#maybe they’ll hum along to songs with me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baronessblixen · 7 months

Text

Today's prompt: 5. "You're the smartest person I know."

Fluffy-fluff set in Detour: We get to see a bit more of Scully singing to Mulder... (wc: 1,000)

tagging @today-in-fic @xfficchallenges

Fictober Day 5: If I Were The King of The World

“Joy to you and me,” Scully sings, letting the words fade away into the thicket. Even with her being quiet now, there's no silence here. Every sound is a potential danger and every snap and crackle makes her hold Mulder closer to her body. He’s warm. So very, very warm. She knows she won’t fall asleep, but she can’t help but think about how it would feel to be pressed against his warm body in other circumstances.

“Where’s the second verse?” Mulder mumbles.

“Sleep, Mulder,” she replies, evading his question.

“You stopped singing. Can’t sleep if you don’t sing.”

“You can’t hear me sing when you’re sleeping.”

“I’m not asleep yet. Come on, Scully. The second verse is the best.”

“I don’t know it,” she lies.

“If I were the king of the world,” Mulder starts and she has to bite her lip because his singing is worse than her own. “Tell you what I’d do. Throw away the cars and the something and the something, hmm, how does that go? Now your line, Scully.”

The only sound is the rustling of their outdoor gear as Mulder moves his body to get more comfortable. She waits and holds her breath. It’s just a song. The line doesn’t mean anything. She knows the lyrics by heart, having sung the song with Melissa when they were children. One day, while at the beach, her sister was singing the second verse quietly watching a group of others, and Scully, feeling brave, asked her what making sweet love even meant. Melissa smiled and kissed her hair, promising her that she’d explain it to her when she was a little bit older.

“Scully? Sing the last line.”

It has been on her mind all day. That’s a lie. It has been on her mind for many days now. Making sweet love to someone. No, not someone. To Mulder. She can admit it to herself now. Here, in the dark, damp forest, where her secret is safe among the trees. At some point in the last couple of months, her feelings have sprouted in spite of it all. Now, she can no longer bury them deep inside. She doesn’t want to anymore either. If there’s one thing her cancer has taught her, it’s that no one is guaranteed a future. When this seminar came along, her plan began to hatch. With no monsters or aliens to hunt, she figured she and Mulder could maybe, just maybe, try and catch a slice of life. But of course, they ended up here, lost in the woods, Mothmen loose and Mulder wounded.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Mulder asks. His clothes rustle again and his elbow digs into her thigh.

“I’m awake,” she assures him. She’d tried. She’d really tried. Came to his room with wine and cheese. How much clearer could she have been? And now he wants her to sing that line. He’s good at making jokes, at flirting. The following through? Not so much.

He starts to hum the melody and then stares up at her again, making her wonder what’s going through his mind. A lock of hair is stubbornly standing up from his head, making him look impossibly young and boyish.

“It’s I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the wars,” she sings softly, correcting his earlier lyrics. The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement.

“What’s the next line then?” he asks with a voice smoother than the wine she drank without him last night.

“Make sweet love to you.” She says the words instead of singing them, hoping they’ll register somewhere in that brilliant mind of his.

“That’s it.” He sighs, burrowing deeper into her lap. He lies still and his breath is even. That’s it?

“Mulder, you’re the smartest person I know,” she says, shaking her head.

“Thank you?”

“But sometimes you just-”

“I just what?”

“Do you really not know what I was – when I came to your room with the cheese and the wine, did you really not know what I wanted?” He’s quiet for a long time, but Scully knows he isn’t asleep. They could have had this conversation in a warm, comfortable hotel room. They could have forgone the conversation altogether and just let their bodies talk. But that would have been too easy.

“I didn’t know. I figured that’s what you were doing, but… I wasn’t sure.”

“Mulder, I almost kissed you – who I thought was you – a few months ago. How can you not be sure?”

“So much for being smart, huh? What if you’re wrong about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if we… and then you decide it’s not worth it. That I’m not- I can’t risk that, Scully. I just can’t risk losing you again. I just got you back and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize it.” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried,” she says, running her hand through his hair.

“Am I still the smartest person you know?” he asks, and she chuckles. She leans down even though her back protests and kisses his forehead.

“Yes, Mulder. You are.”

“Likewise, you know. You’re the smartest person I know. So I hope you know that I’m- I’m not not interested.”

“I know,” she says quietly. And she does know. She understands that he needs more time. She can wait for him.

“I just-”

“I know, Mulder. Now close your eyes and sleep so that we can get out of here tomorrow.”

“Will you sing me another song?”

“Any requests?”

“How about some Elvis?”

“You promise me that you’ll close your eyes and sleep?”

“I promise.” She takes a deep breath before she lets go and just sings for him.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you,” she sings with a steady voice and she thinks Mulder is smiling against her. But he keeps his promise and falls asleep.

#fictober23 #how much fluff can you write? me: yes #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

83 notes · View notes

captainsimagines · 1 year

Text

pretty woman, this is me trying || six

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(6/14)

Mini-Series

Warnings: explicit language; angry Steve; overthinking idiots

Word Count: 4,170+

“His ass looks insane in those pants.”

Bucky tucked his face into his shoulder as innocently as he could. This was not the time to talk about Stark’s ass, especially at a public charity event. But damn did you liven these events up with just your presence alone.

You had called him asking if he was free today and he had begrudgingly said no. After a sad moment, he asked if you would like to tag along to a Firehouse grand opening, after which you said only if lunch was promised.

So here you two were, sitting behind four other Avengers and one Tony Stark, who was giving one of the strangest speeches Bucky had ever heard.

“If he squats—a couple squats, up and down, let’s be honest—they’ll rip. You think Pepper bullied him before he left their bedroom?”

Bucky was about to respond, to answer a truthful ‘I actually think those are her jeans’, when a bright red head whispered over a poised shoulder.

“You’re both wrong. She encouraged it because she bet him fifty-thousand dollars he wouldn’t wear them in public.”

Natalia Romanov.

“And how would you know this, Natalia?” Bucky whispered back, eyebrow quirked.

“Pepper and I’s daily coffee and crumpets, of course.”

“Are crumpets those things that look like pancakes, but are really just bread?” you interjected, leaning forward in your seat. Natalia glanced at you, giving one look up and down, her face absent of judgment. Absent of anything, really. Bucky knew she had an ongoing sheet of notes in her mind ever since he walked in here with you. Maybe even from before that. He doubted it—Bucky’s been insanely careful whenever he goes to your apartment. Hiding you in the compound is unnecessary. But even if he trusts Natalia, he didn’t want her knowing where you lived. Surprise visits were unwelcome.

“They are,” Natalia answered, that lovely smirk growing. “As Bucky’s new friend, I believe an invitation to brunch with the gals is in order.”

You fidgeted in your seat, lips spreading thin as you struggled to respond quickly.

“Introduce yourself first, Natalia,” Bucky grumbled. Stark was still talking at the podium, and none of his other friends had turned to join the quiet conversation.

Natalia finally turned her body and held out a graceful hand, her manicure as perfect as yours. “Natasha Romanoff, the red-headed one.”

You shook her hand, your awkward smile now turned childish and happy. Telling her your name had never felt more natural for Bucky. He liked hearing you introduce yourself. It reminded him of the day you two met.

“I-I know. I have your action figure.”

Natalia chuckled warmly, glancing over her shoulder at Tony. “Nice meeting you. Bucky’s been absent around the compound lately. Is it safe to say you’re the reason?”

“What does it look like, Romanov?”

“It can look like anything, Barnes.”

“Do me a favor and keep the cameras away from us, please? Especially if you see Reagan,” Bucky asked, jutting his chin toward the cameramen near the podium. You squinted at Bucky as he said this, an unspoken question at the tip of your tongue.

“Favors? At this ungodly hour?”

“It’s eleven in the morning.”

“I don’t aid others until I’ve had lunch.”

You cleared your throat, rubbing your hands together. You weren’t this awkward while meeting Tony and Steve. What was different?

“I would appreciate it,” you told Natalia.

“Camera shy?” Natalia hummed.

No, Bucky thought. But your photo invited questions, involved search engines, and was only one click away.

“Something like that,” you replied, flushing with mock embarrassment. Good, it would throw Natalia off your scent.

“Well, I’ll do my best,” Natalia promised. “You two ditching the ribbon cutting ceremony?”

“Isn’t that the point of this thing?” you asked, looking over the seats to get a better look at Stark.

“Yeah, but Tony will prolong it to the point I’ll point a gun to my own head. I suggest you two run before that show starts.”

Bucky grinned at her, shaking his head at her audacity. “I’ll get her out of here.”

Then Bucky reached over and patted your thigh.

Natalia failed to hold in her gasp. She quickly turned back around, straightening her shoulders as casually as she could. But Bucky knew what he had done.

No matter the startled reaction from Natalia, he had touched you in public. Without thinking twice.

His chest burst with overwhelming joy just as Stark finished his speech and bowed to the applauding audience.

Staring down at your boots probably wasn’t the most effective method of hiding your face from the cameras. Though, no one was paying much mind to you anyway. Especially when Tony Stark and Sam Wilson were currently posing for photo ops. Bucky was chatting with a donor about some other project, and Natasha had already snuck away. The ribbon cutting was in a few minutes.

When you attended events like this with your dates, you always tried your best to interact with the general population. Small talk, politely declining photos, building connections in places that could benefit you in the future. It didn’t feel right doing the same here. For some reason, establishing relationships within Bucky’s social circle felt dirty. You weren’t presenting your true self to these people after all. Who knew what would happen in January.

And Bucky’s comment about having Natasha keep the cameras away from you and leaving as soon as possible didn’t help. Almost like he was ashamed of you. Ashamed if his friends ever found out.

A throat cleared from beside you, the person responsible doing their absolute best at seeming small. But you had become familiar with strong builds, muscles influenced by both practice and science. You narrowed your eyes toward Steve, lifting an eyebrow in greeting.

“You and Buck have been seeing each other a lot.”

“Two weeks, eighteen hours, forty-three minutes, and seven seconds to be exact.”

Steve’s head nearly twisted from his shoulders as he processed your words. You stifled the laugh bubbling in your chest, smiling directly at him instead. “I am totally fucking with you.”

He cleared his throat again, his voice becoming lower. “We don’t date a lot at the compound. Too many people in it for the wrong reasons.”

“Bucky and I are just friends.”

“No, Buck doesn’t make new friends nowadays.”

“Give the guy some credit. Damn.”

“That’s not—” Steve caught himself, faking a smile for the people passing by. “I meant, we don’t even see him as often as you do.”

You simply blinked at him, unconvinced. Bucky didn’t like to be touched, but he did crave companionship. Maybe it was effort that was lacking in the Avenger circle.

“Where are you going after this?”

Something in Steve’s tone was accusatory, fishing for evidence of wrongdoing. You tried to minimize the effect it had on you considering you’ve heard much worse directed toward you and the profession. It was blurring now, however—Was Steve trying to learn the specifics of his friend’s condition, or was he uncomfortable with your presence in general?

“Ice skating. But I did want to make a quick pit-stop at the bomb store before that.”

“Great, you’re funny.”

“I’m more than just my wit, Captain.”

“I see how Bucky would be attracted to that. I do. But I’ve been trying to get him out of that apartment for more than just three times a year. He’s been going out with you way too often.”

Honestly, it probably would have been a lot easier if Steve just punched you in the face.

“Why are you questioning him?”

“I’m questioning you.”

“Why are you questioning me, questioning him?”

Steve blinked, mouth parting with the absence of sound. He glanced around the crowded room, at the dozens of reporters and at the gigantic Christmas tree balancing on its measly stand. At the firefighters posing for pictures with Stark and Sam.

Finally, as if it took considerable effort to formulate a response, he answered, “Ice skating at Rockefeller?”

You rolled your eyes, expecting more than that. That earned you a set of wide eyes from the Captain.

“Yup. Oh, and since I’m sure you’re dying to know—My favorite color is green and my period doesn’t start until next month. I am ovulating, though.”

Steve continued to stutter as you lengthened the distance between you. If he wasn’t trying so hard to find out what damn color you bled, you’re sure you could get him to like you. Fall in love with you, even. Men were simple like that.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted, smiling wide as you approached him. Once you were close enough, he angled his body so that the cameras were stuck with odd angles of you. “You ready to go?”

“Always.”

You chanced a look over your shoulder out of curiosity, hoping to see something that would paint a positive image of Steve Rogers in your head. Yet, you witnessed Steve strip that tough demeanor and adopt what looked like distress. A once brooding, mountain of a man crumbling rock by rock, unable to stall the landslide of panic.

“I’m going to look like an asshole.”

Your laugh sounded across the ice, startling surrounding skaters. Bucky had asked for an hour of skating instead of the usual thirty minutes per couple. After showing his ID, he was promised two. He hadn’t known, however, that out of the two of you only he knew how to ice skate. Who lived in New York for over ten years and hadn’t visited this skating rink at least once?

Listen to him. Talking as if these traditions made sense in his own brain. It was a new attraction in the 1930s, but he and Steve had never afforded it.

Steve probably really wanted to take him.

“You know how to skate. My ass does not. So you’ll be forced to save me from face planting!”

“Coercion.”

“Strategy.”

“Trickery.”

“Smart!”

Bucky huffed, skating around you in a perfect circle. You wobbled, stretching out your arms to gain balance. He didn’t want you to fall, but the sight of you trying hard not to was definitely entertaining.

“I’ve got it, look look look!”

“Oh, I’m looking.”

“To the center!” you declared, pushing yourself forward. But your skates were slightly tilted, so you scraped the ice instead.

“Alright, alright. You’re breaking my heart,” Bucky admitted, skating to your side. Your warmth was a welcoming distraction. Countless, nameless faces skated past him and although the voice at the back of his warned him of it all, all he focused on was you.

You and your mittens and your incredibly wobbly legs.

“Like this,” he instructed while holding out his metal hand. You gripped it tight, smiling like you had already won. But this wasn’t what was expected from a person who was sure to face-plant—You expected Bucky to catch you before you broke your nose. He would have to hold you, pull you up or pull you into his chest, and it scared Bucky to death.

He led you to the circle at an extremely slow place, barely pausing in time to avoid crashing into the other skaters. He struggled to protect your wobbly ass all while you laughed.

“I want to twirl like them!”

“I’m gonna need you to fuck off with that dream.”

“But it looks so fun!” you whined.

Bucky grumbled, scowling at the group of girls who were performing fucking Disney On Ice. “Can’t you just hold onto the ledge?”

“I spent twenty dollars to skate like a professional!”

“I spent forty dollars on both of us, don’t lie.”

You grumbled this time. Once you were at the center, you stopped and balanced yourself. “My feet hurt.”

“You complain a lot, you know?”

You giggled, “I complain about things I’m not good at.”

“How do you expect to get any better then?”

“Twirl me and I promise I’ll get better.”

Bucky shot you a stern look, watching as the air that left his mouth fogged across your face. You scrunched your nose, challenging his expression. Yet, the longer you two stared at each other, ignoring the skaters around you and the cold, Bucky folded.

He ran a hand down the top of his beanie to the back of his neck as he sighed, “Fine. But when you break your face, I don’t want to hear shit.”

You cheered, pushing away from him to prepare yourself. He forced himself not to smile. All these weeks, you have given him things. Confidence, soft touches, cookies, a damn dog. You wanted to twirl? This he could make perfect for you.

“Core and thigh strength, plus balance. That’s all it takes,” he directed, holding out both hands. You took them and nodded your understanding, preparing yourself for however way this was going to go.

“I’m going to skate in a circle, basically dragging you along with me. Once we gain some speed, I’ll twirl like they do when waltzing.”

“What if my feet get tangled with yours?”

“Then we both die. Alright, ready?”

He didn’t allow you time to prepare at all. He skated fast to start with, effectively avoiding all that awkward starter-wobbling. You yelled from behind him, expletives meeting his ears and no doubt meeting others. Bucky didn’t mind one bit. He used to worry about what people thought about him. Whether he was good or evil, that is. With you, he was carefree and at peace.

You could scream all you wanted.

“Ready?” he called, speeding a little further. You squealed, your answer incoherent.

He waited until you occupied an area with little to no people, then turned in your grip. He raised his metal arm, disconnecting your flesh ones, and turned you in place.

Your feet didn’t collide with him or trip over themselves. You twirled like a beginner ballerina, clumsy and cut-off, but you twirled. It apparently counted because you were already cheering before he twirled you again.

And again and again.

He stopped as people neared, attempting to slow. But someone cut him off as he tried to turn back around, and Bucky could not catch himself in time.

With your hands still connected, Bucky plunged to the ice and pulled you down with him. He cupped your head as you rolled, using his metal hand to claw at the ice. Luckily, you stopped rolling before you hit anyone else’s feet. Bucky landed on top of you, air pushed from his lungs.

He looked down, meeting your merry gaze. You smiled widely, chest wracked with laughter. Bucky let himself sink into the feeling of being on top of you, of holding the back of your head, of his lips being mere centimeters from yours. He let himself feel it all.

And found that he wanted to remove himself because he was crushing you, not because his body was rejecting it. He breathed in the cold night air, nearly choking on it, ecstatic.

“I twirled!”

Bucky bit his lip, his cheeks turning even redder. “You did.”

“Do you want to come back the day after Christmas and show me how to jump?”

He chuckled, “It’s a date.”

He rolled onto his back, facing the night sky. If you two didn’t get up soon, you would be put on blast by the speakerphone. Still, Bucky relished the few seconds he was afforded, even chancing counting stars.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky turned to look at you and found an expression of pure joy. Like you were grateful for a mediocre twirl on an ice skating rink. Had no one taken the time to twirl you off the ice? Had you ever been twirled at all?

“You’re welcome.”

He reached a hand between your bodies, and held your hand. Flesh to metal, for longer than a few seconds.

He didn’t let go until your two hours were up.

Bucky pet Axel’s head when he greeted you both at your apartment door. His food bowl was empty and his water needed to be refilled. You grabbed a glass and filled it, then bent down to do just that.

“Did you bring his treats?” you asked, waving at Axel like had full capability of waving back.

Bucky didn’t respond, so you looked to where he was standing in the middle of your living room. Perfectly still, eyebrows scrunched. Listening.

“Don’t tell me it’s the Ghost of Christmas,” you teased, walking straight to him.

“Get behind me,” Bucky ordered, physically pushing you back.

Bucky… Pushed you back.

Without preparing himself, without warning, without breathing deeply beforehand. Bucky Barnes pushed you back, to protect you, and did not think twice.

You stood behind him, an arm’s length away from his back, and stared at the window. Frost crept up the sides, taunting you with the unknown, before something cracked.

Not the window.

A line.

“Shit!” a man screamed from outside. A whoosh of wind caught up to his scream’s echo, then the culprit landed on the fire escape. With his gun steady, Bucky rushed to open the window.

“Clint?”

“Hey, man,” Clint groaned, rolling over onto his back. Gripping his torso, Clint struggled to stand as his lips spread into a sheepish smile. “How’s your day been?”

“Fucking chipper,” Bucky remarked, his expression hard. “Care to explain?”

“Uh, it was actually my idea,” a female voice echoed. Natasha shimmied down, still perfectly attached to her rope. Unhooking herself, she offered the same embarrassed smile as Clint. “I forgot to hook him.”

“She was trying to kill me,” Clint retaliated.

“Oh, hush. You’ve fallen a dozen times, you’ll live.”

Clint angled his head at her, offended.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” Bucky questioned, his voice dangerously low. Never had you heard that voice from the man. It was the sweet side of him you were familiar with. Not even when he was bored, annoyed, or the slightest bit angry with you did his voice hit that low of an octave.

“Steve sort of—”

Before Clint could even finish his answer, Bucky pulled back from the window and stomped to the other side of the room. Probably to keep himself from wringing Clint’s neck.

“I told him,” Bucky interrupted, his lips drawing back in a snarl. He wasn’t angry—he was furious. Bucky Barnes had basically been told that his bestest friend in the entire world did not trust his own word. “That I knew her. That I’ve been seeing her for a while now. That she has not hurt me, has not tried to mess with my head, has not fished for Avenger information. She is my friend. And he sent you after me because he didn’t trust me when I said that?”

Natasha squared her shoulders. “You had not left the compound in months. This was… Changed attitude. Steve was just—”

“Even she has told him, a million times, that she is my friend.”

Natasha opened her mouth to say more, but it was obvious she had nothing. If Steve held worries, then Natasha believed him. In any way he described them, Steve and Natasha were friends before they were teammates. That’s what Bucky had mentioned a week ago when he was describing his own friendship dynamics between him and the group. Natasha believed Steve, and now she realized just how wrong he was.

“We’re sorry,” Natasha said.

“We’re wh—?” Clint began, but Natasha jabbed her elbow into his still sore stomach.

“We’re sorry,” Natasha repeated, shaking her head in guilt. “He really made this whole situation out to be more dangerous than it is.”

Bucky nodded, but it was evident he wasn’t going to forgive that easily.

“Do you want to come in?” you hesitantly asked, stepping out from behind Bucky’s broad back. “It’s cold outside.”

“I could smell those cinnamon cookies from up on the roof,” Clint commented, his smile widening into a true grin.

“No,” Bucky ordered, “Do not let them in here.”

“Your name isn’t on the lease, sir,” you teased, stepping around him. Holding out a hand, you waited for Clint to accept the greeting. “We can spare five minutes, can’t we?”

“Yeah, Barnes! Can’t you spare five minutes?” Clint shot back, reaching out to shake your hand.

“I don’t want to spare five cookies, let alone five minutes.”

You giggled, but understood where he was coming from. “Maybe some other time. Wait there, then. I’ll get you cookies to go.”

“How sweet,” Natasha said, genuine. She eyed Bucky, an unspoken conversation swaying in both their irises. Clint remained on the ledge, one leg inside and one out.

“You got roommates?”

“No,” you answered, packing ten cookies into a plastic container. “But I do have a baseball bat.”

“Nice,” Clint praised, nodding his head. “I can get you a gun.”

“Get me some arrows!” you cheered, suddenly excited. “I’ve always wanted to try archery!”

“Bet? Next time you’re at the compound, come to the training rooms. I can totally hook you up—”

“It’s nice and all that you’re getting along. Trust me, it will make me happy some other time. But I am still angry with you two right now, so we’ll catch up later,” Bucky interrupted, looking down at the floor. Natasha had turned her attention toward the city. “Tell Steve I won’t be coming home tonight.”

Natasha whipped her head around, eyes suddenly full of worry. “Are you sure that’s a good—”

“I feel safe here.”

Your heart leapt miles, bouncing in your throat and inside the confines of your skull. Happy chills spread throughout your body, the whole room. You were sure the other three could sense them.

Bucky Barnes felt safe in the one place you had made your own, called your own. The place you littered with stickers, and scrapbooks, and miniature busts of Greek goddesses. With paintings you bought on the street for ten dollars, with spices occupying every cabinet of your kitchen, with blankets of all shapes and colors. The place you had spent so many lonely nights, with cups of tea and books stacked in your bookcase—this place made Bucky Barnes feel safe.

Pride illuminated your features before you could reel it in, and it was obvious both Clint and Natasha registered it. That Bucky’s words made a delightful impact. And who were they to go against it?

“I’m guessing you want me to phrase it exactly like that when I return?” Natasha insinuated. Bucky nodded his head once, enough of an answer, and shooed them away from the window.

“Wait!” You rushed over with the container of cookies. “Here. It was nice meeting you both. No matter how awkward it was.”

“It was nice meeting you, too,” Natasha replied. That signature smirk lifted that lovely cheek over hers, and she whispered your full name under her breath. Something in her tone let you know that she was merely repeating what you had told her earlier. But that something was hiding a greater element, like she was telling you that you were just a google search away.

Your real name wasn’t on that website. But it was on your bills. On the debit card connected to the account.

Natasha Romanoff wasn’t a threatening woman when it came to other women. That wasn’t in her nature. Women hadn’t hurt her. She uttered this like a warning, that if she could find you online, it meant anyone could.

“Take me up on that offer,” Clint said, taking the container from you. “I’ll gladly teach you the ways of the nimble fingered.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. You waved goodbye as they scaled the wall to the roof.

Counting to three, you finally turned and quickly said, “Bucky, I was only being kind. They’re your friends and I know what they did was out of line, but it’s in my nature to at least offer them some water—”

Bucky Barnes lunged forward, cutting off your unnecessary apology, and wrapped his massive arms around you. Holding you tight, enveloping you in a warmth you hadn’t felt in ages. He squeezed tighter until he was certain he wouldn’t break you in his grasp, and remained there. Holding you for a few seconds longer before his body rejected the closeness. Slowly, he set you down. It wasn’t until then that you realized he had lifted you up.

“Can I stay the night?”

“You can stay the night,” you agreed.

“Can you brush my hair again?”

It was the hope in his blue eyes that had you immediately answering, “I can brush your hair again.”

Then, hesitantly, “Can we share a bed?”

No sound besides your stuttered breath was heard. “We… We can share a bed.”

“With a pillow wall in the middle.”

You sputtered a laugh, lifting a hand to your lips. “With a pillow wall in the middle.”

Bucky’s earlier rage had dwindled to nothing. You were sure he was storing it for later, perhaps when it was time to confront Steve. He closed and locked the window, rubbing his hands together to produce extra heat.

“Don’t offer my cookies to other people.”

You laughed loudly, falling onto the couch. Bucky watched, his eyes crinkled with joy.

You slept in the same bed that night, the pillow wall constructed perfectly. Two amateur engineers laughing the whole time.

But in the middle of the night, it was impossible to tell if it was nature or your ill math that caused the two of you to spurn those pillows, and spend the night close to each other.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #holiday fanfic #marvel fanfiction #pretty woman au #captainsimagines #by Moni

166 notes · View notes

merakiui · 2 years

Note

Imagine the Jade making floyd babysit you while he is gone. Or vice versa either way works.

"Lil shrimpy don'cha ever feel shame that someone has to keep an eye one you? What are ya? A lil baby shrimpy? Need Jade to change yer diepies cuz ya got a lil stinky? Or are ya just so stupid that you would try to swim right into a shark's mouth?"

"I don't need a baby sitter! But that creep won't even leave me some privacy when i pee! Leave me alon-"

"Quit bein'a brat before i get angry, no one is to talk down on my brother, know yer place slut." Floyd's face contorts into horrifying expression. He shoved two fingers in your throat.

Darling just cries from the utter humiliation because of the fingers floyd is keeping in your mouth, a whine came out of your throat.

"On the bright side i get to spend time with shrimpy alllllll by myself. We are gonna have a lotttt of fun!" Floyd says back into his sing song voice.

Floyd immediately strips you and messily makes out with your leaking pussy, with the fingers lubricated he wastes no time to start stretching you out.

By the time jade comes back his darling is all slimy and filled to the brim with many bite marks and all, escape really is inevitable.

(this is from the same anon that written the bully!tweels about cum play, expect more of these 🥵)

Bully!tweels anon here. Just to clarify, no the tweels don't actually change diapers for mc. Floyd is just being a meanie tease. But yes they do watch your every move with no shame.

- - -

Bully!tweels anon… you are blessing me with your thoughts omg!!! The twins would be horrendous bullies. </3 literally the worst.

(cw: yandere, female reader, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, the twins are really mean :(, humiliation/degradation)

You can expect to be fucked silly when Jade leaves you with Floyd. What’s worse is that Jade knows very well what to expect when he returns from wherever he was and the sight is heartwarming to him. He thinks it’s so sweet you get along so well with his brother, even if you’re too scared to deny him what he wants. Floyd loves playing with Jade’s shrimpy! Your reactions are always so cute and your tears are the tastiest. He’ll lap them up when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, grinning down at you when you weakly cry out for Jade. If you think Jade will help you, your hope is sadly misplaced. He could be reading a book while Floyd rearranges your insides on the other side of their room, blissfully humming to himself. Or he’ll happily watch and comment on how it’s so kind of you to always entertain his brother. He knew you were a sweet soul. <3

I like to think they’re even meaner if they find out you’re crushing on Azul. They’re always poking fun and asking you what it is you like about Azul. You think they’re genuinely curious, but then they’ll just throw your words back in your face with cruel chuckles. They definitely tie your arms behind your back and Floyd holds your legs apart so that Jade can force a tentacle dildo into your tight hole. They’re just preparing you for Azul! If you really love him, you’ll love every inch of him, right? And lucky for you his tentacles are many inches. :) This is just practice for the real thing! Aren’t the twins so kind?

It’s heartbreaking if Azul doesn’t even spare you so much of a glance while you work your shifts at the lounge, hoping to catch a glimpse of him whenever you can. That’s awfully pathetic of you, and the twins will merrily point it out. You think Azul would ever love you? Maybe if you make a contract with him and that’s your wish. But other than that? Good luck. (They’re so mean and not supportive in the slightest. They’re the type to hype you up to a confession while knowing exactly what answer you’ll receive.) They also find all sorts of ways to humiliate you in front of Azul to lessen your chances of getting him to fall for you. They’ll break your spirit eventually, and when you give up on Azul they’ll be there to force their way inside your fractured heart.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #tw: dubcon #n/sfw

173 notes · View notes

yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

Text

Heart Shaped Wound

Chapter 23

Author’s note: you’re getting like 3 chapter of Hanayama. Congrats!

I associate Hanayama’s feelings with the song Sinunoga E-wa bu Fujii Kaze so I’d recommend listening to that song as you read this chapter.

Quotev Link:

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

(Your name) placed her hands in her lap as she sat across from Hanayama in his limousine. The yakuza male’s intense gaze never leaving her face. The limousine cruising around the more scenic side of Tokyo. She had no idea how long they’ve been riding together in a comfortable silence so far.

“Is there something on my face?” (Your name) asked the yakuza who only hummed.

“You look pretty today.” The compliment felt foreign when it left his lips. Hanayama wasn’t the type of man to casually compliment someone but he truly meant it. Hanayama thought she was pretty and he would tell her everyday if he could.

“Thank you. I feel as if I look a little informal compared to you since I was training a bit.” (Your name) smiled up at Hanayama who’s eyes widened. “But it is nice to hear that I still look pretty despite being sweaty.”

Hanayama glanced away, a faint blush on his scarred cheeks. He didn’t know why she had the power to fluster him but she did. She was the first woman who ever caused his heart to soar when she smiled. He enjoyed the feelings she stirred in him. It was why he kept giving her so many gifts, he wanted to be the cause of her smile.

Hanayama handed her a gift, his eyes softening at her smile. He bought her a pair of luxury heels. His heart doing flips when she glanced up at him to give him a genuine smile.

“Thank you, Kaoru. You’re always giving me gifts… I’m serious about wanting to do something in return.”

Hanayama hummed to himself, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead.

“You know exactly what I want.” Hanayama placed his right hand under her jaw, his eyes never leaving her face. “I want you to be mine.”

(Your name) leaned into his hand. She was really fortunate he was a patient man but she knew he would one day, eventually run out of patience. For now, she’d play along to satiate his hunger for her. Hanayama was another man that was the whole package, he just didn’t express his emotions often so sometimes it felt like she was talking to a wall. A sexy wall.

Hanayama glanced up to gaze at Kizaki in the driver’s seat.

“Take us to a onsen. (Your name) seems stressed.” A onsen? Like one of those open spa baths people gather in?

“Of course boss.” Kizaki hummed. His boss was smart, he’d hand it to him. Kizaki would bring them to a place that allowed couple to bathe together so Hanayama could take this chance to bond with her. Maybe even deepen their relationship a bit.

Kizaki was willing to do whatever it took to ensure Hanayama’s happiness. Stalking, murder, and hiding a body was a part of Kizaki’s life now and he just had to accept it. Hanayama hasn’t been this at peace since before his mother passed. Hanayama even raised his pay.

Kizaki loved the influence (your name) had on Hanayama. He was starting to change for the better.

Kizaki cast a glance at the two on his rear view mirror. (Your name) resting her head on Hanayama’s shoulder with a smile. Should he take a picture for Hanayama?

Kizaki snuck his phone out and snapped a quick picture. A smile on his lips at how happy Hanayama looked. He’d gift it to Hanayama after they dropped off miss (your name) home after the spa trip.

“A couple onsen?!” (Your name) flushed as Hanayama led her towards a room to change.

“Yes. It’s just in case your weird ex follows us.” Hanayama bent down to huskily whisper in her ear. “It’s a private onsen so it’ll just be us. My men are lurking around outside so they’ll stop him if he tries anything.”

(Your name) gulped with a blush. She knew for proper etiquette they’d both have to completely strip down but she was afraid… she’s never had a man see her bare before.

“I’ll look away and you don’t have the stand too close to me if that makes you uncomfortable.” Hanayama placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I want you to tell me you want me.”

“Thank you, Kaoru.” Hanayama adored the blush he caused. It was something especially reserved for him and he adored every second of it.

The two stepped into the changing room, Hanayama keeping his word. Even thought it was tempting to gaze at her bare form, he wouldn’t violate her trust. He knew his patience would pay off and if he kept playing his cards right, she’d fall right into his hands. And he’d never let her go.

Hanayama wrapped a towel around his waist. The giant man smiling at the thought of enjoying such a soft, vulnerable memory with (your name).

“I’m ready.” Hanayama turned around, his eyes softening at her nervous expression. A white towel covering her body from his hungry eyes.

“Let’s head in. I’ll turn around when you take off the towel if that would make you comfortable.”

“Yes, please.” (Your name) appreciated how well mannered Hanayama was. It made him appear a lot older than he was and (your name) really liked older men. It was hard to believe Hanayama and her were about the same age. “I appreciate you for always having my best interest at heart.”

“I like seeing you satisfied.” Hanayama replied, holding out his hand for her to take. (Your name) placing her much smaller hand in his. “And happy.”

Hanayama led her over to the onsen, released her hand. The yakuza turning around for her to strip her towel and step in.

(Your name) slid the towel off her body and slipped into the warm water of the onsen. A satisfied sigh escaping her lips once she immersed herself in the comforting embrace of the water. Her chest covered from his high the water was.

“This is wonderful, Kaoru-“ (Your name) turned around to tell Hanayama to head in, only for her entire body to turn beet red at the sight of his in the nude. (Your name) placed her hands over her eyes and gave, turning around with a speed that wasn’t human. “I’m so sorry!”

Zaria was correct in him being massive but he wasn’t as big as Jack. She didn’t think anyone was ever going to top Jack in that department.

Hanayama chuckled, sinking his body in beside her.

“I don’t mind if you look at my body.” Hanayama whispered seductively, (your name) only turning redder in response. “You can see my body whenever you want.”

“You keep saying things like that and I’ll die.” (Your name) cried out, Hanayama placing a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. “Don’t laugh at me. I’ll die.”

“I won’t let you die. I’d follow you into the afterlife.” Hanayama moved his body a ways away from hers so she could get comfortable.

“Corn ball.” (Your name) replied, uncovering her face. Her cheeks returning back to their usual color. “Is it safe to turn around or are you going to flash me again?”

“My back is facing yours.” (Your name) turned around to see Hanayama’s back. Her eyes widening at all the scars that littered his body. A soft gasp escaping her throat at the sight. “Are you alright-“

Hanayama froze when he felt small, soft hands on his back. His breath hitching when her fingers traced the scars on his back. Is this what Katsumi felt like when she traced shapes on his unworthy self?

Hanayama’s eyes almost rolled back in his head as she continued her gentle demonstrations. (Your name) was starting to become a drug to him. The more she touched him, the more he craved. The more he desired to own her. To permanently etch himself into her body, mind, and soul. Until all she could breath in, think of, feel, and love was him. And she had no idea how she was driving him mad with lust but he would never tell her. Hanayama didn’t want to scare her with his muddled feelings of lust and love.

“These must’ve hurt.” Hanayama’s eyes widened at her words, his throat going dry. She was concerned that he was in pain… how naïve of him to think her hands on him meant something impure. (Your name) was the only thing on this green earth he’s ever met that was pure like this. And Hanayama loved it.

“They’ve been there for many years. They don’t hurt at all anymore.”

“Still… you don’t deserve to be hurt like that.” Hanayama shivered when he felt her press his hands against his back and lean into him. Her hands prevented her chest from touching his back but he knew he’d lose his composure if she did so he was grateful to her for not doing that.

“I received them when I went to avenge my father.” Hanayama muttered, not moving when he felt her pull away and continue tracing over his scars. He felt so calm with (your name) and he felt comfortable enough to talk about himself with her. It encouraged him to continue. “The ones on my back are from swords while the ones on my face… they’re from the hands of the rival yakuza boss I strangled to death and from a criminal I defeated a few years ago. He forced me to bite done on several handgun bullets and it blew away my cheeks.”

“You’re so strong, Hanayama.” (Your name) whispered, Hanayama having a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Thank you for sharing your past with me.”

“You told me you wanted to know more about me on our first date.” Hanayama whispered, (your name) smiling at his words.

“You’re very good at remembering things.” (Your name) smiled, pulling her hands away from Hanayama’s body. “I like that.”

Hanayama sunk his body in the water more to try to imitate the warmth of her hands.

“Tomorrow after our date… can you spend the night with me? No funny business. Just sleeping side by side.” Hanayama asked, (your name)’s eyes widening in surprise. Hanayama was asking for a sleepover?

“We can.” (Your name) smiled, Hanayama rising back up, a pleased expression on his face.

“I’ll pick you up at seven in the afternoon.”

“Sounds lovely, Kaoru.” The two then sat together in comfortable silence. Hanayama might’ve just moved himself up on her list. His respect for her really warmed her heart up to him more.

Now the others needed to up their game.

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

Author’s note: thanks for reading!

19 notes · View notes

drowsystarlight · 1 year

Text

(Cough) I’m about to unleash ultimate brainrot so this is your only warning (Cough)

My favorite 5am dynamic is Really frustrated/worried operator Sam x Chaotic impulsive piece of shit Five and that they somehow work flawlessly with each other DESPITE countless bouts of:

“Runner Five—Five, you can’t go there. I don’t care if there’s more medpacks in there we have Enough” and Five finding a camera to squint and glare at before running towards the medpacks . Even if a horde is maybe two or three minutes away because They know they’ll make it in and out . And they only really listen to Sam if there’s really no other option but to take his options bc OTHERWISE they’re gonna use every second they can get

And then when Sam watches over another runner who actually does what he says, he’d be thinking “wow!! This is boring, isn’t it? Five has turned me into some thrill-seeking maniac!!” Despite all the close-call encounters even with that runner 😭😭

Another dynamic or idea I like is Sam understanding Five’s cues flawlessly because they’re so close?? Five would tap a song on the headset or hum it, and then Sam understands what the fuck they want or what they’re saying. They also have the same music taste so they can communicate with Song titles or Song lyrics . Like they’d be in a mission and the rhythmic taps on the headset come, then Sam just goes “Alright guys, that’s the signal to move along” “How do you know that??” “It’s the opening to the song Move Along by All American Rejects of course I know”

I read a fic where their Five whistles a song everyone knows the lyrics to so I got the idea from there, but my Five has niche favorite bands and maybe some unknown ones ?? My Five is selective mute so they could probably whisper-sing a song around someone they trust a lot (Sam, and eventually Maxine, and then gradually the Runners) but there’d be a time where Sam is the Only One who 100% understands everything because they apparently listened to the same bands . And those they didn’t, either Five tapped the tune or sang it to him . It’s so nice

My Five wasn’t mute before the Apocalypse so they wouldn’t know ASL, but they either use a notebook to write things to say or just portray it via Expression. So They and Sam would also make a cheat sheet together. Five glaring? Means fuck you/no/i disagree. Five giving a thumbs-up is self-explanatory. If Five looks at you once and then looks away and never does again, they are blatantly ignoring you . Sometimes they’d point to things and play some sort of charades .

I think that’s all . Good bye

#zombies run #sam yao #runner five #zr sam yao #5am #zr #neeks rambles about zr #just a bunch of fucking hijinks surrounding them #so funny #Sam will complain to Maxine and maybe other runners about how Five just does what they want #AND STILL MAKE IT OUT UNSCATHED #but then he also hoards being Five’s operator LOL #i love mute five so much im just (hand crunches in grief) cannot draw that well yet #i will learn i promise #JUST YOU WAIT

19 notes · View notes

4townie · 2 years

Text

Road to 4☆TOWN

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Robaire hummed a Whitney Houston song as he walked, trying to perfect all the notes and runs for the audition. He stopped in his tracks.

“Do I really need to be this much of a show off? I mean, I could probably still make it with “I Swear”…” He thought for a moment. “Nah, gotta prove I’m the best of the best. Nothing says boy band material like Whitney Houston.” He started to walk again when something caught his eye. Robaire backtracked, peeking down the alley he was walking by. There was a single shadow moving quickly along the wall. “What the…” He tiptoed across the gravel and peeked around the corner. In the back area was that basketball kid again, Aaron Zhao. He had his headphones on as per usual, but he was dancing like no one had ever danced before.

“Wow, you’re a really great dancer.”

Aaron shrieked and turned around. “What the heck, man?! You can’t just go sneaking up on people like that!”

“Dude, you’re dancing behind an alley.” Robaire narrowed his eyes. “It’s literally impossible not to sneak up on you.”

Aaron just stared quietly. His expression was unreadable.

“So what song were you just dancing to?” Robaire stepped a bit closer..

“That new Lauryn Hill song.” Aaron averted eye contact. “It was just on the radio so…”

“It’s pretty catchy. I hear my sister singing it all the time. Except she can’t sing…” Robaire rolled his eyes. “But it’s still got a pretty good beat. Strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words, k—”

“Killing me softly with his words, killing me softly with his words.” Aaron cut in.

Robaire’s jaw dropped.

“W-What?” Aaron blushed. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You can sing, too?!” Robaire practically screamed. “Why haven’t you joined the chorus?”

“It’s just a hobby, nothing serious. Besides, it’s not like I can do anything with it.” Aaron shrugged. “If I stick with sports, I can get a scholarship and go to college.”

Robaire’s eyes lit up, and there might as well have been a cartoon lightbulb over his head. “What if I told you there was a way singing could become more than a hobby?” He handed Aaron the flier he’d been carrying in his bag.

Aaron’s eyes scanned the paper. “And you think you’re actually gonna get picked?”

“I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?” Robaire shrugged. “It’s not everyday we get an opportunity like this, man. What’ve you got to lose?”

“Uh, my pride?” Aaron crossed his arms. “If the guys on the team found out about this, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“You’re being so dramatic, this isn’t some highschool musical or whatever.” Robaire rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Besides, if we make it, they’ll be the ones who never hear the end of it, cuz we’ll be on the radio!”

Aaron stared at the flier, and Robaire could see the gears turning in his head. “I dunno…maybe? But if anyone from school finds out about this, I’m denying everything.”

“Meh, I’ll take the fall.” Robaire shrugged. “If you really wanna do it, meet me by Ms. Soto’s flower cart a few hours before the auditions. We can go in together.”

“Why?” Aaron narrowed his eyes. “You can find it on your own, can’t you? We’re not friends or anything.”

“Maybe not yet, but we could become bandmates.” Robaire nudged him. He checked his watch and groaned. “Whatever, whatever. I’m late for my shift. I hope to see you tomorrow.” He waved and ran off.

Aaron looked at the flier then back at Robaire. He chuckled to himself. “I knew that guy was whack.”

#4town fanfic #4town headcanons #4town #4town taeyoung #4town jesse #4town aaron t #4town robaire #4town z #4townie #turning red #turning red 4town

23 notes · View notes

fauxserenity · 1 year

Text

“Loners and Fools - SatoSugu Bakery AU

It's too early for Suguru to be here. He's tired, having to get to work at 3am after spending all night studying for his modern history class. The air is cold, the late autumn making Suguru have another reason to curl in his bed with his fluffy blanket.

Inside the bakery is warm, Suguru can hear someone humming a song from behind the counter.

“Mornin',” Suguru says, changing from his coat to his apron.

“Good morning, Suguru~,” Satoru's cheery tone makes him wince a little.

Suguru can't understand how someone can have so much energy so early. In the two months he's worked with Satoru, that is something he hasn't understood yet.

Satoru is sorting things by the counter, there's something baking behind them and music low enough to not be disturbing.

Suguru goes to the coffee machine and makes himself a cup of coffee, the smell of it washes over the small place.

“How long have you been here?” Suguru asks after taking the first sip of his coffee.

“Mmm... An hour? I think,” Satoru smiles looking at him.

“That's way too early,” Suguru complains, hiding his face from those intriguing blue eyes that always seem to scan him.

“I guess, but I don't have anything else to do.”

“You could sleep, you know?.”

“Details,” Suguru's comment was dismissed by a small wave of a hand.

Their conversation ends there, they have to get to work, Suguru needs to decorate the cake he left last night in the refrigerator and everything that's baked and done has to be sorted into their places for the customers. There isn't a day that goes by without customers coming and leaving with a smile, Suguru is bad with names and faces but he always heard Satoru from his place behind the counter:

“Good morning Mrs. Fujihara, here's your usual lemon biscuits and a cup of coffee, not too hot but still warm enough.”

“Hello little gremlin, ready to go to school today? You should totally get that apple pie, it tastes amazing.”

Everyone loved Satoru and Suguru couldn't blame them, the guy always knew what others wanted to hear.

“Oi, Satoru, where's the flour?” Suguru shouts from where he's working, preparing a new mix of cookie dough.

“Which one?” comes back in the same tone, then a series of loud steps.

“For all purposes,” Suguru's attention goes back to the recipe.

He's measuring the sugar when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Thank—”

He doesn't finish the sentence, a cloud of flour covers his sight and he's only able to hear Satoru's crazy laugh.

So of course, he has to get revenge.

It takes place a few days later, the first customers are coming in, today they are greeted by a few kids on their way to school.

Satoru goes to the back, in search of something to give out to those kids. Suguru takes that opportunity.

“Do you think they'll like this?” he asks pointing out to something outside of their range, his other hand seemingly hanging next to him.

“What?” As Satoru walks closer, Suguru smiles and raises his hidden hand, flour flying everywhere.

Cackling, Suguru leaves the taller one alone and walks towards the counter, smiling at the kids and offering them a bag of cookies for each one of them.

“Have a nice day~,” he says as he smiles and waves goodbye.

“Bye-bye~, Mr. Geto.”

“I hate you,” Satoru says now next to him, face mostly clean.

“You love me.”

“Maybe.”

Geto might hate having to get up at 3am every day to go to work, he might have petty arguments with Satoru and get along with every kid in the neighborhood, but here is where he feels the safest.

Here, between bread and pastries... and Satoru.

#jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #satosugu #jjk suguru #jjk gojo #bakery au #feelings realization

8 notes · View notes

skyland2703 · 2 years

Text

Javi/Amelia Prison AU Headcanons

Ft. Me and @kara-night-light and a little bit inspired by The Angel~

Javi is in for something like petty theft. He stole some musical instruments. Max here for 3 months.

Amelia’s put in for Arson

Everyone thinks it’s swapped around and talk about Javi who is in for Arson and Amelia who stole some like girly things (Javi probably stole music shit) anyways they meet and exchange stories etc

Co-Ed Juvie; they’re like 16

They’re also bunk mates

And he’s always humming songs; And she gets annoyed like “DO YOU EVER TAKE A BREAK” but gradually starts to like them.

“What did you do?” “Oh nothing much I stole a few guitars, what about you?” “Arson.” *cue Javi palpitating*

Amelia has been in for awhile and pop pop always visits her

Javi just sits quietly after hearing arson, “Did.., did anyone die…?”

Javi could have gotten bailed by Warden Garcia but he chose to let Javi go to Juvie and never visits him and doesn’t let Izzy visit. He’s ashamed/wants Javi to “grow up” and thinks it would be a nice little trip for him.

Amelia starts bringing him along to visit pop pop and stuff

She’s mildly annoyed with him but likes his presence;

Pop pop is the one who notices it. Pop pop is like “you say you don’t like him yet he's always with you. 👀”

And Javi helps get Amelia on that right track and out of Juvie after he gets out

Javi’s term ends before Amelia’s. Petty theft would be around 3 months. But arson would probably send her in for 3 years

No but once Javi gets out he works with Pop pop because it turns out Amelia was covering for her ex-boyfriend (Ollie)

They work together to get Amelia out of Juvie and to help clear her record

He dumped her after she got into prison. And now she has to brave it through and the best idea was to broadcast what she Was supposedly in for

Pop pop only like suspects because he knows Amelia and knows she wouldn’t go that far but one day when Javi is out and visiting her Amelia admits it to him.

But secretly she’s scared of some of the people in there

Bonus if pop pop lets Javi stay with him after he gets out

Imagine Javi stealing some more shit to go to prison again just to be put back with her

Anyway, Zayto and Aiyon are the police officers who handled Amelia’s case, and Javi gets in touch with them

Izzy is Javi’s sister who isn’t allowed to see him but eventually moves in with him Pop-Pop and Amelia

Once Amelia gets out they’ll be moving in together XD (Sorry couldn’t resist not putting this in here)

Maybe Izzy starts meeting Javi in secret and helps him with the investigation

While Javi is working to get her out other inmates get word that Amelia isn’t as badass as she seems and they like to torment her. Prison violence is one of the biggest problems.

We’ll be adding more, but if anyone got more ideas, feel free to chip in bullets, either in the notes or reblogs~

#kara-night-light #power rangers #amelia jones #power rangers dino fury #dino fury #javi garcia #Javi x Amelia #Javi/Amelia #AU ideas #Headcanons #My headcanons #Jail AU #Prison AU #Javelia #Javelia Headcanons #this might be a fic one day

16 notes · View notes

santademikey · 2 years

Text

not meant to be - trikey

ft. soft trev because this is set in like 1990.

it was a cold day in ludendorff, even colder than usual considering the old town was never not covered in a thick blanket of snow.

a car zoomed along the frosty, slippery lane. music was blasting from it, along with the booming laughter of a man and his companion.

“and so, i said to the guard, “is that a gun in your pants or are you happy to see me?”” trevor cackled, while michael lifted a hand off the wheel to rid his eyes from tears of laughter.

“ah, it’s good to have ya back, t. a lot’s changed since you’ve been gone.” michael admitted, concentrating on the road ahead of him.

“it’s good to be back.” trevor said, “i never knew how much i missed shovelling snow outta my porch.”

“well, that’ll teach ya - never rob people you fuckin’ know. or they’ll id you, and you’ll be stuck in a cell going outta your goddamn mind.”

“i’ve learnt my lesson. or so my parole officer seems to think.” trevor chuckled, but in the four months that the young man had been imprisoned, he figured that maybe he shouldn’t have tried to rob the guy that helped him secure a loan to buy his truck.

silence fell upon the car, the only sounds being the queen song blaring from the stereo and the tires crunching over ice.

trevor, staring out of the window asked “so what’s changed then?”

“hm?” michael hummed.

“you said a lot’s changed since i got sent down. what?”

michael sighed, flustered. “ah, well. you know. amanda’s moved in with me. it’s uh… it’s going good.”

amanda. michael’s girlfriend. trevor had never liked her, his reasoning being that he thought she used his best friend for the money he had stashed away from various scores. but that wasn’t the only reason for the man’s distain.

“how good?” trevor questioned, scared to know the answer.

the truth was, he was deeply in love with michael. he had been from the moment they met at the airfield two years ago.

he’d never felt like this for anyone before, which scared him. he also felt a lot of shame about his feelings, and so hid them from everyone. including michael.

“he wouldn’t feel the same way. no one has ever loved me back before, so why would he?”

the silence returned. michael turned off the radio and briefly turned to the man he called his bestest friend.

“i’m marrying her, t.”

trevor’s heart sank to his stomach, before shattering like an icicle that had been thrown at the ground. his eyes burned with tears of sadness. anger.

“why? how could he do this? and to her? of all people?”

without thinking trevor grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked it in his direction.

“trevor!! what the fuck are you doing?” michael bellowed, desperately trying to gain control of the car, which was now spinning from the black ice beneath them.

the car eventually slid off the road and into a tree. coughing and wincing, the boys climbed out of the car. they approached each other.

“what the fuck was that, you prick!?” michael yelled, shoving trevor, who lost his footing and almost fell.

tears ran down t’s face. he looked to the ground, before finally gaining the courage to look at the man he secretly loved.

“i-i’m sorry, but-”

“don’t! you tryna kill me so i can’t be with anyone but you? you’ve hated amanda from the minute you set eyes on her! why? is it because you’re jealous of me? or maybe her? tell me, t - are you in love with me?” michael ranted, his face turning scarlet in anger.

michael’s words echoed around trevor’s head. without a word, he went and sat down on the tree they had managed to snap in two from smashing into it.

he hid his face in his hands, and violently shook as he sobbed.

“oh my god.”

calming down almost immediately, michael followed trevor and sat down next to him. he placed his hand on trev’s shoulder.

michael knew exactly how he felt. michael was in love with trevor, but he also loved amanda.

“look, trevor. i… we can’t… i love you.” he said softly, “but i love her too.”

trevor moved his hands away from his face and looked into michael’s eyes. he was always fascinated by how beautiful they were.

“it wouldn’t have worked out, anyway. would it? nothing ever works out for me.” his voice cracked in heartbreak, but still he smirked in sadness, knowing that him and michael were simply not meant to be.

michael looked away from him, tears daring to spill from his eyes.

after psyching himself up to stop crying and look at the man he loved oh so much, michael said “if things were different, maybe. i’m sorry, t.”

michael stood up and went to walk away before feeling himself be tugged back.

“can- can i kiss you? i… i can get over this, i can. but i need to feel your lips on mine before i let you go.”trevor rambled.

michael grabbed his hands and pulled him up. he placed his hand on trevor’s face and kissed him. he moved his hand back down to his side, and walked off, silently breaking his heart.

trevor sat back down on the tree, letting out a quiet, strangled yelp as he weeped.

#i cried writing this because ow #see this could’ve been written a lot better but it hurt me so it’ll do ig #trevor philips #michael de santa #trikey #gta v #grand theft auto #grand theft auto v #gta fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

perpetual-fool · 1 year

Text

So, I'm trying to figure out how to write a song. I'm putting off thinking about what I want to say, what I'm feeling, as that's going to seriously hurt. But working on the minutiae, I feel pretty okay.

Like, I was humming up and down my range in the hopes of being able to project in two full octaves. And while I pushed myself too hard and can't use my head voice at the moment, it feels good? I think? I feel some kind of way about only being comfortable with E2 yesterday but D2 today ('today' being yesterday). I'm not sure what I was feeling while I was doing it, but I did lose myself in it, so it's probably good? And even if my vocal range can only match that of an ocarina, that's not meaningless. I am a beginner, and writing something that restricted would give me something I can actually practice until my voice fills out. Or, I do actually have an ocarina, it would be nice to have something to play besides those tiny things from OoT. Or, I want to write stuff that's very approachable, restricted would work for non-singers as well. (Though since those are my ideas I feel like they're wrong and I'm a liar, and I'm a piece of shit for feeling slightly good about it. Hypothetically I'm working on that.) Or, right now I'm working on figuring out the 'meaning' of intervals, which I'm still not clear on. I'm trying to separate the elements and map out consonance/brightness/whatever, and hopefully I'll be able to make some kind of sense of it then.

But with these simple things, it's like there's nothing to be wrong about it. I'm just discovering and assembling new ideas. Is that how things are supposed to be? Or, is that how things should be but people don't want them to be? Like, surely figuring out what I think and what I like should work the same way.

How is it, hypothetically, I could like how something sounds, but then someone tells me it's wrong so I think it's wrong? Violence. Does it count as violence if someone doesn't physically strike me? Though that also happened. It's moreso that my emotional needs were emotionally punished. Ya' know, "I'll give you something to cry about" or whatever. And I had to believe it to protect myself. I was punished and bullied for being anything, so I became nothing. And I'm still doing that to a great extent. Like, a couple doctors ago I answered something honestly about my mental health, then they were supportive harassed me about it every subsequent visit, so I had to find someone new. The one after that, I think, demanded I answer about mental health to be seen at all. So now I just have to lie and play along with everything. I suppose if I were a healthy person it would just be lying, no big deal. But I'm not a healthy person. Every time I do that I have to bury all my feelings. Which is for good reason. If people get a hint of anything they'll take that as an opening. 'You're slightly agitated about what just happened? now I'll yell at you about it for ten minutes.' The only way to not show anything is to not feel anything.

And I suppose the same kind of thing applies to people pushing their beliefs on me. I was far too young to even know how that started. How would that work? "You're making excuses!" for instance. The most straightforward example was when I was forced to go out and paint the house, despite having a fever. So being demonstrably ill is not a valid reason to be excused from being forced to do things that don't make sense for no given reason. What would that have been like? "I don't feel good", "You're lying, fuck you you little piece of shit" (paraphrasing). So, I ask for accommodation, I get punished for asking instead. How would it have 'helped' for me to believe that I actually was lying? Because then I wouldn't ask for accommodation? No, that doesn't feel right. I had a more recent version of that, and it was like if I could just be the thing they're saying I am, then I could fix it, and then maybe they could love me. So it was the need for connection. And not just the crushing loneliness, but also the guilt and self-loathing of believing it was all my fault.

And aside, this seems to be the system everyone runs on. People don't say "I think things are this way because of this thing I've observed", they say "this is how it is". Or, if I say the former, they say the latter in response to 'disagree'. I'm tempted to start speculating on how that might explain what I did. I guess I was looking for not-that. Inappropriate 'acceptance' is just as threatening as an imposition that I'm lying or lazy or whatever. 'something something your parent's faith'. I knew it was all wrong but I didn't know what 'right' would be. So I just had to try everything, ultimately. It hurts more knowing that they were really trying. Like, I can just think my father is an asshole and get on with my (lack of a) life. But everyone else? No, not everyone else. I mean, that sucks too, but I can more or less move on. It's just her. Why? There can only be two reasons. She was the first person who actually nice to me, and I really trusted her. And I loved her. I can feel that it's the latter. But I greatly trusted others too, just not as much. I suppose further that would break down into the idea of love or the idea of her. Though again, I've loved other people too, just not as much. And I can feel that it's about her, really. God, it's like every little thing about her was enthralling. Even later, taking issue with the religious stuff, I'm sure she meant it. Even though I think any good that Christians do is just to sweeten the poison, I know there's a good person in there. I still believe in her.

But there's just nothing to connect to, 'cause I'm a fucking freak. Like, she told me once about trying out DADGAD tuning, only saying that it sounded neat. And I don't think I had the presence of mind to dig into that, but I don't think there would have been anything more to it. In contrast, I was investigating a possible tuning for seven-string guitar. Firstly, reason being that the less than perfect intonation of parallel frets bothers me enough that I can't stand playing regular guitar. But a multi-scale guitar with fanned frets, though not ideal, is close enough for my ear. And the easiest way to get a multi-scale is to buy a seven-string. But there's no standard tuning for seven. Standard six-string tuning is for chords. The top four strings in particular seem obviously arranged to more easily fret chords, using the same pattern as ukulele. And the bottom two strings, far as I can tell, are extra. I presume they're tuned the way they are to allow playing chords across all six strings, though that could be incidental. But that no longer just works when you add another string. There's a few different things people do with it, but the whole point of guitar is to play chords. So what makes the most sense to me is to repeat the pattern of the top strings on the lower strings, conveniently overlapping on the middle string: CFADGBE. And I call that 'witch tuning', as in 'as above so below'. Though now that I think of it, I'm not entirely sure that's actually a Wiccan thing. B'yeah, that's the kind of discussion I've never been able to have with anyone. Even to just explain, people take what I say to mean something else. And there's nothing I can do to convince them that they really don't understand.

I'm inclined to say that I'm sorry for what I am. But that's kind of the whole problem, isn't it?

I miss her. Love just isn't enough, ya' know?

- (https://youtu.be/98CQvMHDTOA) (https://youtu.be/FV7gw26T5V8)

0 notes

starboygrove · 2 years

Text

Surviving Eddie Munson - Chapter 22

Steve is sucking up the last of the balloon shreds with a shop vacuum, humming along to the song that is playing from the radio just inside Robin’s house. Eddie left a while ago to take all of the kids home, so he’s been utilizing the last minutes of waning sunlight to tidy up the yard. Robin and Nancy are inside and he tries not to creep on them, but he’s insanely curious about what went on between them earlier in the afternoon.

After the water balloon fight ended, everyone piled around the Buckley’s large television set and watched The Goonies to cool off from the summer heat. Soon enough, the afternoon melted into the evening, reigniting the festivities. They ordered pizza, made root beer floats, and lit a myriad of fireworks in the street before it was time for the younger teens to head out to meet up with their respective parents to go to the pyrotechnics show just outside of town.

Robin is transforming the table full of snacks from earlier into an arrangement of beer bottles and plastic cups while Nancy helps Steve with the garbage when Eddie gets back.

“Hey,” Steve greets, pulling him in for a chaste kiss on the patio.

“Ooooh, they kissin’!” Robin jeers sarcastically.

“Jealous, Buckley? Don’t be, there’s more than enough of me to go around!” Eddie replies haughtily, to which Steve mocks a sharp gasp. He places himself between Eddie and Robin, holding his arms out to his sides.

“I think not! He’s all mine, get your own curly haired brunet!”

Steve is expecting Robin to blush, or maybe attempt to shut him up so Nancy doesn’t hear, but she just snickers at the table where she is toying with the cups.

“Been there, done that.” She says in a boasting manner, beaming up at him.

“No…you didn’t…when? Where? What! How!?” Eddie is flabbergasted, laying his arms limply over Steve’s shoulders and peering around his head at her.

“You sound like a children’s rhetoric book,” Nancy jokes from the doorway, arms crossed over her chest with a very pleased look on her face.

“Hardy har har,” Eddie deadpans.

“I think you owe us an explanation,” Steve says demandingly, causing Robin to roll her eyes at him.

“He’s got a good point Rob. I have to admit, if he didn’t tell me you changed schools…” Nancy trails off with a small shrug.

“Steve, the world’s greatest wingman!” Robin praises, and he can’t help but laugh at that.

“It was when you guys were alone inside the house, wasn’t it?” Steve questions perceptively and gets two sheepish nods in response.

“Now we just have to pull Mike’s head out of his ass and we’ll have the complete set,” Nancy says snidely while striding over to the group to form a small circle on the patio.

“About that…” Eddie trails off, smirking smugly. “I saw them sneaking a kiss after the movie, in the hallway.”

There is a chorus of sharp gasps from the other young adults, Steve included, but suddenly the memory of Mike from earlier in the afternoon comes flooding back to him.

“Oh shit! He had said – what! But I didn’t think? Oh wow.”

“Pfft, use your words Harrington.”

He glares at Robin before running a hand through his hair. “He mentioned something to me about figuring it out earlier, but I didn’t realize he had meant more than just getting his thoughts together.”

“Wanna bet on how long they try to keep it a secret for?” Eddie asks, placing his hands on his hips in a pose of superiority. “I’m thinking two weeks, tops.”

He’s got his hips canted to one side, puffing his chest out slightly, and Steve openly stares at his boyfriend’s physique. Eddie catches him looking and gives him a smirk and a wink that causes his lower stomach to flip flop.

“I give it…a week,” Robin decides thoughtfully.

Nancy stifles a laugh behind her hand, countering with “I say by Monday at the latest is when they’ll crack.”

“That’s tough. They usually aren’t subtle at all, but I couldn’t tell a damn thing had changed today. Maybe now that they’re together, they will conspire more easily?” Steve suggests, garnering a pensive round of hums from the others.

Robin starts to get the hot tub ready while the others linger around. Eddie sits down on the patio steps to roll some joints, so Steve takes the opportunity to tug Nancy inside for a moment.

“Are you good?” He asks once they’re out of earshot, and Nancy gives him a puzzled expression.

“What? Of course!”

He breathes a sigh of relief, smiling widely. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. Don’t be mad, but you kinda looked like hot trash earlier.”

She gives him a sharp smack on the arm and he winces at the impact, hand flying up to rub the abused skin.

“I said don’t be mad!”

“I’m allowed to be mad,” she retorts challengingly. “But you’re probably right, I felt like hot trash. I never thought it would be so--”

“Intense?” He cuts off with a knowing smile.

“Yeah,” she huffs out. “I think maybe it’s because the stakes are higher?”

“Or is it because you’ve never felt like this for someone before?”

Nancy gives him a most peculiar look, and he almost thinks he has offended her before she turns to look outside with a tender smile. She bites her lip and nods, turning back to give Steve a quick hug.

“I think you might be right,” she says before dragging him back outside with her.

“Hey Nance, got an extra hair tie on you?” Eddie asks when they return. She obliges and slides one off of her wrist to loan to him.

Steve feels his mouth dry up when Eddie expertly pulls his hair up into a quick, messy bun on the top of his head. It’s doing a lot for him right now, just yet another thing he will have to examine later on his own time. For scientific purposes, of course.

He closes the French doors at the behest of Robin and they all climb into the hot tub, a round of pleased noises emitting from the group once they settle into the relaxing temperature.

They talk amongst themselves and before they know it, their cups are drained and Steve is sliding out of the tub to get refills for everyone. The warm night air feels chilly on his exposed skin, so he wastes no time getting back in.

“Babe, can you grab my lighter off the table please?” Eddie asks sweetly, pulling out his puppy dog eyes.

“Absolutely,” he replies, not minding one bit that he has to hop out just as soon as he got in again, because he just got called babe for the first time and his heart just might burst.

Although his back is turned, he can still hear Robin making a small noise, impersonating the sound of a whip cracking in the air, which elicits a giggle from Nancy.

“Pot, meet kettle,” he calls out sardonically.

“Hey!” Robin cries out in defense.

When he descends into the tub for good this time, he takes a long, satisfying drink from his cup and rests his arm on the ledge behind Eddie. His boyfriend settles into his side, plucking the zippo from his fingers with a ‘thank you.’ He procures a joint from its hiding spot tucked behind his ear and quickly lights it.

“I gotta say,” he starts, pausing to blow out the smoke from his lungs into the night sky. “If someone told me I’d be smokin’ dope with Nancy Wheeler a year ago, I’d of thought they’re nuts.”

They all chuckle in agreement, not oblivious to the fact that they’re a bit of an odd group of people.

“The stranger thing is you dating Steve, I think.” She responds with a quirk of her brow, reaching over to take the joint from Eddie.

“Hmm, I’m inclined to disagree, but I might be a little biased,” he retorts, turning to give Steve a loving smile.

“You guys are disgustingly cute, please stop before my poor little heart can’t take it anymore,” Robin cries jokingly.

“Never,” Steve retorts with a satisfied expression.

When Nancy offers Robin the joint, she pulls a pained expression. Steve recalls that she’s never smoked weed before, but has on several occasions voiced her interest in doing so.

“First time?” Eddie questions excitedly, to which Robin nods glumly.

“The only time I’ve ever smoked something was one hit off a cigarette and I almost choked to death.”

“Hmm,” his boyfriend hums in consideration. “Aha! What about shot-gunning?”

The others stare at him blankly in response. Steve thinks he’s maybe heard of the term before, but isn’t so sure about it.

“What does sitting in the passenger seat of a car have anything to do with this?”

Eddie laughs sharply at the comment, and yet again Steve is humbled by the other man’s uncanny ability to find amusement in others without it feeling like he’s making fun of them.

“No,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I think a visual presentation is in order.”

He gently pinches the joint between his fingers and takes a long drag before turning to Steve, grabbing his chin roughly and tugging him forward to lock their mouths together. Steve understands straight away and opens his mouth, inhaling with Eddie’s exhale. This is a far superior method to smoking, he thinks, the added intimacy making his head spin faster than it normally would with the rush of the drug.

Steve pulls away in a daze, a dopey smile sliding over his features. Eddie returns a wide grin at him before giving him a kiss on the tip of his nose, passing the joint back to Nancy.

With a determined expression, Nancy copies Eddie’s display, tenderly holding the other woman’s face as they pass the smoke between their lips. Steve’s heart melts at the sight, feeling elated that his friends have found happiness within one another.

Robin’s face contorts when they part before breaking out a small coughing fit, face buried into the crook of her arm. She has tears in her eyes by the time she can regain control of her breath, Nancy patting her back in comfort.

“Ooof…I dunno if that’s for me you guys,” she says with a wince. “Damn asthma.”

“Typically you’d get used to it, but yeah probably not a habit to pick up if you already have a hard time breathing,” Eddie says respectably.

They pass the joint around between just the three of them until it’s out, and Steve is feeling delightfully buzzed and tingly from the combination of weed and alcohol. He’s glad they decided to stick to beer because he’s feeling a lot more affected than he would with just the drink alone.

The festivities carry on, distant sounds of fireworks being lit sporadically lasting well into the night. At some point they transition between the hot tub to indoors, tipsy from their beverages. Nancy insists that they take more photos, passing the camera around so everyone has a chance to cement their artistic flair into a physical memory.

“Alright, I don’t know about you all, but my skin is so itchy from that chlorine. I’m gonna go take a shower,” Robin yawns from her spot leaning up against the kitchen counter. “And, probably go to sleep too actually,” she adds with a sheepish chuckle.

“Honestly I wasn’t feeling it, but now that you’ve said something…” Steve trails off, rubbing at his arms.

They bid their goodnights and the ladies ascend the stairs up to Robin’s room, Steve making an immediate beeline for the bathroom.

“Think I could join?” Eddie asks from behind, leaning up against the doorframe with a wicked smile.

Steve gapes at him lamely, flushing at the mere thought. “For real?” He asks doubtfully, unable to parse whether or not the other man is just joking around.

“I mean…yeah? If you don’t want to, you can say no,” he replies with a pout. Steve merely yanks him into the bathroom and closes the door gently.

“How could I say no?” He asks rhetorically before fiddling with the unfamiliar hardware, letting out a small cheer of success when he figures how to get the hot water to turn on.

Steadying his breath, he begins to pull his swim trunks down to get in the shower. Realistically, he should not be this nervous undressing around another man; he’s done this countless times before in locker rooms, but he knows deep down that it is different.

“You’re going to be the end of me, Harrington.” The noise of appreciation that Eddie gives him sparks a delectable heat in his lower stomach.

In his past experiences, he would do everything in his power to not look at a teammate or peer below the chest. This is Eddie, though, his boyfriend. Steve knows he wants him to look, and so he does. He takes in the other man’s form, eyes floating over the vast expanse of skin exposed to him, littered with tattoos and a light dusting of hair. There is a sharp intake of breath when he sees his boyfriend is already getting hard. Just from looking at Steve. The feeling is decidedly mutual.

He steps into the tub and gets under the warm spray, Eddie practically jumping in after him and pulling him into a scorching hot kiss. Steve reaches up to dig his hands into Eddie’s hair, but its still in that blasted bun, so he tugs at the tie to let it down. He’s rough enough about it that Eddie groans and moves to pull back with the motion, so Steve bites his lower lip on instinct to keep him in place.

“Fucking hell,” Eddie mumbles into his mouth, slamming their bodies together and pushing Steve against the wall of the shower with a thump.

The hot, slick contact of their skin sets Steve’s nerves aflame. He’s never, ever once in his life felt this turned on just from kissing someone. They move against one another, panting when they pull away for air, and Eddie doesn’t let a second go by before peppering kisses down the column of Steve’s neck.

The other man’s hands are all over his body, like he has to touch every inch of skin he can or else he’ll die. He grips Eddie’s hair tight when he starts biting his neck, keening softly and jerking their hips together. At first contact, Steve’s head tips back forcefully against the wall; he hisses in pleasure at the silky slide of their cocks, arching his back in delight.

“Eddie,” he whimpers when the other man locks his hand around their members and squeezes. He starts to jerk them off simultaneously in a deadly tight grip and Steve’s hips start to rock with the motion.

Untangling his hands from Eddie’s hair, he runs them down his back, digging in with his nails. The other man’s free hand flies up to cover his mouth, muffling the loud moan that escapes him just in time.

“Yeah, you fucking like that, don’t you?” Steve’s voice is thick and low, steeped in lust, with a hint of desperation. He’s painfully hard and at this point would be genuinely surprised if he lasts for another ten seconds.

“Yeah, I really fucking do,” Eddie replies gruffly before pulling him in for another kiss. Their movements grow more frenzied, and a familiar warm build up spreads throughout his groin.

Steve whines into Eddie’s mouth, dragging his lips across the other man’s cheek to whisper frantically into his ear, “I’m so close.”

That seems to push his boyfriend over the edge, and not unlike the fireworks outside, he’s exploding with pleasure. Steve manages to crack his eyes open to watch their cocks as they orgasm together, hot white cum spurting out and covering Eddie’s hand.

They slump against the wall together, lukewarm water washing over their bodies while they pant heavily from the exertion. Steve fumbles blindly, eyes closed in bliss, and turns the shower off.

“That was…” he trails off, running his hands through his hair to slick it back off of his face.

“Incredible? Mind blowing? Devastatingly hot?” Eddie offers with a wry grin.

“The most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced,” Steve admits.

Eddie simply stares with wide eyes and blown pupils before shaking his head minutely and drawing him in for a tender kiss.

“So much for taking it slow, huh?” He jokes while toweling his hair off.

“Oh, Harrington, that was taking is slow. I’ll have to introduce you to my collection sometime soon.”

“Collection…of what?” He questions, instantaneously curious.

Eddie laughs, standing behind him and pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around Steve’s torso and shoots him a devilish smirk though the mirror.

“Have you ever heard of something called S&M?”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #eddie x steve #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #cross posted on ao3 #stranger things smut #steddie smut #steddie fluff

0 notes

rafescoke · 3 years

Text

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: The second one I was hoping could be a Rafe x reader based on the song why’d you only call me when you’re high by arctic monkeys. Maybe something along the lines of rafe only calling and giving the reader attention when he wants to hook up. Finally, the reader gets tired of it their feelings known.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself thinking about a certain boy more than what they had agreed on

Warnings: Hella angst, mentions of sex, masterbating, substance, cursing, toxic relationship

A/N: I’ve been updating a new fic every single day and the amount of love you guys are returning is beyond amazing. I love you so much, thank you for all of your kind words <3

p.s, again, my request box is always open. drop in any ideas and i’ll present to you my best :)

p.p.s, does anyone know why i can’t tag some users? im going crazy.

“I was thinking. . .” Rafe trailed, drawing invisible circles against her soft skin. She hummed in response, her eyes closed, feeling so relaxed under the silk bedsheet wrapping around her body.

“We should do this often.”

“Is twice a day isn’t enough for you?” she asked, hiding her smile. She felt him shift, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her close against him. She giggled lightly, feeling him behind her, but she was too tired to do anything.

“We should try doing it every minute,” he simply replied, smelling into her scent. She smelt like vanilla and caramel, just the way he likes it. “Is this the perfume I bought?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, feeling so peaceful she could sleep if he hadn’t pulled her closer against his hardening member. She groaned, trying to scoot forward by an inch, but was stopped by his fingers gripping her hips.

“I’m sore.”

“I know,” he replied casually, still brushing against her bottom. Before he could do anything else she turned, now facing him. She looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes and his soft lips. Her thumb grazed over his top lip, and Rafe swore he could fuck her anytime soon if she kept doing that.

“Are you not tired?” she asked, now cupping his face. He stared into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them before giving her a smile.

“No.”

“You’re mental,” she sighed, but she failed to contain her laugh after. She giggled, still cupping his face, and she has never felt so calm and relax before. Just them two, on top of a bed in some cheap motel, sometimes hearing the couple staying on top of them screaming at each other.

“Are you?” he continued, tilting his head into her hands. She smiled when he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating from her. He loves it. He feels at peace.

(Y/N) sighed, loving yet also hating these kind of moments where she knew they would be acting like strangers after, in front of everyone else. She remembered the exact day after she had had sex with him for the first time, and how he acted so cold afterwards.

“Hey,” (Y/N) smiled, standing beside his form as he squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight to inspect his goal. He didn’t reply, swinging his golf club upwards and hit the golf ball. (Y/N) watched as it flew and landed near the goal, and expressed a smile.

“You’re good.”

“Huh?” he looked up to her, as if just noticed her existence. (Y/N) felt a pang of hurt across her heart, especially when he had just whispered so many love words into her ear the night before.

“I said you’re good.”

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered, already making his way back to where his friends were. Clearly not satisfied, she followed him suit, watching as his friends cheered for him. Rafe groaned even harder, and turned to look at her before they got too close to his friends.

“What are you fucking doing here?” he scolded, his eyes staring at a space beside her. (Y/N) raised a brow, being caught off guard, but she tried to play it cool.

“I’m a member of this country club too, Rafe,” she replied, scoffing. “You’re an asshole, do you know that? Are we not going to talk about last ni-”

“Shut up,” he grunted, looking backwards to check on his friends before pulling her a few distance away. “Look, I was on drugs last night. That was not me. Let it go, okay?”

(Y/N) has never experienced that kind of disrespect, and she swore she hated Rafe Cameron so bad that when she got home, she cried against her pillows until the night sky greeted her.

She thought about the many other guys who tried to be with her, but she had pushed them all away for a certain rich boy living 6 houses away from her. The fact that her parents are good friends with Ward and Rose Cameron doesn’t make it any easier, not when she is forced to see him every single Saturday night for ‘barbecue night’.

“What are you thinking?” he suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts. She sighed, suddenly scooting away from him. He watched as she turned away, but he didn’t put much thoughts into it.

“I can still smell the weed from you,” she suddenly said, and Rafe let out a laugh. He rubbed his eyes, hating the fact that they are going to repeat the same topic they have fought countless of times before, especially after sex and they had both came down from the high.

“Don’t start, (Y/N), fuck,” he sighed, covering his face with his large hands. He watched as she scooted further, wrapping the covers around her body. “Can you please just lay right next to me?”

“I want to sleep,” she replied, and bit her lips before she could express any tears. Rafe sighed, groaning, and sat up straight, resting on the edge of the bed before reaching for his jeans discarded on the corner of the room.

“I’m leaving,” he said, and (Y/N) heard the metal bar of his belt clanking against his jeans button. “Since you wanna act like a bitch again.”

“You’re an asshole,” she replied, still not looking at him. A tear rolled down her cheeks before she could stop herself, and she quickly wiped them away.

“Whatever,” he said, and she heard the door slammed shut. She cursed, unable to stop her tears now that she was alone. The banter between the husband and wife from the room above filled the silence as (Y/N) sobbed against the pillow and she thought about how it resembled her and Rafe’s relationship so much.

He would call her when he’s under the influence, whispering sweet-nothings through the phone, saying how much he’s missing her and longing for her forehead kisses. The fight they had before the phone call will immediately evaporate into thin air, and (Y/N) will make her way to wherever Rafe is. Sometimes they’ll do it in the car in a secluded alley or sometimes in the cheap motel at Chapel Hill.

But then it was the moments after their brief meeting that had her all moody and depress throughout the week; how he would ignore her, pretending not to see her and forcing himself to say ‘hi’ during their family barbecue.

(Y/N) never thought of herself as someone who’s prone to being in a sneaky relationship, but if that what it takes to be with Rafe Cameron, she was willing to be in one.

It had been a week since the incidence, and Rafe hadn’t call her to meet or anything of the sort. (Y/N) frowned when she thought of this, because the longest fight they had before only lasted for 2 days before he rang her up, asking to meet up.

(Y/N) shook her head, sipping on her martini before setting it on the side of the swimming pool. She dived into the water, trying to get the heat from the scorching sun off of her, and resurfaced seconds after, her wet hair falling down her shoulders.

“(Y/N), where’s dad?” Topper appeared, squatting in front of her as she took another sip on the martini. Her eyes fell to the figure behind her brother, and she almost choked on the liquid.

“Um, I don’t know,” (Y/N) replied, staring at Rafe Cameron as he took out his phone to check on his messages, ignoring her like always. She rolled her eyes at this, knowing that there were no new texts and he was just trying to act like she wasn’t there. She dived into the water again and swam to the other side, away from Rafe and his negative energy.

If Rafe knew she was going to be in the swimming pool, he would have made an excuse to Topper, perhaps saying how he has to take Wheezie to the clinic for an appointment. (Y/N) was almost never home every time he hang out with Topper, so he thought he was safe. But there she was; in the most tempting bikini, swimming and constantly sipping on a martini.

Rafe sat right next to Topper, watching her back from the corners of his eyes as she gazed at the view in front of her. She was laying on her arms, lazily humming to a rock song Rafe plays every time he’s driving.

He jolted when Topper touched his hand.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Topper laughed, “I said, do you wanna eat?”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and thinking about good she looked in that bikini. He made a mental note to guess the brand to purchase more of that sort for her.

“Okay, I’m going in to get myself some food. Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Topper asked, sitting on the edge of the seat. Rafe nodded, his eyes still closed, and heard him walking towards the sliding door into the kitchen.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

Rafe opened his eyes, and to his satisfaction, the girl with the (H/C) locks stared at him with her face rested against her arms. His breath hitched, seeing how beautiful she was with the chlorine water dripping from her face, down to her neck, continuing to her che-

“God, you’re a fucking asshole,” she suddenly said, and Rafe had to shook his head from the involuntary thought that appeared in his mind. He groaned, watching as she dived in the water again, and almost catching a glimpse of her bottom. He smiled.

“Are you still a bitch?” he asked when she resurfaced, crossing his arms. “Because if you are, I don’t feel like fucking you right here and right now.”

(Y/N) halted her movements as she tried her best not to look at the smirking boy, and instead staring into the swimming pool as if there was something interesting in it. Rafe laughed, knowing exactly the impact of his words towards her, and thought about wanting to have a little more fun with her.

“I’m asking, baby,” he said softly, and her eyes landed on his. “Are you still a bitch?”

“I brought cookies!” Topper suddenly yelled, appearing from the sliding door and walking towards them with a bright smile. Rafe cursed, laying his back against the seat again and pretending to close his eyes while (Y/N) dived underwater, trying to hide her red face. He was glad when Topper handed him a cookie, talking about wanting to surf tomorrow - so oblivious towards the sexual tension between him and his own twin.

“What do you think?” Topper asked, munching on the cookies all the while trying to see Rafe’s reaction. Rafe nodded, muttering his agreement, but under his sunglasses, he was watching (Y/N) and she too, was watching him.

“Can I have a cookie, Tops?” (Y/N) suddenly interrupted, and without looking at her, Topper gave her a thumbs up sign. (Y/N) smiled, pulling herself up from the pool and Rafe almost had a heart attack from the sight of her curves donning the bikini and the water dripping off of her.

She walked towards them, hair swept to her left shoulder, and Rafe’s gaze followed her fingers as she grabbed a cookie and immediately putting it in her mouth. He watched as she closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet taste, all the while sitting under the glowing sun that highlighted her features even more.

He could feel himself getting harder.

“Well,” (Y/N) suddenly said, and Rafe had realized he was too busy looking at her to realize that she was already conversing with Topper. “I’ll go. Is Rafe coming too?”

Both of the siblings’ attention fell towards him, and Rafe found himself clearing his throat before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, where are we?”

“Man, are you sure you’re okay?” Topper asked, removing his sunglasses to look at him clearly. “Do you need water?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Rafe quickly added, “Can I, um, go up to your room? I think I need a nap.”

“Yeah, okay,” Topper replied, not thinking much of it. They had been spending so much time under the sun during the summer, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them got sick. “I’ll go upstairs in a second.”

He muttered a thanks, quickly making his way to the top of the house, where Topper stayed. He groaned, feeling himself getting harder, and hating the fact that she was most probably liking the way he was reacting.

He locked the door of the bathroom he has been using since the first day he became friends with Topper, watching himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes while he tried to picture her in his mind, his fingers trying their best to untie the knot of the band of his swimming shorts.

He held himself in the palm of his hands as he pictured her again, this time with her under him. He started sliding his palm over his hardened member, his other hand safely placed on the sink for balance. He thought of the way she’ll bounce on him when she rides him, and bit his lips before he could let out any sounds.

Fuck.

He hated how easy she’ll make him hard and how she has him wrapped around her finger. It was true how they would only do the unholy thing when he was under the influence or they were both under the influence, but he couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling in his stomach every time he saw her.

“Fuck,” he expressed, his grip on the sink tightening. His movements became faster as he tried to picture her mouth and around him, and felt his end coming. He left a string of curses as he finally released himself, watching the shot dripping off the sides of the sink. He grunted, having to do more work, and grabbed himself the white tissues before wiping his mess.

. . .

“Hey.”

“Hey, Rafe,” (Y/N) said, trying to maintain her normal tone. She bit her lips at the sound of his heavy breathing, missing his voice and also his handsome face. She longed to have his face in her hands again, staring at each other’s eyes and kissing each other’s lips right after.

“Can you come over?” he asked, his voice slurring. “No, I mean, can I pick you up?” The sound of laughter and booming music could be heard behind him, giving out his location. (Y/N) sighed, knowing the exact request behind the words, and looked at her wall to check on the time.

“It’s 12 a.m., my mom won’t allow me to go out.”

“Sneak out, then,” Rafe replied, and he said something to his friends before focusing back on her. “Please? I missed you.”

(Y/N) sighed, knowing exactly her problem.

This.

“Okay,” she replied, leaning over her mattress to close her laptop now that she had new plans for the night. “What time are you picking me up?”

“I can’t drive right now,” he said, suddenly realizing how sloshed he was. “Can you come and pick me up, please?”

She sighed again, but she had missed him so much. Him and his touches. His and his words.

Him.

“Okay, send me your location, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

(Y/N) thought about how she couldn’t do it anymore. Not when she has spent most of her life trying to make him love her. He had been friends with her brother since forever, but yet he never seemed to settle on her. She heard about the amount of girls he dated and how she tried to become like them, but after a while, she grew bored of it. She was tired of running after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

Until the night at the party, where they had been smoking and doing coke and god knows what else. (Y/N) had watched him from the corners of her eyes, liking how attractive he looked under the party lights. He was in a black shirt, his hair messily parted, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips.

“Thornton, do you know how perfect your smile is?” he asked, leaning towards her. (Y/N) giggled, her back against the wall as she stared into his eyes.

“You’re mistaking me for my brother, Rafe?” she asked, with that smile again. Rafe licked his lips, looking down to hers before leaning closer to whisper into her ear.

“I’ve got to confess, (Y/N),” he whispered, sending shivers down to her spine. “You’re the hottest sibling.”

When she woke up the next day, laying right next to Rafe Cameron, she had to pinch herself a few times to make sure that she was living in reality, but when she tried to approach him that evening on the golf course, it was like nothing happened that night.

It scarred her until he rang her up again, six days after.

“Rafe,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning over to open the passenger’s door from her seat, seeing how drunk he was. Rafe giggled, getting himself in before shutting the door and staring at her. He leaned towards her and placed a sloppy kiss against her cheeks, down to her neck and stopped directly before her chest.

“Just park in the back,” he ordered, placing his palm on the upper side of her thigh, too close to her heat. She bit her lips as she turned her steering wheel, entering the back alley of the club. Soon after he had texted her his location, she sneaked out through her brother’s porch and stole his car, driving straight towards Rafe.

She turned the ignition off and looked at him, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, groaning when he missed one button. He tried to reach for her, but she pushed his hand away, her face expressing into anger.

“Don’t pull this shit again, fuck,” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back against the seat and covering his face with his hands. (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a gold ring, and noticed how it looked so similar to hers hanging around her neck.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, filling the silence. Rafe let out a shrill laugh, still closing his eyes.

“Still a bitch, I guess.”

“This is the problem, Rafe!” she groaned, causing Rafe to look at her fully in the face when he noticed her increasing volume. “What are we?”

“What do you want to hear?” he simply said, staring at her with empty eyes. He licked his lips, “No, seriously. Tell me the answer, and I’ll say it.”

How cold could he be?

“Rafe, do you see how you’re treating me?” she asked, and she could feel her tears threatening to fall. “Do you realize the difference between sober Rafe and intoxicated Rafe?”

Of course he knew. He just chose to ignore it.

“I can’t do this right now,” Rafe said, putting his hands up in defeat. “Can we just fuck, get over whatever fight we’re having right now, and live our best lives the next day? Can we do that?”

He turned to look at her, and noticed her glassy eyes. He sighed, trying to cup her face, but she flinched at his touch.

“You make me feel like a whore,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “One second you love me, the next second you’re spitting on me.”

He just had the worst night of his life; having a fight with Ward about his business, bumping onto the pogues, catching Sarah and John B. . . and now this?

“You think too much,” he said, but his heartbeat was quickening. He stole a glance at her and watched as she stared at him with empty eyes. “I’m sober now. You know what, (Y/N)? You’re right. I can’t even look at you when I’m not under the influence.”

He turned to open the door, getting out while buttoning his shirt back, not wanting to look at her. He couldn’t stand it, he knew he’ll be too broken if he sees her cry over him. He didn’t know what to do; he panicked, never preparing for this exact moment where he knew she will ask about the state of their relationship.

He watched as she sped away from the alley, her engine roaring against the silence of that particular Friday night, where his day had been nothing but miserable. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to contain his feelings, but before he knew it, he had kicked on the empty beer can on the side of the road, watching its movement as it hit the opposite wall and fell into the trash can.

He laughed at the strange occurrence, his tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and made his way back to the club.

If there’s one thing he’s so sure about himself; Rafe Cameron hates himself more than anyone else in the world.

add yourself to the taglist!

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleep @im19yearsold @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @drewstarkeyluver @unfortunatekiwitrash @Mellifluouszayn @hhishho @hvrcruxes @scottybitch @asimpwriter @starxqt @Amaya124 @Made212 @adriee16 @eggirl @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @beyatch012 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @noonesafe726 @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @anaisaxsalva @dangerdolns @obxlovelys @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @topshaggerwillne @gabiatthedisco @ms187 @Louisandthestyles @outcrbcnks @yandere-marvel @fairyobrien @luvmybbies @sapnapsbandana @sarahwasfound @kaitieskidmore1 @dirtytissuebox @a-bolanos @bebeos @l1brawh0re @cherrymedicine13 @daisybri7

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron smuts #rafe x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks x reader #outer banks

641 notes · View notes

tobesolonely · 3 years

Text

grammy night

A/n: like most of you, watching harry perform WS did something to me. i rushed to my computer to write this IMMEDIATELY... not proofread but i hope u all enjoy nonetheless! Thanks @nationalharryleague for looking this over and hyping me up.

summary: y/n wants to show her grammy winning boyfriend just how proud she is of him💕

warnings: smut, mentions of the pandemic!

word count: ~3k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You decided that “Harry Styles, Grammy-nominated artist!” had a lovely ring to it.

Harry knew how proud you were of him; you had been making it known to him in the days leading up to his big night. You fretted over him more than you usually did, showered him in an obnoxious amount of compliments, and were the most intimate you’d ever been with him–– but who was he to complain?

Obviously, he knew you could care less whether he won or lost, and quite frankly, he didn’t care either. Just being able to perform at the Grammy’s, much less open it, was the opportunity of a lifetime. The fact that he was hitting such a big professional milestone with you by his side just made it that much better. You were both buzzing.

It had been months since Harry had performed. You knew how much he missed being in front of a live audience and hearing people scream his name, conceited as he was. He had been spending so much time rehearsing the one song he was performing, wanting it to be absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend was a perfectionist, after all! If he was going to do something, he either did it one hundred and ten percent, or he didn’t do it at all.

Although you were used to your boyfriend’s pre-performance jitters, it still wasn’t an easy sight to see. He would pace so much that beads of sweat would collect in his hairline; he’d shake, tremble, and have to be reminded to breathe. You’d think after ten years of doing this he would be a pro, but he was only human, after all.

“Been so long since I performed in front of people,” Harry muttered to you, examining his reflection in his make-shift dressing room. “‘M nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” you reply, coming up behind him to rub his shoulders. He shoots you a look in the mirror. “I know it’s easier said than done but you have nothing to worry about. It’s “Watermelon Sugar” honey–– you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve performed this one dozens of times.”

“Things are jus’ so different now,” his voice drops an octave. “What if people are tired of the song?”

“I don’t think people are tired of the song.”

“It played on the radio a lot. Came out in 2019––”

“...And you’ve been busy with other things. No one’s gonna be upset that you haven’t released new music in the middle of a pandemic H, I promise you.”

Harry’s gaze meets yours again in the mirror briefly before he tilts his head back, silently asking for a kiss. You plant one on his lips before grabbing a tissue from a small table beside him, dabbing at his hairline.

“Stop sweating everything off, Harry,” you playfully scold your boyfriend. “Make-up artist has already been by to touch you up three times already, she’s probably running out of product.”

Your boyfriend lightly chuckles at this, causing you to smile. “I’ll just tell my body to cut it out. How’s tha’ sound?”

“Sounds good,” you reply, leaning down to kiss his nose. “You alright?”

You notice Harry deeply inhale. “I think so. How do I look?”

“Like a Grammy-nominated, soon-to-be Grammy-winning, artist.”

Harry’s skin flushes. “Stop it…” The sound of three short knocks on the door of his dressing room causes panic to flood his features.

“Hey, look at me,” you gently grab your boyfriend’s chin, turning his gaze up towards yours. “It’s my job to believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself. If you get nervous just know I’ll be sitting as close to the stage as they’ll let me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now, go make me proud.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Breathe me in, breathe me out…”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought Harry’s nerves in his dressing room were all theatrics. He was so in his element on stage, you were one hundred percent sure no one knew he was so nervous twenty minutes prior that he was turning green. He kept looking out into the small crowd, searching for you, and flashing you a dimpled grin once he did.

You were enjoying watching him prance around the stage while trying to keep up with the band on stage, looking a bit too proud of himself when he was able to stay on the beat while rhythmically snapping his hips along to the song. As the song came to an end and the dimmed lights started coming back on, you were led back to Harry’s dressing room by one of his guards as you heard the next performer being introduced.

“How did I do?” Harry asks loudly, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

His voice causes you to jump. “You scared the shit out of me! How’d you get off stage so quickly?”

Harry grabs your arm and pulls you off the couch, wrapping you in a tight, sweaty hug. “Don’t know. I basically ran to ya.”

“You did incredibly,” you tell him, lips ghosting over his. “Just like I knew you would. I don’t wanna say you were nervous for nothing, but you kinda were.”

“Don’t wanna hear your teasin’.”

“Did you see how everyone was looking at you?”

“I only saw how you were lookin’ at me. I was only lookin’ at you.”

Your body heats up at Harry’s admission, causing you to look away. “You’re so cheesy, H.”

“I think I would’ve been about fifty times more nervous if you weren’t here with me,” he presses his nose against yours. “Thank you for bein’ here, Y/N. You make this whole thing so much more doable.” Harry places one… two… three wet kisses to your cheek before pulling away, walking back over to close the door he left open during his excitement to re-join you.

“Changing?”

“Yeah,” Harry turns to look at you as he pulls off his jacket. The sight of his bare chest causes you to thickly swallow. “‘M gonna put what I was wearin’ on the red carpet back on. We’re gonna move outside.”

You simply hum in response to what Harry said, sitting back on the couch to scroll through your phone as you wait for him to finish changing. Everyone was congratulating Harry on his performance and wishing him luck on his nominations. You read all the good luck texts for him that were sent to you out loud, watching as his smile grows bigger and bigger from all the love he was being showered in.

After helping Harry powder his T-zone you let him lead you out of the small room and out into an area with spaced-out circular tables, most of them with just two or three seats at them. The Grammy’s in the middle of a pandemic was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and you were pleasantly surprised at how smoothly things were running. Jeff is already sat at the table when you and Harry join him and you can visibly see him let out the breath he was holding.

“Your boyfriend ran off stage so quickly I thought I was gonna have to set up a search party to find him,” Jeff tells you, a slight hint of annoyance present in his voice. He then turns to Harry and says, “Fix your mask, please.”

“It is fixed,” Harry grumbles but adjusts it nonetheless, causing you to giggle.

Even though it was obvious your boyfriend was enjoying himself, you could still tell he was extremely nervous the closer it became to announcing the winner of the category he was nominated in. His grip on your thigh kept growing tighter and tighter and although you didn’t hate it, you worried he might cut off your circulation soon if he didn’t let go of you soon.

“H, take a deep breath,” you lean over to whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna make my thigh fall off.”

“Sorry, love,” if you could see his mouth under his mask, you’d see him biting his plump lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my fuckin’ life.”

“Never?”

“Have I?”

“I dunno. I’m asking you.”

You see Harry’s eyes crinkle. “Maybe when I asked you out for the first time.”

“You are seriously so cheesy.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just takes your hand in his and directs his attention back to the stage. His palm is sweaty in yours but you don’t release his grip on your hand, wanting to offer him as much comfort as you possibly could.

When they start naming the nominees for Best Pop Solo Performance, you literally have to remind Harry to control his breathing. Although he won’t be upset if he doesn’t win, you know it would still mean quite a bit to him if he did.

“And the winner for Best Pop Solo Performance is… Harry Styles!”

Your mouth falls open in shock as you turn to fully face your boyfriend who was looking down at your intertwined hands, eyes wide in surprise. He genuinely wasn’t expecting to win and that made this victory that much sweeter.

“Harry!” You yell to be heard above the cheers and applause of his colleagues in the crowd. Jeff stands and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him out of his seat and into a tight hug. You stand up and clap loudly in admiration for your boyfriend, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. He removes himself from Jeff and pulls you into him, your head pressed against his chest.

“I won a fuckin’ Grammy!” Harry shouts.

“I know!” You shout back, probably more excited than he was. “Get up there!”

Your boyfriend quickly removes his mask and hands it to you before hurrying to the makeshift stage, hugging the presenter before touching his Grammy in awe. He picks it up and then slowly sets it back down, shaking his head in disbelief.

“To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much…”

You can’t stop the few tears that spill over your waterline–– you were so unbelievably proud of him. You’re not even paying attention to his acceptance speech as you’re too preoccupied with looking at everyone staring at your boyfriend in admiration.

“Lastly, I want to thank my girlfriend who’s sitting right there next to my manager, Jeffrey. She’s my number one fan, always believes in me when I don’t believe in myself,” he looks down at his shoes bashfully. “Wouldn’t be half the man I am today if it weren’t for her. This is our Grammy, love.”

You blow kisses to your boyfriend, ignoring the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you. As far as you were concerned, you and Harry were the only two people around at that moment. Your heart couldn’t have been any more full.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

To absolutely no one's surprise, you and Harry couldn’t keep your hands off each other for the remainder of the night. You were relieved there were no after parties being held that Harry would be expected to attend due to the pandemic because you could not get him alone fast enough.

“Slow down, Y/N,” Harry sets his Grammy on the foyer table as he kicks off his shoes. “Just us, innit? We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

“I’m just so proud,” you tell him breathlessly, sucking on the underside of his jaw. “Let me show you.”

“You have been showin’ me. A lot, actually,” Harry leans his head back and closes his eyes in pleasure as you lick tantalizingly slow against his veiny neck. “Guess one more time wouldn’t hurt, though.”

“Do you want me to blow you or not?”

“Oh, so that’s what’s gonna happen here?”

“If you’re gonna be annoying, then no.”

“Kiiiding,” Harry rolls his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “C’mon, let me get you upstairs.”

”You’re the one that won a Grammy, not me,” you remind him. “Let me make you feel good.”

Harry lets out a quiet hum, guiding you towards the couch. “Exactly–– I’m the winner. Doesn’t that mean I should get what I want tonight?” He falls backward onto the couch, pulling you atop his lap. His hand roams down the front of your dress and he squeezes your breasts roughly, clearly delighted that you decided to forgo a bra tonight.

“I suppose,” you answer, biting back a moan.

“You suppose? Not in the mood for it tonight?” He starts to retract his hand but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“I am!” You don’t even try to hide how desperate you are for your boyfriend.

“Gonna let me taste you, hmm?” As Harry asks his question he slowly slides off the couch and onto his knees in front of you, bunching your dress up around your hips. He leans in close to your already dripping center and inhales deeply, a blissed-out look on his face. “Smell fuckin’ incredible. I gotta taste ya.”

You spread your legs wider without even thinking about it, almost as if it’s on instinct. Harry easily moves your underwear to the side and immediately connects his lips with your clit, not giving you time to adjust to the sensation before he’s just going at it.

“Oh, Harry…”

“Rings on or off?” His voice is muffled due to your thighs being clamped around his head, but you can still understand what he’s saying.

“On!”

Harry chuckles against your cunt before sliding his index finger in with ease, loving the way you immediately clenched around the digit. “Y’like that, lovie? Wanna take another one?”

“Please.” Your boyfriend already has you breathless despite the fact that he was just getting started.

Harry slips his middle finger into you along with his index finger and starts curling it up in the way he knew you liked, trying his hardest to stimulate your g-spot. He looks extremely focused; leave it to Harry to make a night that was supposed to be all about him, not.

“S’fuckin’ tight,” he says, more so to himself. “You’d think with all the shags we’ve been ‘avin lately you’d be used to my fingers by now.”

You let out a loud groan at your boyfriend’s dirty talk. He knew that it was one of your biggest kinks so he usually overdid it just a tad bit. It’s not like you were complaining, though.

“Guess that means you’re not fuckin’ me hard enough, huh?”

Harry stops his movements and looks up at you through slightly hooded eyes, an amused (but not really) look on his face. “Not fuckin’ you hard enough? Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

You can tell by the tone of Harry’s voice that he has it out for you now, but there’s no use in recanting your statement. He was about to make sweet, primal, love to you and god were you ready. Harry goes back to mercilessly fucking into you with his thick fingers, speeding up or slowing down his pace based on how you clench around him.

”Fuck, H.”

“Feels nice?” He goes from moving his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion to a scissoring motion which feels just as good if not better.

“Yeah, really nice,” your fingers are tangled in Harry’s hair and you know he’ll give you hell later for getting it all knotted. “I’m close.”

“Already? Haven’t even properly fucked you yet,” Harry removes his fingers from you aching cunt agonizingly slow, wiping them on his expensive Gucci trousers. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to fix that, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you tonight, pet. Is that really any way to treat your Grammy-winning boyfriend-”

“Harry, come off it!” You exclaim, letting out a loud laugh as you watch him stand up and unbutton his pants. “You’re insufferable, I swear.”

Harry shoots you one of his blindingly bright smiles, wiggling his eyebrows as his pants pool around his feet. “Hey, ‘m just statin’ facts.”

He collapses onto the couch and pats his lap, giving his leaking cock two quick tugs. “Ride me.”

“Just because you won a Grammy doesn’t mean you don’t have to ask nicely anymore.”

“Y/N, my beautiful, dazzling, elegant girlfriend, will you please do me the honors of riding––”

“Why do you make everything so weird?” You groan as Harry laughs and pulls you into his lap with ease, wincing when your thigh brushes against his cock. Wordlessly, he places his hands on your hips and helps you sink down onto him, taking his lip in between his teeth to keep from yelling out.

”Fuck me…”

“I’m about to,” you reply, resting your head on his shoulder as you adjust to his size. His hands roam the expanse of your back as he waits for you to get used to the feeling on him, wanting to feel every part of your body all at once. Without warning, you begin sluggishly rolling your hips. You were in no rush anymore; you had him inside of you, and that was all you wanted from the start.

“S’that all you got in ya?” His tone is cheeky, almost mocking. “I think you can give me more than tha’.”

“I dunno if I can.”

“Why’s that?” Harry bucks his hips upward slightly causing you to let out a loud gasp.

“I just want you to fuck me. I don’t wanna do any work.”

At this, Harry quickly flips you over so your sweaty body is now below his. You moan at the sensation the new angle immediately brought you. “Want me on top like this? This is how you wanna have me, angel?”

You nod.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, Harry,” your eyes squeeze shut as Harry begins quickly thrusting into you. “God, yes. That feels amazing.”

“Yeah? Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” Harry reaches his hand down to thumb at you clit and raises an eyebrow while awaiting your answer.

“God,” you grab onto your breasts to prevent them from bouncing around as Harry’s thrusting into you but he rips your hand away.

“Wanna see ‘em.”

“Right there,” you moan, no longer trying to bite back your sounds of pleasure. Between Harry eating you out, fingering you, and now fucking you harder than he has in ages, you were a few sloppy thrusts away from coming all over his cock. “I’m gonna cum–”

“...Already?”

You know he’s teasing but you still reach between your sweaty bodies to swat at his bare chest. “Don’t tease!”

“‘M messin’ with ya, puppy,” Harry pushes his curls out of his eyes. “I’m almost there- you first. Cum for me, Y/N.”

Harry doesn’t have to tell you twice. You spasm around his cock as soon as he tells you to, lifting your hips up to meet him as you could tell he was growing tired. Harry pulls out moments later, muttering a quick, “Where do you want it?” before finishing on your chest.

The silence that fills the room is comforting but of course, it’s cut short by your pest of a boyfriend.

“If that's what I got just for winning one Grammy, what would I get if I won the others?”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic

2K notes · View notes

abluescarfonwaston · 3 years

Text

“I’m looking for-”

The guard cut him off. Pointing into the grounds. “He’s usually in the gardens this time of day. Take a left at the circle. It’s on the right.”

He blinked at the guard. Took a hesitant step forward.

No one stopped him.

Why did Oxenfurt even have guards if they just let strange men in? He definitely qualified as strange. He was a fucking witcher after all.

No wonder Jaskier was so strange if this was where he was educated.

The gardens were beautiful. They smelled wonderful.

He wandered through it. There was little point trying to sniff Jaskier out. He’d undoubtedly switched perfumes since last they’d met.

His ears ticked up. Jaskier was humming.

He turned down the path. Stopped. Looked around.

The only person was kneeling in the dirt wearing an absurdly large brimmed hat. Gardening.

He looked around again.

Nope. The humming was definitely coming from the person gardening.

He opened his mouth to call out-

Someone squeeked behind him. He turned.

A woman - girl really - with her hair up in another comically large hat and a trowel covering her mouth was staring at him.

That at least was normal.

She waved him over. Eyes flicking between him and the man that could not be Jaskier. She motioned for him to be silent leading him behind the elderberry bushes.

“Sorry Master Witcher, do you need something? I can get it for you- just - just don’t bother Professor Pancratz please? We only just started on the Skellige plants an hour ago and he gets so distracted-”

“I understand.” He nodded seriously at her. She deflated with a sigh of relief. “I’m looking for Jaskier? The bard?” It seemed silly to add that. Everyone knew Jaskier these days but it might speed the conversation along.

She squinted at him. “Yes. I- I did gather that. Did you need something for a potion? He says were not allowed to charge Witchers for potion ingredients because no one pays witchers fairly for their services but it does cost money to maintain the gardens so if you wouldn’t take too much then-”

“I don’t need ingredients.” Although now that he looked he could see that the majority of the plants were ones used in potions. Witcher and human alike. He reached out, touching the leaf of one. “Myrtle pepper? This doesn’t grow in Oxenfurt.” It didn’t grow in the northern realms even.

“Oh yes! He brought that one back a few years ago. Apparently the whole department bet that it would die but he got it to grow. He’s a genius.”

“Hm.” He stood up. “Jaskier?” He questioned. Trying to steer her back to the point.

“I’ll let him know you stopped by?”

He frowned. He didn’t want to stand here all day waiting. “Tell him I’m at the Barrel and Brug.”

She mock saluted. “Will do!”

When Jaskier entered hours later he smelled of flowers and soil.

“Thought you didn’t like flora.”

“Ugh.” He collapsed next to him at the bar. Stealing his drink. “You do one professor a favor and next thing you know you’re the leading thinker in plant science! I’m a bard! What is wrong with this world!”

“Hm.” He smirked amusedly taking his drink back.

“Jakob asked me to bring him a few seeds back for him because he was too old to get them and then bam! Next thing I know everyone's asking me the ideal soil conditions to maximize the Beggertick blossoms! I am a poet Geralt! This is absurd!”

“Given you’ve mistaken Vetch for Lupins I have to agree.”

He snorted. Resting his head against the sticky bar top. “I refuse to learn any of their names. If I don’t keep misnaming them they’ll make me publish a paper. An Academic paper mind you. No verse allowed. They’re Horrendous to read and worse to write. I refuse. I won’t do it. I won’t!”

The barkeep dropped off another drink that he’d motioned for. He slid it to Jaskier consolingly.

“Oh no. You might write something useful for once.”

His head snapped up. “How dare you! My music is incredibly useful!”

“At getting folks drunk.”

Jaskier shoved him hard. He didn’t move.

He let Jaskier sputter and curse at him for a bit longer before interrupting him.

“Got a contract for a Griffin.”

He closed him mouth. The tirade abandoned. “In Oxenfurt?”

He nodded. Near enough.

He sipped the beer. Propping himself up on the table. Swirled it. “How long do you think that’ll take?”

He cocked his head at the hesitation in his voice. “Few days maybe.”

“Oh.” He sighed. Relieved. “Then we can head south?”

“What, worried we’d leave tomorrow?” Jaskier grumbled noncommittally into his drink. He blinked. “You are.” Surprised.

“I just need a few days to make sure the plants settle in alright, that’s all!”

“The ones from Skellige?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Your assistant.” He started. “The plants are.” He tried instead. He fought with the idea and words in his mouth. “You don’t charge Witchers?” He finally settled on.

Jaskier’s lips drew into a thin line. “No. Told them not to.”

“Bad business.”

“School’s not a business. And its not like you use that much anyway.”

“Treading on Nenneke’s territory there.” Oxenfurt’s garden didn’t compare to Nenneke’s. Not with her greenhouse full of plants long extinct. But it was impressive.

“Ugh don’t tell Nenneke about this- Swear it to me Geralt. If she decides I’m decent company then next time you end up there we’ll both be trapped! She’ll never let us leave Geralt!”

“She would never count you as decent company Jaskier.” He assured.

He smiled ruefully. Toasted to that and drained his tankard.

“Why those plants?”

“Hm?” He questioned, trying to catch the bartenders attention.

“Why’d you choose those plants?”

The garden full of Witcher plants. From all across the continent. Elderberry, Beggertick, myrtle pepper. The fountain full of blood moss.

“Why not roses?” Jaskier loved roses. He’d once proposed he’d grow them if the world had no more need of poetry and song. Which it never would. Not that Jaskier could give it up even if it did.

Jaskier’s eyes stayed trained on the shelf of alcohol behind the bar.

“They’re useful aren’t they? More useful than roses.” The bard playing tonight started a jig. His attention shifted to the folks gathering on the floor to dance. “I’ll grow roses when you retire.”

“You mean when you retire?” He called out after Jaskier as he leapt into the procession of dancers. No answer coming beyond the stomping of feet and laughter.

Witchers don’t retire. You know that Jaskier.

Roses symbolize love. Jaskier educated him, stealing a few from a garden for his then paramour. Pure love in its many forms. He’d said, smacking him with a blossom.

No. He thought watching Jaskier flit and spin through the song. They don’t.

Love was a garden of myrtle peppers, elderberries and bloodmoss.

#Geraskier #Geralt x Jaskier #Jaskier stumbles into becoming a botany major #geralt #jaskier #idk man there's just something so soft about Jaskier taking up gardening to me #and the guard didn't turn Geralt away cause at this point they expect Witchers to come and take plants for their potions #JASKIER HELPING WITCHERS IN MORE WAYS #don't think about them growing old and retiring to corvo blanco and Jaskier finally gets to start growing roses #don't think about the garden of witcher plants he still keeps in a seculded section of the vineyard for Ciri and Lambert and Eskel #and all the other witchers he's quietly befriended over the years #don't think about all the students he's taught to love and respect witchers #Or the healers he's provided rare plants to for medicine going -oh you're Jaskier's friend #writing

3K notes · View notes