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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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I'm going to get you if it takes me all night long (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Nope

Category: Fluff

Warnings: I curse a lot.

Summary: On their third date, (Y/N) takes Spencer to his first rock concert, and for the first time ever, Spencer Reid feels the power of hormones taking over him.

A/N: Hey! I love Taking Back Sunday! I don't know if you've ever heard the band or the song mentioned in the story, so I'll leave the link to the video at the end. I hope you like it!

Word count: 2K

Masterlist

Spencer looked into his closet and sighed. He was sure nothing in there was suitable for the events that were going to take place that evening. Why should he bother looking for something, then? Because he wanted to look nice for (Y/N). And not embarrass her in front of her friends.

It was their third date, and she had picked the place.

On their first date, they were out for dinner after a case. On their second date, Spencer invited her to a Doctor Who convention. They even dressed like their favorite doctor. Spencer was the fourth Doctor and (Y/N) the tenth. That was when Spencer realized she was all he needed to be happy in life.

And tonight, on their third date, (Y/N) had gotten tickets to see one of her favorite bands live: "Taking Back Sunday." And not only that but her friends were coming along too.

Spencer didn't know what freaked him out the most, if going out on a date, knowing that it was his first rock concert, or meeting (Y/N)'s friends.

Maybe everything was a little overwhelming because he had to take a minute before actually getting dressed. He felt he was looking for an outfit to go undercover on a mission. Dr. Spencer Reid pretending to be a punk rocker. Or something like that.

An old pair of jeans and a simple blue shirt Morgan had given him for Christmas years before did the trick. Plus his usual converse and mismatched socks.

Reid had never over-analyzed an outfit ever before in his entire life.

(Y/N) nearly jumped from the couch when she heard the knock on her door. She was so excited to go out with Spencer, and she couldn't hide the grin on her face.

- "Wow!"- that was all she could say when she saw Spencer standing at her door- "Who are you?"

Reid looked down at his shoes and bit his lips. His cheeks were blushing, and his hands sweating. He was nervous. He thought maybe that's what going to prom felt like.

- "I didn't want to look out of place... I've never been to a rock concert before,"- he whispered

- "You look incredible, Spencer,"- (Y/N) whispered, smiling- "But just so you to know, I don't care what you wear, as long as you are there with me."- she added, blushing too.

Yes, they were going out. Yes, they had already kissed (four times, Spencer kept count). Yes, they would hold hands and look at each other with puppy eyes. But, it was still embarrassing to be so openly cute and adorable with each other.

Going from friends to more than friends was a big step for them, so they were taking things slow. Baby steps.

- "My friends said they'd meet us outside- (Y/N) announced as they stepped out of the cab- "Are you excited?"

- "Yeah!"- Spencer smiled. He was nervous. Actually, he was freaking out- "I heard the band today. They are pretty good"- (Y/N) looked at him and raised an eyebrow, standing by his side and holding his hand.

- "Really? Any favorite song?"- Spencer thought about it. He didn't remember the lyrics specifically, so he hummed it.

- "A decade under the influence." It's one of my favorites too"- she smiled and bit her lip, staring into Spencer's eyes

- "If we are lucky and they play it, and if you pay enough attention, you could find out which one of their songs makes me think of you."

And just like that, the butterflies in Spencer's stomach woke up. If he was nervous before, now he was nothing but excited. There was a song that made her think of him. Just the thought of her, listening to that song, thinking about him, it was too much.

Spencer Reid had fallen in love before. He had dated twice in his life. But he had never felt the way he did that minute, staring at (Y/N)'s smile. No girl before had ever told him there was a song that made her think of him.

Those were the little things that made him fall deeply and crazy in love with (Y/N).

Her friends were waiting for them at the doors. They were two of them: Jane and Chriss. They were (Y/N)'s best friends since elementary school. Now, at twenty-seven, they were still best friends. Spencer thought it was amazing how you could keep someone close for so long. He was never good at making friends, only Ethan back in college and now his BAU family. The fact (Y/N) could keep in touch with her friends ever since they were eight years old was incredible.

The show was at a local bar, which meant it was crowded. (Y/N) held Spencer's hand tight as they walked through the bunch of people, trying to get an excellent spot to see the band. And when they finally did, (Y/N)'s friends started questioning Reid.

- "So, you are Spencer"- Chriss looked at Reid and raised an eyebrow- "You are taller than I thought"- and Reid had no idea how to answer that, so he just nodded and smiled.

- "(Y/N) has told us a lot about you. I can't believe we just met after like... five years?"- Janne added and looked at her friend with a mischievous smile- "So you are the guy that knows a lot of things."

(Y/N) was already embarrassed, and her friends were just getting started.

- "Stop it."- she demanded and punched Jane's arm, but she just smiled and continued.

- "She keeps giving us random facts ever since she started working with you."

- "Yeah! she made us watch this incredibly boring documentary about space just because of some random thing you had said, and she needed to..."- (Y/N) covered her friend's mouth and

- "I'm begging you, please stop"- (Y/N) whispered, but Spencer chuckled and held her hand tight.

- "She talks about you a lot too"- he said and looked at (Y/N) smiling. He didn't want her to freak out or feel embarrassed. Her friends weren't helping, though.

- "She was really excited about tonight 'cos she wanted our approval to date you"- Chriss smiled at (Y/N), enjoying how embarrassed she looked. She was usually the one making fun of them. Now the tables had turned. And she hated it.

- "I don't need your permission!"- (Y/N) argued- "I just..."- but Chriss interrupted her, laughing.

- "I'm just messing with you! Relax! So, Spencer, do you like the band?"- Reid stayed still and nodded.

- "Yeah"- (Y/N) chuckled and wrapped an arm around his torso- "He is a huge fan."

Spencer Reid had never been in a rock concert before. He had never been out there, in the middle of a crowd, being pushed side to side, jumping, covered in sweat.

Spencer Reid had never had that much fun before.

He jumped along with the rest of the crowd, and though he didn't really know most of the songs' lyrics, he did remember the ones (Y/N) sang all the time. And so, he sang along.

She looked at him and felt how her heart beat faster. He was happy, and he seemed so relaxed. After knowing him for five years, she thought she had never seen him like that. Acting his age, being in a concert. Not worried about a thing.

(Y/N) sang along and jumped until she couldn't sing and breathe at the same time. There weren't many things she could still do working at the BAU, 'cos there wasn't much free time. The fact she could spend a Saturday night with her friends and Spencer in a concert felt like a miracle.

(Y/N) turned to him and smiled. He was covered in sweat, his hair was a mess, and the grin on his face was so big, she could feel his happiness. (Y/N) moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, leaning in and kissing him. She couldn't help it anymore. She needed to kiss him. Over and over.

Spencer felt electricity run all over him at the sensation of her lips on her. And as she deepened the kiss, he felt the urge to hold her closer, feeling her whole body against him. His hands played with her hair at the back of her neck as time stopped. All Spencer could notice was how her lips felt against his, the way his tongue ran between them. And how he thought he was going to die when she moaned into the kiss.

I didn't know what I was looking for

And come to think I wasn't looking at all

I'm not the same man, not since you came in

I'm going to get you if it takes me all night long

The crowd kept jumping. The band continued playing. Everybody kept singing. But neither (Y/N) or Spencer care. He wasn't going to let her go. His hands held her closer, feeling how she shivered. She wasn't cold. She was still nervous to touch him like that. She had longed to kiss him for so long, and she still couldn't believe it was happening.

It wasn't even their first kiss, but it still felt that way. Why? she didn't care. She didn't want it to stop. She wanted to feel like that forever. Safe in his arms. Loved, desired. No one had ever kissed her the way Reid did. And it was addictive.

For years, (Y/N) had stared at Spencer's lips, wondering how it would be like to kiss them. Now she knew it was better than she had ever imagined.

Don't know how you did it other than you did

I was there beside myself in my own skin

Unfamiliar, I tried it on and liked the fit

I don't know how you did it other than you did

I'm going to get you if it takes me all night long

When they finally pulled apart, not because they wanted to, but because the people around them kept pushing them and jumping, they could only stare. Spencer looked at (Y/N) in adoration, aware that his heart inside his chest was beating harder than it had ever done. (Y/N) smiled, her cheeks were blushed, and Reid thought it was adorable how she could still fluster around him. The truth was, he would get just as nervous about being that close to her.

- "That was the song."

(Y/N) confessed, yelling to make sure he would hear her over the crowd, and kept looking at him. Her eyes kept moving from his lips to his eyes. All she could think of was kissing him again. And again.

Would it be too much to invite him over to her house after the show? She didn't feel like hanging out with her friends anymore. If Spencer was going to kiss her as he had just done, she was going to keep on kissing him forever.

- "I loved the song!"- Spencer smiled. He wanted to lean in and kiss her again, he was dying to bit her lips once more, but the crowd pushed them apart for a second.

- "Do you want to leave?"- (Y/N) simply asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible, even when her thoughts were far from that. Spencer nodded and smiled

- "Pizza? my place? We can listen to all the albums of the band."- she suggested. Reid held her hand and walked her out of the bar quickly. He had never felt his hormones taking over him as strongly as it was happening at that moment. They didn't even say goodbye to her friends. They needed to leave and be alone.

Suddenly, stepping from friends to more than friends seemed easier.

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#Spencer Reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #mgg #dr spencer reid #babymetaldoll writes

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luvteez · 4 years

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bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

#blame 5*os for the creation of the band au idea #ateez smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez hard hours #atz smut #luvsmut #the ending is rushed oopsie but i never know how to end smut scenes ahahaha

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falcqns · 3 years

Text

i've missed this

pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

summary: Bucky forgot how much he loved cuddling with Steve.

warnings: does not follow the mcu timeline lmao, Steve found Bucky a few days after the helicarrier fight and brought him back to himself, badly written half smut. 18+ ONLY

a/n: this is my first Stucky fic, so I hope its not too awful!

in the 1940's it was quite normal for this to happen.

when Steve was still scrawny and sick, he couldn't retain any body heat, so Bucky would have to cuddle up to him at night to keep him warm.

when Steve found him after the helicarrier accident, he realized he'd never cuddle with Steve again. he didn't need to body heat anymore. that thought made him sad. he missed being close to Steve like he was then, and he missed those conversations that could only be described as madness on drugs, sending both Bucky and Steve into fits of delirious laughter until they passed out asleep.

Bucky didn't know just how much he'd missed it, until Steve gave him a hug. Bucky'd had a rough night the night before, and Steve could tell just by the look on his face. he wrapped him up in his arms, and assured him he didn't have to, but that he was always there if he needed to talk about anything. Bucky nodded, and swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed at the brief contact.

Bucky didn't sleep the following night either, trying to get the thought of cuddling with Steve and how much he'd missed it out of his head. eventually, Bucky couldn't hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall for hours on end, and gave in to the desire swirling in his head to have Steve wrapped around him.

he got up, and stumbled on his overtired and overworked legs towards Steve's room, and knocked on the door. he tried to stop the tears falling, but couldn't. Steve opened the door, and Bucky couldn't hold back the sob that escaped his throat.

"Buck? what's wrong?" Steve asked, placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky sobbed again and sniffled before speaking,

"c-can you h-hold me-e?" he stuttered out and Steve didn't waste any time in comforting him. Steve wrapped his arms around him, and guided him towards his bed. he helped Bucky onto the bed, and got him settled in between his legs. his head settled on Steves chest, and Steve smiled when he heard his heartbeat slow to a healthy and normal rate, and his breathing even.

"what's going on?" Steve asked tentatively, and Bucky snuggled closer to him and shook his head.

"y'gonna laugh at me," Bucky stuttered out, and Steve shook his head. "no. never. I lived with ya in the 1940's and had to listen to excuses about why you weren't going out with a certain girl anymore. I listened to your stupid rambling that sent us into tears of laughter every night like teenaged girls at a sleepover. nothing you could say about you being upset would ever make me laugh."

Bucky looked up at him. "I-i missed cuddling with you." he said, and a smile spread on Steve's face as he looked down at his best friend.

"well, that good because I missed cuddling with you too." Steve watched in contentment as a smile spread on Bucky's face.

"I just missed you in general." Bucky whispered, and Steve swallowed thickly at him. were Bucky's eyes always that blue? he'd never noticed it before, but he was glad he did.

something shifted in the air surrounding them, and neither could look away or focus on anything but each other. suddenly, Bucky had an urge to kiss Steve's pink and soft lips. he'd felt those urges before the war, and almost went through with it the night before he left, but didn't want to make things weird or have Steve regret anything if he died, but he was the one who ended up regretting it in the long run.

it seemed that Steve noticed this too, and took the jump. he leant his head down, and before Bucky could process that this was real, and Steve was about to kiss him, Steves soft and warm lips were on his, and they were kissing.

Bucky reacted immediately, and felt Steve smile into the kiss, before deepening it. the next thing Bucky knew, he was on his back, and Steve was wrapped around him. Steve rocked against him experimentally, and Bucky choked out a moan into the kiss. Steve moved his kisses down Bucky's neck, and rocked his growing erection against Bucky's more forcefully, hoping to draw out more moans.

he was rewarded with the small whimpers and whiny moans that were escaping from Bucky as he rutted into Bucky's hips faster.

"c'mon baby, lemme hear those pretty moans," Steve moaned against Bucky's heated skin, and Bucky cried out, his hands gripping Steve's shirt.

less than a minute later, Steve was on the edge of his orgasm, but was determined for Bucky to come first, and he knew it was close to happening. Bucky's back was arched, his eyes squeezed shut, and was clinging to Steve for dear life.

"m-more," he moaned out, and Steve pressed into him more. Bucky stilled, and then began shuddering as the waves of his orgasm washed over him, and the pure sight of it send Steve into his own orgasm.

"fuck, s'pretty when you cum," he moaned, and Bucky trembled in his arms. he rode out his orgasm, grinding his hips into Bucky's and watching shake from the aftershocks of his own orgasm. the last bit of his orgasm ebbed away, and he teared up as he looked down at a blissed out Bucky. "I love you," he moaned to Bucky, and Bucky gripped Steves sweat soaked locks and pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

"I love you too punk," Bucky said, and Steve chuckled.

Taglist:

@whytheychangediticantsay

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #captain america #stucky smut #stucky fluff #fluff #smut #angst #stucky angst

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seanfalco · 3 years

Text

A Red Carpet Event | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’verse

an oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Language, Smut (fingering, voyeurism, semi-public sex) a/n: And the smut continues. I love that even when we say we wanna work on something fluffy, it almost always turns smutty.

[ masterlist ]

——

"Is everyone set for tonight?" Lydia asked as she came into the room, having just arrived from the hairdresser. "Outfits, hair, makeup..." she mused, ticking off each on her finger.

When Lyddie had told the quad she was taking them all as her date to her first award show, the reactions had varied from excitement, to fear, to complete insanity. The truth was, she was scared to admit publicly that she was in a quad, but she couldn't keep that hidden forever and it shouldn’t be hidden, there was nothing wrong with it. Not to mention cheating rumors had been spreading online after some fans snapped pictures of Lydia and Win, which was complete bullshit.

“Are y’sure this dress is alright?” Win asked, looking at her reflection again. “Or these shoes? Maybe I should change...” she murmured, second guessing herself. She thought she looked nice, but this was definitely not her scene. She was used to band practices in garages and shows in sleazy dive bars, not award shows and red carpets.

"You look gorgeous, Winnie." Lydia held Win's hands. "You'll be the most beautiful girl there, guaranteed." Lyddie's dress was hanging by the wardrobe, it was purple with a wide skirt, a black leather corset around the waist and lacy sleeves. "Can one of you please make our lipsticks smear-proof so I can kiss my girlfriend?" she asked.

“Comin’ right up!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, snapping his fingers with a flourish. “There, snog away m’loves,” he said, pressing a kiss to Lyddie’s temple and then one to the top of Win’s head. “She’s right, you look fuckin’ stunning,” he whispered in her ear before straightening, leaving her smiling softly.

"I love dating reality warpers..." Lydia sighed before pulling Win by the waist and kissing her hungrily. "I can't wait to show you off to everyone." Turning to look at the two very observing Nathans, Lydia cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously? Neither of you have even showered yet, do you even wanna come, or should I just bring Win?"

"It takes literally two seconds for me t'be ready, Lollipop, calm down..." her Nathan laughed at how nervous she was.

“Same,” Win’s Nathan said with a shrug. “Besides, it’s not everyday we get t’see th’pair of you all dolled up like this. Gotta savour th’moment,” he pointed out.

"Well, enjoy the show, I guess..." Lydia laughed as she undressed to put on her dress. "I imagine none of you wanna help me get dressed with magic, do you?"

"Why would we?" Lyddie's Nathan asked. "Cut down on your naked time? No way!" The other Nathan laughed, wholeheartedly agreeing with him.

“Do you need some help Lyddie?” Win asked reaching for the dress on the hanger.

"Please, baby. I need you to pull those corset strings as if I was hanging from a cliff, the camera adds ten pounds and I can't afford that on my first award show," Lyddie laughed.

“You got it, love,” Win murmured, helping her lace up the corset while the boys watched, lounging on the bed. “Is that tight enough?” she asked, tugging the ribbons as tight as she could, though not wanting to hurt her girlfriend either.

"Yeah, that's good," Lydia said, nearly losing balance for a second, but soon she was able to breathe again; fainting on the red carpet was also not a very good idea. "Thank you, Winnie." Lydia turned to the mirror, looking for anything to fix before bending over to lace up her combat boots. She thought about wearing heels, but she didn't wanna be the tallest one in the group. "So, how do I look?"

“Like an angel, a punk rock angel,” Win supplied with a grin while her Nathan nodded enthusiastically.

"A sexy punk rock angel." Lyddie's Nathan waggled his brows at her while biting his lip.

"Thank you, guys," she murmured, looking down, slightly flustered. "We should probably get going, the car should be arriving any second."

"Oooh, a car? Right posh, Lollipop, you'll end up spoiling me." Lyddie's Nathan got up as his usual shirt and jeans became a dark blue suit.

Win's Nathan snapped his fingers, deciding on a black suit to match Win's little black dress. "There, we look like a right pair now," he said, admiring himself in the full length mirror with a wink before turning back to the others. "Right, I think we're ready then," he said excitedly. "I wanna see this car you've got us. D'you think they'll have champagne in there?"

"Jesus, I hope not..." Lyddie muttered under her breath, partially because she knew the only thing worse than two Nathans were two drunk Nathans.

When the quad stepped outside, the car was already waiting. When Lyddie's manager had said he’d send a driver, she didn't expect it to be a limo driver, but hey, she wasn't complaining.

"Oh my God," she shrieked excitedly. The lights inside the car made it seem like a nightclub on wheels.

"I know!" Lyddie's Nathan grabbed a handful of candy from one of the tiny jars and shoved it in his mouth. "Brilliant!"

"Damn, this is nice," Win murmured, running her hands over the leather seats as her Nathan plopped down next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulder. "I bet you could shag back here," she mused, looking around while Nathan searched for the booze.

"Ohh shit, good idea babe," he exclaimed, his eyes latching onto the champagne flutes on the opposite side of the car. "Thereeee we are," he cried, rubbing his hands excitedly as he grabbed one, handing it to Win as he reached for the chilling bottle. "Nathan, Lollipop, some bubbly for you?"

"Hell yeah," Lyddie's Nathan nodded excitedly, shoving more food into his mouth.

"When in Rome... Sure, why not?" Lydia agreed. Maybe the alcohol would help with her nerves. Looking around, she wished she could be as carefree and wild as her girlfriend. Win was the life of the party, Lyddie was more like... the mum that holds everyone's hair back when they get sick.

“You okay?” Win asked, noticing Lyddie’s anxious expression as she took a sip of her drink.

"Um... yeah, just a tad anxious," Lydia suddenly felt very much like that little girl in the bowling alley again. Performing was one thing, she was confident in her skills, but this was different. People would be looking at her, not listening to her music.

“Wanna talk about it?” Win asked, frowning slightly, resting her hand on Lyddie’s thigh.

"You know, it's just... everyone's having fun, thinking about shagging in the backseat, while I'm freaking out. For once I wanna be able to enjoy the moment."

Win looked thoughtful before quickly tipping back the rest of her champagne. “Would you like me to help you take your mind off it?” she asked, moving closer. “Because I seem to remember your make-up is rather smudge proof.”

"That actually sounds amazing," Lydia drawled, taking another sip of her drink before handing it to her Nathan, who seemed happy to finish it for her. "What do you have in mind, baby?"

Win’s only answer was to smirk as she leaned in to capture Lydia’s painted lips, reaching up to brush her fingers along her jaw as she kissed her, moaning softly.

"Oh, okay..." Lyddie's Nathan finally noticed them and watched hypnotized. Lydia let herself go, the champagne plus Win's cold lips made all her doubt immediately fade away. "That's better," Lyddie murmured, pulling Win onto her lap.

“I’m full of good ideas,” Win murmured, wrapping her arms around Lydia’s shoulders as she settled in her lap. “You really do look fucking hot tonight babe.”

"You too," Lyddie murmured against Win's lips, both of her hands sliding down to her girlfriend's ass. "So hot, I can't believe you're mine." Lyddie's Nathan stared at them agape, mirroring his clone's reaction.

Win grinned into the kiss, wanting to thread her hands into Lyddie’s hair, but refraining, not wanting to mess it up. Opening her mouth, she teasingly licked at her girlfriend’s parted lips.

“I would say I’m all yours, but I know how much you like sharing,” she murmured.

“Oh shiiiit,” Win’s Nathan hissed, whistling low between his teeth. “If y’keep that up I’m gunna hafta either do something about this hard on I’m gettin’ or it’s gunna be an awkward night.”

"Way ahead of you, man," Lyddie's Nathan was already stroking his cock at a steady pace.

"Right now you're all mine," Lydia whispered in between kisses, one of her hands resting on Win's thigh, the other kneading her breast. "I need to blow off some steam."

“Jesus,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, quickly averting his eyes from his clone’s cock and hastily fumbling at his belt. “I guess that works,” he muttered, sighing as he took himself in hand.

“Oh good,” Win murmured, grinding gently against Lydia. “I can definitely help with that baby.”

Lydia's arousal soaked her knickers, but she didn't worry about that, she just wanted to feel Win, all of her. "I want you to mark me up," Lydia begged. "I don't care who sees it, I want them to know I'm being taken care of."

Win pulled back, her brows shooting up. “Really? Right before your event?” she asked, the thought arousing her further. It was her guilty pleasure after all to leave her mark on her partners. She just didn’t want Lyddie to feel self conscious when they got there.

"Yeah, give those bloody gossip magazines something to talk about." Lyddie bit her lip, her hand slipping between Win's legs, fingers gently teasing her inner thighs. "Don't you want them to know how good you make me feel?"

“Oh God, Lollipop, you’re such a rebel,” Win teased, but she didn’t have to convince her further and she latched onto Lydia’s neck, her teeth grazing her sensitive skin before she began to suck, drawing a breathy moan to her girlfriend’s lips. Lifting her face she lapped gently at the spot before moving slightly lower to repeat the processes, kissing her with fervor.

"Just like that, Winnie, it feels so good..." Lydia gasped, the thought of people knowing what she did just made her even hotter. "I wanna make you feel good." Lyddie's fingers quickly found Win's clit, circling it gently at a torturous pace. "Did you get this wet just from snogging me?"

Win gasped as Lyddie touched her. “Yes, you definitely have that effect on me babe,” she whispered, the soft grunts of pleasure from the boys only serving to turn her on more. She’d found right away since joining this relationship how much she like being watched. “Lyddie, please?” Win whined, pausing her exploration of the other woman’s neck.

"Oh, please?" Lydia smirked, finding herself in one of her 'taking charge' moments, which have been more frequent ever since Win came into her life. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you need.”

Lyddie's Nathan was always surprised to see her act this way, but he was starting to realize he liked it... maybe he should ask her to do the same to him sometime.

“More,” Win sighed, grinding against Lyddie’s hand. “Faster?” she asked with a pout. Win’s Nathan’s bit his lip. Hearing Win beg like that did things to him. She wasn’t usually the submissive type, and as much as he loved when she took charge, he loved seeing her like this, vulnerable and begging for it.

"Aww, you do look cute when you beg..." Lyddie moved slightly faster, pressing her forehead to Win's with an amused grin. "Such a good girl. Nate," Lydia turned to Win's Nathan, narrowing her eyes playfully at him. "Do you think I should finger her? Do you think Winnie deserves it?"

For a moment his hand froze as he gaped at Lydia. “Y-yeah, give it to her Lollipop,” he exclaimed, groaning softly. “Fuck that’s so hot.”

"Okay then," Lydia smiled at Win, as much as she loved being a submissive, seeing her girlfriend helpless like that was really sexy. "I guess you deserve it..." She teased Win's entrance for a second, gathering her arousal before pumping two fingers inside of her, the heel of Lyddie's hand still rubbing against the other woman's clit.

“Oh fuck, Lyddie,” Win moaned. “I’m supposed to be the one distracting you,” she murmured, dragging her lips along Lydia’s neck.

"You are," Lydia sighed, her fingers curling to find Win's sweet spot. "I love to see you like this... Just don't come before I say so, alright?"

“Yes, Lyddie,” Win answered obediently, her voice coming out breathy. “I love you, you’re so good to me,” she murmured, burying her face in Lydia’s neck, biting down hard.

"I love you too, baby," Lyddie purred, clenching her eyes shut, she was really turned on, but she liked the idea of having to wait until they all got home. "I wanna hear you moan for me."

Win moaned louder, clutching at Lydia as she felt her climax nearing, pleasure coursing through her. “Oh Lyddie, I’m close!” she exclaimed, writhing in her lap, grinding against her hand as it pumped into her.

"You wanna come, Winnie?" Lydia studied her face carefully, adding a third finger inside of her. "Ask me nicely, tell me how bad you want it..."

“Please Lyddie,” Win gasped, “please, I’m so close, I wanna— I want— oh please baby,” she begged.

"Such a needy little thing," Lydia mused for a second, enjoying what she was able to do. "Okay, baby, come for me." Lyddie's words seemed to have an effect on her Nathan as well and he squirmed as he came, making a huge mess on his suit, but he didn't care.

Win’s mouth fell open, her eyes falling shut as she came around Lyddie’s fingers with a whine, her whole body tensing. “Holy shit,” Win’s Nathan gasped, biting his lip as he came over his hand.

"That's better," Lydia held Win against her chest, kissing her temple. "I feel a lot more confident now, we're gonna crush this thing."

"Jesus... you crushed me," Lyddie's Nathan exclaimed, zipping up his trousers, leaning back in his seat.

“Ahh, so that was your plan all along,” Win mused, brushing a weak kiss to Lydia’s jawline. “I’m glad I could help. Fuck, but I love you like this,” she murmured, straightening to glance back at the Nathan’s. “Oops, looks like you made a bit of a mess there, Natty,” she purred with a laugh.

"If I can make you beg like that, I can do anything..." Lydia chuckled. "Maybe I should take charge more often, you look so hot."

"Oh, yeah," Lyddie's Nathan looked down at his ruined suit, but with a swift hand motion, it was clean and perfect again. "There, problem solved."

“I’m hot? You’re sexy as hell,” Win laughed. “I like dominant Lydia,” she admitted. “Though I like you every way,” she added, tracing the dark hickies she’d left. “I left you some gifts,” she whispered before slipping off her lap to sit between Lyddie and her Nathan. “Nathan, babe, you have a little something too,” she pointed out, glancing down at his trousers and the white stain there.

“Yeah, well, you look a little disheveled yourself sweetheart,” he teased, snapping his fingers to fix their appearances.

Lydia grabbed a mirror in her purse to look at the state of her neck. "That's definitely gonna leave an impression... I love it."

"At least we don't gotta worry about fans hittin' on ya," her Nathan muttered, moving to kiss over the marks.

"You know... even if I don't win tonight, I'm already happy with the outcome."

“And when we get home, we’ll celebrate either way,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed as the car rolled to a stop.

"I can't wait..." Lydia looked over her shoulder to wink at him as someone opened the door, and she hopped out of the car.

The others followed, with different degrees of nervousness, Win slipping her hand in Nathan’s. Outwardly she held her head high, a slight smirk on her face, but the way her fingers trembled in his, he knew she was anxious.

Lydia was somewhat used to the public by now, but the Press still scared the shit out of her. She took her Nathan's hand on one side and Win's on the other as they walked down the red carpet. "

Lyddie, Lyddie! Who are you wearing?" a voice rang in her ear.

"I have no idea, this is thrifted," she laughed, posing in different angles.

"Lyddie! Are you still engaged?"

"Yes, she is!" her Nathan pulled her hand up to flash the ring.

“Lyddie! Who else is with you?” one of the photographers shouted before snapping several photos of Win and the other Nathan. “Is your fiancé a twin?”

“You could say that,” Win’s Nathan grumbled under his breath, while Win flashed a smile at the camera, giving Lydia’s hand a squeeze.

"These are my partners," Lydia nearly shouted, way too excited to say that. "My boyfriend, and my girlfriend."

"Are you expecting a win tonight?" A reporter asked, recorder in hand.

"Oh yeah," Lydia leaned in to speak into the mic. "But even if I don't get album of the year, I feel that this win already came for me... I mean to me."

At Lydia’s words Win felt her face flare hotly, and a loud cackle burst from her Nathan’s lips. “Oh you could definitely say that!” he exclaimed, giving her a cheeky pinch.

Lydia smiled for a few more pictures before moving on to sign a few autographs and take pictures with her fans waiting by the barricade. Her Nathan nudged Win's arm, smiling while he watched Lydia laughing, having fun and being herself without worrying about anyone's opinion.

“Hmm?” she murmured, looking up at him. “What’s up?”

"Look what you did... she's so happy." He didn't wanna be sappy, but it was too adorable.

Win flushed at his praise, a soft smile lingering on her lips as she watched Lydia.

“Ahh, it was nothin’,” she murmured, leaning into his side. “She did all the work,” she murmured under her breath.

——

Delilah glanced at the screen as she took a sip of her drink, only half paying attention to the award show as several musicians walked along the red carpet, until a flash of green hair caught her eye and she nearly choked, leaning forward to snatch the remote and turning up the volume. “And who do you have with you tonight?”

“These are my partners—“ Delilah’s mouth fell open as she recognized her step sister’s face come across the screen, hanging on the arm of the gangly curly haired bloke she’d moved out with, as well as a woman with cotton candy coloured hair.

“MOM!”

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x oc #nathan x win #nathan x lyddie #otp: green apple lollipop #timeline anomaly’verse #my writing #collaboration

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jobean12-blog · 4 years

Note

Hello! Can I request something really angsty? Like maybe one where Bucky can feel that his best girl is falling out of love with him and can see her getting close with someone else? Maybe written from his POV? (But the ending is all up to you 👌😁)

Anesthesia

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,700

Summary: Bucky feels like his girl is falling out of love with him, he’s struggling but thankfully a friend helps him see the light.

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request and most importantly thank you for your patience with me, sorry it took so long! I went pretty angsty here and I hope you like it. I’ve been listening to a lot of Type O Negative the past few days so the title is from one of their songs called ‘Anesthesia’ and it definitely gave me some inspiration. It does end on a happy note because I have to do that haha! Thank you all for reading! Much love❤❤❤

Warnings: some fluff with Sam, lots of angsty Bucky and Steve, Bucky feeling like he isn’t enough, but a happy ending! :)

With your arm thrown around Sam you walk into the kitchen in search of a snack. You grab the Oreos and some milk, explaining to Sam that the only way to eat them is dunked in milk. “What about twisting the tops off and eating the cream first?!?” Sam asks in disbelief. “Nah, they get all gooey with the milk and then you can drink it and it tastes like Oreos,” you tell him.

Sam’s smile is wide as he watches you stuff a whole milk-dunked-Oreo in your mouth. “Yummmmm,” you mumble through your mouthful just as you catch Bucky walking in. “Hey babe,” you say, a little more clearly this time, “want an Oreo?”

Bucky looks from you to Sam and back to you, trying to keep a smile on his face, “um, nah that’s ok, we are going to dinner in 5 minutes, remember?” You gulp down the rest of your bite, eyes slightly downcast as you reply, “shit, Buck, I completely forgot. Sam and I just had a bite before. But if you want, I’d be happy to come sit with you.”

You give him a hopeful look, wishing you could see anything other than the sad look in his eyes. “It’s ok, I’ll see if Steve is around,” he says quietly, turning and walking out. “Wow, you’re right, y/n, these really are good with milk,” Sam says, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. You barely manage a smile in Sam’s direction, “told ya so,” you say before bidding Sam goodbye and heading to your room.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky’s fingers fly over his cell phone screen, ‘hey Steve, you around, wanna catch a bite, I need to get out.’ He stands with his hip cocked against the doorframe, jaw clenched, and his hat pulled down over his face. He’s not even hungry anymore, he just needs to be away from here.

His phone pings with Steve’s reply and he lets out a deep breath, heading for the door and a reliable shoulder to lean on. As the brisk city air fills his lungs and pinches his cheeks it’s as if he is feeling alive for the first time in too long. He’s emotionally stunned, either everything feels wrong or he feels nothing at all.

He finds Steve sitting in their usual booth in the back. With long strides he reaches him quickly, sitting across the table, eyes brimming with all the emotions he’s working through. “What is it Buck?” Steve asks, his concern evident. At first Bucky just stares at his hands wrung together in his lap, the words on the tip of his tongue but trapped by some invisible hold.

Steve’s patience is something Bucky has always needed and right now Steve has it in abundance as they sit in silence while the minutes continue to stretch on. Bucky finally glances up at Steve, the look in his eyes nearly breaking him, “she’s falling out of love with me.”

Steve pinches the bridge of nose, sitting quietly before speaking, “Buck… are you sure that’s...” Bucky cuts him off before he can finish the sentence, the words now freely flying off his tongue, “Steve, I know what you’re gonna say. That it’s my insecurities and I’m projecting. But she was with Sam again today and they went out to eat even though she had plans with me. She said she completely forgot and it’s just not like her. I don’t know…”

His voice trails off as the waitress shows up to take their orders. Steve leans over the table, forcing Bucky to look him in the eyes, “have you spoken to her about this?” Bucky lets out an audible sigh, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight, “no.” “And, in my defense, she’s never available to talk. Every time I try to get the words out, we are interrupted by someone, mostly Sam these days and it just feels like she doesn’t see it.”

“Doesn’t see what, Buck?” Steve asks, making him sigh once again. “That I’m losing her. That every breath I take is a regret, that I’m failure and I want to run and hide. What’s keeping her here, what do I have to offer?” Bucky finishes the last sentence in a pained whisper just as the waitress returns with their food.

Steve clears his throat and smiles up at her, “thanks, doll, we’re all set.” She nods with pink cheeks and leaves them alone once again as Steve watches Bucky push the food around his plate. “Listen to me. And you listen good, Buck. I’m the last person to deny you time to live in your doubts. I get it. But I’m not gonna let you die there. You are and always have been enough, for me, for y/n, for all of us. You’re the only one that has trouble seeing it.”

Bucky pins him with a hard stare, “then why is she always with Sam?” The question is laced with venom, something Bucky never wanted to taste but it’s as if it’s the only thing he knows now. “Have you thought that maybe it’s because you’re pulling away and you’re not talking to her!!!” Steve retorts, tone harsh if only to get his point across. Bucky visibly flinches and Steve immediately softens, “I’m sorry Buck, I just…I know how you get and if you’re not talking to her then how do you know she isn’t thinking the same thing as you?”

Bucky drags his hand down his face, plainly defeated, “I’m so scared, Steve, what if she doesn’t want to deal with me, with all this,” he motions to himself. “Sometimes I wish I never knew what it was like, ya know, ignorance is bliss.” Steve frowns, “what do you mean Buck?”

“Maybe it would be easier if I never knew how special she was, her heart, her laugh, smile, the smell of her skin, the feel of her lips…maybe I don’t need love.” Steve clenches his jaw and stands abruptly, dragging Bucky up by his collar, “don’t you talk like that. None of it is true, not one word of it. You deserve love and you deserve her. Don’t you run and hide, you’re not a coward and your options are exhausted. You know what you have to do”

The look in Steve’s eyes startles Bucky, making him stand a bit straighter. He grabs Steve’s wrist, grip tight and strong, “I do,” he grits out, “but I’m so scared.” Steve smiles for the first time since they have been together, “hasn’t ever stopped you before.” The light finally reaches Bucky’s eyes as all that Steve has said starts to sink in, “you’re right.”

They leave the restaurant; both sets of wide shoulders held a bit higher and a purpose in Bucky’s steps. He can do this. He must. Their walk back to the tower is quiet, nothing more needing to be said. Before parting ways, Steve pulls Bucky into a tight hug, “I’m with you, buddy,” he says and Bucky smiles, replying, “till the end of the line, punk.”

Bucky searches for you, first looking in your shared room but finding it empty. He even goes to see Sam, thinking you might be with him again. You aren’t and Sam explains he hasn’t seen you since having Oreos. Bucky feels his chest tighten with anxiety, a million questions flying through his mind. Did you leave? Are you with someone else now? Do you not want to see him?

Taking a deep breath to clear his head he does his best to shake off the negative thoughts and squares his shoulders. Standing alone in the quiet hallway he considers all the places you might be. It finally dawns on him and he takes off with a run toward the elevator.

Running down the streets of NYC toward Central Park, Bucky doesn’t stop to take a breath, not that he needs to, he just needs to get to you. You’re all he needs to breathe. Rounding the fence, he heads toward a secluded spot with a large collection of glacial rocks. He spots you right away, sitting atop the boulders on a blanket, seemingly lost in thought.

As if you can sense his presence you turn and look down, your eyes catching his and in that moment you understand. Your surroundings melt away and the only thing you see is Bucky climbing toward you, his blue eyes brimming with tears. You stand and open your arms as he makes one last push, grabbing you and crushing you to his chest.

Neither of you speak for some time, just holding each other, the feel of his warm body against yours allowing you to finally take a deep breath. His shirt is stained with your tears and you feel the wetness along his cheeks when he finally brings his mouth to your skin and kisses you all over. “I love you; I love you; I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Bucky…,” you pull back to look him in the eyes, “I love you, I’m so in love with you, I’m sorry.” He wipes away a stray tear with his thumb, cradling your face in his large hands, “no, no, I’m sorry. I let myself get stuck in a dark place and didn’t allow you to follow. You, the only light that always brings me back.”

Grabbing his wrists, you kiss him, holding on like your life depends on it. And it does. You tell him so, tell him you can’t live without him, every piece of him, especially the damaged parts. You love them the most. The weight of your words makes him feel lighter than he ever has, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

He sits down on the cool rocks, the sun setting behind the trees of Central park. Bucky has you cradled in his lap, your head against his chest as you listen to the now steady beat of his heart. You’ve both exhausted all your words, for now, nothing more to be said. Bucky kisses the top of your head and you look up into his eyes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear behind blue.

@book-dragon-13 @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @loricameback @littleredstarfish @littledarlinhavefaithinme @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @when-the-hell-is-bucky

#buck barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #sebastian stan

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detroitbydark · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4

Characters: Hound/Nuna (OC) , Ryk (Clone OC), Tully (OC)

Warnings: Not a one!

A/N: went back and forth on wether this chapter would be sweet or spicy. In the end I’m happy with the direction I chose because these two are absolutely cinnamon rolls and I love them.

———

“So…uh, that guy? He seemed like kind of a sleen, right?” Oh Fett. He was saying the wrong thing wasn’t he? He was going to blow this whole thing to the Outer Rim and-

Nuna laughs. Not just a soft feminine laugh but one that builds and bubbles up from deep inside her. It’s a laugh that leaves her cheeks adorably pink and her chest heaving to pull in breaths.

“A sleen? Maker! That is literally the best thing I’ve ever heard. Yes, absolutely!” She yells over the music as one song shifts seamlessly to the next. The bass pumps in his chest like a second heartbeat. Hound glances over his shoulder to see Ryk and Rule in conversation with Nuna’s friend, also apparently his new friend, Tully. The Pantoran gives him a wink when she catches his eye and he turns back to Nuna quickly.

“Do you wanna drink?” She beats him to the punch. “I feel like after that rescue mission I probably owe you. Also, this song?” She looks up as if the music were an actual entity hovering above them. “I love it.”

Kriff. He was supposed to be the one getting her a drink. Right? He never realized how utterly useless at this he was. No wonder Mouse never gave him the time of day.

That wasn't exactly fair though, was it? Looking back now, Hound can see that his failure had nothing to do with him being himself and everything to do with him not being Commander Fox.

Mouse had eyes for the Commander before she probably even realized it. When it came down to it, the Commander was happy and that made it easier on them all. Al’verde deserved something nice, good, and all his own.

They all did.

“I guess that would be nice, but I don’t want you feeling like you have to because you don’t.”

Nuna rolls her eyes dramatically. “My treat. You can get the next one. Sound like a plan?”

The next one. He liked that idea. He gives her an affirmative nod and her bright smile lights up the darkened club. His chest squeezes uncomfortably and he takes just a moment to wonder what the kriff was going on but then he’s watching her side step through the crowd and he wonders if he shouldn’t have gone with her.

Tully joins him as the pair watch her finally get to the bar.

”Took ages to get her to realize she didn’t look like the wrong end of a Hutt,” Tully offers.

“Huh?” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“After things went sideways with Alistar and let me tell you they went sideways.” She emphasizes the syllables on the last words as she clarifies.

Hound doesn’t press even though he wants to know. Instead he chooses the next question on his mind.

“Which end is the wrong one?”

“Take your pick.”

He can’t help the grin that crosses his face as he looks over at the Pantoran. She’s grinning back.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she won’t and she deserves better than the likes of him and his kind of scum. You seem like a good guy.”

Hound rubs at the back of his neck. He wasn’t used to compliments outside of the backhanded one he and his vode threw about jokingly. ‘Good guy’ seems like a big deal coming from Tully.

“I try?”

Tully laughs. “No you don’t. It shows when someone is trying. You’re a natural.” Maybe she can sense he’s about to argue because she gives him a serious look. “Deal with it trooper.”

Something about the way she says it tickles him. A bark of laughter rises up in his chest and spills out. “Ok, yeah, roger that Commander.”

“Who’s the Commander now?” Ryk is pressing between the pair, an arm coming to rest on each of their shoulders. Rule is talking up a pretty green twi’lek and in a world of his own a few steps behind them.

“I’m the Commander, pretty boy,” she hums, tapping the younger Sargeant’s nose with a finger.

Ryk turns to Hound with wide, slightly drunk eyes as Nuna slides back up to the group. She hands Hound his drink.

“Did you hear that, Hound dog? I’m pretty.” His head snaps back to Tully.

“You think I’m pretty?”

The smile that fills the Pantorans face is almost feral. “I can think of a few ways you’d be prettier.” The way her eyes trace over his face is unmistakable and Hound hides a cough in his drink. It’s like watching some fragged up mating dance.

“Can you get your hands on some cuffs?” Tully asks sweetly.

Ryk’s jaw nearly hits the liquor sticky floor. “Stasis cuffs? So fast it would make your head spin, beautiful.”

Hound watches the pair, head snapping back and forth. Nuna leans against his side and rises to her toes. She rocks idly to the sound of the music as if it was second nature for her body to find a beat and follow it.

“Do you think he realizes that she would eat him alive?”

“I think he’s kind of into that.”

Ryk was into that. No question about it. It just wasn’t Hounds place to say.

They all had their own proclivities (except for maybe Thire). Ryk just chose to wave his freak flag a little bit harder than the rest.

Nuna chokes off a laugh and takes a drink. Tully, long legged and stunning, was absolutely a hunter on the prowl and tonight 79’s was her natural habitat.

Hound hasn’t seen Ryk so keyed up in ages.

“Good for him,” Nuna says after a long drink, “If she has her way, neither of them will walk straight for a week.” There’s a wistful tone to her voice that throws his mind into immediate overdrive.

He nearly swallows his tongue as he looks down at her. He was used to pretty frank locker room talk. Even shinies who’d only just seen their first woman getting off the transport in the Triple Zero had “stories” to tell.

There was nothing new or fascinating about talking sex. Except… he hadn’t realized that girls - women - could and would talk about it just as openly. The fact that the one he was feeling all google-eyed for was the one doing it made a heat rise up in his cheeks - and then sink low in his belly.

Nuna offers him a sweet smile, completely oblivious to what she was doing to him.

“So do you like to dance?”

Wait a minute she was just talking about- how could she just move past that-

“Uhh, not really. I mean- I really never have. I’m more of a wall holder-upper,” he offers as the DJ of the night begins to morph one song to the next.

“Oh…” she glances at the dance floor, “because I really love this song.”

“I feel like you’ve loved every song you’ve heard,” he teases. Her smile is bashful as she shrugs.

“Occupational hazard?”

“If you want to dance don’t let me stop you. I can hold your drink.” He offers as Nuna bites at her lower lip glancing between him and the pair of Tully and Ryk.

“Ok then... but you can join me if you get bored.”

“Noted,” he says with a laugh as she grabs onto her friend's arm. Ryk pouts as the pretty pink Pantoran blows him a kiss and stumbles to catch up with Nuna’s insistent pull.

”Do you think she’d step on me if I asked really nice?”

Hound’s head whips to the side and the toothy grin of Ryk standing next to him.

“What?!”

“Tully vod, keep up. I would lick that woman’s boots if she told me to.”

“You are a freak. Certifiable,” Hound laughs shaking his head.

The troopers watch silently. Hound sips at his drink and holds Nuna’s safely in the opposite hand. The girls dance close, smiling and laughing as the beat drops. Tully’s hand wraps around the back of Nuna’s waist and holds her close.

It reminds Hound of the affection batted around by his brothers. A playful, physical grounding touch that told a vod that they were cared for. Usually for him it was a sparring match or a quick bit of boxing but for the two women they watched dancing seemed to do the trick.

“While I do find watching can be rewarding in its own right” Ryk says nodding lazily toward Nuna and Tully. “I think participating would be much more rewarding”

Hound grunts as he watches. Nuna’s hips swirl and roll with the beat of the music. It’s kriffing mesmerizing and he can think of nothing better than having his hands on them as they move in tight little circles and figure eights.

“I don’t dance… at least not like that.”

Ryk laughs, “Vod! It’s flash training! If you can’t pick up a simple dance you are a failure as an ARF trooper.”

Just the accusation makes Hound bristle. He’d done far more difficult things during advanced recon training. It was just dancing. It wasn’t that intimidating.

Except he was feeling very intimidated.

Ryk runs a hand over his face before slinging an arm around Hound’s shoulders.

“Listen, you can choose to stay here, but if you do I can guarantee at least one of those shinies over there is going to do it for you.”

Hound's eyes follow Ryk’s line of sight to the group of shines off to their opposite side. Their heads are close together but their eyes are on Tully and Nuna. Watching their mouths, Hound can make out every third or fourth word and he’s not impressed.

Ryk doesn’t let his brother's indecision stop him. Hound watches with frustration as the other trooper makes his way to the two girls and slots in behind Tully. She gives him an appraising look before she relaxes back into his grip. Nuna steps back. While she’s still with the pair she’s definitely on her own. It doesn’t seem to bother her though. She really did seem to enjoy being out there.

Hound glances back to the shinies. One of them is bouncing on his toes while the ones on each side slap at his armor hyping him up.

Uh no. Not happening punk.

It was the sense of pride alone that finally gives him enough courage to move away from their table. He downs both the remainder of his drink and hers as he goes, setting the empties on a passing tray.

Nuna catches him in the flashing lights just as he reaches her. She doesn’t quit moving and he finds it even more distracting up close.

“The wall ok to hold itself up?”

“Yeah, I guess…” he lets out a rough breath.

Flash training, he reminds himself. This was no different than the rapid learning expected of them on Kamino. There wasn’t even any live fire to deal with. He could do this. A warm tingling ignites in his belly as the pair of drinks slosh around.

“I have no clue what I’m doing,” he admits. Nuna offers a soft smile.

“I can help.”

She’s in his space in the blink of an eye, already pressing In close enough where he can feel her body heat through his armor. Her arms move around his neck and he relaxes down just a little to make it more comfortable for them both.

Tully and Ryk are in their own little world just feet away. Hound can see the way his vods fingers flex on her hips. Tully has her head resting back on Ryk’s shoulder and her mouth turned in toward his neck. She’s whispering things that have both of them heavy lidded. Their bodies move together in a precursor of what was probably to come later.

“Hot, right?” Nuna asks looking up with bright mischievous eyes.

Hound is too dumbfounded to speak. She laughs at his silent nod, reaching up and ruffling his hair. She’s less shy now then she’d been earlier, more relaxed and less guarded.

“We’ll get you there.”

Hound stumbles through the next few minutes as she instructs him on the quick-quick-slow steps the music called for. His hands rest high in her waist. It’s frustrating and he knows his nerves are making it worse. Ryk’s chuckle from behind doesn’t do a thing to help.

“Easy on her toes trooper!”

Hound turns his head to bark something at his brother but Nuna’s hand grips his jaw and turns it back to her.

“Be a good boy and pay attention-“ she winces as he steps on her foot, “to me.”

If he wasn’t so embarrassed, he may have noticed how funny it was to have such an unintimidating creature ordering him around but his cheeks are hot and he’s mentally berating himself.

“Hound?” She dips a little lower to catch his eyes that are busy following their feet. “Look at me, not my feet.” She beams when he does as she’s asked and he finds he gets a little lost in the pale blue of her eyes and the way her dark lashes fan across her cheeks each time she blinks.

“That’s much better,” she praises. Her hands slip down over his and press them lower. His pinkies span over the top of the round ass he’s been admiring the better part of the night, while the others rest around her hips.

“You’ll be able to feel me better like this.”

Yeah, he could certainly feel a lot of her this way. No doubt about that. The music slows and transitions to the next song and Nuna makes a sound of approval. The beat is more sedate and the lyrics, though in a language he’s not familiar with, have a sensuality to them that is unmistakable. Nuna’s boot taps at his own.

“Wider stance,” she orders, nodding to herself when he complies. Hound watches as she steps closer, nearly straddling one of his slightly bent legs. His focus is honed in like a laser as she twists her hips slowly. He can feel the bunch and release of muscles in his hands and tries to mimic and mirror what she’s doing, adding the steps tentatively.

Her voice comes out as a purr. “That’s so much better already.”

Her hand slips behind his head and pulls him close til his forehead is pressed to hers. “Now stop thinking and just go with it.”

It’s a novel way to learn something, but it works. Like any other flash training he’s completed something suddenly clicks. The steps become second nature the movements of his own pelvis against hers become smoother.

“You're a good teacher. Has anyone told you that?”

Nuna looks away, hiding a blossom of pink high on her cheeks. It’s Hound’s turn to take control. Fingers trail up her back and tangle in her hair, turning her face back to him.

“You need to learn to take a compliment, Mesh’la.”

Her eyes go wide. Glitter strategically placed on her face catches the flashing lights and sparkles.

“I’m not- I’m not beautiful,” she stutters out, her body falling off rhythm for a second before he takes the lead and guides her back to it.

Couples press in around them, the temperature rising steadily. Hound barely notes it in shock of his own. It doesn’t even register that she’s translated the sweet endearment- a tactic troopers had learned would win women over in a heartbeat. He’s more awestruck that she didn’t see how amazing she was. Not just pretty - though he felt the term fit perfectly.

“Of course you are and fun and nice and-“ her finger presses to his lips stopping anymore words from slipping from his mouth.

“You’re embarrassing me,” she whines playfully, trying to lean back. Hound reels her back in.

“These are things you should hear all the time.” Alcohol and a little bit of confidence from picking up a new skill leaves him feeling a little bolder then he’s been.

“Well that’s definitely one opinion.”

Hound leans in close, nosing next to her ear as her body rolls against his. Her shampoo smells like candy, like something he’d crave time and again after having it. “I think it’s a pretty important one.”

Nuna sighs dreamily, wrapping one leg behind his. His hand drops down to her thigh, feeling where the fabric of her skirt rode up. “So it would seem. Hound-“

He gives her thigh a gentle squeeze. The feel of her so close is more intoxicating than the boozy drinks she’d brought them.

Her voice isn’t any higher than a gentle whisper but this close he can hear desire lacing it. He wasn’t the most experienced of all his vode but he’d certainly had a few… educational ones and what he lacked in experience he had the likes of Ryk and Rule to make up for in reconnaissance.

It’s hard to imagine things not going further with the way she presses against him. The mental images become that much more clear when he releases her leg and she turns in his grip, leaning back against his chest the way he’d seen Tully and Ryk earlier. The way her round ass presses against him makes him both despise and thank the codpiece of his armor. It’s gotten uncomfortably tight, but it was still doing wonders to hide that fact.

One of Nuna’s hands slides up and around the back of his neck and he lets his own trail from her wrist on down her arm before finding its home on her hip. Tiny goosebumps breakout along the trail his fingers leave. When her body rolls next, his stays locked with hers. She tips her head back and glances up at him.

He’s going to lean in and kiss her. With her head upside down. In the middle of a crowded dance floor. Where everyone can see.

The Maker must take pity on him because that’s no way to kiss a girl for the first time and certainly not how he wanted the first of (hopefully) many to go. The song cuts out just as his nose brushes against hers and a soft puff of her breath tickles over his chin. She smells sweet and the honeyed candy scent sticks with him as she pulls away. He wants to know what her mouth tastes like, what her skin tastes like, what her-

“Not bad for your first time,” she hums with big blown pupils as she turns and presses her hands into his chest.

“I’ll take your word on it.”

“Nunz?” Tully slides behind Nuna, bending to rest her chin on the shorter woman’s shoulder. “Imma drag this one down to the arcade a level down.” She glances back at Ryk who is smiling like the Tooka who ate the Tik-Tak.

“He says he’s got excellent aim and there’s a stuffed wampa I want. You two wanna come?”

It feels like Tully is asking a different question but Hound isn’t sure how to decipher it. Ryk looks smug, like he already knows the correct answer.

Nuna’s pale blue eyes flash to him for a split second. “I think I’m getting tired. I’ll probably head home in the not so distant future.”

Hound’s heart sinks. Time was not something he had a lot of extra sitting around. He wanted to spend it with her. He’s feeling the creeping of disappointment when he catches Tully’s smile lengthening from ear to ear.

“Hound? You wouldn’t mind seeing her home, right? I’d feel so much better knowing she wasn’t by herself after that run in earlier.”

——-

Nuna hadn’t foreseen this, sitting in the backseat of a speeder taxi pressed against the far door with Hound next to her and a pair of strangers sucking face next to him.

He lets out an irritated puff, the sound coming out augmented through his bucket, as the Rodian and Twi’lek to his right continue to go at it.

“They’re really… enjoying themselves, huh?”

The sound he makes has more humor in it. “Yeah, I wasn’t familiar with Rodian mating habits, but it didn’t mean I needed a crash course.” Hound jerks forward, his bucket coming within centimeters of her own head as she snickers. If looks could kill, she’s sure the one he shoots over his shoulder at the unaware couple would have them both in an early grave.

“Just ignore them.” She offers.

“Yeah? How do I do that?.”

Nuna bites at her lip trying to hold back a smile. “Pay more attention to me.”

The way his helmet quirks, to the side and just a little back, is comical.

It’s another one of those things she’s finding she really does like about Hound. He made her smile. Not even just smile. He made her laugh like she hadn’t in ages and not the sexy girly giggle. No, these were full on belly laughs that made the abs, hidden deep down under a layer of fluff, ache.

The game Tully had been playing hadn’t been subtle and Nuna loved her for it. She hadn’t wanted the night to end after a drink and some dancing. She wanted more. It was exhilarating and nerve wracking in the best possible way. It left her tummy full of butterflies. It had been a let down when the other couple had piled into the taxi behind them. It only got worse when the noises had started.

Nuna wonders, not for the first time, if Hound was blushing as hard under his helmet as she was sitting next to him.

“More attention?” There’s a distinct humor in his voice. The sound of it is warm and inviting. “Maybe something like this?”

Nuna feels the soft nudge of his gloved hand against her own fist balled at her side. She wills her nervous fingers to relax. The second they do Hound is slipping and twining his in between them.

Did all clones radiate so much heat? Nuna can feel the burn of his skin through the thick tactical gloves he wore. Was he warm like that all over? The thought makes her cheeks burn.

“I think that’s a good start,” she murmurs, glancing down at their interlocked hands and avoiding his eyes.

“Looking at me would make it better,” he says quietly, nudging her chin up with his free hand.

It takes a deep breath and another minute of thought before Nuna has it in her to look. His helmet is cocked just slightly to the side and she can imagine him smiling underneath it, all toothy and smug.

“I’m looking now.”

“Looking beautiful.”

A laugh sputters past her lips despite his earnest tone. How was she even supposed to respond to that? He was legitimately being serious and she’s almost afraid to look in the mirror because the person he was seeing really couldn’t be the same one she saw staring back at her everyday. So, instead of thinking harder on it or, you know, accepting the compliment, she does what she’s always done best - deflect.

“Do you wanna maybe come up for some caf?”

“That sounds really good.”

And it was really as easy as that.

The amorous pair next them finds the ability to separate for long enough to give the cabbie notice of their building. It’s a relief to be free of them. Hound moves allowing them more room but his hand doesn’t leave hers. He uses it to bring her along with him, moving her away from the door but allowing no real distance between them. Nuna approves, leaning her head against his armored shoulder as the taxi dips back into the sky lanes.

“That can’t be comfortable”

“It’s not so bad,” she manages, trying to stifle a yawn, “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m aiming for best here Mesh’la.” Not only can she hear his warm voice but she can hear it rumble through his body. Paired with the soft circles his thumb is making in the back of her hand Nuna feels the first traitorous pulls of sleep begin to take hold.

“M’not beautiful,” she hums without any real fight to it.

“Y’are too.” He mimics her speech pattern and Nuna laughs quietly.

“I’m not gonna be able to fight you on this, am I?”

He surprises her when he turns his head and rests his helmet for just a second against the mess of hair he can reach. “You can try. I’m always up for a challenge.”

She should come up with something sassy or witty to say but she’s literally lost for words. Her mind is a perfect blank. So instead she snuggles into plastoid and enjoys the attention.

It’s only another few minutes before the taxi speeder is pulling up to her landing platform and the pair are stepping out. Nuna slips her hand from Hounds long enough to hand a few credits to the driver.

When she turns back to him, Hound is giving her a bewildered look or what she assumes to be bewildered behind the dark visor of his bucket.

“This isn’t the building you had me drop you off at the day we met.”

“Oh… oh! Yeah. That?” Nuna offers him a shy smile. “We don’t let strange men know where we live.”

“We?” If anything, the bewilderment only seems to intensify.

“Women silly,” she pauses as he reaches up to pop the seal on his helmet. She most assuredly does not ogle him as he pulls it off and tucks it under his arm. Her heart definitely doesn’t start beating double time when he runs a hair through the messy strip of hair atop his head and shoots her a sweet smile, waiting for her to continue.

Stars, she was in trouble with this one.

“I guess you really don’t know? You gotta play it safe. Stranger danger and all that? Anything ringing any bells?”

Hound shrugs, good-natured smile firmly in place. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to worry about the dangerous sort. Unless…” his voice turns teasing as he reaches for her hands. “Ms. Skii, do you have anything unsavory planned for me?”

Nuna doesn’t resist when he laces their fingers and draws her in.

“Do I look dangerous to you?”

“You have no idea how dangerous you really are,” he says softly, tipping his head toward her.

Nuna tips her chin up, rises to meet him. Her eyes flutter shut at the warm breath so close that it tickles her lips. Alas, what she assumes to be the best first kiss of her life is thwarted by the blare of a speeders horn.

Because they were still on the platform.

Jumping back she shoots the driver a look that she hoped spoke volumes. She thinks maybe it’s the arms crossed over her chest that has the driver suddenly gesturing in apology but a glance over her shoulder shows an extremely unhappy clone trooper. Her look hadn’t killed, but a few more seconds and maiming was possible from Hound’s

Nuna nearly laughs before latching onto his arm and pulling him into the building and toward the turbo lift. It’s cute because he comes along without any real trying on her part and by the time the lift is in motion, the mean mug has melted back into a grin.

The nerves don’t hit until the lift has stopped. She hasn’t brought a man to this apartment. Ever.

After Alistar she’d made a promise to herself of a fresh start and Tully had said there were openings in her building and the price was right and then natural lighting was to die for and-

It’s been two years since she’s brought a man home and the thought is suddenly terrifying as she leads the way down the hall. Hound is pressed in close. One short step and he’d crash into her back. She wasn’t ready for this. As much as she thought she was, as much as she thought she could bring him home and fool around and do all the fun, reckless things that any single woman her age would be up for doing with such a fine specimen of a man has her bordering on panic with each step she takes.

By the time she’s reaching for the keypad her hand is trembling enough that Hound notices.

“Is something wrong?” Everything about his presence is warm, from the heat he radiates to the rich deep timbre of his voice. It should be perfect, but Nuna just can’t shake her nerves.

“No- I mean. I’ve never brought someone home before for… you know…” She flinches as she turns around and presses her back to the door.

Hound’s brows furrow together before he softens, “For caf? I mean, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to go through the trouble. I’m fine with tea.”

Nuna lets out a shaky laugh, “You nerfherder! You know what I meant-“

“I did- I do and I want you to know I didn’t come here expecting anything from you. I just wanted to spend some more time with you and, if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll say goodnight right now.”

“You're serious?” Nuna asks after a moment's pause, “I mean you’re not going to hit hyperspace trying to get away from me if I don’t want to sleep with you?”

The look of offense that darkens his features is instant. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of guy you think I am, but” he takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face. His voice gentles, “I like you. I get it. There’s been some scum in your past and I don’t know what you had to go through but know this. I’m not him.”

“Hound, I’m sorry.” He holds his hand up.

“All I ask is that, whether it’s today or tomorrow are a standard month from now, you give me a chance.”

“My turn to be honest,” she says quietly “I’m out of caf but if you still want to I’ve got a comfy couch and a few bottles of ne’tra gal chilled. We can watch something on the Holonet?”

“Ne’tra gal. Like real Mandalorian Ne’tra gal?”

Nuna shrugs as she half turns to finish punching in the access code. The door slides open and the pair enter.

“Yeah, I get it from Ordo’s. Near little Corellia?”

———

Hound feels like he’s gotta be the luckiest trooper that’s this side of wild space. He’s got a bottle of sweet Mandalorian ale in one hand and the other gently stroking the hair of the prettiest girl he's ever met. Nuna looks up at him and gives him a small smile as the next round of commercials start up.

“What?” He takes another quick pull of his Ne’tra gal.

“Just remembering that I’d been about to kiss you earlier.”

“Yeah. Shame that speeder pulled up and ruined it.” He sets the near empty bottle on the end table. Nuna’s eyes flash mischievously. He’d been really worried when they’d gotten to her door earlier that she was going to send him packing immediately. It’s not like he wouldn’t have left the second she said goodnight but he’d hoped, and the Maker had seen fit to give him a small blessing.

They’d been watching and laughing over Holocomedies for over an hour when she’d tucked in close, wiggling slowly up under his arm. She felt right against him, even through the armor he’d refused to shed. If she was nervous just to have him there, he wasn’t about to do anything to encourage further anxiety. The armor stayed on even though the thought of feeling her pressed against his actual flesh and blood body made him a little dizzy.

“Hound?” She cranes her neck up to look at him.

He hums quietly, fingers ghosting over and through her hair. He’s struck again by how soft everything about her was. He wasn’t used to soft. Not on Kamino and not here on Coruscant. Even Grizzer, though he wasn’t complaining, came with a rough and tough hide.

“Yeah?” She squirms out from under his arm and turns on her knees facing him.

“If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“Is this you asking, Mesh’la?”

By Fett and the Maker he hoped this was her asking. Nuna’s chin bobs up and down and she bites back a grin.

He can’t deny one of his own as he leans in slowly.

Her lips are soft as his fall against hers, a test run as his hand cradles the back of her head. She’s soft like flowers though he’s never had much experience with flowers. He should bring her flowers. Something just as special as she is, maybe those little ones he’s seen that smell like summer rain and sunshine.

Nuna sighs softly and Hound opens his eyes to see hers still shut and a pink flush creeping into her round cheeks.

He pecks her again. And again.

Soft feather light brushes that draw more soft sighs from her each time he pulls away. Innocent, teasing brushes of his mouth against hers that have a tension drawing tight in his belly.

When he does finally pull away it takes a moment to realize the trembling he’s feeling is coming from his own hands.

Nuna’s pale eyes flutter open and he’s trapped. A shy smile is tucked away at the corner of her mouth.

“Again please?”

Yeah, he really was the luckiest son of a rancor this side of wild space.

#sergeant hound #sergeant hound/oc #hound/oc #tcw #the clone wars

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delightfully-difficult-pirate · 3 years

Text

Kittens for Quarantine (1/2) (CSJJ Day 16)

A/N: I originally came up with this idea during lockdown in 2020, when YouTube channels like Kitten Academy and Kitten Lady were essential to my sanity (what little of it there is). I hoped to have it finished in time for today, but it turned into more of a beast that I anticipated, so I’m afraid I’ll have to post it in two parts. Part 2 will come in Feb, as to not distract from any of the wonderful CSJJ pieces scheduled for the second half of January.

Thank you @csjanuaryjoy for all your hard work organizing this event!!!

Trigger warning: Pandemic.

Summary: During a storm, a stray cat runs into Emma’s home. Killian, Storybrooke’s new shelter manager, comes to help her out but some more unexpected arrivals mean Emma and her son are going to need a crash course on cat and kitten care.

AO3

~*~

Arms laden with bags of groceries and rain pelting her face, Emma Swan struggled to get the key into the lock of her front door. Wet strands of her blonde hair stuck to her face, obscuring her vision even more.

Just as she was about to give up and call her 12 year-old son, Henry, to come open the door for her, the key slipped into the lock. Emma shouldered open the door before dropping the bags onto the floor so they held it open.

"Henry, come start putting the groceries away," She yelled into the large house.

Too large of a house for just the two of them, honestly, but Emma had fallen in love with the blue Queen Anne Revival-style home when her realtor first gave them a tour, even though it was a little of a fixer-upper. At over 100-years-old, that was to be expected. It had been a little out of her price range until the City of Storybrooke helped her secure a better mortgage deal, as long as she agreed to restore the home to its former glory.

The arrival of her help was preceded by loud thumps as Henry ran down the stairs. He flashed her a grin as he grabbed a couple of bags and hauled them to the kitchen.

With a shake, Emma prepared herself to brave the raging storm once again to retrieve the remaining bags. She'd hoped to be home before it started, but Leroy's van broke down in the middle of Main Street and she'd needed to help divert traffic until the tow truck could get there. She was lucky, she reminded herself as she loaded her arms up with bags, that Storybrooke was such a calm town and rarely needed its Sheriff for anything serious enough to keep her from getting home on time. A far cry from her years working as a bail bonds agent in Boston.

A streak of lightning blinded Emma for a moment as she made her way toward her house, followed shortly after by a large crash of thunder. She hoped that the storm wouldn't damage any powerlines. She'd just bought two pints of ice-cream... which were sitting on the kitchen counter, melting, with no Henry in sight.

With a frown, Emma kicked the door shut. It wasn't like Henry to abandon a job half done, nor to abuse ice-cream in such away. After dropping the bags on the kitchen floor and her reusable fabric mask in the basket marked "Dirty", she washed her hands before going in search of her son.

"Kid, where’d you go?" she called out.

Emma almost missed his reply thanks to another crash of thunder but she was just able to hear enough to determine he was upstairs, and she found him in her bedroom on the top floor. He was crouched on the floor and looking underneath her bed. Henry looked up when she entered and told her, "I saw something small run into the house while you were outside and followed it in here. I think it’s a cat."

Emma blinked in shock. A cat?

She joined Henry on the floor and peered under her bed. A pair of yellow eyes set in a colorful face stared back at her.

Wide-eyed, she sat back on her heels. There was definitely a cat under her bed. Not an ideal situation but it was a hundred times better than the other likely hood, a raccoon.

"Umm... I guess we should call David?"

Henry nodded in agreement. Emma's good friend and Deputy was the head volunteer for the local animal shelter and would be able to arrange for someone to come and get their interloper. After she shooed Henry back downstairs to finish putting away the groceries, Emma called David.

He answered with a cheerful "Emma!"

“A cat ran into the house and is hiding under my bed," she blurted out.

There was a pause before David let out a boisterous laugh. "Sorry, sorry," he said, sounding breathless, "that was not what I was expecting."

"Neither was I," she replied.

David chuckled at her sardonic tone. "I'll give Killian a call. He'll be able to coordinate someone to come help you out."

"Who?"

"Killian Jones, the new Shelter Manager the City hired. He started about six weeks ago, not long before lockdown started."

Emma vaguely remembered a discussion during a City Council meeting last year about a grant from the state to expand the shelter, which also allowed for more full-time staff to be hired. But she didn't recall anything on the topic after that. Of course, she could barely remember what happened last week since 2020 was so chaotic.

"I don't think I've met him yet," she admitted. Normally, Emma made a point to introduce herself to new people who moved to town. But with social interaction outside your household being discouraged due to the pandemic, she wasn't doing so.

"He used to help run a not-for-profit rescue group in NYC," David told her. “Grew tired of city life, though, and wanted a change."

Given the current situation in NYC, he was lucky to have moved to Maine when he did, Emma mused.

"Anyways, I'll give him your number so he can reach out."

After a quick thanks, Emma ended the call. With a sigh, she stretched out on her stomach and eyed her unexpected guest. The cat hadn't moved and continued to stare back at her. Its face was a mix of black, orange and white. The pupils of its eyes looked fully dilated and its ears were flat and sticking out sideways, which worried Emma until a quick internet search informed her that the cat was probably anxious or afraid and unlikely to become aggressive unless they began to feel threatened. Which would probably be the case if Emma tried to remove the cat from its current hiding spot on her own. As much as she didn't want to invite a possible stranger into her home, much less her bedroom, she also didn't want to risk getting bit and/or scratched, and having to make a visit to the hospital as a result.

Resigned to waiting for the animal expert, Emma heaved herself up off the floor. She left the cat trapped in her bedroom and made her way downstairs. Henry already had most of the groceries away, except those that needed to go in places he couldn't reach. Though with the way he was growing, it wouldn't be long before she would need to find a new hiding spot for her secret stash of chocolate.

Her phone rang around 10 minutes later, vibrating loudly on the kitchen table. Since it was a number she didn't recognize, she hoped it was Killian Jones or another shelter volunteer who could help her out.

"Is this Emma Swan?" A surprisingly accented voice replied to her casual greeting. At her affirmative, her caller continued, "this is Killian; David told me you have a bit of a problem with a stray cat.''

"You could say that. It ran inside and has taken up residence under my bed."

A deep chuckle reverberated across the line. "Probably seeking shelter from the storm.”

Honestly, Emma couldn't blame the cat for wanting inside where it was warm and dry. She'd done the same during her time on the streets, even going so far as to break into empty houses when desperate.

"I'd rather not call out any of the volunteers in this weather, but it'll be around an hour until I can make it over to help you out. Will that be alright?"

Emma's nose scrunched in annoyance at having to wait, but reminded herself that this wasn't exactly an emergency. After telling Killian that would be fine, they ended the call and Emma text him her address.

To pass the time, Emma set about making a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup for Henry and herself. They were doing the dishes, her washing and him drying, when there was a knock on the door. They both donned clean masks before she pulled the door open and she found herself looking into a pair of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. They and some black eyebrows were all that was visible of the man's face, since he wore a beanie pulled low over his forehead and a colorful paw-print patterned mask.

"Emma Swan, I hope?" The man – Killian - asked. She nodded and quickly invited him inside as lightning streaked across the sky. She didn't want another startled animal running inside after all.

Killian removed a wet rain jacket, plaid scarf, and beanie, hanging them on the coat tree by the door. His dark hair was flat against his head thanks to the beanie until he ran a hand through it, mussing the strands until they were casually messy. He wore a dark button-up under an equally dark vest – who still wore vests - with the top few buttons undone, revealing a decent amount chest hair and the chain of a long necklace. This was paired with tight, black jeans that hugged a trim waist above sturdy looking boots.

Emma wasn't sure what she was expecting someone who ran an animal shelter to look like, but sexy punk-rock professor wasn't it. When her eyes returned to Killian’s face, she realized that he must have been aware that she’d been checking him out because she was met with a raised brow and amused blue eyes. She’d bet money that he was smirking beneath his mask as well.

“The cat is upstairs,” she announced before turning around to hide the blush she could feel making its way up her neck. She listened to Henry regale Killian with the tale of the cat’s sudden arrival as she led the way upstairs. At her door, she paused.

“Excuse the mess. We only moved in a few weeks ago,” Emma murmured, suddenly feeling the need to explain the piles of boxes still scattered around her room.

Killian’s soft laugh sent a shiver down her back. “Don’t worry lass, I won’t judge. Been in my new place for nearly two months and still have a fair few boxes left myself.”

With a sharp nod, she let Killian into her room, but directed Henry to remain in the hall. She stood back as Killian set down a small cat carrier she hasn’t noticed before and kneeled next to her bed, peering under it. She tried not to watch as his jeans hugged his shapely ass even more than before.

Killian raised his head and looked at her over his shoulder. “Lass, there is no cat under there.”

“What?” Emma immediately dropped down and looked for herself, but Killian was right. There was no cat underneath her bed anymore. She jumped up and looked around for any other places where a cat could go. The door to her ensuite bathroom was closed, as was the one to her closet.

“She’s probably behind some of the boxes.”

They started checking the various nooks and corners created by the haphazard piles of boxes. She was about to pick-up a partially open box labeled “blankets” when she heard a small squeak come from within it. Startled, she slowly lifted the flap of the box to peer inside.

“Umm…” was all she could initially get out. “I found the cat.”

Killian appeared at her shoulder and let out a surprised “oh!” when he looked down. Inside the box was not only the cat from earlier, which Emma could now see was a calico, but also two small, squirming kittens. One was black with little white paws and the other looked to be a calico like the mother.

“Look at you,” Killian crooned at the cat as he folded back all the flaps of the box. “Such a good mom, finding somewhere safe to have your babies.”

Emma marveled at how small the kittens were and couldn’t bring herself to be upset that they’d been born on one of her favorite knit blankets. Everyone one, cats included, deserved a safe, comfortable place to give birth.

Killian slowly reached his hand into the box. The mom cat watched attentively but didn’t make any move to stop Killian as he carefully grabbed the black kitten and lifted it partway out of the box. It let out a high pitched squeak and flailed its small limbs as Killian checked it over. As he did so, Emma noticed that he was still wearing a glove on his left hand and that it appeared oddly stiff.

“I think that one is a little boy,” he whispered, placing the kitten back at a nipple to nurse. He repeated the processes with the calico kitten, who he declared it was most likely a girl.

“Male calicos,” he told her in a calm, soft voice, poking around the mother cat’s belly as he did so, “are extremely rare and only happen because of a genetic abnormality.”

Emma didn’t know enough about genetics to really understand why that would happen, but she would definitely look it up later. After another minute, Killian pulled his hand from the box and sat back. “It doesn’t feel like she has anymore kittens in her, so these two are probably it.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? Less for the shelter to take care of.”

Killian’s hand rose and made to rub across his face, obviously a habit, but he caught himself before he touched his mask. “I’m afraid the kittens complicate things.”

Emma sighed. Of course it would.

“The shelter isn’t set up to care for cats with kittens this small,” he informed her, “most aren’t, so they rely on people willing to foster the families until they can be adopted out.”

Killian scratched behind his ear as he continued, “Storybrooke doesn’t have a large foster network to begin with and very few are willing to care for mom cats with new kittens. Those that can are already doing so and I don’t think any of them will have space for more for another couple of weeks.”

This wasn’t completely new information. David often complained about the lack of foster families in town and how often they needed to reach out to nearby organizations for help. It was one of the main reasons David convinced the City to apply for the state grant program to improve the shelter.

“Can you take them?” She suggested, hopeful.

With a sad look in his eyes, Killian shook his head. “I have two orphan litters at home, one of which is only three weeks old. I wouldn’t be able to provide an appropriate level of care for any of them if I took in another.”

The idea of orphan kittens hit Emma right in the heart. Orphans, no matter the species, were always a sensitive topic for her because of her past. She studied the two wiggling kittens nursing away in front of her for a moment. Killian was regarding her with an unreadable expression on his face when she looked back over at him.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take care of these three until I can arrange another home?”

Emma blinked in shock. “What? I don’t know how to take care of a normal cat, much less one with kittens!” She exclaimed.

“It’s not that hard, really, I promise,” he held his hands up in front of him to convey his honesty at her suspicious look. “Leto here does all the hard work. You’ll mostly just be feeding her, checking the kitten’s weights to make sure they’re getting enough milk, and socializing them a bit.”

“Leto? You’ve already named the cat?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed and scratched behind his ear. “Aye, Leto. She was a Greek goddess and one of Zeus’ lovers. Her story came to mind earlier and the name stuck.”

Incredulous, Emma could only stare at Killian, who flushed under her scrutiny.

“What is her story?” Emma eventually asked, curious.

“Leto is considered the goddess of motherhood or a protector of the young. But she is mostly known for being the mother of the goddess Artemis and god Apollo. But when Leto first became pregnant, Zeus’ wife, Hera was enraged and made all lands shun her to prevent her from having anywhere to give birth. Eventually she came upon the newly created island Delos, which was not yet attached to the earth and therefore wasn’t land. There she was able to finally give birth.”

Even Emma had to admit that the name was appropriate. “So the girl is Artemis and the boy Apollo?”

Killian nodded.

Emma shrugged. “Works for me. Now, how do you socialize a kitten? I imagine it doesn’t involve signing them up for extracurricular activities,” she joked.

“Handling them in order to get them accustomed to it. Basically playing with kittens, but with purpose.” From the crinkles next to his eyes, Killian was grinning under his mask.

“Won’t that make her mad?” Emma nodded at Leto, who was currently licking Apollo’s head.

Killian shook his head. “She let me handle them without a problem, so I doubt she’ll object to you doing so. Why don’t you give it a try?” He encouraged.

After taking a fortifying breath, Emma slowly reached into the box. Like before, Leto watched Emma’s hand intently but did nothing to stop her from grasping little Artemis and lifting her up. The kitten let out a squeak that caused her mom to lean forward and sniff at her for a moment, but they both settled down a moment later. Emma held the kitten for another minute before setting her back down.

There was pride in Killian’s voice when he told her, “She trusts you.”

Her own voice held a touch of awe when she replied, “I guess she does.”

They sat and watched the little family of three for a couple of minutes before Killian broke the silence to ask, “So, will you take care of them? At least for a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah, I guess I can.”

An exuberant “Yes!” came from the door of her room and Emma looked up to see Henry watching from where her door was opened a couple of inches. A door she distinctly remembered closing.

Killian gracefully rose from the floor and immediately held out his hand to help her before he remembered the “no touching” rules they all lived under now. He pulled his hand back with a frustrated growl, the sound of which did wonderful things to Emma’s nether regions. She clenched her legs together as she stood, inwardly curing that such a simple sound turned her on. She’d have to deal with that later.

“I’m going to grab some supplies from my truck that you can use,” Killian told her as they left her room. “Can you two get a medium sized box and some towels or blankets together?”

With a nod, she and Henry collected the items in the empty room Emma intended to one day turn into an office. When Killian returned, he cut a large hole in the front box and then a small one at the back, through which he threaded the cord of a heating pad. He added a folded towel along the bottom before placing the entire thing within a large dog crate. An old blanket, small litter box, and water and food dishes went in as well.

At each step Killian explained what he was doing and why, and she watched as Henry soaked up the information like a sponge. “The heating pad needs to be plugged into a secondary thermostat in order to keep it from becoming too hot.”

Soon the whole set up was ready for its new inhabitants and Emma carefully carried the box with Leto and her kittens down from her bedroom. At Killian’s direction, she placed Artemis and Apollo into the new box. Soon her kitten’s squeaks drew Leto’s attention and when she hopped out of the blanket box and went into the new one to retrieve them, they shut the crate door behind her. She paced around the crate for a moment before going into the box and curling up with her babies.

Killian draped a large blanket over the crate, “Its best to leave her be for a bit to let her get settled in.”

The cat crisis taken care of, the three of them made their way back downstairs. Henry immediately started texting photos of Leto and her kittens to all of his friends. They were, she was quickly informed, insanely jealous.

“I’m sure they are now. Send them some photos of you scooping the litterbox tomorrow and I bet they’ll be less envious,” she informed her son, which earned a chuckle from Killian.

He chimed in with, “People often forget the less glamourous side of having pets and how much work it can be.” He’d definitely know all about that, running a shelter.

As Killian looped his scarf around his neck, he asked, “I’d like to come back tomorrow to check-in on Leto and I’ll also bring some more cat food, if that is alright.”

Emma nodded, thrilled that they would still have his help in taking care of Leto and her kittens. She was also glad that it meant that she would see Killian again, as ill-advised as socializing was right now. Not only was he handsome, even with half his face covered, but he was a pleasant person. Obviously caring, given what he did, and he had a sense of humor.

“I left a cheat-sheet upstairs that has what you need to do and how, as well as what to look out for. But if you have any questions, any at all, you can call me,” Killian assured her, “Day or night.”

As much as she would love to hear what Killian’s voice sounded like when he first woke up, she didn’t want to rely on him too heavily. He did have a full-time job and two litters of kittens to care for, after all.

“Any other resources you recommend we check out?”

For some reason, her questioned caused Killian to blush. “Oh… um…” he stuttered. “I actually have a small YouTube channel about pet fostering, specifically cats, that you could check out.”

Watch video of Killian playing with kittens? No way was she going to pass that up. “I’ll definitely check it out. What is the channel called?”

If possible, Killian’s already flush skin turned even more read.

“It’s KillyKat.”

~*~

A/N: See you in Feb!

#csjj2021 #csjj 2021 #Captain swan ff #csff #cs ff au #Lee Writes #KforQ #Captain Swan

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gildedmuse · 4 years

Note

do you like any of the one piece manga colorspreads? if yes, which ones?

I typed up a very long response to this, but since I'm still getting use to my new phone I managed to accidentally close the window.

Here's a outline:

I only started the series a little over a year ago because all my siblings watched it and I wanted in on that sweet bonding time. I didn't even expect to like it honestly, though they changed fairly quickly. I have plans to read the manga, but I'm still working through the series (what I post on this blog is pretty much where I am in the show more or less.

Since I've never read the manga I have no fucking clue what these things are or if they have some kind of deeper meaning. I barely know what chapter or arc they're from.

I totally have favorites. Some of them have Zoro in them so obviously.

Strawhat Story Time

Honestly, this has to be canon, right? If it isn't it needs to be. I want Robin to take out a book and read the rest of the crew to sleep everytime they are stuck on an island for the night. Of course, I have no idea what she's reading since this is Nico Robin we're talking about; it could be an overly cutesy fairy tale adventure, a dry government approved text on the history of the Grand Line, or just a book of the most gruesome deaths ever recorded (I hope she switches it up every Island or so) but I'd like to think which ever of the possible options Brook always accompanies here with an appropriate backing sound track.

Meanwhile you have Usopp and Chopper looking totally enrapt. Which makes sense. Usopp, of course, loves a good story. I know he's an amazing marksman and all, but part of me still wishes his role on the ship was the chronicler of their adventures or maybe just storyteller. And baby brother Chopper is still innocent enough to fill with wonder as the events unfold, worried the scary looking big dog and kitty cat will never get along and be friends like he so wants.

Then there is Nami, just content to listen while Robin does her thing. Honestly, she's probably just happen no one is actively trying to kill them at the moment. Plus they're camping which saves money so, yeah, she happy.

Neither Sanji nor Franky will be able to tell you what the story is about after she finishes. Sanji because apparently being read to like a child is a big turn on for him. Franky because, well, poor guy is already half asleep. His eyes are open but only just. It gives off big team mom and dad vibes. Franky probably spent his day fixing the ship, watching and playing with the three youngest brothers, keeping the older two from killing each other, and helping Nami as needed. Dude is exhausted, but he's trying to stay up and enjoy this little family moment.

Unlike Luffy and Zoro who are both dead asleep. Neither of them seem like big bedtime story guys. Luffy passes out instantly anyway and is really only interesting in stories if they can tell him something fun to do. Zoro doesn't even care about that. Stories are either are up in which case why bother or they've already happened I'm which case who cares?

Knights Of The Sunny's Dinner Table

A lot of these I like just got the weird AU settings. Like medieval king Luffy surrounded by his knights (plus whatever Nami is suppose to be.) A few observations:

- Usopp'd knight outfit makes him look sort of like Hercules'n and is perfect.

- Brook has a lute why not just make him the bard! Full metal plate armour is heavy. Brook doesn't have the muscle for that. he doesn't have muscles at all (yohohoho!)

- Chopper is fucking adorable

-. Zoro is obviously Luffy s personal knight and protector. Fight me on it. Love how his jolly roger is on his armour. I assume that means that even back then he fought three sword style.

Zoro Is ON A Cat

I just like this one okay? First, shout out to Usopp who looks completely balling. Second, did Zoro defeat a giant panther in a fightnjust so he could ride around on it? I think we all know he did.

That's like the first time I've seen him wear his bandana like that. I approve.

Rainbows And Rock N Roll

Hey, you guys remember that time the Strawhat started a band? No? Oh, right, that's because all recordings of them were destroyed for public safety reasons.

It makes so much sense to stick Luffy with symbols. Like yeah, of course he'd be in the band but how many instruments would you trust him with, really? Where as Usopp seems smart enough that he could easily learn guitar.

Zoro as the drummer also makes perfect sense. He gets to hit things real heard and he's like a steady presence on the crew. The only problem with this drawing? Why no third drumstick in his mouth. Do you coward. You should have gone three stick style.

Also I'd be all about a modern AU where these idiots start a band. And the only bar that will have them just happens to be the one a young medical student visits. He absolutely hates their music, it's loud and annoying and they don't seem to practice or even have a plan, they just get up on stage and chaos ensues. And people absolutely love them. He doesn't understand and yet.... He keeps coming back, every Friday like clockwork.

If nothing else the obnoxious boy with the symbols whose role seems to be bouncing around stage, hanging them together whenever he feels, rallying the crowd and random back up vocals has some amazing sexual chemistry with the silent drummer guy in the back, the one to rocking green hair probably because he thinks it makes him look punk. Like.... It's almost frustrating when he hears girls swooning over them because come on. That can't all just be an act, right? What if they haven't realized it yet? What if they're just that unaware. Law would be more than happy to fill them in provided they thank him with a place in ghei- oh God how much has he had to drink tonight? Fuck he hates The Strawhat Pirates. It's not even a good band name!

ETA: New phone problem. It posted before I was done. I guess I'll do the other seven in a separate post.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #ask and you shall receive #one piece manga #one piece au #nico robin #tony tony chopper #usopp #nami #storytime with nico robin #The Strawhat Pirates #zolaw #zoroxlawxluffy #zolu #the zolaw au nobody asked for #ask and reply

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kiribakuhappiness · 4 years

Note

jirou kyouka?

My GIRL! I’ve grown to really like Jirou lately, she’s so badass!

- Favorite thing about them: Honestly, I like the way that she gets kinda flustered and embarrassed easily. Like, she’s such a hardcore girl, but she’s also kinda quiet and doesn’t actually really like being in the spotlight or the center of attention? Idk, that just makes me like her a lot, it gives her character a lot of depth!

- Least favorite thing about them: Hmmhmmhmmm, I guess not really anything?? She hasn’t really done anything that’s made me not like her at all!

- Brotp: Honestly, I’m a big fan of JirouBaku brotp and in my head JirouBakuTokoyami hang out a lot and when the Bakusquad is driving Bakugou crazy he’ll kinda force Jirou and Tokoyami (indirectly) to hang out with them all because he can kinda use them as shields when the bumbling band of buffoons is just being too rowdy and too much for him to take, cause like Jirou and Tokoyami are pretty chill and quiet so he’ll just wedge himself between them and the three of them will just silently watch as the Bakusquad goes nuts yelling about random shit and Jirou at some point will breath out in surprise, “Wow, they really are idiots.” And Bakugou will make an off-handed comment like, “Why do you think I always drag you fuckers into this.” and their first instinct is to be insulted because like pretty much everything Bakugou says is insulting until they realize what he means (that he likes bringing them along because he can settle between them and that’s Bakuspeak for him admitting that he likes their company). Yeah, I’ve got a weird soft spot for that trio of punks.

- Otp: hmhmmm, I know this is gonna be a lil controversial (I think), I know a lot of people like Jirou with Momo and I think they’re definitely cute and sweet together but I just have a big ole soft spot for KamiJirou - idk what it is just something about how exasperated he makes her and like, I can just picture them chilling together and listening to music and I just feel like they would be the perfect concert buddies and I have all these cute headcanons in my head for them so that’s my answer and I’m sticking to it! (Sorry JirouMomo, I really do like them together too!)

- Notp: M I N E T A

- Random headcanon: Jirou is the only person Bakugou will go clothes shopping with. She understands his obsession with baggy graphic tees and doesn’t pester him about being into the “alternative” look - doesn’t really pester him at all cause they actually don’t talk THAT much. Like whenever Jirou begrudgingly realizes that her combat boots are looking a little worse for wear or that her favorite shirt shrunk in the wash and she needs to go get another one despite the fact that she HATES clothes shopping, she’ll find herself outside Bakugou’s door. And she’ll be a little anxious like, fuck this is so stupid, before she forces herself to knock and he just appears all grumpy and Bakugou-like and she says, “I need clothes. So, are you gonna come with me or not?” And Bakugou is incredulous at first because what the fuck, no??? But then he kinda takes in her outfit and then he thinks about the last time Kirishima tried to take him clothes shopping and THEN he thinks about how Kaminari had relentlessly fucking teased him for hours last weekend when they’d all gone out about the fact that Bakugou has one (1) good red t-shirt and he’s like shit, fine, but of course he warns her not to be annoying and she thinks ‘I was gonna say to same thing to you’ but she doesn’t say it out loud because she’s not an IDIOT. And then they go shopping and at first it’s so horribly quiet and awkward and Jirou is regretting everything until Bakugou is picking up this t-shirt with a band that she likes on it and she’s all surprised and says that she likes them and he makes some douchebaggy remark like “their old stuff is so much better than their new stuff” and Jirou mocks him for it and then they like, actually maybe have a good time and both realize at the end of the day that they don’t actually hate each other?? And they got some cool new clothes and got to talk music so it’s a win/win, all in all a successful shopping trip that neither of them ever tells anyone else about because that would just be the worst LMFAO

- Song I associate with them: ugh, I don’t really have a specific song for Jirou either (which I HATE; I’ll have a playlist for her up soon though for sure), but I feel like she would like a lot of stuff from my like emo to punk rock to classical to maybe even irish folk rock - a very specific kind. Her music tastes are no doubt very refined, like even if she doesn’t LIKE certain types of music she can at least appreciate them for what they are.

- Favorite pic of them:

She’s so cute I love her so much!!!

#kyouka jirou #bnha jiro kyoka #jirou headcanons #asks

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all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Astrophile [Pt.9]

Chapter: Stardust

Summary: Bucky & Y/n spend the day apart, but find themselves struggling to make it through the day.

Warnings: Flirting. Fluff. Sweet Tony. Sweet Bucky. Slightly sad Bucky but only for a second!

A/N: Bucko is a little sad at the start, but I don’t consider it angsty at all. Progress babies. Progress. 😉Send me love because I’m needy, okay?! Plus all your comments make my day. Beta’d by the beautiful and talented @lokissoul I love you 3000.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

“What’s been going on with you lately?”

Bucky rolls the glass bottle between his palms and shrugs in answer, glancing up at whatever game was on behind the bar to avoid Steve’s probing glare. They have been in this pub for over an hour now, and Bucky has no idea what game he’s been pretending to watch, and he hasn’t heard a word Steve has said. As much as he wants to throw himself wholeheartedly into tonight, he can’t. Bucky hasn’t seen Y/n in over a week, he had to take an extra shift, so he’s had less time with Comet and with everything going today, neither he nor Y/n have had a minute to talk to each other. The last message he got from her was a quick good morning text, but he had a feeling she only sent it because he sent her a message first.

Today is not Bucky’s day.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bucky answers, distracted and withdrawn.

“We haven’t talked in weeks. I don't even know what’s going with you. Clint knows more about you than I do. You’re always glued to your phone waiting for a certain bookstore owner to call, and if you’re not on the phone with Y/n, you’re talking about her.”

“Nothing to talk about there, Stevie,” He sighs and tips his empty beer towards the bartender, slightly asking for another round. “We are friends. She’s been dating Tony for about a month. I don’t know. Seems to be going good. I guess their first date was amazing, and all that sappy love at first sight shit.”

“Not what I heard,” Steve mumbles against the lip of the bottle in his hands. “I heard she hated the restaurant and talked about you the whole date.”

“It wasn’t the whole date, and I don’t think she hated it.”

Bucky shifts restlessly in his seat, forcing himself to not look at Steve, using the bartender returning with their beers as his excuse – Steve isn’t buying it.

“Did – did she say that she did?”

Steve snorts at the stutter in the brunette’s voice and the painfully transparent way he’s been dodging Steve’s glances from the moment Y/n was mentioned. He nods his thanks to the bartender and spins around on his stool to face his friend. “Buck, come on. I’ve never seen you like this. Tell me what’s going on with her?”

“There’s nothing to say, man.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs, drumming his fingers against the bottle in his hands. “What if – Don’t give me that pissed off face. Just hear me out. What if the reason Y/n jumps up when you call or smiles every time you’re around, or I don’t know, spends all day talking to you and about you is that maybe, just maybe there’s something there for her, too.”

“Steve–”

“Hear me out, Buck.” Steve cuts him off before Bucky has time to tell him to shut up. “You have to know she is different. You’ve been different since she came along.”

Bucky hangs his head in defeat or annoyance he’s not even sure, and if he tightens his grip in the slightest there are going to be shards of broken glass all over the place.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Bucky asks, forcing as much annoyance into his voice as he can – he needs to be done with this conversation.

“Anything else besides her?”

“Alright,” Steve spins back around towards the bar, his leg bouncing nervously, and suddenly he blurts out, “Sam, and I are going to adopt a little boy, I think.��

Bucky chokes on his beer, spilling damn near half the bottle on the bartop making Steve grin.

“What?!” Bucky Shrieks. “You can’t just drop that shit on me.”

Steve shrugs looking complacent and not sorry in the least.

“When the hell did this happen?” Bucky asks, wiping himself and the bartop off.

“Remember Zoey from the gym?”

Bucky rolls his eyes but nods anyway.

“Well, it’s kind of her fault. We ran into her, and she was out with her nephew, and I don’t know honestly. Sam was talking to him and playing and…” Steve smiles and shakes his head.

“We are finally ready, I think.”

“That’s awesome, Stevie.” Bucky pats Steve on his back, drying his beer-soaked hand on his shirt. “You’re gonna be amazing parents. Ori might get a little jealous when she realizes she has to share her uncles, but I think it’s about damn time, to be honest.”

“She doesn’t have to share. I can make time for both of them. Babies sleep a lot, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “You don’t remember much from when Ori was a baby, do ya?”

“You’re a jerk,” Steve murmurs.

“Uh-huh. You gonna tell me why you didn’t tell me sooner, punk?”

“We started the process a few months ago, but I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure it was happening.”

“You’re sure now?” Bucky asks, not judging, purely out of curiosity.

“Yeah, I know we are,” Steve assured him, firm and sincere. “And, this isn’t because we are missing anything because we absolutely are not missing anything. Sam is all I could ever need, but – I don’t know to explain it. It was like once we met him everything kind of clicked, and it made everything brighter, more meaningful. Now that we know him-- Now that we know Oliver, I don’t think we could go back to a time without him.”

Bucky stares at the amber glass in his hand swallowing the knot in his throat, Steve nudges his elbow grinning widely, and Bucky forces the best smile he can muster.

“You know what I mean?” Steve asks, hope and excitement filling his voice. Bucky wants to be excited for them, and he is, but his mind is somewhere else tonight – somewhere wrapped in story pages and stardust.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I know what you mean, man.”

-------

Today has been a complete nightmare.

Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s just been a stressful, long day and the nightmare started last night. It began with her neighbors flooding her bedroom the night before and being forced to stay in Manhattan with Tony. She would have asked Natasha or… someone else who lived closer but Tony was dropping her off when they discovered the mess that was her apartment.

Thankfully Tony was there to save the day.

The incident, however, meant the bookstore was closed for the day while they cleaned up her apartment and Y/n had to plan Ori’s party from Tony’s penthouse, which wasn’t winning any prizes for the coziest spot. It’s not that Tony didn’t have a beautiful place, he did. He was in the middle of Manhattan with the perfect view in every direction. High windows, marble floors and beautiful artwork on the walls. There were some questionable paintings hanging that she wanted to question but didn’t. He had a preposterously fancy couch, and the view off the balcony was breathtaking first thing in the morning. Sure, the view is nice, a chef is on-site, and Tony is always sweet, but it feels wrong.

The couch, with as much money as Tony spent on the thing, it should actually be comfortable! It’s hard, the back has awkward cushions and they doesn’t squish down like Bucky’s does. The arms are skinny and unyielding - there is no way she could curl up on that thing and watch a movie. The entire place is so clean she felt bad laying all party planning books and idea boards out on the table this morning. Tony had insisted it was fine, but it still felt strange to muck up his astonishingly tidy living room.

Tony left her be for most of the day, he had work to do, and she was busy planning a starry birthday bash. He had stopped in to check on her throughout and asked more than once, why don’t you just use that Pinterest website everyone uses? Or at least make all those lists on your phone?

She always replied the same, I prefer handwritten notes, Tony. Then I can doodle in the corners.

Out of everything? The thing she hates most about today? Bucky hasn’t sent her a text all day, except for the quick good morning he sent her which she is almost certain was Ori’s doing. Bucky wouldn’t think to send her a message like that first thing in the morning. It had bothered her quite a bit, and she wasn’t the only one who noticed her sour mood. Tony watches Y/n chewing on the end of her pen from his seat across his living room. She’s been staring at her notepad for nearly an hour now, occasionally glancing over at her phone (that hasn’t gone off since this morning).

Something is cooking in that pretty head of hers, and he is going to figure out what. He drops his iPad to the table and strolls over to the couch. Her focus is solely on what’s laying on her lap, he runs his hand up her bare leg stopping mid-thigh right below her shorts and sits down on the coffee table in front of her – she doesn’t seem to notice he is even there. She’s lost in star-shaped Rice Krispies Treats, recipes for the perfect moon rocks and what appears to be every space themed decoration she can think of.

“You’re doing all this for Bucky’s kid?” Tony inquires, giving a gentle but firm squeeze to her thigh. The mix of his voice and the tickle to her inner thigh seems to grab her attention, but there is still a little something indifferent in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m doing all of this for Ori and for Bucky. Bucky and I are friends,” Y/n explained, credulously and matter-of-factly.

Tony can’t help but smile at her. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, whispering against her skin, "You’re adorably naive sometimes.”

The edges of her mouth curl down into a deep frown, and her brows draw together. “What does that mean?”

“Listen,” Tony begged, ignoring her question. They can talk about that after Ori’s party. “I’ve got an idea for baby Barnes’s birthday if you’re okay letting me help?”

“Depends on what it is?”

“You said her favorite place is your bookstore, right?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what she said, but I can’t have the party there. I would have to move all the shelves, my apartment is still a mess, and I have no room to cook anything there. I think Bucky just wants to cook burgers or something and,” She hesitates, nervously drumming the end of her pen against her knee until Tony snatches it out of her hand.

“And… what? You’re killing me with the suspense.”

“I’m not family,” she whispers, so soft that Tony has to strain to hear it. “I think they were going to do it at Steve’s because they have the deck out back and well, he’s her uncle. I’m just some girl that owns a bookstore.”

This is something Tony can’t let go. Tony grabs the notepad from her hands, tossing it and the pen onto the couch and pulls Y/n forward by her hands.

“Your apartment will be fine. I’ll make sure it gets done, and the shelves are not a big deal. Her dad and uncles have muscles coming out of their ass–” They both wince at his choice of words. “– Sorry. That was vivid even for me. Point is we can move them, and I can pay for a caterer. Don’t even try to fight me on that one. It can be my present, and as for the rest, you are far more than just a girl that owns a bookstore to that little girl and particularly to Bucky.”

A wide grin slowly stretches across Y/n’s face, and Tony does not like the smugness of that smirk.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t like one bit.

“You’re pretty sweet when you want to be,” She says, still beaming.

Tony reaches forward and covers her mouth with his hand whispering dramatically as he does, “Shh, don’t say that so loud. There are spies everywhere!”

A muffled giggle slips through his fingers, and she places a soft kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Thank you,” She manages once he drops his hand.

“I like the idea as long as Bucky is okay with it.” Her eyes wander back to her phone on the table next to Tony’s thigh, and it doesn’t have to be said – he can see it written all over her face.

“You wanna call him right now, don’t you?”

She gives Tony an apologetic smile with a small shrug. It’s supposed to be their date night, but she is not going to relax till she talks to Bucky and gets this party sorted – they both know it. Tony rolls his eyes affectionately and waves his hand towards the balcony as he stands.

“I have to change before we go out anyway. Go, make your call.”

Y/n slips out onto the terrace as Tony disappears into his bedroom. There is a moment of hesitation before she makes herself to dial Bucky’s number. They hadn’t talked all day, Y/n thought it was because he was busy, but maybe he didn’t want to talk? They aren’t family, they are brarey friends and she could be bothering him--

“Hey, Beck,” Bucky’s soft greeting makes her skin prickle and her worry fades away when instantly.

“Hi,” Y/n sighs, content and somehow lighter from two simple words.

“Hi,” Bucky breathes into the phone with a huge grin on his face, his nerves finally settling for the first time all day. He’s not sure how she does that when they are a good twenty miles apart.

“So,” she mutters quietly.

“So,” Bucky repeats with a soft chuckle.

Y/n knows why she called. They need to talk about Ori’s party but now that she has him on the line, for the first time in what feels like forever she doesn’t want to rush him off the phone. She admires the soft orange glow and the pink clouds peeking out over the Manhattan skyline, and she’s never wanted to be back in Brooklyn more than she does right now.

“I’m not sure what all the fuss is about the sunset from Manhattan,” She scoffs. “Personally, I like a good old Brooklyn sunset.”

Dammit. Why does she have to be so perfect? Bucky thinks as he sneaks through Steve’s living room and out the front door– no witnesses needed for this conversation. He spins around to find the sunset peeking through all the buildings. It’s harder to do the deeper you got into Brooklyn, but he was able to spot the peach colored sky. He can’t explain why, he just needs to know they are both looking at the same thing.

“You called me to talk about sunsets, Beck?”

Y/n chuckles and shakes her head as if he can see her but quickly remembers he can’t and answers him with a nervous squeak, “Um, no? I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Bucky echoes her words once again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you are about to have dinner with Ori. I just…” I haven’t talked to you all day, and I hate it. She closes her eyes and turns around the block out the nightfall that’s overtaking the orange and slowly fading to plum. “I actually called about Ori’s party. If it’s okay with you, I would like to have it at my shop. I can handle everything. If you just bring the birthday girl.”

“That sounds good,” Bucky whispers, clearing his throat as he turns back around and drops his forehead against the front door – shutting out the dark falling around him, the one that seems to take over when she’s not with him.

“Ori would really love that. Tell me what to buy or set up. I can come early and help move things around.”

“Why are you whispering?” She asks in a hushed tone making him chuckle. “I’m hiding on the front porch at Steve’s. Why are you whispering?” He counters, grinning, foolish, and unabashed.

Y/n giggle softly, and the line goes inexplicably quiet. Bucky slowly lifts his head from the door and turns back around to find the sun was mostly set, he was about to apologize for teasing her when her soft voice drifts through the line, “Let’s not go all day without talking again, okay? I really hated it.”

Sweetest words he’s heard all day.

“God, me too,” He sighs. “Never again. I pinky promise.”

“Buck, you can’t pinky promise. We can’t lock pinkies,” She scolds with total seriousness because that’s just the kind of woman she is. “I’m in Manhattan, and you’re in Brooklyn. It only counts if you hook your pinkies together.”

“Who says we gotta lock, pinkies?” Bucky scoffs, amusement and sincerity filling his words. He may find her entirely adorable, but Bucky needs her to know he means every word – without a doubt.

“Maybe that will be our thing. Pinky promise without the pinky.”

Y/n finds herself unable to stop the ear to ear grin that forms. She drops her head back and looks up to the sky in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stars.

“No more days like today, Y/n. Pinky promise.”

There’s her glimpse. Perfect timing.

“Pinky promise, Buck.”

Previous // Next

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #single dad bucky #fireman!bucky #daddy!bucky #firefighter au #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #alternate universe

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years

Text

Limited Space (one-shot)

Synopsys: One room. Two beds. But will both of them be used?

Pairing: Tom Holland x f!Reader; OC!Juliet (Reader’s character’s name)

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, like blink and you’ll miss it

Warnings: like one swear word I think :D

Word count: 3739

“Y/N.” “Yes, Jimmy?” she dramatically flipped her head to the side causing her hair to swish which made everyone laugh a bit at her antics. “When you found out you weren’t going to be in ‘Civil War’ with these guys, and Tony was going to get a new protegee in Spider-Man, what were your thoughts? Did you kinda go up to Kevin Feige and ask if he was replacing you?” “Funnily enough,” Y/N pointed at Tom, “when we first met on the carpet for ‘Civil War’ that was the first thing he said. “Please don’t think I’m replacing you!”" she imitated his London accent though quite badly making everyone chuckle, and Tom had to bite his lip to keep the smile at bay. “If I’m being genuine –“ she continued, “I was just terrified I was gonna be fired. Cause after ‘Age of Ultron’ where it turns out the Hulk took the plane to space and ended up in Sakaar, I thought that’s what would happen to me. And I was pumped,” Y/N emphasized the word, “but like, Mark and I were keeping in non-stop contact while it was leading up to Phase 3 announcements, 'cause neither of us had any idea what was happening to our characters. And when it was announced Hulk would be in 'Ragnarok', yet for me, it was radio silence, and then Spidey flipped into the ‘Civil War’ trailer… I-“ she laughed, “I kinda started sweating.” Robert patted her knee as Y/N made a motion of ‘cooling off’ with her hand. “And then for like two more weeks, there was nothing. Mark knew zip, though that was a smart decision on Marvel's part.” “Is he still not trusted by anyone?” Jimmy chuckled, and Robert rolled his eyes. “Listen,” the legend started, “everyone loves him, and he’s such a kind person. Whenever something slips past those loose lips,” he looked over his tinted glasses at Tom as well, “it’s never from a malicious place. Like those two are just excited and want to share that with the world, but when you stream the first fifteen minutes of the movie on your Instagram… you kinda lose the access to the secrets.” The audience erupted into laughter as did Y/N. She had gone to the 'Ragnarok' premiere to support her friends, and the movie and clearly remembered the woman poking Mark in the back and angrily whispering for him to turn off the Instagram Live that was still going. At the afterparty, for the first twenty minutes, that’s what everyone was talking about. “And what about you, Tom?” Jimmy brought the conversation back on track. “When you found out you’d be in Civil War but had no contact with Y/N or Juliet in this case what was your first thought?” “I was really scared that she’d hate me,” Tom laughed rubbing his neck and looked at Y/N, who waved him off. “ ‘Cause Tony’s and Juliet’s relationship is one of the strongest in the MCU, and now that he’s recruited Peter, I was genuinely terrified. Especially of her fans, like they are passionate about Juliet, which I totally get. I just hoped that she’d be nice and accepting when we did meet and got to work together.”

Y/N rolled her head to the side and looked at Tom. “And am I as scary as you thought I’d be?” “In the mornings, horrifying,” Tom sassed, and Y/N slapped his shoulder with mock hurt on her face while Robert exclaimed a ‘watch it, kid, that’s my daughter! I might be dead, but I’ll come back to haunt your ass.’ “Did you kinda help him fit into the dynamic of everything?” Jimmy continued on, and Y/N looked at Tom. “Not really, no,” she shook her head. “He just fit in so perfectly on his own, that nobody had to do anything. Sure, like helping out with the scenes and advice like that as peers, yeah. But there was no ‘here’s Tom. Now be friends’ kind of a thing. And in the end, I was off in space, and they were kicking Cap’s ass back on Earth.” Someone in the audience hollered a ‘Team Iron Man’ making Robert blow a kiss in the person’s direction. Given how he wasn't with them to promote Marvel anymore and was there for the re:MARS initiative, it was nice for all of them to catch up. “Honestly,” he piped up, “I couldn’t wait for Infinity War and then Endgame, to film with this one, and then see us on the big screen reunited,” he affectionately ruffled Y/N’s hair. “Me too,” she smiled, “though, when we saw Spidey and Iron Man interacting with the Guardians, yet no Juliet, I started to think maybe it was just like a mock scene that wouldn't end up being used. 'Cause by that point, everyone knew she was rolling with the Space Avengers, and maybe it was just to throw everyone off. But filming it was a really amazing experience, ‘cause Juliet hadn’t seen her father for what now,” she looked at Robert for confirmation, “three-four years? And suddenly they meet again, but he has a new protegee and stuff. It was interesting to see how the dynamic would evolve, and how she’d feel about Peter. As evident in the movie – she kinda liked him.” “So, no rivalry between the two of you?” Jimmy motioned with his hand. And Tom placed his head on Y/N’s shoulder making the audience aww. “None whatsoever.” “Good answer,” she patted his head. “I’ve trained you well.” But as everyone laughed, Y/N was completely unaware of how Tom’s heart galloped in his chest from that small touch and show of affection. Fuck, he was in deep.

***

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned putting a hand against her back and stretching, feeling the air between her vertebra pop. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Robert gently patted her shoulder. “You and me, kid, but we know we can’t. Chris will kill us if we miss the barbecue.” “Which one?” Tom asked, dropping his suitcase on the floor. “Pratt? Evans? Hemsworth? Pine?” Robert cocked his eyebrow. “Since when did we have Pine?” Tom shrugged his shoulders. “Zoe is slowly collecting all of them. And honestly, I wouldn’t be that surprised if they had some sort of a Chris-convention.” “Chrisvention?” Y/N quirked her eyebrow settling on the arm of the couch. “Chris-con?” Tom offered. She snorted. “That just sounds like crisscross.” Robert rolled his eyes removing his glasses and placing them on the mantlepiece. He had invited the two youngsters to stay with him since they both were like his kids, especially after having known Y/N for almost a decade, and now having taken the young Brit under his wing, he didn’t want the two to sleep in hotels if he could offer the comfort of his own house. “Okay, you two, off to bed,” Robert clapped his hands interrupting the weird conversation they were having and shooed them up the stairs having grabbed Y/N’s suitcase much to her grumbling that she could do it herself. “Now, the other guestroom is under renovation so you’ll be sharing. Two beds, one bathroom, unfortunately. Need you to be up bright and early so we could get to Renner’s. And no funny business!” “Ok, Bobert!” They heard a high-pitched whine of ‘stop calling me that!’ as he retreated before a door closed shut, leaving the two with their eyes rolling and heads shaking. “I swear, he’s such a diva,” Y/N joked bringing her suitcase in and dropping it on top of the bed. “The Marvel fame’s really gotten to his head.” “I know!” Tom exasperated in that same ‘I don’t actually mean it’ tone. “It’s like – chill it, Rob!” Y/N snorted and zipped open her bag pulling out a set of pyjamas consisting of an incredibly old and stained shirt with some shorts. “Rob?” “I know,” he wrinkled his nose. “Regretted that as soon as I said it.” She hummed listening to how Tom unpacked a few of his things and gentle music erupted all around them when he hooked his phone to the speaker. “Any requests, m’lady?” he said in a very much so overly exaggerated British accent which Y/N didn’t think was possible, seeing as he was, well, already British. “Why yes, I do actually,” she spun around, her bag of toiletries pressed against her chest as if it was her palm. “Let it be ‘Bowling for Soup’ – ‘Here’s Your Fricking Song’.” Tom bowed and typed in the name. “As the lady wishes.” With the upbeat track of late 2000s punk-rock, Y/N skipped to the bathroom and started to get ready for the night. Without even thinking the two had engaged in a sing-along, and she even held her toothbrush as a microphone. “I get drunk and you get pissed!” she screamed, and Tom responded, “You start dreaming I don’t exist!” “I say yes, and you say no!” Without missing a beat, he sang, “Like Katy Perry says, you’re Hot and Cold!” “With all the shit that we’ve been through, this the best that I can do!” they sang in unison, Y/N almost choking on her toothpaste. “Can I still get lucky tonight?” Cackling she entered the bedroom and bowed in front of Tom. “The bathroom’s all yours, kind sir.” The pure happiness on Y/N’s face was a sight Tom never wanted to forget. It was just the way her Y/E/C eyes lit up, that sparked his own joy and released a horde of butterflies to trash around his stomach. Venturing away from Y/N he released a shaky breath and looked at himself in the mirror. “Pull yourself together,” Tom muttered to his reflection as if the counterpart could actually take charge and calm him down. The music still played switching from one song to another as he brushed his teeth and washed his face from all the makeup that had been caked on his skin for the show. With satisfaction, Tom watched as the beige and brown colours went down the drain with the running water, freeing him from its confines and bringing back his own face Sure, there were impurities. Acne spots, little pimples pushing to the surface, a scar here or there. Usually, when he was around people without them covered, Tom could feel a bit insecure, as if each and every person had a magnifying glass to their eye and were focusing in on just those things. But with the people he was comfortable with, the people he trusted and loved, there was none of that because more likely than not, he had seen them in that same kind of state. Or in Y/N’s case, with her face covered by a white spot-treatment mask making her look like a weird version of a Dalmatian. She was sat against the bed’s headboard with a book in her lap (her usual state) and sweet melodic music Tom recognized to be the soundtrack for ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ wafted around her. “Getting in the mood?” he asked moving to rest on his own bed, acting as if his heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute. “Kinda,” Y/N muttered through pursed lips. “In the movie, the scene where Tristan and Yvaine are up in the clouds they spent so much more time with the Captain, where in here,” she pointed with her chin to the pages of ‘Stardust’, “it’s barely been two pages, and they’re already off. And his name isn’t even Shakespeare!” “What outrage!” Tom mocked and received a pillow in the face for that, phone dropping to his lap. “Rude much?” he threw it back, but Y/N easily caught it. “Captain Shakespeare is my favourite character!” “And you still have the movie to see him in,” Tom’s eyebrow rose. She had nothing but a groan as her response. Y/N read for a bit more while he distracted himself with social media, but it wasn’t long when she placed a candy wrapper as her bookmark and turned off the bedside lamp. “ ‘Night, Tom,” Y/N yawned and hugged a pillow closer to her chest. “ ‘Night, Y/N,” he replied, watching her relaxed features for a bit, before residing to the night himself. Nothing but the moon and stars twinkled outside, illuminating the bedroom with a pale-ish glow, and while he waited for sleep to claim him, Tom watched Y/N rest, her body cast over with the moonlight making him think she was some sort of a princess from a fairytale under a spell, and the glimmer was showing him the way to break the curse. The dead silence of the night was interrupted by his soft voice uttering her name. “Y/N?” “Yeah?” “Are you awake?” She snorted and turned on her back. “Given how I just responded to you, yeah. I’d say I’m awake.” “I dunno,” Tom chuckled. “You could be sleep talking.” “Then I must be a pretty bomb-ass coherent sleep talker,” he saw her put a hand behind her head. “What’s up?” “I can’t sleep.” "Why not?” “ ‘S just… I dunno… It’s stupid…” “Well, it’s not that stupid if you’re losing sleep over it,” Y/N propped herself on her elbow to get a better look at Tom. Even in the complete darkness, she could distinguish the worry in his face and what seemed to be embarrassment. “I won’t judge.” With one last huff, Tom relented. “It’s just when we were in England doing press, I could go home, and sleep, and Tess always slept next to me. I dunno… I just guess I miss something warm to cuddle next to… told you it was stupid.” “No,” came Y/N’s instant response. “It’s not stupid at all. If you wanna hear something stupid, is that when I first got the role of Juliet, which was my first role like ever, I slept in Evans’s trailer for like three weeks, 'cause he had Dodger with him, and I had forgotten Huks home. Took a while for it to arrive, so I had to improvise.” She saw his eyebrow raise. “Huks?” “It’s a plushie husky. Couldn’t go to sleep without it… in fact, I still have worse sleep if it’s not with me than when it is. So, no. I don’t think missing Tessa or her cuddling with you is a stupid reason to be unable to fall asleep.” Tom just wanted to scream out that it was the most adorable thing ever, and that Y/N had to stop before his heart did, but before he could even mutter that her reason wasn’t stupid either, she managed to speak up first. “Do you maybe wanna sleep next to me? Not in a weird kinda way, just… you know… you said you miss something warm next to you...” “Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want you to d-“ “Stop worrying and get under the covers,” Y/N hissed but she was smiling as she did so, waving him to come to her bed. “Though, I do have to warn you – I’m a very violent sleeper,” she said scooting to the side. “How does… that work?” “It means,” she grunted pushing a bit further to the edge and settling down as Tom slipped beneath her bedding, “that I might just, unconsciously kick you, and no matter how far you sleep from me, you’ll end up either on the very edge of the bed or on the floor.” “Also,” Y/N extended a hand, “this is you promising not to sue me for whatever damages my sleeping-self might cause you. A broken nose or a rib – awake me is not at fault.” Tom clasped her hand and sighed. “And here I was getting ready to cash in.” “Sucks to be you then, cause this deal is unbreakable,” she shrugged and gave him one last smile before turning her back to the man and giving a ‘goodnight’. “Goodnight,” Tom muttered to her already softly breathing form, but he himself couldn’t find rest. Although he thought it might actually help him to have something warm to sleep next to, it seemed like his brain was going into overdrive, and his heart was about to collapse. She stirred for a second and rolled over to face him, making his breath hitch. Y/N was so close to him that he wouldn’t even need to stretch his hand to caress her face. “You’re so beautiful,” Tom whispered looking at Y/N’s closed eyes. And unbeknownst to him, her heart almost exploded because although she looked like she was dead asleep, a twitch in her body had jolted her awake, and now she was very much so alert. “I wish I could tell you this while you’re awake… or just in general, I wish I could just grow a pair and do it, but I guess this’ll have to do for the time being. You’re so, so beautiful,” his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, and Y/N had to suppress the hitch of her breath. “And I don’t just mean how you look ‘cause fuck, darling you are a dream… marvellous… but your mind… your heart… the first time we met I thought I’d have a panic attack because you looked at me so softly, I felt my mind go numb and everything just tuned out of focus.” “And then we got to know one another more,” he released a barely-there sigh, but Y/N still heard it, “and I couldn’t help myself. I started to fall for you. You had a boyfriend at the time, so I knew I had zero chances, but it didn’t matter to me. I was giving my heart to you every day bit by bit, and it didn’t even matter if you broke it or not, ‘cause it was already yours to do as you pleased.” Tom released a bitter chuckle, and Y/N could feel him shake his head. “But still somehow I’m too much of a coward and a twat to say how I feel despite it being almost four years, despite both of us being single.” She felt his gaze roam her face and tried her hardest not to flutter her eyelashes. “I guess I’m just too afraid to lose you. In any kind of capacity. I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all… that I couldn’t take…” That was the thought that made his heart clench the most, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. One of the biggest fears, when it came to relationships and friendships he had, was, if he told her how he felt, that Y/N would just shove him out of her life completely. So he surrendered himself to loving her from afar. And he let her love him her own way. It was better than nothing. Quickly before they to dropped to the pillow, Tom wiped the tears away and finally settled for the night, the weight pressing on him lifted if only for a moment before it would come crashing down in the morning. But Y/N had other plans. “Do you mean that?” her voice trembled, and Tom’s eyes shot open to see her already looking up at him “Y-Y/N? I thought you were asleep.” “Answer the question, Holland,” she murmured sliding her hand up to the nape of his neck and pulling his face closer. “Do you mean what you said?” “Yes,” the word was a breathless whisper as his forehead now rested on hers. “I mean every. Single. Word. I am in love with you.” And she needed nothing more than to nudge his head away, brush her nose against his and press their lips together. The two practically sagged against one another with relief that the kiss was reciprocated. Y/N’s hands had gently woven to tangle up in Tom’s chocolate locks, both to feel the softness of them and to pull him closer, while one of his palms had settled on her waist and the other was cupping her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the side of her face. But something just had to ruin the mood, and it was Tom’s laughing. “What?” Y/N pulled back annoyed and frustrated because that one kiss was just not enough after almost two years of her own pent up emotions. “Robert said no funny business,” he giggled. Her eyebrow quirked up. “And?” “And this is funny business.” “Oh my god,” she groaned, chuckled and slipped out of the bed. “You’re a literal child.” Smacking a pillow over his face, which Tom easily caught Y/N bounded over to the bed he had been previously occupied and slipped under its covers. “Wait, no, come back!” he whined reaching over the end of the bed, flopping down on his belly with an extended hand. “Please,” and he gave such an adorable pout that it almost broke Y/N, but no. She crossed her arms and put her nose up in the air. “Nope,” she shook her head, but even in the pitch-black darkness, Tom could see the smile she tried to suppress. “You thought it was funny kissing me, so no kisses or cuddles.” “Please?” “No.” “Please?” his voice increased with each syllable. “No.” And then Tom rolled onto his back and pouted, giving Y/N the best puppy-dog eyes in the world. Like if there existed a contest for that kind of a thing, he’d totally get the prize. “Please come back to bed and cuddle with me?” She couldn’t say no anymore. She never could and never will be able to say no, and that’s when a realization hit her – he had Y/N completely wrapped around his finger, but she didn’t mind that. If the kiss and his warm arms wrapping around her waist was what greeted her when she clambered back under the sheets, and his steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep, she didn’t mind being wrapped around his finger at all. And truthfully, with how huge the grin was that spread across Tom’s face as he kissed her forehead ‘goodnight’ this time for real, neither was he too upset how wrapped around her finger he was. In the morning he had to remember to say ‘thank you’ to RDJ for the limited space he had in his house. And although he did wake up with a sore in his ribs where Y/N had accidentally kneed him during the night, he had never been happier about a predicament in his life. After all, it’s what gave him the chance to speak his heart.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan@nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

A/N: should I do like a part two of the next day????????

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. my tags are always open. just drop a message :)

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Twenty-Six

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): Language, Hints at drug use

A/N: This wasn't the entire chapter, however tumblr's being weird and won't even let me create a new draft right now let alone let me upload a 4,044 worded text post so I'll upload the second part of this asap (probably tomorrow of they get their shit fixed on here) and there will be another update Friday. Have a good night:)

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LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

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I smooth my wavey hair down, taking the last giant velcrow roller out before putting my lipstick on and leaving the bathroom, looking for the car keys, unable to find them.

"Nikki, babe, where are the keys?" I call to him, looking in the kitchen and living room, heading to our bedroom.

He's passed out from a night of partying, Robbin still asleep on the floor.

"Baby." I lightly pat Nikki's face, not having the time to patiently shake him awake.

He groans, scrunching his face and rubbing his eyes.

"What is it?" He asks me, exhausted.

"Where are the car keys?"

"Mine or your's?" He questions, blinking at me to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"Your's. I can't drive mine until we get the driver's side window fixed, remember?"

"What? What happened to it?" He sits up and I raise my brows.

"Uh, well, you put your fist through it?" I remind him and he exhales.

"Oh...yeah." He replies. "They're in my pants pocket."

I don't give him time to reach for them himself.

My hand is in his pants pocket, grabbing his keys and pulling them out.

"Bye, love y-love, I'll see you when I get back." I stutter to cover my slip up, cutting myself off immediately before I can say, "love you", even though I've never called Nikki "love" before.

He doesn't notice it.

"See you when you get back." He mumbles once he's laying back down.

I slip my kitten heels on and head out.

"I love you" was one of the biggest Elephants in the room between Nikki and I.

We should have said it and we knew that, but we just didn't say it.

At first I was waiting for him to say it, then he never did...so I just decided it was something we wouldn't do.

Love's an action instead of an emotion, anyway, so I didn't think it was a big deal that neither of us had heard it from the other because we showed each other we loved each other in other ways...until we didn't anymore...and started keeping score, measuring who was winning by who was hurting who more, instead of trying to be better to each other.

I had to face that ugly reality when we were both screaming "I hate you" with Fred and Doc trying to break up one of our argument-turned-near-fist fights backstage at the last North American show of "Girls, Girls, Girls."

That was the night I got pregnant with my first son, Monroe, and the man barking about how much he hated me, isn't the father.

It's safe to say I won.

My heels click down the concrete stairs of the church as I walk to Nikki's black corvette after service is over, furrowing my brows the closer I get, seeing a white slip of paper tucked under the windsheild wiper.

I pluck the paper off and see it's a ticket for $350.00 with "BROKEN TAIL LIGHT" marked on it.

"My tail light isn't broken." I argue to myself, stepping around the back.

The entire left side set of lights are busted with signs of swapped paint where someone hit the car with their's and I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.

I stand and stare at the paper, then the busted light, tears oncoming the more I look at it.

Nikki is going to kill me.

I hear a car pull up behind me and park on the curb of the street but I don't pay any attention, too busy figuring out how to explain this.

"Hey, uh, Vivian?"

I turn to see Duff, wiping my eyes quickly.

"Duff?" I'm caught off guard by my recently new friend. "I've told you just call me 'Viv'." I tell him, sniffling and he furrows his brows, stopping in front of me where I'm now standing by the driver's door of the corvette.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." It's an obvious lie, a pathetic squeak leaving me.

"What's up?" He asks me and I lick my lips and sigh out.

"It's stupid." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"What happened?"

I just hand him the ticket and he takes in a sharp breath, his brows shooting up.

"Jeezus." He lets out. "You just got this?"

"Yes." My voice cracks and he looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Viv, c'mon, it's not that bad. It'll be alright." He tries to reassure me.

"Oh, no, no, no...that's not all." I say, walking to the back and he follows me, not hiding the gasp that leaves his lips. Nikki is going to kill me."

There's a silent pause as I rest against the back of the corevette, crossing my arms, trying to figure out how I'm going to present the $350.00 ticket to my husband.

Duff leans against it beside me, avoiding the broken bits, thinking for a second, too, before reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Here." He grabs my hand, putting a wad of cash into it and I look at him, confused. "For the ticket." He explains and I shake my head.

"N-No. I can't take this from you, you need it." I argue, wiping more tears.

He goes to say something but I cut him short. "If you say that you don't need it, I'm going to hit you. You live in your car, Duff. You've been talking about getting a new place and this is part of the rent for an apartment." I point out, handing the cash back to him.

"Whatever you say." He shrugs, putting it back in his jacket.

We sit for a moment longer before he nudges me with his elbow.

"You hungry?" He asks and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Stop offering to spend your money on me." I chuckle and he smiles.

"Actually, I know a place the both of us can eat and it would only cost the price of one beer." He tells me and I raise my brows.

It was the first of many Sunday lunches at this hotel a few blocks away that offered an "all you can eat" buffet if you just buy a bottle of beer.

I listen as Duff goes on about possible members of the potential band he wants to be a part of.

A drummer named Steven, who has a lot of extra drums in his kit than what's needed but he's a hell of a drummer.

A Johnny Thunders look alike-that isn't that great on a guitar but makes it sound cool anyway-that goes by the name Izzy.

And a kind of weird kid that apparantly has massive hair and is super shy but speaks a billion words a minute through his guitar: Slash.

"And Slash and Steven are buddies, but I don't know if they've ever met Izzy or not." He tells me, sipping the beer neither of us were carded for, even though we're only twenty.

"What style of singer do you have in mind?" I ask, taking a bite out of my mozerella stick.

"Someone who gets the punk scene, but not necessarily a punk singer." He tells me and I wrinkle my nose. "Don't do that." He points at me, knowing exactly what I'm about to say.

"Punk?"

"Don't say it like that." He laughs. "You don't like it because you don't understand it."

"I understand it and I respect it, I just don't..." I try to choose my words. "...I like some of it, but most of it I don't really care for."

"How the hell do you survive not liking punk? It's the biggest 'fuck you' to societal standards." He defends the genre.

"I like the Ramones, The Stooges, the New York Dolls." I tell him, even though they were all acquired tastes because I have to listen to them so much due to Nikki.

"What about The Sex Pistols?" Duff suggests.

"I did, until Sid killed Nancy." I shrug.

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, you really believe that propaganda bullshit made up by the conservative media to further their anti-punk/rock agenda and get a good check? He did not kill her." He argues.

"They'd been binging on all kinds of drugs for weeks. I'm not saying he meant to, maybe he was hallucinating and genuinely didn't realize it was her until it was too late, but he did it." I state.

"Nope."

"Oh, okay, so it was the body guard?"

"I think it was a double suicide attempt." He explains and I lean back. "His just didn't work."

"If it was a double suicide, why didn't he just use the knife she used and bleed to death like she did?" I question.

"Maybe he didn't want to be stabbed."

"If he was going to die, what would it matter?" I ask and he shakes his head a little with a small grin pulling at his lips.

"Hi, my name is Vivian Estine Sixx and I can argue with a brick wall for five hours straight." He mocks me and I cut my eyes at him.

We just stare at each other, and he attempts to take another drink of his beer while we have our staring contest, and the both of us crack up simultaneously, and he sprays beer through his lips and nose, further egging my laughter on.

I get home around four in the afternoon after spending three hours talking to Duff, and my stomach's sore from laughing so much.

"Viv?" Nikki calls from the bathroom and I walk in to see him teasing his hair.

He's shirtless, his black jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing some of his pubic hair and I lick my lips.

"Did you have fun?" He asks in a teasing tone, referring to the oh-so-wild church service I attend as much as I can, and I roll my eyes and lean against the sink beside him, crossing my arms.

"Yes, I did." I reply, not able to meet his eyes because I'm too focused on his exposed skin.

"What took you so long to get back?" He asks next.

I know, I know, "if it was innocent then there should be nothing to hide and you should be able to tell him you were with another man."

It wasn't Tommy, Mick, Robbin or Vince, and he never met Duff.

He didn't trust men he'd never met around me.

So if I would have told him, I would have never heard the end of it.

"Long sermon." I lie, and he looks at me and furrows his brows.

"Have you been crying? Your mascara's smudged." He tells me, his thumb swiping right under my bottom lash line to wipe away dried mascara and I'm suddenly hit with the realization that I have a $350.00 ticket.

"It was a good sermon." I say.

He finishes his hair, turning to look at me.

"Me and the guys are going to the Rainbow tonight." He tells me. "You're comin', right?"

"Yes." I nod, grinning.

"Good. I gotta go get the oil changed and I'll be back to pick you up." He steps out of the bathroom to go get dressed and I follow him.

Once he's got his t-shirt that has "FUCK" written across the front, he's pulling his jacket and boots on.

When he's gotten his boots on, he stands up from the matress of our bed, and I grab at the top of his jeans, pulling him closer to me, standing on my tip toes to press my lips to his.

He kisses me, his hands holding at either side of my jaw.

When we pull away, he smiles, kissing my cheek before grabbing his keys and leaving.

The second he's gone I'm darting to my purse, attempting to find the ticket, praying I didn't leave it in the car.

Once I see it's not in my purse, I let out a deep breath and worry that I've lost it.

"Damnit." I mumble, trying to remember the last place I had it. "The church parkinglot with Duff but..." I trail off, thinking of the possibility of it being left in the parkinglot and I groan out.

There's no way it's still there if that's where it got left.

I decide to figure it out later and go wash away my worn off makeup before reapplying it and changing clothes, waiting for Nikki to get back.

I'm finishing putting on ruby red lipstick when I hear the front door slam and I tense up and put the cap back on the tube before peeking my head out the door and seeing Nikki put his keys and a piece of paper on the counter, frustration taking a stance in his movements.

Pretending nothing's wrong, I walk out of the bathroom and across the floor to our bedroom to grab my purse and put my heels on.

Once they're on, I walk back into the kitchen smile at him.

"C'mon, babe." I nudge him as I walk past him to get to the door.

He grabs my arm, though, causing me to stop and he pulls me back, pushing me against the counter, trapping me when he puts his hands on the counter on either side of me and his face is centimeters from mine.

"You wouldn't know anything about the completely shattered tail light on my car, would you?" He asks me calmly.

"No?" I lie, trying to seem confused, but it's clear he's not buying it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He just stares at me and I slide my hands up and down his arms, smiling nervously.

"Can we go, now?" I ask, kissing his cheek.

"I spent $100.00 to get it fixed today." He explains. "Did you back into something or did someone hit the car?"

"I told you I didn't even know about it, babe." I argue calmly. "Can we leave and just go back and forth about this later? We're gonna be late."

He gives me one last stare before sighing out, letting me go and I make sure to beat him to the car by several strides, frantically searching for the ticket when I get in, not finding it, before he gets in beside me.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #douglas booth #daniel webber #colson baker #the dirt #the dirt movie

51 notes · View notes

nocturnegyser · 3 years

Text

The Start of Clean Trash

Warren x Raccoon(reader)

A/N: I wanted to expand this little world a bit and make a story about the band Raccoon started, it’s also kind of a prequel to, “The Feels”, so plz enjoy but if it sucked plz be mean. (I can also take requests if u want...)

———

(y/n) has been at Xaviers for over a month, and has been doing relatively fine for the most part. Considering this is the first time she’s lived apart from her older brother.

(Y/N) also played guitar and always dreamt of starting a rock band, she could shred like Brian May and had the voice of Haley William, she was the perfect punk rocker.

She and Warren would occasionally would rock out together but never really perform in front of anyone, plus Warren was busy with X-Men training and (y/n) with classes.

That’s when (y/n) decided to start a band.

———

One day after classes, after getting permission to start a band from Charles, (y/n) was making posters for her band.

The poster read, “Wanna join a band? Join me! (y/n) anytime at the music room after 3:45pm to 6:45pm!”

(y/n) was hopeful about the turnout, expecting at least a few people to show up.

After putting up the last poster on the message board outside, “You think anyone’s gonna show up?” Warren asked.

“I’m hoping so, there’s gotta be at least one other individual here not too busy to join a band,” (y/n) responded

“Yea, sorry I couldn’t join..”

“Nah you’re fine, when responsiblites call, you answer.... at least I think that’s how that saying goes,” (y/n) snickered

Both headed inside for the time being.

Not too long after, a relatively new boy walked up looking at the poster

“....New band huh?.. that could be interesting.”

———

The next day (y/n) was waiting at the music room for what felt like hours, even though it had only been 29 minutes.

“Ugh!! Man.. I thought at least SOMEONE would have been interested. Oh well... I guess all that convincing was for not.” (y/n) said to herself discouraged

Almost at the same time as she began to lose hope, a tall boy came walking in the music room with a maroon instrument case.

The first thing (y/n) noticed was his big rat ears and tail, and secondly, his eyepatch.

“Uh... I was wondering if you were still holding auditions for the band?” the intriguing character asked

“Uh... yeah sure, of course. What do you play exactly?” (y/n) asked astonished that anyone came at all

“I play the bass,” the boy responded

“Oh wow! Exactly what I looking for,” (y/n) responded, both smiling a bit, “Tell me a bit about yourself, Mr.....”

“Palneski, Mars Palenski, I started coming here about 3 months ago.”

“Oh that’s perfect, I’ve barry been here myself, a month and a half now to be exact.”

“I’m an Aries, I began playing bass when my sisters boyfriend taught me...”

“Aww”

“Yeah, he ended up going to jail on running an underground poker ring.”

“Oh...”

“Yeah.. he was pretty cool, he made me this eyepatch”

Accidentally mishearing him, “He put you in that eyepatch??!!?”

“No no no! You misheard me, I said he made me this cool eyepatch, my dads the one who put me in it,” Mars then flipped his eyepatch up revealing a red bloodshot eye

(y/n) was a bit horrified but even more intrigued

“What happened there?... if you don’t mind me asking..” (y/n) asked

“Meh, pops went off the deep end one night on me and my mom, she had clipped her ears and tail before she met my dad, imagine their surprise when a freak like me popped out,” Mars revealed

“Well you’re not the freak in this situation,” she reassured him

“But other than that, I’d like to join your band if that’s cool”

“Yea yea of course, you’re the only person to show up so far so... show what you can do”

“With pleasure,” Mars replied, then plugging his bass that was pastel pink with purple paint splatters

Mars took a deep breath and began playing the baseline from Vulfpecks Sky Mall

(y/n) immediately knew what he was playing and was impressed he was pulling it off

Like every musician, there were things he needed improvement and missed a few notes but (y/n) hardly noticed or didn’t care

After his more than adequate performance, (y/n) stood up clapping with sparkles in her eyes

“You’re in! Welcome to..... I don’t have a band name,” (y/n) giggled

“Awesome! when are practices?” Mars responded

“Well that’s the thing, you’re the only one to really show up to this, we don’t have a drummer yet,” (y/n) responded.

“But if you want, you can help hold auditions for a drummer if you”

“Meh, not like I’m doing much, I don’t see why not,” Mars replied while packing up his bass

With that, (y/n)’s band finally has a start.. somewhat

———

The next few days proved to be fruitless.

No one showed up or wanted to join (y/n)’s or Mars’s band

“Man... you’d think with a prestigious enough music programs you’d think there’d be at least one other kid wanting to wail on drums,” Mars sighed

“Yeah... well I almost started this with another drummer but he’s got training,” (y/n) signed in response

“You know a drummer? who?” Mars asked

“His name is Warren, big metal wings, thuggish looking”

“Oh I saw him around, didn’t think you two hung out”

“Yeah, our schedules don’t always link up unfortunately,” (y/n) then staring off in thought about hanging out with Warren more

Mars noticed this and decided to speak up, “You like him?”

This caught (y/n) way off guard, “W-what??! what makes you say that??”

(y/n) now blushing

“I can tell by the way you stare off when talking about him,” Mars teased

“Well... it’s not that I LIKE like him, I just think he’s... cool, ok?”

“Yeah, cool. Got it,” Mars then looking forward himself a little surprised he was able to get that out of her

———

Finally, after almsot 2 weeks of waiting around, (y/n) finally had someone audition for drums

(y/n) and Mars were overly excited, (y/n) more than Mars

(y/n) immediately began interrogating the individual trying for the drums but they didn’t seem all that interested

“So tell us a bit about yourself,” (y/n) began, Mars was just sitting back in his seat with a semi interested look

“I guess I started drums in middle school band,” they replied

“Awesome, you ever play in a rock band before? Not that that’s a requirement, neither of us have either, we’re just curious,” (y/n) asked

“No, I don’t play to rock, mostly classical or school songs,” the already disinterested drummer responded

“Oh, well uh, we’re a rock band so.. I dunno if that’s-“ (y/n) began explaining before Mars cut her off

“Listen, we’re not looking for anything in particular, but I can tell you don’t wanna try out for this band, do you?” Mars immediately taking over

“Not really, I haven’t drummed in a while and honestly, wanted to drop it forever ago but my parents wanted me to try out..”

“So... you don’t want to join?” (y/n) asked a little sad

“No, sorry”

“That’s ok, let us know if you change your mind,” (y/n) letting them know before they walked out

“UGH!” (y/n) then slamming her head on the table

“We didn’t even get to hear how they sounded!”

“I’d imagine maybe not very good if they haven’t played since middle school..” Mars added

———

Immediately the next day, Warren was waiting in the music room for Mars and (y/n) with an audition ready, but not from him, his apprentice.

(y/n) stood there trying to take in what she was looking at

Warren Worthington III, one the the schools most intimidating residents/students and former horseman of the apocalypse... with a 5th grader drummer apprentice

Warren immediately began explaining what was happening, “Ryan here, decided he wanted to give your band a try, (y/n).”

(y/n) still standing there dumbfounded, sat down and began asking Ryan the usual

“So... tell us a bit about yourself, Ryan”

Ryan, very timidly began, “Well... I’ve only been going here 2 months and... and...”

Taking a deep breath, finall let out what he wanted to say, “I would like to join your band!”

Ryan now blushing

(y/n) finally grasping what was happening, understood what was going through Ryan’s head

“Ok, go ahead and play us something if you’d like,” (y/n) then motions towards the drums

This is the moment Ryan had been waiting for, the moment he spent hours training under Warren

Ryan began with a slow tempo Single Stroke Roll which transitioned into a picked up tempo Rebound Stroke

Warren had been watching from the door while (y/n) and Mars sat there in awe at what Ryan was able to do

after finishing, Ryan sweating and breathing harder than ever

(y/n) and Mars both immediately began clapping and both at the same time in unison said, “You’re in!”

Ryan having aspired to join a band of his own, finally happening, he bang crying and ran off the strage to go hug Warren to thank him for everything

(y/n) seeing this interaction made her heart flutter a bit

Seeing how good he is with kids, she began having thoughts

I wonder how he’d be with his own child, what kind of father would he be?

Immediately realizing what she’s thinking she began blushing

Ryan then decided to introduce himself to Mars and he took a liking to Ryan immediately and took him on as an apprentice as well

(y/n) walked up to Warren, both blushing a bit

“Thanks for giving Ryan a chance, (y/n).” Warren thanking (y/n)

“Ah, well, I was more than likely gonna let him join anyways, no one else was showing up, well one other person did but they weren’t interested”

Both giggled to themselves

I’ve never seen Warren giggle to easily (y/n) thought to herself

“Well.. I suppose we should get our newest addition situated and uh...”

“Oh, yeah for sure.. I guess I’ll just...”

“Yeah.. I’ll see you around I guess”

Both still blushing as Warren exited

———

Both Mars and (y/n) having gotten to know Ryan, (y/n) decided they should come up with a band name

“It should be something that represents all of us,” (y/n) stated

“How about... overnight heartbreak?” Mars suggested

“I never got my heart broken before... not by a girl at least,” Ryan responded

“The harmonies of The Gifted?” (y/n) already not liking her own name idea

“.....Well.. Ryan can manipulate water... you and me are trash animals..” Mars pointed out

“Trash animals??” (y/n) raising a question

“Yea, rats and raccoons are primarily found in trash cans”

“I’ve only been found a dumpster ONCE, and that was to find my tamagotchi I accidentally threw away,” (y/n) retaliated

“I’ve been found in multiple dumpsters, multiple times,” Mars said almsot bragging

Both forgetting Ryan was right there

“Uh well... I like cleaning so.. I’ve never been in a dumpster...” Ryan chimed in

“Cleaning huh...” Mars commented

“Clean... dumpsters.... trash animals..... cleaning trash animals....” Mars was saying random thought out loud to spark an idea for the other

“Clean.....”

“Trash....”

“Clean...”

“Trash”

“Clean”

“Trash”

“Clean Trash!!”

Both Mars and Ryan going back and forth before in unison coming up with a name

(y/n) immediately loved it and the trio had finally decided on their name

“This is gonna be fun,” (y/n) said fist bumping both Ryan and Mars

———

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

Text

Dust Volume 5, Number 13

Junius Paul

It’s our last Dust of the year, written in an odd holding period between the flood of fall releases and the first few indicators that 2020 will, indeed, have music. We’ll be revisiting our favorite records one more time in writers’ year-end essays and hitting a few more obscurities in an upcoming, clear-the-decks January Dust. Then it’s time to say goodbye to a year that sucked on so many levels, but not in the music. This time, contributors included Justin Cober-Lake, Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Andrew Forell, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers, Ray Garraty and Tim Clarke.

Brian Shankar Adler — Fourth Dimension (Chant)

youtube

Percussionist Brian Shankar Adler has a funny way of looking at the world. Or, rather, he has a funny way of looking through it. His Fourth Dimension seeks a new perspective, a new way to ask questions. Instead of trying to find new ground through abstract experimentation, he works his way into patterns and shapes that build on each other. The album opens with “Introduction Drone,” but that sort of minimalist composition provides only one small element of Adler's larger idea. He and his group glide between silent or repetitive space and more melodic, energetic bursts. The whole album, then, takes on an irregular but not erratic pulse. Vibraphonist Matt Moran provides an essential element of the disc's feel. Each artist in the quintet contributes — guitarist Joanthan Goldberger shapes particular moods, for example — but it's Moran's vibes that dictate how far the record pushes into new space. He sometimes disappears and sometimes flourishes. These movements, as much as even Adler's drumming, give the disc its musical arc and particular spot, whatever dimension you may find it in.

Justin Cober-Lake

Angles 9 — Beyond Us (Clean Feed)

youtube

When a musician is as prolific and diverse in approach as Martin Küchen, it’s tempting to consider how each new recording fits into or extends his existing body of work. But Beyond Us often directs the listener’s attention away from Küchen and towards the skills of the eight musicians accompanying him. This is probably by design, since when you have such great players, you might as well give them chances to shine. Their collective associations extend beyond this band, which has managed to defy the prevailing economic tides in order to tour and record repeatedly over the past decade; you can also hear some of them in Paal Nilssen-Love’s Extra Large Unit and the Fire! Orchestra. Whether they’re enriching his arrangements with nuanced and energetic playing, or swinging and exulting during solos and duo exchanges, the rest of Angles 9 sound simply marvelous. In particular, trombonist Mats Älekint, cornetist Goran Kajfeš and pianist Alexander Zethson draw out the robust bluesiness of “U(n)happiez Marriages,” and baritone saxophonist proposes a Moorish counterpoint to the John Barry-ish theme of “Against the Permanent Revolution.” But everyone punches above their weight, making this a deeply satisfying addition to their collective catalogues.

Bill Meyer

Bach Tang — Born Too Alive (Dove Cove)

Bach Tang - Born Too Alive by Bach Tang

LA-based trio Bach Tang — that’s Oakley Tapola on voice and guitar, Dan Ryan on bass and vocals, Rebecca Spangenthaler on drums — channel the chaotic energy of Swell Maps, The Raincoats and Essential Logic on their EP Born Too Alive. This ten-minute, six-song collection combines mutant Beefheartian boogie, defiant DIY post-punk clatter, deliberately distorted vocals and gleefully amateurish noise into a willful concoction that dares you to turn it down whilst forcing you to turn it up. Opening track “Litter Licker” is a perfect 59 seconds of racing down a hill — tumbling drums, tripping bass, guitar slashes, what sounds at first like classic fucked up sax skronking revealing itself to be the exhalations of an exhausted runner. “Dragon’s Blood!” is most straight ahead song here with a recognizable riff and even some harmonizing before it briefly collapses in on itself before a final burst to a groaning end. Bach Tang understand that brevity is the soul of wit and if the vocals can be grating, the songs flash by with enough invention to encourage repeat listens. Fans of the aforementioned bands and their ilk will find much to be intrigued by on Born Too Alive.

Andrew Forell

The Catenary Wires — Til the Morning (Tapete)

Til The Morning by The Catenary Wires

The Catenary Wires — that’s Amelia Fletcher and Rob Pursey — make a lovely, wistful sort of indie pop that is perfectly in line with what you’d expect from people who were in Talulah Gosh, Heavenly, Marine Research and Tender Trap. This is their second album as Catenary Wires, but they’ve been at this sunshine-through-raindrops thing for a while, and the result is not exactly polish but casual grace. They seem to land exactly where they need to, every time, without much premeditation. “Dream Town,” the opener, brushes by with a reticent sureness, Fletcher’s airy soprano harmonizing with Pursey’s hollow, post-punk resonances, the whole thing stirred to gentle life with finger snaps and lilting, wafting background vocals. “Half-Written” (Fletcher leading) is nakedly spare in the verse, but blows into waltz-timed, multi-voiced crescendo in the chorus. Neither voice is perfectly tuned, but they join somehow in worn-in, comfortable harmonies like they’ve been doing it forever, and they have.

Jennifer Kelly

Drekka — Beings of ImberIndus (Somnimage)

Beings of ImberIndus by Drekka

Mkl Anderson (pronounced Michael) has been hanging onto the edge of outbound sound since the mid-1990s. During that time, he’s run the Bluesanct label, played in Jessica Bailiff’s band, and played both solo and collaboratively under the name Drekka. While he often releases music digitally, his production means are primarily analog. Anderson made this 70-minute expanse of non-electronic drone with Icelandic musician þórir Georg, and while between then they play pitch pipe, voice, metal, and bass guitar, what comes out of the speakers sounds long, dark, and entirely non-instrumental. This CD burrows deep into the heart of a sonic black sun, and if you thrive on not seeing the horizon, it could be your next auditory weighted blanket.

Bill Meyer

Lucas Gillan’s Many Blessings — Chit-Chatting With Herbie (Jerujazz Records)

Chit-Chatting With Herbie by Lucas Gillan's Many Blessings

The Jazz Record Art Collective is a concert series that recruits Chicagoan jazz musicians to perform a classic jazz album their way. Chit-Chatting With Herbie originated when series curator Chris Anderson commissioned drummer Lucas Gillan to participate. Gillan decided to use his band Many Blessings to provide a personal angle on Herbie Nichols Trio (Blue Note, 1956). Since Many Blessings is a piano-less quartet (with Quentin Coaxum, trumpet; Jim Schram, tenor saxophone; Daniel Thatcher, bass) and Nichols was a pianist who never recorded with horns, there’s room for interpretation. Since both horn players are pretty fluent, you never miss the chordal instrument. And since Gillan values Nichols’ delightful melodies, which shine with good humor, spirit and form transcend instrumentation. But be careful playing this record, because it’s bound to make you smile a lot. And like mom said, your face might get stuck that way.

Bill Meyer

Frode Haltli — Border Woods (Hubro)

Border Woods by Frode Haltli

In the woods, it’s not always easy to see where the borders lie. That zone of uncertainty is exactly where Norwegian accordionist situates this project. Not only does he include a Swede, nyckelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle) player Emilia Amper, to join his otherwise Norwegian ensemble. The music itself occupies a shadowy terrain in which classical composition from different centuries mixes with Norwegian folk themes and the squeezebox-rich atmosphere of pre-rock continental café music. Percussionists Håken Stene and Eirik Raude are equally adept at Steve Reich-like mallet patterns and bowed metal atmospherics, which operate as a backdrop for Amper and Haltli’s stark and moody melodies.

Bill Meyer

Matt Jencik — Dream Character (Hands in the Dark)

Dream Character by Matt Jencik

Implodes’ guitarist Matt Jencik applied thickly fuzzed-out and massively reverbed guitarscapes to Black Earth and Recurring Dream, the band’s two excellent albums for Kranky. On Jencik’s 2017 solo debut, Weird Times, stripping away Implodes’ vocals and post-punk-leaning rhythm section left his guitar to roam like a wraith, swathed in static, tracing simple yet affecting arcs against a turbulent backdrop of noisy guitar loops. Ambient rock, if you will. On his new album, Dream Character, his instrumental palette has expanded to include bass and keys (not that the sound sources are especially easy to discern), but his aesthetic focus remains as tight as ever. The result is hypnotic, offering a satisfyingly rich blend of tones with just enough movement to keep the listener entranced. While Jencik is clearly venturing into shadowy realms — signposted by song titles such as “Dead Comet Return,” “Night Gallery Pause” and “Lifeless Body Train Ride” — there’s often a shaft of light cast into the gloom, whether via brighter tones or intervals. The final track asks “R U OK” — like most music of this kind, it offers a reassuringly melancholy blanket of sound within which to take refuge.

Tim Clarke

Pedro Kastelijns — Som das Luzis (OAR!)

Som das Luzis by Pedro Kastelijns

Pedro Kastelijns hails from the same trippy Brazilian scene as Boogarins, and likewise, favors a brightly colored, soft-focus form of psychedelia that evokes Love, Os Mutantes and early aughts Animal Collective. A few cuts — “Olhos da Raposa,” for instance — tap into a beachy bossa nova vibe in the languid guitars and junk yard percussion. Others feel less rooted in place, and touched by an arch, fog-fuzzed indie rock exuberance (“Som das Luzis,” “Flux Estelar”) that brings to mind Ariel Pink. Kastelijns sings in a wobbly falsetto much of the time, and accompanies himself on very DIY sounding drums, guitars and keyboards, and there isn’t an indelible hook on the disc, despite the aspirational “Pop Gem” titles of two of the cuts. Listening is a little like being stoned—that is, pleasant, mildly disorienting and hard to remember afterwards.

Jennifer Kelly

Julian Loida — Wallflower (Julian Loida)

Wallflower by Julian Loida

Gateway experiences are often remembered with mild embarrassment; just because something pointed you in a particular direction doesn’t mean it’s the best example you’re ever going to hear. Julian Loida’s Wallflower might serve as a gateway to minimalism and contemporary composed percussion. Its ten pieces, which are mostly constructed around repetitive vibraphone and piano figure, are unfailingly melodic. The compositions are succinct and unmarred with sudden changes, ensuring that listeners will not be taxed or distracted over each one’s course. Nor is he going to throw you off with extended techniques; he’s quite comfortable working with the vibraphone’s familiar, dreamy zone. But while he’s not going to wear anyone out, he doesn’t talk down to anyone, either. This music communicates directly, and it feels sincere in its simplicity. Gift it to the teenaged symphonic percussionist or budding ambient listener in your life.

Bill Meyer

Aurora Nealand / Steve Marquette / Anton Hatwich / Paul Thibodeaux — Kobra Quartet (Astral Spirits)

Kobra Quartet by Aurora Nealand / Steve Marquette / Anton Hatwich / Paul Thibodeaux

Around a century back, jazz progenitors King Oliver and Louis Armstrong travelled between New Orleans and Chicago, playing in both cities. While the two towns have gone on to develop jazz heritages with very different characters, a cadre of musicians has been cutting edge players from each back together in recent years. In a way, this isn’t new; the late Fred Anderson and Kidd Jordan enacted annual summits on the Velvet Lounge for years, and Jeb Bishop and Jeff Albert made the lemons of Hurricane Katrina into a sweet-sounding brew called the Lucky 7s. But guitarist Steve Marquette’s Instigation Festivals, which have taken place in both cities, have fostered a more complex combination of talents involving both cities’ avant-gardes. This quartet began as a free improv encounter involving two musicians from each city, but it turned out so well that the name of this tape became the name of a new band. Their music may build on past examples, but it’s definitely of its moment. Marquette’s resonant feedback and Anton Hatwich’s droning double bass bridge the electro-acoustic divide, and Paul Thibodeaux’s elastic beats suggest internal reverie more than second-line grooves. But it’s Aurora Nealand’s electronically processed singing and glassy tendrils of accordion that center this music within an otherworldly zone, albeit one where it’s still possible to stumble out of a late-night party in a black hole and find yourself blinking in the middle of a street party.

Bill Meyer

Junius Paul — Ism (International Anthem)

Ism by Junius Paul

Junius Paul is a shit-hot Chicago jazz bassist, a frequent collaborator with Makaya McCraven, one of the younger members of the Art Ensemble of Chicago and a long-time habitué of the Velvet Lounge on the South Side. On this, his first album as bandleader, he exhibits a startling versatility, switching from acoustic to electric and back, spinning into heady frenzies (“You Are Free to Choose”) and pulling back into monastic discipline in minimalist tone poems (“Bowl Hit”). Paul is not above hitting a life-affirming groove, a la the laid back skronky swagger of “Baker’s Dozen,” but he’s also not married to it, witness the smouldery bowed abstractions of “Ma and Dad.” “Spockey Chainsey Has Re-Emerged” takes up a smoking quarter of the album’s duration, Paul’s restless bass pulsing under a fever dream of wild squalls of trumpet, luminous electric keyboards and a surge and roll of drumming. There’s plenty of great bass here, for fans of that sound, but Paul’s real strength is as a band leader and composer, leading a daring group of fellow travelers — Isaiah Spencer, Justin Dillard, Rajiv Halim, and Jim Baker — towards parts unknown.

Jennifer Kelly

Ploughshare — Tellurian Insurgency (I, Voidhanger)

Tellurian Insurgency by PLOUGHSHARE

This new EP from Ploughshare curdles and oozes with ugly blackened death metal — or perhaps in this case, it’s deathy black metal? As metal subgenres and sub-subgenres (really, it’s getting Melvillean at this point…) hybridize and mutate, the community of engaged listeners and creators sometimes gets overly invested in categorization and species identification. And there’s so much to observe, out in the wild spaces of culture. To wit: For three years now, this bunch of weirdos from Canberra has been churning out songs with unpleasant titles like “The Urinary Chalice Held Aloft” and “In Offal, Salvation.” But if you can groove with the scatological wordplay, the riffs are pretty good. The record’s A-side, which includes “Abreactive Trance,” suggests that these guys (guys? no names are available) have spent some serious time listening to Deathspell Omega’s Paracletus. Let’s hope Ploughshare doesn’t share that other band’s irredeemable politics. Just what is a “Tellurian” insurgency? A fantasy of the Earthball’s primitive lifeforce striking back? More facile chest-beating about “anti-human” noise? And just how serious or cynical is the band’s appropriation of that famous image from the Book of Isaiah? Hard to say. But the guitar tone cuts more like a sword.

Jonathan Shaw

Omar Souleyman—Schlon (Mad Decent)

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Omar Souleyman, Syria’s best known wedding singer turned global recording phenomenon (he’s made over 500 records), brings joy in a world of trouble. Souleyman hails from Ras al-Ayn in northeastern Syria, an area that has, over the last several years, been fought over by Syria, the Kurds, Isis and the Turkish Army. He’s been living in Turkey since 2011, but things are not so great there either. So, it is remarkable, in its way, that Souleyman’s latest album, a mash-up of traditional dabke, disco and techno, is so very celebratory. Rave meets traditional wedding dance in the synth-y, string-slashing “Abou Zilif,” a cut that situates a stirring, primal male-sung chorus amid a Levantine-flavored disco. “Layle” likewise moves fast and relentlessly, bursts of saz (Azad Salih) winding through thickets of multi-toned drums. It hits hard and repeatedly, and if this is what people dance to at weddings in rural Syria, hats off. I’m exhausted just sitting on the couch.

Jennifer Kelly

SunnO))) — Pyroclasts (Southern Lord)

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Pyroclasts is one of those releases that, viewed from one angle, seems to be at best inessential. Drone metal titans SunnO))) have already given 2019, in the form of Life Metal (which, as Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw puts it, is “a record that seeks the sublime”), an extremely essential record. If you were only going to listen to one album from them this year, that one is the one to start with. This one, by contrast, is literally a collection of some of the drones that Stephen O’Malley, Greg Anderson and their various guests and compatriots would start each day in the studio with when recording Life Metal. And yet, if you take a slightly different angle on it, Pyroclasts (named for the aftereffects of volcanic eruption) starts feeling more than anything else like a product of generosity. These were literally the exercises/rituals they began each working day with to get in the right frame of mind to make Life Metal; it would be entirely understandable if they didn’t want to share them with the world. The result both suffers and benefits from the much narrowed focus compared to their big brother; it doesn’t do everything Life Metal does, but if all you want is just under 44 minutes of straightforwardly brain-frying drone, Pyroclasts is here for you.

Ian Mathers

Horace Tapscott with the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra and the Great Voice of UGMAA — Why Don’t You Listen? (Dark Tree)

Why Don't You Listen? - Live at LACMA, 1998 by Horace Tapscott with the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra and the Great Voice of UGMAA

Recent lauded efforts by Angel Bat Dawid and Damon Locks suggest that socially conscious spiritual jazz is sending a message that makes a lot of sense in 2019. If such music speaks to you, consider checking out the work of Horace Tapscott, and particularly this welcome archival find. He was a composer, bandleader and pianist based in Los Angeles who led the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra from the 1960s until his death in 1999. Inspired by big bands lead by Duke Ellington and Sun Ra but concerned with celebrating and uniting the community where he lived, he fashioned music that into an exposition and affirmation of pride in pan-African and African-American ways and culture. This live recording of his ten-piece band in performance with a similarly-sized choir named the Union of God Musicians and Artists Ascension puts a hard stop on his timeline; it was the last time he played piano in public, since the aggressive cancer that ultimately killed him would first limit him to conducting in last appearances. There’s nothing wrong with playing here; he, saxophonist Michael Session, and trombonist Phil Ranelin all essay impassioned solos over the Arkestra’s massed percussion. But it’s the voices, led by singer Dwight Tribble, that embody Tapscott’s communal commitment and articulate his cultural concerns.

Bill Meyer

TENGGER — Spiritual 2 (Beyond Beyond is Beyond)

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It’s hard to create the kind of New Age-y post-kosmische psych drone that TENGGER does without having some kind of mystical angle, but the travelling musical family known as TENGGER leans into that harder than some. The mantra to focus on for this fine follow up to 2017’s recently reissued collection of harmonium, voice and synth-jams Spiritual is “if you’re looking at something, you should recognize that there is something invisible behind it”. Like most similar insights, let alone ones meant to be applied to a work of art, you’re probably going to get what you put into that one out of it, which means if you’re on TENGGER’s wavelength you probably already feel what they’re going for. Much of Spiritual 2 is fully up to the standard of its predecessor (the gently fried “See”, the suspended vocals of “Kyrie”, the softly pulsing extended length of “Wasserwellen”), but they show the most promising signs of growth when they adopt a bit of formal rigour. On the three-part dilatory experiment of “High,” “Middle” and “Low,” just subjecting the same melody to different speeds brings out something clarifying about the whole sound. You can really start to glimpse whatever invisible is behind it.

Ian Mathers

Various Artists — Pop Ambient 2020 (Kompakt)

Pop Ambient 2020 by Various Artists

Kompakt celebrates twenty years of the Pop Ambient series with a new collection of beatless luminance featuring stalwarts Joachim Spieth, Thomas Fehlman and Markus Guentner as well as some of the lesser-known names on the label’s roster.

Thore Pfeiffer’s “Urquell” — an acoustic guitar over an unobtrusive bed of synths and scratchy strings — sets the mood for the subsequent 85 minutes. Tracks float by lulling the listener into a state between dreams and catatonia. Good then that Maria Estrella reminds us to breathe on Morgan Wurde’s “Laesst Los,” a quite lovely track built on string beds, treated whispers and Estrella’s gentle instructions. The only vaguely unsettling moments come during Fehlman’s “Liebesperlen” with its lysergic take on deep house. NZ based composer Andrew Thomas rounds off the collection with two short pieces of atmospheric piano based contemporary minimalism that veer into Max Richter territory and are all the better for it. Pop Ambient 2020 is a warm bath; comfortable and enveloping without the depths to threaten, it passes by with few demands, diffident to the point of vanishing. Perfect for the next session in a hyperbaric chamber or MRI where at least there are whirrs and clicks to keep you alert.

Andrew Forell

Winds of Egotism — Winds of Egotism (Death’s Radiance)

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When Plato wrote his cave allegory, he couldn’t have Winds of Egotism in mind, yet his allegory became a reality with the band’s self-titled album. The band members haven’t left the cave and instead smuggled the gear in (even the country of origin is undisclosed). The resulting music raw, monotonic and unpretentious enough to be mistaken for drone. The guitar excavates sounds so primitive that it sounds more like an echo from the cave walls than a guitar. Couldn’t they ask Satan for better equipment? This EP is 17 minutes long total, just two short untitled tracks, with no audible difference between them. If true black metal is music that which doesn’t sound like black metal, then this is it. Plato or no Plato.

Ray Garraty

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lickthemagaindeacy · 5 years

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Hiii! I recently just fell in love with Queen and I think they are absolutely amazing and I love how hilarious and adorable they all are with each other. I just have one question: I can never find anything really where Brian and Deaky are being cute and talking about each other. Is there some animosity there? Just wondering. Thanks!

Oh wow this a GREAT ask. I actually feel quite honored that you came to ask me about this!

First of all, hi!! Welcome to the Royal Family!! Always great to have new Queenies on board.

So, the short answer to this is, yes. There was a bit. But allow me to elaborate.

I think from the beginning, John and Brian were never as close with each other as they were with Freddie or Roger. John was introduced to Roger and Brian at a club through a mutual friend, and John and Roger hit it off right away. They shared a lot of the same interests; cars, music, science fiction, movies. They are also the youngest, so they were immediately buddies. Once John joined Queen, Freddie felt the need to sort of be John's "band mom", for lack of a better term. John was always incredibly shy around new people and crowds, so Freddie sort of became John's voice, and tried to kind of protect him from some of the crazier aspects of the rock 'n' roll lifestyle. Now, although they got along and worked fine together professionally, and respected each other as musicians, I don't think Brian and John quite had that close of a connection.

However, when John found those old radio parts and built his home made amp in 1972, he brought it to Brian and immediately Brian started experimenting with it and various other equipment. The Deacy Amp was responsible for a lot of the layering and tone and such that became an integral part of Queen's sound. Take a listen, for example, to Brian's song "Good Company". He was able to create the illusion of a string ensemble by layering the Red Special through the Deacy Amp. There's a great article on it here. Brian still has and uses the original Deacy Amp.

As time went on, John started to become more involved in the decision making and songwriting processes. He started joining arguments. He became more confident in himself and his place in the band. With that comes more friction between these four very strong personalities. It's important to understand that the four members of Queen had vastly different songwriting styles and musical tastes. Roger is a very punk rock style drummer. Brian, for the most part, has that sound that leans from prog rock into metal, with his occasional foray into folk style. John is a funk master. He was all about funk, Motown, and disco. One of his favorite groups was Cream. Freddie loved his fantasy songs, and was very into pulling classical piano and opera sound into his songs.

The point where this all comes to a head is on their 1982 album Hot Space. You can look up critical reviews of this album, most of them will say that it was very "self indulgent" of Queen, and it strayed very far from their "usual sound" (which is saying a lot for a band whose sound had already been all over the place. For the love of cheese, their biggest album to date was called A Night At The Opera, which spanned from music hall to folk songs to seaside ditties to love ballads. I digress.) Now I've heard lots of different takes on this. Apparently the recording of Hot Space was a tense time, but it was all around a bad time in Brian's life in general, for personal and professional reasons. He and Roger were fairly opposed to the idea of a disco album. The Game had already featured a lot of funk style, and they'd broken their one rule and used synthesizers. Roger and Brian wanted to return more to their prog rock roots. Freddie and John, however, were really pushing for more exploration into these styles and genres. They wanted to move with the times. It's been said that at some point in all of this, John and Brian came to a head and had the worst fight they'd ever had. This, supposedly, was the birth of "Back Chat". I don't know that it's been confirmed, but listening to it, it's really difficult to think that Deacy wrote it about anybody but Brian and their difficulties, especially with the line, "You stand so tall, you don't frighten me at all". The song just screams frustration. It's also said that they argued about whether Brian should put a guitar solo in it (Deacy apparently didn't want one).

However, they seem to have pulled through this just fine. They went on tour shortly after the album was released, and "Staying Power", which is the first track on Hot Space, became really popular during that tour. Brian can now, it seems, look back on it with no ill will.

During recording for The Works and A Kind of Magic, and their subsequent tours, for the most part, they seemed to be back to the professional rapport they'd had before. Roger and John did a lot of the public appearances and gave interviews. Freddie, I believe, was working a lot on his solo work. Brian was dealing with the dissolution of his marriage (but that's a whole other can of worms.) But Queen as a whole was back in tip-top shape. There are even a few shared moments on stage between John and Brian. One in particular I can think of is them teaming up to harass Freddie a little at one show when he made them wait to start the next song so could get his water.

During Freddie's final years, and the making of The Miracle and Innuendo, they all seemed to really pull together after taking a small hiatus from working together. Those two albums were on a much higher level than most of the work they'd done in the 80's. They were back in the swing of things. John was even more confident snd more willing to give interviews.

Brian, as well as Freddie's long term partner Jim Hutton, said that John wasn't around all that much toward the end, as Freddie's illness was really quite difficult for him to deal with. And, supposedly, when finishing Made In Heaven, there was a bit more tension as they all argued over how to finish this album without their voice of reason. But when you've just lost your best friend to an illness that no one seems to even want to understand, you're bound to lash out even at those closest to you.

Now, Brian speaks about John with nothing but respect, appreciation and admiration. He always, I believe, had that respect and awe for Deacy as a bassist and musician. He talks often of how lyrical and melodic John was on bass, and how much of a powerhouse he and Rog were as a rhythm section. He has spoken of how John is still a part of the business side of Queen, and how he always informs John of what they are doing. He doesn't always get an answer about things, but he keeps John in the loop. And there's also a tweet floating around out there where he said that John's songs are still good!!

So in conclusion, yes, there was some tension, but not any more than there was in the rest of the band (there are some.stories there, too. They fought so hard some times they'd start throwing things), but I think the reason we don't see as much interaction between Brian and John is simply because, while they were friends and bandmates, they didn't have the same close relationship with each other as they did with Freddie or Roger, which is neither good nor bad. It just is. They still spent 20 years as half of an absolute musical power group, were able to create amazing music together and spend so much time in close quarters without killing each other or walking away from the band.

Also, have this. I think it's cute.

(Oh god I'm sorry this got so long. Also if anyone would like to add/correct any of this, please feel free. I am definitely NOT the last authority on this!)

#ay oh!#Brian May #John Deacon

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