“I’ve finally come to accept the fact that you will never think I’m good enough for you.”

“I’m sorry, I think you got the wrong number.”

“Whoever you want to be with right now, that person is not me.”

“I’m sorry that I’m not who you wanted me to be.”

“I thought there’s something wrong with me. Turns out, it’s all you.”

“You used to look at me like that.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if things could have worked out.”

“You know what’s funny? No matter what you’ve done, I’ll still fall for you all over again.”

“Say it, say you don’t love me.”

“I had been in love with you for my entire life and you decided to love me back when I finally gave up.”

“Your ego stopped you from loving me, how sad is that.”

“We aren’t meant to be, can’t you tell?”

“I’m sorry, but…I don’t remember you.”

“I am begging on my knees. Please, don’t do this.”

Send in your own!

Cliches/Situations:

There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close

You confessed your feelings and we’re about to kiss but we get interrupted

We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town

I need a date for this wedding

“Do you trust me?”

I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having

You took a bullet for me

“I’ve been in love with you for years.”

I called you at 2 am because I need you

I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

“I’m in your body!”

Holding out their arm in front of s/o’s view to prevent them from being shot.

Suddenly pulling them in for a dance.

Watching them sleep in the early morning. 

Pleading for s/o to keep walking toward them in the midst of destruction, hand outstretched and desperate. 

Holding their hair back as they vomit into the toilet. 

Taking them to a pet store and falling in love with them as they gush over the millions of puppies. 

Singing together/catching them singing softly to themselves as they cook/do the dishes. 

Video calling them because they miss them. 

Showing up at a club after they’ve called them, drunkenly needing their presence, and then taking them home. 

Breaking up in the middle of the pouring rain/watching them through the rear-view mirror as they drive away. 

Bouncing on a trampoline when they should be adulting/going to work.

Helping them with their homework, then proceeding to distract them. 

Taking them a bath after a long day/mission gone awry. 

Bandaging them up, scolding them for getting themselves hurt. 

Willingly becoming the bait in a mission to save them. 

Going on a mission together, partnering up as husband and wife. 

Fighting side by side, arms raised, guns up in the middle of a battle. 

Calling them during a panic attack, having them rush over to sooth them.

Distancing themselves in order to keep them safe. 

Losing their memory only to have it come back after a much-awaited true love’s kiss. 

Watching over them while they’re in a coma, never leaving their side, never sleeping because they want to be there when they wake up. 

Being in denial about them actually being in love with them. 

Having to erase s/o’s memory of them so they can remain safe. 

Choosing someone else over them. 

Training with them/sparring with them. 

Wrapped up in a sheet after a drunken night, flustered and trying to find their clothes while they watch you amusingly.

Waking up to them making you breakfast while half-naked.

Being utterly touch starved and too shy to ask to be held, so they resolve to brush their fingers against a part of s/o’s skin, etc.

Being the overly protective one during the pregnancy, doing everything for their s/o.

Send in your own!

Smut

“Underwear is optional.”

“Would you prefer my tongue or my cock?”

“There are only two acceptable options: either you eat me, or I’m going to eat you.”

“Remember this: your body belongs to me, and me alone.

“Your body seems to have other ideas.”

“Can you help me take care of this boner?” - “Take care of it yourself!” - “Well, it’s your fault it’s there in the first place!”

“Tonight, no hands are allowed -- only your mouth is acceptable.”

“If you keep moaning like that, you’re going to wake everyone else up.”

“I want you to watch me when I fuck you.”

“Not until you properly beg for it.”

“Don’t worry…I’ll make sure to take my sweet time punishing you.”

“I’m hard.” -  “Sounds like a personal problem.”

“No need to fantasize when the real thing is right in front of you.”

“Stop teasing me, fuck!”

“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

“If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

“I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

“I bet you think you’re really cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”

“You take my fingers so well don’t you?”

“Did I stutter? Do as you’re told!”

“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“Take it off. Slowly.”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”

“Did I say you could stop?”

“I need you. Now!”

“Well since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”

“Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

“So desperate for it, aren’t you? Well, if you want it so bad you’d better start taking it.”

“If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I’m going to bend you over that bed.”

“Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

“You know, you look really pretty when you cry.”

“Look at you, grinding against everything, you’re really desperate for it. Aren’t you?”

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”

“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

Send in your own! 

Types of Kisses

Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.

French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.

Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.

A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person

Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in a mixed company.

A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

Starting with Eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Kisses shared under an umbrella.

Distracting kisses from someone that is meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

Tentative kisses that are given in the dark.

One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

A single loving kiss left on the other’s forehead when they fall asleep snuggled close together.

comforting kisses pressed to tear-stained cheeks between whispered words of reassurance and concern.

Send in your own!

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #burnedbyshoto sleepover

[lya1989]

Lover

aka Love her

Before you read my analysis I would like to say that I’m gay. so is the song. if you think so too, then proceed along.

There will be three components to this analysis,

1. the lyrics

2. the video/visual

3. the song/melody/references to things

and how they all made the song gay so I don’t have to invest my gay in it like Hayley Kiyoko does with songs she likes.

Let’s start with the lyrics:

Verse 1 We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January This is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

The first line has a similar vibe to New Year’s Day. Not only are they celebrating special occasions together but also staying with each other on all the days in between said holidays. (i like to remind you about the christmas tree in ME mv)

The second lines hint at having a place (taylor’s tribeca loft) together which definitely makes it easier for Taylor and her lover (i love this rhyming phrase. a lot) to spend time together in private. No paparazzi means no possible media backlash. They don’t have to fear that strangers are watching, talking and screaming cause it happened before. (see hear: Wonderland)

Not only privacy, they could also “make the rules”. They don’t have to conform to societal pressures, such as whether to come out or to stay in the closet. In their house, (which is basically a multi-story closet) they could be free. Loving each other is never taboo or restricted. In fact, they could control the narrative, who truly knows them, by inviting them to their place. Like their closest friends and family.

Also:

Following the 2nd line analysis, I’m skipping the chorus (which i will touch on later) and going straight gay into verse 2.

Verse 2 We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Again emphasis on making the rules and the call. Only they could choose who knows and who don’t. (Also Taylor and Karlie have more mutual friends with each other than Taylor and her “boyfriends”)

And also a little jealousy from Taylor. This is not unexpected since Karlie is stunting with J**h. There’s also an alleged wedding, so Taylor’s feelings are completely valid. 

“Three summers” is an important piece of information because it gives us a timeline. Joe and Taylor started “dating” around uh... time for a google search.

PopSugar wrote 

But it doesn't make sense for Taylor to get into a relationship with Joe literally two weeks after she broke up with Tom unless he’s a rebound or a contract beard.

A verified contributor to TripAdvisor explained

Let’s say Joe is a rebound but they started dating during fall. That means they only had two summers together at the very most.

So no. Joe is not a rebound which means...

Do you know who has more than three summers with Taylor? Karlie.

In fact, they met at 2013 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. 

Ok, then what happened on 28 September 2016?

Since they had the Big Sur trip in 2014, I can safely say they were best friends.

As time passed, feelings would definitely be developed into something more.

“You’re my best friend” - You Are In Love, released on 27 October 2014

“I don’t want you like a best friend.” - Dress, released on 10 November 2017

“You're my, my, my, my lover” - Lover, released on 16 August 2019 (today!)

I will explain it as we go further. Now on to the long-awaited chorus.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (Forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my lover

Taylor, like we all do, have questions. She uses this style of writing in her songs, (eg “are we out of the woods yet?” “isn’t it, delicate?” “who could stay?”), and it’s always in the chorus and usually repetitive. 

The lyrics in the chorus are quite straightforward. And they are written that way because they provide such a simple frame to showcase such complex emotions.

“Can I go where you go?” shows so much longing and yearning to be with Karlie (and im so fucking soft for this). When you first hear this, the first thought that comes to your head is why can’t Taylor go where her lover go. Then the realisation hits you that if her lover was Joe going wherever he goes isn’t much of a problem but if Taylor’s lover is Karlie, a woman, that’s where all the complications lie. Homophobia, media backlash and people with nothing better to do would just create more hate towards both of them.

“Can we always be this close forever and forever?” This line has a implies that they are physically together and all is well. But then she worries about when is the next time she could be with Karlie again. Will it be a long time?

Metaphorically speaking, if when something big happens, will Karlie be distant from her. 

The third line shows Taylor’s wildest dreams that one day they could go out together without any of the complications and when they are home together, Karlie will stay forever.

(Left: Taylor and fireworks. Right: Karlie and Taylor and fireworks)

Welcome to Bridge City

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue All’s well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Remember you asked what happened on 28 September 2016? 

2016 is most probably the worst year for Taylor in her career. Let say that she wrote reputation in late 2016 to early 2017. Since she not only writes about recent experiences but also nostalgia (and reputation is about finding TRUE love despite being hated by said people who has nothing better to do), it would be fitting to write about Karlie. More specifically, the realisation when she loves Karlie romantically.

In this city, the lyrics mimic a wedding speech said by the groom/bride. It is a common gesture to stand as the bride/groom says their wedding vows to each other. 

The words “borrowed” and “blue” references to an old traditional wedding rhyme on what a bride should wear at her wedding:

“something old

something new

something borrowed

something blue

and a sixpence in her shoe.”

“All’s well that ends well” means that if the outcome of a situation is a happy one, it cancels out all of the unpleasantness faced on the journey. To Taylor, ending up with Karlie is the best possible outcome, and all the hardships will be worth it.

So it other words, marriage is something Taylor and her lover wants. Usually, before someone gets married, they are engaged. So I conclude that 28 September 2016, three summers ago, is the official anniversary of their engagement. (gasp in mock shock) (they might be engaged around August in Wyoming see Karlie insta)

Not to be worried, she will be overdramatic because drama loves her. And she will be TRUE to Karlie because what they have is TRUE love.

(if you do not know what “all eyes on us” means click here)

In the lyric video, word “overdramatic” has a space in between. Over dramatic as if she’s finally going to stop being in the center of drama? (not that she can help it when drama loves her)

I love the phrase “dirtiest jokes” because it shows how comfortable they are with each other. (this is funny cause Taylor’s parents would leave the room just to not hear dress)

And now they are bound together by love, Taylor will always treat Karlie as her other half, hence saving a seat (beside her,  at the head/end of the table facing each other, etc), as they are of equal standing. Two halves of a whole. Yin and Yang.

Even with all the proof mentioned above, hets be like “but Taylor sang the magnetic force of a man.”

First of all, it’s a publicity stunt. She does it all the time (eg naming her song style)

Second,

(check out @badcode )

3. Analysis on everything else

Lover is the complete opposite of The Archer. It has 1989 sounds with a county feel that make you feel soft with a tinge of sentimentality and wonder.

The lyrics are reputation styled which talks about TRUE love and contentment. 

The bridge, in particular, is a glow up from speak now.

Also the usage of feminine terms of endearment such as babydoll, darling, dear, honey in her songs. I honestly cannot imagine taylor calling any of her “boyfriends” them.

(im just like god is a woman and her name is taylor swift)

Some fun facts that might blow your mind (click link):

-Track 3

-The length of Lover is 3:41. and 1:43 means i love you

-Why You Are In Love is not entirely about her friend’s perspective. Also

TLDR; Lover is a song about Taylor and Karlie’s wedding.

There’s a reason why the song (and the album) is called Lover and not Husband.

#taylor swift #gaylor swift #kaylor #queer analysis #lover #if i have wrong info or you want to add on or remove pls dm me

[painandpleasure86]

Friends will be Friends - Fic Series “Deaky’s Diary” Chapter #2

Author’s note: Hi! January 26th I had a fic inspo with the same John from the fic I can’t live with you (but I can’t live without you) because of some words from Bri when some Japanese fans gave to Roger and him some gifts, and there haves one for John. This is mere imagination, but this is my realistic imagine about the reaction of John knowing that he will receive a present from his old bandmate...

Indeed this will be the second fic of a new series, “Deaky’s Diary”, where I’ll write the reaction that I imagine that John would have about certain sucesses around his life. I’ll actualize this when I think that’s necessary!

The reaction of him with the panic attack was inspired in the one described in one chapter of My life has been saved by @deakysgurl​

Perhaps my John it’s very smoker, but i’m inspiring in myself and my addiction to mate (a southamerican kind of tea, but with the effects of coffee).

Oh! This fic series will have a tag dedicated. Will be #deakysdiary. Follow it to know new chapters and related stuff!

Summary: The following week of his wedding anniversary he receive a couple of surprises that will touch his deepest feelings... and that made him take a decision.

Warning: slightly angst, mention of panic attack, some swearing, some friend-fluff (?)

Word count: +1.5k

Permanent taglist: @warriorteam1924​ (if you want to be in that list, send me a msg or ask)

“And there’s Deaky, we’ll have to make sure he gets that”

------

January 25th, 2020

After a week from his anniversary, this Saturday it’s quite normal. Waking up early, drink his necessary tea, smoked some cigarettes, took his medicines. Recharging his emotional batteries to hang on another day.

Knowing that his old bandmates were on tour with that kid named Adam made him felt some melancholy. Watching at the window, contemplating the horizon, remembering good times. Remembering the love that Japanese fans gave to him since his first visit in mid 70s. Remembering being in that TV program with Roger in 1984, where he entered with a gorilla head over his one and saying “number eight, hachi ” when he was asked to choose the prettiest guy between seven guys. Remembering knowing that Music Life dedicated an entire mag with his material in Japan in 2019.  He miss Japan a lot.

“Teo Torriate konomama iko, aisuruhito yo” he sung in a murmur, smiling like an idiot. Even crying. “Aisuruhito yo Japan… I couldn’t thank you enough for your love…” he continued, wiping away some tears, trying to smoke properly. That was his fourth cigarette in just a couple of hours. 

Still remembering good times, noticed that he had just one cigarette remaining in the packet. “Shit. I must to go to the kiosko to buy some cig. And with that, the annoying people trying to get an autograph or pic from me…”. Started to be pretty nervous just for thinking that, he started to breath more quickly. He rested his back in some kitchen mobiliary, his head was reclined, his left hand in his chest, his right hand with the cigarette. He was trying to calm him down, remembering the advice of his therapist. After a couple of minutes, he felt better. And called to his wife.

“RONNIEEEEEEEEEEE!”

She came to the kitchen quickly.

“What’s you need, hun?” she asked kindly.

He hates to be called “hun”, so he watched at her annoyed.

“Ugh John, for god’s sake!” she exclaimed, sighing. “Well, what’s you need? Oh, indeed, morning!” she greeted him with a kiss in his right cheek.

“Morning, lady”. He couldn’t resist to smile a little. “I need that you buy me some cigarette packets, y’know which ones” he said giving to her the money. Sighing, he added “I don’t want to deal with that people” watching directly to her eyes.

“Of course h- ehmmm John” she chuckled a little. “I’ll come back soon, don’t miss me!” she added going to the main door of the house. “And if some people asks for you, I’ll say that you’re sleeping!”

Smoking his last cigarette, he thought “well I’ll check the internet for some news, were some days without connecting”.

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

He goes to his studio and turned on the PC. Expecting what’s up in the fandom. 

But he didn’t expected that. Saw the Bri’s posts and the screenshots of Roger’s instastories from the Queen exhibition, where they were remembering him. And he cried. “I miss you bunch of goofballs, I still love you… I’ll always thank you for understand me… and i should be there with you. Having fun. But without Freddie isn't the same. Sorry…”

Meanwhile he was wiping the tears of his eyes, Ronnie knocks softly the door.

“Come in!” exclaimed him.

She opened the door. After that she approximated to him.

“Well John, I bought like 4 packets of Marlboro Slim, were the 20 on-… What’s wrong dear?” she asked seeing the red eyes of her husband.

He responded “just remembering good old times with the guys, and they also were remembering me in social media. I-” blewed his nose with a tissue. “I need the cigarettes! Thank you hun, bye” he said quickly quitting the packets from the hands of his wife, while she was watching surprised. After that, she left the studio thinking “Christ, sometimes this man it’s so strange...”

Leaving three of the four packets over his desk,  opened the remaining quickly and smoked one cigarette. Reclining in his chair, exhalated the smoke , remembering when Roger stolen his cigarettes. “Haha, I miss you Meddows” said smiling.

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

January 26th, 2020

That morning he woke up thinking in the guys, “perhaps I could send a message to them, I miss to talk with them so bad… No. Better not. I’ll stay silent and just reading their mails as an approval.” he though meanwhile he was getting up of his bed. 

Make his ritual. Tea, pills, cig. He was daydreaming while he was smoking at the level that he forgot the boiling water.... But at least didn’t happened a disaster.

After that, he made the tea. Still thinking in send some message to the guys. Still refusing to do that. “They surely will want to meet me and I don’t know… they? To my house? Everyone will know.” he was thinking, sitting in a chair of the kitchen’s table.

Meanwhile he was quietly drinking his tea, the phone rang.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Leaving the cup of tea in the kitchen’s table, he answered the call.

“Hello.”

A soft voice sound from the another side of the phone.

“Hi Deacy!”

John was surprised.

“BRIAN?! Why you’re calling me? I think that I told to you and Roger that you can only calls me in very extreme emergencies”, responded kinda angrily.

“I wanted to know how you are… we didn’t speak properly since a lot of time…we’re in Japan on tour…” responded the astrophysicist.

“Yeah Bri, I knew it…” he couldn’t resist to smile. “Thank you for remembering me lately…”

“Not only Roger and me, also Spike miss you… tonight in the soundcheck we had a technical problem and he said “surely if John would be here, that problem wouldn’t happened”

John can’t respond, smile and some tears want to be free. 

Sniffing, trying to sound serious, asked “Just for that Bri?” He was starting to starve for his cigarettes. But that where in the table, next to the cup of tea.

“No… Emmm you didn’t checked the internet already?”

“Eh… no. And last night I wasn’t online. Ronnie insisted that since last Saturday night, every saturday night it's time for cheesy movies” sighed rolling his eyes. 

Brian laughed a little. “Similar thing with Anita happens to me too… Husband thing.” Coming back to the convo, he added “well you don’t know, but Japanese fans gave to us something to you… you will have it soon”

Deaky was surprised.

“What’s that?”

Bri smiled again.

“Check the internet Deacy, or wait some weeks”.

John couldn’t hold the tears more time. He starts to cry. He haves a response for all his own questions that he made before that morning. He made a choice.

“Erm… Thank you…  for... calling me Brian!”

Brian was surprised for the mood change.

“I don’t understand you man, a few minutes ago you were complaining about this call!”

“But… I… I miss you! I also miss Roger.... and Spike… Please tell to them that I miss them and I love them so much. I... I love you too mate!”

“Please repeat that words again… they’re listening to you”.

Roger and Spike were listening all the calling but Brian didn’t told that to John to surprise him. 

John couldn’t reply properly. They could listen to the 68 years old man crying. After a moment, he could do it. “I miss you guys, I hope that you’re fine!”, were his words.

Roger replied “It’s mutual bud. We should meet!”

Spike added “We can made a BBQ… oh, shit Bri it’s vegan! Well, we’ll do some grilled vegetables to him, haha!” laughed the keyboardist.

Being emotional, John said “yeah! Call me soon to schedule that meeting! Will be in my home if you want”

The three screamed “yeaaaah!”

“Your wives are also invited!” added John.

“See ya soon man!” they said.  Brian turned off the speaker. “Very soon” whispered Brian. “Bye Deacy, have a nice day”, he added.

“Good… Night?” asked confused John because of the timezones.

“Yeah, here’s night. Well… early morning.”

“This is the Bri that I know” thought John meanwhile, smiling. “Good early morning then, haha” told him.

They hung up. And after a couple a minutes he realized that they will come back to his home. And that his tea was cold. “Stupid Bri and his calling” he exclaimed, meanwhile he was bringing the cup of tea to the microwave. 

Ronnie entered to the kitchen and listened that words from her husband.

“Brian… CALLED?!” she asked surprised.

That ask almost makes that his cup of tea falls to the floor.

“God, Ronnie, I had already enough surprises!” He put the cup of tea in the microwave to warm his beverage a little. “And morning”.

In the next weeks, the couple will receive in their big mansion some old friends and the new couples of their friends. They have a lot of things to speak. A lot of time to recover. A lot of hugs and laughs to give and receive. Remember a bit why they were friends. And that they will be friends, right till the end.

-----

Please reblog if you enjoyed it!! This is the way to make more visible my work. New chapters will come when I consider neccessary!

-Lily

#painandpleasure86 fics #deakysdiary #queen fluff #queen angst #john deacon #brian may #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #queen fic #rhapsody tour #q+al #veronica tetzlaff #spike edney

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

A love that never leaves (5)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. WW2 Bucky swears so much. SMUT, so 18+ please.

A/N: Every love story begins somewhere. This is the first time I’ve really written 1940s Bucky, so I hope I do him justice. Also I may have a fondness for punching Steve Rogers in the balls, what can I say. Remember those hidden items from Chapter 2? Some of them pop up again!  

Tags are open, if you want on the list please send me a DM or ASK, it’s easier for me to track. Otherwise you can find the new updates each weekend!

MASTERLIST ALTNL MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously...

Silence stretches longer and longer and Bucky finally realizes his lungs are burning. He lets out his breath with rush and leans forward. Elbows on his knees, he tries with everything in his heart, to remember.

“We’d met? Before then? We knew each other?”

She sits up straight, never breaking eye contact. Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she searches for the right words. Bucky feels his heart thump wildly while he waits; her voice is laced with sadness when she speaks.

“The first time we met was in 1944. I was wearing grey and you were wearing blue.”

*****

Early January 1944 Somewhere in France

Bucky lays flat on his back, staring at the puffy white clouds floating by. Ears ringing, he breathes in a lungful of wet smoke while he waits.

Calming breaths, they always say. Clear your mind. Focus.

The bullet whizzes through the broken front window and explodes an empty water pitcher, covering him in shards of glass and yeah, that did it.

He’s fucking pissed.

“You piece of shit fucking asshole!” he shouts, flipping angrily onto his stomach and crawling toward another narrow window.

Hours of fighting and here they are, with Bucky stuck in the still smoking bones of a bombed-out apartment, unable to hit the sniper victoriously camped in the bell tower of the village church. Below him, Steve, Gabe, and Dugan are crouched behind the burnt shell of a truck, waiting patiently for him to sort it out.

Well. Patiently might be a lie.

“Barnes, I’m hungry,” Dugan calls up. “It’s not that hard, just point and fuckin’ shoot.”

Hunched now against a broken wall, Bucky grits his teeth while he reloads and calls down an insult.

“Maybe it’s time you tried a god damn diet, shithead. I’m fuckin’ working on it.”

He waits until the next shot comes, a zinger cracking the frame of the window beside him, and then he pops up, fires into the bell tower, and ducks back down.

“Anything?”

The only response, is another bullet, fired through the retaining wall. It blows through siding, pelting him with chunks of wood. One particularly jagged piece smashes into his right hand, slicing it open and drawing a line of blood from thumb to pinky.

“OUCH! Fucking ouch! God damn chickenshit motherfucking cocksucker, fuck you,” he yells furiously, briefly contemplating how many bars of soap his Ma would shove in his mouth if she heard his language. Switching the gun grip to an equally proficient left hand, he peers through the new hole in the wall, searching.

There.

An eagle-eyed gaze catches it, a momentary flash of skin through a chink in the stone tower. Holding his breath, Bucky finds his shot and fires.

Even from here, he knows it lands. There’s a moment of suspension, before a body collapses forward, catching on the wide window ledge and flipping out. Whistling through the air, it lands with a sickening crunch on the bricks. Down below, the men grimace.

Smiling grimly, Bucky climbs to his feet and leans against the busted window frame, lifting his helmet to mop up the rivers of steaming, muddy sweat streaming down his face.

Christ, this helmet smells like shit.

Slinging his rifle around his shoulder, he looks down to where the guys are still crouched. He points down at Dugan and holds up a middle finger.

“You owe me a smoke. Jackass.”

*****

Liberation creates a carnival atmosphere in the little French village.

Back on the ground, Bucky wanders through the crowds, accepting handshakes, slaps on the back, the occasional fervent kiss on the cheek. The flurry of excitement is tempered by a few harsh injuries, those who suffered before Captain America and his Howling Commandos arrived this morning.

Howling Commandos. Jesus H Christ, the PR war machine was sheer insanity, Bucky thinks contemptuously. Here comes Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s right-hand man! He makes the shot! He saves the day!

If he has to see one more of those idiotic comics, he’ll fucking scream.

With a dirty towel wrapped around his still bleeding hand, he stalks the injury line, searching for Jim Morita, because he just fucking cannot sew it himself. Last time he tried, he puked up beans on his own boots and Dugan laughed at him for three days and he’s not doing that shit again.

“Jim, can I get some help?” Bucky finds Morita setting a broken leg and drops to his haunches, unfolding the towel. Morita takes one look at it and shakes his head.

“No time. Sew it yourself or wait.”

“Well I ain’t god damn doing it. I’ll fuckin’ wait,” Bucky growls irritably. Stomping off with a huff, he plops on a bench and pulls the make-shift bandage tighter, wincing at the sting.

He finally has a few moments to himself, so he sits and hangs his head. Closes his eyes and relives that final shot. His stomach churns at the memory and he takes those deep breaths now, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Like so many times before, today was no different.

Down to the wire, all on the line. Here comes Bucky Barnes. He makes the shot. He saves the day.

That fucker deserved to get his brain splattered, but sometimes…Jesus. Sometimes he gets tired of doing the dirty work like this.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely notices when clunky leather boots stop in front of him.

Annoyed with the intrusion, Bucky looks up to find a woman looking down at him. She’s dressed in grey, dark trousers rolled up at the ankles, a light grey men’s shirt that looks two sizes too big, and a tattered leather belt. A moss green coat drapes her frame, falling to her knees and she has a black scarf tied around her head. Dropping a pail of fresh water next to him, she kneels in the dust at his feet.

Without a word, she takes his wounded hand and gently unwraps the dirty rag. Digging in her pocket, she pulls a clean cloth free, dunks it in the water, and carefully cleans the cut. Once the blood and grime are washed away, she pats it dry and motions for him to hold the cloth in place. Producing a sewing kit from her other coat pocket, she finds a clean needle and unwinds a length of blue thread.

Bucky’s so captivated by her efficiency, so mesmerized by the way she catches her tongue between her teeth, that he barely feels when she starts to stitch the skin together. Struck dumb, he gapes at her and let’s himself be manhandled. Glancing up, she offers a quick smile, before going back to her task.

It all happens in a matter of moments, but to Bucky?

A lifetime passes.

Nimble fingers make neat little stitches, and far too quickly, she’s releasing his hand. He swallows several times before he can finally make a sound. When he speaks, charm oozes from every pore, because he’s James Buchanan Barnes, for fuck’s sake. Shooting Nazis and hunting Hydra and talking to women are what he does best.

According to him, at least. Summoning his confidence, he pours it on.

In French.

“Bonjour,” he says smoothly and gives her the adorable smile he reserves for beautiful women and his Ma, when she’s really, really pissed. “Je vais avoir de la chance ce soir. Il y a de belles femmes en france qui ne m'aiment pas.”

Standing a few feet away, Steve Rogers makes a strangled noise and drops his face in his hands.

“Je m’appelle Sergeant James Barnes,” Bucky continues confidently. “Quel est votre nom?”

“Bucky,” Steve sidles up behind him, hissing under his breath. “You fuckin’ moron, you just said you’re getting lucky tonight and the women in France don’t like you.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bucky hisses back. “I said I’m lucky, because she’s the most beautiful woman in France. I know how to speak fuckin’ French, Rogers.”

“Actually, he’s right,” she says. Clearly and in perfect English. “You need to make sure you keep that clean, Sergeant. I have fresh bandages if you need more.”

Bucky’s jaw drops.

Beside him, Steve, now officially his former best friend, starts laughing. Clapping Bucky on the shoulder, he gives the woman a grin.

“Sorry mam, we’re still working on his French. Great with a gun, always makes the shot, but you know – bit of an idiot sometimes.”

Swinging a blind fist behind him, Bucky punches Steve as hard as he can, which happily lands right in the balls. Steve backs away wheezing and Bucky smiles serenely up at her.

“Ignore him,” he says conspiratorially. “He drinks.”

Bucky feels his heart bounce wildly when she laughs. It sounds like music. He preens under her indulgent grin, before she moves along to help someone new.

On that cold January afternoon, covered in sticky blood and dirty sweat, and stumbling through terrible broken French, Bucky Barnes falls head over heels in love.

*****

Later that night, with their camp set up on the edge of town, the Howlies collapse. Plates of supper are passed around, followed by swigs from a beat-up silver flask; slowly and with certainty, the circle of men drifts from snarky, ribald jokes, into deep, dreamless sleep.

All except for two men.

Flicking the lid of his lighter, Bucky fingers the rusty coils. The night sky arcs like black silk above him and he thinks. About war. About death. About life and whatever the hell he’s gonna do when this thing ends, if he makes it out alive.

Somehow, that last thought leads him back to the woman he met earlier. Pretty smile, pretty eyes, pretty stitching. Pretty far out of his league. Can’t hurt to dream, though.

Lighting up the smoke he stole from Dugan’s pack, Bucky takes a long drag. He makes it halfway through, before restlessly tossing it into the low embers of the campfire. He climbs to his feet.

“I need a walk. You fuckers snore so loud, I don’t know how all’ve Hydra hasn’t found us.”

Keeping his eyes trained in the pitch-black night, Steve waves him away.

*****

White moonlight shines down into the clearing and she drops a basket of bloody, grimy cloth next to the creek. Singing under her breath, she dunks the cloth in the freezing water them and starts scrubbing. In the light of the moon, the rusty red blood turns black and for a moment, she can believe it’s nothing more than dirt. Dark stains bleed away in the lazy flow of water and life begins to feel clean again.

A small blessing, after a day of bloodshed. As she works, the words to her favorite song drift in and out, peppering the tune.

“We’ll meet again…don’t know where…don’t know when…but I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day…”

The quiet snap of a tree branch, of a footstep in the grass, abruptly shatters the night.

Heart in her throat, she draws a knife from her belt and leaps to her feet. Wide-eyed, she whirls to find the dark-haired man with the brilliant blue eyes from earlier – Sergeant Barnes, he said.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes softly, raising both hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I was just – I was walking and I thought I heard someone.”

She considers him for a moment. He’s taller than she thought. All lean muscle, moving with a slow grace that puts her at ease. A shadow beard covers his face, creeping down his neck, and his short hair looks smooth as black satin in the colorless night. He gives her a crooked smile and she lowers the knife, tucking it back at her belt.

“How is your hand?” she asks, her voice floating through the small clearing. Bucky glances down at the white bandage and flexes his fingers.

“Fit as a fiddle,” he says with a grin. “Thank you. For earlier. Although you did such a good job, probably won’t even scar. How’m I supposed to brag about my war wounds if you fix ‘em up so nice?”

Her lips curve up. “Something tells me you’ll find plenty more opportunities for trouble, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky. Please, call me Bucky,” he ducks his head bashfully when he offers the nickname. Ambling toward her, he points to a smooth rock close by. “Is it okay if I sit?”

In the space of a moment, his voice has gone soft and shy and she wonders how a man who seems so confident, can demonstrate such a sweet vulnerability. It charms her far more than the swagger she saw earlier today.

“Only if you promise to help,” she finds herself saying and he perks up.

“Anything you need,” he offers, folding his knees under as he plops down.

She hands him the edge of a sheet with the instruction to hold tight. Bucky grips the fabric in his left fist while she twists it tighter and tighter, wringing every last drop of water from the cloth. When it’s semi-dry, she hands him another, and another one after, until her basket is full.

They work in companionable silence. She glances up now and then, to find him watching her. Each time she meets his gaze, he gives her a slow smile.

As the last piece of cloth is dropped in her basket, she wipes her hands on the trousers and rubs sleepy eyes. Bucky jumps to his feet and reaches down, offering her a hand up. When she folds her cold fingers against his hot skin, the spark of electricity rockets down her back and explodes in her toes.

Oh.

Swaying slightly, she releases his hand quickly and steps back. Opting for distance between them, she picks up her basket and holds it in front, a useless barrier from the strange feelings his touch awoke. Her brain urges her to bid him goodbye, to walk away and not look back.

Her heart though. It has another plan.

“Would it be okay – could I walk you home?”

Part of her wants to say no. Beginning anything with a Soldier, it won’t end well. She’s been down this road before. She doesn’t think she can survive it again.

But the nervous hope she finds in those blue eyes stirs her soul, and she says something unexpected.

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky insists on carrying the laundry basket and they move slowly through the trees. The walk is oddly comfortable, filled with shy glances and an occasional brush of shoulders that makes her belly swoop. Guiding him along the edge of the town, all too soon they arrive at her little cottage sitting at the dead end of a narrow street. She takes the basket from his arms and balances it on her hip.

Quiet words warm the cold air around them, both prolonging the goodbye neither wants to give. It’s the ferocious barking of a dog down the street that finally makes her jump.

“I should get inside,” she says reluctantly and Bucky nods, looking down to watch his boot drawing a circle in the dirt. “But, now that you know where to find me, maybe you’ll come by sometime? Let me take a look at that hand?”

When he looks up, his smile takes her breath away.

“I absolutely will.”

“Goodnight Bucky.”

“Goodnight darlin’. Sleep well.”

*****

Two days later, a tentative knock sounds on her front door. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she opens it to find a soldier on her doorstep.

“Good morning,” Bucky says hesitantly, brandishing a bundle of holly. “Hope I’m not bothering you. I, um – I was hoping, maybe you could have a look at my hand?”

“Come in,” she beckons and Bucky steps inside, the smell of wintery air clinging to him. In the confines of her small home, he seems larger than life, this quiet American.

She collects a chipped white pitcher from her closet and fills it with water, arranging the holly and setting it on her kitchen table. Suddenly, she’s overwhelmed by color – red berries and green leaves, blue eyes and brown hair.

He lays his hand on the table and she unwraps the bandage. Beneath the strips of white, she finds something peculiar - after only two days, the wound looks several weeks old. Staring for a long moment, she finally looks up in confusion.

“That’s impressive.”

“I – yeah, I heal pretty quickly. Good genes, I guess,” he stutters. For some reason, she hears a twinge of panic in his voice.

“Well that’s great,” she says with a smile, her thumb brushing the thrumming pulse at his wrist.

“Yeah. I guess,” he mutters to himself.

With quick snips, she removes the stitches and dabs a bit of Vaseline along the line of puckered skin before wrapping it up again. Over and done then, there’s no real reason for him to stay longer, but – she doesn’t want him to leave just yet.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she offers. “It’s more hot water than coffee these days, but I have a bit left if you would like?”

Eyes brightening, Bucky happily accepts.

*****

“So, you’re not from here,” he guesses, wrapping his hands around the steaming mug. “Your English is perfect. Better than most’ve the soldiers I know.”

She appears to choose her words carefully.

“No. My mother was French, my father was German, but I lost them both when I was young. After that, I found myself in London. I learned there.” She runs her finger along the rim of her cup, not looking up.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. Without thinking, he reaches across the table to touch her hand, but pulls back at the last moment.

She thinks to herself, she wouldn’t have minded. She clears her throat and tries to smile.

“Tell me about you. About America,” she encourages. “I’ve never been, but always wanted to visit. What was Bucky Barnes like growing up in Brooklyn?”

Bucky leans back in the chair and crosses his ankles with a coy smile.

“Full of trouble, if you ask my Ma. But let’s just say all my worst decisions came from growing up with Steve Rogers.”

The late morning bleeds into early afternoon as they sit and talk. Conversation flows easily, punctuated with lazy grins and surprised laughter, and in her sunny kitchen, she feels a lethargic sense of peace. Something she hasn’t felt in years. Since before they came, before her world ended. Since that November night in Berlin.

All too soon, the shadows are stretching across his face and the battered living room clock strikes the late hour. Both of them start at the sound, before realizing how long they’ve been sitting together.

“Dammit,” Bucky mutters regretfully. “I better go, I’m on watch tonight.”

“Okay,” she says, disappointment in her voice. He reaches across the table again and this time, his fingers catch hers. He squeezes.

“Thanks for helping me today. Your bedside manner’s a helluva lot better than Morita. He usually just tells me to quit whining,” he gives an exaggerated eye roll as he rises from his chair and she laughs once more..

God. In one afternoon with him, she’s laughed more than in the past year.

It’s addictive.

Bounding down her back steps, Bucky heads toward their camp and she leans against the doorframe, watching. No more than a hundred yards gone, he spins around to see her one more time. Giving her a jaunty salute, he turns and takes off running.

It happens right there.

Shivering as the fresh air whips around her, she watches the silhouette of a soldier running toward the coming darkness. Slow as syrup dripping down her skin, the feeling sticks.

On that cold January day, wrapped in warm laughter and drowning in the blue of his eyes, she falls head over heels in love with Sergeant James Barnes.

*****

One of the small comforts in wartime, is consistency.

Each Sunday, the town still gathers in the small church to give thanks, an attempt for normalcy amid the increasingly bleak news arriving from the front. Here, everyone is welcome. Religion, race, nationality, none of it matters. She loves this progressive little village, where differences are celebrated, never shunned.

This sunny morning, she’s late. Hurrying down the aisle as the buzz of voices begin to settle, she finds a seat near the front and slides inside. Pulling off her gloves, she glances around the morning crowd.

Her heart jumps when she sees them.

Side by side, the two broad-shouldered men sit in the pew across from her. Both have carefully combed hair, one dressed in a brown leather jacket, the other in dark blue. As the Priest begins the opening prayer, Bucky meets her eyes and gives her a grin.

She turns away quickly, her jumping heart now racing.

One prayer rolls into another and then another after that. Occasionally peeking over, she finds the same scene each time. Captain Rogers kneels in the pew, head bowed, eyes closed, while Bucky – he doesn’t even try to fake it. His eyes are always fixed on her and when he catches her looking, he wrinkles his nose and makes a silly face and she looks away, fighting the urge to smile.

An hour slips by and as the service nears its conclusion, there’s a moment of contemplative silence. In the pious stillness, she hears a muffled thump. Looking over, she sees Steve glaring daggers at Bucky, who’s now rubbing his arm and glaring right back. Both men glance her way and when Steve catches her eye, a bright red flush blooms across his cheeks.

And Bucky?

He winks.

When the service ends, the low hum of voices picks up, people greeting each other, exchanging news. Pulling her gloves back over perpetually frozen fingers, she steps quickly into the aisle. Head bowed, she walks along, feeling a heated gaze following her. Unable to help herself, she peeps behind her one last time, and Bucky gives her a brilliant smile.

Everything about him is so big and bright and full of life. Her answering smile is so natural, it shocks her.

She steps into the fresh sunshine and she knows she should hurry home, she really does.

But instead, she lingers.

He catches her there, a light touch at her elbow. When she turns, the sun makes a halo behind him. Clear eyes meet hers, and she sees his face shaved smooth, his hair still damp and slicked back. There’s something almost angelic about him, this man she first discovered covered in the bloody aftermath of battle.

She thinks she’s never in her life seen someone so beautiful.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks hopefully, that edge of shyness creeping into his voice. When she nods mutely, he offers his arm and she wraps leather fingers around the folds of thick blue.

Their walk home is slow, meandering. People hurry by, saying hello and hiding their smiles at the sight of the handsome soldier so clearly smitten.

When they arrive at her front door, she throws caution to the wind and takes the plunge. Cupping Bucky’s face in her hands, she brushes her thumbs over his clean-shaven skin and presses her lips to his. He’s stunned at first, the pressure taking him by surprise, but then he responds with wild enthusiasm, lifting her up and spinning her in a crazy circle.

They’re both laughing, trading the sounds of happiness between them. Bucky keeps kissing her, his arms locked around her like he can never have enough and the taste of his first sweet kiss sears itself right into her heart.

*****

Life falls into a familiar pattern.

Bucky comes by every day. Once with a handful of sharp scented pine boughs, so fragrant they fill her entire home. Once more, to give her the bundle of colorful postcards he’d collected from his travels through Europe; cheeks flushing pink, he added a hand-painted card of Brooklyn Steve had drawn him, with two curvy hearts he added on the back. And then once again, with a handful of smooth, silvery blue pebbles he found in the riverbed. Little trinkets, small things to make her smile and –

To remember him. When the war drags him away again.

Every day he leaves her with a kiss, at first light and chaste, then harder and bolder, hot touches that burn. She knows she plays a dangerous game, balancing her heart on the blade of his knife, but she can’t find the motivation to stop.

And every day she waits for the axe to swing. For his orders to come, whatever new mission will march him away, back to whatever hell awaits. Every day she holds her breath, releasing it only as the sun sets, thankful the fragile world they’ve created lives to see another sunrise.

But one week turns into two, and that turns into three, while the Howlies wait for instructions. As the days pass, the men grow impatient, desperate to move along and tackle their next fight – all except Bucky. The longer he stays, the more he settles in the rhythm of life with her.

Steve is bemused, when he mentions it to her one night.

“I’m glad you found him that day, he’s had a – it’s been a hard war. For Bucky especially,” Steve looks into the distance, unfocused for a time as he sips a glass of watered-down whiskey. When he looks back to her, his eyes are serious. “I’ve never seen him this happy, so thank you. For keeping him together.”

Two days later, the inevitable message arrives.

The team sits in the town’s little pub, a cozy wooden building housing an out of tune piano and an old man who saws away on his accordion every night. Bucky leaps to his feet when she appears in the door and the men cough, hiding their laughter.

She greets them all, but her eyes are for one man alone.

“Will you walk with me?” he asks quietly, tangling his fingers with hers and tugging her into the cold night. They stop just outside the pub and he stares down at boots. Disappointment rolls off him in waves and she doesn’t want to ask; she knows what’s coming. Putting a cold finger under his chin, she tips his face up.

“Bucky?”

“We’re heading out at dawn,” he mumbles miserably, his shoulders slumping.

“Oh,” she says. Because that’s it. There’s nothing more she can say.

He puts his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his never-ending warmth and she goes gladly, wrapping her arm around his waist. They begin to walk, making it behind the pub, before he leans to kiss her, and she catches him close. Walking her quickly backward, she bumps into the wall and his mouth is like fire as it trails down her neck, the tip of his nose ice cold as it follows.

Breathing hard, she holds him tight, pressing her body against him and Bucky groans quietly against her throat. Her mind racing, she steels her nerves to make a request.

“Come home with me. Stay with me tonight. Please,” she whispers.

He pulls back, surprise and desire playing over his face.

“Are you sure? I’m not expecting anything, you don’t have to – ”

“Stop,” she says, holding her fingers to his lips to shush him. “I’m sure. It’s been a long time for me, since I’ve been with anyone, but if you want – ”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “God, yes. Since the first day we met – you’re the only thing I’ve wanted.”

Like shadows they move through the dark streets, until they reach her home. There’s no hesitation as she unlocks the door and pulls him inside. Hands clasped together, she leads him upstairs and the sound of his heavy boots following her makes her stomach flutter.

Opening her bedroom door, she steps inside and Bucky pauses, surveying it all. Green quilts on her bed, a small stone fireplace in the corner, a cracked mirror and a dressing table by the window. Photographs in simple frames, a small jewelry box and a silver brush. A little dish by her bed holding the handful of pebbles he brought her. Little fragments of her spread through the room, and he drinks it up greedily, memorizing everything.

He closes the door behind him, still watching her carefully, as though he genuinely can’t believe his good luck. Without a word, he sheds the thick blue coat and unlaces his boots, kicking them away.

“Come here,” she murmurs, reaching for him.

He stands before her in the low firelight and she runs her hands up under his long-sleeve wool shirt, urging him to remove it. When he yanks it over his head and tosses it aside, her mouth goes dry at the sight. Cool, curious hands trace the hard planes of his body, through the dark hair on his chest, feeling the silver dog tags hanging from his throat, the pads of her fingers brushing over the wealth of scars scattered across his body. He sucks in his breath when her hands reach his trousers, but then she’s unhooking the buttons and pushing them down his legs and Bucky chokes back a stuttered groan.

Pushing him lightly, he drops to her bed and looks up with wide eyes. She slips her shoes off, stepping between his knees and she watches his hands clench tight, waiting. Her fingers fumble just a bit with the buttons at the top of her dress, and as each one pops free, his breath comes faster. At her waist, she shrugs her shoulders and the dress slides off, pooling at her feet.

Bucky blinks rapidly, stunned at the sight.

Reaching for his hands, she grips them tight and places them on her hips. Through the filmy white fabric of her underwear, the heat from his skin burns hot and she steps into that safe space, craving the warmth. Bucky tugs her forward, wraps his arms tight around her waist and buries his face into the softness of her belly. His breath huffs against her, and she combs her fingers through his hair, the nervousness slowly ebbing from his body.

When he finally looks up, the lust in his face nearly brings her to her knees.

Rough fingers catch in the band of her underwear and he drags it down, holding his breath until the reveal. She unclips her bra and lets it fall away, and he closes his eyes briefly at the sight, of her naked and open for him.

He wants to devour her.

Gripping her bottom firmly, he lifts her up and settles her legs on either side of him. The only barrier between them is the thin fabric of his cotton boxers and she utters a low moan when she grinds herself against him. That simple sound, her unexpected reaction to feeling him, nearly sets him off.

“Look at you,” he whispers hoarsely. “God, darlin’ I’ve been dreamin’ every night about this.”

Twisting quickly, he shoves her back into the quilts, covering her body and slanting his mouth hungrily over hers. She twines her arms around his neck, hips pushing against him.

Full body shudders rattle through her when he moves down her body, lips finding her breasts, teeth tugging gently at her nipples. Digging her fingers into his hair, she arches up and he slides an arm beneath her, keeping her body bent into the heat of this mouth. Bottomless black eyes lift to watch, and he sucks harder, relishing her breathless reactions.

If she let him, he’d stay there for days, teasing and tasting and touching, but she tugs at his hair, begging for his lips again, and he crawls back up her body. Shaking hands bracket her face and she feels him, hard and heavy, between her legs.

“You’re okay? You’re sure?” he murmurs in her ear and her heart nearly bursts at the concern in his voice.

“I’m sure,” she breathes.

At her promise, Bucky wraps a shaking hand around himself and shifts his body. With one smooth move, he buries himself inside her and the stretch, the thick feel of him, it punches the breath from her lungs. When his hips are flush against her, he stops, resting his head on her chest while he squeezes his eyes shut.

When he looks up, the raw emotion in his face is a stark reminder of what this means. For both of them.

She never knew.

Never understood it could be like this. That it could feel this way. Her heart hammers furiously against her ribs, so hard she marvels that it doesn’t crack her bones and fly away.

Bucky pulls her leg up, hooking it around his waist, and his hips begin a slow roll. Staring into her eyes, he pushes into her, again and again, the drag of his cock catching unknown nerve endings, sending pleasure rippling through her. Minutes drift by, time meaningless as they move together. She locks her fingers behind his neck, her back arching with each thrust and he’s lost in the uniqueness of her, the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts, every mark on her skin.

And when he looks down between their bodies, to where he can see himself pushing into her, he nearly comes at the sight.

“Can you come for me darlin’?” he rasps, his hips unconsciously snapping faster. “Can I help you?”

She releases her grip on his neck, one hand sliding to hold his sweat-slicked bicep, the other reaching between them to touch herself. “Kiss me,” she urges, and he complies, slipping his tongue between her parted lips. He can feel her fingers rubbing between her legs, pausing now and then to touch him, to feel the way he thrusts into her and he groans into her mouth.

Fighting himself harder than he’s ever done before, he tries to keep from coming, desperate for her to beat him to the finish. Broken little noises leave her throat as he drives himself into her, faster and harder, his rough thrusts lighting sparks beneath her skin, until she suddenly clutches him close. Bucky feels her body spasm around him, squeezing him so fucking tight while the tremors wrack her body, and he swallows down her breathless cries.

“That’s it darlin’, that’s it, there you go,” he pants against her lips, grinding himself into her until he follows right behind, coming with a soft grunt.

Chest heaving, Bucky strokes his fingers down her sides, reveling in the silky feel of her damp skin. When he can catch his breath, he rolls onto his back, keeping her tucked against his chest. She clings to him, refusing to let go.

Pressing trembling lips against the sheen of sweat on her forehead, he pulls the blankets over them and locked together, they fall asleep.

*****

The barest hint of morning light illuminates the eastern horizon when Bucky eases from the bed, tucking the blanket around her to keep the cold draft away. Regret already licks up his spine at the thought of walking away, of leaving behind the precious world he’s found here with her.

He buttons his trousers, laces his boots, slips on his coat. Quickly, quietly, efficiently, like a good soldier does. He adds more kindling to the red embers of the dormant fire, coaxing it to flare again, knowing if he can’t be here to keep her warm, something else will have to do.

Minutes rush too quickly now, and as thin fingers of morning light inch across the land, Bucky knows his time is up.

Falling to his knees beside the bed, he rests his chin on the mattress and brushes gentle fingers down her cheek. Her eyes are still closed, but he knows she’s awake. Lips curve up at his touch and Bucky leans in, pressing his lips lightly to hers. Reaching from under the covers to wrap her fingers around the back of his neck, she keeps him close. She deepens the kiss and Bucky sinks into it, his mouth moving eagerly against hers. The heat builds, until he pulls away with a reluctant sigh.

Opening her eyes, she finds him nose to nose with her.

His black eyelashes are so long, she wonders how he ever sees through his scope.

“I love you.”

She sucks in a shocked breath at his declaration. But he’s so perfectly composed. Content with the words he’s offering, ones she never expected. After everything she’s been through, everything she’s done, she never believed she could have something like this.

“Bucky – “

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts. “I don’t expect anything. I just wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know.”

Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe it’s not possible to feel this way already. Maybe sweet words will crumble to dust in the harsh light of day.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But here’s the thing. The world is at war and Death walks in his shadow, stalking him with her sharp bullets and shaper blades, and God knows what the future will bring.

She only knows she wants one. She wants this. She wants him.

“I love you too, Bucky,” she whispers, and the words feel right. Her fingers rub the short hairs curling at his neck and Bucky melts into her touch. “Don’t go. The world can wait, can’t it? I want you to stay.”

“I want to stay. More than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he whispers back, nuzzling into her neck. She turns to brush her lips against his beard and she feels him swallow hard. “I’ll write you. Often as I can. We gotta use code names out there, so don’t be surprised when you get letters from some strange guy named Jimmy.”

“Jimmy. I like it,” she says with a sleepy smile.

His grin mirrors hers and he kisses the tip of her nose. When he speaks again, a hint of desperation bleeds from the sweet drawl.

“Wait for me darlin’, okay? Will you? I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“I will,” she says softly. “I’ll always wait.”

Just like that, he offers his whole heart and she gives hers freely in return. Both know their world is dark and unforgiving, and this war could make liars of them both, but neither cares. To find love in this bleak life is a rare opportunity and the temptation is too strong.

Bucky kisses her one last time and rises to his feet. She watches him pause at her bedroom door to give one more crooked smile, and then the door is clicking shut and he’s gone. Alone again, she curls into a ball under the heavy blankets.

It’s hell, she thinks, to love a soldier.

Burying her face in the faded green pillow, her heartbroken tears fall fast and thick, soaking silently into the soft cotton.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

Tags are open right now, if you want one, please send me a DM or ASK.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #altnl

[countess-rosegold-blog]

Checking Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, nothing really happens

Word Count: 1,149

Note: This is the first part of a mini-series I’m trying to finish. For the main note, check the MASTERLIST HERE. 

If you happen to like, re-blog, or drop any feedback, thank you! I appreciate you.

You groan in the dark. You're in bed, blankets wrapped around your body and it's the wee hours of Saturday morning. It would have been cozy if not for the fact that you're awake way before sunrise because you've dreamt about Howard Fucking Stark. Again.

You sit up slowly and grab your phone to check the time--4: 14. "Stupid, stupid Stark," you grumble. You know sleep is a lost cause at this point so you peel yourself away from bed. Grabbing your phone, you head to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water.

You scroll to your conversation and begrudgingly type a text:

You and this Angel girl better end up getting married or I'll strangle you to your death.

The shrill sound of your ringtone moments later almost gives you a heart attack. "Jesus Christ!" You yell in the emptiness. Then you answer the call. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Good morning to you too, love."

Annoyance builds up in your belly. "Don't call me that."

"Why not? You're my beautiful girlfriend, after all." You can hear him smirk through the line.

You scoff. "Please."

"What was it this time, love? I'd like to say nightmares, but your text didn't seem like it," you hear him humming through the other end, as if thinking about it. Then silence. You're thinking you lost the connection until he's back saying, "Was it... a wet dream?"

"Stupid jerk!" You say it with indignation but he's having a hearty laugh. "Why are you even awake?"

"So it WAS a wet dream!" More laughter.

Urgh! There's no winning with him. "Get over yourself, Howard."

"Well I'm flattered, thank you very much. And just so you know, I've been up all night working for this project I have for her, so maybe we'll get married in the future, after all." You can hear the smile and can almost picture it on his stupid face. If he wasn't so in love, you know you'd give him hell. But this was different. A first. So you let it go.

"Good to know. Well, you better get on with it then."

"I miss you too, Y/N." He drawls.

"Bye, asshole."

You hear his laugh ring in your ears long after you've hung up.

When you're left to your thoughts again, you groan. The idiot was right--it was a wet dream. Which was disorienting because you never saw him like that. Despite your shenanigans for the last month, you and Howard Stark have been nothing but platonic since forever. You were good friends with him--which made you question your life choices--but nothing's changing that.

On one of his tech trips to L.A. last December, he met this girl whom he was clearly enamored by. And just like every other woman, you simply thought What's new. But the girl turned down Howard's invitation for dinner and did not want anything to do with him, which WAS new and boy was it refreshing. Like a proper adult man and despite not being used to it, Howard sucked it up, found him some other woman who'd say yes, and went home to New York.

But January came and the months following that and he still can't stop thinking about her. Convinced it wasn't a simple crush, he decided he'd Man Who Can't be Moved his way back to the City of Angels and look for her again.

She was working for the Cyber Circuit, a big time tech website. He'd known that detail at the tech summit where they'd met and that she was called 'Ange', but nothing more. Equipped with that mere knowledge and his dedication, Howard marched his way to the Cyber Circuit building and asked the front desk very nicely that he'd like to meet up with 'Ange'. You'd think there would be a lot of ‘Ange’s in the building, but Howard Stark must have done some good in a past life or some alternate universe because he found out right then and there that 'Ange' was the one and the only Angela Martinelli, badass Managing Editor of the Techs of Tomorrow section.

Still, his personality in THIS lifetime counts and the front desk informs him of what he already knows: Angie doesn't want to meet him.

That didn’t deter him, of course. He bought five dozens of sunflower bouquets and had them sent to her office with a simple note--You are radiant than any of these sunflowers combined.

She did not appreciate the sweet gesture, though, thanks to her allergic rhinitis.

The memory of his efforts make you laugh. You catch yourself; you’re alone in your dark kitchen, after all. And in these early hours before dawn, you reflect.

Who would’ve thought. Howard Womanizer Takes-Nothing-Seriously Stark, finally smitten. You sigh, happy for your friend but alarmed for your future. You don’t know why but you have the feeling that if Howard, of all people, gets to find the love of his life before you do, it spells doom.

“Oh God,” you say to no one, panic in your voice. “This is why people should be asleep at this hour.” You wash the glass and prepare to head back to your room when out of the shadows, a figure manifests.

Your heart drops to your stomach and you scream--until you register what the figure is. “Fuck!” You scream at the coat rack that carried your gigantic and fluffy windbreaker.

Your heart rate barely adjusts when there’s a knock at your door. “Y/N! Everything alright? Are you okay?!”

Great. Now the neighbors are awake. You make your way to the door and open it, steel blue-grey eyes looking at you with concern.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I woke you!” You whisper to him.

“No, you didn’t. I was awake. You okay?” He steps closer and the hallway light brings shadows to his face; his light stubble accentuating his jaw. “Is someone in there?”

You’re surprised by his concern. “Wha--no. I’m alone.”

He looks inside then at you. “I heard you…”

“Oh!” You feel your cheeks burn. “I’m really sorry. I was on the phone, then had a little panic attack by the shadow of my windbreaker,” this makes you chuckle. “Otherwise, I’m good.”

His expression softens. “Okay. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile, touched by the thoughtfulness in his eyes. It is this time that you notice that he’s barefoot, combined with his plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, his short brown hair a little tousled. Wow, he’s so... pretty.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m gonna…” he gestures with his hands to his door, a sleepy smile on his face.

“Really sorry. And thank you, James. For checking up on me.”

His face brightens, “You’re welcome, doll.” You begin to close your door when he adds, “Oh, and please call me Bucky.”

Part 2: Pickles Favor

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

[artificialqueens]

My Diamond Crowned Queen Pt. 1 (Ravja) - Chardonnay

A/N: Part 1 of 2. Based on Raja’s “Diamond Crowned Queen” music video (if you haven’t seen it yet, go watch it. You won’t be disappointed). Part 1 is the tease, Part 2 is the smutty follow-up. Enjoy!

It was a warm day in Riverside, California despite it being the end of January. David sat in the bathroom of his home applying face powder as he slowly transformed himself into Raven. It was a Monday, only the middle of the day, but David liked to start his process early so he had plenty of time and didn’t feel rushed to finish his intricate paint. This week was going to be a good time at Micky’s, the girls who were away filming the third season of Drag Race had just come home, and tonight was the LA girls’ first night back at Micky’s. Delta and Raja were the 2 queens selected this year to compete on the reality tv show to represent West Hollywood, and David was particularly excited to get to hang out and party with Sutan again after so long apart.

Before Drag Race, Sutan had been away on a “world tour” with Adam Lambert. He had been gone for almost that entire year travelling the world, and in that year David’s whole world had been flipped upside down.

He never thought that competing on a low-budget reality tv program run by one of the most famous drag queens on the planet would actually change his life. But fast-forward a year and Raven had quickly become one of the most famous and celebrated queens in West Hollywood. She landed herself a permanent hosting gig at one of LA’s biggest gay nightclubs and her “fans” would flock to see her perform.

He had briefly seen his friend for a couple of days before Sutan left for filming, and the show was all they could talk about. Their time together wasn’t long, but for those couple of days the two of them felt connected in a way that they hadn’t since their last interaction over a year before. Connected though shared experience. But there was something else, something new looming over their conversation as well. Nearly 2 years ago now, before Rupaul’s Drag Race or world-wide tours, Sutan connected with David in a completely different way. After a long day of work and an even longer night, the 2 men drunkenly hooked up in Sutan’s West Hollywood apartment. It was totally impulsive but also some of the best sex David had ever had, and then it unexpectedly happened once more before Sutan left for his tour. Now there was something new in their interactions, a flirtiness in the way Sutan looked and smiled at him, but David didn’t let anything go too far as he knew Sutan would soon leave again to film the show. He wanted to try to keep things casual between them, but Sutan’s last night before leaving for Drag Race involved a little too much wine and an unanticipated heated makeout session.

As David finished blocking his brows and began the long process of contouring, his phone rang. It was if someone had been reading his thoughts when he saw Raja’s name pop up on his caller ID. David was surprised Sutan was even awake this early, knowing they didn’t have to be at work until 7pm that night. David put his phone on speaker as he continued to paint.

“Hello? Is this who I think it is? The elusive unicorn himself who only comes to visit me once a year?”

“Oh my god you are so dramatic” David could hear Sutan rolling his eyes through the phone, but just hearing the sound of his voice at all made David smile.

“Bitch I feel like I haven’t seen you in like a year!”

Sutan sighed “I know I’m sorry I’ve been busy and-”

“I know, I know its fine, I just miss your face. Now what was so urgent that you couldn’t wait a few more hours to tell me in-person? You better not be cancelling tonight I swear…”

“No, no I’m not.” Sutan assured him, “I actually called because a couple of days after I got home I met with a music producer.”

“A music producer? Why? You don’t make music.”

“Well guess what bitch? I did! I recorded a song”

“…really?” David was skeptical.

“Yes! And I’m calling to tell you you’re going to be in my music video.” David took a second to process everything Sutan had just told him, he never in a million years thought Sutan would be the type to want to make music.

As if Sutan was listening to his thoughts, he interrupted “I didn’t actually sing that much, I mostly just made the song so I could make my own videos for them. Part of my artistic vision. So are you in?”

“Sounds like I don’t have much of a choice…” David teased.

“You don’t”

“Okay then I guess I’m in.” David laughed and tried to play it cool, but he was actually very flattered that Sutan had thought to ask him and curious about what this video would entail.

“Cool, I just sent you an email with the song file attached. They just finished the final mix yesterday so I’m trying to organize the video shoot as quickly as possible. Give the song a listen when you can and text me what you think. I gotta make another call.”

As soon as David hung up the phone, his curiosity got the better of him and he immediately opened up his email and found the file from Sutan entitled “Diamond Crowned Queen”. David rolled his eyes, “real subtle…” he thought to himself. He was still in the process of finishing his face, but he figured he could multitask and listen to the song while he painted. He was wrong.

The beginning of the song was certainly something! It was obvious that Sutan was not a master lyricist or any kind of singer, but the beat was actually not that bad so David continued to follow along, amused by the exceedingly sexual lyrics. So Sutan. Then the breakdown of the song came and his bathroom was filled with the all-too familiar sounds of Sutan moaning and whispering. He knew very well that Sutan was an extremely…passionate person, so although this kind of thing didn’t exactly surprise David, it was still very bold. And provocative. David had to stop in the middle of painting as possible scenarios flew through his head, did he just agree to be in some kind of soft porn film? Straight away David texted Sutan to ask what exactly this video shoot would consist of and what he’d gotten himself into.

“You’ll see ;)” was the only message he got back.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Exactly 2 weeks later Raja stood on the rooftop of one of his apartment buildings setting up cameras and a blank white drop sheet on the wall. This video was being filmed on the lowest possible budget, but Raja knew he wouldn’t need much more than himself and the three other people he’d casted to make it work. He wanted the concept to be very simple and the focus would be on his 3 favorite things: clothing, sex, and himself.

Raven was the last to film of the three friends he featured in the video. The other two shoots were done the day before and went incredibly smoothly as everyone easily fell into their roles without hesitation. There was lots of messy kissing and smudged makeup involved which was always a good time. He was having way too much fun making out with all his hot friends, and he intentionally saved Raven for last. David was the first person Raja thought of when he envisioned this video. He needed someone who was good-looking, strongly resembled himself, and who he knew he had tangible sexual chemistry with, and David checked all of those boxes. This final shoot was going to be different from the others, he wanted to use that connection and tension he felt with Raven ever since their drunken hookup all those years ago. It was strange, Raja couldn’t get the thought of them together out of his head, and he was the master of random, meaningless sex, usually a fuck em and forget em type. But for some reason it was near impossible to forget that night with David, and he craved more. So of course his very first thought was to cast Raven in this very specific role.

David arrived on set exactly as Sutan had instructed him to, with his foundation done and brows blocked but nothing else. He always felt ridiculous without brows, like some kind of alien, but knowing Sutan that was probably the look he was going for. David was a bit nervous when he arrived, but seeing that they were filming outside relaxed him a bit. They couldn’t get too nasty if they were filming on a rooftop, right?

Raja was sitting off to the side viewing something with the 2 camera guys when he saw David walk in and waved him over. “Hey! I’m just watching some playback of the footage with Mario I shot yesterday. I’ll come over in a second and we’ll finish your makeup.” David was curious and glanced over Raja’s shoulder to see what the scenes looked like, and to no surprise it was a lot of aggressive, messy kissing. “So this is what I agreed to”, David thought “I’m getting paid to have makeup smudged all over my face…” He was a bit unsure how he felt about doing all this for a music video. Of course he’d made out with Sutan a few times already but never in drag and certainly never in front of a camera. He gave a nervous smile as Raja turned around from watching the playback.

“C’mon, let’s go get your makeup finished.” He took David’s hand and led him over to the makeshift makeup station set up on the opposite side of the rooftop. “The idea is I want us to look as similar as possible, so we’re just going to keep a light contour to eliminate our facial features and no brows”

“You’re not letting me wear eye brows?” David whined.

“Nope, I want us to look like twin androgynous aliens. And I have these cool foam wigs too” Raja always had the craziest and most creative imagination, but he also had good taste so David trusted his vision. He sat in the makeup chair as Sutan started getting all his brushes out. “You brought your blue contacts right? I want to really focus on your eyes so I’m not putting on as much liner as you usually do”

“Okay fine.” David said, I’m trusting you with my face which is a pretty big deal for me y’know…”

“Bitch relax, I know what I’m doing. You’ll look good.”

David sat in the chair and let Raja work on his face and transform him into his own version of Raven. It had been a long time since anyone had done David’s makeup for him, and he forgot how much he loved the feeling, especially with Raja doing it. Their faces were so close together, and seeing Raja so concentrated studying him like a painting combined with the soft touches of the brushes against his skin created a kind of quiet intimacy. They chatted casually about the shoot. According to Raja they weren’t going to be moving around too much, staying pretty much in the middle of the white drop sheet, and Raven’s job was very simple: just stand there and look pretty for the camera. The thought relaxed her, looking pretty was something she could do.

“Now I know you usually do a more matte color on your lips, but I want both our lips to look more full and highlighted so I’m using a gloss. I think a lighter one than I have on will suit you better. But I’m warning you now…” Raja continued with a playful smile “we’re both going to be wearing each other’s shade by the end of the shoot.”

Raven laughed softly but inside she felt her stomach flip. Raja had been away for so long, and ever since that night years ago Raven couldn’t help that every thought of him was invaded by that intense look in his eyes before he kissed her, or the way his bare skin felt electric against her own. She missed him so much, and each interaction they’d had since had been oozing with underlying sexual tension. The anticipation for this video shoot was making her both anxious and excited. Raja finished up applying her gloss, even the feeling of the wand was sensitive against her lips, and she couldn’t help but notice the way Raja took his time. He was being especially gentle and slow, seemingly transfixed on the fullness of her pout. She didn’t know it, but the anticipation was mutual, and Raja couldn’t wait to have Raven the way he wanted once again.

Raja was someone who very much liked to be in control of things. He was an artist and a creator, and he liked when things turned out exactly as he envisioned them. This was true for his art and in his personal life. Most people wrote him off as a submissive or passive person because of his more feminine qualities, but in reality Raja was the polar opposite. He was disciplined and authoritative, and very much a “my way or the highway” type of person. He was hotheaded, competitive and bossy, and he absolutely loved getting his way. Being the creative director for a music video was like a dream to Raja, as he got to make every decision down to the last detail. He also enjoyed telling other people what to do and how to stand and how to act, even the mere thought of it was a complete turn-on for him. His vision of Raven’s role in the video was very much inspired by their first time together, his thoughts were constantly filled with memories of how well David complied with all of his directions. He wanted Raven to be a subset of himself and his own desire for sex and control, hence why he dressed them the same. He needed Raven to follow and trust him completely, and Raja was eager to have him in that vulnerable position again.

After Raven’s makeup was finished, Raja went to grab the outfits they were both going to wear as Raven looked in the mirror at Raja’s work. She was actually amazed at how good she looked and how similar she looked to Raja yet still like herself. Not that she ever doubted Raja’s makeup abilities, but she knew her face wasn’t the easiest to work with. When Raja returned Raven wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the leather harnesses that he held in his hand. She was glad she made the decision not to eat anything today in case she had to take clothes off on camera, but it seemed like they wouldn’t even be putting clothes on to start with. She did wish she had a drink though, because every new revelation was giving her a better idea of the direction this video was going in.

“You want me to wear that?”

“Yeah, why? Are you not into leather?” Raja joked.

“I-no it’s not that, I guess just…not what I was expecting? But its fine! I’m fine.” Raven stumbled over her words a bit but tried her best to play it off.

“Okay good, take off your shirt” Raja’s instructions were short and direct, reminding Raven a bit of his tone during their first sexual encounter. And just like she did that night, Raven immediately obeyed and discarded her t shirt as Raja did the same. The cool breeze felt good against her newly bare skin. Raja tried both of the harnesses on them, deciding which one looked better on himself and which looked better on Raven. As Raven tried to put each of them on she struggled, unsure of how to properly fasten clips and which strap went where. Raja looked at her and laughed “Oh my god, what are you doing? Come here” as he helped her dress. She felt a bit embarrassed, clearly not having much prior experience with these things, but she gladly accepted Raja’s assistance. Even just the simple touch of Raja’s fingers on her bare torso made Raven’s pulse quicken, but she suddenly remembered that they weren’t alone with the small camera crew present and tried to push any unholy thoughts out of her head. She had to remain professional.

Once they made a final decision about their attire, Raja gave Raven a quick run-down about what he wanted them to do as they made their way over to the white backdrop.

“The song is going to play through those speakers beside us so that I can mouth the words while it plays.” he gestured to the left, “You don’t really have to do much, don’t lip sync or anything. I just want you to kind of stand there and look at the camera and really just…do whatever I tell you to do.”

“Whatever you tell me to do? I’m not sure if I like the sound of that.”

Raja smiled and stepped a little closer, murmuring low enough that only Raven could hear “Actually if my memory serves me correctly, you very much enjoy being told what to do.”

Raven blushed as memories of submission and obedience came flooding back, and Raja was right she had enjoyed it, more than she ever thought she would. “Yeah but that was different, we were alone!”

“Then just pretend we’re alone now too, there’s only like 2 camera guys here anyways.” Raven still looked a bit hesitant. “Look, I have a few pre-planned ideas but I’m mostly just gonna do whatever I’m feeling with the lyrics, so you just react or do whatever feels natural too. I’ll direct you if I want something specific.”

Raja reached out and gently took Raven’s hand, trying to calm her nerves. “Don’t you trust me?” Raven looked into his dark eyes and nodded her head and smiled. She had a really hard time saying no to Raja. “Good, now go stand in the middle of the white backdrop so I can tell you how far you need to stand from the camera.” Raven did as she was told as Raja stood behind the camera and continued to direct her, “A little bit closer. Closer…perfect stop there.”

“So are we just being shot from the waist up or do we have to take our pants off too?” Raven half-jokingly asked.

Raja looked up from the screen. “Well I wasn’t going to but you are more than welcome to take them off. I know I wouldn’t object.”

Raven laughed and looked away as Raja gave her an appreciative look. She still wasn’t completely used to Raja sexualizing her so openly in front of people. She’ll have to get over that embarrassment quick, Raja noted to himself. These people were going to witness a whole lot more than that.

Raja made his way back over to stand beside Raven and the other guy not working the camera came to mark their places with tape. Raja could still sense a small wave of nervousness from Raven, so he was glad he had made the decision to close off this part of the shoot. He had gotten rid of pretty much everybody who wasn’t completely necessary because he knew this one was going to be much more intimate and authentic than the others. He hoped it would make Raven (and himself) a bit more comfortable with less eyes on them.

“Okay so for this first part I want you to just stand straight on looking at the camera. And just look…cool” Raja instructed.

“Cool, sure okay.” Raven laughed a bit at Raja’s vague directions. Again she was wishing she had a drink (or four) to take the edge off. Why was she so nervous?

“You know what I mean.” Raja rolled his eyes as he stood right beside her, so close that Raven could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Just stand there, just like that, and don’t move.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious Rave, don’t move. Even if I touch you.”

“Okay!”

Raja leaned in even closer so close Raven could feel his breath against the side of her face. His eyes were fixated on his fingers tracing over the designs in the tattoos on her shoulder, his mouth right next to her ear.

“Because I’m going to. Touch you. But you have to stay still. You can’t even look at me.” Raja’s low, stern voice in her ear sent a shiver up Raven’s spine.

“Okay” she whispered.

Both queens turned their eyes toward the other and there was something, a silent understanding coupled with an intense anticipation burning between them. Raja’s eyes glistened with a heated but playful energy, almost challenging Raven in a way, and suddenly the air around them shifted. Raven felt her nerves begin to dissipate as she fell into that rare yet familiar role, a surrender reserved for one of the few people who dared to assert control over her. Raja felt her submission as the authoritative energy took over him, and he knew both of them were finally ready.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

The first few takes were admittedly a little clunky. Raja decided they would film the video in pieces rather than running it straight through and having to fix their makeup a thousand times. He also had the idea that as the video progressed he would allow Raven more and more freedom to react to his manipulations, which he knew would become increasingly intense later on. Right now Raja had Raven standing stock-still and staring at the camera as he moved around her. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing yet, all he knew is that he wanted Raven silent and motionless like a prop he could use however he pleased. The thought alone was exciting to him, but actually having her here proved a bit more overwhelming than he anticipated. Raja mouthed along with the words of his song while he improvised around her, posing and draping himself over her, whispering in her ear, and smoothing his hands over her shoulders and chest. Raven was doing pretty well not reacting to the touching, for the most part she stood completely still and her eyes never left the camera. But when Raja starting lip syncing in her ear and their faces got a little closer, Raven couldn’t stop herself and let out a small laugh.

“Raven!” Raja stopped the camera and gave her a look.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Raven covered her mouth to stop herself from giggling more.

“Stop laughing. This is supposed to be sexy!”

“I know! I’m sorry” Raven tried to straighten out her smile, “but you have to admit that ‘thunder-breathing dragon cat’ is kind of funny. How high were you when you wrote this?” Raven couldn’t help the smile that was sneaking back onto her face.

Raja tried his best to act offended couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped too. Raven always somehow managed to clock his intoxicated antics exactly, however he wasn’t about to admit she was right. He needed to keep Raven under control and her unexpectedly shading his song lyrics was not part of the plan. He stepped directly in front of her so the only thing the camera operator could see was Raja’s back, their faces only inches apart so that only they could hear one another. Raja tried his best to eliminate any amusement from his voice that Raven’s teasing caused. He needed to remind her who was in charge here.

“Stop it Rave. I need you to take this seriously”

“I know. I’m really trying to, I swear-“

“Are you?” Raja tried to keep a rigid tone. “Because I told you I need you to do exactly as I say”

“I know.”

“And that didn’t include your shady commentary about the song lyrics. I specifically remember asking you to be still and quiet.”

Raja was being strangely serious about this, Raven wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She was slightly intimidated by Raja’s authoritative tone but also kind of turned on. Raja was really hot when he got angry. She opened her mouth to apologize but Raja cut her off, leaning forward so his mouth was right above her ear. His right hand tightly wrapped around her wrist.

“If you can’t behave properly and follow instructions I’m gonna have to take you inside and remind you how to act. And believe me, you don’t want that.”

Raven didn’t even have a chance to react before Raja suddenly spun around to face the camera man, smiling again. “I think we’re gonna do a couple more takes and then switch it up a bit, move on to the next part”

For the next few takes Raven did exactly as she was told. She didn’t make any noise, she just stood and stared directly into the camera lens as Raja continued to touch her neck and shoulders while he lip synced. However her mind was distracted by Raja’s calm, casual warning in her ear and wondering exactly what he meant by “remind her how to act”? The thought of Raja taking Raven inside to punish her was strangely arousing and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Submitting was one thing, but actually looking forward to punishment? That was not something Raven was familiar with. There was just something about Raja that seemed to make her crazy sometimes. The tension between them was tight like the knot in Raven’s stomach, yet he was still so gentle with her. The stark contrast between Raja’s stern words and his feather-light touches was driving her crazy, and she wished so badly that Raja would let her do something other than simply stand there, unable to look at or touch him.

Raja on the other hand was fully enjoying the complete submission he felt from Raven after their little talk. He wanted to see if she really was trying to take this as seriously as she said, so Raja found ways to knowingly test her limits. He would intentionally touch her as softly as he could, breathing the song lyrics next to her face and letting just the tips of his fingers dance across her collarbone, and then suddenly he’d move to the other side and grab on to her shoulders and neck harshly to see if she would react. But she was so good for him, staying still and doing exactly as she was told. Her eyes never diverted from the camera, but Raja could still see the combination of distraction and need behind them. It was a game of wills they were playing, and Raja had to be in control. He had to win.

Finally Raven thought her prayers were answered when Raja announced that they were moving into the next section, but Raja wasn’t quite done playing with her just yet.

“So this is gonna be more of a tight shot, just the shoulders up, so we won’t see anything below that” Raja explained while he checked to make sure her makeup was still intact. Raven sent a silent thank you to the lord above that she would finally be able to move and touch him, or so she thought. “I still want you mostly still though. I’m going to be behind you in your ear so you won’t really see me” Raja noticed the faint disappointment in Raven’s eyes even as she nodded. He smiled as his hand left her face and skated softly down her body, pausing to run his fingers over her hip and slowly moving across the waistband of the front of her jeans. “but you’ll feel me, and you can move a little more. You don’t have to be so stiff this time.”

Raven inhaled sharply at the feeling of Raja’s fingers so low on her stomach. His gentle touch coupled with his deep voice had her entranced, and she internally willed his hands to travel just a few inches lower as she nodded again to show she understood. Raja didn’t hear her silent plea and instead ran over to check-in with the sound guy that everything was set at the correct time. Raven let out her breath, suddenly remembering that there were other people on set, and mentally ran through Raja’s directions again. They were starting the breakdown section. Raven vividly remembered listening to the song alone in her bathroom, and realized the “breakdown” was likely that section in the middle with all the moaning and whispering. Raja was going to do all that behind her? And she wouldn’t even be able to see? Raven would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little disappointed.

The heat of Raja’s body coming up behind her interrupted her thoughts, and she instantly felt his hand begin to caress her back. Ever since his little ‘threat’ earlier, Raja’s hands were like a magnet to Raven’s skin, constantly touching as soon as they were within a certain distance. Each small touch felt like an electric current running through them both, and it evoked a heady sense of desire in the pit of Raven’s stomach. Raja leaned her chin on Raven’s shoulder, the air between them was think with anticipation for what was coming next.

“Are you okay?” Raja asked, still rubbing Raven’s back. Raven nodded her head again, distracted.

“You can talk y’know, when I said I wanted you quiet I just meant I didn’t want you being sassy and talking back to me.”

Raven smiled meekly “I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Raja’s hand moved all the way up the base of Raven’s neck as he leaned his head on hers. All he wanted in that moment was to kiss her, but he had to restrain himself to avoid making a mess of their makeup. Instead he continued to tease her, dragging the fingertips of his right hand across her shoulder blades and his left hand coming to trace over her lower back, the sensation making Raven’s eyes fall heavy. Raja leaned in and murmured softly “Remember, the focus is just on our faces here, so make sure you look at the camera okay?”

Raven was so distracted by Raja’s hands on her that she barely registered what he was saying, but still she managed to follow his instructions and open her eyes. When she felt Raja’s right hand brush over a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her neck, Raven couldn’t help but lean against Raja and reach behind her to tentatively caress his thigh. Raja hissed at her touch. The dominant side of him was screaming at him to make her stop, that she wasn’t allowed to touch yet, but he closed his eyes and allowed himself to indulge for just a moment. He had been denied physical affection since they began, but he couldn’t believe that such a small, intimate touch was causing the blood to rush below his belt. Finally his dominance took over and he pushed Raven’s hand away. “Not yet.”

Raja’s hands went away too as he signaled to start the music. A little bit of the last verse was played as a lead in to the breakdown and Raja mouthed the words directly beside Raven’s ear. At this close proximity she noticed that Raja had a tendency to actually say the words under his breath when he lip synced rather than just mouthing it. She stood a little in front of him and stared at the camera with her lips parted slightly, still a bit affected by Raja’s gentle petting moments before. Raja draped his arm over Raven’s left shoulder and let his hand drag up her chest, over her shoulder and down her back as he sang “I’m gonna give you all of my love”, then he shifted his body forward, snaking his hand around to her front and pressing himself into her back as he breathed in her ear “much much more than kisses and hugs”. Raven gasped as she felt Raja press into her from behind, not expecting to feel him half-hard against her back. She tried her best to keep her composure but Raven was sure that the camera caught the sudden moment of surprise in her eyes. Raja didn’t stop though, as the music slowed and sounds of him moaning surrounded them, Raven felt the hand splayed across her stomach begin to drift downward to the inside of her thigh. Both sets of eyes never strayed from the camera while Raja touched her and let out a breathy groan in her ear. Raven tried her best to stay still and collected but as his hand slowly inched higher up her leg Raven couldn’t control her instinctive response. The combination of Raja’s hand brushing excessively close to her and the feeling of him still pressing into her backside made Raven’s eyes fall closed and her head roll back. Raja didn’t stop the shoot to correct her, instead he pressed himself into her further, teasing her and letting her fully enjoy the sensation. His eyes stayed fixed on the camera and his hand just barely brushed against the front of Raven’s jeans as he whispered “Gimmie your cock” into her ear. Raven couldn’t help the way she pressed herself back against Raja, desperately seeking friction. And although he couldn’t deny how good Raven’s ass felt pressing into him, Raja needed to keep some element of control in this situation so his hands came up to wordlessly still her hips.

“Trust me.”

Raja reveled in the fact that he had complete control over Raven, the sense of authority and seeing her so affected by his touch gave him a high stronger than any drug could. There was nothing in this world Raja enjoyed more than dominating someone with a strong personality. That initial battle of wills leading to their eventual submission provided him with a challenge and sense of accomplishment. And anyone that knew Raven could tell you she was not a passive type, she was strong-willed and sassy and shady and beautiful, but as Raja came to know her better he saw through the front she put on and uncovered her softer, more insecure side. These conflicting aspects of Raven’s personality always intrigued him, also reminding him a bit of himself. He loved to toy with her emotions in an attempt to bring that pliable side of her out, but still enjoyed her strong-willed nature and occasional moments of insolence.

They continued like this for a little while longer, Raja occasionally running his hands down Raven’s back or across her stomach, breathing and moaning in her ear. He could see Raven becoming overwhelmed by the constant stimulation of his hands and he didn’t want things to get out of hand yet, so he murmured a low warning that he was going to let go of her. The absence of Raja’s touch made Raven whine and stumble a little without his body there to support her, but she slowly collected herself. She was already so worked up from Raja’s touching and teasing, and she felt both frustration and arousal from the fact that he was treating her like a toy doll, forcing her to stay still while he played with her however he wanted. She was happy when Raja decided it was time to switch positions again.

They switched back to a wide shot, as far away as possible without exposing the bottom half of their bodies but still wanting to capture as much of their interactions as they could. Raja turned Raven to face him, holding onto both of her hands with their bodies mere inches apart like he was holding her captive. After the heaviness of their previous interactions, both queens were restless and eager to have their hands on each other. Raven especially had spent the entire shoot so far suppressing her desire to touch Raja’s bare skin, even just the feeling of his palms against hers was enough to drive her crazy. She waited for Raja’s next direction, internally begging him to give her more autonomy.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, his eyes subconsciously flickering down to her lips.

“Good”

“Just good?”

Raven smiled faintly at Raja’s flirty tone. “Really good.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Raven felt his thumb brush against hers. “But we’re not quite done yet. And for this last part I want us close.”

“Okay.”

“Really close. As close as possible” Raja brought their hands to either side as he took a small step towards Raven, practically standing on top of her. “I want our bodies completely pressed together. I want to be able to feel every inch of your skin against mine.” Raven felt her breath catch from Raja’s words in her ear. “I need to be able to touch you anywhere I want, and I want you to touch me back.”

Raven exhaled a small sigh of relief at the last part “I’m allowed to move?”

“Yes, but only a little. I’m still the one in control, I’m gonna hold you and I’m gonna touch you. I just need you to follow me.”

“Follow you where?”

“Follow my touch” he whispered in her ear. The smile in Raja’s voice was hypnotic, “React however feels natural for you, but I’ll give you little directions while we film.”

Raven absentmindedly nodded “Okay.”

Raja’s hands left hers to signal the music and cameraman to start, but immediately they returned to stroke either side of her face. Their gazes locked as Raja’s hands continued down her face and neck. At this point neither one of them were mouthing the words, but she heard Raja’s muted instructions, “Look at the camera.” Raven did as she was told and Raja continued to move his left hand down her body. He watched intently as his hand drifted over the muscles in her chest, feeling each one flex under his touch. His right hand held onto her shoulder to steady her as his fingertips continued grazing down Raven’s stomach. Raja watched her face attentively while his fingers continued to explore, her eyes staying locked on the camera as per his instructions. His right hand came up to caress the side of her face again, and when she didn’t waver under his touch, he let his left hand drift down further to brush against the front of her leg, his right hand falling down the side of her neck. Raja closed his eyes and envisioned them in a much more private, intimate setting.

Raven felt herself shiver at his touch, but her eyes never left the camera. Although she had permission to move and reciprocate, she felt frozen in place. She was so used to being touched and manipulated like a prop, it was almost natural for her to just stand and enjoy the feeling of Raja’s hands on her. Suddenly Raja stood tall again, bringing his left hand back up to meet his right. He turned her face back towards his, close enough that their eyes fell closed. Raven instinctively leaned into him as she heard him whisper again.

“Touch me.”

She felt Raja lean away slightly as his hands wrapped around her, one on her lower back and one around the back of her head, and he continued to mouth the lyrics when the song picked back up. Raven also turned her eyes to the camera and let her arms wrap around Raja’s small frame. The feeling of his skin was like a smooth silk under her hands, so satisfying after such a long deprivation. They both posed and mugged to the camera for a moment before Raja brought her in closer, holding her in a tight embrace with one hand roughly gripping the back of her neck. Up until this point they had managed to keep at least a little bit of distance between them, but now Raja held Raven’s body flush against his own, feeling every inch of each other’s bare skin just as he promised. His left hand suddenly skated down Raven’s back and over her jeans, gently pressing their lower bodies into each other. Raven gasped as she felt her cock press against his, and she noticed Raja falter a little when his eyes fluttered in the middle of singing along. The sensation was overpowering for Raja, and his need for more took over as he leaned even further into Raven. His hands were everywhere as he held her desperately, one splayed across her back and the other caressing her face, holding her head steady as he breathed the words right next to her mouth. He heard a small sound escape from Raven’s lips as he subconsciously pressed himself into her again. Both of them were completely overwhelmed by the feeling of them rubbing together through the front of their jeans, but finally Raja forced himself to pull away before things went too far.

Raven slowly opened her eyes when she realized Raja had stepped away from her. She was met by Raja’s intense stare, a stare Raven knew from previous experience meant he was both hungry and insatiable. They paused filming and gave each other a moment to take a breath and compose themselves, but even through his own lust Raja still wanted to check on Raven before coming together again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah” Raven breathed and nodded.

This time when they came together their interactions were a little softer and more hesitant. Their bodies were still pressed together, unable to part for more than a minute, but Raven only allowed herself to touch Raja’s back with just her fingertips. Raja delicately reached his hand up to Raven’s neck, eventually wrapping around the back and gripping tightly to anchor her in place. Raja’s soft then suddenly strong grip on her neck made Raven inhale sharply and close her eyes, enjoying the feeling of him taking complete control, her whole body tingling with anticipation. He held her close as his left hand continued to gently caress her, drifting over her collarbone and tracing patterns down her chest. Raja savoured every reaction he saw across Raven’s face, trying to burn the image into his memory. The contrast between the rough grip on her neck and the feather-light touches against her skin held Raven in a trance, and when Raja’s hand moved down to stroke her leg again, this time much closer to where she really wanted him to touch, she couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped her parted lips. Raja smiled at the sound, amused by Raven’s slowly waning self-control. He knew exactly what she wanted, what she craved, and Raja wanted it too. But he was the one in control, he held the power, and only he was the one who decided exactly when Raven would get what her body was begging for. Raja was feeling particularly power-hungry today, and he wanted to tease her just a little longer.

Raja continued to play with her, his hand wrapping around to the back of her thigh and gently scratching his nails up and down. He observed each small reaction on Raven’s face, and also felt the reactions to his teasing in her pants, every so often feeling her cock twitch against his. The soft gasps and lolling of her head gave him a sense of satisfaction. Raja knew he had complete control over her now. She had reached the state of submission Raja yearned for when he initially thought to cast Raven in this role, and the way she subconsciously followed the sound of his voice, silently begging him to close the slight distance between them, told Raja he could do anything in that moment. His hand left the back of Raven’s leg and came up to spread across her cheek, the other still gripping the back of her neck. He watched as Raven slowly opened her eyes and they both paused for a moment, gazes locked. Raven’s icy stare was piercing but held a noticeable sense of desperation, her eyes pleading with Raja to give her what she needed. Raja held her gaze for a moment longer, wordlessly reminding her that he was the one in control, but still his left hand was gentle as he moved to caress the side of her face. Finally he let himself lean into her, extremely slow and restrained as both of their eyes fell closed in anticipation. Raven barely moved, allowing Raja complete control as their parted lips brushed lightly against each other. He was so slow and tentative, breathing into her open mouth. The teasing was pushing Raven to the edge. She instinctively tried to lean in closer, desperate to close the distance completely, but Raja would not allow her any power. He held her firmly in his hands as he gently pressed his mouth to hers. All the tension that had been building throughout the day, the touching and grinding and soft whispers in Raven’s ear, ignited and exploded like fireworks at the first bit of contact. Within seconds Raven felt Raja’s tongue slip into her mouth, leisurely exploring the new territory, and she immediately flashed back to their first kiss outside the bar. She remembered the way he held her against the wall while their tongues roamed freely. This kiss felt much more controlled but still a bit experimental, and this time Raven gave into Raja completely, letting him take the lead with her hesitantly following.

Raja’s grip on her face was somehow both firm and gentle, holding Raven in place as he kissed every inch of her mouth that he could reach. Raven stood mostly still, eyes closed and arms languidly wrapped around Raja’s lower back while he spread his dark lipstick all over her skin. Raja’s hands finally released their iron-like hold on the back of her neck, instead coming up to frame either side of her face. Raven felt his lips and tongue trail across her chin, leaving messy, dark brown streaks in their path. She was caught by surprise when she felt a soft bite on the left side of her bottom lip, letting out a soft whine at Raja’s sucking and nibbling, but he didn’t let up. Raja had waited far too long for this; imagining all the things he’d do to her mouth, thinking about how her swollen lips felt against his tongue, and how she’d look with his lipstick smeared across her face. He subconsciously rocked his hips into Raven’s before roughly pressing his lips to hers again. The slight pressure sparked something inside her, and this time she fully reciprocated Raja’s kiss. Their kiss was still slow, but this time more urgent and desperate as their fingertips dug into each other’s skin.

They continued their dance for another minute, both of Raja’s hands coming down to circle around Raven’s neck as his tongue licked against hers. He heard the cameraman say something which finally caused Raja to pull away, suddenly remembering that there were 2 other people present. He looked over to see the camera still filming so Raja continued his performance while Raven recovered from his attack on her mouth. Raja could feel her body almost limp against his own, her chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. She was completely exhausted and he wanted to take advantage of her satiated state, so he continued to tease her just a little more. Raja brought his hand across Raven’s shoulders and back, feeling her exhale heavily and lean into him. His hand continued on a path down the front of her chest and stomach, his fingers just barely ghosting over the noticeable bulge in the front of her jeans before continuing down her legs. Raven was overtaken by the amount of stimulation, leaning into Raja’s touch and letting her head fall back with a breathy moan.

For a moment Raja’s eyes left the camera to glance at the small monitor to his left, appreciating the look of pleasure on Raven’s face. As usual Raja’s attention was fixated on her mouth and the sight of her lipstick smudged across her face, exactly as he pictured it in his mind. Raja had one last idea that he wanted to film before they wrapped and he released Raven from his teasing and torture.

“Rave” he whispered to see if she was still coherent enough to follow his directions. It took Raven a second to register her name though her haziness but eventually she opened her eyes, instantly searching for Raja’s warm gaze, but his eyes were focused on her mouth. Raja’s hand lifted to the side of her face, his thumb grazing over her smudged makeup, and Raven thought for a moment that he was going to lean in and kiss her again. Instead she felt his hand glide down to lift her chin slightly. His fingers lingered just below her bottom lip, still seemingly entranced by her full, messy pout. His next instruction took Raven by surprise.

“Open your mouth.” Raven’s response was automatic, still hazy from their very long and intense makeout session. Raja smiled at her easy compliance “Good girl, now lick me.”

Raven looked at him with a dazed confusion, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

“Lick my fingers” Raja instructed as he traced them along her bottom lip. Raven hesitantly stuck out her tongue and licked the pads of Raja’s fingers. Both of them shivered at the intimate contact and she heard Raja curse under his breath. “Turn towards the camera and do it again.”

Raven followed his directions and turned herself slightly so her eyes were on the camera. She let her tongue run over Raja’s fingertips again while he smudged his own lipstick even further with the back of his hand. This time however, Raven didn’t just stop at a simple lick. Once her tongue reached the very tips of his fingers, she put 2 of his digits completely in her mouth, sucking on them gently. Raja hissed with a perfect mix of surprise, arousal and frustration at Raven for not following his instructions directly. He pulled his fingers out of her mouth and stroked the side of her face. “So eager” he shook his head, but all Raja could think of now was Raven’s lips around him. He hadn’t even noticed that the song had ended and they were standing in complete silence. Raja broke their stare to look up at the crew, easily shifting from intense to casual.

“Did we get all the footage we needed?” Raja asked the guys behind the camera.

“Yup, I think that’s a wrap!”

#rpdr fanfiction #raja gemini #raven #raja x raven #light smut #chardonnay #mdcq #canon compliant

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 2 Part 8

This is the last part !

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Thursday January 10 – Friday January 11

It was his last exam. The Dean's grandson finished it easily. He was sure to pass anyway. When he went out, he glimpsed Theo. The bastard was waiting for him. What the hell does he want ?

"Hey buddy." he said with a grin. "You have a minute ?"

"Make it thirty seconds, I don't have the fuckin' time to talk with you."

"Okay. I'll chase Liam after all. I want him."

"You want him."

You greedy pig. Fuckin' asshole. Dickhead. I don't know enough curses to qualify you. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey just smiled dangerously. This bally fucker.

"And why are you suddenly interested ? You failed month ago to get him."

"That's right, but I think I can be in luck now. I have some... advantage. And damn, he became so hot during christmas. Hunky but chunky. I love it. Sorry, you were too slow. He's mine now."

The blond lad just laughed. He laughed so loud that all the students around heard him.

"You're a little swaggerer Theophile. Are you seriously defying me ?"

"Hell yes."

Not that far ago, you were begging me just to have the right to suck my cock. You'll regret this overconfidence. Liam had faced a hunter way more dangerous than Theo. He survived to this Raphaël dude, he can beat a fucking swimteam captain like you too.

"You don't ask what's my plan ?" wondered the law student.

"Sorry but... since you're not a real opponent, I don't care." replied the Dean's grandson.

"Really ? Well, considering you're hunting him for more than one month now, I can only suppose you are rusty. Maybe the best hunter just failed. Maybe he isn't the best anymore."

"And maybe you are missing my dick so much you want it again ? Who knows ? I'm done with your bullshit for today. Bye."

The next morning came quickly. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey didn't sleep well, because he and his spy Nancy made some research about Theo. And they discovered something really interesting and important. Maybe he have a fucking advantage after all. After that, Nancy and him had had sex, and so he had slept only four or five hours. Anyway, he got some business to make. The faster, the better. The Dean's grandson met Steve Callagan, the head of the music club, in his room. He had just finished a breakfast apparently. There were one thing or two to know about the guy. He was a watcher hunter. He loved to see two chicks or one guy one girl have sex. No gay tho. Never understood why. Two guys, two dicks, it can be funny. And Steve had, like Theo, an official girlfriend, the lovely Bettany. Her name is a porn in itself. Anyway, they were cute together, except Bettany was a chubby chaser and fattened the musician quite a bit. There're more people liking meaty partner than you would say at the first sigh. Myself included some time.

"You want something Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey ?" asked Steve when they were alone.

"I heard you had two tickets for this famous movie saturday. I want them." he commanded. "A porn tape in exchange ? I have recorded a lot of stuff during the holidays, including a sexy delivery girl. Exactly your taste."

"I'm sorry dude but... Matthew Davos from the swimteam already gave me a video of himself and this black runner chick. I took it against a concert ticket. And now Betty really wants to see the movie."

For god sake. Who care about a stupid black girl who looks like an elephant and a little thief ?

"Give me those ticket or I swear to god I'm going to find Bettany straight away and I'll fuck her so hard that she'll be unable to walk for a week. Then I'll be back there and you'll suck my fuckin' dick until you couldn't blow in this stupid tuba of yours. Okay ?"

And Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey got the tickets.

Liam Saturday Januray 12

When he finished his lenghts at the pool, the chestnut lad took a deep breath and went to see Colton. Exams were over and this afternoon, Dami invited him to see a movie. He hadn't much time to discuss with his friend, but he intented to help him as much as possible. But I hope he'll not talk about my past... Colton was currently stretching. Normally, Christmas was the perfect time to be slacking a bit. (Liam did. He had lost a bit of definition but he was working out again now). (It might be the reason why all those girls were accosting him at the gym or the pool). (But he always tried to avoid them, because he suspected the witch to be among the crowd). Anyway, Colton as for him was as handsome as ever. Well-built, not too strong, not too thin. He hadn't the single bit of fat on him. (To Liam, it was a lost, but whatever).

"Hey buddy." started the chestnut lad. "How went your exams ?"

"Good I think." replied his friend. "But I wasn't as focused as I wanted to."

"Why that ?"

Liam decided to play it dumb. It was better than talking about Leila who had threatened him. (She was the evil twin, obviously).

"Barbara cheated on me, and then she left me." Colton confessed with sadness. "She said it was better this way."

Of course, the dark-haired lad was too diplomat to say something mean. He had a sweet tone, even when he announced bad news. Liam suspected him to be half teddy bear. (Teddies Bears were alive, yes, and sometimes they sent a child in the human's world). Anyway, the lad was disgressing. He was here to help his friend.

"Maybe I can do something about it ?" he asked. "Wait, did you said she cheated on you ?"

(Yeah, it took a long time before Liam realised what it meant).

"She didn't say with who, but I'm guessing someone important at the university, cuz right after, she became the future head of the student union. When this girl, Summer, will finish her mandate, they will present Barbara as their favourite candidate. Anyway, I think we can't do much about this. I'm going to swim now, see you later."

Well, she liked to be the class delegate in highschool after all... Liam had suddenly an idea. He could probably know who was the guy in question. He just had to ask Dami. (He was pretty sure this one was important for the university). (He once had said something about the Dean, but Liam didn't remenber well). And then, maybe he could work on something.

Speaking of the devil, he met Dami on the early afternoon for a movie. His blond friend carried with him a bag filled with something, but he didn't say what. They entered in the theater and took their sit.

"You'll see, it's a good movie." assured Dami. "And there, I cooked this. Tell me if you like it."

He offered a cake. Two month ago, Liam would have declined. (At least try, because his friend had some authority). But now, he glady ate it. The film went like this. It really was good. And the chestnut lad consumed everything Dami gave him. He just didn't realised how much it was. There were all kind of pastries, crusty and spongy, with cream, jam or chocolate. In Liam mind, they were both eating peacefully. Yet, at some point he discreetly slipped a hand beneath his shirt and rubbed his belly. He was rather bloated. (It didn't stop him to eat whatever Dami offered tho). Eventually, he realised his tum was very swollen. Looks like I'm stuffed. I ate more than I thought. For a moment, Dami stopped. The movie was almost over when something happen. But Liam didn't realised it happen until the end. When he was about to stand up, he noticed his friend was holding his free hand. Oh.

"I asked you if it was fine." whispered the blond lad. "And you said nothing."

His eyes were showing a mix of excitment and cautiousness. Liam hesitated a second. What does this mean exactly ? Maybe Nate is right. Maybe Dami saw this as a date. But was it a problem ? Liam didn't know the answer at this question. He soflty took his hand off.

"Don't worry, I'm okay with it." he said. "Can you tell me something ?"

His friend frowned, but nodded.

"You probably know Barbara Henrion ? Is there a chance you know who slept with her and offered her a favor afterwards ?"

"She had sex with Javier Esposito, the vice-president of the student union." answered quickly Dami. "This one told me about this. But you know, they're all sleeping with each other in this union."

"Well thank you. And thank you for the movie and the snacks. You really are an awesome chef dude. I have to go to work now so... see you soon."

Liam then joined the night shift of Pasta's Place, as usual. The work happened to be a bit difficult with a full belly, but he managed to do well. Judy checked on him at least ten times. She said he must be careful at everytime of the night and the day. According to her, there was some guy who might corrupt him. (Liam supposed she was referring to some minions sent by the forces of chaos). Anyway, before going to bed, the lad called Nate. Luckily, this one wasn't partying this time, just chillin' at his place. They rapidly talked about Dami, obviously.

"To my opinion, you should give it a try." suggested his bestfriend. "I mean, you deserve a bit of happiness after all what happened. And I think you're ready now, you got enough time since your ex. Plus Damian sounds cool."

"I don't know man. Maybe I'll ruin everything like last time. I don't feel confident yet..."

"Dude, you were in highschool, it was your very first relationship with another boy and he had a lot of issue on his own." reminded Nate. "Damian is two years older than you. He's certainly more mature. It'll be different. It has to be."

Liam nodded slowly. As always, his soulmate was right. But he needed to go slowly. I mean, I don't know Dami that much after all... I must take my time.

"I bet you nodded." whispered Nate. "You know I can't see you through the phone right ?"

Rebecca Monday January 14 LAST PART

She never thought things would change like this, in such a short amount of time. Emilio didn't show up ever again. Of course, she still met him during the University's training. But he avoided her. Bob noticed, but said nothing. In fact, there was one thing her coach didn't know. Rebecca was now dating Matthew. Like Chelsea. They were both with him. It's a nonsense but I don't know. I feel good with him. He was kind, way more than she thought. He also was protective. She felt at ease with him. And god know how supportive he was. When she had been dating Emilio, they were used to talk about running. But he had never encouraged her like Matt did. Chelsea and her were the best among the team, and he was proud of it. He didn't hide his love for both of them. And the weirdest thing ? Sex with the blond lad and Chelsea was awesome. Way different than everything she had try before. The man led the ride, and she was glad with it. I know it only has been six days since we started but... I wonder why I hated him in the first place. He had admitted he was jealous of her at first but it had evolved in feelings for her. So basically, Matthew had a crush and regretted what he had done so he decided to help her. And now they were dating, the three of them together. It was weird, but Rebecca wasn't disliking it.

This evening, during the swim training, she couldn't stop herself staring at her new boyfriend. His tight swimsuit highlighted his handsome body. She had learnt he was 182 cm (6'0") for quite a chunky 77 kg (170 lbs). He was muscular but thick, and she loved it. Liam and Theo might be the only in the pool who could rivalise, despite being both thinner.

"You're looking at Matt with a lot of admiration." pointed out Laura. "Maybe you wanna told me somethin' ?"

"Not really. I was just watching."

"Yeah, watching eh." laughed the petite blonde. "You know, since you broke up with Emilio, you can find another man but... Matthew is with Chelsea. And not your type to be honest. A bit too cocky I think."

"You must be right."

It was what she had thought at the beginning of the year. But he saved her from Emilio. And she liked his confidence eventually. He wasn't a bad guy. Laura continued :

"Anyway, I have another topic to talk about... Promise me you won't be mad."

"Who can against you ? You're so lovely."

"Thanks for that. So... I know things aren't fine between Nick and you. And at first, I thought it was none of my business but... I can stand it anymore. I think you're wrong, since the very outset. I mean, he helped you on several occasion, and yeah, he's a smart aleck, but he was always there for you. And you, what did you do exactly ?"

Rebecca opened her mouth but... nothing came out. She had no good excuse. I was just too proud to admit I was wrong. Their argument started when she had tried to change him. I did that in order to make him conform to my standards. It's not fair.

"You're right." she admitted. "The blame is on me. But what should I do now ? Our friendship is completely over. And you know what ?"

"Hum ?"

"I don't care anymore. Before, when I dated Emilio, I felt guilty but not anymore. I think I understood how works the college society."

"Really ?"

"Hunt, or be hunted, as simple as that." Rebecca affirmed. "I found a pack, and now, I'm ready to be on the hunter side. Nick isn't my concern anymore."

To be continued

And so here we are...

Congratulations Rebecca, you’re now a hunter ! She’s free from Emilio and she found something meaningful for her. Let’s say she’s perfectly fitting in the College Society now ;)

As for Liam well, seems like feeding him was the good choice ! What can make him happier than a full tummy I wonder ? But Damian can still screw this up for sure... And the war with Theo only begins !

Like last time, The College Society will be on hiatus for two or three weeks. Chapter 3 will be longer, and we’ll have a new character POV !

In the meantime, you can read To the Perfection, my other weight gain story !

#the college society #cs #Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey #Liam #Rebecca #stuffing #Liam's heart IS his stomach #Last chapter of Rebecca #Goodbye girl #chapter 2 #part 8

[hxseok-honee]

star-crossed haters drabble | daily life for jk x y/n

masterlist

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September 17th, 2016.

8:53 am- it was 8:53 am. Why the hell was she already in class? Normally she would have used those extra seven minutes to take a nap or something, so why was she seven minutes early? Did it have something to do with the fact that she kept checking her phone, waiting for a text, a snap, a tweet- anything? Or the fact that she kept glancing at the empty seat next to her and turning back to check the door? Maybe… probably. But she wasn’t about to admit that.

She heard him before he even made it through the door. She could hear Taehyung telling a story that she didn’t catch- she was too focused on the laughter that was echoing through the hall and through the open door. It was filled with joy but it was softer than usual, almost distant or distracted. It was followed by footsteps, two pairs of feet making their way noisily into the room.

“Yo, Kook- will you give me the answers to the Defense packet after class? I forgot to do the second half…” She refused to turn around, too focused on leveling her breathing as she listened to Tae’s last words to his friend. Would things be really different now? Was last night just some sort of fluke? Was she supposed to act first, or would he?

Her mind was still racing when she heard the seat beside her get pulled back, scraping against the floor noisily and ringing in her ears. She didn’t look up fully, choosing instead to glance quickly in his direction so he would at least know she was acknowledging him. He settled into his seat silently, pulling out his textbook and setting it next to his cauldron before clearing his throat softly.

“Did you do the reading?” She couldn’t help the way her head shot up quickly to meet his gaze, totally unprepared to actually hold a normal conversation with him. Were they just not going to talk about it?

“Uh- yeah. It wasn’t too bad, just some notes on the roots we’re using today…” She could feel a pair of eyes on her back, and when she turned she found Taehyung giving her an encouraging smile. Looking back at the boy next to her, she realized he had said something and was now examining her as he waited for an answer. “S-sorry, what?”

“I said, uh- you look nice today.” Her mouth almost hit the floor as she tried to process what was happening. He laughed under his breath at her reaction.

“Nevermind, you just got kinda ugly.” Grimacing, she resisted the urge to hit him and turned back to her textbook, flipping the pages aggressively as she prepared for class to start. 2 more minutes. “Hey, y/n?” She hummed softly, slightly distracted as she tried to find the right page. “Are we good?”

“Huh?” She looked into his eyes properly for the first time, catching the uncertainty in his voice as he watched her for a reaction. She couldn’t do much more than offer him a very slight smile.

“Yeah, Jeon. We’re good.”

October 28th, 2016.

Throwing her phone into her bag in a desperate attempt to force herself to focus on her studies, she was able to concentrate for maybe six minutes total before she was searching for it again and checking her notifications. Six minutes and she had ten messages and a snapchat from Jungkook. He could be so annoying.

And yet she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her features.

‘You actually went to the library?? This day should go down in history.’

‘How mad would you be if I showed up r i g h t now’

‘Ooh you’re not in one of these front tables, this study time must be serious’

‘Jk i found your goofass’

‘Ew why do you look like that’

‘Stop tapping your foot youre making me anxious’

‘And stop biting your lip it’s distracting’

Rolling her eyes more and more with every message, she looked at the shelves surrounding her, trying to find him through the gaps in the books. She finally caught sight of his abnormally large head and, not even fighting the smile on her face anymore, packed up her things and went to talk to him.

Peeking around the corner of the bookshelf, she found him already smiling over at her, presumably having seen her get up from her spot to come find him. His infectious smile only serving to brighten her own features even more, she practically bounced over to him and pinched his cheek when she got close enough, trying to muffle her laughter when he made a face and let out a squeak. She could see a hufflepuff student glaring over at them, and she smiled apologetically at the girl before grabbing Jungkook’s arm and pulling him to a different aisle at the back of the library.

“What’re you doing here, asshole? I told you I had to study!” She kept her voice low so as not to get attacked by anyone who happened to be in these far aisles.

“Fuck you mean? I have to study too, dumbass. That’s what a library’s for, isn’t it?” She moved to pinch him again, unprepared for the way he caught her wrist and pulled her in, trapping her in his arms. Leaning down to press his mouth against the shell of her ear, he whispered softly to her.

“You’re going to get us in trouble, you know.” She hid the shiver that passed through her as his breath hit her skin, pretending that he wasn’t affecting her in favor of shifting her body so she wasn’t so close to him anymore. Taking the hint, he let her go with a laugh. “Is someone afraid of a little physical contact?” Reaching behind him and grabbing the biggest book she could find, she yanked it from the shelf and immediately started whacking him with it, unintentionally causing him to start laughing hysterically as he ran away from her. She could hear the students in the library becoming disgruntled at the interruptions, and the telltale click of Madam Pince’s heels prompted her to drop the book on a desk and grab Jungkook’s hand.

“We gotta go-” Pulling him behind her, they ran down the aisle noisily, unable to muffle the giggles that were rising as it became a game of cat and mouse with the school librarian. Finally managing to reach the front of the room, the students in the space were shocked into silence as they all watched Jeon Jungkook and Y/n Y/l/n race across the floor together toward the exit, their shoes sliding against the hardwood as they both slammed into the double doors and scrambled out of the room. That was the first time the students of Hogwarts realized just how close the two sworn enemies were really becoming now that they’d made amends.

January 3rd, 2017.

“Can you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Stop staring at me.”

“You’re kinda full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Are you paying any attention to the lecture? Like at all?”

“Honestly I forgot we were in class.”

“Jungkook-”

“Miss Y/l/n! Mister Jeon! Is there anything on this planet that is so important that you are disrupting my class right now?” For the first time since the class had started, Jungkook tore his eyes away from his girlfriend to meet the professor’s gaze with a cool evenness that impressed everyone.

“It’s Taco Tuesday?” The whole class broke out into laughter, Y/n shaking her head and hiding her smile behind her hand and she nudged his shoulder. Jungkook rolled his eyes when the professor gave him detention for the rest of the week and went back to staring at Y/n. There were only five minutes left of class, and it was their only class together, so he was going to take full advantage while he still could. Smiling softly as he watched her take notes diligently, biting her lip as she so often did, he almost missed the small sigh that escaped her.

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” His smile grew until he himself had to hide it from the rest of the world, looking down at his lap before glancing back up at her through his lashes.

“You’re so pretty-”

“-you better stop-”

“-I just wanna pinch your little face-”

“-I swear to god I’ll knock your ass out right this instant-”

“-do you want to eat lunch at my table today?” She glanced over at him just as the professor dismissed them for the day, packing her things as she spoke.

“Jungkook, the entire student body is still pointing and whispering when we walk down the hall together, I think someone might have a stroke if we eat lunch together.” At his pout, she revised her statement. “Will you give it a few days? Just until we can exist in the same space without some first year kid taking a picture of us?” To make her point, she motioned to the room around her, the students lingering in small groups and blatantly staring as they interacted. Taehyung was the only one who wasn’t staring, playing on his phone as he waited for his friends to finishing packing up.

Jungkook still had a small frown on his face so instead of pulling him out of the room right away, she gave in to him, pushing down her embarrassment and ignoring her burning face to lean over and press a firm kiss to his lips, waiting until she could literally feel him smile against her mouth to pull away. By that point Tae was making his way around the room, telling everyone, including the professor, to stop taking pictures like a bunch of creeps and go about their day. When they looked over at him, he was rolling his eyes and motioning dramatically toward the door.

“Can we fuckin go please? I got homework answers to copy before my next class starts.”

#bts texts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook texts #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #bts drabble