#summer sucks I want it to be winter already so I can sleep for two months and call it hibernation

[sailor-aviator]

Til the Summer Comes Again: Chapter Two

Til the Summer Comes Again: Chapter Two

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'" — Lewis Carrol

Summary: Bob was a winter spirit who loved what he did. He loved making individual snowflakes. He loved the way the snow sparkled in the winter sun. He loved the laughter his creations brought to people around the world. What he didn't expect, was to fall in love with a human girl from a small town. He has until the summer comes again for her to reciprocate his feelings if he wants to remain on earth, but will the shadows that haunt her get in the way of happily ever after? (JackFrost! AU)

Trigger Warnings: Talk of helplessness, Nightmares, Death of a loved one, Secrets, Allusions to depression. I think that's it.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Things should start picking up now that these two have met! Stay tuned for more! Be sure to join the tag list too if you haven't already so you don't miss out on any updates! I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts, and stay tuned for an exciting little announcement. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where all of my works will also be published! If you enjoy my work, please consider sending me a tip!

Masterlist || Moodboard || Robert "Bob" Floyd Tag List

You awoke the next morning to a familiar, not unpleasant stillness. The morning sun crept through your curtains, casting everything in a light blue glow. You stirred underneath your mountain of blankets, the chill of the morning air kissing your cheeks and beckoning you back to the land of the waking. You blinked your eyes open slowly, watching as the light turned from cool blue to stunning gold as the sun peaked over the horizon.

Stretching, you let out an amused hum as your cat, Harlow, let out a cry of protest from his spot behind your legs. The long-haired, black cat blinked at you lazily when you peered down at him with a soft smile.

“It’s time to get up,” you told him, your voice still raspy from sleep. “It’s time to face the day.”

Harlow let out another cry before moving to snuggle back into you. You chuckled, shaking your head and moving, earning a grumble from the cat.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But some of us have things to do and people to meet. You can go back to sleep though.”

Harlow huffed, repositioning himself before falling back asleep. You rolled your eyes, already moving to get up out of the warm nest of blankets. Sucking in a breath of air at the cold hardwood under your feet, you quickly put on your slippers before padding over to the window. The snow had fallen through most of the night, the pristine snow only disturbed by the winter birds that hopped around your neighbor’s bird feeder. Sighing, you turned to walk out of your room and down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house had belonged to your grandparents up until about two years ago when your grandfather had passed. Your grandmother had taken the loss hard, deciding to move in with your aunt down in Florida not too long after, and your father had gotten a job in Chicago a few years prior to that, your parents moving out and leaving your beloved childhood home. The house stood vacant until a couple of months later when you had moved back to your hometown from New York, your tail tucked between your legs.

There were still reminders of your grandfather everywhere you looked. The cabinet where he kept his collection of pipes was the one no one could bring themselves to clean out and pack away. You remembered the summers spent sitting outside or running around chasing the fireflies. You would catch them, running up to your grandfather to show him your prize, and he’d sit you on his lap with a chuckle. He’d offered to let you try a puff of his pipe once, the wooden bowl nestled in your tiny hand as you blew more out than in. The embers of the tobacco would glow in the darkness of the setting sun, and for a second you believed that that was what it was like to be a dragon — something strong and untouchable.

And that’s what your grandfather had appeared to be to you. Strong and untouchable, that is. He was a strong, stoic man, but the love in his heart was plain as day to all those who knew him. But that strong force was no longer here, and you were left everyday with reminders of what life once was. You frowned, feeling the sadness well up within you, feeling a cloud of darkness surround you as you allowed yourself to wallow in that feeling and entertaining the “what ifs?” The black cloud seemed to grow more and more intense, seeming to almost caress you as you spiraled.

Your phone lit up with a text notification, and just as suddenly as the cloud had appeared, it was gone. You reached for your phone, unlocking it to see that the message was from Nat.

Breakfast today?

I’ll buy :)

You smiled, thankful for your friend. Firing off a succession of texts to solidify plans, you turned back towards your room to get ready. You saw the flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned, you saw nothing. You shook off the odd experience as a trick of the light, but you just couldn’t seem to shake the all too familiar feeling of being watched.

The cafe was surprisingly crowded for so early on a Saturday, but you and Nat had been able to snag your favorite table over by the window.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she laughed as the two of you settled. You shook your head at her with a grin.

“I just saw you a couple of days ago.”

“And it’s been too long!” She countered, reaching across the table to grab your hands in hers. “Besides, the guys were there, and while I love them to death, sometimes we just need girl time, you know?”

“Yeah, those two are something else,” you chuckled with a grin.

“How have you been, seriously?” She asked, giving your hand a light squeeze. “You look exhausted. Is everything okay?”

You didn’t want her to know about the nightmares you’ve been having. The confusing twists and turns as you ran in a dark maze as something or someone chased you. Always waking up right as they grab you. You had had similar dreams when you were younger, but they had grown worse as you got older. Now, they were becoming so real, and a part of you was starting to wonder if whatever it was chasing you in your dream might actually hurt you. You knew it was ridiculous, really you did, but no matter how many times you told yourself you were being childish, that the boogeyman wasn’t real or out to get you, the nightmares still woke you up in the middle of the night from a dead sleep. You hadn’t told anyone about them, worried they would label you as crazy or laugh in your face about your fears. So, you kept the secret close to your chest, pushing the terror from your mind as you continued on day by day. You wouldn’t tell Natasha about them, no matter how much you wanted to. She was worried enough as it was.

“I’m fine!” You chirped, taking a sip from your tea, the warm liquid serving to soothe some of your nerves. “I’ve just been working at the bookshop. There’s not much else to it.”

Natasha hummed, studying you with a curious expression. “You haven’t taken up any hobbies?”

“Not if you don’t count reading as a hobby,” you joked, earning a frown.

“You need to get out more,” she sighed, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “Put yourself back out there. I know what happened was hard on you, but you can’t wallow in self pity forever, SP. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you give up. You’re too young for that!”

“Nat, I know you care,” you said, fingers stroking the rim of your mug, “and I’m happy that you’re thinking about me. But, I just need a little more time to figure out what it is that I want now. I spent my whole life thinking one thing, and now I’m having to start completely over.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” she countered, giving you a pointed look. “You could still dance, Sugar.”

You shook your head. “No, I…It’s too much for me right now, Nat. I need to take a break from that world. I’m content for right now.”

“Sugar Plum,” she trailed off, biting at her bottom as she looked at you. Finally, she let out a sigh, shifting in her seat. “Alright, fine. Now, tell me all about that cute book clerk you work with.”

“Who?” You asked, wrinkling your nose. Natasha wiggled her eyebrows as she took a sip from her coffee.

“You know, the cute one! The one with the pretty brown eyes.”

“Javy?” You laughed, looking at her with a grin. “You have a crush on Javy?”

“It’s not a crush,” she scowled. “I’d have to know him for it to be a crush. No, it’s…it’s a lust at first sight situation.”

“Sure,” you smirked, giving her a knowing look. “Well, he’s single. Or at least, I think he is. I’ve never seen anyone come in asking about any of them, now that I think about it.”

“You haven’t?” She asked. “What about outside of the shop.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them outside the shop, now that you mention it,” you hummed, trying to think of a time to the contrary.

“Old man Maverick must keep them pretty busy if you can’t think of a single time you’ve seen them outside of the shop,” she chuckled.

“He’s not that old,” you rolled your eyes, smiling. “Anyway, he was kind enough to give me a job at the shop, and I like it there. Sure, there have been some weird things here and there, but it’s not like anything crazy has happened.”

“What do you mean ‘weird?’” She frowned. You grimaced with a shrug.

“I mean, there have been odd occurrances, but it’s nothing to be worried about, really. They’re just an interesting group of guys. I think you’d really like them, actually.”

“Alright, well,” she paused, “if you’re sure. And tell me if anything changes, alright?”

You nodded, and she let out a breath before giving you a smile.

“Now tell me all I need to know about Javy.”

You hurried to unlock the front door of the shop, the cold of the winter day creeping through your layers and towards your skin. The bell above the door rang out as you stepped through, shoving the heavy, wooden door closed behind you as you knocked the snow off your feet against the welcome mat. You stripped yourself of your winter wear as you made your way towards the counter, the stillness of the shop a comfort to your sense. You hadn’t told Natasha, but the shop was the only place in town where you felt a sense of peace, like something about the building chased the dark thoughts and energy away.

You flipped on the electric kettle as you rounded the counter, firing up the ancient desktop computer that you had been dropping less than subtle hints to Maverick about replacing. The old computer groaned to life as you readied your favorite mug with a tea bag, the kettle quickly heating the water inside to a boil.

You turned to grab the kettle, jumping when you saw a figure standing at the door that led to the back room. The man was around your age and tall. So tall, you had to tilt your head back a little bit to see all of him. He was handsome with dark, blond hair that curled at his forehead, and eyes so blue that they reminded you of the ocean. His eyes raked over you, lips twitching at the corners as if he was holding back a smile.

“Oh!” You cried out, clutching the mug close to your chest as you stared at him. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“SP?” Asked Maverick as he appeared just behind the man, looking between the two of you. “I see you’ve met Bob.”

“Bob?” You questioned, glancing at the younger man who still stared at you.

“Yes,” Maverick smiled, placing a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Bob is my nephew. He’s going to be staying with me for the time being.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bob smiled, holding out his hand for you to shake. His voice had a rich timbre, the sound making your cheeks warm as you shook his hand. You let out another gasp at the tingle that ran up your skin, quickly dropping his hand and offering him an awkward smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you murmured.

“I thought you could show him around the bookshop today,” Maverick hummed, glancing between the two of you with a muted smile. “Show him the ropes of how to run the shop.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Yes, I can do that. Is there anything specific that you’d like me to show him?”

“No,” Maverick smiled. “Just the basics. I’ll be in the back for the day if you need anything.”

And without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back through the door, leaving you and Bob alone behind the counter. You sighed, fighting to keep yourself from rolling your eyes as you set your mug down on the back counter. You turned to Bob with a smile, noting how the apples of his cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you did so.

“Do you actually go by Bob?” You asked him, arching an eyebrow. He blinked at you, swallowing before answering.

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “You can call me Sugar Plum or SP. Everyone else around here does. Come on, I’ll show you around the place.”

You grabbed his hand before he could say anything, leading him out from around the counter. You tried not to focus on the way his hand felt in yours or how good he smelled as you passed by him.

You might be in trouble.

Tag List: @seresinsbrat @fanficfandomlove @bobgasm @goldenseresinretriever @hopip99 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @theamuz @rosedurin @kmc1989 @linkpk88 @deliriousfangirl61 @nouis-bum @topherwrites @lightdragonrayne @number-0-iz @princessofglitterland @agentorange9595 @reidshearts @pittbull-enthusiast @shinycupcakebaker @els-marvelvsp @shotgunhallelujah @mycobrakai1972 @its-the-pilot @jupitercomet @eloquentdreamer @pinkdaisies1106 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @jessicab1991 @princess76179 @grimkaos

#ttsca #til the summer comes again #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #robert floyd fanfiction #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob top gun #top gun bob

[prnanxiety]

2/10/24

Frustrating day today, by accident of the way scheduling works.

So, I got called this morning and told I was being pushed back four hours for low census. That was actually awesome because it was 5:30 in the morning and I was fucking tired and wanted to sleep in. And usually when there's a low census call, it means I can anticipate taking the whole day off. However, that didn't happen this time. I was told I was, in fact, needed for the other 8 hours of my shift. Dang.

Anyways, When I showed up it turned out I was needed for a 1:1 sitting. One of the patients who showed up for suicidal ideation had a subcutaneous insulin drip that had some issue with being removed. So, I was called in mostly to make sure there was someone available to sit and observe the patient. And since I didn't already have a patient assignment, that ended up being me, too.

It was kind of frustrating, not because she was a bad person or something but because she was fine. She was calm, cooperative, didn't want to do anything to hurt herself but fully understood why she was on the unit. I of course can't leave her side because she might try to use the insulin to hurt herself. So, once we can take the injection pump away then she can go off the 1:1, but we can't for some weird reason I still don't understand.

The thing is, we're also on an abnormally cold unit right now. The building we're in is old, so the heating/cooling just sucks. Maintenance always tries to put off turning on the cooler in the summer and the heater in the winter because what if they turn on the heater and then there's a warm spell? Etc.

This was a problem because we just had a weirdly warm week, and a bunch of patients were complaining about heat on the unit. Now the cold is back, but the heater is off, and they haven't turned it back on. Everyone's wandering around the unit in paper scrubs and freezing! Last time this happened we just passed out the sweat shirts we usually give to homeless or destitute patients who just don't have anything to discharge with, and normally I'd do that... But I'm stuck on this 1:1! So I'm surrounded by patients getting more and more agitated and frustrated because not only are they stuck on a psych unit, but they're fucking cold and can't do anything but pile on more blankets!

One guy in particular was just getting more and more agitated, all shift. Felt really bad for him. Visibly increasing anxiety, choking back tears a few times. I didn't know his story, only that he was involuntary. Whenever I'd try to help him he'd start to just unload information on me, so clearly anxious about his whole situation. I'd try to do what I could for him but there was never much, in my position. I watched him just kinda "amp up" over the course of my shift.

Finally the doctors orders kick in (at the end of our shift) and I take the pump away, which marks the end of my patient's 1:1. First thing I do is grab a bunch of sweat shirt for everyone on the unit; Everyone is calmer and happier in like, 10 minutes. Then I personally take a sweater to the patient who's anxiety had been increasing all day, waking him up in his room for the sweat shirt. Guy was just showering me with thanks over it, and he started talking to me like he clearly wanted to do all day. And, since my shift was over and I didn't have any patients or paper work to do, all I did was listen.

I'm not gonna transcribe what we talked about here, even though I think it was interesting; He was just one of those guys who has a lot going for him outside the hospital in terms of money, jobs, making things happen for himself. Struggles with PTSD from a fucked up childhood and one or two chronic medical conditions, that about sums it up. This admission was a complete accident, it never should have happened, his affi davit was filled out completely wrong and that's not what he said, etc. He got admitted to the hospital for something he didn't need to be admitted for, and just being here was making everything he had going for him outside the hospital worse for himself.

Standard case of "This admission is not what I needed, it's not helping me, I didn't want it, and it's making things worse." He was trying to hear from me what he could say to the doctors to hurry up and discharge, and begging me to help him understand if they were going to petition the courts fort a longer stay. It was a tough situation. I really wanted to listen to the guy vent and all, but I straight up never read his chart. I had no earthly idea what to say to him about his situation.

Which is probably fine honestly, because having someone listen to him was really all he needed. My shift ended, but I had been wanting to listen to this guy all fucking day and wound up staying an extra 45 minutes past my shift. Per his request to keep it between us, I just told his nurse for the night "He's got a lot of anxiety, and he really just needs someone to listen to." That went over pretty well.

He ended up shaking my hand before I left. Everyone was warmer and happier after I got to spend all of 10 minutes doing that. All I could think was "I could have done this exact same thing like 5 hours ago!"

Damnit all. Oh well, I think I'm getting some fancy overtime pay tomorrow.

#dear diary #diary entry #nursing #psych #psychiatry #psychosis #nurse #schizophrenia #cw: suicide #diabetes #insulin #involuntary admission #affi davit

[lauraneedstochill]

Tag Game!

Tagged by: lovely @i-killed-ramsey and @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, thank you, girlies! ✨💙

Your name? Laura (act surprised) (actually I have two first names but it’s very annoying and I only use the second one when I don’t want to share personal information)

Your sun sign? Cancer (if I hear a single joke about this, I’ll murder you in your sleep)

The last thing you listened to? Hozier “Eat Your Young”

What are you wearing? Black sweatpants, white t-shirt

How tall are you? 171 cm

Piercings? Two in each ear and I’ll get a third one soon (…and then some)

Tattoos? None but I’d really like to get at least one

Glasses? Contacts? I’ve been wearing contacts since I was fourteen (putting them on for the first time was a total nightmare though). I wear glasses at home but never outside ‘cause in the summer you need shades (here’s your daily reminder to protect your eyes and also wear your SPF ✨), and in winter it’s all “snow in your face, can’t see a thing” and also glasses steam up when you get inside… basically I’m too anxious already to deal with all that

Last drink? Just had a glass of water and then opened a can of energy drink (it’s all about BALANCE lmao)

Last thing you ate? Had a protein shake (not a fan of those, especially since most vegan options suck but I kinda lost my appetite and it’s the fastest way to eat smth for me)

Any pets? None yet but I’d love to get a dog, at least one. And a cat. Both from a shelter 💔

Do you have a crush on anyone? Thankfully, no

Favorite fictional characters? Lisbeth Salander, Amy March, Jessica Jones, Aemond Targaryen

A movie you think everyone should watch? I have over 400 favorite movies so I’ll name a few from the top of my head: Intouchables, A Good Year, The Martian (all three always help to cheer me up), Forrest Gump, The Lives of Others, The Pursuit of Happyness, Crash

A book you think everyone should read? “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” (it’s the gold standard for me when it comes to detective stories), “The Master and Margarita” (I obviously read all the Russian classics and I can honestly say I actually love this one). also “All The Bright Places” (pls ignore the movie, the book is way better BUT TW: suicide, mental illness. it did shatter my heart but helped me to feel better at the end. still, read at your own risk).

The last place you traveled? Italy

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @theold-ultraviolence, @jasonsmirrorball, @ripdragonbeans, @st-eve-barnes, @1800-fight-me, @inmydreamswestay 🌸

#tag games #about me

[sheep-from-rad]

—Can’t sleep? Notes: The only game that lasted 2 years on my phone. 2 years and counting. I started playing Genshin before January started so now it has competition. I’m still a newbie at writing smut please bear with me. Warning: AFAB!reader (no pronouns), MINORS DNI, notsfw, fingerf/cking, pet name (darling), you get called as ‘good girl’ Lucifer x reader Masterlist

To say that it’s cold is an understatement. If Devildom’s summer is scorching, it’s winter meanwhile is straight up General Winter having a rage and deciding to bring another ice age.You’re getting used to the heat but the sudden cold made your body almost into a 360. You’re lucky that Solomon provided some assistance but it only worked for a few hours because right now at bedtime, the cold doubled. It’s too cold even the thickest of the quilts still feel like thin blankets on your skin. Behind you, a tired Lucifer grumbled. “Stop squirming.”

Due to the unforeseen cold that just suddenly blanketed Devildom in white, his work was cancelled by Diavolo who insisted that he should stay in case trouble happens. That brings him, you, the brothers, Solomon and the angels back to Diavolo’s castle for a sleepover. “It’s too cold”, you complained, snuggling closer and forming yourself into a ball. Lucifer lifted his head up, supporting it with his arm as he turned to look at you. Hidden under two layers of quilt and burying yourself into the pillows for warmth, the Devildom’s climate and temperatures are not exactly the most welcoming to humans. He let himself collapse to the soft pillow once more, thinking to himself. “I know a thing that can help you warm up and fall asleep”, he whispered.

“You do?”

He hummed. “Only if you let me do it.”

You turned to look at Lucifer who’s hands only turned you back to your previous position and pressed you close to his chest. “What do you say about it?” You felt him smirk behind you. Lucifer, despite having a stern disposition, behind closed doors is as mischievous as the avatar of lust Asmodeus himself. He knows too well how to persuade those who are around him. Guess that is what makes him a demon himself.

“What do I get from it?”

Lucifer rested his head closer, feeling his hot breath on your neck. “You’ll get warmed up and you will finally fall asleep? What do you think?” You turned to look and see his eyes. Those crimson jewels have bluish glow under the foggy, snow blanketed Devildom moon. With that you said yes to the devil himself.

Lucifer pressed you closer to his chest, his entire body warmth engulfs your body, making you feel small. “Oh we’re gonna cudd-” That’s when you felt his arms snaking around your form. His long fingers made its way to the hem of your clothing. The right one on the top and the other on your shorts. “Lucifer”, you moaned as his cold fingers started brushing your breast and into your nipples. “Hush now, you don’t want anyone to hear us don’t you?” He pressed a kiss to your neck and he continued his ministrations.

Lucifer placed one of his legs between your thigh, creating a bigger space for his hands to work on. “I haven’t done anything and you’re already soaked. Have you been fantasizing darling?” He patted the clothed flesh before pushing your panties to the side, running your fingers to your wet lips. “I think Asmodeus is rubbing on you, darling. You’re turning to a very dirty darling.”

He gives your clit a few flicks, watching your expression turn to pleasure. Much to your dismay Lucifer pulled his fingers off you and in front of your mouth. “Suck on it”, he commanded. Lucifer let out a deep chuckle as you eagerly sucked on his fingers and almost bit it. “No biting, MC. Biting can be done when the cold dissipates.” He pressed another kiss to your neck before pulling off your mouth.

As his fingers made its way down, the other hand pinched on your hard bud making you arch your bud. “Your pulse is getting faster and sweat is forming on your skin. Should we stop now?” You shook your head. “No.”

“No? But you’re already warmed up. What do you want me to do?”

“I want your fingers.”

Lucifer raised his body into a sitting position with you still imprisoned in his arms. The quilt created a nest around the two of you, making the warmth stay. “I won’t be able to know what you want if you won’t speak. Tell me, what do you want?” His tone is stronger now. The tone that he uses when one of his brothers misbehaves. You can feel your cheeks heat up. Maybe he’s right about you spending too much time with Asmo.

“I want your fingers”

“Yeah, what about my fingers?”

“I want you to fuck me with your fingers.”

Lucifer positioned you comfortably to avoid your back pain. His fingers dived back to your exposed sex. You turned your head to face him and gave him a kiss. You tried to hide your moan as he fingers swirled in your insides, stretching and purposely brushing at the bundle of nerves. Lucifer removed his hand that was playing with your chest and let you fall back to bed. His fingers started to pump faster and started chasing your orgasm.

“Close your eyes, darling.”

As you did, the balloon that was forming exploded. Your legs shook and your eyelids became heavier. It didn’t take too long until sleep claimed you. Lucifer smiled to himself as he pulled his fingers out and licked it clean. He’ll get a towel later once you fall deeper to sleep. He tucked you properly back to the bundle of quilt before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Good night darling.”

#obey me! shall we date? #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me x y/n #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me luci x reader #mc x lucifer #obey me mc #obey me shall we date

[pvvnsies]

a star’s deception | prologue (p. pevensie)

summary: when peter is confronted with an undesirable proposal, his best friend seren jumps in to save the day. well, sort of. she announces to a court of suitors that her and the king have been dating and are eagerly awaiting marriage. however, this is only a temporary fix to a much larger problem and the two friends must divide real feelings from fake in time for the royal wedding of the millennium.

chapter: 00 - prologue

pairing: peter pevensie x huntress!oc

warnings: abuse, murder, blood, violence, swearing

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

a/n: hello :) welcome to my new series ‘a star’s deception’. i am super excited for this bc i’m a very big fake dating enjoyer. before u start reading i just want to say that i’m looking for a small handful of beta readers for this story. this prologue took me about two weeks to draft and perfect, and unfortunately I just don’t have the time to go over these with as much attention to detail as i would like. so if you’re interesting in offering feedback/slight editing help message me and we can discuss further details. ANYWAY thank u so much and enjoy the prologue :))) p.s. i suck at writing synopses. helpppp

         Castor turns to look at me, he’s suspicious but I know the look in his eye. It’s the kind of look the promise of safety can give you after it only being a dream for so long. The look of hope.

I flinch as my bedroom door opens, every muscle turning to stone as I clench my fist over the two pills. However, it’s Castor who enters and not my father, a swirl of blue and purple blooming across his cheek. The question forms on my lips, but the words die in my throat as I already know the answer. At least my father has some sort of consistency in his life.

         Castor limps over to my bed, his dark eyes are distant, the faded pink scar under his lip curling with his frown. Anger burns in my chest as he lowers himself onto the end of my bed, groaning softly with the effort. Silence stretches between us as I contemplate comforting him but I eventually decide against it. Somehow, it only angers him more. 

         Instead, I open my palm to reveal the sleeping pills I’d stolen from my friend’s bathroom cabinet earlier today. Castor stares at them incredulously, an unfamiliar light igniting across his face.

         “Are they…” Castor’s voice trails off, glancing at my closed bedroom door. “Are those really sleeping pills?”

         I nod, not bothering to fight the excitement out of my voice, “The bottle recommended one but I took two just to be sure.”

         “Seren,” He exhales, scooping the pills into his own hand. “Seren, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I say, knowing that getting the pills is the easy part of this escape.

Castor nods, understanding. “Get the bags ready.”

         “Be careful,” I warn, unsure if the nausea in my stomach is from anxiety or excitement.

         Castor slips back out into the hallway just as the house begins to fill up with the all too familiar stench of cigar smoke. I scramble from my bed and drag my desk chair over to my wardrobe. The chair rocks as I climb onto it, and I reach into the top shelf of my wardrobe, pulling out the two duffle bags Castor had made me pack a few months ago. The bruise on my ribs screams with the effort of dropping the first heavy bag to the floor, but I’m too elated to care.

         I can’t help but fantasize about what is to come, about the possibility of a brighter future. If all goes accordingly, we’ll be on a train to France, far from our wasted life here in London. Soon, our wounds will heal and the threat of new ones will no longer be a worry. Castor would turn eighteen next week, go to university in the fall, live the life he deserves. I’ll go to a new school, and nobody will have to question why I’m wearing our winter blouse in the blazing summer’s heat.

         “What the hell are you doing, boy?”

         My heart stops. The fantasy I have created fades into a dark abyss as I spill out into the hallway. I step over a few dirty clothes and an empty Chinese food container as I enter the kitchen, where our father has found Castor crushing up the sleeping pills. Castor’s gaze flits over my father’s shoulder to me, reminding me of how much I hate seeing him scared.

         “I’m getting you a drink like you asked,” Castor defends weakly, putting the knife down next to the bottle of whiskey.

         My father takes Castor by the arm and slams him against the fridge, causing an unopened bottle of Brandy to fall and smash into pieces. A dark liquid pools around Castor’s feet, a mixture of alcohol and blood. The scene blurs as tears stain my cheeks and shaking palms hovering over my mouth. “Who do you take me for? Huh? Huh?!”

         “I take you for nothing,” Castor spits. “You’re nothing but a shitty dad and a sad, old drunk whose wife fucking left him.”

         I don’t flinch the way I used to when the first punch lands with a crack on Castor’s nose, nor do I cower as a velvety liquid splutters down his chin and stains his white button down . Rather, I step over the mess of Brandy and shards of glass and tear my father away from Castor before he can go in for seconds. His eyes are glazed over, but are alight with a certain rage I don’t recognise. He is drunker than I expected.

         “You little bitch, how dare you?” He fumes, gripping my shoulders firmly. 

         His fist is hard and cruel against my stomach and his surprising strength sends me to my knees, gasping for air. I brace myself for another hit, tightening the msucles in my stomach just as Castor had taught me. However, the pain never reaches me. Reluctantly, I open my eyes to see him on the floor, clutching his stomach. 

Castor stands above him, a tremor to his hand as he drops a bloody knife to the floor. My father slumps against the kitchen cabinet, eyes wide and mouth agape. His breath comes in short, uneven intervals as he slowly brings his blood-soaked fingers into view, fully grasping his soon demise.

         “Cas,” I say softly, helping myself to my feet. Castor doesn’t register my voice and doesn’t look away from our dying father. My hand wraps around his wrist, “Cas. Come on.”

“I,” He stammers, swallowing thickly. “I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” I reassure. “But we need to go. Right now.”

“We can’t just leave him!” He argues, wrangling his wrist from my grip. “He’ll die!”

“Isn’t that what we’ve wanted this whole time?”

         Castor softens at my words, finally understanding what this is. It isn’t a murder, but an opportuinty for freedom. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

We both trail back to my bedroom, and for the first time, I don’t close the door behind me. Castor is already on the other side, heaving open my window. A frigid breeze fills my room as he manages to open the window, revealing a snowstorm that must have begun brewing only minutes before.

         I briefly consider grabbing our winter coats from my closet, but Castor has already pushed my halfway outside as the thought crosses my mind. I almost slip on the sleet that coats the overhang, but I manage to steady myself. The air bites at my exposed flesh, and my entire body trembles as I latch onto the downspout and brace myself for the fall. Castor climbs out, shutting the window behind him and catching my gaze. We smile at each. Even though we’re hurting and cold, we share a moment of triumph. Halfway out of this bullshit.

         I take the bags and dump them off the roof into our front garden, although I can hardly see where they land through the snowfall. Despite the pain that lingers as a ghost in this house’s hall, I find it hard to let go of the downspout. There’s still time, I could save my father and maybe he’ll see what he’s done to this family. But I know better than to think any of this is salvageable.

  Castor lands a hand on my arm, offering an expression that tells me he knows what I’m thinking but I have to let go. So I do. I don’t look back as I turn and jump from the ledge, everything falls with me in slow motion as I hit the ground. I dig my fingers into the… grass?

         Instead of a pillowy bed of snow, I’ve landed in a patch of the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. Grass that London’s winters could never accommodate that’s for sure. I stand and dust the dirt from my pleated skirt, trying to comprehend the fact that I hadn’t landed in my front garden, but the middle of the woods, not an inch of snow in sight.

         “What the hell?” Castor exclaims, coming to stand next to me. “Tell me this isn’t some kind of sick dream.”

         “How many fingers are on your hands?” I ask, checking mine. Ten.

         “What?”

         “How many fingers are on your hands?” I echo, tilting my chin to meet his gaze. Castor looks at me puzzled. “If you’re dreaming, you’ll have more than ten fingers.”

         Castor raises his bloodied palms to his face, before returning his attention to me. “If we aren’t dreaming then where are we?”

         I open my mouth to answer, but it seems as though I don’t need to.

         “Narnia,” A voice says from behind us.

         We both turn to face a boy with golden blonde hair, perhaps a year older than I, sitting on the back of a dark brown stallion. 

         “Narni-what?” Castor repeats.

         The boy laughs and slides effortlessly from his saddle, “Narnia.”

         “Okay, but we were just at our house a minute ago,” I say, desperately trying to make sense of this situation. I don’t want this to be a dream. This can’t be a dream.

         “And now you’re here,” He replies. “What are your names?”

         “I’m Seren and this is Cast-”

         “Who are you?” Castor interrupts, taking a step forward.

         “I’m Peter, one of the Kings,” He explains and I almost scoff. He’s just a boy, how could he be King? “My brother should be around here somewhere. When he gets back we’ll take you to the Cair and explain everything over tea.” Peter pauses, perhaps taking a moment to observe the state of us. “But you’re safe here, that I promise.”

          Castor turns to look at me, clearly suspicious but I know the look in his eye. It’s the kind of look the promise of safety can give you after it only being a dream for so long. The look of hope.

#peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #narnia #narnia fanfic #friends to lovers #fake dating #royal fake dating #romance #william moseley #narnia fanfiction #narnia fake dating

[queenkrissy11-fandomaccount]

Long Gone - Bucky Barnes x Reader

After weeks of a strained relationship, one fight and a surprise is enough for Y/N to run away and not look back.

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be long gone. Don’t look for me, you won’t find anything.

You suck in a deep breath and tuck the note into the door. No turning back now.

Sure, you and Buck had your ups and downs but last night was different.

You were dealing with a depressive episode when he came home to the compound. You tried not to bother him with your sour feelings and it worked. He didn’t notice, though you weren’t sure how he could have when he didn’t wander in until well past midnight and smelt like cheap rum.

Then he had the nerve to try and crawl into your bed without a word.

“Are you joking?” You finally muttered.

“What?”

“Are you that drunk or just that clueless?” You demanded. “You left a shitty note about going to check out a terrorist threat and then ignored my texts all day. And then followed it with a trip to the bar before letting you fiancée know you’re alive? I’ve been worried sick for hours!”

He stopped pulling on the covers and rolled his eyes, “Sorry I didn't text you back, doll. I was busy saving the world. And who cares if I went for a drink?”

You knew it sounded like an over reaction but it went much deeper than that. You’d been having panic attacks left and right the past weeks over his job and he knew that. He had sat on the floor with you in his arms and assured you he’d check in when possible. Told you how he’d call you after every fight to tell you he was okay. You came to find there was no substance behind his words. They were just sweet nothings to calm you down.

“Why would Steve be returning my calls before you? I’m not worried about a stupid night at the bar! I feel like I’m losing you and you don’t care!”

A part of you knew you were looking to start a fight, to feel something from him other than indifference and annoyance. It had been a couple weeks since he’d shown any sign of giving a shit about you. You needed to know if there was anything left before you told him the latest news. You didn’t want Bucky if it was just for the baby. Sure, you knew he would step up but you didn’t know if that was for the best. An avenger for a father and parents that didn’t want to be together? You were pretty sure the baby inside you would be better off raised by a single mother in the middle of nowhere, far from the long list of enemies Bucky had.

He glared for a long second before snatching a pillow, “I’m not dealing with this tonight. I’ll be on the couch if that overbearing urge to check up on me gets to strong.” He slammed the door behind him and you broke into sobs.

You allowed yourself five minutes to be upset before wiping your tears and setting off to pack a bag. You didn’t grab much, only a weeks worth of clothes, a gun, and the running away back pack Tony had made for you. You tucked the duffel and the back pack underneath the bed.

You were faking it when Buck crept in the next morning to get ready for the job of the day. He hesitated in front of you and for a moment you were ready to throw your plans out the door. He shook his head and moved on and your resolve grew. You were leaving and it would be for the best.

Once he was gone you scribbled out the note and fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger. You knew you should leave it but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. You still loved him even if he didn’t love you. It wouldn’t hurt to bring one part of him with you. You glanced at your still small stomach, well, two.

Pepper didn’t bat an eye at your request to borrow a car. You snagged the keys to one of the nondescript SUVs and took off. About a mile down the road you pulled over and ripped out the tracking software on the car. You threw it in the dumpster behind a 7-11 along with your cell phone.

You drove, only stopping for gas, until you hit a small town in Virginia. You knew the town well but no one would know you. Every summer from the ages of 5 to 15 was enough to make an impact on you but not the town. You pulled into the drive of your grandmother’s old house. You had inherited the place when she died a couple years ago but due to working with the Avengers you didn’t have a need for it. The key slipped right into the deadbolt. The place looked just how you remembered it, only with more dust. The furniture was still there but you found what was all. The small knick knacks and mementoes were gone, likely claimed by other family members after her passing. 

The old clock on the wall said it was 5. Plenty of time to get started on cleaning the place up.

It was a long and hard pregnancy. The super soldier serum running through your son added a couple complications. He grew fast and was much stronger than he should be. He did a number on your body from the inside but it was all worth it when you held him in your arms. You cursed your luck when he came out with a head full of dark hair and winter blue eyes. 

You found work at a diner, making a living in tips. The great thing about tips is they tend to be paid in cash and it’s hard to trace cash. You were careful. No one was going to find you or your son. Andrew became the light of your life

Life was peaceful, a bit repetitive but safe. The biggest threat was your neighbor Travis. You would take a borderline stalker over Nazis any day. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” You mutter to yourself when Travis saunters into the diner. He was your typical tool. Peaked in high school playing football. Can’t handle rejection. Full of himself. 

“Good afternoon, table for one?” You put on a sweet smile.

“Just me, babygirl.” A chill runs down your spine but you shake it off and lead him to an empty booth. 

“I’ll give you a minute to decide what you want but can I get you a drink?” You hand over the laminated menu.

“I already know exactly what I want and I think you do too.” He gives you a smirk and you have to resist the urge to jam your pen into his eye. 

“Bacon cheeseburger?” You ask innocently.

He laughs it off but hands you his menu so you turn to put his order into the kitchen. You can feel his eyes on you as he walks away. 

The day drags on and Travis sticks around. First for an order of fries. Then a shake. By the time that’s gone it’s late enough for a couple beers. He finally pays his tab and leaves ten minutes before closing. You’re relieved until you notice his Honda still in the parking lot when you leave. 

You pat the holster in the waistband of your pants before making your way to the SUV in the back of the parking lot. The silver car tails you and it takes four right turns before you could go to pick up Andrew from his sitter. 

Travis was back home when you finally pulled in. You double checked that the door was locked behind you before you went upstairs with Andy. He toddled around your room while you got ready for bed. Tonight you didn’t feel like fighting him on sleeping in the crib so you tucked him in you arms in your own bed. 

Around two in the morning you woke up to the sound of glass shattering. You jumped out of bed with Andrew in your arms and grabbed the gun next to your bed. 

Creeping down the stair you hear someone in the kitchen. You’re only ten feet from the front door. You take a deep breath, set Andrew at your feet, and bring the gun up. You were trained by Avengers. You wouldn’t miss the shot as long as you didn’t hesitate. You wait for the figure to come into view and pull the trigger. The deafening bang goes off and he hits the ground. You snatch up Andrew and run for the door. Travis is next to you before you can get in your car. 

“What’s going on? I heard a gun?” He’s half naked and more alert than he was when he left the diner. 

You’re scrambling for your keys when your front door flies off the hinges and the man you just shot steps out. 

“This isn’t happening! How is it still following me?” You’re breaths are struggling to come and go. You push Andrew into Travis’ arms and aim at the man again. It doesn’t seem to do any damage. It just pisses him off. You take another shot and get the same result. You’re about to try again when a blur of a figure tackles the man. The moonlight catches on one of his arms and you’re frozen in place. 

You grab the toddler and turn to run but Travis is a little too ready to play hero. He picks you up bridal style and runs.

He doesn’t make it fifty feet before a blond wall of muscle stops him. “Y/N?” Steve mutters after pulling you out of his arms. “What, what are you doing here?” Andrew begins crying louder and clinging to you. Steve finally looks down and has to take a step back. 

“I can explain,” You start. Suddenly, you’re pushed to the pavement and Travis is throwing a punch at Captain America. Steve’s head turns with the force but his body stays planted. You kick yourself at the satisfaction you feel when Steve shoves Travis back. He crouches down in front of you and offers a hand.

“Let’s try that explanation now.” 

You hear Bucky scoff behind him, “This will be good.” He freezes in his tracks when he takes in the site. You’re wearing a silk slip on the ground clutching a child that can’t be much more than a year old. 

He stares for a long moment before shaking himself out of it and shrugging off his jacket. He wraps it around your shoulders before helping you to your feet. 

You’re caught off guard by the rush of emotions when you look at him and hot tears well in your eyes, “I am so sorry Buck.”

He tries to be mad but can’t stop himself from pulling you into his arms. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, relishing in the feeling of you in his arms again. Andrew reaches his arms up and around your neck protectively, finally catching Bucky’s attention. 

He steps back suddenly, “Who’s this?”

You swallow hard, knowing the storm that’s coming. “This is your son. Andrew James Barnes.”

“My what?” He looks at you in disbelief then back to Andrew.

“Let’s go inside?” You suggest.

Bucky stops inside the doorway and admires the wall of pictures. The majority of them Andrew at every stage so far. You were in a few with him but there was only a handful of just you. They’re different stages of your pregnancy. He swallows hard when he takes in the sight of you in the third month. That’s when the toll started being taken. He broke the first rib kicking right around that time. He was delivered at six months, the serum making him grow much faster. As the pictures got closer to delivery you looked more and more like a corpse. Bucky hated that he wasn’t there for you for any of it, that he didn’t even know you were dealing with it. 

“He definitely takes after you. The serum is in his DNA.” You say quietly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you just leave and take my child with you?” You can hear the emotion behind each of his words.

“You didn’t want to be with me and I wasn’t going to make you feel obligated to.” You knew it sounded pathetic, “And you have enough enemies to worry about. I didn’t want that for our son.”

“Our son,” He repeats quietly. “How is he so big? You’ve only been gone for a year.”

You rub and hand over his cropped hair, “His development is a lot faster than  a normal childs. He’s only about seven months old but he compares to children almost twice that, but even then he’s much stronger.” 

“Can I hold him?” He seems unsure of himself but you happily hand him over.

Bucky extends his fingers to Andrew in his lap. Andy curiously takes two in his small hands and you flinch, knowing how tight his grip can get. Bucky watches him, unfazed by the ridiculous strength. He holds Andrew close to him for a few minutes before Andrew tries to climb back to you.

“You’re both coming back to the compound.” Bucky stands up.

“Like hell we are! This is our home. This is where we’re safe. And I won’t let you feel obligated to take me back because we have a baby.”

He gives you a serious look, “Bullshit. That ring on your finger says you’re still mine. And in what world is this safer than the compound? An alien broke in tonight!”

Before you knew it you were in the quinjet headed back to the base. Bucky never let you out of his sight. On the bright side, the ride provided plenty of time for apologies. Neither of you were happy with the others choices but you could understand them and move past them.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x single mom #bucky one shot #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky fluff

[diavolosthots]

Request are opeeeeeen yay

Oh, well, could you please do a comforting scenario with Belphie and a depressed MC that's usually very cheerful but not right now (y'know, because of✨ Seasonal depression✨) with a lot of fluff and love?

Thank you in advance, and thank you also for all the things you write! It is amazing!!!

Requests are not open, this is from last time. Also i love how you go to emo boy for seasonal depression haha

Warning: mentions of seasonal depression

As the Seasons Change (BELPHEGOR X GN!READER)

As if life wasn’t already complicated enough as it is, it also just had to throw yearly change at you. The warm, fun, light, bright, and outdoors-y stuff was suddenly replaced by cold, long nights and tons of darkness. Now, for some people, this was great. Who doesn’t prefer shorter days and more sleep? But to people like you, this just put you into a spiral of moodiness. Everything that you looked forward to in Spring and Summer suddenly got taken away and it wasn’t… it just made you feel bad, you know? Things are dying, animals go into hibernation, and people are dressing more darkly. It’s almost as if the world decided to be emo for 6 months out of the year and as much as that is okay, it really isn't. You liked the sunshine and warm days with the softest of breezes. The beautiful flowers and trees and animals that come out to play. Of course, people also just seemed happier. It’s beautiful, to you. Besides, the Devildom already gave you a shock with its constant darkness but you somewhat got used to it, up until Diavolo decided that he needed to “keep up with the human realm” and decided to bring winter down here. So now instead of dark and hot as hell, it was dark and cold as hell. Seriously, it may not be affecting the demons too much but how did he think his two human and two angel exchange students would react?

Still, you can’t blame it all on Diavolo. The guy was trying to do something nice by bringing a little bit of human into the Devildom, probably forgetting that not all humans react the same way to sudden change and or dark and cold dynamics in general. Bottom line is, you were less than pleased. Your moods spun out of control ranging from sadness to anger to not feeling worthy. It was a confusing time and right now, the most you could feel was ‘okay’. “Lucifer, why don’t demons get weirded out by the sudden change in temperature?” You hoped that the eldest could give you some type of explanation or maybe even a little bit of sympathy so you didn’t think you were the only one, but he only shrugged. “Demons adapt easily. We have to, otherwise we’d be tormented by our own minds.” It wasn’t exactly the answer you were looking for and Lucifer could tell, but it didn’t take away from the fact that that was the only answer you would be getting out of him. 

You hated this, genuinely. You even tried talking to Diavolo about it but it seemed to fly right over the guy’s head. “Haha isn’t this fun? I forgot what the cold feels like!” No, Diavolo, it’s not fun. Did you know that some people prefer the cold and get depressed over summer too??? No??? Well, then don’t assume! Of course, you didn’t say that to the Demon Lord because although he himself never scared you, you were terrified of what Barbatos may do had you disrespected the future King like that. You felt alone because even Solomon preferred the dark and although the angels are being of light, they didn’t seem to be affected much by this either. Was it just a human thing? Maybe just a you thing? The more you thought about it, the lonelier you felt and the brothers began to notice your change in behavior. How couldn’t they? They felt bad for you. Beel tried to cheer you up with food, which usually made you laugh, but now you’re just turning away from him. 

Belphegor is the only one who somewhat seemed indifferent, although his looks at you lasted a little longer than usual. Usually you’d annoy him with your constant happiness and ability to jump around everywhere, so now that it’s gone, it’s weird that he actually kind of misses it. “Come cuddle with me.” “Belphie I do---!” But he didn’t even care. He just grabbed you and then dragged you up into the attic with him. That’s probably the most exercise he’s done in a while: dragging someone up the stairs, but it was worth it. Kinda. Maybe. “I didn’t ask. I told you.” You rolled your eyes at him because when does he ever ask? He just does his thing and seems endlessly happy with that, although something told you that was the biggest lie. 

“I don’t want to cuddle.” Now he’s rolling his eyes, falling down onto the bed in the attic and holding out his arms to you. “Maybe you don’t want it, but you definitely need it. Stop fighting with me.” you groaned but gave in, falling down beside him, trying to keep at least some space between the two of you, but Belphie didn’t care and immediately rolled closer, putting his head on your chest. “Stroke my hair and tell me what’s wrong.” What? See this is why you and Belphie rarely ever hang out. He’s so demanding, so needy, and you swore he rivaled Leviathan at times. Levi would beg you to stay until you would, though, and Belphie would just have a death grip on you. Right now you didn’t know which was worse. “Belphie I don’t… I don’t want to.” “Fine then just hold me, but talk to me.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him because that seemed like a fair compromise and he was already half on top of you so what’s the point of arguing? 

“I just… my emotions are all over the place. I’m sad and then I’m angry. I get annoyed and then I get lonely… it’s because Diavolo changed the damn weather…” You felt stupid for saying that out loud and you could almost guarantee that Belphie thought the same thing, but he didn’t say anything, instead waiting for you to go on. “I just got used to the dark and the hot of the Devildom and now it’s… it’s dark and cold and it feels lonely and empty and I can’t cope with that. He did it to be ‘hip’ or whatever with the human world but he fails to realize that just because it happens naturally up there, doesn’t mean people like that.” “So you got seasonal depression.” You nodded, slowly beginning to let your fingers run over his back while he wrapped himself around you. Well, he more so climbed fully on top of you and snuggled his face into your neck. It tickled a bit so you managed to let out a little giggle, but it disappeared just as quickly. 

“Yeah… I was… you know I could’ve gotten used to just having dark and hot all year around but then he goes and does this and I can’t feel happy right now… everything is just so sad and gloomy. Spring just started in the human world and yet Diavolo decides to start late and extend winter…” Belphie snorted, finding amusement in your words. He has his own opinions about his Demon Lord, including the fact that that guy is a huge himbo, but he could never voice that out loud. Not when he knows Lucifer lives under the same roof as him. “He sucks. But you know… this does give you an excuse to just lay with me all day.” And yes, he truly believes that’s a good thing. Why wouldn’t it be? No expectations, just sleep and cuddles. He pulls his head out of your neck and leans up a bit, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Just stay with me. I can make you sleep until Lord Diavolo decides winter is done. He’s going to get tired of it sooner or later.” 

You laughed softly at his proposal, shaking your head a bit. “I don’t know if you’re aware but humans need to eat and drink and you’d have me play sleeping beauty, meaning I’d die due to the lack of food and water in my body.” Belphie only shrugged, laying his head back down and snuggling closer. He was behaving like a baby right now, but a cute baby, who wouldn’t let you go. “I don’t see the issue, but suit yourself.” Of course the Avatar of Sloth wouldn’t see the issue. You rolled your eyes again and then poked his sides before holding him tightly. “You’re warm….” “I know.” Another eye roll but you also couldn’t help but smile. He’s such an idiot but at least you’re not alone right now. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer… for just a little bit.” 

Belphie smiled into your neck, kissing it gently before closing his eyes, “I thought so.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #belphegor x reader #belphegor x mc #belphegor obey me #belphegor avatar of sloth #mc x belphegor #belphie x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #tw mentions of depression

[tobesoalive]

flume (Josh Kiszka x reader)

sorry about the wait! like I said I'm in the process of moving so I've been quite busy but I'm hoping to get around to my other requests in the next few days. For now though please enjoy this tooth rotting fluff about our favorite little lad!

Warnings: None

Finally, you let out a sigh of relief as you shut your laptop, having just finished writing a paper for a class you were taking over the summer. You had wanted to get a head start on your academics so you could hopefully graduate in the winter, leaving you more time to start your career and life with your amazing, sexy and talented boyfriend.

Joshua Kiszka was the love of your life, the apple of your eye, and you were absolutely obsessed with him. The feeling was mutual, never did a day pass by where Josh didn’t remind you how much you mean to him and how lucky he was to exist in the same universe as you. Yes, he could get a little sappy, but that just made you love him even more.

It was already 10pm, and Josh had been gone for a few hours now, meeting up with the rest of the band and their management team to discuss the upcoming tour over dinner. You were completely fine having a night alone, it actually gave you time to focus on your work rather than your extremely distracting other half. You had just been worried about Josh lately. On the outside he was his usual hyper and positive self, but you know that he has been worrying non-stop about the upcoming tour. It had been a little while since the guys performed live and Josh was riddled with anxiety about it. You knew it would go off without a hitch and that the fans would absolutely love it, but you understood Josh’s feelings and made sure to let him know they were valid and offer your support. To make matters worse the band, specifically Josh, had been gaining attention on social media, with a video of their performance from SNL a couple years ago going viral. There were a lot of people criticizing Josh’s performance and mannerisms, many of them saying he was probably addicted to cocaine or something. That was far from the truth though.

You remember that night, being backstage with Josh and trying to calm his nerves. Not only was he dealing with anxiety but he was also a bit under the weather. Personally you loved the performance, and thought Josh did amazing justice to the song he wrote about you. Everytime you hear “You’re the One” your heart basically beats out of your chest.

Now you just couldn’t wait for the Kiszka boy to be home so you could hear all about his day.

Around 10:30 you heard the door open and you made your way down the stairs from your room. Josh was setting his keys on the counter and before you could even say anything he was covering his face with his hands, obviously trying to hide his expression from you.

“Joshy, baby come here” you said gently as you made your way over to him. You wrapped your arms tight around him, breathing in his wonderful scent, as he finally loosened up and returned the hug. You could feel him softly cry into your shoulder, your hand immediately going to the back of his head, petting his hair and cooing “You’re okay baby, it's going to be okay”.

After a minute he pulled away from the embrace, arms still wrapped around you, with a few tears still running down his face. “Thank you” he said quietly in a hoarse voice, offering a small smile.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s going on?” you ask him, completely fine if he refused.

“I’ve just never been so nervous in my life, and all the backlash and rumors about me online aren’t helping.”

“Babe I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how stressed and overwhelmed you must be. Just know that I personally think you are absolutely astounding, and I’m sure there are millions of people who would agree. You will always have me, no matter what anyone says or even if you completely suck on tour, which I know for a fact you won’t.”

Josh chuckles a little and says “Thanks love, you have such a way with words”

You roll your eyes, “C’mon Josh you know what I’m trying to say, I’ve never been one to sugar coat things now have I?”

He pulls you in again before whispering “I seriously have no idea what I’d do without you, you are my rock and my safe space.”

You pull back only to grab his face in between your palms and give him a passionate kiss.

“Come on lover boy, why don't you go take a warm shower and then we can curl up in bed.”

“That sounds amazing”

You both make your way upstairs and as Josh goes in the bathroom you change into a pair of soft shorts and one of his shirts.

You’re about to go get two glasses of water when your boyfriend pops his head out of the bathroom door.

“Hey, I know it’s kind of a weird question but...I just don’t wanna be alone right now, so would you mind just sitting in here while I shower?”

“Not at all” you say, giving him a reassuring smile.

You go in the bathroom and leave the door open, Josh is in just his boxers as you hop up onto the counter and sit with your back against the wall. He peels his last garment of clothing off as you steal a quick peek at his ass, what can you say, it’s pretty damn cute.

As he shampoos his hair and soaps up his body you two talk about nothing in particular, just doing your usual silly bickering about different film meanings or which John Denver song is the best.

Once he gets out, he quickly pats himself off with a towel, throwing on a pair of soft tan shorts.

As he assumes his position in your bed you go grab the glasses of water you had intended to earlier. After coming up and handing him his cup you get under the covers and pull them up only about halfway. You wrap yourself around Josh, knowing that in his vulnerable state you need to be the big spoon and cradle him like he usually does for you.

You press a few kisses to his temple and the back of his neck before saying goodnight.

“Thank you again, for everything. It is impossible to put into words how much it means to me, how much YOU mean to me.”

“You don’t even need to use words baby, I feel it all the time, I’m convinced our souls are intertwined.”

“And that makes me the luckiest guy on earth”

“And I am the luckiest girl. I love you, try and get some sleep baby”

You’re able to catch his last few words before you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

“You’re my one.”

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fan fic #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka imagine #sam kiszka #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka smut #Danny Wagner imagine #danny wagner #Danny Wagner smut #Danny Wagner fanfic #peaceful army

[honey-dewey]

Moreno Family Movie Night

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/GN! Reader

Word Count: 1,658

Warnings: Mentions of the events of the movie Jaws, but this is 100% fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog​, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never seen Jaws?” 

Marcus looked up from the breakfast table, eyes wide. You and him had been talking about childhood movies and he’d admitted to never seeing the classic movie. “I dunno,” he said. “I just never saw it.” 

You sat beside him, still slightly shocked. “You were, what, a teenager in the 80’s?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And Jaws came out in the mid-seventies.” 

“Yep.” 

You stared at Marcus. “And you haven’t seen it!” You said, probably a bit louder than you should have.

Marcus laughed, taking your hand. “Babe, is it really that much of a tragedy that I haven’t seen Jaws?” 

Nodding, you kissed Marcus’s knuckles absently, already looking up movie tickets on your phone. “Yes it is, Mr. Moreno. Yes it is.” 

Two days later, you had a plan. There was a beautiful vintage drive-in theater that was doing a marathon of summer movies, and Jaws just so happened to be on the list. You got tickets, getting a third knowing Missy would probably be joining you, even if she just slept in the backseat the whole time. 

Naturally, you told Missy all about your plan first. 

“Hey kiddo,” you said, poking your head into her room the day before movie night. She was doing homework, but looked up when you came in. “Wanna go somewhere special tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah!” Missy said eagerly, jumping up. “What are we doing?” 

You smiled. “I’m taking you and your father to see Jaws at a drive-in.” 

Missy hugged you, her homework entirely abandoned. “Really?” she asked. “Is it scary?” 

Laughing, you nudged her back towards her desk. “Well, when it was made, it probably was. But now? Not really. The special effects are, pardon my language, complete shit.” 

“That sucks,” Missy groaned, flopping back into her chair. “But it’ll still be fun!” 

You nodded. “Yep. Gonna be fun.” 

The night of the movie, you insisted on going out to eat, as a treat because Marcus had been working his ass off at work and deserved to relax for one goddamn night. He accepted, grinning as you took him and Missy to your favorite tiny little burger place, just outside the drive-in. The burger place was technically a food truck, but the burgers were so damn good you didn’t care one bit. 

Sitting at a picnic table with your food, you sat practically in Marcus’s lap, handing him his burger and passing Missy’s across the table. The night was warm but not overly stifling, with the setting sun in the background and the gentle sounds of the evening rolling over. It was peaceful, even with Missy shooting you amused glaces in between fries. You simply smiled at her, giving her the barest of head shakes when Marcus wasn’t looking. 

“So,” you said, stealing one of Marcus’s fries and smiling at him when he poked your side. “Missy, how was school?” You were trying to keep the conversation mundane, so as not to give away your plan. 

“Good!” Missy said happily. “I started a new project in science today. It’s all about animal classifications.”

Marcus nodded along as she spoke. “Really?” 

“Mhm!” Missy hummed. “I got this list of animals, and I have to make a poster classifying all of them.” 

“Sounds fun,” you said, taking another fry, despite Marcus’s playful nudging for you to not. “And how’s your Heroics stuff going? I know you said last week there was a fight.” 

While Missy told you about how her after-school activity was going, you checked the time, smiling. Half an hour. 

When you were done with dinner and conversation, you ushered everyone back into the car, not wanting to be late for the movie. The sun had fully gone down, and you had a tiny bit of trouble finding the movie spot, but when you did, Marcus knew what was going on instantly. 

“I swear to god, if we’re seeing Jaws,” he said as you showed the attendant your tickets. “Missy is in the car!” 

“It’s a PG movie,” you reassured, smiling at the attendant when they told you where to park. “Well, PG by 1975 standards, but that means it’s PG-13 now.” 

Marcus sighed. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded, laying a hand on Marcus’s thigh after you’d parked. “Hon, I watched this movie about a dozen times when I was like, seven. She’ll live. Plus, it’s only PG-13 because people get eaten, duh, and you can see the silhouette of a woman’s bare boob for like, half a second. It will be okay.” 

Reassured, Marcus began to fiddle with the radio, as per the instructions on the screen in front of you. The radio fizzed and hissed, sound going fuzzy until he found the right frequency, playing smooth waiting music. 

“Ten minutes,” you said happily, looking into the backseat. “Now is the time for bathroom breaks.” 

Missy didn’t get up, only shifted to the middle seat and scooched forward a bit so she could see. Marcus got out, but only so he could grab a few blankets from the trunk that he kept in there for emergencies such as forgotten ones at sleepovers or a car breakdown in the winter. As he distributed the fuzzy blankets, you managed to find a once lost bag of gummy bears, now unearthed from your center console. You passed Missy a generous handful, leaving the bag open in the console for you and Marcus. Just as Missy asked when the movie was going to start, the lights dimmed, and the message faded from the screen. A cool voice said through the radio, “Please enjoy your movie,” and then, it had begun. 

You smiled, taking Marcus’s hand. The movie brought back millions of memories for you, mostly memories of crowded couches and late nights with extended families. Even now, you could still remember crawling into your father’s lap and falling asleep there near the end of the movie, although it may have been the middle, but you couldn’t recall that detail now. All you knew now was that you had to make this very first viewing memorable for Marcus and Missy, just as it had been memorable for you. 

“Okay, the first attack is kinda super scary, so be warned,” you said softly. “Missy, honey, if you get scared, just tell one of us, okay?” 

Missy promptly shushed you, focused entirely on the movie. You smiled, turning back to the screen. 

Not even five minutes later, Missy and Marcus were gasping, meanwhile, you were unfazed by the frankly terrifying death that had occured. 

“I’m never swimming in the ocean again,” Missy decided, scooting back and trying to conceal a yawn. 

“I second that,” Marcus added, gripping your hand tighter. “You’re sure this isn’t scary?” 

You nodded, smoothing your thumb over the back of Marcus’s hand. “I promise,” you said. “That’s the scary bit.” 

Around the halfway bit of the movie, you heard Missy shift in the backseat. Turning, you smiled as she yawned widely and lay down, her eyes barely open at this point. “Missy,” you said softly. “If you’re tired, close your eyes. I have this movie on DVD, and we can always watch it later, okay?” 

Missy gave you an exhausted thumbs up before turning over and burying herself in her blanket. You leaned closer to Marcus, placing your head on his shoulder. He moved so he was closer to you as well, cuddling up as best he could with the center console in the way. 

Despite the late hour, you and Marcus stayed awake for the rest of the movie. It was hard, but eventually, the movie was drawing to a close, and you were finally ready to fall asleep, even if you were the one behind the wheel. 

“Babe?” Marcus mumbled as the credits began to roll, nudging you to see if you were still awake. “Hey, you up?” 

You nodded, stretching and pulling the blanket off of you. “Yeah. Did you like the movie?” 

Marcus yawned, looking into the backseat, where Missy was still stretched across all three seats, using a spare blanket as a pillow. “Should I wake her up?” 

“She has to buckle in,” you pointed out, starting the car and fiddling with the radio so it was playing actual musica again. “So yeah.” 

After Missy woke up, accompanied by a lot of groaning and complaining, you pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive home. Missy fell asleep again, sitting upright and leaning against the window, and Marcus very quickly began to do the same, his hand loosely holding yours as he drifted off. You smiled, the gentle sounds of your two favorite people sleeping mixed with the soft music coming from the radio lulling you into a place of peace. 

Home came too quickly. Despite how exhausted he was, Marcus carried Missy into the house, laying her in her bed and pulling her blankets around her. You stood in the doorway, waiting for Marcus. He smiled, giving you a gentle kiss before following you to your bedroom. 

“Tired?” you asked, watching Marcus stumble around the room looking for the pyjamas you were holding. He nodded, grinning at you. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, coming towards you and taking the pyjamas. “Good movie though.” 

“Really?”

Marcus nodded, wrapping you in a warm bear hug. “Mhm,” he hummed, the vibration of it in his chest rumbling through you. “The special effects were garbage, but it was really good.” 

You smiled, wrapped in Marcus’s hug, warm and safe, there was no place you’d rather be, especially after a night like the one you just had. Nothing could make it better than it already was like a Marcus Moreno bear hug. “Just wait until I make you watch the rest of them. In the third one, the shark’s brother or some shit is out for revenge.” 

Marcus groaned into your shoulder. “No. No, absolutely not. We are not watching that.” 

“Aww, but-” 

“Nope!”

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

[justmesadgirl]

I Wish I Were Heather - Christmas At The Burrow (part 4)

Pairing: George Weasley x reader 

Warnings: angst, fluff

Words: 3k

Summary: It is finally Christmas and you aren’t sure what to do or feel after George’s confession.

a/n:  English isn’t my first laungage so sorry for all the mistakes!

requests are open!

part one, part two, part three

The next morning you woke up before the girls did, you barely slept for couple of hours that night because last night's conversation with George was playing over and over in your head and because of the slight pain in the back of your head, but mostly just George. He made you so angry, how can he tell you he loves you when he is with someone else. You shake your head angrily as you get up from the mattress on the floor. Looking over to make sure that Hermione and Ginny are still fast asleep. The smell of Molly’s cooking was lingering in the air as you get ready for the day. Looking at the clock to see that it was only 8 in the morning, all the boys in the house would be sleeping for at least couple more hours.

Quietly making your way downstairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. You smile when you see the Christmas tree in the living room. Underneath the tree were a lot of presents, even if the three oldest brothers weren’t home.

“Good morning dear.” You hear Molly sing to you from the kitchen, when you turn to look at her you see her cooking with a bright smile on her face.

“Good Morning Molly.” You smile as you make your way to her. “Can I help with anything?" 

“No need love I have everything handled here. Why are you up so early?” She turns to look at you this time with a more worried look. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain anymore?” It felt nice to be cared for, how you wished your own parents were more like her and Arthur.

“I’m feeling okay, no pain so no need to worry.” You let her know as you look around the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep any longer.” you continue after a while, not wanting to tell her that her son's words were stuck in her mind. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” You ask again. You wanted to help in any way you could because she had opened her home to you.

“Good to hear that you feel better love and yes I’m sure that I don’t need any help. I still have time till the others will wake up. You know the boys they love to sleep in when they have the change." She laughs at her own words as she turns back to the food that she is preparing.

“Oh okay, well if you are sure that you don’t need my help I could go on a walk to clear my mind.” You tell her, not wanting to bother her when she was doing her thing.

“I’m here if you want to talk about anything.” She gives you a loving smile over her shoulder and you nod your head to her. “Don’t go far, I will call for you when others get up so we can have breakfast and open presents together.” You give her one last thankful smile as you put on your shoes and a jacket before walking out of the door into the cold winter air. You pause for a second to take in the beautiful snowy morning. The sun was rising and the ground was white and it was snowing lightly. Pulling your beanie on your head before you start walking, not sure where you are headed.

You were so mad at George that you were considering just leaving the Burrow, packing your bags and going back to Hogwarts early but how could you do that to Molly and the others. They all had been so nice and welcoming, showing you that they really did care for you and wanted you to be there. Fred and Ginny would be mad at you if you just left, so you decided to stay.

Letting out a groan as you think about George again, that boy seems to live inside your head at this point. All you ever wanted to hear George tell you he was in love with you but never had you imagined it to be this way, he was with Heather and you weren’t about to be the reason why she would get hurt. George needed to make up his mind and maybe he didn’t even mean it, maybe he just said it because you got hurt and he felt bad, that must be it. George Weasley wasn’t in love with you and he never would be. George was with Heather and they were happy, he didn’t mean it like you thought he meant it. He loved you like he loved Ginny, like you were his sister.

You were so in your head that you didn’t realise where your legs had led you to. You are standing in front of a big tree which happened to be the same tree that had George’s and Fred’s treehouse in it. Your eyes wander up to the treehouse, the same one that you and George usually hid in so you could have some alone time. A small smile makes its way to your lips, all the happy memories this place holds warms your heart. You climb up the stairs into the treehouse. You step into it and look around it, it had been only months since you last been in there but it still felt like it had been years.

It was full of George’s and Fred's products, books and quidditch things. You find yourself smiling as you see a small picture frame, it’s a picture of you and the twins laughing like crazy people. You remember that day well, it was your first time visiting the Burrow. Summer was about to end and George and Fred begged you to visit before school started and your parents let you. You had so much fun with the boys and that had to be one of the best weeks of your life.

“Stay still for a moment! I want a picture of you all!” Molly tried her best to make you three stop laughing, Arthur was holding the camera up ready to take the picture when you all were ready.

“It wasn’t even that funny!” You laugh at George, he had made a stupid joke which was so bad that made you all laugh.

“And still you are laughing at it!” George tried to defend his joke.

“Not at the joke we are laughing at you George!” Fred’s words only make you all laugh even harder.

“Just take the picture Arthur, they will never stop laughing!” Molly groans and Arthur does as his wife asks him.

“y/n! Come inside everyone is awake!” Molly’s sweet voice brings you out of your thoughts. It must have been over an hour since you went on your walk, but you were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised how much time had passed. You quickly make your way back to the house, as you walk inside the warmth hits you and that’s when you realise how cold you were, your fingers felt like they might fall off. You take off your shoes and jacket before making your way to the kitchen. It smelled even better than it had before your walk. Almost everyone was sitting at the table beside you and the twins so that left three seats open, two next to each other and one between Ginny and Ron.

“Boys come on now everyone is waiting for you!” Molly yells up the stairs as you sit down next to Ginny and Ron, both of them looking at you weirdly because usually you sat next to George.

“Coming Mum! George lost something!” Fred yells as he runs down the stairs as he pulls his sweater over his head.

Fred stops when he walks into the kitchen looking around the table and then at you, he smiles and gives you a knowing look as he sits down on one of the free chairs. Then you hear George run down after his twinand he does the same, when he makes it into the kitchen he looks at the empty chair next to his twin brother and then at you, but you don’t look at him you just stare at the empty plate in front of you.

“Morning everyone.” George mumbles as he sits down, you can feel his eyes burning into you, nevertheless you don’t look back at him.

“Go on the dig in before it gets any colder.” Molly speaks up and everyone starts piling the food on their plates. Ginny and Fred excitedly talked about the huge amount of gifts under the Christmas tree. You try your best to finish your plate, but George’s eyes on you made you nervous, uncomfortable and maybe a little sick, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore.

“Are you eating that?” Ron suddenly asks you, Hermione hits him like always when he said something stupid. “What!? If she isn’t I wouldn’t mind, so are you?” Ron turns back to you and you have to giggle at them. One day they would realise that they liked each other and end up together; they already acted like a married couple.

“Go ahead Ron you can have it.” You smile at him as he empties your plate of food onto his own. “You are suck a pig, Ron.” Hermione mumbles from next to him. After everyone is finished eating you make your way to the living room. You sit down on the couch next to Hermione and Harry. Molly starts sharing the gifts, she gives you couple packages and you thank her. You open the soft on first, already excited about it. You pull out a beautiful blue sweater with your name's first letter on it with yellow.

“Wow Molly this is gorgeous.” You tell her happily, you could feel tears burning your eyes. Molly’s gift made you feel so happy and you appreciated that she had found the time to make you a sweater.

“I heard from a little bird that you love my sweaters so I had to make one for you.” She smiles at you warmly. In the other packages were a new muggle book you told Hermione about, beautiful hand made earrings from Ginny, a box of chocolate from Ron and Harry and puking pastilles from Fred and George. You were so happy with all the gifts you received but it made you happier to look at how all of them reacted to your gifts to them. You got Molly a muggle cooking book, Arthur a rubber duck, Ginny a muggle polaroid camera, Hermione fancy quill sett, a box of chocolate frogs for Ron, Harry a quidditch book and the twins you gave a couple of things from the Zonko’s joke shop that they had wanted.

“Thank you so much y/n! George, can you please take a picture of us?” Ginny hugs you and then turns to her older brother giving him the new camera. You give the best smile you can as George takes a picture of you two.

“Can we talk?” George asks you as he gives the camera back to his sister. “Please?” George continues as he sees the look on your face.

“mm, okay, sure.” You reply unsurely. You get up and walk after him up the stairs so you two could talk in private. He opens the door to his bedroom and lets you in before closing the door after you two. You don’t know what to do so you awkwardly just stand in the middle of the room looking at his shoes, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I got you this.” George finally speaks up, his voice makes you look at his beautiful face. He gives you a small box, it looks like a jewelry box.

“But you already gave me a gift?” You were confused about the new gift.

“That gift was from both of us but this is just from me.” He tells you anxiously looking at the gift in your hand. “Open it.” You look up at him quickly before you open the box, a small gasp falls from your lips when you see what's inside. “Do you like it?” George whispers due to the silence that falls upon you.

“I-It’s beautiful Georgie.” You whisper back to him, inside the box was the most beautiful neckless you have ever seen. It was shaped like a heart and it had beautiful small details all over it.

“Let me put it on.” George walks closer to you and takes the necklace out of the box, you turn around and lift your hair so he has better access to your neck. Shiver runs through your body when his fingers touch your skin. You take the beautiful heart in your hand and look at it. “It opens.” George tells you as he wraps his hands around you so he can take the heart in his hands, placing his chin on your shoulder. George opens the locket and there are two moving pictures of you two.

“Wow, this is amazing.” You tell him. Feeling him so close to you made you feel hot all of the sudden.

“Look.” He says and taps the top of the heart and the pictures change. “I've been working on this for the past week.” He tells you as the pictures change. It was amazing what magic could do. You turned around so you were facing him, not expecting to be so close to him.

“This is the most beautiful and meaningful thing anyone has ever given me, thank you so much Georgie.” You whisper to him feeling a tear run down your cheek. You pull him into a tight hug. It takes a second for him to hug you back, but when he does he places a soft kiss on your forehead too.

“You are the most beautiful and meaningful thing in my life y/n, I really meant it yesterday when I told you that I love you because I love you y/n.” He pulls away from you so he can look at your face, but his strong arms still wrapped around you. “I broke up with Heather after that night at the party, but you ran away from me yesterday so I couldn’t tell you that.” You were so shocked by his words, did George Wraskey actually love you?

“W-what?” Was the only thing you got out of your mouth.

“It’s okay if you don’t love me back, it really is but I needed to tell you. I have loved you since we met but I thought that you could never love me. Then Heather all of the sudden was interested in me so I went for it. It was a mistake because then you pulled away from me, it was so hard not to have you around anymore. Then you asked me to cuddle you and I realized that I had made a mistake, maybe there was a change that you felt the same way as I did. ” He takes a deep breath in before continuing, “Maybe there was a change that you loved me back, but it’s totally okay if you don’t. I’m happy to just be your best friend, anything to just have you in my life.” He was rambling on and all you could do was pull him into a kiss.

You had kissed boys before but you had never experienced anything like this kiss, it was just like out of a dream, maybe even better. The whole world around you disappeared and it was just you and him. The kiss ended way too soon for you as you two pulled away for air.

“Wow.” George breathes out. “Why haven’t you shut me up like that before.” Of course, he had to joke about the kiss.

“I love you Georgie.” You giggle at him.

“Say it again, please?” He asks you with a love sick look on his face.

“I love you, Georgie.”

“Does this mean you will finally be mine?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” You ask him, a smirk forms on his lips. He kisses you again, not getting enough of the feeling of your lips on his.

“y/n y/l/n will you be my girlfriend, my future fiance, the future Mrs. Weasley, the future mother of my children and the future caretaker of mine.” George has this fake serious face on before he starts laughing, tint of blush spreads on his cheeks.

“I would love to George.” You laugh with him as he picks you up and spins your around a couple of times before placing you on the floor again.

“Merlin I love you.” He says before pulling you into another passionate kiss. It was meant to be, you and George Weasley were meant to be together.

“Bloody hell finally! Took long enough!” Fred’s words make you two pull away from each other, deep red blush spreading on both of your cheeks.

“Way to ruin the moment brother.” George groans out as he pulls you back into a hug.

“Next time put a sock on the handle or something, so I know not to come in! Lucky me that I didn’t come 10 minutes later really don’t wanna see you two making babies!” Fred lets you know, his words make you bury your face into George's neck. “Use protection, I’m too young to be an uncle!” He yells out before closing the door after himself.

“To be honest I wouldn’t mind doing that activity with you.” George winks at you.

“George!” You yell out before slapping his arm playfully.

“What!? I was just joking, unless?”

“Merlin why did I have to fall in love with you.” You playfully groan before pulling him into another kiss. “I’m sure they won’t miss us for the next 20 minutes so make it quick Weasley.” you whisper to his ear.

“Thank Merlin that you did.” George replies before picking you up and throwing you onto his bed.

A/N: Do you guys want more maybe a fifth fluffy part? Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged! It means a lot to me when you guys leave  comments of what you think!!!

permanent tag list:

@smexylemony  @alylanaeblack  @dottirose @obviouslyoleff @sleepybesson @btzlc @judemoos @procrastinatingparker @spiderman-n @tomshufflepuff @marcymakemagic @joycelovedorial @wronglanemendes @lou-la-lou @spideyboix @nervouscafe @vibhati123 @ourkarlanicoleuniverse @whitoutsanity @spidey-holland7 @living-on-rice @emogril @joycelovedorial @biggraysonenergy @mendesilicious @heartbeats-wildly @dreaming-about-fanfictions @broidktf 

Tag list to this series:

@ravenmoore14 @granger-lux @annajosefiningelsson @markjaestats @turntechsquishy @baddiebraps @afangirlsworld @ghostlygreenbean @klausdatprettyboi @hesnotgeorgeiam @bethanystan @markjaestats @glitteringcoffeefreak @thatdumbbitchxx @dragon-boy @hidden-whatever @khaylaloves @makaxash2018 @sweet-pinkrose @immajustreadwritereblog @emptyporsche @lynxiaaa @legili-mens @tinylumpiaa @hemmoporro @tillytheslytherin @mrs-ghuleh @lilypad-55449 @lonely-kermit @wintrrrsoldier @streetfighterrichie @hazydespair @thatguppienamedbae @jeminila  @masterandhisweezy @kinkycalamari @punkmccqll

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #imagine #hp #george weasley imagines

[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ��excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #tfatws #catws #marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #au #series #angst #hurt #comfort #1940s bucky

[digatunnel]

Levi x Reader

Explicit Smut

WC: 1,432

You lean against the nearest wall, away from the pandemonium happening inside the castle. You fan yourself and wipe the sweat seeping down your forehead.

The night was dark and cold, winter just ended but it is not like it is summer already for you to be feeling this hot. And that’s not it, you also feel like your lady part is quivering. Everything inside you feels hot that you want to slam it against anything.

You could hear Sasha and Connie arguing about the last piece of meat, and you do want to come back inside and be one with the chaos, but you don’t understand what’s happening to your body. The last thing you remember was grabbing the small bottle of liquid from Jean’s bag. The latter had told everyone it was a gift he received when he visited the underground. What in the world he was doing there, that you don’t know. But all you know is Jean saying it’s a “very special” liquid and he’s planning of drinking it tomorrow.

And curiosity got you, you were also a little tipsy, so when no one was looking, you chug it down your throat.

Now here you are--- gasping, feeling extremely hot, sweating, and… sexually aroused.

You drag your feet away from your peers, as you don’t want to risk anyone catching you in that embarrassing situation. However, the farther you go, the more your body feels like it is being set on fire.

Struggling to keep your feet on the ground, you hear someone calling your name. Your heart starts pounding. Why him of all people?

Your turn to your heels, desperately trying to look normal, and face him. You don’t even know what to say. You haven’t even recovered from the embarrassment you suffered when you announced to everyone how much you want to strip off your captain. It happened last month when everyone was drunk and out of it. Captain Levi wasn’t amused, he dragged you out and told you to go to sleep.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The moment his mouth opened, you felt like you’re about to come. Your knees wobble, you grab on to something to steady yourself.

“Y-Yes, Captain”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Then you feel Levi’s heat in front of you. Why did he have to move, you ask yourself. You ignore him, but the smell of his sweat, mixed with soap and musk are playing with your emotions.

He moves closer, and you feel his breath tickle your neck.

“Did you drink something?”

You groan and look at him. His half-lidded eyes looking at you, they’re tired but alert, giving him a sinister look. Ah, how you hate him. You hate how he makes you feel inadequate compare to his skills, how he makes you blush when he throws you a glance, and how years after joining the scout, you still pine for this man.

You shiver again, struggling with your body reacting to his scent. You can’t hold your moan when Levi slowly reaches out and puts a hand on your hip. Maybe helping to steady you, did you wobble again? Maybe. You don’t know anymore.

“Captain---,” you croak.

When you look at his jaw and into his dreary gray eyes, you feel it… you’re wet down there.

Please…

His eyes drop to your lips and your heart thunders.

“Come here,” he tells you and pulls you to the direction you know so well ---because your eyes follow him everywhere--- to his room.

You don’t even know how manage to walk, but when you reach his room, he guides you in, not very gently, closes the door, and pushes you against the wall. He snakes a hand around your waist.

Your breathing grows shallow.

“Soldier, be smart enough not to drink everything you see,” he tells you, hand rubbing along the top of your skirt.

“I--- didn’t know, I’m sorry.” You are sorry, but you also want to strip off and have him demolish you.

Levi responded by cupping your left breast that leaves you speechless, he squeezes it hard.

“Now, what would have happened if I didn’t follow you? I reckon you’d just take anyone to relieve you?” he says, and you know he’s annoyed. Wait, what? He followed you? He must have seen you exiting.

“No, I… I would have looked for you, Captain.” And it’s true. You would.

Levi responds by pushing his hips into your crotch, his erection feels like a hot steel pipe trying to punish you. And it feels so good. So damn good.

He whispers your name. “What do you want?”

You close your eyes. “I want you to fuck me so hard that I wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle.

And to hell with tomorrow. You just want him now.

Electricity shot throughout your body when Levi pinches your nipple.

Fuck tomorrow. Fuck the consequences and awkwardness.

He starts nipping your ear. “Take my cock out,” he growls.

You start undoing his belt and you wrap your hand around his thick, hot, and hard cock. You gasp at the feeling. How many nights did you imagine his length, that he is the subject of your imagination when you find time to touch yourself?

You lock your eyes with his and start giving him a jerk up and down. Levi’s eyes gleam as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Using his two hands, he removes your shirt, and uses his hand to push down your brassiere, your breasts spill over, nipples hard and eager.

Levi pinches one nipple hard and studies your reaction. You shudder, “Captain please,”

“Call me Levi.”

You let out a shaky breath. “L-Levi, please…”

“Please what?” he asks, still toying with your nipple.

“Suck my tit.”

He growls, and dips forward to suck your nipple into his warm mouth. His fingers lift the edge of your underwear, slipping beneath the fabric, he strokes up and down, and unexpectedly plunges a finger inside you. You gasp, and Levi looks very satisfied. “You’re drenched,” he comments, he adds another finger, and once again starts pumping in and out of you, then once more.

Your body is on edge, you’re losing it.

“Levi… I’m going to come.”

He withdraws his finger causing you to let out a protest.

Levi’s teeth are clenched. “Not yet, if you’re going to come, do it around my cock.”

You want to cry. You feel overly sensitive down there and you just want to reach orgasm. “Do it now.”

Levi smirks, “Let me see your ass while I fuck you,” he says and turns you around. “Bend.”

He pushes you down on your back, “Put your hands on the wall and protect your head with it.” He instructs and shoves down your pants and underwear.

Your hands are now spread out on the wall, anticipating the impact because you feel like the tip of his dick alone could make you convulse.

You cry when you feel him bite your shoulder hard. “Levi---”

Before you could say anything more, Levi thrust inside you that the abrupt action knocked the air inside you. Levi buried himself to the core you have to move your legs wider to accommodate him.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly. Levi pulls away and slams back in. You feel tears forming in your eyes, you feel overwhelmed with need and emotions. “Move and fuck me,” you tell him.

Levi growls and grabs a handful of your hair, giving it a nice firm tug, he holds on to it as he rocks into you. It was hard and fast and desperate. You start to move with him, meeting his every thrust, with one hard tug on your hair, you lost it. Your orgasm tears through you, your body quaking as you let out a loud moan.

“Fuck,” Levi speeds up his thrusts. “You’re squeezing my cock.”

He pumps once and on the second one, he let out a guttural moan and plunges into you deeply. You can feel the throbs as he unloads inside you.

You’re panting and trying to take control of your breathing. You whimper when Levi slides out of you, his cum dripping down your legs.  

He grips your wrist and spins you around to face him. “We’re not done here,” he declares and guides you to his bed. Your eyes find his cock, it sure is ready to take you again and you have no qualms about it.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan scenarios #shingeki no kyojin

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Past // Day 3 🌙

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 2,000+

Warning: Past Character death, Bribing, Drinking, Trauma

Author Note: Sorry this came out a little later in the day than expected. I hope people like it and let me know in the comments who you think the ghosts are. Sorry for making y’all cry

<—(Pt.4.3☀️) / (Pt.5)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

“All right.” You mutter to yourself, quickly centering the fluffy cat plush on the grave before taking a step back to take a look.

You and Shalnark had done a lot for Pakunoda’s grave, from cleaning up all the dirt and cobwebs surrounding it to getting some of her favorite things to place on her grave. You just hoped, somehow and somewhere, she would be satisfied…

As you wipe the sweat off your brow, you look out the window towards the already night sky. Time had passed by so quickly while you were working. So much so, you had nearly forgotten about Chloe. Thankfully, Shalnark had offered to go grab Chloe for you at the last minute while you finished things up.

“Hey nice job. You even lit the candles.”

Speaking of the devil, you turn around to see Shalnark entering the room, Chloe trotting close right behind him. As the cat comes running up to you, you notice Shalnark holding two bags in his hand.

“What did you get?” You questioned out loud as you lean down to pick Chloe up. Shalnark gives you a confused look before looking at his hand and realizing what you were asking.

“Oh.” Shalnark fumbles with the bag before handing you a can, “I got us a couple of beers to drink.”

“Beers? Shal I don’t think…” You watched appalled as Shalnark proceeded to chug a whole can down in front of you. “...you should be drinking…”

“Oh come on, Doc. A couple of drinks won’t hurt anybody.” Shalnark chuckles out, jumping back onto the rock behind him to sit before pulling out another can. Suddenly as he takes a sip of his next one, a mischievous look flashes on his face. “Hey (Y/n). I say we have a little drinking contest to see who has a bigger toleran—.”

“Nope” You deadpanned, not even leaving room for Shalnark to argue back. As a gust of wind passes through the old building, causing it to moan lightly under the wind’s strength, you feel a shiver run up and down your spine. Damn, even though you were wearing a ski jacket and scarf it was still cold.

Shalnark lets out a small sigh to himself before shrugging his shoulders, “Fine, Fine. Guess I’ll have to drink this all by myself then.”

“Shal no—.”

Quickly, you attempt to take the can from Shalnark’s hand but the male caught onto your intentions and was much faster than you. Holding the can far away from your reach, you glare up at him in annoyance.

Unfazed by your threats, Shalnark leans forward to you and whispers, “Then, Drink with me (y/n).”

After a couple of minutes of staring each other down, and an attempt from Shalnark to chug down another beer, you realize you have to give in. Sucking your teeth in, you, begrudgingly, open a can and take a sip. Instantly, you feel yourself cringe at the bitter taste the beer held. It definitely wasn’t your type of drink to have.

“Am I sensing a chicken?” Shalnark teases out, already in the process of crushing his second can in his fist. You send him a quick glare, already wanting to just strangle him right then and there, as you bring the can up to drink from again.

You can feel the alcohol flow through your body almost instantly as Shalnark makes you drink more. It was just like what those textbooks you were forced to read in college said. You felt it in your brain first, euphoric and relaxed as if you had no worries in the world. Like a false haze fell over your eyes, blinding you from the rough truths of the world. Then, you felt it in your muscles. Your speech was getting more and more incoherent, your hands were shaky and, eventually, it got to be such a struggle to even stand that Shalnark had to help you sit down next to him…

To him…

You let out a small giggle to yourself as you stare at Shalnark. His blonde locks shimmering under the light blue glow of the moonlight as he tipped his head back once more to take a gulp from his can. His Adam’s apple bobbing back and forth a couple of times as he swallows before he pulls the can down to rest against his thighs. You watch as his aquamarine eyes, that seem weirdly more blue now, turn to look over towards you.

“What?” He questions out, his words coming out as a whisper, “Why are you staring at me?”

Because your Handsome, obviously?

Perplexed, you watch as Shalnark suddenly throws his head back in a fit of laughs. What… What was wrong with him?

It takes a couple of minutes but eventually Shalnark calms down and looks at you; his face covered in a wide grin.

“Handsome, Huh?” He teasingly questions out, giggling slightly as you choke on your drink. As you hack your lungs out, you can hardly let out anything, only able to muster a small murmur of a word after a couple of minutes.

“W-whAt…”

Shalnark gives you a moment to compose yourself, handing you a water bottle after your coughing calms down before proceeding to explain.

“I think you might have drinked a little bit too much if you can’t distinguish between your thoughts and what you say, Sweetie.” You flash Shalnark a quick glare at his statement. He seemed to be having a playdate with the amount of teasing and reactions he has been able to wring out of you. You will admit it was funny at first but now it was just getting plain annoying.

Just give him a good smooch. It’ll shut him up real good.

You nearly choked on your water as you proceeded to quickly spin around. What in the world was that. There wasn’t anyone else around from what you could see and sense but you could have swore you heard another’s male’s voice. It couldn’t be Shalnark either. The one you heard was ruff and rumbly, nothing like Shalnark’s. So—

“You okay?” Shalnark calls out, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You feel yourself pause for a minute, your thoughts needing a minute a couple of minutes to catch up to you before answering, “Ah… Yeah. I just thought I heard something…”

Shalnark thinks for a second before letting a light hum in response.

“I don’t hear anything. Well… Unless you count Chloe rolling around in the petals—“

You cut Shalnark off with a loud gasp, “Chloe No. No. No!”

Quickly, you scamper over to Chloe, picking up the cat before she could possibly roll and knock over anything on the grave. She was usually quite the respectful cat, not much to cause trouble, so it surprised you that she was acting like this. You hoped the gods, or whatever supernatural force that existed out there, won’t strike you down for your cat rolling around on Pakunoda’s grave like that.

“What’s with you Chloe… you never roll around like this unless someone is giving you belly rubs—” You end up cutting yourself off as a loud yawn forces its way out of your mouth. Oddly, the tiredness of today’s events suddenly hit you like a truck making you feel absolutely drained.

“Eh? Tired already?” Shalnark chuckles out as you practically collapse next to him. “You do know our hotel is on the other side of the city right?”

“Please tell me you’re joking…” You pleaded out. You knew, from experience, how hard it could be to grab a cab this late at night especially if your hotel is on the other side of the city.

“Sadly not Princess.”

You let out a small whine as you defeatedly fall backwards to lay on the rocks.

“Well, didn’t you stay here with the troupe for a while? Do you possibly have a place to sleep here, just for tonight?”

“Well, we do. But, when we stayed here in York New it was during the summer, not the winter. So we don’t have anything that could possibly keep us warm except for the candl— what…” You sit up a little as you hear Shalnark pause and suddenly rummage through his plastic bag, “A Blanket…”

After hearing what he found, you fully sit up and lean over his shoulder to take a look.

“That’s actually perfect.” You murmur out, reaching down to touch the fabric, “It’s big enough for both of us and the fabric is extremely thick to keep us warm. We will be perfectly fine if we have this and our jackets on.”

“I-it’s not that. It’s just I didn’t— this wasn’t… in the bag before. I didn’t buy this.” Shalnark mumbles out confused as moves around the blanket. Testing to see if he was really seeing what was in front of you two.

“Perhaps… you accidentally grabbed it or switched up with someone else’s bag?”

“W-well no. I didn’t see the blanket when I took out the drinks earlier—“ Shalnark is cut off as you take the blanket from him. As you unfold the fabric, Shalnark sighs to himself. What was he thinking? Getting all worked up over a blanket. You were likely correct, he or the cashier likely misplaced a blanket in his bag. Shalnark huffs out a laugh as a sudden thought comes across his mind. Uvogin would surely beat his ass if he saw Shalnark suspicious of a mere blanket.

A frown slowly makes its way on Shalnark’s face as his thoughts escalate. What was he doing? Sitting here like a school boy with a crush, falling hopelessly in love with you. He wasn’t dead, he still had his nen, the rest of the troupe is very much still alive… and Hisoka was still on the loose. Plus, if…

“What's important is the survival of the whole, not the individual."

"The worst case is all of us dying. The end of the Spiders."

… Hisoka actually succeeds in killing the other spiders then he would have to rebuild the spider… Right? And, you… you couldn’t come along with him if that's the case. You live in a different world than him. You were a caring doctor and he a cold blooded kill—

Shalnark winces as a firm smack hits the back of his head, nearly sending him flying forward.

“Ow. (Y/n)... what in the world was that for?” Shalnark grumbles out annoyed as he massages the back of his head. He’s not sure why you’re mad but you didn’t have to hit him that hard.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” You questioned out. As Shalnark spins around to give you a piece of his mind, he pauses. You… you were on the total opposite side of the giant flat rock in the process of setting up the sleeping area. “Ah. Do you mean these pillows? I found them in the corner. It’s so weird, they are practically brand new.”

“Oh yeah… that's it…”

If you were over there, then who smacked him. Was it…

… A Ghost?...

… No, no. That’s totally absurd. That’s the type of stories the boss would believe in, not him. He just… drank too much. Yeah, That’s it.

As Shalnark finally calms himself down, he decides to make his way over to you. Slowly, as you two settle down to sleep onto the cold surface, Shalnark can already feel you begin to drift to sleep off in his arms. He, very carefully, pulls you closer to him.

As he does so, he can hear the faintest whisper off in the distance. He almost mistakens it as the wind if it weren’t for the distinct familiarity in the voice.

Be selfish, Kid…

.

..

…

“Uvo…?”

Shalnark decided that night…. that you two were going to leave York New the very next morning.

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven , @yumezai , @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation , @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12 , @aly-kurta , @bbunnycore , @feifood , @akobere7u7 , @aleksa784

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark x reader #shalnark ryuseih #a helping hand

[constellationsatnight]

rainy days

       One Shot.

      oliver wood x female reader

                                      @marauder-exe​ prompt list

     56. “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”           89.“I don’t remember ever having this many hickeys. But I don’t mind.”

  Summary: you spend the day with your boyfriend Oliver.

  Warnings: just fluff i guess?? mentions of sex kinda?? swearing maybe?

         You loved rainy days. Even before Hogwarts, it always made you happy, the light sound of the water tapping on the window. It was the perfect time to read a book, or watch a movie, with a fuming cup of tea, and nothing would make you happier. And now that you had started going out with your boyfriend, you loved them even more, it was the only days that he couldn't possibly go out on the Quidditch pitch. Oliver, your boyfriend, was the captain of the Gryffindor's team, and took his role with an exemplary seriousness and devotion, some would say obsession (you might agree on that), wich made you proud, but also reduced your time together by much. So when you woke up to the first weekend of November, the wind was making the windows shake, and if it wasn't for your watch you wouldn't have believed it was day already, the sky was gray and a rainstorm was starting.

 You stretched in your bed, looking at the ceiling, and smiled softly, you had caught up with all your homework yesterday, so today was all about relaxing, and this time, with your boyfriend. The first match of the season was next week, and you had barely seen him in two weeks, his attention completely on the strategic plays he was working on. You weren't so bothered, you enjoyed some alone time, and as much as he would insist that you stayed with him while he did some strategy work, your interest in Quidditch was very limited, and you knew he'd work better on his own.

You stepped up, the cold air wrapping around your legs, and shivered, quickly taking some loose jeans, and changing in a big sweater. The dorm was empty, wich seemed normal since it was already 10 a.m., and your dormmates were probably already in the library, working, as you had done until the wee hours of the morning. You only put some socks on, it was a habit, you just walked around in socks all the time, in summer as in winter, wich resulted to ice cold feet, all the time.

    You quickly got down the stairs and stepped out of the common room, jogging a little down to get to the Great hall. You barged through the doors, the tables weren't very full, most people had finished eating and were discussing or working on the tables. You quickly scanned the faces before spotting Oliver, sitting next to Percy and the Weasley twins, he seemed annoyed. You started to make your way over them, and couldn't help but grin as Oliver's face lit up, seeing you.  

      'Hey guys' you dropped on the bench, next to Oliver. 'What's up with the mourning?' you looked at Oliver, who was visibly gloomy.

       'We should have been practising today.' Fred grinned, obviously not so sad about not having to fly for two hours in the cold.

       'Your boyfriend is crushed.' George added, the same grin on his face.

 You shook your head chuckling as Oliver snicked his arm around you, hiding his face in your neck. You ran your hand in his hair, stroking it slowly.

       'Well, it's a great time to catch on your homework' Percy stared all of them down.

       'I'm all caught up personally, I have the entire day free.' you smiled as Oliver pulled away, his hand catching yours, and resting on his thigh.

 You grinned, finally seeing your boyfriend's face, he smiled back, leaning closer.

       'Hi you.' he whispered almost on your lips.

       'Hi.” you replied even closer, and you fell into a soft kiss.

 You pulled away, still smiling.

       'We can have the day all to ourselves' you got back on the subject.

       'Hmmm. Sounds pretty good.” he put his head back on your shoulder, closing his eyes.

       'You didn't sleep last night?' it wasn't that much of a question, more of a scowl. He smirked, not answering as you rolled your eyes.

 You continued to talk with the Weasley's, eating your breakfast, until Oliver stood up, forcing himself to get out of your embrace.

        'I'm going to shower, I'll see you in my room?' he pecked your cheek and you nodded, gazing at him as he went out of the hall.

   You finished eating, and leaving the twins, who were trying to elaborate some new prank, you made your way to the Gryffindor common room. The fire was roaring, providing warmness to the room, and contrasted with the cold and rainy wind outside. You quickly went up to Oliver's room, wich was still empty. You smiled a little, taking your jeans off and slipping inside the covers. They were still cold, but the soft cushions made you sleepy again, since you hadn't gotten that much rest either. You could smell Oliver's scent, making you feel comfy and relaxed. The door barged open five minutes later, and your boyfriend came in, his hair still humid, and the hot water seemed to have exhausted him even more.

 He smiled at the sight of you curled in his covers, and gave you a small peck on the lips before stripping out of his pants.

       'Hey cutie pie.' he whispered as he got into bed, pulling you close to him, cuddling.

       'You smell good' you mumbled, your eyes closed and your face against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you. 'For once.” you added, smirking and pulling yourself closer to him.

  He made an obfuscated noise, suddenly pulling out his embrace and rolling over, his back facing you as you laughed at his pettiness. But as he rolled he took the cover with him, the cold air hitting you.

       'Oliver!' you scowled, 'Give me back the covers!' you tried pulling it off him, unsuccessfully.

       'No' he smirked, making a human burrito of himself.

       'If you steal the blankets I'm going to put my cold feet on you.' you said seriously.

   His only response was to laugh, but little did he know; his legs were not rolled in the covers, giving you easy access to them. You sneaked your feet under it and brushed them around his warm body, making him cry out and roll himself in a ball, ensuring the warmness around him. He ended up laughing with you and rolled back to face you, pulling the blankets over both of you. You smiled at each other as he pulled you back in his torso, pecking the top of your head.

      'I love you' he whispered in your hair, making you smile against his chest.

      'I love you too' you mumbled back.

 The rain continued to pour over the castle, as you spent the entire morning cuddling in Oliver's bed, talking a bit about what was going on, and making out heavily. The windows were covered in a light mist, a trace of the warmness of your bodies, now innocently tangled together. You felt amazing, happy to have Oliver all for yourself for so long.  It was around one in the afternoon when you finally got out of bed, to go have lunch in the Great Hall. As you couldn't find your sweater, it had been  thrown across the room at some point, you sneaked into Oliver's Quidditch jumper, wich was so big you had to roll it up your wrists, and it got to your mid thighs. Your boyfriend smiled at the sight, as you put back your knee high socks, after all it was really cold, and you went to check your reflection, curious about Oliver's fond reaction. You smiled, you did look cute, and Oliver sneaked behind you, his arms wrapping you.

      'I don't remember having ever this many hickeys.' he chuckled, watching the two of you in his mirror. 'But I don't mind' and he kissed your neck, right on the purplest mark, as you chuckled. He scooped your hand and pulled you with him, getting out of the room.

    'Oliver! I need to put my jeans on!' you whined, trying to loosen his grip on your hand.

He pouted as you hurridly went back to the room and sliped in your pants.

   As you got to the table, still holding hands, you sat down at you usual seat, the twins already there discussing with their younger brother, Ron, and his friends, Hermione and Harry, the later being in the Quidditch team too. You sat down, a small grin still on your face.

     'Well well, having fun Wood?' George teased.

     'Cancelling practice to snog your girlfriend Captain? You should be ashamed.' Fred added as they high fived under the table.      

  Oliver glared at them as he put food in his plate, and you chuckled.

      'We might have something for your neck y/n.' Fred smirked, winking.

      'Shut it Weasley. I'm not touching anything one of you has had your hands on.' you pointed at them as Oliver pulled you closer, glaring at Fred. He got jealous so easily it made you laugh.

       'Oh I see it wasn't only one sided!' George exclaimed as he saw Oliver's neck too.

       'Why do we sit with them?' Oliver asked you, not so sarcastically.

 You burst into laughter, feeling relieved and calm. You were exactly where you wanted to be.

        -

i officially suck at this

#oliver wood x reader #oliver wood #quidditch #oliver wood one shot #hogwarts #harry potter #fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george #percy weasley

[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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