#love this newfound love that she’s getting

[megalony]

Poorly Baby

This is a Evan x reader x Eddie holiday imagine, based on a lovely anon request. I hope you all like it, please let me know what you think and keep sending in the holiday ideas.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17 @zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: It's the couple's first holiday with their toddler, but things don't exactly go to plan when their daughter becomes ill. And they run into a few rude people at the airport.

Enjoy.

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A sigh burned past (Y/n)'s lips and she closed her eyes, tilting her head back as if looking towards the sky to give her strength.

Her right hand moved to cradle the back of Evie's head while she tilted her chest back so the toddler was leaning into her. She bent her knees and started swaying her little girl from left to right, moving her up and down to calm her down and try to cease her cries.

It didn't work.

The toddler sniffed before she let out another wail into (Y/n)'s neck. Her hands batted up and down against (Y/n)'s chest and shoulder and she started swaying her legs as she howled. Bubbling, sniffling cries wailed past Evie's lips as tears drenched her face and her skin started to burn from how overworked she was making herself.

"Baby, shh come on it's okay-"

"I want daddy!" Her little voice turned into a screech and she sniffed at least five times to draw in a deep enough breath so that she could let out another cry.

"I know, I know baby and he won't be long, the boys are coming." (Y/n) leaned her cheek on top of Evie's head and continued to sway, trying to shush her.

She had moved to stand near the drinks bar to be hidden in the shade and be out the way of the other people. The last thing everyone nearby needed was to listen to Evie screaming her little head off.

The two year old wasn't feeling well today.

This was her first time abroad. They were used to taking Chris away on holiday at least once a year but the last two years hadn't gone to plan. (Y/n) had been pregnant on their last holiday and she hadn't felt very well. And they skipped going abroad last year because Evie was only a baby and it would have been too much for them all.

Now she was two, they thought she would enjoy going abroad. She hadn't liked the airport, at all. And the plane ride had been long and tiring for her, but she had done well. But their two week holiday had been a right mixture since Evie had gotten sick.

The temperature change didn't sit well with her, the newfound heat had made her sick for the first few days. Then when they thought she was getting better, they went out for a walk round and the heat made her pass out. To top it off, for the last two days Evie had been sick and when she was sick, she wanted to be held, cuddled and carried by either one of her dads.

It was their last day today because tomorrow dinnertime they would be heading back to the airport to head home. But their holiday had been fun and exciting despite Evie not feeling her best, and it had been great for them to spend two full weeks together as a family.

"Shh, baby, okay." (Y/n) murmured into the top of her head as she continued to sway from side to side.

With it being their last day and a small amusement park being over the road, Eddie and Evan had taken Chris to go on the rides. It wasn't (Y/n)'s sort of thing and Evie wasn't well enough to go on the baby rides or to watch the boys like she normally would. She would of been fine wandering round with some sweets and a drink, but not today when she was feeling unwell.

So they decided the boys would go on the amusements and (Y/n) had taken Evie in the soft play area in their hotel and then to the toy shop.

"Here they are, look. Who's that?"

Evie lifted her head from (Y/n)'s shoulder, still sniffing and whimpering while she looked around for her dads and her brother.

The boys had got back from the amusements twenty minutes ago and they had gone to get changed into their swim gear since they all wanted one more dip in the hotel pool. The pool was massive. And the cold water would do Evie the world of good, it had made her feel better every other day they spent in here.

"Found them!" Chris pulled on Evan's hand and pointed ahead to where (Y/n) was stood cradling Evie, leaning back against the bar.

Chris was wearing his aqua blue swim trunks with sharks dotted all over them and he had already taken his glasses off and put them in the bag Eddie was carrying, full of their change of clothes and towels. He practically dragged Evan over until they got towards (Y/n).

A tender smile flooded (Y/n)'s face as she looked over her boys. Chris was jumping up and down, desperate to get in the pool already. It had been hard to get the kids out the pool these past two weeks whenever they came down here.

The outdoor pool was spaceous. There was a shallow end with fountains and a little lookout tower for little kids. There was a deeper end for adults, at the far back there were a few slides. Two hot tubs were at the back and all around the pool was a rapid river with currents for people to cruise along in with floats and rubber rings.

(Y/n) dragged her eyes across Evan and Eddie who looked like the sun and the moon. Evan was wearing white and blue striped swim trunks, showing off all the tattoos glittered around his arms and his torso. Including (Y/n)'s favourite which was Evangeline in large italics beneath his collar bone with Evie's footprints stamped beneath her name in purple ink from when she was born.

And she noticed Evan was wearing his knee brace. The amount of walking, swimming and running they had done on this holiday was enough to aggravate his scarred leg so he had brought his brace along. It was waterproof and the tight tension stopped him from limping.

Then there was Eddie. Grey cargo-like trunks with large baggy pockets and blinding white draw strings through the middle. His hair was spiked up, his black sunglasses were perched on his nose and (Y/n)'s eyes found her favourite tattoo on Eddie's skin.

He had Chris and Evie's date of births in a scroll on the lower left side of his abs.

"Looking good," Evan murmured while he let his eyes wander all over (Y/n)'s frame.

It didn't matter how many times he and Eddie had seen her in her swimsuit this week. It was their new favourite. A low cut, strapless strawberry red suit with little white hearts dotted all over.

(Y/n) tilted her head back so she could peck Evan's lips before she took a step closer to Eddie with her arms outstretched. "Thank God. She won't settle for me, she's been screaming for you."

"For me? Aw, baby girl."

They reached out and did a swap. (Y/n) took the bag from Eddie's shoulder while he carefully scooped Evie up from her and turned her around so she was facing him. He saw the light sparkle in her little eyes when she realised who it was that now had hold of her. He was a little surprised she was crying out for him when Evan had been the one who had slept with her on his chest last night instead of leaving her coughing and sulking in the crib.

As soon as she was bundled up against his bare chest, Evie stopped crying. She turned to little gasps and sniffs and deadlocked her arms around Eddie's neck. Her nose brushed up against his neck and made him shiver while she curled up against him.

She looked a little cutie, despite the snot and tears drenching her face and the heat radiating off of her. Evie's hair was gathered up in a scrunchie and she was wearing her navy blue Fireman Sam swim costume because she thought it was both her dad's in cartoon form.

"How's she been?" Evan curved his free arm around (Y/n)'s waist and let Chris lead them towards the pool.

"Well, she's not been sick and she found a new firetruck in the toy shop which will be in the cot with her tonight, I'll bet."

It had been no secret at the station that Evan held it over Eddie's head that Evie preferred the fire truck to the ambulance. They got her a few toys of each because she was always at the station to see the team and her family. But she loved the fire truck. It didn't matter when Eddie told her about the ambulance or that he drove the ambulance whereas Evan rarely drove the truck.

And when they went to the toy store and she saw a fire truck that was just the right size for Evie to hold and cuddle like it was a teddy, the toddler wouldn't let it go.

(Y/n) had a gut feeling that when they got back to the room, Evie wouldn't let the truck out of her sight. She would fall asleep with it.

"That's our girl."

"You're burning, baby girl." Eddie spoke quietly against the top of her head while he smoothed his hand up and down her back. "Let's get you in that pool, hm?"

"Hot," Evie murmured while she drooled on Eddie's chest. She was a lot calmer now she was in his arms and she was panting from how badly she had been crying.

"I know, poorly baby." Eddie cooed with his lips against her temple and he shivered when he stepped into the pool. The contrast of freezing cold water lapping at his heels and the burning hot toddler on his chest sent his heart into a frenzy and made him shiver.

He followed after his partners, grinning when Chris flopped down onto his stomach and started crawling and shimmying further into the water.

When the water rose to his knees, Eddie slowly lowered himself down until he was sat down in the shallow end. He stretched his legs out into the water and gently lowered Evie down until she was sat on his lap with the water up to her tummy. A smile pulled at Eddie's lips when Evie shivered and gasped but the cold water seemed to make her feel better instantly.

She splashed her hands out at her sides and hit the water around Eddie's knees.

"Happy now, baby?" He whispered softly when Evie slouched down against him so her chest was submerged in the water. Her head pressed back into his abdomen and she grinned a toothy smile up at him as she began to kick her legs out and swatted him in the thighs.

After a few minutes, Eddie gently moved his hands beneath Evie's back and her head so she was laid floating up in the water. He weaved her through the water as she squealed, kicking her legs and flapping her arms while Eddie started to move more towards the middle of the pool towards his partners.

"Hey, pretty baby." Evan kissed the top of Evie's head before he leaned over to steal a kiss from Eddie.

He had his arms wrapped around (Y/n) and moved his chin back to perch on (Y/n)'s shoulder while Chris began swimming at their side. He swayed them from side to side before he leaned back in the water and pulled (Y/n) so she was laid between his thighs in the water.

(Y/n) let her head flop back onto Evan's shoulder and she attached her lips to the side of his neck, feeling his chest vibrate with a growl. Both their heads turned to the right when they heard Chris.

"Pops! Pops, floats." He was already swimming off to the side, trying to point and swim at the same time towards the large donut ring floats he could see that no one had grabbed yet. There weren't many of them around and they usually had to wait a while to find one around the pool.

"She stays with you two if we get those." (Y/n) gave a warning look between the boys and shook her head when she saw them grin.

When they came in the pool the other day and finally got four floats for them all, (Y/n) had sat Evie on her lap in one. It had been a mistake when Evie thought she was about to fall off and scrambled to hold onto (Y/n), whose swimsuit was strapless. She almost dragged (Y/n)'s suit down her chest if Evan hadn't reached out in time to swoop Evie up.

"Yeah, no flashing." Evan murmured in her ear and tightened his arms around (Y/n)'s waist while his hands travelled up to her chest. He gave her a squeeze and pressed a kiss to the side of her head before he detangled himself from her and swam over to Chris to help him.

"Are we gonna go on the rapids, baby?"

Eddie gently lifted Evie up from the water and settled her down on his chest. He felt her hands splash down on his shoulders and she nuzzled her face into his chest. He was relieved to see she was starting to cool down but he didn't want to think of the tantrum she was going to have when they eventually had to get out the pool.

"There's only three, who's bunking up?" Evan had one float hooked over each shoulder while Chris was slumped over the third one. Kicking his legs out at Evan to get towards the sectioned off water where there were currents and buckets that tipped water across them.

"Me and mum." Chris answered before any of them had the chance to say anything.

He grinned when (Y/n) ruffled his damp curls and kissed his temple before she held onto the float and steered it in the right direction so Chris didn't have to.

"Alright, in you go."

Evan held the float steady while (Y/n) dipped under the water and climbed up into the float. She secured her legs over either side and smiled brightly when Chris scrambled up too. He sat on the opposite end with his legs strewn over (Y/n)'s lap and his hands reached out to hold hers while Evan gave them a nudge into the water.

(Y/n) slouched down a little move and splashed her feet in the water over the side of the float while Chris used the wall to push them further ahead into the current. She could see Eddie following just behind them, sat like a royal with Evie curled up on his chest. She had her head tucked just beneath his chin, her hands patting his chest and her legs coiled up on his stomach.

He leaned his head back, soaking up the sun while his hand smoothed up and down Evie's back.

"Alright back there, loner?" Eddie tilted his head a bit further back, making sure he didn't tip the float over, so he could look behind him at Evan. He saw the way Evan pretended to laugh and stuck a middle finger up at him.

Eddie used his foot to kick the wall on the right and it spun the float round so he and Evie were facing backwards. Not that Evie cared right now, she was so settled he wondered if she was going to go to sleep.

"Oh no," He muttered and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the top of Evie's head as his arms curved around her tighter when he noticed the water buckets up ahead. (Y/n) and Chris sailed through them, but Eddie could see they were about to tip and pour water onto him. If Evie got splashed in the face she would scream. The chlorine stung her eyes and she couldn't handle water in her ears.

A groan spluttered past his lips when the water crashed down on the back of his neck and soaked through his hair and all across his shoulders.

"Daddy!" Evie wriggled against him, managing a little smile when she realised Eddie was soaked but she had remained mostly dry, at least her head did. He smiled down at her and shook his head whilst trying to keep his glasses perched on his nose.

When he heard the others laughing, Eddie took a calculated look around to see who was closest to them. It happened to be Evan who was only a foot away.

With a little strain, Eddie stretched his leg out towards Evan's float and gave it a swift kick. But his jaw dropped and a quiet 'ooh shit' passed Eddie's lips when he kicked the float a little too harshly.

Evan toppled out.

"Eddie!" (Y/n) pressed a hand to her mouth and tried not to laugh, but she could already see Chris tossing his head back with a cackle. Poor Evan flipped backwards and dunked under the water. "Go, go." She whispered to Chris, helping him reach for the wall and propell their float further down the river stream towards the people ahead of them. They needed to get away before Evan tried to retaliate and get his own back.

Eddie had to admit Evan looked rather fetching when he broke through the water. His curls stuck to his forehead, water cascaded off the end of his nose and dripped down his lips that were a very dark shade of red. He was panting for breath and his shoulders were hunched up, tensing and morphing the tattoos across his body.

"You little-"

"No, no! Hey, I've got the baby- I've got the baby don't you dare!" He curled his hands around Evie and shuffled her a little higher up his chest so her chin was perched on his shoulder. Although his lips morphed into an open-mouthed grin as he tried to move their float to get away.

Evan couldn't tip him over or splash him or pull him from the float because he had Evie in his arms. If she went under the water she would scream and flap about and cause a scene. He would have to wait until Eddie didn't have Evie in his arms if he wanted payback.

"I'm sorry babe."

***

Leaning forward, (Y/n) pressed her temple into Evan's back and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She could feel herself smiling when he reached behind to hold her hip and give her a gentle squeeze.

She reached her right hand out and smoothed her hand up and down Evan's waist while her left hand juggled Evie and moved the toddler a bit higher up onto her chest. She could feel Evie drooling into her shoulder and the little pants she let out told (Y/n) she was barely awake. That's what they wanted. They wanted Evie tired and subdued so they could get through customs and get on the plane without a fuss.

The temperature change from the boiling heat outside to the chilled aircon in the airport had made Evie cry and feel ill. And it wasn't doing (Y/n) any favours either.

"Are we nearly there?" (Y/n) didn't bother lifting her head from Evan's back. It was a comfort to feel his tense back in front of her and to breathe into his shirt and inhale his scent.

It felt like they had been queuing in this line for hours. They were going to miss their flight if they waited much longer. All it was was a bag check and a scanner to make sure they weren't bringing anything back or taking a bomb onto the plane. They hardly had to queue back home when they were at the start of their holiday. Now it was the end, things were dragging out.

"Yep, just about."

Evan gave her hip another squeeze while he leaned forward and perched his chin on Eddie's shoulder to look at the queue. They were just about at the scanner. Finally.

When Eddie started to get plastic tubs for him and Chris to put their things into, Evan leaned forward and grabbed one for himself and one for (Y/n). He dumped his bag into the box and took out the electronics, smiling to himself that (Y/n) was still cosied up against his back. And he could feel Evie snuggled between them too.

He felt (Y/n) press a kiss between his shoulder blades before she reluctantly pulled away, but she still stood close to him.

She struggled to keep Evie in one arm and take off her bag and sling it into the tray Evan had placed down for her. They had another few feet to go before they would be in the scanner, so (Y/n) wasn't in a hurry to take off her shoes or unpack the electronics from her bag.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she tensed up when she felt a shoulder nudge into her back.

Great. She had a pushy couple behind her.

Moving her hand to cradle the back of Evie's head, (Y/n) cuddled her daughter closer and took a step closer to Evan until she was practically meshed up against his back. She didn't want to be stood close to strangers, it was why they had walked around the airport with (Y/n) in between the boys while she carried Evie. So no one else would get close.

A gasp tumbled from her lips and she pushed up against Evan when the man behind her leaned over her.

She could feel his chest press into her back when he roughly leaned over her shoulder to grab a tray for his own items. He wasn't even next to the bag scanner yet and he was trying to get ready. It wouldn't make the queue speed up or make (Y/n) move any faster, she could only go as fast as everyone else.

She shivered and tilted her head up when Evan turned. He glanced over his shoulder and looked down at (Y/n) first, but she saw something burn in his eyes when he realised why she had stumbled into him.

"It's okay." (Y/n) muttered quietly and reached out to give Evan's bicep a light squeeze.

The man behind her had grabbed a tray but he was back to waiting in line behind them now. (Y/n) didn't want Evan to start a fight, not so close to the security guards in case they caused a scene or got delayed. They couldn't miss this flight when their luggage was already boarding the plane and they all wanted to get home.

She watched Evan huff and lock his jaw tight and his gaze burned into the couple behind them before he turned back round. He busied himself snapping his belt from his trousers and dumping it in the tray along with his shoes.

And he stayed tense and straight while (Y/n) held his arm and leaned into his back so she could slip off her shoes and put them in the tray.

(Y/n) took to humming while she rested her lips against Evie's temple and gently rocked her from side to side. She stayed close to Evan and shuffled forward with him while he took her tray and placed it on the conveyer belt on their right.

"Oh!"

(Y/n)'s arms tightened around Evie and she snapped her eyes closed when the man behind her pushed her once again. Only this time, with a little more force and (Y/n) was sure he'd done that on purpose to make her move.

Her elbow clattered against the conveyer belt and her head bashed into the back of Evan's arm. But it was Evie's cry that made her wince. Poor Evie slammed into Evan's back too and got squished between both parents. The abrupt motion woke her up immediately and she began to whimper, wondering what was going on.

"Do you mind?" Evan's voice snapped through the air like the jaws of a crocodile.

His hands were desperate to curl into fists but he refrained and moved both hands to hold (Y/n)'s arms when he turned round. He kept her and Evie tucked into his chest while his eyes bore down into the short but stocky man stood behind his girls.

He didn't react when he felt Eddie's hand on his waist, trying to see around him to find out what was wrong.

"What?"

"You've just pushed my partner and she's clearly got a child in her arms. Why don't you try being careful?" He looked down and moved his hand to indicate to Evie who was whimpering in (Y/n)'s arms.

When he didn't get an answer or even an apologetic look, Evan sighed. He moved his hands down from (Y/n)'s arms to hold her hips and turned them round so she was in front of him. Keeping both his girls wedged between him and Eddie so they were safe from another stumble.

He could see Eddie giving him a certain look, telling him to leave it at that, but Evan couldn't help himself. He turned to look over his shoulder and stared down at the stranger who was glaring daggers through him.

"Push me, pal. See what happens."

It was a dare more than a threat, but it did the trick because when Evan turned around, he could feel two feet of space between him and the stranger. He didn't want to take the risk and find out.

***

"Shh, good girl, there we go." Eddie pressed his lips to the top of Evie's head and rubbed his hand slowly up and down her back.

He could feel her snotting and whimpering into his neck while her hands fisted in his shirt and pulled it to her chest. She hadn't been best pleased when Eddie told her he couldn't take it off on the plane. Throughout their holiday she had been used to cuddling up to Eddie and Evan without their shirts on. She liked the skin contact.

If he could of snuggled Evie under his shirt, he would have.

He sat up straighter in his chair and gently swayed Evie up and down on his chest as she continued to whimper quietly. She didn't feel well, and the turbulence frightened her. Eddie was surprised she hadn't been sick yet, but then again, she threw up just before they got on the plane.

"Wanna go sit with mum and papa for a while?" He spoke against her temple before he glanced over at Chris who was sat on his right and was finally happy playing a game.

Chris hadn't been happy that they weren't all sitting together. On their first flight at the start of the holiday, the four of them all had seats together at the very back of the plane. Chris had sat next to Evan and only a small aisle separated them from (Y/n) and Eddie while they passed Evie between them throughout the flight.

This time, Chris and Eddie were in the middle row while Evan and (Y/n) were a row in front on the left row. So Chris couldn't lean over and see them properly whereas Eddie had to lean over the aisle and strain his neck to get Evan's attention.

It wasn't ideal, but at least they were paired up.

When Evie murmured into his neck, Eddie slowly stood up in the cramped space and shifted onto the aisle on his left. He took three steps forward and leaned his hips against Evan's seat.

He could see (Y/n) was half awake with her head slumped on Evan's shoulder and an arm bound around her waist. She didn't feel well. Whereas Evan was slouched down with his legs stretched out in the aisle. He and Eddie didn't exactly fit in the seats properly which was why they both sat on the aisle seats so they could stretch out.

"You sitting with us, baby?" Evan reached his arms up and eased Evie down onto his lap. He smiled when Eddie gave his shoulder a squeeze and pecked his temple, whispering a quiet 'thank you' before he headed back over to Chris.

(Y/n) smiled tiredly, keeping her right hand curled around Evan's bicep while she moved her left hand to rub up and down Evie's back.

She closed her eyes and shuffled down in her seat, curling more into Evan until she was almost sitting on his lap along with Evie. (Y/n) didn't like sitting next to strangers. It was a Godsend that the arm rests folded up so (Y/n) could shuffle closer to Evan. She had nothing against the elder man sat next to her, but (Y/n) would rather cuddle up into one of her partners than be close to a stranger.

And it wasn't as if Evan could comfortably sit- or even fit- in the middle seat which was why he and Eddie were on the end seats.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Evan looked down at Evie with a smile, but she shook her head and whimpered. She didn't have the attention span for a movie, she didn't feel well and she didn't know what to do with herself.

She stayed perched on his lap with her eyes fixated on Evan's arm. He had his right arm around her waist to keep her settled on his lap while his left arm stayed between him and (Y/n). Right where Evie could see and start to glide her fingertips across his tattoos to keep herself occupied.

Evan started to jitter his leg up and down which made Evie smile, if only for a few seconds. Her chin tilted down into her chest and she messed around with his arm which made Evan grin, he loved the sensation when either Chris or Evie started to draw patterns on his skin or trace his tattoos. He watched her contently for a few minutes while (Y/n) closed her eyes and tried to ward off the sickness she felt.

But (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open and Evan's smile faded when the seat in front of him moved.

Whoever was sitting in front tried twice to recline his chair, but it wouldn't go back any further. The way he bashed his frame into the chair caused it to jolt into Evie's back. It wasn't enough to hurt her, but it was enough to scare her into crying out and her big doe eyes looked up at Evan in fright.

"Papa…"

"S'alright, come here, look."

Evan moved his hands to Evie's sides and gently lifted her up from his lap so he could lean her on his chest instead. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and looped her arms around his neck, bending her knees into his stomach. He looped one arm around the back of her legs and ran his other hand up and down her back in slow circles.

They could just have a cuddle for a while until Evie fell asleep or settled enough to watch a movie or listen to some music.

(Y/n) dug both hands into Evan's bicep and meshed her face into his shoulder, holding her breath when the plane shuddered. She could feel the turbulence rocketing through to her heart and her throat tightened when it felt like the plane was going to drop down out of the sky.

A shudder ran through Evan's neck and he winced when Evie screamed. She wasn't as frightened as Evan thought she would be since this was their first time taking her on holiday and on a plane. But they all knew any turbulence was going to frighten her. She didn't understand what was happening.

Her nails scratched Evan's neck and she scrambled to press further into him as if she thought she could mesh herself into his chest, somehow.

A loud wail left her lips and she began to cry, breaking off every few seconds to scream when the plane gave another jolt to the left or rickoted up and down.

"Shh, baby shh it's okay, you're okay." Evan smothered his lips against Evie's cheek and moved his hand up and down her back while he rocked her back and forth. He could feel her little body trembling against him and it made him want to cry. But he was glad she was sat with him. Eddie was a good flyer, but he didn't like turbulence either. Eddie would be sat stiff in his seat right now, praying for a smooth flight.

When the plane finally levelled out, Evan glanced down at (Y/n). She had stopped shaking too but she didn't lift her head from his shoulder. He didn't mind.

His lips stayed meshed with Evie's cheek and he continued to hum and shush her while leaning from left to right to see if it would help. But his eyes locked with the man sitting in the window seat beside (Y/n). He thought for a moment that the man was going to tut or roll his eyes, but instead, he just smiled.

"You good?" Evan looked down at (Y/n) when she lifted her face from his shoulder so she could rest her cheek on his arm instead. She nodded, but he could see she was uneasy and she still looked sick.

The plane shook again, but it was only a little tremor this time.

"Alright, you're okay baby." He murmured again into Evie's cheek as she continued to whimper into his neck.

But Evan's attention diverted to the chair in front when the man slammed back in his seat again. It was as if he thought bashing around in his chair would somehow make it recline further but if that happened he would be laying on Evan's lap. He gave it another shove with a loud grumble that made (Y/n) open her eyes to see what was going on.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

The stranger's loud remark made (Y/n)'s stomach churn and she darted her eyes up to look at Evan.

Another round of expletives left his lips in a mixture of 'fucking plane' and 'bloody stupid' amongst other things. When he either hit his chair or slammed his elbow back into it, both (Y/n) and Evie quivered.

What was he doing? Was he desperate for a power nap so early into the evening like this?

When he swore again, Evie lifted her head from Evan's neck and looked up at him. She knew those were bad words but she didn't know who was saying them or who was getting angry. The panic was written across her face as her eyes creased and a cry tumbled past her lips as she looked at Evan in fear.

Evan coiled his left arm around Evie to keep her stood up on his thighs with her body slumped against his chest. He smoothed his hand up and down her hip as she wrapped her arms back around his neck and began crying into his shoulder. Even with (Y/n) leaning into her and cuddling her, Evie continued to shake.

"Stop." Reaching forward, Evan planted his right palm flat against the chair in front and gave it enough of a shove that the man jolted forward.

"What are you doing?"

The man leaned around the side of his chair so he could look behind him at Evan. The disgusted look on his face made Evan arch a brow and curl his lips in anger. He didn't look much older than Evan, late thirties, early forties at a push. But the anger and frown lines on his face could have aged him ten years.

"Your swearing and mouthing off is upsetting my daughter. Give it a rest please." Evan sighed through his words while he leaned his chin on his right hand and stared blankly at the man in front of him.

He wouldn't sit here and continue to let this stranger mouth off and frighten Evie when she wasn't well and she was already petrified of being on a plane.

And surely this man's disruptive behaviour was irritating or upsetting a few other people on the plane, not just them.

Eddie leaned to the left with his elbow on the arm rest and his head tilted up so he could look down the aisle. He knew Evan's voice, he could recognise his boyfriend's voice a mile away and he knew that tone. Evan was both losing his patience and getting worried at the same time and that was never good. Eddie could feel his stomach flooding with adrenaline as he watched the man in front of Evan leer at him and look him up and down with scrutinising eyes.

"I thought that was his kid?" The moment those words passed through the stranger's lips and he pointed towards the back of the plane in Eddie's direction, that was it.

"Stay here." Eddie whispered firmly to Chris as he got up and thundered down the aisle. He barely stood beside Evan before the stranger started again.

"And she's not exactly quiet, is she? Screaming her fucking head off since we took off."

(Y/n) took a deep breath and kept both arms coiled tightly around Evan's arm when he looked like he was about to get up. He couldn't retaliate when Evie was whimpering in his arms. The toddler could sense an argument was about to break out and it was frightening her.

But when (Y/n) looked up and realised Eddie was already hovering beside them like a dark omen, she bit her lip.

Her heart thundered in her chest when Eddie roughly grabbed the back of the man's seat and gave it a harsh shove to get his attention. His fingers were almost ripping through the material as Eddie leaned on the chair and leaned down until he was level with the man in front of him.

"I don't know who you think you are, but if you talk about our daughter like that again, you'll be flying home with the air rescue."

Eddie didn't care one bit who this man was or who he thought he was. He had no right to talk to any of them like that or speak about Evie as if she was some silly teenager playing up on purpose. She was a toddler, she was only two years old. How could this man sit there and honestly expect her to be quiet or calm or happy when she was petrified?

"Listen mate, I-"

"No, you're gonna listen to me now. She's a sick little child who's frightened, you're just a prick with an attitude. Show some respect or prepare to be taught a lesson."

Eddie's callous voice and his intensifying gaze had the man stunned to silence. It was very clear what Eddie was saying. If he didn't stop being so disrespectful, Eddie would punch him. He would start and end a fight right here on this plane and he didn't care if they had to make an emergency landing in order to do that.

He wouldn't have someone talking to his family like that and upsetting his daughter.

Eddie took such a deep breath he felt like he was going to pass out. He straightened up until his head was almost touching the roof and he watched as the stranger sank down in his chair and turned to look at the screen in front of him. He wasn't giving Eddie the satisfaction of seeing his embarrassed, frightened expression.

A tender smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips as she looked between her boys. "Maybe you two should switch seats… keep the kids out the way?"

It seemed a safer option for Evie to be back with Chris two rows behind so she wasn't near that man. She was now petrified. The toddler was trembling against Evan and whimpering quietly into his neck. Sitting here so close to the man that shouted at them was only going to frighten her even more. And she was still attached to Evan at the moment.

It would be better if Evan sat with Chris and made sure the kids were okay. And that meant Eddie could sit directly behind the person he had just threatened and keep an eye on him.

"Come on baby girl," Evan kept Evie close to his chest and pecked (Y/n)'s temple before he got up.

He smiled when he felt Eddie's hand on his lower back and a soft kiss against the side of his neck while they weaved around each other to switch places. Evan made a slow walk over to Eddie's seat where Chris was leaning to get a look at the action, grinning around his thumb that he was biting down on.

And Eddie swung round and flopped into Evan's vacant seat, slouching down so his knees pressed into the chair in front. His left hand instinctively curled around (Y/n)'s upper thigh while he scrunched his right hand into a fist and rested his chin on his hand.

He turned his head to the left and looked at (Y/n) with an arched brow and quirked lips. He watched her lean over until her chest was pressed up against his bicep and her hand fell on his chest that was rising and falling rapidly like he had just run a marathon.

Her lips pressed a kiss to the soft spot behind his ear that had him shivering and gripping her thigh harder.

"Well done, babe."

#911 imagine #imagine #eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #eddie x reader

[sonic-fankid-showdown]

Poll 12, Round 1.

About Stellar: (by @emthimofnight) The product of Project Stellar—a secret government operation aiming to perfect Project Shadow—Stellar is a genetic experiment combining the DNA of the Ultimate Life Form and the fastest thing alive. Designed to be a living weapon, Stellar was born in a hidden facility where she would have been raised to be an unstoppable weapon for the military. Thankfully, Shadow the Hedgehog (with help from Rouge the Bat) discovered her existence, destroyed the lab, and rescued her as an infant. Shadow then went on to begrudgingly inform his long-time rival, Sonic the Hedgehog, of their newfound child, seeing as she was technically just as much Sonic's problem as she was Shadow's. From there, the duo (along with help from their friends) raised Stellar as their daughter, sheltering her from the knowledge she was created to be a force of destruction for her masters. Along the way, Sonic and Shadow found themselves truly falling for one another, dissolving the barriers they had placed between one another as rivals, finding new appreciation for each other in their new parental roles. Stellar herself is a bright, warm-hearted person. She has a strong sense of justice and never shies away from standing up for what is right. She takes after Sonic in personality, always cracking jokes and finding it hard to sit still. Despite this, she inherited Shadow's finesse and ability to plan out her choices, not to mention his abilities to utilize chaos energy. She has a love for figure skating, ballet, and make up (thanks to Auntie Rouge!), but don't let her feminine side fool you, she is not afraid to get her hands dirty! She would love nothing more than to spend her day smashing badniks into the ground with her skates if her dads would let her! Stellar loves both of her parents dearly, but sometimes wishes that they wouldn't be so protective of her. After all, what could they possibly have to be worried about?

About Rapidfire-Harley Davidson: (by @confused-bagel) Just a regular hedgehog that was found as a hoglet in the woods by Sonic and Shadow. They took him in after being reminded of their own pasts of being lost and forgotten. They went back and forth on names for hours until they agreed that Rapidfire-Harley Davidson was the coolest name. He doesn’t have any special powers but he can still melt your heart!

#Stellar the Hedgehog #Rapidfire-Harley Davidson #sonic fanchild #sonic fankid #sonic fankid showdown #sonic oc #sonic the hedgehog #sth #round 1

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

it’s a bad idea, right? - part 1: can’t two people reconnect

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader • inspired by sleeping with other people

Warnings: no use of y/n or physical description of reader except they have hair that can be tucked behind their ears, implied smut, this chapter is fine but future installments will be 18+

It’s finally here! Thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient about this fic; I was dealing with some rough personal stuff and lost all my inspiration but it’s back now and I’m happy to be writing about everyone’s favorite cocky flyboy.

There’s something about a sticky summer night when you’re 22 that makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been.

It’s the third bar that your new roommates have dragged you to tonight, there’s a cocktail sweating in your hand and the bass from the stereo thudding through your head. You’re not sure if the grin on your face is from the watching all of the wannabe cowboys go flying off the mechanical bull in mere milliseconds or from the possibilities of newfound adulthood laid out in front of you. In this moment, it’s hard to imagine that you were ever scared about moving halfway across the country — away from your family, your hometown and your high school sweetheart who always thought you’d move home after college — to Austin.

In this moment, you feel free. You feel invincible. You feel like this is a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

 

“Okay, the bar is a madhouse but I managed to get another round!” Anna shouts as she makes her way back to the table, tossing her long dark hair behind her before plopping the tray of shots down in front of you and your new friends. “And there’s a new rule!”

Everyone groans in unison; Anna loves to make up drinking games, handing out shots and beers with a new rule or bet that is guaranteed to leave someone embarrassed before the night’s over.

“Oh, stop. Shit like this is how we become lifelong best friends, trust me, I read about it online,” she fires back, rolling her eyes and handing shots to you and the three other girls at the table before taking one in hand. “It’s simple. Last one to finish their shot has to ride the mechanical bull.”

“Bitch, are you trying to kill us?” Erin asks, shooting a sideways glance at Katie, who’s eyeing up her shot glass like she’s trying to strategize the best way to drink it. The two of them are sisters — “Irish twins, it’s a whole thing,” Erin explained when you first moved in — are hyper-competitive and curse like sailors. You loved them instantly.

Your tiny hope of not being the one to end up on the bull dies when you look over at Taylor, who managed to throw back her tequila when nobody was watching. “What?!” she asks, curls bobbing in the bun on top of her head as she takes in everyone’s looks of confusion and frustration. “Anna never said we had to start at the same time.”

It’s like a starting pistol went off at the end of her sentence because before you know it, Erin and Katie are both biting into limes while Anna is swallowing down the liquor with a grimace. Shit.

You do your best to catch up but it’s too late. You, the girl who grew up nowhere near Texas and have never actually seen a bull in real life, are going to have to ride one in front of this entire bar.

Years later you won’t remember the details of the bet, how your friends whooped and hollered as you made your way over to the bull with shaky knees or how the operator took pity on you when you immediately slid off and offered you a second try. The song that was playing is lost to time, as is the actual feeling of riding the bull for a whole half second.

What you will remember, though, is sliding across the tarp to rest right by a group of athletic looking guys and the strong, tan hand that reached down to help you stand up.

You’ll remember the backwards Longhorns cap on his head, the way his green eyes flashed with amusement and the blinding white of his smile as he helped you to your feet, hand lingering just a moment too long in yours. You’ll remember the way it felt like someone had set off fireworks inside of you, fingers tingling where they touched his skin and your stomach swooping like you were on a roller coaster.

You’ll remember exactly what he said to you: “Well, that was definitely the most entertaining attempt of the night.”

You giggled, a little dazed by his chiseled features, by the way he seemed to only see you in that moment, by the force of his charisma.

 “I’m Jake. What’s your name, beautiful?”

 

For a Thursday night, the Hard Deck was surprisingly packed.

The Daggers had managed to claim their usual spot by the pool table, but despite their cramped quarters they practically had to shout over the sounds of drunken sailors and the oldies blasting out of the jukebox to be heard. The table next to Bob was crowded with beer bottles, the bespectacled WSO having waved off Penny when she stopped by to clear them, promising the group would clean up after themselves. Natasha and Bradley were in the middle of some kind of dumb darts competition, being heckled by Bob and a tipsy Rueben, who had his arm slung around the former’s shoulders for balance.

Jake took in the scenery, smug grin on his face, before sinking his final pool ball with a flourish.

“And that’s game, gentlemen,” he said, turning to Javy and Mickey, who were shaking their heads with frustration.

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into betting against him,” Mickey sighed, shuffling through his wallet for a $20 bill. Javy just shrugged and threw a playful punch against his friend’s shoulder, before asking for a rematch.

“Let that be a lesson, Fanboy,” Jake chuckled, making a big show of examining the bill before pocketing it. “Never bet against Jake Seresin. They call me a golden boy for a reason.”

“Who’s ‘they?’ Everyone we know just calls you a dick,” Nat called out, making her way back to the table for her drink. Taking a look at the chaos on the table, she rolled her eyes before starting to gather up a handful of empty bottles. “C’mon, Fanboy. Help me clear some of these and I’ll buy you a beer to drown your sorrows in.”

He ran over to help, allowing Javy to slide over to Jake and elbow his buddy in the side.

“10 o’clock, there’s a whole table of pretty ladies. The blonde’s had her eye on you all night and her friend with the locs is crazy hot,” he murmured, as Jake took a subtle look over at the table in question. 5 or 6 women were crammed into a booth, and judging by the tiara on one of their heads, they were out celebrating a birthday. “Wingman?” the younger aviator asked, holding out his fist for Jake to bump it.

For a half second, he contemplated turning his best friend down.

It wasn’t like Jake wasn’t attracted to the blonde, who was, indeed making eyes at him from across the room. She was exactly his type, all bright smiles and smokey bedroom eyes, her curves and long legs poured into tight jeans. She had an air of confidence that made it clear she knew just how hot she was.

He knew that if he strolled over and gave her his best All-American smile and some of that Southern charm, he could probably win her over. They’d flirt and dance a bit and then he’d drive them back to one of their places, have some decent-to-excellent sex and he’d be asleep shortly after midnight.

It seemed fun. It seemed obvious. It seemed, quite honestly, a little boring to him.

Maybe it was because he turned 35 a few months ago and the idea of going home to his own bed after a night out was starting to seem more and more appealing to him. Maybe it was because he spent so much time trying to convince his fellow Daggers that he wasn’t a complete asshole that he didn’t want to risk them changing their minds again.

Or maybe he was just a little jealous.

Jake would see the way Rueben’s face lit up when he talked about his wife, how he would brag about every milestone his 3-year-old daughter was reaching. He felt awkward about his lack of wedding knowledge when a pink-eared Bob would ask the squad for their opinion on something for his upcoming nuptials. He’d try to ignore the weird sinking feeling in his stomach when he’d overhead Nat and Mickey picking out a restaurant for their weekly brunch double date with their respective girlfriends.

And despite the fact that he had spent most of his adult life doing whatever he could to avoid those kinds of situations, now he was starting to wonder if maybe … maybe he’d be a little happier if he had been able to settle down with someone of his own.

Oof. That thought made Jake’s chest tighten uncomfortably. So he pushed it down, smiled as wide as he could and first bumped Javy. “Wingmen for life, Coyote. Lead the way.”

 

If you had to spend one more minute squeezed up against this bar, wedged between a couple aggressively making out and a trio of rowdy Navy men who were trying to sing along to Queen, you were going to scream.

“Just come for a drink or two. This place is super chill for a Navy bar, I promise,” you muttered darkly under your breath, repeating the words your friend and new coworker had used to convince you to come out tonight.

Between a frantic weekend spent unpacking all of your belongings into your new studio apartment and a very long first week at your new job, all you had wanted to do was bury yourself under a blanket and watch Real Housewives until your brain melted out of your ears.

But you were trying to be more social. You wanted to focus more on your friendships. Do things that were good for you. That was the whole point of this move.

So instead, you were leaning so far over the bar top that you could feel the edge digging into your ribs, shouting a drink order at the (admittedly, very sweet and slightly overwhelmed) bartender. She had just placed the two beers and margarita you had asked for down in front of you when another hand appeared and tried to snatch them up.

“Hey!” you yelled, tossing the bills in your hand onto the bar as you reached up to catch the offender by the wrist before they made off with your hard-won drinks. “Asshole! Drop them, those are my beers! What the fuck?”

You swiped up the cocktail with your free hand, lest it meet the same fate and turned around to see what kind of absolute monster thought they had the right to steal drinks.

Annoyingly, he was beautiful.

Tall and broad, with sun-kissed skin and a blindingly-white smile, which held a hint of sheepishness as he realized that he had been caught red handed. There was something familiar about the way he ducked his head a little, before peering at you from beneath his eyelashes.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. I thought those were mine. Didn’t mean to steal from you,” his low, twangy drawl went right through you, settling warm and comfortingly in your stomach. “I’d offer to buy you a drink to make it up to you, but, well …”

Texas. That’s where that accent is from, you thought, instantly being transported back to your nursing school program in Austin. How many wannabe cowboys had spoken with that same drawl, trying to charm you and your friends during a night out? Not too many of them had succeeded with you, especially not after —

“Jake? Jake Seresin!?”

It had to be him. You’d know that smile anywhere, had seen those green eyes in your dreams for far too long after you both had moved on. He was bigger now, muscles more pronounced and jaw more defined, more of those cheeky smile lines creasing around his eyes. His voice was deeper too, some of his accent smoothed out after years in the military, but it had to be.

He swore under his breath, eyes widening as he made the connection as well. He practically whispered your name, as if it felt a bit rusty on his tongue, but the second you nodded, he repeated it louder, warmer, like he was slipping back into his favorite jacket.

“Shit, how long’s it been?” Jake wondered aloud, looking you up and down as if to make a note of every infinitesimal change that had occurred since you last saw each other. “You look amazing, darling. Beautiful as ever.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heating up at his compliment. Jake always had a way of making you feel like the most special person in the room — but then again, he made everyone feel that way, as you later found out. “You look good too, Seresin. Like a proper, respectable Navy man,” you concede, though the words don’t sound nearly as begrudging as you hoped.

You’re rewarded with one of those thousand-watt grins and for a second, you’re back in a Texas dive bar, flirting with the most handsome man you’ve ever seen to the tune of some cheesy country-rap remix.

“I am good,” Jake promises, eyes locked on yours, and you think he might be back there with you, leaning up against the jukebox, the floors sticky under your feet. “I don’t know how respectable I am, but I am definitely good.”

His voice drags out that sentence, low and flirtatious, and butterflies fill your stomach the same way they did all those years ago. You can practically feel the ghost of his big hands on your hips, your lower back, caressing your cheek as the world disappeared around you that night, just the two of you creating your own little world in the corner of that dingy bar. Your lips part — to say what, exactly, you’re not sure — and you see his eyes drop to them for just a moment before —

The woman behind the bar calls out “Hangman!” with a tone of voice that makes it clear that it’s not the first time she’s said it and you both startle and turn to see her holding four bottles of beer out towards Jake, a look of exhaustion on her face. He jumps forward to take them, apologies pouring from his lips and he pointedly shoves several bills into the tip jar in order to earn an eye roll and a small smile from her. Two sweating bottles in each hand, he turns back to you and almost seems a bit relieved that you’re still standing there. (As if you’ve ever been able to walk away from him.)

“I have to drop these off with my friends,” Jake says, nodding to a table somewhere behind you, “And you should probably get those drinks to the people who sent you over here. But do — do you wanna catch up? There’s a deck out back with some tables, it’s usually pretty quiet this time of night.” He waits for you to nod, before pressing a quick kiss to your cheekbone. “I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

With one more charming smile, he’s off into the crowd and — not for the first time in your life — you’re left speechless and a little stunned, staring after Jake Seresin.

 

You’re not sure if the goosebumps on your arms are from the chill of the California evening or the way that Jake hasn’t stopped staring at you since he joined you outside on the deck. You shift slightly against the wooden bench of the picnic table, overwhelmed by the intensity of having all of the blonde’s attention on you again for the first time in a decade.

“So …” you begin, and your voice seems to startle Jake out of his thoughts slightly. “You’re a California boy now? I never thought you’d ever leave Texas.”

He grins and shakes his head slightly. “Well, when Top Gun calls and offers you a permanent station, you’d be a fool not to accept. And not to brag, but they do only offer that to the best of the best.”

“Please, Seresin. You love to brag,” you fire back, watching those green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Well, it’s not bragging if it’s the truth. And the truth is, darling, that I am one hell of a pilot.” Jake takes a swig from his beer, before leaning a bit closer into you, like he wants to study your reactions. “What about you? What brings you out to sunny San Diego?”

“New job,” you say shortly, shrugging your shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. “Moved from the ICU to the ED, so I figured a change of location would go well with a change of pace.”

Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes and you hope he can’t tell. There’s no reason to tell your ex — boyfriend? Fling? — whatever that you followed a guy out here, especially since that whole — relationship? Affair? Complete and utter heartbreaking disaster? — situation crashed and burned almost immediately.

“Mmhmm,” Jake says, as if he can tell that’s not the whole story, and he takes another sip before seemingly deciding to let you off the hook. “And what did you boyfriend have to say about moving halfway across the country? Or did someone manage to finally lock you down after all these years?”

There’s a small, sinking feeling in your stomach as you think about the real reason you moved here for a brief, heartbreaking second.

“No boyfriend. No husband, either,” you say, wiggling your left hand at him in order to illustrate your point, and clock the way his eyes almost look relieved by the sight of your empty finger. “What about you, Seresin? Where’s your sweet, Southern wife?”

He laughs, a little cocky but a little hollow at the same time. “You know I don’t really do commitment, darlin’,” he jokes and, boy, do you, nights of watching him flirt with other girls while you pouted in the corner of the bar flashing in your brain. You take a long swallow of your beer — just like you used to swallow down your pride back then — and roll your eyes at him.

“I swear, you look exactly the same when you roll your eyes like that,” Jake says, his smile softening around the edges. “Nobody ever managed to make it quite as cutting as you.”

“Nobody’s ever been quite as annoying as you,” you fire back, but there’s no real heat behind it. Jake’s eye light up like you just gave him a compliment rather than pointing out that he knew exactly how to press your buttons when you were younger.

“I seem to remember you used to like it when I was able to make your eyes roll. Or, at least, when I could make them roll back into your head …”

You sigh, doing your best not to let on how much that comment made your face heat with decade-old memories of you two tangled up in your sheets. “There it is …” you begin, but he just leans into you a little more, those green eyes traveling all over your face as he speaks.

“I’m just reminiscing, that’s all. Can ya blame me? You’re still so beautiful …” Jake responds, one hand reaching out to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek as he pulls away and you hope you can explain away the goosebumps that erupt on your skin as a product of the ocean breeze. “And I spent a lot of time trying to get you all worked up back then. Force of habit.”

You could give into it.

Allow the sheer force of Jake’s charisma and good looks to carry you away on a wave of old memories. The chemistry that always fizzled between you is clearly still there, the butterflies that have laid dormant in your stomach all this time just waiting for an excuse to be let free once again. It would be easy.

And it would be good — you two had always been good at the physical stuff. He was so gorgeous in so many ways and surprisingly generous when you were in bed. (Jake always took pride in being the best of the best, after all).

But once you woke up tomorrow morning, after all of the awkward goodbyes and the promises to call, then what? Jake Seresin doesn’t commit; he made that clear.

And you were still bruised from your last mess of a relationship, your heart feeling tender and aching in your chest most days. There’s no way that this doesn’t end the same way it did a decade ago, with you sobbing uncontrollably and Jake moving on to the next beautiful girl who manages to hold his attention.

So, with a self-control you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull yourself out of Jake’s undertow.

“Seresin, I … that’s probably a bad idea,” you say softly, eyes dropping down to the tabletop in between you. “I just got out of a relationship and I’m not in a place —”

He cuts you off by tilting your chin up to look at him and then making a point to pull his hands back and keep them to himself.

“Hey, hey, I get it. No worries. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, darlin’” Jake explains in a rush. “I’m sorry about that. Like I said, force of habit.”

You huff out a laugh and another eye roll and you can see him fight a grin at your reaction. “Only you would describe flirting with someone as a habit, Jake.”

“Well, I’m one of a kind.”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you giggle, glad to be back on solid, friendly ground with him.

 Two hours later, Jake sent you off with a hug and his phone number as you and your friend climbed into an Uber and set off for home. She had a few questions about the “dreamboat” of a Naval aviator that you had apparently dated back in school, but was a little too excited about recounting her own evening to push you for details. It wasn’t until you arrived back at your apartment and collapsed on your couch that you realized Jake had been texting you the whole time you were in the car.

Unknown: It’s Jake 🫡😜🤠⭐️🍻🏈😉

Unknown: Hope you get home safe, beautiful. It was great to catch up with you.

Unknown: And I would be an embarrassment to the U.S. Navy if I didn’t at least offer to be your tour guide around San Diego

Unknown: I know all the best spots after all

Unknown: So text me if you want to grab lunch or something

Unknown: Or if you finally want to learn how to surf

Unknown: But give me fair warning beforehand, I remember how bad your balance is lol

 

You: lol I forgot you text every single thought in your brain

You: but having a tour guide sounds nice

You: we could get brunch this weekend and you can give me the highlights?

 

You had only just begun to take your shoes off, resigned to finally get off the couch, when your phone pinged.

 

Jake 🤠 🧡: I know just the place

You gave his text a quick thumbs up and got ready for bed smiling the whole time.

-—-—-—-—-—

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! I don’t know if I’m going to have a regular schedule with this or anything, but I will do my best! Thank you for reading about the absolute menace that is Jake Seresin

Tagging some people who asked:

@tvshowgirl81 @redbarn1995 @stoneyggirl @keepingitlokiii @averyhotchner @dizzybee03 @olliepig @lynnevanss @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem @mamaskillerqueen @kmc1989 @hookslove1592

#top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman x reader #my fic #jake hangman x you

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind. 

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

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

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fandom #evan peters fluff #evan peters imagine #ahs murder house #evan peters smut #ahs fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters x female reader #tate langdon #ahs cult #kit walker imagine #kit walker #kai anderson imagine #kai anderson #kai anderson smut #fanfic #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #warren lipka #kit walker x y/n #peter maximoff #colin zabel #evan peters dahmer #smut #stan bowes

[dazai-ritualist]

I CANT HELP IT! IM SORRY but we know Al dies in his late 30s early 40s so we can assume he at least got to watch his kids grow up into young adults? What happens when Al dies and reader is “set free?” Only to figure out her children aren’t all who they seem to be? I can see reader’s son possibly becoming a corrupt detective/cop and perhaps her daughter gets into fashion or becoming a teacher? Im not sure what Emi’s future might be but im very curious on your thoughts!

UH OH, SHE’S LOSING HER CONTROL!

[hold up! read the rest of the story first!!]

— and when it seemed like there was no more hope, the monster of the house was slain.

and so, 12 years passed by like a breeze. despite being trapped in this hellhole called home, it was all worth it. for the children, all of it was worth it. noah, just 22 and he’s already a fine policeman, keeping the people in line. and the family treasure, emilia— aged 15, and yet a smart little girl. starting her own little farm outside, from cotton to potatoes, and keeping the family afloat. such wonderful kids, it’s a miracle alastor’s manipulations didn’t rub off on them.

1933, times were tough— the stock market crashed, the bank had failed, and everyone was living off of rations. thankfully, radios gained more popularity, and alastor had profited off of it, making sure his little family was fed with a roof over their heads— he seemed to not only enjoy the newfound wealth, but also the suffering in the streets... suitable for a monster such as himself. and while he worked, you and emilia had used the cotton from her farm to create and sell dresses, your own little effort to the community.

still, that didn’t change the hell that was outside your little safe haven. it wasn’t rare for young men to knock on your door, begging for work. and while your heart felt for them, it couldn’t change what alastor had in mind for them. he’d bring them in— down into the basement. and that very night, suddenly there was meat on the table.

you knew what he did, you weren’t an idiot. he gave you that man’s flesh. but, you did what you had to do. for the children, so that they’re well-nourished. and against your better judgement, you followed through, serving what seemed to be a steak. your husband seemed to love your ultimate submissiveness, one way or the other, you’d give into his ways. although it made your stomach churn, the very thought of eating the poor man, it was hard to live during these times, it was what had to be done.

and, it was why you let your children on a hunting trip with him. “little emi’s first trip! you excited, lil’ sis?” noah laughed, patting his sister on the head. “don’t do that, you’ll mess up my hair!” emilia frowned back. alastor laughed at the two as he held you by the waist, “oh, those two!” he mused, looking back to face you. “we’ll be home in time for dinner, my love. i love you so very much!” he smiled, kissing you all over. you hated whenever he did that— when he acted like he’d done nothing wrong, yet you didn’t fight back. what point was there to it? 15 years, and he’s managed to keep you in this house, there was no more use in fighting back.

“okay. just keep them safe, alastor.” you said as he pressed his nose against your’s. he smiled against your lips and laid onto you one final kiss. “don’t you worry your pretty little head, my dear. i’ll protect them with my life.”

and, that was the last time you saw him.

when your children came home, they looked frightened. “m..momma…” emilia whimpered. “oh, baby, what’s wrong? where’s dad?” you asked, running towards them to make sure they were safe. “…ma…” noah let out. “dad’s dead…” he said, ashamed to look you in the eye. “he’s… dead..?” you asked, dazed. “momma! i-i didn’t mean to!” your daughter cried, pulling you closer to hug. “you didn’t mean to..? emi, what happened?” you pulled your daughter far away enough to see her teary-eyed face.

“…i shot dad…” she said, hiccuping in-between words. your eyes widened at her words. “d-dad was on his knees in the dirt, so i thought he was a deer ‘n i shot him…” she explained, wiping her tears. “momma, i don’t wanna go to jail.” she cried out. “don’t worry, baby. you won’t go to jail. you didn’t mean to…” you kissed her on the forehead.

standing up properly, you looked your son in the eyes, wet as he tried to hold his tears back. “baby, i need you to show me where dad is, i’ll take care of it.” you said. “y-yeah, ok, momma… i’ll take you there…” he nodded his head. “emi, go prepare dinner while i’m gone. momma will take care of this mess.” you told her as she nodded her head.

when you arrived, alastor’s body was mangled beyond recognition, the only way you knew it was him was by the clothes he wore— it must have been someone’s hunting dogs, that means it’s possible somebody already discovered the body, and is headed to the police station. the only possible reason alastor could have been here and on his knees, as emilia said, must have been to dispose of a body. so, the ground beneath you must have a corpse. only the lord knows how many bodies alastor could’ve hidden here. but then, you had an idea.

but, first, you had to check. you dug the dirt below alastor’s body. and lo and behold, was the corpse of noah’s friend-turned-enemy, kenneth. “d…did dad kill ken..?” noah asked, afraid of the answer. “i suppose he did.” you said, frowning over your own answer. did the years truly turn you as heartless as him..? “now, noah… if you don’t want your sister to be locked away in a correctional facility, you’ll help me. understand?” you asked, speaking for the first time with a strict tone. “y-yes, momma…” he said as he pushed back in about 3 feet of dirt. he helped you lower his father’s mangled corpse into the grave, pushing back the remaining 3 feet of dirt.

“now, dear… i need you to head back to your station and see if any hunters reported a corpse in the forest, okay? and, make sure those police dogs you have sniff this area, so that they can find dad…” you said to him, explaining your plan. “yeah, okay, momma… i don’t want little emi going to jail…” he said. this was wrong, but it was to protect your family. for the children, right? you won’t let alastor ruin the family even in his death. if those cops found out that emilia killed alastor, they’d try to punish her for all of his crimes as well.

and with that, you returned home. and when noah came back, he returned triumphant. “they bought it, momma. don’t you worry, emi. no cops are gonna take you away. if they try, i’ll kill ‘em” he assured her, hugging his little sister as the weight on her shoulders fell.

this is good, right? even though it resulted in alastor’s death, all three of you are free from his manipulations. and, yes, you framed an innocent hunter— but, it was to protect the family. after all, you raised such wonderful kids, they don’t deserve to go to jail. they’re so kind, they’d dirty their hands for each other. and… that’s a good thing, isn’t it? they’re loyal to their family.

but then, the guilt finally started to settle in.

and it weighed on your shoulders when they finally lowered alastor’s casket into the ground.

1891 — 1933

loving husband and father

he will be missed by all who knew him

the monster was finally gone.

#the corruption is supposed to be subtext 😣😣 #btw im totes willing to write another part when reader finally dies n sees my pookie in hell 💞💞💞 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere

[dinogoofymutated]

Uhhh, so can I request something about Wolverine where both he and reader have a crush on each other but he won't show it and she is too afraid of rejection to confess, however, when Xavier sends reader to talk to Wolverine about their mission, she walks into his room and finds him top topless which only frustrates her more and leads to Logan noticing that and taking his chances to check her feelings 😓 Ahem you can make it NSFW according to the last thing I implied to 👀 hopefully this is not too out of character but I really crave any content about this man 😓😓😓

Also excuse my language if there are any mistakes, English us not my first language 🫡

SFW! Wolverine/GN!Reader

This is such a good prompt!! I hope this does justice for your vision!! Also- don't worry, your English is very good!! Hope it's okay that I implied NSFW instead of wrote it out explicitly. I didn't quite have the energy to get that far 😭

TWs: not many. Miscommunication. Reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned.

Anyone around the mansion could tell that something weird was going on between you and Logan.

You were always really jumpy and nervous around him. You'd squirm and fiddle with your hands when sat next to him, looking like you'd rather be anywhere else. You could be quick to lose your temper at him sometimes and you clearly dreaded training sessions with him. Most people just thought you hated the man, but the one time Jean had seen a peak into your mind she certainly knew the truth. The professor probably knew too, to be honest.

You were hopelessly pining for the man- But you'd never, ever confess to him. He was in love with Jean. He had been in love with Jean for years. There was no chance he ever had feelings for you. So- instead of facing these feelings, you had a bad tendency to run from them. Being around him made you jittery and nervous, sitting next to him made your heart beat crazily and you had a short temper with him because he was always running headfirst into danger. It didn't matter that he had a healing factor, you didn't like that he was endangering himself like that.

Logan, on the other hand, was always stoic. He treated you like any other X-man or friend. It didn't matter how his heart fluttered around you or the heat that rose to his cheeks every time you did something particularly attractive, he wasn't exactly an expert in love. He certainly had a hard time showing it. What he did notice though, was the change in your demeanor lately. You had been acting so strange, and it's gotten to the point where you'd straight up leave the room when he would enter, and he was frustrated. Logan was starting to get fed up with your newfound attitude, and despite Jean's gentle nudging, he certainly wasn't going to tell you what he felt for you. What he thought about you. If anything, It would give you more of a reason to hate him.

You had been successfully avoiding Logan for a while, having been in a particularly good mood today. That was until the professor pulled you aside and asked- well, told you to brief Logan about the upcoming mission. Your heart immediately dropped into your stomach. You, alone with him? In the same room? The professor was tasking you to dive into your own personal hell- and there was no way he didn't know that! All he did when you began to complain and make excuses was smile knowingly at you.

You swore that you had dissociated the entire time you had been walking to his room. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to be here, you didn't want to talk to him. Nope! You were absolutely dreading it.

You Knock three times. After a second of silence, you already find yourself overthinking your knock. Was it too loud? Too quiet? Maybe he could already smell it was you, and is just ignoring the knock so he doesn't have to look at your stupid flushed face-

"Come in." Okay, So, not that. You open his door slowly, not wanting to seem too eager to enter. You're looking down at the paperwork the entire time, mouth already running with the time of day everyone would be leaving, Which suits to wear, where you were going. You don't even look up until after the door has already been shut.

"There's a few more factors that need to be taken account of when we manage to get a better survey of the location but-" You yelp when you look up, greeted by a shirtless Logan, clothed only by a low-hanging pair of gray sweatpants. You're quick to cover your eyes, face burning from a mixture of embarrassment and... well, something else.

"For the love of god, Logan!" You gasp. You can hear Logan chuckle at your reaction, and the action lights a spark of anger inside of you.

"The least you can do is be decent when you invite me in!" You snap at him. He huffs a little at the change of tone, meanwhile you're trying your absolute best to forget how you practically saw everything in those sweatpants. You hear him take a few steps forwards until he's standing so close you can feel the heat from his body.

"So what? You've patched me up before. It's not like you've never seen me naked." Logan sounds annoyed, and you feel guilty for your reaction for a moment. You sigh, shaking your head.

"That's different." You say. Logan hums.

"Is it really?" His tone is teasing, and you almost feel humiliated. He's making fun of you. Of course he was. You were absolutely hopeless.

"Look, Just forget it. Take the damn papers and read the brief yourself." Your eyes are still closed as you slam the papers into what you think is his chest and try to turn to leave, but Logan grabs your arm. He doesn't even try to pick them up as he grabs the top of your arms, keeping you from running away as he walks you backwards.

"Look, I get that I'm not the easiest guy to get along with, but ya' never had a problem with me before. What's happened?" Logan's words start out rough, but if you didn't know any better you'd think that there was a little vulnerability leaking into his tone. You gasp as the surface of the cold door hits your back. You keep your eyes firmly shut, still not willing to open them and look at him. You didn't want to see his face, worried that you'd blush even more or he'd manage to figure it out- if he hadn't already. He'd just make fun of you. He wouldn't take you seriously. Would he?

"Nothing. Nothing has happened, happy?" You say, nerves creeping into your unsteady voice. It's hardly a lie, nothing really happened, but Logan had a habit of stiffing out dishonesty. He growls, and the sound makes your skin prickle.

"Don't lie to me. You can hardly look me in the eye." Logan growls. You scoff at him.

"That's not true!" A blatant lie, and you were sure it was obvious. Still, part of you was hoping he'd simply let it go. You should have known better, because everyone under the sun knew that Logan was one of the most stubborn men on the planet

"Prove it. Look at me." His words make you hesitate. You frown, not wanting to give in. Unstoppable force meets unmovable object- but with every push you feel your nerves start to go shot. You were anxious, flustered, worried- you just wanted it to all be over. If you just opened your eyes, it would all be over.

"Open your eyes, doll." You can feel Logan's breath fan across your face, and in the mix of shock, you finally open your eyes. Logan is so close to your face you can feel his breathing. You hardly know where to look, face flushing red as you blush as the close-contact. You get nervous when you make eye contact, gaze flittering about from his nose, to his ears, his sideburns, and to his lips. You must have let your eyes linger there for a little too long, because Logan starts to chuckle at you. You feel the sting of embarrassment. Logan sees something in your face shift, and knowing you'd just pull away again, he takes a shot in the dark.

Logan kisses you, and you have no clue how to respond to that at first. You go wide-eyed for a moment, but his hands let go of your arms and wrap around you and you cant help but melt into the kiss. He's a good kisser. I mean, with years of experience, you knew he would be. But getting to experience that yourself gave you a whole new perspective to it. He cups the back of your neck as he draws you in for another kiss, again and again. You're breathing hard when the two of you finally separate, Logan being mostly unbothered besides a small smile and a red tint to his cheeks.

"All that drama, and it's because you had feelings f'me. Heh." -is the first thing he says. You gasp, offended.

"Oh-shut up. S'not like you're any better than I am." You frown, sliding a hand around the back of his neck to yank him closer. "Seriously, you weren't exactly dropping hints." Logan chuckles again, Before hooking his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up and against him. You yelp as he does so, getting flustered when you realize that you could now feel everything that you had been trying to forget seeing earlier.

"I'm kissing you now, aren't I?"

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #wolverine headcannons #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett headcannons #logan howlett

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Nevermind (ao3)

Twelve months to the day since she and Elain were thrown in the Cauldron, Nesta finds herself at one of Feyre’s dinner parties, trying to wrestle with an entire year’s worth of grief— until Cassian holds out a hand. (For @nestaarcheronweek day 2)

“I fell out of love again, not with you but with living in general, and I lost a lot of friends, never mind. Cause I’ve been on a losing streak, my heart’s made of stone, and I can’t trust my own damn feet to show me the right way home.” - Nevermind, Deaf Havana

It was the laughter that rankled the most.

That stung as it echoed off the crystal wine glasses and polished silver knives that lay at intervals along the grand mahogany table; glittering peals of it reverberating as bottles were uncorked and priceless wine was poured as liberally as water. Edged in the soft evening light, their joy was bright and bold and loud and warm, but as the dark crimson liquid licked the sides of her glass when someone filled it, Nesta Archeron could do nothing but sit frozen in the chair set out for her in Feyre’s expensive new house, watching the wine settle in her glass, trying not to think of how much it resembled freshly spilled blood. 

There was no air in that expansive dining room trimmed with wealth and filled with golden light and laughter, no way to breathe, and as Nesta felt herself slowly suffocate, their laughter cut and pierced her skin like an entire quiver of arrows shot from seven different bows. Each one hit their mark; each one made her bleed. 

With a hand she forced steady, she reached for the wine and lifted it to her lips, praying she might find some relief at the bottom regardless of… well, everything.

She wished they’d given her whiskey instead.

Cheap wine and strong liquor— that’s what Nesta had grown used to these past months. What she wantedmore than fine wine and elegant dinners pierced with laughter she couldn’t share. But then— when had it ever really mattered what she wanted anyway? When had it ever made a difference? 

This wine certainly wasn’t cheap. It was rich and heady, the taste lingering on her tongue and coating the back of her throat, so thick she couldn’t breathe. It clung to the side of her glass as she lowered her hand, a smear of red staining the crystal that had her stomach churning and her throat threatening to close. Blood— did none of them notice, how much it looked like blood? It had her hearing not laughter but screams— had her tasting iron and recalling the way the blood had pooled between her fingers and collected between her knuckles only a handful of months ago. 

Around the stem of her wine glass, her fingers trembled.

So little time had passed since the battle that had made an orphan of her, and yet…

They laughed.

Still, they laughed.

It was why, in the time since they had walked away from that battlefield alive if not entirely intact, Nesta had done everything in her power to distance herself from her sister and her newfound family. She had found an apartment on the other side of the city, as far from Feyre’s new house as she could get, and most nights she tried her hardest to avoid Rhysand and the members of his Inner Circle, seeking solace instead in dive bars— trying to find it in the arms of strangers whose names she never learned and whose faces she wouldn’t remember when the sun came up.

But this night… 

This night was different. 

The wine soured on her tongue, the sound of their laughter almost making her flinch. It was twelve months to the day since she and Elain had been forced into that Cauldron— twelve months since she had been broken apart so irrevocably that she didn’t think that there was a hope in hell of putting her back together again. It was the only reason - the only reason - why she had accepted Feyre’s weekly invitation to dinner when so many others had gone ignored. Why Nesta had crossed the river and stood in that grand, echoing entrance hall, looking up at portraits of damn near everyone Feyre had ever met, and finding that the only absence was her own. 

The familiar hole in her chest had widened, yawned and gaped until it threatened to swallow her, and on this brutal anniversary she had thought that she might want, for once, to be near the only people who might understand the significance of it. Who might remember what day it was too.

She’d realised her mistake as soon as she stepped over the threshold.

Elain had been holding a cake on a silver stand, emerging victorious from the kitchen and smiling as she made her way to the dining room, where the cake now sat proudly in the centre of the table. Elain always makes dessert, Feyre had whispered as Nesta stood motionless in the doorway, trying to catch Elain’s eye and hoping to find—

What?

The same pain, reflected back at her in eyes she knew as well as her own? Some flicker of understanding?

Feyre had patted Nesta on the arm and slipped away to the sitting room, leading her to the space warmed by the glow of the fire and softened by the sound of laughter. But Nesta couldn’t find it in her to make her lips bend into a smile, couldn’t force a spark into her eyes. When Elain returned, and when Rhysand complimented the cake, her sister had blushed and dipped her chin, batting away the kind words with a soft smile and a demure tilt of her head. All the while Nesta sat in her chair, blinking, trying not to feel like a ghost that had stumbled and sat, unseen and unnoticed, at a stranger’s dinner party.

The laughter rose now, filling the dining room until the space was bursting with it, their joy pushing at the seams until it felt like Nesta would break beneath the pressure. As if from a great distance she heard Amren make some dry, cutting comment that she was too far gone to fully comprehend, and Azriel’s retort was a low, dark whisper across the silverware that had Mor’s laughter pealing all over again, like the ringing of a church bell. 

Nesta’s hand tightened on her wine glass.

Did they not realise— did they not see? Or was she just screaming into the void, her pain and her anguish swallowed by their laughter?

The grief was a collar around her neck, tightening with every breath and dragging her beneath the surface whenever she was reminded that this place was not her home, this life not one that she had chosen. When she looked in the mirror and glimpsed her reflection, Nesta saw elegantly arched ears and eyes that glinted silver and she mourned every. damned. time. On the rare occasions she managed a smile, her lips felt absurdly weighty, the curvature forced and unwieldy, too unnatural to be believable given that her chest was still so empty and hollow.

And none of them noticed.

It hurt.

Every breath hurt— still. They had told her it would get better with time, that she would learn to heal, but it hadn’t, she hadn’t, and all she had come to realise was that her anger and her sorrow and her pain could not be parcelled away, couldn’t fit neatly into their little box. It had teeth— teeth and claws and a taste for blood, and it was tearing her apart, day by day by fucking day.

But it was invisible to them, because they had ticked off the days, the weeks turning to months, and now that a full year had passed… Nesta had, apparently, sailed right past the point of her pain being acceptable.

She gritted her teeth now, the meaningless and inane babble making her want to take her fork and drive it through Rhysand’s neck. If any of them spoke to her, she didn’t hear it. Didn’t register it. Instead she sat with her back straight, pushing around the food on her plate and ignoring Mor’s disapproving glance when she barely ate a mouthful and chose, instead, to drain her sanguineous wine.

A silent scream began to build in her chest, one that threatened to cleave her in two.

The laughter grew louder, another bottle of wine was opened, and for all the size of the great dining room in Feyre’s new home, the walls seemed to be closing in, the air suddenly thin as ribbons of ice crawled up Nesta’s spine. When the food was cleared away, Nesta saw as if through water when Feyre pushed away from the table, lifting her glass and suggesting that they move to the sitting room for a while before returning later for Elain’s cake.

She didn’t hear the murmurs of agreement or the clink of glasses as her sister’s family got to their feet. She didn’t hear the scrape of the chairs against the hardwood floors - not even her own - and as the rest of them departed for one of the luxurious sitting rooms overlooking the lawns, Nesta curled a hand around the back of her chair as she stood, fingers curling painfully into the carved wood. 

“Nesta?”

Feyre’s voice drifted to her as she placed a hand on Nesta’s arm, but Nesta didn’t feel any warmth or kindness in her sister’s touch— felt only the icy kiss of the Cauldron and the hands that had held her captive in that throne room— a bruising grip that had held her down before water closed over her head, before her blood had boiled and her bones had shattered. 

The memory slammed into her, made her flinch. 

Against the onslaught Nesta took a breath, fixing her eyes on the windows and the night sky beyond, dark and clouded over, without a single star visible in the sky overhead. She looked into the impenetrable black, like a mirror to her soul.

“I’ll join you in a minute,” she managed after a long silence, her voice straining against the words. 

Slowly, Feyre nodded.

She drew her hand away and looked once at her eldest sister before turning for the door, and as the sound of Feyre’s retreating footsteps grew distant, Nesta found herself standing alone and motionless before the window, looking at her reflection and mourning the life she had lived twelve months ago.

A life where she had a father still, even if he had been absent.

A life where she woke each morning and recognised her face in the mirror; where there was a path laid before that she knew she could follow. A human, mortal path.

Nesta caught sight of her eyes reflected back at her in the glass, dark and humourless, as cold and as empty as a void. From the sitting room the laughter echoed still, Mor’s voice louder than the rest as she told some ridiculous, raucous story that had Rhysand shouting something in good-natured protest, that had Feyre gasping a laugh as she allowed herself to be regaled by some tale from her husband’s past.

Nesta wondered if she would ever laugh again— ever find a reason to smile. 

She had never felt more out of place than she did now, with her arms wrapped tight around herself as she stood alone, listening to the laughter and the joy of a family she would never be a part of. 

A mistake— it had been a mistake to come tonight.

She closed her eyes, wondering how much scorn she would receive if she left right now, without saying goodbye. Glasses clinked in the sitting room, and it was almost enough to make her dart for the kitchen and the door that she knew would take her outside, but before she could commit herself to running away, the sound of footsteps approaching made her open her eyes again. Looking at the dining room reflected back at her through the windows, Nesta didn’t bother to turn as the door was opened again, letting in another sharp slice of the mirth beyond. 

Cassian hesitated in the doorway.

Through the glass Nesta watched as he stood, lingering and drawing no nearer, even though his eyes had found her in an instant— had snapped to her, like seeking her out was the only thing he was good at. Without pause, without fear, he met her gaze in the window’s reflection, standing a handful of feet behind her as the heart in Nesta’s chest twisted painfully. 

“There you are,” he said gently. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, a stance so casual that Nesta could have forgiven herself for forgetting that he was a warrior born and bred, as ruthless as they come, with hands even more bloodstained than her own. The hair hung to his shoulders in a mass of haphazard curls, and the ruby earring he wore caught in the low light as he canted his head to the side, studying her with eyes that held no humour anymore, no hint of jest.

She wished now that Feyre had left the wine behind.

Cassian’s eyes searched hers in the reflection, taking in the hollows of her cheeks and the skin that she knew was too pale, too wan. His eyebrows inched together, a furrow forming in his brow as he took in the tracery of grief left behind, and when his throat bobbed with a swallow, something like concern alighted across his face. The scar slicing through his eyebrow was thrown into relief as his head tilted, his jaw tight as he looked her over, and something sparked in his eyes that she couldn’t bear, something so ardent and sincere that it made the hollow ache in her chest spread until she could feel it in her toes. 

She didn’t know what to do with it. How to handle it. 

So Nesta turned sharply on her heel, whirling to face him and taking some small pleasure in the fact that his eyes widened— that she had managed to surprise him. 

“You don’t want to join us in the sitting room?” he asked, his voice slow and careful. Like he was sizing up an opponent for battle.

Nesta snorted.

Regret glimmered in his eyes, edged with just the barest hint of sorrow, but it was there and gone in an instant. The hazel darkened, and Nesta felt the anger and pain that simmered beneath her skin extending its claws like a beast stretching languorous before the hunt. 

“Why should I?” she asked, poison seeping into her tone— poison as lethal to her as it was to him. Part of her knew she would regret it later, regretted it already, but she couldn’t hold back the tide of her grief alone. It was easier to let it swallow her, to let it drown her— easier to feed the anger than feel the pain, and so she lifted a chin and nodded to the doorway and the sitting room beyond, her lip curling on a sneer that only a small part of her tried and failed to fight. “So I can hear more tales about how wonderful your lives have been?”

Cassian’s eyes didn’t widen this time, like he’d expected every harsh word that had fallen from her lips. But he didn’t draw back— Cassian remained, resolute, with his face blank as Nesta’s arms tightened around her middle, as though her grip was the only thing holding her together. For half a moment she thought she saw his eyes soften— thought she saw him reach the same conclusion.

“So you can sit beside your sisters and remember what it is to be loved by them,” he suggested instead, removing one hand from his pocket and extending it smoothly out towards her. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow, splaying his fingers like all he wanted was for her to take his hand and let her fingers slip between the gaps he’d left in his. 

Nesta’s heart twisted again, and she thought that maybe - maybe - a part of her might want that, too. 

A pity then, she thought dryly, that she couldn’t see beyond the tangled mess of emotions that were churning up her chest like dried earth. That she couldn’t reach beyond the shroud of grief to accept the hand that he offered. 

She was silent for a moment, not quite knowing the words to say. His hand hung in the air between them, not quite enough to close the gap, and she was acutely aware that before her was a man who had thrown his life before hers, who had laid his head in her lap and grasped her hand as he lay dying. A man that she had barely seen since, who had started the hours and days after the battle by giving her space, and had never quite managed to stop. The distance between them was so great now that Nesta had no idea how to bridge it. 

And then—

“I know what day it is, Nes,” he said quietly.

He made the nickname soft, breathed it like it could somehow belong to someone with a tongue as sharp as hers. His lips parted as his eyes fluttered, his gaze drifting down, and gods, it was as much of a hand extended out to her as the fingers he still had stretching towards her, a bridge offered when she couldn’t find one herself. Nesta had stilled by the windows, immovable as stone, but when her eyes shifted from his outstretched hand to the eyes that he had fixed on hers…

She had never seen his hazel gaze so earnest. 

It was almost enough to make her weep, forcing apart the cracks in her chest with enough verocity to leave her in splinters. But Cassian didn’t blink, didn’t shy away from her, and when she said nothing, he only took a single step towards her. 

“I know what it is to grieve, you know,” he added softly, in a voice hardly more than a whisper. “I know what it is to mourn.”

The laughter from the sitting room grew louder, and Nesta felt her eyes close against it, like she might protect herself from it if she could only pretend she was somewhere else entirely. She heard the rustle as Cassian’s wings spread a little, and part of her wondered if he’d thought he might extend those wings and shield her, blocking out the entire world. Part of her wished he would. 

“Do you?” she managed as she opened her eyes again, tilting her head in a challenge that wasn’t half as sharp as she had intended. His eyes softened. “Do they?”

“Yes,” he answered simply. “But they don’t allow their pain to morph them into something else—“

“How dare you—“

“Nes.” He dared another step, eyes wide, lips parted. A plea shone in his eyes, edged with desperation. “Please.”

Nesta felt her lip curl, falling back on the all-too familiar anger that served as her shield— the defence she flung up to keep them all from looking at her too closely, from seeing just how much she had been torn apart that day twelve months ago. Just how much she’d been raked apart every day since.

“Please what?”

Cassian didn’t back away, and in the face of her barbed words he only took another breath, as if to tell her he understood— and he wasn’t afraid.

“Please let me help you. Let me do something. Anything.”

There it was again— the bridge he offered, the path back to the surface.

“You think after all these years I don’t know what you’re going through? That I don’t see it?” Cassian dropped his hand at last, curling it into a fist and bringing it above his heart. “That I haven’t been standing exactly where you’re standing right now, facing down the same damn thing?”

The beast inside her bared its teeth, claws raking down her spine. It begged to be set loose again, to snap and bite and lash out and even the slightest provocation, but…

Gods, she was tired.

So, so, tired.

“I can’t sit there and pretend,” she said at last, her voice tight in her throat. She nodded to the sitting room, to the laughter still drifting through the walls. “Just because a year has passed doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly made my peace with any of this.”

“I know,” Cassian said smoothly, reaching out his hand once again. He didn’t wait for her to accept him this time, and there was no hesitation or second-guessing as he took her hand in his and closed his fingers tight around her own. His eyes burned, his face lined with the kind of sorrow that Nesta knew would be etched across her own too, and she wanted to sob, wanted to crumble. But for once there was a crack in the darkness, a sliver of light pushing against the black and begging to be let in, and as Nesta’s fingers slid home between his, she let his warmth ground her just enough to pull her back from the edge— enough to let his light filter through the gaps. 

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he whispered, and just like that… 

Suddenly it felt like the weight she had carried alone for so long was shouldered by him too. Like he took a portion of it, eased the burden with nothing but a squeeze of his hand and a look in his eyes that said that even now, he wouldn’t forsake her.

And it didn’t fix everything - far from it - but she hadn’t realised how powerful it was to have someone there beside her, to take her hand when the darkness got too much, when the ache was too deep and the world too heavy. Somehow the teeth tearing her apart felt a little less sharp, the claws a little more dulled than usual; the beast calmed if not placated. The pain didn’t vanish,  but it was easier to bear somehow, and for the first time in twelve months, Nesta could see beyond her grief to the world beyond. 

Cassian’s fingers curled around her own, his grip tight, like he was loath to let her go lest she slip away into shadow again.

“Why?” she asked, looking down at their entwined hands. “Why do you remember when they don’t?”

Cassian shook his head. “They remember,” he said softly. “Elain remembers.” He nodded to the cake still sitting on the table, waiting to be cut after dinner. “Why do you think they laugh so loudly, Nes?”

His other hand lifted to her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek, as if to wipe away the tears that had yet to fall. He angled his head to the side, as if to hear the laughter, and when it echoed his eyes snapped back to hers. His grip on her hand tightened. 

“They laugh in the face of it,” he said. “They find the joy and cling to it.”

And what do I have to cling to, Nesta thought dryly. Who do I have to lean on?

She thought of the dim bars waiting for her and the nights she had spent in the arms of strangers, and even though she didn’t ask the question out loud, Cassian’s lips lifted at the edges, giving her a gentle, plaintive smile as he squeezed her hand— as if that was the answer.

As if he was the answer.

He tugged on her hand, his smile lifting to something wider, something more mischievous. 

“If you don’t want to face the sitting room, how about we just stay here instead?” he suggested. “Or slip away to Rhys’ study? There’s a chess board in there and believe it or not, I was never much good at it.” Slowly, the smile curving his lips grew into one that felt more genuine than any Nesta had to offer, but Cassian didn’t let it drop. His eyes glimmered as he added, “Would thoroughly humiliating me in a game of strategy help turn the night around for you?”

“You’d rather sit and play chess with me than be with your family?”

Cassian rolled his eyes indulgently, tugging on the hand she still had clasped in his palm. “Of course I would.”

Nesta didn’t know how to answer, but when she glanced up and met his eyes, there was a warmth there that she hadn’t expected to find. And maybe it wasn’t enough to chase away the dark entirely, but maybe it was the tether that she needed to a world that wasn’t so completely consumed by sorrow. Cassian’s fingers were so warm around her own, still holding tight to her even after she’d spent so long pushing him away - pushing all of them away - and for the first time in twelve months, she wanted to let herself feel that warmth, to let it sink into her bones.

“Come on,” he said, giving her hand another small tug. His smile turned somewhat conspiratorial, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If we’re quick we can sneak down to the wine cellar. I know where Rhys keeps the good stuff.”

The retort bloomed in Nesta’s throat— a cutting remark waiting on her tongue about how she didn’t want anything from Rhysand, not even his most expensive wine. A scowl threatened to twist her lips, but when Cassian waggled a single eyebrow as if to say, well? What do you say? she felt the words die on her tongue, turning to ash as she pushed the scowl back. For too long, the sharpness had been her only defence, the only armour she could call on. But with Cassian’s hand wrapped around her own and the small smirk at the corner of his lips somehow telling her they were in this together… 

Maybe she didn’t need the armour.

Not all the time. Not with him.

After all, he had taken her hand when she was hurting and hadn’t flinched as she spat and cursed. He had let her sharpen her claws, but had been there to bring her back when she needed it, when he realised that those claws were cutting her to ribbons too, and so this time, when Cassian tilted his head in a silent question and squeezed her hand one more time…

Nesta nodded.

Because she didn’t want the next year to be like the last, and she didn’t think she could do it alone, and he was there, holding her hand and throwing a smile over his shoulder as he led her from the dining room and towards the kitchen, headed right for the door leading down to the cellars beneath. And even though the grief inside her continued to snarl and writhe and claw, Nesta felt her steps fall in line with his and thought that as long as she wasn’t alone, as long as he was there, waiting to pick her up when she fell down…

Well, she thought as she squeezed his hand in return, maybe the next twelve months would turn out better than the last. 

New Taglist: (If you want to be added or removed, let me know!) @asnowfern , @podemechamardek , @c-e-d-dreamer ,@lady-winter-sunrise , @starryblueskies7, @melphss , @that-little-red-head , @misswonderflower , @fwiggle , @tanishab, @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard , @hiimheresworld , @wannawriteyouabook , @hereforthenessian @kale-theteaqueen

#nessian #nessian fic #nestaweek2024

[mycadences]

One of my main issues with Elriel is that a story with them would have no tension. Since Elriels claim the content of the BC doesn't matter, then the necklace incident cannot be the reason behind their falling out (if any). An Elriel story wouldn't start with Elain moping over the rejection since readers who haven't read the BC would be like "what rejection??" (This is in contrast to Gwynriel, whose mating bond is highly hinted at in the BC but even without it, the author can still confirm the mating bond in their book.) An Elriel book would start with them already liking each other... and then what?? Their plot doesn't even align (Elain = Koschei plot (tied to Lucien), Azriel = Illyria plot (tied to Gwyn, the only non-Illyrian Carynthian) and we won't see them falling in love on page.

With Elucien, there's tension because of the mating bond, and because they don't know each other that well yet. Elain resists the mating bond, but let's face it, if she wasn't mates with Lucien, she probably would have fallen in love with him. It's because of the bond that their relationship is seemingly strained, and the bond is also what SJM is known for!

With Gwynriel, they may not be at odds with each other the way Feysand, Nessian and Elucien are initially, but they are also at the friend stage. Watching them grapple with newfound feelings for each other (I don't know about you but the most heart-fluttering stage of a romance is when they, you know, actually begin to like each other and we get to see it happen) and a possible mating bond (with both of them feeling unworthy of each other) can provide obstacles and opportunity for growth for them as a couple.

And Elriel? Elain just has to break her bond with Lucien. So she'll be spending a significant amount of time with him aka her mate. And for things to be fair and to show that he loves her just as much, Azriel has to break his bond with his mate (an equal sacrifice on his part). And his mate is probably Gwyn. So he'll be spending time with her. Yeah, real nice, an Elriel book will just be them spending time with their respective mates...

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #elucien #pro elucien #antielriel #anti e/riel

[deus-ex-mona]

been thinking about how asuna’s [spoiler] scene in the last chapter of idol sengen is oddly underwhelming in the volume version compared to the piccoma release?

i mean l i ke (spoiler reveal under the cut)—

idk if it’s just me but seeing it in colour made the scene hit harder somehow? in some way?

s o . im just. thinking ahead here but…

what if i tried to overlay the colour panel onto the page when i eventually tl it in a few months?

i’m not good at picture editing at all.

b u t still.

i kinda wanna try to go the extra mile for asuna anyway… hmmmmmmmmm…

#oh welllll. in the end that’s for future me to decide ig… #i’m not even sure if anyone would be interested in it anyway… #maybe i could pay someone to do it for me instead (<-has 0 connections) #hm. maybe i should’ve tried to socialise more in school. maybe i’d have met a p.shop guy or two lmao #oh well. ig it’s video tutorial time… maybe… i hope i don’t fall asleep~~~~ bc it’s for asuna….!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #in any case!!!! my mind and productivity has been completely ruined by thoughts on my newfound doomed crackship of asuna x sena #like it’s a ship that could go wrong in so many ways (whether asuna gets with sena or not) and im just. ✨thoughts✨ yk??? #i love the concept of rivals/enemies to lovers asumona but. like. asusena. yk. #like picture this: ​pov you just realised that your loving gf’s sister is the same newbie idol you’ve been unfairly antagonising and such #a n d knowing how strong sena’s sisterly love for mona is… yk??? doomed crackship is ✨doomed✨ #aighhtttt ​ok im done with asuna thoughts for the day i s w e a r #(though ngl if they somehow end up giving asuna a cv and she somehow turns out to be ✨e m i t s u n✨ of honoka-chan fame (very unlikely)…) #(…i will pass on in ✨peace✨ idk i just think her powerful yet soothing voice would suit asuna (<-fell back into ll phase)) #o k o k im done fr this time i s w e a r anyways stan asuna frusu ok bye

[soulcluster-moved]

also not me trying to drag people into dragon age nooope not at all

#ooc #the other night i got makenzi #she said and i quote #“JEN I'M COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS” #which if that isnt a newfound love idk what is #AND THAT'S WHAT SHE GETS FOR DRAGGING ME INTO MHA #but yeah now I'm chatting with havu about DA

[direful]

same shit as always but i did NOT think s&g or hadestown would be here I thought it’d for sure be depeche mode & maybe ghost. or nin. but I guess my moving soundtrack was on loop for like 2 months this year lol

#heather’s been my 1 or 2 every single year btw she gets me #kind of a flop this year ngl I was hoping my newfound love of dungeon synth would show more #but I forgot that wrapped always seems to count the first half of the year WAY more #hurgle hurgle

[timeisacircleofangst]

crows as song lyrics pt. 1

Kaz: If clarity's in death why won't this die?/ Years of tearing down our banners you and I/ living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts/ Give me back my girlhood it was mine first

Inej: And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences/ Sit with you in the trenches/ Give you my wild, give you a child/ Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Jesper: Time won't fly, its like I'm paralyzed by it/ Just want to be my old self again/ But I'm still trying to find it

Wylan: You can let it go/ You can throw a party full of everyone you know/ You can start a family full of everyone you love/ You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Nina: What should be burrowed under my skin/ in heart-stopping waves of hurt/ I've come too far to watch some name-dropping sleaze/ tell my what are my words worth

Matthias: All of my past, I tried to erase it/ But now I see would I even change it/ Might share a face and share a last name/ but we are not the same

read tags for reasoning

#alright time to get deep and emotional #I think this lyric from Would've Could've Should've represents Kaz because it shows Kaz's ongoing conflict with Pekka and how Kaz has #basically lived only to get revenge on Pekka. All he wants really wants is his brother and childhood back and the only way he knows how to #is to take Pekka Rollins down. Kaz has to learn to let go of his obsession with Pekka and learn to move on. #Peace by Taylor Swift represents Inej because it shows how in love Inej is with Kaz and everything she does for him. It shows everything #she would do for him if he could get over his trauma and put in equal effort for her. #This lyric from All Too Well reminds me of Jesper because since leaving a wonderful home with a good family Jesper has become a theif #and gambler. He wants to be his old self but he's too far gone and now he needs to find a way to live mixing his old and new life and #learning to find happiness and what he has now. #Matilda by Harry Styles is perfect for Wylan because it shows how he can let go of his past and is allowed to be happy with his newfound #family of the crows. Wylan doesn't have to be sorry about what happened to his father or ashamed. He's allowed to feel happy and loved. #The Lakes by Taylor Swift reminds me of Nina because Nina faces a lot of disgust and shame for falling in love with a fjerdan but she #doesn't care about what everyone says about her. She feels entitled to her love with Matthias and is ready to begin a new life where she #loves him without guilt. #This lyric from Family Line by Conan Gray is representative of Matthias learning that Fjerda and the Druskelle do not define who he is. #Even though Matthias will always be branded by his past he knows he is not defined by his past and is not the same as he was before. #anyway thanks for coming to my tedtalk #six of crows #kaz brekker #wylan van eck #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #freddy carter #matthias helvar #shadow and bone #taylor swift #conan gray #harry styles #dree's posts

[musclesandhammering]

Ok I get that the Chaos/Order thing is a big theme this season, but I stg if they try to make Loki embody order while sylvie embodies chaos… I’m breaking up with marvel for real this time 😒.

#he is the GOD of CHAOS #HIM. he was there FIRST. He should get the payoff. NOT HER. #she’s already gotten to wear the iconic AoA horns when he didn’t get to #and she got to wear actual asgardian armour when he didn’t get to #and she gets to have cooler magic and fighting scenes than him #I sweeear if they give her the Chaos monicker and turn Loki into some boring ass cookie cutter neutral good archetype #that will literally ruin the character for me #because chaos is Loki’s WHOLE THING #like if you listen to any Twitter geek any YouTube reactor any irl marvel fan #every single one of them will tell you the reason they love him and the reason he has staying powers #is because you never know which side he’s on #and I feel like the writers just… don’t really get that #we don’t want him to be a hero. we don’t want him to be Order. #we want him to heal from his trauma and be a chaotic neutral with a little less pent up rage is what we want #and tbh I still think he deserves one last turn as a villain #it can fit with his character growth #it doesn’t have to be as selfish as it once was. #I can totally see in like Kang Dynasty or Secret Wars or smth.. it ends up being like #a choice between his new friends at the TVA and like a bunch of lives or smth #and he’s a villain again because he chooses his newfound family over what’s right #or smth like that idk. I just wanna see villain loki one more time #antisylki #anti sylvie #loki meta #tag meta #loki series

[fifteensjukebox]

i haaate writing texts to people i barely talk to who also happen to not be Online people like. what version of myself am i allowed to be here

#a childhood friend (we went to school together ages 4-10 and have seen each other twice since - once close to school and once in january) #anw she asked what i thought of the barbie movie and i said sth about it being pop feminist in my first message and felt the need to double #text to explain what i meant by it and (somehow not physically but very much in spirit) i have a headache now #oh no wait there it is physically:) #oh uh #barbie spoilers #i guess but yeah it was at the level you'd expect it to be on that but perfect camp fun in general and i loved it sm #anw i feel like i should've left it at the fun camp side of my review that's what she probably meant #regardless ive done that now #if anyone's following along since the January party this is the friend who introduced john to our group and may or may not have been t #*subtly trying to set us up so we're gonna have to have that conversation eventually which is soooooo fun but i love her n i love that we'v #been reconnected #oh god i just remembered she's trying to have us meet up w the friend who hosted the party and was absolutely in on the me and john idea so #that specific psrt of it will be hell especially if it comes up that i was more interested in andrew who went to school with us and managed #to accidentally reject him.... although if undoing that comes out of it (unrejecting him that is) i would not mind he is so babygirl #ok i am going to get ready for bed!! it has been so much of a day #omg she replied about barbie #this is the most perfect review this is kind of all i cared about and you addressed it w/o asking #though now i'm excited to see what the story line is bc i haven't seen the trailers #im so relieved and i have a newfound faith in our rekindled friendship im so excited #also i just remembered sth #i was way more of a kelly club girl and i think i first played with actual grown barbies at her house!! we had sm fun and i remembered that #but this brought so much back still #vie

[fictionadventurer]

Pop culture reduces It's a Wonderful Life to that last half hour, and thinks the whole thing is about this guy traveling to an alternate universe where he doesn't exist and a little girl saying, "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." A hokey, sugary fantasy. A light and fluffy story fit for Hallmark movies.

But this reading completely glosses over the fact that George Bailey is actively suicidal. He's not just standing there moping about, "My friends don't like me," like some characters do in shows that try to adapt this conceit to other settings. George's life has been destroyed. He's bankrupt and facing prison. The lifetime of struggle we've been watching for the last two hours has accomplished nothing but this crushing defeat, and he honestly believes that the best thing he can do is kill himself because he's worth more dead than alive. He would have thrown himself from a bridge had an actual angel from heaven not intervened at the last possible moment.

That's dark. The banker villain that pop culture reduces to a cartoon purposely drove a man to the brink of suicide, which only a miracle pulled him back from. And then George Bailey goes even deeper into despair. He not only believes that his future's not worth living, but that his past wasn't worth living. He thinks that every suffering he endured, every piece of good that he tried to do was not only pointless, but actively harmful, and he and the world would be better off if he had never existed at all.

This is the context that leads to the famed alternate universe of a million pastiches, and it's absolutely vital to understanding the world that George finds. It's there to specifically show him that his despondent views about his effect on the universe are wrong. His bum ear kept him from serving his country in the war--but the act that gave him that injury was what allowed his brother to grow up to become a war hero. His fight against Potter's domination of the town felt like useless tiny battles in a war that could never be won--but it turns out that even the act of fighting was enough to save the town from falling into hopeless slavery. He thought that if it weren't for him, his wife would have married Sam Wainwright and had a life of ease and luxury as a millionaire's wife, instead of suffering a painful life of penny-pinching with him. Finding out that she'd have been a spinster isn't, "Ha ha, she'd have been pathetic without you." It's showing him that she never loved Wainwright enough to marry him, and that George's existence didn't stop her from having a happier life, but saved her from having a sadder one. Everywhere he turns, he finds out that his existence wasn't a mistake, that his struggles and sufferings did accomplish something, that his painful existence wasn't a tragedy but a gift to the people around him.

Only when he realizes this does he get to come back home in wild joy over the gift of his existence. The scenes of hope and joy and love only exist because of the two hours of struggle and despair that came before. Even Zuzu's saccharine line about bells and angel wings exists, not as a sugary proverb, but as a climax to Clarence's story--showing that even George's despair had good effect, and that his newfound thankfulness for life causes not only earthly, but heavenly joy.

If this movie has light and hope, it's not because it exists in some fantasy world where everything is sunshine and rainbows, but because it fights tooth and nail to scrape every bit of hope it can from our all too dark and painful world. The light here exists, not because it ignores the dark, but because the dark makes light more precious and meaningful. The light exists in defiance of the dark, the hope in defiance of despair, and there is nothing saccharine about that. It's just about as realistic as it gets.

#it's a wonderful life #i know i've probably reached my quota of long posts about this movie #but i kept thinking about it and wanted to organize my thoughts into something a bit more refined #even though i'm mostly just restating what i said yesterday

[ellemj]

Off-Limits: Ch. 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.

            Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.

            Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.

            The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.

            “You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.

            “We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”

            Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.

            As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.

            Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.

            “It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.

Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.

“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”

Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?

Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.

“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.

“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.

“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.

“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.

“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”

It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?

            When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.

            When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.

            “We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”

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