#wanderer is not really active in this chapter sorry

[danicamaximoff]

Pretend To Be Nice | Chapter Four

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Chapter Four: 70's Funk?

Summary: A few months after forming their band "The Pussycats", Hazel and her friends PJ and Josie get noticed by a record label, and are quickly skyrocketed into fame. It's a dream come true for them, and all three of their lives are flipped upside down. Their quick arrival on the scene quickly draws the attention of many other artists and bands, including a popular girl band called "Nymphology". Unfortunately for Hazel, a mix-up and unintentional awful encounter ends up creating tension between the two groups right before they all leave for Nymphology's upcoming tour. Now forced to frequently interact with someone who she was convinced couldn't stand her, Hazel is desperately trying to fix things with the band's lead guitarist. However it doesn't help that Y/N is actively avoiding Hazel as much as possible, and the fact that Hazel found her insanely hot definitely didn't make things any easier.

Warnings: angst, rockstar au, eventual smut, slowburn, swearing, occasional alcohol mentions/use

Word Count: 4377

“Should we get mac and cheese?” Josie asks as she pushes the shopping cart as her and Hazel wander through the grocery store aisles to get a few snacks and food for their hotel room.

“Like the microwave one or the stove one?” Hazel asks as she furrows her brows.

“Either one.” Josie says as she shrugs.

“Josie, we don't have a stove in the hotel.” Hazel says as she shakes her head. “Or literally any cooking items.”

“You can make boxed mac in the microwave, I do it all the time at Sarah Lawrence.” Josie says with a shrug as she looks at Hazel.

“That sounds disgusting.” Hazel says as she scrunches up her face a bit.

“I mean it tastes the same for the most part, mac is mac. You just have to get the shell ones or sometimes the noodles clump together and then I guess it’s a little weird.” Josie says as she grabs a few boxes of mac and cheese as well as the microwavable cups.

“Do you know when we hear from Wyatt if we get a record deal or not? Oh shit.” Hazel asks as she absentmindedly runs her hand along the shelf tags, eyes going wide as she accidentally knocks a few of them to the ground, mentally panicking as she immediately grabs them and starts trying to put them back in their spots. “Oh hey, we should get gummy worms too.”

“I mean the meeting is today, so we should find out soon.” Josie says as she shrugs. “What happens if they sign us?”

“I dunno? We make a record?” Hazel says as she looks over at Josie.

“No, like, are we staying in the hotel the whole time? I don’t want to live in a hotel.” Josie says as she gives Hazel a look.

“I mean we’d probably get an apartment, wouldn’t we?” Hazel says as she gets a confused look.

“I can’t afford Los Angeles!” Josie says as her eyes go wide in horror. “I can barely afford mac and cheese! How am I supposed to pay for an apartment?”

“Well they would pay us right? Plus it’s cool, if we get signed I can probably ask my mom to chip in or something. I’m pretty sure she has a beach house out here that she vacations at with boyfriends. My dad bought it for her when they were still together as an “I’m Sorry I Cheated” house. I heard them fighting about it in middle school.” Hazel says as she shrugs. “I can see if we can use it or something.”

“You never told me your dad cheated?” Josie asks with a confused and shocked look on her face.

“Well, yeah. You never asked, I didn’t think it was important.” Hazel says as she shrugs.

“I mean, you don’t have to, but I would tell you if something like that happened. You’re one of my best friends.” Josie says with a shrug.

“Wait, really?” Hazel says as she gets a surprised look on her face.

“Hazel, we’re literally in a band together and we hang out all the time.” Josie says as she gives Hazel a funny look.

“Yeah but I thought it’s mostly you and PJ doing stuff and me just tagging along.” Hazel says with a slightly confused look.

“What? No!” Josie says as she gives Hazel a confused look. “Hazel, you’re like the main reason the band exists, and I wouldn’t have come if you didn’t convince me.” Josie says as she shakes her head.

“PJ said you agreed to join the band because she said you’d get a girlfriend.” Hazel says as she frowns and gives Josie a confused look as well.

“Hazel, PJ says a lot of stuff.” Josie says as she rolls her eyes. “I love her, but she just talks to talk half the time. I never even wanted to be in a band, it scares the crap out of me, dude. I know I complained about the bowling alley a lot, but playing at the party was like the worst stage fright I’ve ever experienced.” Josie says as she shakes her head while grabbing a few grocery items off the shelves and into the cart she was pushing.

“But then why’d you-” Hazel starts to say before Josie cuts her off.

“Because I remembered you had always wanted to be in a band. Didn’t you have an obsession with Kiss or something when you were younger?” Josie says as she glances at Hazel.

  “I did, I went as Paul Simmons for Halloween one year.” Hazel says as she nods.

“See? That’s why I joined. You love music, and you do all the hard stuff like getting outfits and gigs and everything, I just have to show up and play, which is good because I think if I had any other responsibilities I would crumble under the pressure because I get anxious enough about performing.” Josie says as she shakes her head.

“I thought you guys didn’t like the cat ears?” Hazel says as she furrows her brows in confusion.

“I thought they were kind of fun.” Josie says as she shrugs. “I mean, I wouldn’t have cared if we didn’t wear them, but it was a cool idea. And people liked it and it fits with the band name.” Josie says as she shrugs. “I think it should be part of our outfits.”

“Wait, really?” Hazel asks as her face lights up with excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me I was the reason you joined?” 

“Because PJ takes over, so when she says we’re doing this to get girlfriends, you kind of just have to go along with it.” Josie says as she gives Hazel a look.

“I was never doing it to get a girlfriend. I just like the drums.” Hazel says as she furrows her brows.

“Yeah, but you can also say no to PJ, cause you don’t care. She’s my best friend so I just kind of go along with things after a bit.” Josie says as she shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Hazel says as she shrugs, before realizing something irrelevant to the conversation. “Oh I forgot to tell you, that girl you like is at the same studio as us. You know, the one from Nymphology with the like-” Hazel starts to say as she gestures at her chest where hair would be if she had long hair, but Josie cuts her off as she starts nervously laughing.

“Oh my god, please don’t remind me!” Josie says as she stops walking and leans her head against her arms as they rest on the shopping cart. “I already met her, and I almost threw up.” 

“What? You threw up?!” Hazel asks in shock as she gives Josie an alarmed look.

“No! God I would die if I did! I wasn’t being serious! I was just a total idiot when I talked to her!” Josie says as her eyes go wide and she shakes her head.

“What’d you say? I mean it probably wasn’t that bad, you’re a very likeable person.” Hazel says as her face scrunches up in confusion.

“Well I saw her, and I choked on the water I was drinking, and then she came over and asked if I was okay, and I said yeah, and then she was like “I’m Isabel” and I was like “I’m Josie” and then I stared at her for like a second and then looked away, and then I asked if she liked water because I couldn’t think of anything to say.” Josie says awkwardly as she looks up at the ceiling.

“Well did she?” Hazel asks.

“Did she what?” Josie asks Hazel with a confused look.

“Did she like water?” Hazel says as she looks at Josie expectantly.

“Yes. She did. Everyone does, Hazel, you need it to live.” Josie says as she looks at Hazel a bit in disbelief. 

“Well now you have something in common!” Hazel says as she smiles a bit, clearly thinking she was being helpful, as Josie sighs and shakes her head.

“We gotta work on how you comfort people, dude.” Josie says as she gives Hazel a look.

“What’s wrong with how I comfort people?” Hazel says as she furrows her brows in confusion.

“It’s not that there’s something wrong, you just-” Josie says before sighing. “I just mean that if you weren’t one of my best friends and I didn’t know you, I would think you’re being a dick and making fun of me.”

“Oh, really? I thought that would be helpful, cause now you have something in common with her.” Hazel says as she shrugs. 

“I-” Josie starts to say before stopping and sighing a bit. “Thank you Hazel, that actually is helpful.” Josie says as she nods, though she definitely was just saying that to not make Hazel sad.

“Oh really? Sick!” Hazel says with a grin. “Oh you know what you should do? Mention moss! Because it can help you find water! And then you have two things to talk about!” Hazel says excitedly as they continue shopping.

“Hi mom!” Hazel says into the phone excitedly from her hotel room, feeling like she was about to pass out. She had just got back from the meeting with the record label, and The Pussycats had officially been signed for a three year contract, and if their first album did well, then that would most likely be extended. They started recording the rest of the album tomorrow, and the label agreed to pay for the hotel for the time being until the three of them found a place to live in. 

“Hi sweetheart! How are you!” Hazel’s mom says into the phone, sounding like she was yelling for some reason.

“Are you yelling? Why are you talking weird?” Hazel says with a confused tone.

“I’m on my elliptical right now, but I have a face mask and I’m doing that cucumber thing on my eyes! Annie said it will help with my bags and the dark circles! Annie, say hi to Hazel!” Her mom says over the phone, talking to her best friend Annie.

“Hi Hazel! How’s college?” Annie says in the background.

“No, Annie, she’s not at Sarah Lawerence right now, for that… that band thing.” Hazel’s mom says over the phone.

“Oh that’s right! How’s LA? Have you met Robert Downey Jr. yet?” Annie asks in the background, yelling as well.

“I’m here for music stuff, not movies.” Hazel says into the phone as she shakes her head.

“It could happen! If you meet him, tell him I’m single!” Annie yells, which makes Hazel roll her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, okay anyways, mom can I tell you my news now?” Hazel says impatiently.

“Yes, of course sweetheart! What is it? Annie shut up.” Her mom says over the phone.

“We got a record deal! The contract is for three years!” Hazel says excitedly, and her mother gasps over the phone.

“Oh my goodness! That’s amazing!” Her mom yells over the phone, though still clearly exercising as she talks. “Annie, did you hear that? Hazel’s going to be a musician!” 

“Yeah, I know! We start recording the album tomorrow!” Hazel says excitedly as she grins.

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart!” Her mom yells. “Siri! Siri! Si-Ri!” Her mom beggins yelling clearly trying to get her phone’s voice assistant to activate. “Annie why is Siri not working?” 

“Mom, why do you need Siri?” Hazel asks as she furrows her brows in confusion.

“I need to set a reminder to book a flight to LA!” She says to Hazel.

“What? Why?” Hazel asks, clearly confused by her mother’s sudden plans.

“Hazel, you’re going to be famous! I want to be there to see my little Witch Hazel spread her wings!” Her mom says into the phone, using a nickname from when Hazel was little, which makes Hazel groan.

“Mom, please stop calling me that! I’m not five anymore!” Hazel says with embarrassment.

“Siri! Siri! Oh for Christ's sake, Annie, I’m taking the cucumbers off.” Hazel’s mom says, before shuffling noise is heard as she seemingly grabs the phone. “Let me find a good flight, and I’ll fly out as soon as I can sweetheart!” She says excitedly, her voice significantly closer to the phone and not yelling as much since she was now holding the phone.

“No, mom you really don’t-” Hazel starts to say before her mom cuts her off.

“Do you girls need somewhere to stay? I assume you can’t be in a hotel the whole time.” Hazel’s mom says over the phone, which makes Hazel perk up.

“Yeah, actually! That’s part of why I called, I was wondering if we can rent out the beach house or something instead of getting an apartment, because PJ and Josie can’t afford rent out here.” Hazel says quickly. “We’d take really good care of it! We wouldn’t ruin it!”

“Oh, yeah, of course! We can sign you up for surfing lessons too, so you can be a California girl and get the full experience!” Hazel’s mom says with an excited tone.

“Oh I don’t really-” Hazel starts to say before she gets cut off again.

“No, no, no, trust me! You’ll want surfing lessons sweetheart! It’s very rockstar! Plus the instructors are usually hot. I had one a few years ago, what was his name?” Hazel’s mom says as she thinks for a second. “Well, I can’t remember, but I do remember he was very hot! We hooked up a lot that summer, he-” Hazel’s mom starts to say, before Hazel cuts her off.

“Ew, mom! I don’t want to hear about that!” Hazel says with a disgusted look on her face.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Her mom says defensively. “I’m just saying! They’re usually very hot!”

“Mom, I don’t even like men, you know this!” Hazel says, still disgusted at the topic.

“There’s girl instructors too!” Hazel’s mom says over the phone.

“Mom- I- No! I don’t- Can we go back to talking about the beach house?” Hazel says as she stumbles over her words.

“Alright, alright! I’m letting it go! Of course you can use the beach house sweetheart, we can work out all the details when I fly out. Anyways I have to go, I have a decorative bead making class in an hour and I have to change out of my workout clothes. I’ll text you the flight plans once I book it! I love you!” Hazel’s mom says before hanging up the phone, leaving Hazel confused.

“Decorative bead making class?” Hazel says to herself with confusion as Josie and PJ enter the hotel room.

“Hazel, there were the hottest girls at the pool just now, one of them was totally into me! I told you guys this was a good idea!” PJ says excitedly as she throws her towel down on one of the chairs in the hotel room.

“They looked at us like once, PJ.” Josie says as she gives PJ a look.

“Yeah and it was a “I’m totally into you” kind of look!” PJ says as she throws her arms up and looks at Josie. “Oh, Hazel, have you called your mom yet?” She asks as she flops down on the couch.

“Yeah! She said we can move into the beach house!” Hazel says with a smile.

“Fuck yeah!” PJ says excitedly as she punches the air.

“Hey guys? Have we like, put thought into what songs are going on the album?” Josie asks as she grabs a soda from the mini fridge.

“Shit!” PJ says as she sits up a bit.

“I mean I have, but it’s not-” Hazel starts to say as PJ cuts her off.

“Write it down! We need to have a plan for tomorrow! Fuck, Josie! Why’d you make me go to the pool!” PJ says as she panics a bit, as Josie throws her arm up in annoyance, as going to the pool had been PJ’s idea.

“Fuck, that’s not right.” Hazel says as she frowns and scribbles out the notes she wrote on the music sheet. She bites on her pencil for a moment as she thinks, before setting it down and readjusting the electric guitar she was holding and playing different note sequences over again as she tries to figure out the guitar part for a song.

She was currently the only one in the studio, PJ and Josie had left about thirty minutes ago to go grab dinner, but Hazel had stayed behind, determined to figure out this new song they were working on that had her stumped. She had already figured out the general beat and the chorus, but the more fine details and actual instrumentals to the song was frustrating her, as she couldn’t seem to figure out a vibe that she liked and matched with the vision she had for the song. Josie and PJ had tried to convince her to take a break, but she refused to leave until she figured this out, so here she was, alone with one of the electric guitars as she ran over the same section over and over again, trying to come up with something she liked. 

It had been about a week and a half since being signed, and they had been working constantly on the album, picking which songs, discussing with Wyatt, and had even decided to come up with a few new ones per Wyatt’s suggestion, giving them advice and his thoughts on what the album was missing. 

Staring off into space, she hums the general vibe of the song she had so far to herself, her fingers absentmindedly tap against the base of the guitar as she bites her lip a bit and thinks. Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice the sound of the door to the studio opening as she begins playing another random string of notes on the guitar, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“Is that for the album?” Y/N asks from the door, as she leans against the doorframe, making Hazel jump in her seat a bit.

“Oh my god, hi!” She says as she quickly turns and sees Y/N, heart immediately racing.

“Hi.” Y/N says as she grins softly. “They leave you in here by yourself?” She asks as she looks around at the empty recording studio.

“Oh, yeah. Josie and PJ went to go grab food but I wanted to stay and work on this new song we’re writing.” Hazel says as she smiles, trying not to show how nervous she is.

“Can I hear it? I promise I won’t steal it.” Y/N says with a small laugh, a teasing grin on her face that makes Hazel’s stomach do cartwheels.

“Oh it’s not- I mean- it’s- I’m still working on it. It’s in shambles right now.” Hazel says, nervously stumbling over her words.

“That’s okay, I won’t judge.” Y/N says with a laugh as she shakes her head. 

“Oh, I mean- uh, yeah sure, if you really want to then.” Hazel says as she nods a bit.

“Yeah, show me what you got so far.” She says with a smile as she walks inside, the studio door closing behind her as she goes and sits down on one of the chairs near Hazel.

“Okay, yeah. Um, so this song is supposed to be like towards the end of the album kind of. A lot of our songs are like in the alternative category, but Wyatt said we should add more variety to what we have so far, so we added a few slower ones, and for this one, PJ said she wanted it to be more “funky” but not 70’s, and I don’t really know what that means. We don’t even have all the lyrics either, it’s very unfinished right now.” Hazel says as she nervously runs a hand through her hair, avoiding eye contact with Y/N.

“What are you working on right now?” Y/N asks as she scoots a bit closer to see what Hazel had written down so far. “I can try and help if you want.”

“Really?” Hazel asks as she looks at her in shock.

“Yeah.” Y/N says as she smiles and nods her head. “Nymphology finished recording for the day, I was heading out but I saw someone was in here so I wanted to say hi in case it was you.” 

“Why me?” Hazel asks, both in shock and confusion.

“Well we didn’t really get to talk a few weeks ago, and I’m curious about the moss thing now, because I think it was Josie? But anyways, one of the girls in my band is named Isabel, and apparently Josie brought up moss the other day.” Y/N says as she laughs a bit. “I’m just curious now if that’s like a friend group thing or not.”

“No! It’s not! It’s my thing! I told Josie about it because she likes Isabel so I said she should bring up moss because they both like water, so it connects, and that’s what I do.” Hazel says quickly as she shakes her head, before her eyes go wide as she realizes what she said. “Shoot, don’t tell her I said that.” She says as Y/N laughs.

“So you bring up moss as a flirting tactic?” Y/N asks with a grin, which makes Hazel panic.

“What? What- No! No, I don’t- Sometimes, but like-” Hazel says as she immediately stumbles over her words and blushes a bit. “Anyways the song!” She says quickly as she turns back to the paper she had been writing on. What is wrong with me?! She thinks to herself as Y/N giggles. She was rarely like this around girls. Fuck. She seriously needed to ignore the fact that Y/N was super pretty and get her game back. Except when she actually thought about it, that was definitely very impossible. Double fuck. “Anyways, this is the part I’m trying to figure out right now.” Hazel says as she nervously runs her hand through her hair again before readjusting the guitar again, internally just a jumbled mess on nerves and anxiety as she begins playing what she had so far on the guitar.

“And your friend said she wanted it to be what? Funky but not 70’s?” Y/N asks after thinking for a minute, a quizzical expression on her face.

“Yeah.” Hazel says softly as she avoids eye contact, glancing all over, eyes falling on Y/N’s shoes though, as the red converse had a lot of doodles all over them.

“Can I see what else you have?” Y/N asks, a bit more serious now as Hazel hands her the papers and notes without saying anything. She reads over, her fingers tapping against the paper as she figures out the beat and the drum parts Hazel had so far. “I think the only “funky” kind of part should be the guitar. But even then less funky and more fun. Do you listen to Paramore?” She asks as she looks over at Hazel.

“Wh- Yeah, I do.” Hazel says as her head snaps up and she nods.

“I don’t know if this will make sense, but maybe coming up with something that sounds like how their album cover for After Laughter looks?” Y/N says as she shrugs and furrows her brows a bit.

“I- That does actually, yeah.” Hazel says as she nods.

“Like, hold on, let me think.” Y/N says as she furrows her brows for a moment. “Can I see that quick?” She asks as she gestures to the guitar. 

“Oh, yeah, here.” Hazel says as she hands her the guitar, heart unintentionally racing a bit as their hands accidentally brush against each other.

They spend a while going over random chord progressions and different melodies, until after a while, they had created a pretty solid backbone for the guitar part of the song, that Hazel and the others could flesh out more later. As time goes on Hazel gradually relaxes more, being able to focus on the song and music helping her distract herself from her nerves, and allowing her to start cracking jokes more and actually engage in conversation outside of the song and music stuff.

By the time Josie and PJ arrive, Y/N was telling Hazel about crazy fan experiences, and wild things that had happened to her and her friends over the years, laughing as she mentions the time she had created a fake twitter account and started beef with herself and how pissed the fans got at her burner account. 

“Hey, Hazel- Oh. Hi?” PJ says as she walks in, doing a double take when she sees Y/N.

“Hi.” Y/N says with a smile as she looks over at PJ and Josie. “I’m Y/N. I’m friends with Hazel.” She says as she smiles and gestures to Hazel, the statement making Hazel smile.

“We know. You’re in Nymphology.” Josie says as she nods a bit nervously.

“Mhmm.” Y/N says with a nod. “You’re Josie, right?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Josie says as she nods.

“Isabel’s told me about you.” Y/N says with a small giggle, making Josie blush and get a nervous smile on her face as she looks away, clearly worried about the fact Isabel had mentioned her to her bandmates.

“I’m PJ!” PJ quickly says as she stares at Y/N.

“Anyways, um, you should probably go, thanks for the help.” Hazel says quickly as she gathers the papers scattered around them.

“Oh, yeah of course, anytime.” Y/N says with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. It was fun, I’ll see you soon probably.” Hazel says as she quickly gets up, immediately nervous and embarrassed again now that PJ and Josie were there.

“If you need any more help, let me know. It was nice meeting you guys.” Y/N says to Hazel before turning and smiling to PJ and Josie as she walks out, shutting the door behind her after waving bye.

“What the fuck?” PJ says in shock as her and Josie immediately look at Hazel, who was now heavily blushing as she fiddles with the shirt she was wearing.

I genuinely love writing this story its sm fun. I love Hazel she's so cute. Also I fr have no clue how record label stuff works so I'm kinda just pulling this out of my ass lmao. I'm like "yeah I watched Daisy Jones and The Six and can google basic steps for this, good enough" and then just hoped it would be accurate dfdhsfkjhej. dividers from @saradika and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more graphic made by me lol

#hazel callahan #hazel bottoms #bottoms hazel #hazel x reader #bottoms movie #ruby cruz #hazel callahan x reader #ruby cruz x reader #danicamaximoff #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan smut #rockstar au #hazel callahan x you #bottoms 2023

[nightimedreamersworld]

Wip Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me dears @artsyunderstudy and @cutestkilla ❤️ your snippets are lovely as usual.

Also thank yous to everyone else who's tagged me these past weeks! I'm sorry I haven't been super active lately. I've been spending lots of time with family, so I'm progressing slowly on my WIPs

But!! Rest assured I'm still working on them. Here's a snippet from the chapter 3 of The Naked Truth:

Simon’s mouth is hotter than his skin, somehow. It makes me wonder about the rest of his body. His neck is also warm, and tender. I don’t know how my fangs haven’t dropped yet. I can feel them itching to sink into him.  I don’t bite him, though. I won’t. I don’t really want to. I’d never hurt him.  But I do press my fingers against his neck, where his pulse is strongest. Then my hand wanders over the back of his head, where his hair is buzzed short and prickly. Then up—I grab a fistful of his curls. Simon gasps and climbs further on top of me.  I can feel him against me. All of him, from head to toe.  All of him.  I manage to pull my head back enough to look down, just in time to see Simon’s pants turning to mist.

(Little update on the posting schedule: I wanted to have chapter 2 out this week, but I'm a little sick rn so it might not happen.)

Tagging some friends: hope you have a great Wednesday! @rimeswithpurple @bookish-bogwitch @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @captain-aralias @hushed-chorus @larkral @letraspal @stitchyqueer @mooncello @supercutedinosaurs @blackberrysummerblog @valeffelees @forabeatofadrum @aristocratic-otter @alexalexinii @run-for-chamo-miles @prettygoododds @emeryhall @whatevertheweather @whogaveyoupermission @iamamythologicalcreature @j-nipper-95 @thewholelemon and anyone who'd like to join! ❤️

#simon snow series #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Seven

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.2k

Notes: I am posting TWO new chapters back-to-back (7 & 8) as they take place at the same time but from multiple POV's. I'd recommend reading chapter 8 as soon as you can after this one, so its fresh in your brain ;)

Chapter Warnings (minor spoilers in the tags...): 18+ MDNI. Soft!Dave York (like, you can't even stand it. Soft Dave needs his own warning). Porn WITH plot (who gave me the right?). All the feelings (I'm sorry). Unprotected P in V. Creampie. Angst! (in MY porn story? who am I?). Infidelity-ish I guess, technically (look these are just 3 idiots in love who don't know what tf they're doing, okay?). Plus probably ever other tag from previous chapters... you know the drill by now for this series.

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board. I really appreciate all your help!

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

You power nap through the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, thanks to the blackout curtains drawn shut but mostly in large part due to the strenuous activities the three of you had gotten up to just before you’d passed out. You remember your eyes closing involuntarily as you lay half draped over Dave, Marcus snuggled into your back and his own breaths began to even out just as yours did.

Soft lips pressed to your forehead and a light hand brushing over your hair causes you to stir some time later and you wake feeling rested, a satisfied smile playing at your lips as you rouse to consciousness.

“Hi Baby” you murmur into your pillow. You don’t even need to open your eyes to know it’s your husband.

He presses a kiss to your forehead once more and breathes out a whispered “I’m sorry” that makes whatever peacefulness you were reveling in vanish in an instant.

His words are enough to get your eyes to fully open. You stare up at him, brow furrowed in confusion as to what on earth he could possibly have to be sorry about and when your gaze sets on him he’s seated next to you on the side of the bed and looking far too overly dressed in tan khakis and a black polo shirt, the expression on his handsome features substantiating his remorse.

“Where are you going?” You ask, concern laced in your tone as you push yourself up into a seated position. Maybe you all are just going out for a late dinner or something and he was apologizing for having to wake you up from your nap for it, but the frown of his face quickly dispels that theory.

He lets out a sigh and hangs his head slightly. It’s then you notice his hair is wet so he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. “Something came up, at work. An emergency” he clarifies, gaze still fixed to the comforter he’s sitting on rather than looking at you. “Cab’s downstairs already.”

“You have to go?!” You ask, incredulous. Your voice raises maybe a little higher than you should’ve let it, but you were rightly shocked that your husband has to leave you now, on your birthday no less.

“Where are you going?” Dave’s voice immediately floods into the room and you look up to see him wandering into the bedroom, towel around his hips and another around his neck that he’s using to dry his hair.

He must’ve showered just after Marcus, you presume.

“Uh work. Last minute thing just… came up. I um, I’ll try not to be long” Marcus continues, turning back towards you for the last part.

“There’s no one else?” You try, sounding a little pouty, you know, but you really don’t want him to go.

He sighs, taking your hands in his and bringing them up to place a kiss to your knuckles before whispering another “I’m sorry” against them.

“But look why don’t you order dinner, or go downstairs for it even, just have it all billed back to the room and I’ll take care of it later, ok?”

“Ok…” you sigh, eyes cast downward. You feel silly for feeling so emotional, he’s literally spent the last 24 hours at your side giving you the best birthday you’ve ever had and you’re still near tears just because he has to leave you. Marcus has a very important job and you know these things come up from time to time. He’s been dragged away from anniversaries, birthdays, even your cousin's wedding on one occasion but it all came with the territory of being married to a senior Federal Agent and you knew that and had accepted it long ago so you just offer a small nod of your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him right now. You don’t want to make him feel more guilty than he likely already does by seeing the disappointment that’s surely written across your features.

Dave is oddly quiet, too. Still hanging back at the doorway leading into the bedroom you presume as you haven’t heard him moving around. With a sigh Marcus leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder before pushing himself up and off the bed. “I’ll call” he promises. You nod again, forcing a smile to your lips as you finally raise your head to look up at him.

“Hurry back” you playfully scold, reaching a hand out to lightly smack his hip with the back of your hand and he chuckles.

“Happy Birthday Babe” he tells you once more before reaching for your hand and giving it a small squeeze. He sighs, settles his shoulders, drops your hand and finally turns away from you. You sit up in bed and watch as he crosses the room until he reaches the doorway where Dave is still standing there in a towel.

“I’ll um... Yeah, I’ll see ya” is all Marcus offers to him before brushing past him. A few seconds go by and you hear the front door of the room open and then click shut.

Well… now what?

“Are you um… are you hungry?” You ask Dave, suddenly feeling awkward as you bunch the sheet up a little higher under your armpits to ensure you stay covered up. “We could order something again, or even go down to the restaurant to eat if you wanna get out of this room” you shrug.

The room feels suddenly too small for the two of you. Like you shouldn’t be in such close proximity to each other without Marcus present (especially not in the state of undress you’re both in). It’s not that you feel uncomfortable around Dave, more like the opposite, and therein lies your problem. Dave makes you feel… a lot. But discomfort is not one of those feelings. The only thing uncomfortable about being around Dave is probably how comfortable you feel around him now. Like you could just walk across the room to him right now and throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like it’s a habit.

But you can’t. Of course you can’t. Marcus didn’t explicitly implore you not to, but he also didn’t outright give his blessing either. It feels wrong without Marcus here and you think both you and Dave can feel it, the way the energy shifted in the room the moment your husband stepped out of it. You have been alone with Dave before of course, but only once, and with your husband's enthusiastic permission. Insistence, even. Now there’s a sexual tension hanging in the air that makes this massive suite feel suffocating.

Finally after what feels like a moment dragged on far too long, Dave answers. “Should probably get going, right?” he shrugs his shoulders, voicing aloud what you’re both thinking.

You don’t want him to leave. Of course you don’t. But you both know he needs to.

“Yeah, right” your gaze is cast downwards again as your fingers pick at a loose thread in the soft sheet covering you. You suck in a breath, willing for no tears to fall to your cheeks as you begin to feel overwhelmed with loss, with what your evening had become versus what you had managed to conjure it up to be in your fantasies while you were falling asleep just hours earlier.

You had thoughts. A lot of thoughts. Especially after what had inspired earlier, you were ready and willing to experience a lot more of that and you’d told yourself you were going to be brave and honest and adult about it and tell them both exactly what you wanted, but now here you were about to be left alone in this hotel room. Maybe you’d just pack everything up and go home, text Marcus and let him know to meet you back there after work. You didn’t want to sit around this giant reminder of what you were missing out on tonight.

You remain seated in the bed, back against the headboard and arms wrapped around your legs that are bent at the knees in front of you, hugging yourself as Dave wanders around the bedroom getting dressed in fresh clothes and cleaning up all of his belongings, stuffing them back into his overnight bag. You glance at him occasionally as he busies himself packing, eventually moving out of the bedroom and throughout the rest of the suite to gather what’s left.

“Think that’s it” he sighs as he re-enters the bedroom a minute or so later and takes one final glance around to ensure he hasn’t forgotten anything.

“I’ll walk you out” you say, suddenly remembering your manners and Dave manages a small chuckle but ultimately holds up his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t need to get up on my account, I’ll see myself out”

You nod your head, a murmured “ok” leaving your lips as you wrap your arms back around your knees again.

Dave crosses the room over to your side, hesitation in his steps until he finally reaches you. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead and then smiles softly as he pulls away. “Happy Birthday” he tells you. “Hope it was a good one” he adds with a playful wink and your lips instantly spread into a grin across your face, despite your less than happy mood.

“Best one yet” you promise him. It was the truth, after all.

“Goodnight” he finally says, after a long drawn out silence stretches between you and he turns on his heel, exiting the bedroom. A moment later you hear the main door exiting the room open and shut again and just like that, he’s gone, and you’re alone.

Your head falls back down to your knees and you gently shake it back and forth, willing yourself to be strong and not break down to tears like you want to. It was silly, really, but dammit if it didn’t hurt all the same.

With a huff into the empty room you decide you’re not just going to lie there feeling sorry for yourself all night. You’re going to get up, clean up and start packing to meet Marcus back at home like you had thought about earlier. It was too sad sitting in this gorgeous suite all alone, watching a clock or your phone waiting on your husband to return. You get up and throw on one of Marcus’ t-shirts and a fresh pair of panties, quickly use the bathroom and brush your teeth and then begin to wander about the room, picking up clothes and toiletries and any other of yours or Marcus’ belongings and start packing them into the small suitcase. Once everything is packed you take a look around the suite and realize what a disaster you’ve all made. Between dirty dishes, empty coffee cups, liquor and champagne bottles, and a haphazardly made bed, you decide to tidy up a bit as well before you leave. You know that’s Housekeeping's job but you don’t think you could live with yourself knowing you left a room in the state this one was in so you begin about tossing away trash, collecting empty bottles to line them up on the small counter top and fixing up the bed at least halfway decently. The “do not disturb” sign had been stationary on the outside of the suite door handle since your arrival last night so no cleaning staff had bothered to come by and you couldn’t in good conscience leave the room the way it was.

You stand in the middle of the living room and take a final glance around, satisfied with how you’re leaving things now and go to turn back to the bedroom to get dressed and collect your suitcase when there’s a sudden knock at the door. Your brow furrows at who it could be but you head over to pull it open away, thinking maybe your husband had decided to take the liberty to order dinner for you, rightfully assuming you would skip it all together had it been solely up to you.

You reach the door and pull it open, ready to let whoever is on the opposite side of the door know that you won’t be staying to eat but the words die on your tongue as it swings open and reveals what - or rather who - waits on the other side.

“Hi” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi” he murmurs back, eyes boring into yours.

With one large hand planted against the door frame, Dave looms over you as a dead silence stretches on between you. You know what he’s waiting for. He’s waiting for you to tell him to leave, that he shouldn’t be here. He still has his duffel in his other hand which means he didn’t even make it to his car. From the close proximity you can smell the alcohol on his breath, maybe he only made it as far as the hotel bar and convinced himself to turn right back around.

Either way, you know you just don’t have it in you to turn him away. He knows it, too. Despite not even knowing you very long, he’s always been able to read you like a book.

There’s always been a pull between the two of you, a magnetic attraction. But over the past couple of visits, and certainly over the last 24 hours, something has shifted. You’d felt it, and given the way Dave was looking at you now, you know he did too.

Dave is first to break the silence with a whispered “fuck” before he pushes his way fully inside. Duffel dropped to the floor just inside the entryway, his left arm wraps around your waist and lifts you easily as his other hastily slams the door shut before joining the other to secure you to his body. Your legs wrap around him and both his hands grab hold at your ass while yours wrap around his neck and your lips meet in a heated frenzy as Dave carries you further inside.

“Where?” Dave mumbles against your lips between kisses, halfway across the living room by now.

“Bed. Take me to bed” you answer easily. You don’t want a quick fuck on the couch or against a wall. There’s a yearning inside of you that can’t be fully satisfied unless you do this right. Dave hums his approval into your mouth, passing by the couch and into the next room until he reaches the foot of the bed and he stops to let you down, your body slowly sliding down his front until your bare feet hit the floor. Your arms remain around his neck, his at your waist and he looks down at you, forehead resting against yours, holding your gaze for several long seconds.

“Thought you left” you manage to say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” he admits. Your breaths mingle in the limited space between you, the temperature in the room suddenly stifling. Dave can feel the way your body slightly trembles in his arms, just as you can easily read the longing in his gaze. You want this. You both do.

“Tell me to go” he tries, voice so low and soft it’s barely discernible, his eyes falling shut and thumbs absently rubbing back and forth at your hips.

“Can’t” you answer simply. He knows it’s the truth.

“Then tell me to stay” he tries instead, eyes opening again to search yours, needing your consent, your affirmation that you feel this too, whatever is inside of him. He needs to know that you need him as much in this moment as he needs you. That you’re willing to cross this line with him.

You don’t answer him with words. You can’t. Instead you lower one arm down to take his hand into yours and you lead him around the bed, turning once you reach the head of it and dropping his hand to bring both of yours to the waistband of his jeans, slowly popping each one of the buttons of his 501’s until they’re fully open and you’re able to push the denim down his hips. He helps you free him from the confines of his jeans until they’re bunched at the floor and he quickly toes out of his shoes before kicking his pants the rest of the way off. His t-shirt goes next as he reaches behind him and drags it up and over his torso, quickly tossing it aside before both his hands come down to cradle your face and he stands before you in only his boxer briefs.

Words still unspoken, your hands come up to splay across his chest and give him a gentle guiding push. He follows your lead, sinking down onto the mattress and gets seated with his back against the headboard, bringing his legs up to stretch out in front of him as you carefully crawl on top of him, one knee bent on either side of his hips as you straddle his lap and then lower your forehead to rest against his, bringing a hand down to gently caress against his cheek.

Dave lets out a desperate little groan before pressing forward enough so he can capture your mouth. He kisses you slow and deep, moaning into you when your lips part and his tongue brushes yours. It’s not the bruising, desperate and rushed kisses you’re used to from Dave. It’s soft and romantic and decidedly intimate.

His right hand trails up your side under the oversized t-shirt and cups a bare breast before deft fingers begin to play with your nipple, gently pinching and rolling it between the pads of his fingers while your back arches into his touch, desperate for more. He takes the hint and pulls you back just enough so he can tug the t-shirt up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor before pulling you closer once more. His mouth trails downwards, placing hot open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, down the column of your throat, your collarbone, and finally finding purchase on your other breast, mouthing over the pert bud before gently sucking it into his mouth.

You moan at his actions, hands coming to card through his hair, gently scraping his scalp with your fingernails.

“God you make me feel so good” you pant and he moans his appreciation for your praise into your heated flesh. “So good to me, baby.”

He continues to kiss and lick and suckle at your breasts, paying each one equal attention and his hand pleasuring whichever one his mouth isn’t currently fastened to and you arch further into him, head thrown back and allowing your hips to grind against his groin. He’s growing hard underneath you, you can feel him swell and begin to strain against the tight fabric of his underwear as you take your own pleasure from him, reveling in the friction created between your legs with each slow drag of his hardening length between your cotton covered core.

“God, fuck!” You whine, swearing you could come from this alone. Dave groans into your breasts, hands coming to take hold at your hips and help guide your movements to grind down further into him.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful” Dave lets out, breathless as you rock on top of him, your body on full display as you take out your pleasure on him with each downward press of your pelvis into his. “My perfect girl” he praises before surging upwards to capture your mouth with his once more, tongues entwining immediately into that all too familiar dance now as he wraps a strong arm around your waist and easily flips you both until you’re underneath him, his body weight gently pressing you deeper into the mattress as he kisses you until you’re both left breathless.

He’s cradled deliciously right between your legs as you lay on your back with your knees bent and raised in the air to accommodate him as he slowly continues to grind against you and before long it gets to be simultaneously too much, yet not enough and you reach down, desperately shoving at the soft material of his boxers to get them off. He laughs against your lips between kisses but quickly obliges your silent request, aiding you in pulling them all the way down before he can kick them away and then slowly he lowers himself down the length of your body, pausing to kiss and lick and nip at whatever piece of flesh he finds along his descent until he’s up on his elbows with his face hovering right above your core.

“Dave, fuck” you whine, hand instinctively reaching out to push through his hair.

Dave however seems intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity as he places a soft kiss to your still covered mound, then gently rubs his nose through the seam of your folds and finally sticks his tongue out to lap a few times at your panties, creating enough of a wet spot between his saliva and your own arousal that it nearly feels like there’s no barrier between you at all, your white panties surely transparent by now.

“Please, please, please.” It’s barely above a whisper. A pathetic whine, really, the way you beg for him. Need him.

He turns his head, placing little kisses at your thighs and hips until finally his hands go to the elastic waistband of your panties and he slowly peels them down your legs until you’re finally rid of them and he tosses them to the floor before crawling back up your body and capturing your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing down each one of your moans with his mouth.

“I need you” you confess, breathless and writhing under the solid weight of him.

Dave groans, pulling his lips away from your mouth to nuzzle into your throat instead where he voices his own desperation “need you too. Fuck I need you”.

You moan at his admission, reaching to grab for his face to bring it back to yours but he diverts slightly downwards, bringing the attention of his mouth back to your breasts. He takes one into his mouth while his right hand gropes the other, massaging and kneading the flesh under his large grasp before delicately taking your pebbled nipple between his fingers to pinch and tweak at it until you’re writhing into his touch all over again.

Dave always made sure to prepare you for him, but never had the two of you taken so much time for just foreplay and you feel like you’ve been on the edge of an orgasm for an eternity by now. You’re used to Dave taking you hard and fast but tonight he seems perfectly content on taking his time to unravel you until you’re nothing but putty in his hands, desperate for him to carve you out and mold you into his body however he sees fit.

Before long his free hand drifts down your side and goes between your legs and when he feels how absolutely soaked and ready you are he lets out a little growl of need and for a moment you’re certain the Dave you’re used to is about to take over. He’s going to toss you around until you’re in the position he wants and drive his cock into you so hard and fast that you forget your own name and can only scream out his.

But you wait, and it doesn’t happen. He continues to gently kiss, lick and play with your breasts while his other hand presses into your folds, slides down to plunge two fingers inside of you and raises his thumb to circle your clit. Your hands become lost in his hair, desperate for anything to hold onto as you grind yourself into his hand, panting, moaning and whispering little bits of praise at how well he takes care of you and Dave is absolutely eating it up. With every little adoration that slips past your lips he moans or whimpers into your skin, eager for your praise and eager to please you and it’s night and day to the Dave you’re used to that tells you to stay still and take what he has to give you.

A third finger joins the first two as he slowly strokes your walls, curling them at just the right spot deep inside of you that has you mewling and whimpering under his delicate touch. They drag in and out of your core at a slow but precise pace as he works you open, his mouth never faltering from pleasuring your breasts while his hand drives you to the brink of sanity. He knows your body well enough by now that he can sense when you’re getting close and he amps up his pace, fingers gliding in and out of your wet heat easily with renewed vigor as the lewd sounds of your gushing arousal coating his digits and slapping of skin against skin fills the small space of the bedroom.

Before long, you finally cum on his fingers, back arching and a long drawn out moan releasing from the depths of your throat and Dave’s mouth climbs back up your body to swallow down the rest of your moans while his fingers continue their delightful torture below, working you through your orgasm as your walls pulse and contract around his thick fingers.

“Oh my god” you sigh, hands wrapping around Dave’s head as he buries his face in the side of yours and his hand finally leaves your sex to rest at your hip instead, giving you some reprieve. He shifts to lie on his side next to you now, pressing in close against your body while you lie on your back, body still trembling as you come back down from your high.

“You’re so beautiful” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss just below your ear while his thumb absently runs back and forth against your hip. “So perfect” another kiss, this time to the underside of your jaw and you turn on your side to face him. “So good to me” he concludes, pressing a kiss to your lips.

He’s being so sweet and attentive and incredibly affectionate and though you definitely like the harder, dominating side of Dave, there’s something about his softness that you’re finding just as addictive.

You’re well and truly fucked now. Literally, figuratively.

You try to ignore the way your heart swells as you lie here on your sides face to face, slowly kissing and exploring each other with your hands. Dave’s touch is slow and methodical, like he needs to map out every inch of you to commit to memory like he might never see it again and you arch into his touch every chance you get, desperate to feel more of him. It’s not long before your body is craving him again and with how you can feel him pressed against your belly, you know he needs you too. You roll on top of him and take his face in both hands, ensuring his eyes focus on you and they do, his hands stilling on either side of your hips.

“Make love to me. Please David”

The words barely get past your lips before Dave surges upward, mouth capturing yours in a desperate and heated kiss. His arms wrap around you and he flips you both so you’re underneath him again as his tongue invades the heat of your mouth, the wet muscle wrapping around yours as he seemingly puts every emotion he has into the passionate kiss.

Below you he’s gently lifting one of your legs up so it’s bent at the knee before his hand goes between his own legs to guide himself to line up at your entrance. It’s a slow press of his hips that pushes him inside of you and you both moan into each other's mouth once he enters you, filling you up so completely. He stills once he’s buried to the hilt and and pulls back from your mouth so his forehead rests against yours, your panting breaths mingling in the limited space between you.

Your name leaves his lips in a whisper and it nearly catches you off guard. You’re not even sure you’ve ever heard him say it before. He’s called you lots of names, sure, but never your own and a warmth spreads through your whole body at how it sounds coming from his lips like a forbidden secret meant only for your ears. Your hands go back to his face and pull him back in, your mouths melding together as he slowly begins to move.

“My god you’re fucking perfect” he breathes out as he pulls back just enough so that he can look into your eyes as he gently rocks his hips in and out of you and both your legs come up, locking your ankles together behind his back to keep him impossibly close as he ruts into you. “My perfect girl” he praises, eyes slipping shut as his forehead rests against yours and he focuses all his attention on how good you feel completely wrapped around him, consumed by him.

He fucks you slow and deep for what seems like an eternity, neither of you in any hurry to finish, just wanting to feel. Every slow drag of his cock against the wet heat of your walls sends a tingle down your spine that has your toes curling, ankles digging deeper into the soft and sweat-slicked flesh of his back. Eventually though the need for a release comes on strong and fast for you both and refuses to be ignored. Your legs wrap around his torso a little tighter, your hand in his hair gripping harder and his hot breaths against your neck getting more ragged as his hips pick up the pace.

“Close?” he asks between labored breaths into the shell of your ear and you nod against him.

“Mmmhmm, fuck I’m so close, please”

“C’mere” he breathes, turning onto his side and shifting you into the same position, lying on your right side with your back to his front. He lifts your left leg that rests on top of your right so he can slip in between them again and slide right back into your welcoming heat, both of you groaning in pleasure at how much deeper he can reach inside of you at this angle.

“Oh my god” you cry out when he begins to piston back and forth.

“Right there?” he breathes against the side of your face and you whimper unintelligibly, nodding your head before turning it back so you can capture his lips, allowing him to swallow down each of your moans.

The hand still hooked under your leg wanders slightly until it reaches its prize between your legs, deft fingers pressing down exactly how you need them to and rubbing small tight circles against your puffy, swollen clit and that’s all it takes. Within moments you’re falling apart, a wrecked sob leaving your throat as your arm that’s not currently underneath you comes up to wrap around Dave’s neck, securing him to you as you whimper, whine and moan into his mouth, your orgasm completely taking hold over you for several long seconds.

“Baby, I can’t, I’m - fuck” he groans, holding himself back with no small amount of effort from finishing. The way your walls clamp down around him as he feels your release coating him, your limbs entwined all around his own that tremble and pulse like his own second heartbeat.

“Let go, it’s ok” you manage between shaky breaths, neck still craned so your lips are just a whisper away from his. “Wanna feel you, please. Want you inside me. Fill me up, baby. Please”

The moment the last words leave your lips he pushes in deep one final time and lets go, a strangled groan leaving his lips as he empties inside of you, pulsing as he paints the inside of your walls with rope after rope of his warm spend.

“Oh my god, oh my god” he groans into your throat as he slowly begins moving his hips again, ensuring every last drop of his seed stays buried deep inside you.

“Mmm hmmm” you whine, a desperate little sob escaping you as he continues to fuck his cum into you. “David, baby, god don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop”. He lets out a low growl, fucking you through the aftershocks of both your orgasms for as long as he can manage, then gives one final deep push as far as he can possibly reach and stills for several long seconds until he’s forced to pull back and finally, regretfully, slips out of you.

“Baby,” he sighs, like he’s physically pained by pulling out of you, wishing he could stay there forever. He gently lowers your leg back down and his arms reach around underneath you to embrace you and he rolls you so you’re on top of him, neither of you concerned about your sweat slicked bodies or the sticky mess where his spent cock rests against your swollen sex.

“That was incredible” he confesses in a low whisper before planting a kiss to your temple, a strong arm coming up to wrap around your head and hold you close, afraid if he lets go you might just disappear.

In your post-orgasmic clarity you feel yourself begin to tense as you try to comprehend what exactly you just did and more importantly, what it means. Whatever that was, felt so different than every time before with Dave. You want to open your mouth to say something to him, to discuss what just happened and hopefully get some kind of gauge on what he’s feeling but your brain is a jumbled mess and the words don’t come in time before he’s gently rolling you off of him to get up.

He grabs for one of the discarded towels from earlier that you’d tossed over the back of the armchair in the room and brings it between your legs, gently wiping away any leftover mess that’s there before he bends down and places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m going to take a shower” he tells you and you can do little more than nod your head. You wish you could form at least one coherent thought in your brain but they all escape you. You don’t even know where to begin, or what you even want to say. Or if you should be even having any sort of intimate conversation between the two of you without Marcus present.

None of it feels right, except for the part where it all feels right, and that alone terrifies you. You flip over onto your side and nestle into the pillows, willing for your brain to just shut down and provide you with a few minutes of solace. By some miracle, peace does come to you in the form of sleep, your body too spent and exhausted to stay awake a moment longer and you’re passed out before you even hear the shower stop running.

You don’t wake up to the snick of the hotel door closing shut after Dave gathered up every last piece of evidence of himself in the room and left without a word while you slept soundly, blissfully unaware that when his lips pressed against your forehead right before he walked out the door that it was the last time he intended on ever seeing you again. Either of you.

Next Chapter

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#pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #dave york #marcus pike #dave york fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x marcus pike x reader

[kazumist]

EPISODE 7 ★ FUZZY FEELING

FAKE IT TILL WE MAKE IT — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterpost / prev ep / next ep / timestamps don't matter

scaramouche must have been crazy.

seriously? a date? it was the last thing you expected! however, if you were going to pretend to be a couple, going on dates is actually a given. and like you said in your message to him:

we both have to suck it up.

even if that means having your first date with the guy you hate.

luckily enough, the awkward ride to the aquarium ended faster than you expected. but now that you’re here, how does one enjoy an aquarium date anyway? or what does one even talk about on their first date in general?

these were the questions running through both of your heads as you mindlessly wandered around.

“hey,” scaramouche starts.

“hmm?”

“this fish looks a lot like childe for some reason.”

when you turned to look at what he was looking at, you seriously had to hold back a loud laugh. because why does the fish actually look like childe? “that’s a clownfish, right?” you ask him.

“you know about these things?”

“not really; i just watched finding nemo back then as a kid.”

“oh wait, here’s the description. yeah, it’s a clownfish, and it seems like even their description fits childe even more,” scaramouche says, pointing his head at a podium nearby with his hands inside his pockets.

“clownfish are active and territorial fish with an erratic swimming pattern who sometimes appear to be doing acrobatics while defending the area around their anemone," you read aloud. “see? it fits him perfectly.”

“are you saying childe seems to do acrobatics sometimes?”

“no, i’m saying that he’s way too hyper for his own good.”

“isn’t that supposed to be venti, though?”

“they’re practically the same kind; does it really matter who is who?”

you laugh at his response. 

maybe this isn’t so bad. just maybe.

with the sun almost setting, your little trip to the aquarium ends, and you both decide to stop by a cafe on the way home.

but unfortunately, the awkward tension comes back.

what now? are you supposed to say, “hey, i had fun today,” and just move along? are you supposed to ask, “so how did the date go for you? did you have fun like i did?” you couldn’t find the right words to say, but you couldn’t stand this awkward atmosphere either.

“i… kinda had fun today.”

can this guy read minds or something?

"likewise."

time flew by faster than you expected, and now you were walking out of the cafe with scaramouche. “thanks for today, even though i was kinda against it at first,” you said.

“i hope you realize that we have to do this often if we really want to be convincing.”

“yeah, yeah, i get it. give me a break. who would’ve thought that i would be going on a date with you, of all people?”

“why do you sound so icked by the thought of going out with me?” he rolled his eyes.

“because i am icked by it, smart ass.”

“says the one who equally enjoyed the day like i did?”

“sorry, my pride is too high to make me admit that i actually enjoyed your company.”

he shakes his head at your response. how very… likely of you to say such a thing.

“i guess this is goodbye, then?” scaramouche asks.

“yeah. why? do you not want the day to end?”

“don’t put words into my mouth.”

“you didn’t really deny it, you know.”

“why are you like this?” 

“why shouldn’t i be like this?”

from your peripheral vision, you could see a familiar sight of blue-ish white hair as well as a blonde walking nearby. since they didn’t really know that this wasn’t real, you acted out of impulse. but what did you do exactly?

you kissed scaramouche on the cheek and waved him goodbye, just like that.

extra notes.

i didn't expect this chapter to be so long uhm idk im 50/50 on the narrations bc deadass it was hard 2 write for me ... OTL

theyre kinda getting close! emphasize on kinda though

more silly little romance in the next chapter haha pls stay tuned

synopsis.

what happens when scaramouche, your rival since the first year of highschool, had some annoying admirers on his back? easy—he (fake) dates you to shoo them off. nothing can possibly go wrong with faking a relationship with the guy you hate, right?

spoiler: apparently, a lot can go wrong.

taglist (open): @niiheng @yinyinggie @ilyuu @veekoko @motherscrustytoenailclippings @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @akairaindrops @kichiyoshi @lxkeeeee @user11918163805279 @sketcheeee @yukiipc @kyouzki @quokkatss @ynverse @yuyumaru @danhenglovebot @sheep-from-rad @gekkow @aeongiies @scararaw @beriiov @thenightsflower @simpforsubmissivemen @sakurapeach @akxtagawaxryxn0sxke @naheana @supernova25 @mitsu-moshi @yelleloww @kiyomi-hoku @kazemiya @theblueblub @lazy-sanns

#( smau — fake it till we make it ! ) #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smau #wanderer smau #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin smau #x reader

[nerdraging4point0]

The Scorpion and the Scales // Chapter Five // PolyAU

Tropes and Tags: MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only MDNI, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @th0ughts-pr4yers @bloody-delusion-expert

The week with Noah had flown by in a blur of pier dates, shopping sprees, late night movies, and even later nights between the sheets. It felt like less than seven days. He'd asked if I could make it to the rock festival kicking off the fall tour next week. I'd nearly forgotten about it. I told him I wasn't sure about my work schedule, which wasn't a total lie.

Back at the office grind, the magical week with Noah seemed like a distant memory. I'd completely forgotten to check if I could get the time off for the festival. I was just clocking out for lunch when my phone buzzed with a new text. It was from Chris. He'd sent a screenshot of a ticket QR code for the festival. Underneath was a simple message that sent my anxiety spiraling:

See you there.

Oh god, this could be a disaster. I feel my heart start to race as I realize Noah and Chris will both be at the festival. How can I face them together? Noah will be crushed if he finds out Chris was the one I slept with right before we started dating. Am I even dating him? He never asked, just seemed implied. He'll think I'm just some groupie, trying to hook up with every metal singer I can.

My hands are shaking and my stomach is in knots.

I texted him back in a panic, scrambling to come up with an excuse to get out of going to the festival. I told him I wasn't sure I could afford the ticket now, what with everything else going on. It was a lame excuse, I know, but I was desperate.

"You're VIP, don't argue with me. I'll see you there," he wrote back firmly. He wasn't having any of my hedging. I could tell he really wanted me to be there, but I just couldn't do it.

The festival is tomorrow. How am I supposed to come clean before then? Is it even worth going at this point? I should just tell them now rather than drop this bomb when I see them there. My mind is spinning, trying to justify delaying this conversation.

I found myself wandering aimlessly down the street to the nearby park, escaping from my office for a few minutes. Sitting on the cool metal bench, I pulled up their numbers and started a group text. It's easier to explain things to both of them at once rather than dragging it out one-on-one. If I tried to type this all out twice, I know I wouldn't be able to do it.

"Boys," I began, my hands shaking, "I'm sorry I haven't been fully honest with you two. But to be fair, neither of you clearly defined what we were to each other. I don't know what it means that I've been with you both—are we just friends with benefits? Was I dating one of you? Both of you? I'm so confused. Before I see you at the festival tomorrow and this all blows up, we need to get this out in the open."

My heart pounds as I hit send on the nonsensical text. The minutes of my lunch break tick by, yet my phone remains silent. I stare at the screen, willing a response to appear. Nothing.

Now I'm back at my desk, panic swirling in my gut. What was I thinking, sending something so random? The silence is deafening.

I can barely focus, rereading our thread over and over. My pulse races and my throat tightens. What if I scared them away for good this time? Or made them think I'm unhinged?

Tapping away at my phone as we taxi down the runway, I feel a knot in my stomach when her name and an unknown number pops up on the screen. I don't recognize the number, but the area code says Los Angeles. Reading the cryptic words over and over, I realize I have no clue what to say. Glancing at Rick dozing peacefully in the seat beside me, I envy his relaxed flying mentality. Airplanes make me uneasy, though it's not really a fear thing. I just don't like the lack of control when we're thousands of feet in the air. Rick calls it my need for control.

The second we landed in Denver, my stomach twisted. My mind raced as we made our way through the terminal. Should I try to see her while we're here? Could I somehow explain everything face-to-face? That might be better than a text or call. Oh man, what would I even say? "Hey, remember that passionate night we shared? Well, I'm still crazy about you..." Yeah, no way. I'm in way over my head here.

My fingers fly across the keyboard, responding before my brain has time to catch up. "Whoa, wait, let's rewind. First things first - who else are we talking about here?"

It's barely past four, and I'm sure she's already off work - she always leaves early on Thursdays. I watch the three dots bouncing at the bottom of my screen, eyes glued, wondering how complicated this story she's typing could possibly be.

Her text pings through, and it takes me a solid minute to parse it all.

"Okay, Cliff Notes version: I met you both at your concerts. Noah - Chris and I hooked up after his show and have been flirty since. Chris - I visited Noah in LA and we obviously got physical, if you know what I mean."

I read her words again, slowly, trying to fit the pieces together in my head. I've never been great at puzzling things out on my own - I do better thinking out loud.

"Noah...concert...Los Angeles," I murmur, voice echoing my thoughts.

"What about Bad Omens?" Vin interjects, tuning into my words.

"Huh?" I reply, confused.

"Noah, LA, concert - Bad Omens, right?" As he says it, the lightbulb clicks on. Noah Sebastian. Noah Sebastian!

My fingers are flying across the keyboard again. “Noah, like Bad Omens, Noah Sebastian. That Noah?” 

The unknown number is responding. 

“Yeah, and who are you?” another three dots and he’s texting again. 

“Chris Cerulli.” I type out my name as if it matters. I never use my last name, but i’ve met Noah before, we sat next to each other in several interviews on shiprocked. 

“Motionless? Oh shit.” 

I'm at a loss for words. Bad Omens is set to play at the festival the day after tomorrow, so there's no question Noah's already here in Denver or he's about to fly in. I'm trying to compartmentalize the whirlwind in my mind, desperate to make some sense of it all. I've hooked up with girls without attachments or commitments before - I'm sure Noah's done the same. To be honest, I hadn't considered anything too serious between us. I was enjoying the casual vibe we had going on. But now, knowing she might be with someone else...could I really do that? Could Noah? I don't know.

I type away to the chat, taking a breath and holding it as I see my words plastered out to the void. “But you’re still coming to the festival, right?”

I slump down in this too-small chair at LAX, ball cap pulled low and sunglasses hiding my eyes. I'm trying to disappear - don't want anyone recognizing me. I'm also trying to hide the fact that I'm royally pissed off. Can't put my finger on who I'm mad at though. Her, for hooking up with him?  Myself, for just assuming we were exclusive without ever saying it outright? Both seem likely. I know I can't hold her past against her, but damn, running into her ex on set tomorrow is gonna sting like hell. This waiting around, with nowhere to put all this frustrated energy - it's killing me. I need to hit the gym or something, get this poison out of my system. 

They announce our flight is boarding, I rise from my seat and keep my eyes averted, anxiously spinning my phone between my hands before briefly presenting the digital boarding pass on the screen to the attendant. She offers me a polite smile, but I'm too preoccupied to return the gesture. When we locate our assigned seats, I take the window spot, absentmindedly watching the ground crew below load the luggage onto the rotating conveyor belt leading to the plane's cargo hold. I spot my battered old suitcase passing by, along with the band's instruments and the rest of our haphazardly packed carry-ons. We could have easily driven to our destination, but Matt insisted that flying would be faster.

As I sit here on this plane, my mind races with thoughts of her. How can I possibly end things when every fiber of my being screams to stay? We aren’'t exclusive, I could walk away without a glance back. But she's burrowed deep under my skin, and try as I might, I can't shake her. Never before have I wavered when it came to matters of the heart. Cross me and you're gone. Disappoint me and I won't think twice. I trust my gut and never look back. But she's different. With her, I'm plagued by indecision and self-doubt. I'm a Scorpio to the core - intense, all or nothing. Once I've crossed that bridge, I burn it down in flames. But with her, I find myself lingering on the edges, unable to take that final step. She's awakened something in me I don't recognize. A vulnerability I've never known. A connection I'm not ready to sever.

My phone is in airplane mode but I can't help staring at the texts on the screen, as if somehow they will change my mind or provide the answers I'm desperately seeking. I know it's fruitless, just words on a muted screen, but I read them over and over, having already committed every word to memory. With a sigh, I finally close out and sit back, trying in vain to relax in the cramped airline seat before I inevitably reopen our conversation.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Captain Manning," the pilot's voice stirs the sleepy passengers as we touch down in Denver. "On behalf of all our staff and United Airlines, we welcome you to Denver, Colorado." The cabin erupts in a shuffle of activity as passengers hastily gather their belongings, eager to deplane. I hesitantly switch off airplane mode and wait as my phone explodes with a barrage of emails and notifications before the message I've been anxiously anticipating finally comes through. My heart pounds as I open it, knowing those few words will determine my mood and mindset when I step off this plane into the next phase of my journey, for better or worse.

Motionless' text message lands in my inbox and I hesitate before opening it, wary that its contents might ignite an argument or stir unwelcome pity - both options I'd rather avoid. His text is brief and to the point: "Can you meet me at the Embassy tonight?" I glance across the aisle at Matt and Folio, already busily packing their bags, eager to exit the plane and head straight for our rooms at the Mariott.

I know I should wait until I'm settled at the hotel before responding, take time to think it over and discuss meeting up with Matt first. But instead, on impulse, I type back a quick "yes" before I can overthink or talk myself out of it.

Motionless and I have a complicated history of passion for our music and some unspoken rivalry between our fans, i’m not really sure where that rumor got started. While part of me wants to avoid potential conflict, another part is drawn like a moth to flame, curious to see what might transpire when we come together again. I click send on the text, sealing my fate. Now all that's left is to wait and wonder what the night will bring.

Stepping out of the shower, I'm barely dry before my phone pings. Noah's been radio silent all day while Chris has come out of left field and downright. Their thoughts have been impossible to read. My screen lights up with a text - they've agreed to meet at the Embassy downtown where Chris is staying.

I get dressed with a heavy heart, bracing myself for the inevitable end. This is it, I just know it. I'm not ready to say goodbye, but ripping off the bandaid is better than prolonging the pain. It's like being a kid dragged to the dentist for a tooth extraction before the promised ice cream cone after. You want the sweet reward, just not the agony that comes before it. Tonight it will all be over, and although my heart is not prepared, my head knows it's time to face the music.

I drive in silence, my nerves making the quiet even more deafening. Parking with the valet, I step inside the lavish hotel lobby on shaky legs. The elevators require a keycard for the upper floors, so I awkwardly text that I've arrived. Neither comes down to get me, instead sending a hotel employee to escort me up. The ride is excruciating - me avoiding eye contact while the man stands too close. I knock on their door, praying no one else is in the hall to witness my humiliation.

My heart pounds as Chris answers the door, his blonde hair cascading past his ears, dressed casually in a gray hoodie and adidas pants. I catch a glimpse of Noah sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, hands clasped together, staring at me intently. My stomach lurches and I want to bolt - I can't go through with this.

Chris gently grasps my arm just above the elbow, guiding me into the hotel room. He leads me to the end of the couch, sitting me down a few spaces from Noah. I can't bring myself to look at either of them, consumed by shame, the tension suffocating.

Chris moves the coffee table out a bit before perching on it directly in front of me, just an arm's length from Noah. We sit in excruciating silence before I finally blurt out, "There isn't much else to say."

“I think there is a lot to say,” Chris said “I mean i’ve been bouncing around with it a lot, i’m on the fence, but I am cool to keep things casual between us.” I blinked at Chris, trying to hide my disappointment as he rambled on with that wishy-washy response. His leg bounced nervously and he kept fidgeting with his hands, like he couldn't get comfortable saying it out loud. I knew he wasn't totally sold on the whole "casual" thing between us, but I wasn't about to beg him for more of a commitment.

My eyes slid over to Noah, who was intently focused on his own fingers as he twisted them around each other. "And you?" I asked hesitantly, bracing myself for a similar non-committal answer.

"Casual. Casual works," he mumbled, still not looking up. I wanted to scream in frustration. Chris could at least pretend to be enthusiastic about keeping things casual, but Noah sounded about as interested in me as a lump of clay. This whole conversation was not going how I had hoped at all. I shifted awkwardly, already planning my escape from this uncomfortable situation.

My blood boils as the words spew from my mouth. "Could someone please offer me something other than half-assed phrases they think I wanna hear?" Chris's mouth gapes open and closed like a fish out of water, unable to form a response. Noah slaps his knees and stands abruptly from the couch.

"We're both going on tour, that's two maybe three months we'll be busy traveling. Let's just text, keep in touch as friends. If we want a hookup we'll call," he says matter-of-factly.

I see red. "Do I get the same grace? If you want to fuck me, a phone call is all it takes? What about me, do I just have to call? I won't have this one-sided bullshit." My heart hammers in my chest as I stare them down, daring them to argue. The tension in the room is palpable and I'm ready to explode. 

My eyes darted between Chris and Noah as the tension in the room became palpable. Chris's calm demeanor never wavered as he promised, "Whatever you want, I'm there. Or I'll fly to you. The minute I know it won't work, I'll tell you - I'll be completely transparent."

I couldn't resist embracing him in gratitude, whispering a heartfelt "thank you" in his ear. As I stepped back, I noticed Noah staring at the floor, hands buried in his hoodie pockets. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine, jaw twitching, dark eyes peering at me through long lashes.

"And you?" I asked gently.

I hold my breath as he moves toward me, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. In an instant his hands are at my waist, yanking me against his hard body as his mouth claims mine in a searing kiss that steals my ability to think. I cling to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with everything I have. I want this man, all of him, and I desperately hope this isn't the end for us.

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #Chris Motionless fic #Chris Motionless smut #ricky olson smut #ricky olson fic #miw band #miw #chris motionless #chrismotionlessfanfic #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white smut #polyverse

[corvidpaws]

🪻🦋 GENESIS. 🔮📋

kirby oc tournament entry.

“Lucky is she, who lives unaware, who doesn’t get bothered by all that’s unfair…”

PERSONALITY.

Genesis is a kind, caring figure haunted by a past only they remember- and it doesn’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things, anyway. They have taken on the role of a therapist, and their personality generally fits the stereotypical view of a therapist. Of course, they aren’t without their flaws- often trying too hard to reach a goal or blaming everything on themselves.

BACKSTORY.

Genesis is from the Forgotten Land. Or, as the residents prefer to call it, the New World.

Their origins are mostly hidden. I mean, you don’t really want to tell people that- well. I’m not going to tell you their secrets. That’s just rude. They’ll tell you when they’re ready.

Hopefully.

All I can tell you is that they have a strange connection to Fecto Forgo.

Oh, well, I’ll tell you a bit more.

Let’s see… I’m sure it was written down somewhere around here.

“Since it’s capture, ID-F85 has only shown activity once- it’s brain patterns seem to suggest that it is dreaming. But that is a fanciful observation, and we are not fanciful people. A monster cannot dream.” — Retired Lab Discovera Tour, Year Unknown

The creature known as Fecto Elfilis had split into two- Fecto Forgo and Elfilin. The Ancients had long abandoned the planet, taking off to Shiver Star. Imprisoned, alone, unable to move and lost in a world without any creatures capable of thought- yet, they drifted. They dreamed. And in their dreams surfaced memories.

A land of dust and fire. A trickster magician.

A world of flora. A sorrowful spindler.

And their own great form, lost to the cruel experiments of the people who lived here, so desperate to leave.

From those dreams, came Genesis. A creation of stardust and love. They wandered throughout the abandoned land, watching as the beasts gained intelligence, and talking with them. When trapped in a collapsing tunnel, they met Elfilin, who saved them. The two then became friends.

They also met Gamma Knight, who landed in the forgotten land after [REDACTED]. Genesis helped them flee to [REDACTED].

When the Beast Pack was formed, Genesis stayed out of the way, recognising the work of their progenitor. But when Elfilin was captured, they followed Kirby from a distance, leaving behind Maxim Tomatoes and vanishing without a trace.

When Elfilis was defeated, Elfilin and Genesis reunited, and the former took the latter to Dreamland, where they both settled.

And they decided to settle on a rather successful career.

It had been a solid five hours since Kirby had started telling Genesis about the 'monsters' they'd fought, with Dedede and Meta Knight himself chipping in when needed; sometimes to explain their actions while the puffball had been defeating the newest threat to Popstar, sometimes to correct him or add a detail. But instead of getting frustrated or tired, Genesis had only listened politely, nodding as they talked. […] "Those monsters you fought... I'd be terrified, honestly. But you've survived all of it, and you're still here, ready to face the next battle, and that means you're exceptionally resilient. But life isn't all about battles." Genesis continued. "It's pretty late, so I'll end the session here, but think about it. Come back if you need to." — Chapter Two, Session One, These Creatures I’ve Seen

Well, that wasn’t a bit more, that was a lot more. But there are still some mysteries. Will you uncover them? Let’s find out.

OTHER.

Themes:

The Dream Discoveries Tour Juliet - Cavetown Blow My Brains Out - Tikkle Me Gilded Lily - Cults Meteor Shower - Cavetown Treehouse - Alex G

Toyhou.se Page: https://toyhou.se/22030569.genesis Ginjka Design: Here

“Unlucky me, who knows way too much, and fights to make changes through music and such, unlucky me, aware of the pain, all ‘cause I happen to have some brain…”

@kirbyoctournament sorry about the lore dump! It will happen again

#genesis #kirby #kirby oc #kirby oc tournament #lore #oc lore #kirby oc lore #kirby and the forgotten land spoilers #for the banners lol #so excited for this!! did a poll in a discord server and the result was a resounding yes #so here i am #let’s see how this goes

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in a Family Dinner

Summary - Part 58 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess, Sam x Eileen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Sorry about the extended break, I ended up needing the week to recover from the trip and meeting J2 (the best weekend of my life FYI). If you ever get lucky enough to get the opportunity to go to a SPN convention, it’s definitely worth it. I loved every minute! But anyway, back to the story at hand…In my mind, the last chapter was gonna be the last one and then this week would be the epilogue. However, I love a good cliffhanger so I couldn’t resist. Looks like we get one more chapter with this lovely couple that I love so much.

While Dean finishes delivering the food to the table you go downstairs with Destiny to get the door. You discreetly check through the peephole in the door before nodding to your little girl and letting her twist the handle. You step back as she pulls the door open. 

“Hi, Uncle Sammy!” She says as she runs over to hug his leg.

He kneels down to her height and pulls her into a tight hug. “Hey Kiddo. You gonna give me a tour of your new home?”

Despite having seen the house when he helped move a few of your larger furnishings over, he hasn’t seen the full house in all its glory. Destiny nods enthusiastically and pulls away, but not before grabbing his hand to lead him upstairs. Sam smiles at you and nods in greeting as he’s pulled past you. You smile back as they disappear up the stairs before turning and locking the door.

Once you get back upstairs, Destiny is showing Sam her room, so you go out to the patio where Dean’s leaning on the railing looking out over the dark forest. You quietly sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He stiffens for a brief second before placing his hands over yours on his stomach. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

“You feel tense, what’s on your mind?”

Dean spins around in your arms so he can wrap his arms around you and look you in the eyes. “Just a lot of changes at once.”

“You regret it?”

He shakes his head and kisses you softly. “Just adjusting. I am gonna miss the adrenaline of a good hunt. But, I’m where I want to be.”

“Once Sam and Eileen get their operation on its feet you’ll get to help them out. And it’s not like you’ll never hunt again. I’m sure the monsters won’t leave us alone forever. I just need you to come home safe. No more dying and being resurrected all the time. This family needs you. So, we just won’t seek it out. Plus, I’m sure we can find other ways for you to burn off your energy and get an adrenaline rush.”

“Yeah? Like?” Dean raises an eyebrow at you as he lets one of his hands wander over your ass cheek and squeezes lightly.

“Hey! You have company! We eating or what?” You hear Sam tease from the doorway.

“We were just waiting for you slowpoke,” Dean jeers back. He kisses you quickly before leading you over to the table and pulling out a chair for you. You smile at him gratefully as you sit down. He takes a seat beside you as Sam and Destiny sit on the opposite side of the table. 

“Nice place you guys got here. I’m really happy for you. You both deserve to get out and get a taste of normal,” Sam says as he fills his plate.

“Thanks, Sam. We’re still raising a little wolf, so I don’t know how normal it is,” you say as you smile at Destiny as she bites into her rare steak. “But we’re happy and it’s progress. We wish you all the best for you and Eileen’s venture too. We’re here, whatever you need.”

“Thanks. We’re still working out all the details. That’s actually why she couldn’t come tonight, she’s meeting with some other hunters with Bobby. We want to make the Men of Letters Bunker back into what it once was; a hub of activity and a safe home base for others who grew up like us.”

“You’re gonna be a great leader, Sammy. If you ever need a soldier…” Dean adds with his mouthful, “But you have to promise that none of you hunter buddies, or hunters in training will know about or come after our little monster here. Whatever happens, we will handle it ourselves, as a family.” Dean gives you a stern look to make sure you understand his threat and agree.

You nod before giving Destiny a reassuring smile. Sam nods too. “If you’re still planning to go ahead with that appointment in a few weeks, then I guess this is the only niece I’m gonna get. So, I won’t let anything bad happen to her. You have my word. Family comes first, you taught me that. And family don’t end in blood.”

A comfortable quiet falls over the table as you all eat in peace, having got the few concerns out in the open.

Once you’re all finished eating, Sam helps Dean in the kitchen so they can talk alone while you get Destiny washed up and tucked into bed. Despite her desperate pleas to stay up with you guys, you stay firm by bedtime. Werewolf or not, she’s a child and you plan to raise her as such. You kiss her forehead and switch on the nightlight by her bed before switching off the overhead light and closing the door. 

Back in the living room, Sam and Dean finish up cleaning the kitchen just as you come back to join them. Dean pulls you into his embrace the second you're close enough and kisses the top of your head. “She go down easy?”

“Nope, definitely tried her best debate skills. But it’s been a big day and she’s tired, it won’t take long.”

“Well, I’ll let you guys relax from your big day. Thanks for dinner,” Sam says.

“Anytime,” you say.

“Call first,” Dean adds as a warning.

“Of course. Have a good night guys, we’ll be in touch I’m sure.”

“You too, Sam. Try not to get too lonely in that big Bunker alone,” you say.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

You and Dean walk him to the door and wait until his car disappears into the darkness before retreating back inside and locking the door behind you.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” Dean says with his arm wrapped around your waist as he leads you back upstairs.

“Let’s take a bath first,” you counter.

Dean raises his eyebrow, “Or…We could try out the hot tub?”

“Sounds good to me.” You lean up to peck his cheek.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A/N: Another shorter one to end us off. Let me know if you want an epilogue next week. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. 

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78, @canyouimaginethatstory, @mrlonelycat, @roseblue373, @staley83

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

[hockeylovee12]

Chapter Two

Aftermath-Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke Hughes knows he has some explaining to do to his family about his recent trip and normally that would be all that’s on his mind but unfortunately for him there’s something or I should say someone else occupying his mind.

Warnings: family fights, mentions of drinking, swearing, implied sexual activity

A/N this is the second chapter for this story I wrote this in one day because inspiration struck lol. I don’t typically go through and edit my stories just because if I did I’d never post them so I’m sorta an impulsive writer. I really hope you enjoyed and while this chapter does go hand in hand with a whole story I still write one shots if any one has any requests and there are more parts to this story. Ik it didn’t really talk about Izzie that much but I wanted to give an insight into Lukes life a little more and I also enjoyed writing some of the brotherly bonding stuff. feel free to ask me any requests or start a conversation with me! And I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

June 9th 2022 7:00 PM

It was a long six hour flight home to Michigan and when Luke Hughes arrived at the Detroit airport he knew his family would be waiting there wanting answers.

Unfortunately the boys who are his best friends were not the smartest and word got out the trip the boys had planned to go to California was actually a trip to go to Mexico. Once the news was out it wasn’t long before every boys families had started calling and texting to no reply.

The five boys knew they would have to face the music eventually and safe to say none of them were thrilled by the idea of having consequences for their actions.

Shortly after landing at the airport and grabbing their bags the boys found all their families who were not extremely pleased by their return.

Luke’s parents were no exception.

The family of 5 made their way to the parking lot silently.

Luke placed his bags in the trunk of his dads car and sat in the backseat with his brothers on both sides of him.

It was a silent 30 minute drive back to the families home and when the car was finally in park his father turned around and disappointingly shook his head at his youngest child.

Normally Luke would be feeling very remorseful and anxious about the disappointment he has caused his family but his mind was still racing trying to relieve the past 24 hours with Izzie, the beach, the kisses, the ocean.

“Luke let’s go” A voice breaks Luke’s thought

Luke looks over and sees his brother Jack standing outside the car waiting for him to exit

Luke exits the car and Jack harshly closes the door.

The family enters there house and Luke places his bags on the floor by the door leaving him holding only his phone.

The silence from the car ride continues inside the house as no one says a word and everyone just makes there way towards the living room and takes a seat.

“What the hell?” Is the first thing said by Luke’s older brother Jack

“Ok look I get it it probably wasn’t the best idea to go to Mexico and I’m sorry I lied but like nothing happened and we had a great time” Luke defends himself

“Nothing happened you and your friends left the country without telling an adult! What if something had happened what if one of you had gotten in an accident or went missing we would be looking in California for goodness sake!” Ellen Hughes exclaims at her youngest son

“I mean we’re adults” Luke says in a monotone voice

“You know what your mother means you didn’t tell a parent” Jim Hughes intervenes

“Look I said I’m sorry I don’t know what else you want me to say” Luke says

“We want you to understand that what you did was wrong and that it should’ve never happened in the first place” Ellen says calmly

“Alright sorry it won’t happen again” Luke says with a slight eye roll which earns him a smack upside the head from Quinn who’s sitting next to him

“You’re grounded for a week and when we go up to the lake you’re not allowed to go wandering off on your own without another person with you” Jim Hughes sentences

Luke scoffs at this. He thinks it’s fucking ridiculous he’s 18 years old, he just finished his freshman year at college and he’s being treated like he’s a fucking child. It wasn’t the grounding that was pissing him off so much as it was the thought of having a babysitter. Lukes been able to go off on his own at the lake since he was 14 years old no worries whatsoever which isn’t completely true his parents and brothers always worried a little bit seeing as he is the baby of the family but Luke always stayed relatively close and always kept his phone on him.

“No that’s bullshit!” Luke shouts standing up

“Did you really think you could just go to Mexico without telling anyone and not have any consequences?” Quinn who has stayed silent this entire time finally speaks

“I’m 18 years old I’m not some child you can order around anymore and I certainly don’t need a fucking babysitter”

“Clearly you do if you’re off running around in Mexico why the hell did you even go to Mexico if you wanted the beach there are plenty of ones here! In America!” Jack shouts standing up as well

“Luke! Sit down.” His dad says

Luke rolls his eyes again feeling nothing but anger building up at the way this conversation has gone. Luke shakes his head in disbelief and scoffs before grabbing his phone that was sitting on the couch and walking towards the front door.

He leaves the house slamming the front door and leaving the people inside both shocked and angry by his actions.

Luke starts walking away from his house and onto the dark pavement lit up only by street lights.

After about 15 minutes of walking Luke reaches his neighborhood park. He sits down on a bench and tilts his head back looking up at the night sky.

There were few stars up in the sky but Luke still enjoyed the view although he preferred the view from last night.

Luke starts to think back to the bar and dancing with Izzie. His hands around her waist hers on his neck. Her lips touching his. Within seconds his own lips turned from a resting frown that had been present since the car ride into a smile.

Luke pulled out his phone and goes to Instagram. He tries every combination of Izzie he could think of unaware of the spelling of her name but with the thousands of results and no way to narrow it down Luke quickly gives up.

The frown which had since disappeared was now back and became even more distraught as he noticed two figures walking towards him.

Once the figures came closer to Luke he noticed who it was.

“Dude let’s go” Jack says walking closer to Luke

Luke just looks at Quinn who’s displaying no emotional reaction. Luke starts to wonder if it’s because he’s tired or because he’s pissed or possibly both.

Luke thoughts get interrupt when he feels a hand on his bicep

He looks over and sees Jack gripping his arm and urging him to stand up

Luke shakes his head and stands up then the trio of brothers start the 15 or so walk back towards their house.

Once the park was in an unseeable position the silence that Luke has gotten oh so familiar with today is broken.

“Did you have fun on your trip?” Jack asks with a sympathetic such smile

“Ya I had a great time we went to Rocky Point and it was fun it was really fun” Luke says matching the slight smile appearing on his brothers face

“What did you guys do?” Jack continues the conversation

“Um I mean we did a lot of things we spent a lot of time at the beach, we went to a couple of bars and clubs at night, there was one day where we went jet skiing that was super fun” Luke explains not sure if mentioning the bars and clubs was a smart decision but chooses not to overthink it.

“Did you fall off the jetski?” Quinn asks with a laugh remembering a more recent time when Luke had been on the back of a jetski with Jack driving and despite being told multiple times to hold on when Jack hit the gas Luke went flying off into the lake and at first the whole family was worried out of their mind but when Luke rose his soaked face and hair out of the water and stuck up a middle finger towards Jack they all laughed.

“No I didn’t fall off mainly because Jack wasn’t driving” Luke responds giving a little nudge to Quinn who smiled towards both his little brothers after an exchange of smiles and laughs between the trio Quinn’s demeanor quickly changed to a more serious look

“you know Luke I’m really happy you had a good time but you know it just it would’ve been nice to know where you were going mom and dad were freaking out a bit when your friends mom called and said you guys didn’t go to California they were really worried something could’ve happened to you and when you wouldn’t respond to anyone they really love you kid and we do to and we don’t know what any of us would’ve done if something did happen to you” Quinn explains to his youngest brother

For the first time today Luke starts to feel a little bit remorseful about what he’s done and realizes his family although they can be annoying sometimes they really love him and he regrets worrying them so much.

“I’m sorry I worried you guys and you’re right I should’ve told someone or at the very least text or call you guys back I’m really sorry” Luke says

“Just don’t do again or otherwise I’ll have to kill you which would really suck because that would mean we wasted our 4th pick and I think it’s gonna be really fun when you and I get to win on the ice against Quinn” Jack laughs

“Don’t jinx it or tomorrow’s headlines gonna be that I got traded before I even sign a contract” Luke responds

“Hopefully that won’t happen” Jack adds crossing his fingers

“Oh god the two of you on the same team and living together I don’t know who I’m gonna feel worse for one of you or the state of New Jersey” Quinn jokes

Jack reaches over and gives Quinn a playful shove causing all three brothers to smile again the next few minutes the brothers spent laying and teasing one another until they arrived back at the families home.

Jack was the first to step in followed by Luke who had no way of escaping again since Quinn was blocking the exit with his own body.

Once all three boys were inside the door closed shut and Quinn turned around and locked the door making it official that everyone was now home for the night.

“Where are mom and dad?” Luke asks

“They’re in their room” Quinn answers and Luke sighs and starts walking in the direction of the master bedroom.

Knock knock

“Come in” Luke’s mom answers

Luke walks in and sees his mom putting her jewelry away and his dad sitting in a chair in the corner with a book cracked open

“Hey I just wanted to tell you guys I’m sorry I’m sure I worried you guys alot and it was really a shitty thing for me to do and not answering your calls or text was stupid and I shouldn’t have lied about where I was going I know you guys were already nervous about me going to California and it was a really selfish thing for me to do and I’m really sorry” Luke apologizes this time meaning it

Both of his parents smile and his dad puts down the book and gives his youngest son a hug his mom walks over and does the same.

Luke spends the next few minutes talking to his parents and telling them some of the fun parts of his trip well making sure to only include the family friendly parts which do not include his beverage or entertainment choices however does include a mention of riding the jet ski which his parents took as an opportunity to tease him about when he fell off.

After a few more laughs Luke chose to apologize once more for the worried he had caused them and they reassured him that he was forgiven with a pat on the back from his father and a kiss on the cheek from his mother the family says their good nights and then the 18 year old left their room to go to his own.

As he walks towards the stairs he sees his bags still sitting there and rather than bringing them up right now he decides later is better and by that he means sometime tomorrow starting to feel a little tired himself.

Luke walks to his room and shuts the door then feels in his pocket for his phone and goes on Instagram.

He notices a few of his recommendations to follows are random girls named Izzie with alternating spellings.

He shakes his head with a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jack asks appearing in the open doorway

“Eh nothing” Luke shakes off still smiling

Jack starts walking closer to Luke and soon Quinn appears in the room.

Jack takes a look at Luke’s screen which he was doing nothing in response to hide as he didn’t really care about the contents being public at least not to his brothers

“Why do you follow so many girls named Izzie?” Jack asks with a confused look

“I don’t follow them I was just looking for the Instagram of some girl I met but it’s kinda impossible considering all I know is her first name and I don’t even know how she spells it” Luke explains with a shrug

“Did you just meet her this week?” Quinn asks stepping into the room and the conversation

“Ya I met her last night” Luke says

“Funny how when you were telling us about your trip you left this part out” Jack jokes then takes a seat on Lukes bed

“So tell us what happened” Jack encourages

“What?” Luke asks as he watches Quinn take a seat next to Jack

“Come on you never tell us anything!” Jack claims

“I’m not gonna tell you guys what happened it’s private” Luke says

“Fine but we’re not leaving till you tell us about Izzie at least tell us where you met her or what she looks like” Jack says lying back on Lukes bed and getting comfortable

“You are so annoying” Luke shakes his head then walks over to his desk chair and takes a seat

“I met her at a bar it was like a beachside type thing it was like I don’t know 10 or something but I was drinking a beer and then I decided to take a shot of vodka and obviously vodka tastes disgusting so I made a face and she was standing next to me and starts talking about how it’s a mentality and that way the shots don’t taste so bad and we took a couple of shots together and then we danced together and we made out a few times in the bar and then we ended up leaving and we walked down to the beach and uh we had a good night” Luke recalls starting to blush a little near the end

“I’m going to assume had a good night means you walked her home and then went back to your room alone” Quinn says starting to get up

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night then that’s exactly what happened” Luke answers

“It does” Quinn says with a laugh then says goodnight and proceeds to head to his own room.

“I’m out too but I’m proud and relieved to know you at least have a little bit of game” Jack jokes giving Luke a playful punch to the shoulder which Luke returns and adds a mocking laugh

“Goodnight” Jack says as he walks out the door

“Goodnight” Luke responds

#luke hughes #umich hockey #hughes brothers #jack hughes #quinn hughes #feel free to interact #umich boys #original story #brothers #hughes family #hope you guys enjoy

[haziel-luz]

His Priority {Donnie x Reader}

(Let's confront Donnie 😉)

Chapter 3: Figure It Out

Having Chinese take-out is something you don’t regret getting. You want to get rid of the taste of your date night's dinner. Was that petty? You didn’t give a damn if it was. Your night was already ruined, so why not replace it with this. Spending the night with the best chicken, fried rice, and a side of egg rolls. Let’s not forget the fortune cookies.

To up the ante, you decided to put on various movies to your mood. Your sour mood brought you to the horror movie section. These movies were a way of releasing your anger without doing violence yourself. You’d cheer for the villain instead of the victims, and yes it’s a little wild to think this way, but you're not feeling hopeful at all.

The trip home was just sad, your tears wouldn’t stop streaming down your face on the way home. When you ordered delivery, you tried not to let the delivery person see your face. Your anger rises from your sadness when you unlock your phone and see a notification of Donnie. You blocked his number completely and just went about your own night. Without even knowing what message he sent, you didn’t need it.

This is the first time that your mind didn’t wander off to what Donnie was doing. Your entertainment and appetite really did wonders for your comfort. You're completely involved in your own activity that you didn’t even hear knocking from your room window. You did notice it when you had to pause for a bathroom break.

You groaned, you knew whose knock that was, and you were hoping it was Raph instead. Guess that message your bestie sent didn’t make it to his million brain cells. You wanted to ignore his knocking, but you heard him start to try opening the window. Standing up in irritation, you made your way to the window. Seeing the shadow behind the curtain already has your blood boiling. 

You snatched the curtain open and witnessed Donnie flinch while opening the window halfway through already. You stare at him through the glass, your eyebrows frowning and you're pretty sure you're glaring.

“I uh, got the message from Raph but I wanted you to know that nothing happened betw-” You stopped him from explaining by opening the window the rest of the way. Instead of inviting him in like you usually do, you went out through the window yourself. He took some steps back, shocked by your action.

“You were saying?” You crossed your arms and leaned against your window frame. Donnie readjusted himself and noticed your body language was the same, but this time you were tense with anger.

"Nothing happened between me and April today. Not even throughout this relationship, and I wanted to make that clear before things got out of hand." He clarifies calmly, hoping you would understand that he would never hurt you that way.

"I prefer you did cheat." You knew he was telling the truth but that couldn't take away your doubts.

"Wait, what?" He was perplexed by your statement.

"Yea, it would be better that you did cheat, than having to continuously wonder why you would put her first. There are other ways to hurt someone you love, and this was it, Donatello." Calling out his full name made him flinch. There's no going back now.

"I wasn't trying to put her first-"

"Then why did you lie your way to 'rescue' her?" You sarcastically arched two fingers to emphasize the rescue bullshit you put up with.

"That appears to be the number one question tonight." Donnie frowns at the repeated question.

"Well?!" You frustratingly asked, hating to wait for the response.

"I don't know! I don't understand why I did, and I'm sorry. I'm…I really am sorry." He looks like he's going through a series of emotions you haven't witnessed before. Not even when you were friends at the time. It's concerning how that question brought this reaction out of him.

"I think you need time to figure that question out. I refuse to continue this relationship like this. Even you don’t even understand why, and that will only get worse down the line.” You lay it out for him, knowing it’ll hurt him and not just him. You watch his face turn from confliction into immediate realization.

“W-wait, you don’t mean breaking up…do you?” His words were slowly breaking and it broke you a little. You see his tears building up and you try to look away from him. You rarely ever see him cry, and you want to pretend that he isn’t. 

“That’s what needs to happen. Just figure yourself out, and as for now, we can just focus on our own things.” Not wanting to handle another second of this, you turn around and make your way to the window. “It’s best if you leave now.” You climb back inside your room without another word. This was hurting you more than you realized. Never in your years of knowing him would you dare break up with him. Looks like the impossible outcomes can become a reality, unexpectedly so.

Closing the window and curtain behind you, the tension left your body, not from relief but from the amount of sadness you were holding in. You dragged yourself back to your living room and let your tears run the moment you lay on the couch.

You had to break his heart so he wouldn’t keep breaking yours. It was a lose situation either way if you tried to give him another chance. This was the smart decision to make, but it was emotionally awful. You hope he doesn’t come back again, because you don’t know if you can handle another conversation like that. As you cry yourself to sleep you begin to wonder how long it will take for the pain to go away.

__________________

Morning came and you woke up on the sofa, guess you didn’t feel like moving to your bed. Not wanting to be around the same area you broke up with Donnie, hell you don’t think you would sleep there at all. You got up from the sofa with a groan, you really got to get a new couch.

Reaching down your phone, the time is 8:00 a.m, and you kind of want to sleep in. At the same time you wanted to get away from your home for a bit. You decided to shower and change your clothes to eat out for breakfast.

Once you finished getting ready, you packed your laptop and sketchbook, hoping to distract yourself during the day. Leaving your apartment, you sighed in relief when the nice cool breeze caressed your face the moment you stepped out. Shitty day yesterday, healing time today.

Walking around the busy streets of New York, you paid attention to your surroundings. Construction crews using their machines, women walking in a friend group gossiping, teenagers joking around, the smell of tempting food all over the place. This place can be chaotic at times, but when you let it grow on you, it can be a nice experience day by day.

Arriving at your favorite cafe, you instantly feel at home. The smell of coffee, donuts, and breakfast is so welcoming. It’s a small place and the best part is that it isn’t crowded. Most of the customers are busy bee’s, they just order their food and go.

As you order your breakfast, you notice someone familiar at the corner of your eye. The nice lady gives you the order and you thank her. Turning around, you see Casey sitting alone, looking down at his coffee. This surprises you, he didn’t come to this cafe before, or ever. He usually goes to the cafe April prefers, every time. You make your way towards him, but slowly. This intention might be for Donnies sake, so you take a deep breath and pray that it isn’t.

“Hey, Casey.” You greet him calmly, he flinches out of his thoughts and looks up. You noticed the bags under his eyes and frowned slightly. “You okay? This is the first time I see you here of all places.”

“Wha-oh.” He shook off his reaction and smiled. “Yea, it’s my first time here, didn’t know this was your territory.” You didn’t miss how he was forcing his smile to make conversation.

“More like a comfort place to me, I’ll leave you to your morning. Seems like you need it, and I recommend the croissant breakfast sandwich to get the whole experience.” You smiled back and slowly walked away but his hand reached out.

“Wait. Uh, mind having breakfast with a friend?” Casey almost pleaded, and even if you had plans for yourself, you knew something was wrong with him. He’s a good friend, and you both used to confide in each other a lot, well that was before him and April were a thing. Your friendship grew distant in a few weeks.

“Sure..” You sat across from him and got comfortable. It’s his first time here, yet you're getting the feeling he knew that you were going to this cafe. “Been a while since we had a chat.”

“Yea, sorry about that. I should’ve been contacted once in a while.” The first apology is genuine, so this isn’t to help Donnie. Good.

“Then how about we get straight to the point like old times, what’s happening to you?” You pointed under your eyes to point out the bags under his eyes. “Had a shitty night or something?”

“Well you can say that.” Casey chuckled humorlessly, and rubbed his stubble jaw. You patiently waited for him to continue, it seems like it’s hard for him to come up with how to say it. “I broke up with April last night.”

“What?” Your eyes were wide in shock. Casey broke up with April. The second biggest simp other than Donnie when it came to April. Well shit. The impossible can be possible after all. “You broke up with April O'Neil? What the hell happened?” He broke up with her the same time you broke up with Donnie. Is this a coincidence?

He readjusted himself to ready himself for this conversation. “She manages to leave every night to sneak around for material that she can report for her news article. I’ve always asked if I could tag along, only for her to reject my offer and reassure me that..someone else would be there for her.” This was a no brainer.

“You mean Donnie, right. It’s fine if you want to expose his name in this situation. I’m not too happy with him right now.” You roll your eyes and start eating your breakfast.

“Wait, so you know that he helps her every time she needs him?” Casey points out with a slight frown.

“Oh yea. Somehow she’s more of a priority than me. So just like you, I broke up with him. I deserve to be at the top of his list, but what do I get? Being dead last.” You sip on your coffee to calm yourself down. April is his ex-girlfriend, but you're trying your hardest not to bad mouth her.

“Exactly!” Casey blurted out and instantly flinched by how loud he was. Looking around, he apologized to everyone else while you giggled. You do miss interactions like this with him. So you have to take this opportunity to get serious with him about this topic.

“Have you ever wondered if maybe, they sparked feelings for each other while being in a relationship with us?” You cautiously asked him, as you're stirring your coffee with the straw. He turned his attention back to you, then looking down at his coffee, contemplating on what he’s gonna say next.

“I didn’t want to think about it, but for the past few weeks, I’ve seen her happier going out at night than staying in with me.” His words brought out a spike of sadness out of you. This conversation might have just brought your friendship close again. You reached out and placed your hand on top of his. Making eye contact with each other again, you knew that there's a lot of healing to be done here.

“Mind spending the day with a friend?” You reused the same question he asked you a couple minutes ago. 

He chuckles lightly and places his other hand over yours. “Sure.”

“Did you really come here not knowing that this is my usual cafe?” You slightly tilt your head and give him a suspicious look.

“Honestly, I knew. Raph suggested I go here if I needed a new area for coffee…and some company.” He confessed with an apologetic smile.

“Guess I should thank him for resurrecting this friendship.” You gave him a genuine smile for the first time, and retracted your hand. “How about we finish breakfast and hit the arcade for a bit.”

“Sounds like we’re becoming best friends already.” Casey’s mood got lighter, and his posture finally relaxed. Looks like we’re heartbroken partners in crime. Breaking our own hearts for our own sake and now on the road to heal ourselves together.

Not the ideal way to reunite your friendship, but you guess that this is for the better. No boyfriend, renewed friendship, and a journey to recover your heart. Maybe the day did start off well after all.

Yea…we’ll figure this out.

____________

Next => Chapter 4: Let Him Go

Previous <= Chapter 2: The One at Fault

#tmnt fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #donnie x reader #donnie tmnt #tmnt donatello #x reader

[leefi]

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere Read-through | Part 1: Chapters 1-14

Part 1: 1-14 | Part 2: 14-22 | Part 3: 22-34 | Part 4: 34-64 | Part 5: 64-80 | Part 6: 81-90 | Part 7: 90-100 | Part 8: 100-127 (caught up here)

Hi!!!! I've been reading through this webnovel after seeing @ot3's pitch for it and started writing down some thoughts on the characters and worldbuilding and imminent murdering. This story is very, very long and I only reacted up to about chapter 33, so most of my thoughts will involve the worldbuilding and less the murder mystery aspect -- so if you're looking for theorizing you won't find much of that here. Since I'll be continuing eventually, I wanted to post what I did make note of to revisit later!

Most of these are not marked by chapter/section because I was lazy and I'm not sure how easy it will be to follow as a result, but everything is chronological.

everyone here is hijabi mashallah

The visual I'm getting of the solar system/local system/dimension they inhabit is kind of a blend of steampunk and fantasy and uhh some secret third thing. With the walls of their "universe" painted in that puella dollhouse witch lair style. Does the sun bounce around like a screensaver. Does it orbit their earth or is it on a fixed axis flung out into “space”? Does “space” even exist anymore? I’m assuming they’re in an enclosed area that they've created. Do they actively use arcane resources to keep objects (ie star and planets) sustaining themselves, or have they made them self sufficient?

everyone is so mean to Ptolema leave her alone what the fuckk let a bimbo live i want to kill you all you’re so annoying. Ptolema I WOULD be your friend and not ask all these weird ass questions. and we would hold hands and skip and giggle

Yes shes an airhead nepo baby but you guys could try doing anything other than snickering and rolling your eyes whenever she says stupid shit. If she starts arguing back about government war crimes during the Revolution or something then you have my blessing to beat her ass!

I HATE kamsurepa i HATE her i HAYE Her and her stupid ass name

Ran and Su have no chemistry its insane that theyre always hanging out every conversation is like uhhh (awkward silence) (rude comment from Ran) *Su voice* wow she gets me so well. every time they talk im like what the fuck just happened.

Su’s internal narration is too self aware for me. it’s like she talks like she knows she’s a character? or something. it's self-deprecating in a very bizarre way

im sorry i don’t know if i can continue with this. i know too many med students irl and these characters are literally pissing me off. compliments to the author for realism you knocked it out of the park

Oh, thank you very much!" Kam said, reverting back to her smiley-diplomatic form for a moment before stepping away from the counter and continuing as she handed us the cards. "...as far as it seems to me, the desire to reproduce is essentially an immature form of pursuing life-extension - this idea that you'll 'live on through your children' that's patently pseudo-mysticism justifying what is ultimately an animal instinct." ⬇️ I’m going to grab her ginger head and swing her around like bowser in mario 64. SHUT UPPPPP SHUT UP please tell me shes the one that dies

You know," I mused idly, my eyes wandering. "I think this is actually the fourth glass ceiling I've seen today." "Mm, it's true that you don't see a lot of women working in Aetheromancy," ⬇️ I know this is a small nitpick but aren’t we really far into the future why do they keep using terms like this 😭 gendered stuff like this still exists billions? trillions? of years into the future?

Why has the disco elysium skill tree randomly started talking to su. Is this her future self nagging her. Is she pulling a han sooyoung. when do we get to the various utsushikome ego deaths

"prosognostic overlap"…do ppl repeat faces? Are most people cloned at this point? What triggered the need for cloning surely medicine is advanced enough that childbirth or test tube babies are feasible? Can bodies be cloned and reinhabited to inhibit aging? Is there some disturbing psychological element to seeing someone with the same face as you? Does it make your brain short circuit? Kam mentioned having children earlier which I assume means people still give birth or have test tube babies, so i don’t know if it’s the result of cloning…but it does sound like a sameface sort of thing. What else would it be if not that though?

Actually, if they’ve figured out teleportation (whatever it was called when they went up the aetherbridge) - let's say they can atomize a body and reforming it elsewhere (though we don't know for sure yet, could also be a fold in spacetime) - transferring consciousness to an empty clone of yourself (and therefore effectively doing away with aging or death wholesale) sounds a lot more efficient and technologically practical than maintaining an organic system that naturally decays. Why keep on finding ways to push the human body past its limits when you could simply transfer a person to a new, identical vessel?

I feel like the key to immortality isn’t maintaining an organic body, which naturally tends towards systems of entropy (being a biological thing, entropy=decay), but rather delineating and separating human consciousness from its host and replicating its original environment perfectly. I’m not talking about making a copy of consciousness, which is just glorified cloning - I’m talking about *transferring* a consciousness.

You could almost call dementia itself the mind's tendency towards its own kind of entropy?

Though if you transfer a consciousness to a younger body, the dementia issue could still potentially remain. Depends on if it the author sees it as a solely physical phenomena (atrophy/buildup of inhibitors of the brain) or there's some metaphysical anomaly about amassing too many memories/"existing" too long in general

The way spellwork is described is really cool and feels super believable. Optimizing multiple concurrent spells into one “function” is intricate and sophisticated, and you have to dedicate a lot of brainpower to doing the math in your head. It’s like they’re coding the real world. I love the way lurina describes this it's awesome.

#tftbn #woof #the flower that bloomed nowhere

[musical-shit-show]

hi, I love the way you write dewey finn so much!! may I request #18 from prompt list 2 and/or “you are terrible at this.” from prompt list 3 for him please?

close enough to touch

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: #18 (“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.”) from Prompt List 2 and #36 (“you are terrible at this.”) from Prompt List 3, requested by anon

Warnings: Awkward flirting, fluff

Word Count: 2,370

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, anon! I was really struggling with this one but I hope you like it! I’ve been meaning to write some post-School of Rock Dewey, and if people like this I wouldn’t mind doing another teacher!Reader one shot. So please let me know if this is something y’all like in the comments and reblogs! Also, check out my Masterlist, Prompt Lists, and About Me page, and submit an ask! It might take me a little bit longer with some requests but I promise to always make those my priority. I’m also working on my Beetlejuice series (to fill the void of course) so hopefully there will be more chapters of that coming soon. Thanks to everyone who’s supported my writing so far and enjoy!

“Don’t look now, but he’s staring at you again.”

“Who?”

“The music tutor.”

You decided to not look up from your coffee mug, the creamer you had just poured swirling slowly. It was the end of your second week at Horace Green, and Mrs. White had quickly taken you under her wing.

The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with activity, since the second Friday of every month meant free pastries from the local artisanal bakery. Apparently incentivizing the molders of young minds with sugar and fat never failed.

You placed an almond croissant on your plate, trying your best to stay discreet, “What’s his name again? Danny?”

Mrs. White laughed lightly, “Dewey,” she said with the smallest hint of disdain, “He’s the one I was telling you about last week. The one who impersonated a substitute last semester.”

Your jaw fell open slightly, and you decided to get another look of this guy. Turning from the spread of baked goods, your eyes wandered over to the other side of the room, where you saw the culprit averting his gaze from your direction.

He was, in a word, unkempt. His clothes were mismatched and ill-fitting; the button-down shirt hiding under his loud sweater vest was about half a size too large, and his dark jeans looked half a size too small. Most of the male teachers at Horace Green typically wore sport jackets and khakis, or at least a tie. Clearly Dewey didn’t get the memo.

His hair was also rumpled, dark brown and wavy and spurting in all different directions. You guessed he had rolled out of bed without running a brush through that mess, let alone even looked in the mirror.

You also noticed a significant amount of stubble growing on his round face, finishing off the whole scruffy vibe he had clearly committed to. He was almost…cute. His eyes were the same color as your coffee, deep brown with a touch of lightness.

“Not to state the obvious, but isn’t that a crime?” you murmured, trying to be discreet as you gossiped with your co-worker.

She answered with an eyeroll. “Of course it is,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. She took it black, two sugars. “But Rosalie—Ms. Mullins—decided to not press charges and hired him instead. Caused quite an uproar, but the students love him, so…”

You peered at him again curiously. Dewey was had just finished scribbling something in his notebook, breathing a heavy sigh as he slouched back into the plastic chair.

“I wouldn’t get involved if I were you,” Mrs. White warned, clearly noticing your interest in him, “From what I’ve heard, he’s nothing but trouble.”

You nodded. “Believe me,” you lied, “I know when to stay away.”

~oOo~

A sigh of relief left your chest the second the final bell rang at 3:15 that day. Teaching 10 and 11-year-olds how to structure essays all day really drained you, no matter how polite and well-behaved they were.

You gathered your belongings quickly and were walking briskly to your car when you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Dewey, and you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. He was carrying what looked like stacks of sheet music.

One misstep and he’d be picking up papers until sundown. 

“Uh, hi,” he said as he caught up to you, the cold January air making his breath visible. He attempted to extend his arm for a handshake, but retracted when the heaps of music in his one arm began to falter. “I’m uh, I’m Dewey. Or ‘Mr. Finn’ as the kids say, but you can call me Dewey.”

Looking at him more closely, you decided he was even cuter than you first thought. With Mrs. White’s warning ringing in your ear, a part of you wanted to turn the other way, tell him you were in a hurry to get home, make up some excuse to not get involved.

But it was clear he was interested in you, and you’d be lying if you weren’t at least a little intrigued. And besides, it’d be rude to not at least introduce yourself, right?

“Hi, Dewey,” you parroted, giving him another once over. “I see you already know my name.” He was already flushed from the cold, but his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right, well, I got it from the staff directory. Just…wanted to introduce myself. I teach the kids music after school most days.”

“I know who you are,” the statement came out colder than you intended, “I did see you this morning, do you make a habit of hanging out in the teacher’s lounge?”

He gulped. “No,” he answered, “No, I just…I had a meeting with Rosalie this morning about the spring concert.”

Pure enough excuse. However, Mrs. White had also let it slip that he and Ms. Mullins apparently had a fling a few months prior, which only intrigued you more. What was so special about this guy that he could avoid a criminal trial for identity theft and date his boss in one fell swoop?

“I see,” you said coyly, trying to scrutinize him without being too obvious, “And are you and Rosalie…close?” If Dewey’s face was pink before, it had now turned to an embarrassing shade of scarlet.

“Oh, um, no,” he said, clearly flustered. “Nope. She’s a great…lady. And really cares about the kids. But…no. Not very close.” You nodded, completely unconvinced. You didn’t want to believe the gossip, but with a response like that, how could you not at least consider that it could be true?

Dewey shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his grip tightening on the sheet music. “We kissed,” he blurted, exhaling heavily, “Like, twice. She’s great but…I’m single. Very single.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his honesty. It was oddly refreshing. “Should I be taking that as some kind of hint?” you flirted, smiling softly. You couldn’t care less that your nose and fingertips were growing red from the cold.

“Only if you want,” he said, a shy smile dancing on his lips. Panic overtook his features only seconds later. “I mean, shit, not to be too forward or anything—”

“You know, you are terrible at this,” you said, cutting him off. Dewey flashed an embarrassed grin, letting out another breathy laugh, “How about I just give you my number and we just go from there?”

The two of you quickly exchanged digits and walked to your respective cars separately, unknowingly sharing excited smiles that lasted all the way home.

~oOo~

A few weeks later, you found yourself sticking up flyers for the School of Rock’s annual midwinter concert after the final bell had rung. Dewey had somehow roped you into posting the brightly colored papers on every corkboard, chalkboard, and section of blank wall space in the school.

“I thought you’d be headed home by now,” you heard Mrs. White call from down the hall. You jumped slightly, the haughty timbre in her voice surprising you.

Plastering on your most innocent smile, you turned to face your colleague. “I will be soon,” your voice was dripping with saccharine sweetness, “Just hanging these flyers and then I’m home free.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “Any big weekend plans?” You shook your head, turning back to the wall where you stuck up another flyer. You hoped she would just walk past and be none the wiser.

Mrs. White approached you, skeptical. You were friends, sure, but she was old enough and smart enough to know when someone was hiding something.

And unfortunately for you, as soon as she caught a glimpse of exactly which flyers you were hanging up, it all clicked.

“I thought I made it very clear that Mr. Finn was nothing but trouble,” she said, sounding eerily like a disapproving mother. Despite your heartrate increasing rapidly, you remained calm.

An incredulous scoff left your lips as you placed your free hand on your chest, “Mrs. White,” she rolled her eyes at you using her surname, “I was simply assisting another educator in promoting a fundraiser for this school that seeks to promote the arts and enrich our students’ lives.”

“Did you rehearse that?”

“A little. But I mean it, Mr. Finn has been nothing but professional. We’ve barely even spoken outside of planning the concert.”

That was a lie, of course. The truth was, ever since you and Dewey had exchanged information, you had texted and called and even met up a few times outside of school. Of course, they couldn’t exactly be called dates—at least that’s what you told yourself.

He seemed nervous around you at first, sure, but as soon as you got to know him, that faded away and you were left with a carefree, albeit scatterbrained work buddy. And despite the occasional flirt, it was clear that he wasn’t as interested in you as you first thought.

Which only crushed you the tiniest bit.

Mrs. White glanced at the colorful flyer again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Well, of course I’ll be there to support our students’ artistic endeavors,” she said, a small smirk on her lips, “But don’t think I still don’t have my eye on you.”

You could tell she wasn’t being completely serious, but a small shiver of fear still wracked your spine as she walked towards the exit, the click clack of her pumps echoing on the linoleum tile.

You called goodbye sweetly, playing your role as nothing more than a helpful new teacher who was just excited about music education. Stapling up the last piece of paper onto a mostly bare bulletin board, you couldn’t help but overhear the noise of excited chatter coming from the music room down the hall.

The door was closed, but you managed to sneak a peek through the tiny window to see Dewey chatting with the bassist, who was about the same size as her as instrument. You felt a grin creeping onto your face.

Dewey’s passion for music came out the most when teaching the kids; even after watching him play a gig at the Roadhouse, you never saw his eyes light up more than when he was in that practice room.

You turned away and took a few steps toward the exit when you heard the door creak open, the chatter growing louder before muffling again. “Are you spying on me or something? You’re already getting into the concert for free, ya know.”

Dewey’s voice was more hoarse than usual, the gruffness making your stomach flip. “Not spying,” you teased, glancing over at the bulletin board, “Just doing your job for you.”

He clutched his heart dramatically, “You wound me,” he smirked, “But seriously, thanks for doing this. Hopefully we can drum up some more buzz.” You waved off his praise.

“No trouble. Consider us even since you had to suffer through listening to me babble on for way too long last night.” You two had made a habit of call each other late at night, which only confused your feelings even further. Your brain couldn’t decide if you were just co-workers, friends, or something more.

Apparently, Dewey couldn’t decide either.

“It’s okay,” he replied, running a hand through his messy waves, “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” He bared a toothy smile, wiping his palms on his dark jeans. His casual remark was innocent enough but still found a way to make your heart ache.

You decided the best course of action was to turn the attention away from yourself. “Well, I���m sure you won’t have any trouble with attendance,” you said, referencing the brightly colored flyer again, “From what I hear your kids are incredible.”

He beamed like a proud parent. “Yeah, yeah they are,” he said, “And thank you for spreading the word. Some teachers around here still aren’t too keen on me, after, well…everything.”

You felt yourself frown, your mind flashing to Mrs. White’s warnings. From what you could see, everyone had misjudged Dewey. He was kind, passionate, albeit far less put together than the other Horace Green staff, but he loved teaching and he loved those kids.

Wasn’t that enough to take a chance on?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I did have big plans with my couch and a shitty movie, but—”

“You and me. Tonight. Roadhouse.”

“Okay?” he laughed, taken aback by your abruptness.

“And this is a real date, Finn,” you added. “No take backs.” A look of panic flashed across his face, and for a split second you wondered if you had made a terrible miscalculation. But how could you not take matters into your own hands after his weeks of mixed signals?

Before you could open your mouth to apologize profusely for stepping way over that friendship line, Dewey grabbed your arm lightly, pulling the two of you around the corner and away from the only occupied classroom on a Friday afternoon.

And he kissed you.

Softly at first, so gently that you felt yourself melting into the cold painted cinderblock wall as he grabbed your waist. Prep schools weren’t designed to be the most romantic of places, but perhaps that was for the best.

Nevertheless, you let your eyes flutter shut as your lips molded to Dewey’s, your breath hitching in your throat.  After a few seconds he pulled away, a shocked look on his face that surely mirrored yours.

“Sorry,” he muttered, a smirk creeping its way onto his mouth, “Surprised myself with that little stunt, huh?” You nodded as he peeled himself away from you. You instinctively checked your surroundings, but you were alone.

“Dewey, are you insane—”

You wanted to be angry with him for risking both of your jobs, but the fluttering in your heart was overwhelming. One thing was for certain, there was no mistaking that signal.

“I just, I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “But yes. I’ll see you tonight. No take backs.”

You smiled as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as he happily sprinted back to his students.

*****

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

read part 2 here!

#dewey finn #dewey #dewey x reader #dewey finn x reader #fluff #fluff prompts #fluff prompt #fluff fic #school of rock #school of rock musical #sor #sor musical #sor broadway #school of rock broadway #alex brightman #beetlejuice #broadway #fanfiction prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #broadway fanfiction #jack black #au #writing prompt #romance writing #writing #my writing #fanfic authors #request

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 26: The Longest Nights

Summary: Gifts are exchanged and holidays observed.

Word Count: 2,598

Author's Note: Hey everyone! There won't be a chapter next Thursday. Sorry! The holidays are just too busy, I know I won't have the time. We will be back for the New Year on 12/29. In the meantime, I'd like to wish a safe and happy holiday to anyone who celebrates, and for anyone who doesn't I hope you have a great week!

Masterlist

Recently, Thor and Loki had begun taking walks in the early evening. It was time to themselves, away from the weight of their responsibilities, just the two of them. It had been Thor's idea, therefore Loki would absolutely never admit to how much he enjoyed it. Usually they would talk, either about their recent activities or their shared past or something one had learned recently. Often they simply strolled together in silence, wandering wherever their feet happened to take them.

Today their feet lead them out of New Asgard and down the road. Loki was retelling a joke that he was sure Thor had heard a dozen times before when he stopped mid-sentence. There was a moving truck parked in front of your studio. For a split second his heart froze, but reason caught up to him shortly after. Of course you weren't moving. You would have mentioned it. The rolling door on the back of the truck was open, and as they approached you emerged from the darkness amongst the boxes and crates.

"Boys!" You threw your hands over your head as you grinned, walking down the ramp. "I'm so glad you're here!" "As am I!" Thor called. "Are you leaving?" "Tomorrow morning." You looked concerned. "Did I not tell you? I go to the Jul market in Oslo every year. It's a big earner. I'll be there for a couple weeks, but I'll be back in time for the solstice." "Ah, well we wish you the best of luck." "Hey, I have something for you guys. Do you have a minute to come inside?" You pointed toward your cottage. "Oh, certainly." Thor gestured for you to lead the way.

You brought them inside, it was bright and warm as always. The evergreen tree stood in your living room, decked out in lights and baubles. Ash happily trotted up to greet the brothers.

You bent down and drew two packages wrapped in colored paper from beneath the tree, offering one to Thor and the other to Loki. "Happy Jul!" Thor and Loki both wore expressions of surprise as they accepted the gifts. "I know, I know, it's early. I'm just impatient. I couldn't wait until I got back." "My lady," Thor fiddled with the end of a ribbon. "I'm afraid-" "We haven't anything to offer in return." Loki finished. You laughed. "Come on, you know that's not the point. I just want to see your reactions. These really aren't much at all."

The brothers exchanged a look of hesitation before tearing away the paper and opening the boxes. Each held a ceramic mug. Thor's was tall and wide and sturdy. Reds and yellows bubbled and fought on the glazed surface. It was vivacious. Loki's was elegant, with a slightly curved profile. The top half was glazed in a rich, deep green while the lower half was bare clay, a matte metallic black. Salt fired, he recognized. The handle fit his hand perfectly. He wondered how you did that.

"This is wonderful!" Thor boomed, holding his mug up to inspect it closely. "Quite beautiful." Loki looked up from his mug and met your eyes. You were beaming. "I'm so glad you like them!" "They will be treasured." Thor asserted. You smiled, then your face lit as a new thought occurred. "Oh! Hey, you guys should take my leftovers. I'll just have to throw them out otherwise." You started off toward your kitchen. Loki chuckled. "You insist on feeding us even when you are away?" You stopped short of the fridge and rocked back on your heels. "Well, if you don't want them...." "No!" Thor interjected, stepping forward and pushing Loki back. "Don't listen to my brother. It would be a terrible shame for good food to go to waste. We'll gladly take it." You smirked. "Alright then." You started pulling food from the fridge and arranging it for travel. "Will Ash be attending the market as well?" Loki was stroking the dog's fur absently. "Yes, he's coming with me. I have a friend coming by to take care of Breidr and Goat, so don't panic if you see someone out back."

The meals were packed away and you bid the gods goodbye, hugging each one in turn. Loki felt a little heavy leaving your home, knowing it would soon be empty. Later that evening, he was washing his mug and turned it over. The bottom was stamped with your bird silhouette. Something about it gave him comfort.

**

Loki and Thor were leaving their home with a singular mission: find a gift for you. New Asgard was trimmed in lights, they had been shipped over and festooned along the streets and buildings courtesy of Tony Stark. It was no wonder that these lights are such a significant part of the humans' festivities, Loki mused, so much of the winter's days were consumed by the dark. Your cottage came into view, the lights on your porch and tree were illuminated. Loki's heart skipped a beat for just a moment before he reminded himself that you were not home, they must be set to come on automatically. As they passed by he couldn't help but feel that the farm seemed desolate.

The town's market was bustling, and seemed to have expanded. Temporary booths were erected for an influx of new vendors here for the holiday market. Throngs of customers filed between the stalls and the air was thick with the scent of street food and the rabble of conversation. The brothers meandered from booth to booth, nothing was immediately catching Loki's eye. He felt a strange sense of pressure in choosing this gift for you. It required a very precise level of intimacy. It needed to say that you were important to him, but it shouldn't be something he would be embarrassed by once this passing infatuation had dissolved.

"She likes reading, yes?" Thor said as they stopped in front of a table filled with books. Loki looked over the titles. Every single one seemed to be a murder mystery or similar fare. "She does. I'm not sure if these are her typical sort of genre, however."

They moved on. They stopped to view some knitted items, briefly mulled over a selection of candles, and breezed right past a table full of ceramics without a second glance. Nothing was particularly standing out to either of them, and progress through the market was surprisingly slow. There were so many stalls, so many people. It was a dragging pace, and was beginning to feel hopeless. They found themselves at another booth filled with books.

"Why in the Nine are there so many crime novels?!" Loki was becoming frustrated by the grinding procession. Thor sighed, he seemed to be feeling the same. "I think we may need to split up, cover more ground." "Agreed." They gave each other a nod and wordlessly split in opposite directions with the deftness of two skilled warriors executing a crucial strategic maneuver.

It was a little easier moving through the crowd on his own, and there were booths that Loki didn't feel the need to browse that he may have had to stop for with Thor. He examined some scarves, you were always bundling against the cold, but this felt like too distant of a gift. He briefly considered a table of gold jewelry, but that would certainly be too strong of a sentiment. In his progress he passed the booth that was usually yours. There was some other vendor there, hawking some kind of street food, he was too busy bristling at the interloper to pay attention to what it was. Nextdoor Khadija and Hani were quite busy at their stall, Hani didn't even notice him passing. This was normally the edge of the market, but the temporary tables and booths continued on. It felt like wandering into unknown territory. Here he finally found something that caught his eye.

The table was filled with polished stone carvings. Some larger sculptures, some smaller trinkets. There were smooth spherical paperweights and pleasing little figurines, all in a variety of colored stone. On the far end of the table were pieces of jewelry. He was on the verge of moving on when he spotted it. It was a necklace, the pendant was a rich green stone, carved into the shape of a bird in flight, wings outstretched. It was set on a black cord, which passed directly through the back of the pendant, so the bird was fixed in place rather than dangling below the cord. It was exactly what he was looking for.

He made the purchase immediately. It was packaged into a small box, he expressed his gratitude to the vendor, then started making his way back to the entrance of the market. A warmth settled in his chest as he walked, imagining how you might receive the gift. When he reached the entrance Thor was already there waiting, carrying a large paper bag in one hand and the remnants of a waffle in the other.

"How did you fare, brother?" Loki asked as he approached. Thor grinned. "Oh, very well." He finished off his street food then reached into the bag and pulled out a blanket. It was red and white with black accents, with the typical Nordic patterns of bars and zig-zags and eight-point stars. Along the borders there were black canine figures, running. Loki supposed they were intended to be wolves, but they could easily pass for Ash. He smiled warmly at Thor's selection. "She will love that." "And you?" Loki revealed the small box and opened it, tilting it his way. Thor smiled. "Oh, brother, that is perfect." "I thought so too." He closed the box and put it away.

The brothers walked back through the town in victory. As they rounded the bend in the road your gently-glowing yew tree marked that they were halfway home. All that was left now was waiting through these long dark nights for your return.

**

It had been harder than he had expected. He hadn't realized how much he had become accustomed to seeing you. He did his best to occupy himself as the days passed and the nights stretched on. More than once he had started his day with the intention of walking to your home before he reminded himself of your absence. Finally, the solstice arrived and with it you were returning. Thor had made arrangements to host you for dinner. Valkyrie was procuring the food from somewhere. He was a little embarrassed by how hard it was to resist meeting you at your home and instead stay here and wait for you to arrive. Eventually his efforts were rewarded when he heard a knock at the door and Thor greeting you. As he stood from his chair in the living room he caught sight of Thor lifting your feet off the ground with a hug. Your bright laughter was a soothing balm.

"You have been missed. How was your journey?" Thor set you back on your feet before making his obligatory greeting to Ash. "I missed you too. The city is busy, it's nice being back." "Oh! Your gift is upstairs, I'll go fetch it." You smiled. "You didn't have to get me anything." "Nonsense!" Thor called, already in the kitchen and heading up the stairs.

You stepped into the living room and smiled warmly at Loki. He took a moment to simply absorb the sight of you.

"How have you been these past couple weeks?" You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorway. Loki shrugged. "It's been very quiet. Peaceful, actually. I got quite a lot of reading in, since I wasn't constantly being disturbed." You barked a laugh. "As if! You're the one always showing up on my doorstep." "Dragged to your doorstep, perhaps." He waved dismissively. "I suppose without you at home there was nothing to draw Thor there. It was a great relief. Just imagine: we were able to travel to and from town without stopping." You rolled your eyes and shook your head. He allowed a soft smile. "It is good to see you again." You returned his smile. "You too." "I have something for you." He closed the distance between the two of you and with a flick of his wrist pulled a small box from nowhere. It was wrapped in green paper. "You didn't have to do that." "And yet I did. Terribly gracious of me, I would say." You laughed, the sound sank straight to his bones, and accepted the box as he held it out toward you.

He was suddenly nervous as he watched you pull the paper away and open the box. Perhaps he had made a mistake. You gasped when you saw the pendant. "Loki!" The corner of his mouth turned up. "Do you like it?" "I love it!" You looked up at him then back down to the box as you lifted the necklace free and brought it in for a closer look. "I can't believe how perfect it is." He nodded. "I thought it would suit you." "Help me put it on?" You set the box down and placed the cord around your neck, turning around holding the ends toward him. He only faltered for a moment. "Certainly." He gingerly fastened the clasp, his fingertips just barely brushing your skin. You turned back around, adjusting the pendant. "How does it look?" He hadn't considered the length of the cord. It was short, settling close around the base of your neck. The bird pendant rested where your collarbones met. It accentuated your form perfectly. He nodded. "Yes, it suits you very well." You beamed. "Thank you, Loki." You wrapped him in a hug, which he didn't hesitate to reciprocate.

Thor appeared in the doorway holding up his box for you. "Happy Jul!" You turned to him, smiling, and he noticed the necklace. "Ah! Loki chose well. My gift, however," he held the box out to you, "is functional as well as beautiful." You removed the paper and opened the box, releasing a sort of squeal as you pulled the blanket out. "It's Ash!" You pointed at the black canines running the border. Thor chuckled. "I said the same thing, I knew you must have it." "It's wonderful, thank you." You reached up to hug him again, then bent to show the blanket to Ash. "Look, it's you!" The dog obediently gave the blanket a sniff but once he determined it was not edible he was largely uninterested.

You took a seat with the brothers in the living room and talked for a while about your time at the market and they filled you in on the goings-on that you missed while away. Valkyrie arrived with bags and boxes from a restaurant in town. Loki was relieved to see that it wasn't pizza, but rather a proper dinner with proper food. While he and Thor set the table and laid out the offerings, you exchanged gifts with Valkyrie. You gave her a bowl that was a fine shade of mottled blue. She gave you a very lovely pocket knife. She also had a gift for Ash, some type of dehydrated animal part. Loki was not inclined to ask which part of what sort of animal. The dog was delighted and immediately carried his trophy off to a quiet corner to enjoy.

Outside, a quiet snow was falling in the dark. Inside three gods, a human, and a dog were basking in light and warmth and food and fondness. It was the longest night of the year, but it didn't feel that way.

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Thrown Tag list If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please leave a comment or send me a message/ask.

@mischief2sarawr, @imalovernotahater, @norestfortheshelbywicked, @purplekitten30, @ozymdias, @pdraxxi, @goblingirlsarah, @chantsdemarins, @n3rdybirdee, @marvel-love24, @lokiprompts, @ladymischief11, @gigglingtigger, @lilmilkbun, @huntress-artemiss

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki & thor #mcu loki #loki mcu #slow burn #loki fanfic #reader insert #loki thrown

[lloydfrontera]

I just had a funny thought and I'mma share it with you, cringy or not:

You know how the common joke is 'Lloyd ugly'? I want a single case where not only does some noblewoman consider it not the case, but they actively do not care for Javier.

That'd break everyone's brain outta shear "…wat." energy.

Is it dumb? Yes. Do I care? Not really.

no because i would loveee that! en gustos se rompen generos and i'm sure there has to be at least one (1) woman in lorasia that sees lloyd and just goes "he's kinda cute tbh"

and if they didn't immediately fall for javier? double the hilarity akshdka

we kinda got that with silurian in the last few chapters but i think we can take it even farther

like maybe some lady hears a lot about them and everyone always mentions how ugly lloyd is compared to how fucking gorgeous javier is so when she meets them she has this crazy high expectation for them. only too meet them and then go "oh those are. just some guys :/"

and like she's not into super pretty boys y'know, they're cute but they don't do much for her. and she also doesn't like the classic, serious handsome guys, it just feels like they're,,, missing something but she can't quite explain what.

and then she sees lloyd go absolutely feral on something with his demonic smile and all and she's just like "oh no he's hot (O_O；)" cause it turned out her type was absolutely batshit crazy guys with insane expressions and y'know what she's valid for that

lmao maybe she's a client and lloyd just figured out how to squeeze some money out of her so he goes >:D and javier who is right behind him is already expecting her to be horrified like everyone else only for her face to??? go bright red??? her eyes wandering all over the room but inevitably going back to lloyd in fascination? maybe even fanning herself a little bit both to hide her face and because did the room get a little hot all of the sudden??

and then they make eye contact, javier in astonished horror at someone being actually attracted to that expression and her in total embarrassment at being caught thirsting in public and they have a mental conversation with their eyes that basically consists of them going "oh my fucking god-" "SHUT UP!" "-are you for fucking real-" "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" "-you're into that?? that???" "SHUT UPPPP-"

the sheer astonishment makes javier drop all pretenses of formality with her, he cannot respect someone who is into that face, he's so sorry about it but it's not happening

and meanwhile lloyd has no idea what's going on right over head because he's too busy planning how to make more money <3

and this would develop into her calling upon lloyd to do more jobs for her just to get an excuse to see him and him accepting because they're easy jobs but she pays really well for them and he's not gonna say no to easy money (even if he does make sure to never overcharge her and to get her her money's worth) but he's blissfully unaware of her clumsy attempts at flirting with him and meanwhile javier and her develop a semi-hostile relationship that is based upon javier being horrified at her taste and suspicious of her tries to seduce lloyd and her wanting to throw javier out of a window everytime he calls her out on this

the day javier develops feelings for lloyd she gets this sudden rush of triumph and smugness like she can't wait to rub something on someone's face but she doesn't quite know what or who it is

#hey i got an ask #dtgvxg #the greatest estate developer #tged #lloyd frontera #i'm so sorry i took this ask and ran with it like a man chased by the law it's a chronic problem i know akjsda #i got actually really fond of this random lady i need a name for her #javier asrahan

[bulletproofscales]

get used to the fuse - chapter 12

hii its been so long, (￣▽￣*)ゞ sorry these past months have been crazy for me, but i havent forgotten about my baby! heres the continuation! the next chapter will be the final end of this fic!! so stay tuned (´ ε ` )♡

tags: namgi , gainer min yoongi , obese min yoongi , limited mobility , stuffing , teasing , humiliation , revelations , falling over , breaking furtniture (kinda) , tension , weight gain denial , kink talk

5.9k words

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It was easy to force this day deep down his memory. Forgetting it, as if it never had happened. Presumably no one knew what Namjoon had done in those changing rooms and he won’t give it a lot of space in his mind to ponder about it. 

Maybe that's why it's easy to turn the rest of that evening with Hoseok into a blurr. Everything said becoming just a haze of side-eyed glances, swallowed burps and suffocating gym clothes. 

That’s probably why he is a bit startled when he gets Yoongi’s text. 

yoongi: are you busy tonight? 

yoongi: we have to talk

He can’t help lift his eyebrows as he reads the message. What would Yoongi possibly have anything to talk with him? 

you: sure! 

yoongi: great i’ll go to yours

yoongi: is 7 okay? 

you: i’ll see you then 

And when he sends it. It does seem okay, really. But as the hours creep on through the rest of the day it's impossible to stop his mind from wandering. Namjoon is sure he can count with one hand the times Yoongi has actively asked to see him, let alone ‘talk’? There’s nothing to talk about. They've been friends for decades now with a perfect record. 

Namjoon isn’t as nervous as he is just plain curious. He knows Yoongi through and through, after all. Though… When the doorbell rings, around 7, like they agreed, the man Namjoon sees at the door is nearly unrecognisable. 

Once lithe, almost frail looking Yoongi, had the width of almost Namjoon’s doorway. Round all the way, gut jutting forward pillowy but massive as it sagged over the waistband of his pants, nearly hiding his crotch entirely. Pink underbelly peeking from his shirt, table-cloth-sized shirt unable to cover all of it. Quite the contrary, it clung to the swollen protruding belly. The rolls that stacked on his sides from his juicy love handles all the way to the roll under his arm looked squeezed by the fabric. Thick along his waist and becoming bigger as they collected some of the fat from his newfound moobs; saggy and obscene-looking. Namjoon didn’t have to look to assume all that fat spilling to the sides, pushing Yoongi’s fattened tubby arms away from his torso, was probably showing as girthy back rolls behind him. 

Namjoon has to remind himself that Yoongi had a head, looking up to the steam dumpling shaped pudgy face. He’s having a hard time deciphering if this is just his normal tired looking face, or if all the fat hanging from his cheeks and under his jaw is making all that much more poutier and cute.

“You texted first!” He can’t help but beam. If his voice sounds just a little squeakier it has nothing to do with the nerves he was struck with. Abruptly moving to the side to make room for Yoongi to come in. Luckily he doesn't think much of Namjoon’s enthusiastic tone, smiling a bit as he waddled his way in. 

“Don’t make such a fuss about it or it won’t happen again.” His voice sounds so breathless, and as he walks past Namjoon the older’s girth truly becomes noticeable. In a way Namjoon is glad Yoongi has had the spare key all these years… He is not sure they would’ve fit in the elevator. Still through the shock of his own thoughts, he can tell Yoongi is doing that thing where he brushes Namjoon off instead of letting himself feel flustered over a comment. 

But he knows by now, even if he likes to pretend not to, Yoongi loves the reassurance. 

“Let me celebrate at least a little.” Even if he’s the one speaking, Yoongi’s deep breathing resonates through the living room as he lazily makes his way towards the couch. Ungracefully letting his weight fall onto it. Namjoon is sure he can see the pillows and springs underneath them dent into the shape of his wide ass; if the loud creak is anything to go by. “Anything to drink?” He would’ve offered anyway… Namjoon is pretty sure he would've. But Yoongi’s subtle wheezing is encouraging to say the least. 

“Any whiskey?” 

“So it's that type of night.” Namjoon can’t help but snort. And Yoongi chuckles right back, even if he is sitting, the laugh alone makes his fat ripple. That on its own enough to force Namjoon to turn on his heel towards the kitchen. “You know I do.” 

“You can have some whiskey for your celebration.” Namjoon hears him as he gets the two whiskey glasses and his bottle. “Don’t let it get to your head, though. I had to invite myself over before you invited me to Hoseok’s, to work out.” 

He giggles then, Yoongi’s underlying melodrama never ceases to amaze him. But returning to the living room with an adorable looking out on his lips. Namjoon knows it's serious. Though he can’t help his endeared smile from staying on his face, dimpling his cheeks. “Where did you get that idea?” 

“Who do you think?” Yoongi’s unamused tone is even funnier as Namjoon hands him a glass. “He won’t leave me alone!”  His eyes bulge out, and his pout becomes even bigger in a way that's sickeningly endearing; the flip on Namjoon’s stomach definitely agrees. 

“Hobi hyung was always really intense about his lifestyle…” An apologetic smile grows on his face, and it's worth it for the scoff that makes Yoongi’s entire body ripple from the expressive movement. 

“It was never this… targeted.” He eyes Namjoon with a knowing look. Frightening but somehow relieving in its own way. Like he is allowed to talk about it. 

“Ah…” He finds himself nodding, maybe a bit nervously. Even with the acknowledgement, he doesn’t know how much Namjoon is allowed to say, to comment on. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself to do so accordingly. Luckily Yoongi goes on for him. 

“He treats me like I’m about to appear in one of those obese-people American shows!” He huffs sitting up straighter, entire body following the movement with jiggles. “I got fat, but he treats me like a ticking time bomb!” 

“Just fat?” Namjoon can’t help himself. Can’t stop himself before it's out and Yoongi is looking at him with widened eyes and ajar lips. His own face burning, brain fumbling over what to say.

“Last time I got a check up. Yes.” Yoongi’s tone is cautious. He raises his eyebrow in a way that tries to be threatening, but inevitably eases Namjoon’s nerves. “Watch yourself.” The squeaky laugh that slips past Namjoon’s chest feels like the pressure lifting from his chest; how he’s been holding his breath. 

“How long ago was that check up?” Feeling a little bit more comfortable he leans teasingly to ask. But gets weakly shoved back to his spot. 

“Long enough I already have my next appointment booked! Yah!” Namjoon’s body goes limp in laughter, letting himself fall against the armrest of the couch. “This is exactly why I came over.” He huffs quietly, shaking his head and taking a sip, but the little smile on his lips gives him away. It always does. 

“I just can’t blame Hoseok for worrying.” 

“It’s not just worrying.” Yoongi deadpans, looking a tad more serious than before. “I was always unfit, now I’m just unfit and fat.” Just fat, Namjoon’s mind prompts unhelpfully. “If he wants to fuss over anyone, why doesn’t he fuss over Jimin? He looks heavier than me.”

“I think he said something about Jimin going to his yoga classes.” He pursed his lips trying to think back to his last conversation with the gym instructor.  Only getting a ‘tsk’ in response from the older, taking a rather long sip of whiskey. “But wait, what do I have to do with any of this?” 

“Seok-ah keeps telling me you’re going, therefore I should go.” Namjoon snorts. “Or that I should talk to you and you’ll be able to tell me everything about how fucking amazing those classes are.” He can’t hold his laugh then.

“I went to two of his classes, like 2 months apart from one another.” And he looks at Yoongi’s reaction for his next confession. “And for the last one I ditched it 10 minutes in to drink a protein shake by the changing rooms and almost passed out.” 

Yoongi seems as stunned at Namjoon’s words as Namjoon is of having said them out loud. Gummy smile growing in his face alleviating some of the pressure of the suffocating silence. “Does he know?” 

“He’d have to be deluded to have not noticed.” 

“He is deluded.” Yoongi snorts entertained. “Acting like he is better than all of us while he chubs up.” 

All of us? 

Namjoon can’t help shift a bit uncomfortable, shrugging with pursed lips. “He is the fittest one of the group. That much is true.” His eyes scatter away from Yoongi’s raised eyebrow. “Some of us are just fitter…” The snort the older lets out is enough to make his head snap back towards Yoongi. “What?” 

“You’re not telling me you're fit, are you?” His tone is insultingly amused. 

“What's that tone supposed to mean?” Namjoon doesn’t need an argument to say to get defensive with. He can get defensive all on his own, thank you very much. 

“Right, because all fit people have little sneak outs to chug protein shakes after 10 minutes of exercise.” With an insane level of audacity Yoongi snorts. Shaking his head, Namjoon’s eyes dug daggers into the older “You were never fit, Joon-ah.” 

Their eyes meet then, warm and teasing against the younger’s glaringly defensive gaze. Namjoon remembers then, with a bit of horror, that Yoongi knows him just as thoroughly as he knows him. He feels naked, seen in places he doesn’t want to be seen. 

It feels like they aren’t just talking about fitness. 

“Guess you have a point.” Is all he can say, in an attempt to push the conversation elsewhere, his eyes look into his whiskey glass and take a sip himself. Ever perceptive, Yoongi seems to take a hint. 

“Where’s Jungkook?” He peeks a bit into the kitchen, not leaving the comfort of the couch of course. He seems to be denting it permanently. “Working out?” And okay, the teasing smile that grows in his adorably round face is kind of funny. 

“Pft.” Namjoon can’t help but smile back, warmth contagious as it spreads along his chest. “Don’t joke like that or he might take you to the gym with him, he did it to me.” Even with his joking tone, his eyes widened in warning. 

“Oh! So that's three times you went to the gym!” Yoongi chirps patting his back, with a squeaky laugh making his body shake lively. Only for Namjoon to roll his eyes and swat his hand away. “But seriously where is he?” His voice is a little breathless from the laughter, some reminiscent jiggling on his belly from it too. 

“He’s out with Tae-ah. Didn’t bother telling me where. Brat.” 

“So that's why it's so peaceful.” Yoongi seems to sink even further into the couch. 

“Is it? Maybe for you.” He deadpans and only gets a new wave of giggles out of the older. 

“Is Namjoonie feeling attacked?” Even with the sickeningly sweet tone of his voice, coated with sarcasm, there’s still no malice to his voice. Leaning closer to the younger, so his belly sags to the side of his lap, pliant and enticing. “I’ll stop with the comments, I’m sorry.” 

Taking the apology seriously would mean something was actually wrong. That something actually rang true. So Namjoon smiles charmingly, turning his head to Yoongi, whose face is closer than he anticipated. Without looking he can feel some of his overhang brushing his thigh. “Don’t worry about it. You can pay for dinner to make it up to me.” 

Yoongi smiles like he has something to say about that. But luckily he keeps it to himself. Smiling back, softer than before. “Deal.” 

“Wanna see the beats I’ve been working on?” That manages to knock Yoongi’s smile off his face into a stunned expression. 

“You’re producing again?!” He feels quite satisfied when that same shock manifests in Yoongi’s voice, low hanging jaw making his double chin ever more prominent. 

“I’ve got more free time than ever. Come.” He gets up decisively from the couch, and the same can’t be said about Yoongi. Who is looking at Namjoon almost pouting. Taking a big chunk of the couch unapologetically.

“Can’t you just bring your laptop over?” A smile grows on Namjoon’s face. 

“I switched to a PC a few months ago.” He still has his old laptop, but Yoongi doesn’t need to know that. Maybe he wants to see Yoongi move a little; for a completely different reason than Hoseok does. 

“Ah…” He smiles then, as if trying to brush it off. “It really has been a while since I texted first.” Namjoon's smile only becomes more pleased. “Okay then. You win.” He chuckles though leaning forward with his hand on the armrest of the couch. Grunting a little as his wobbly knees lift his body off the couch. 

Except he doesn’t. His ass lifts a bit before falling back down. 

The couch makes a dangerous creaky noise. 

Namjoon has to hide his stunned expression as his belly makes a loud slapping sound when it falls against his lap. Fat rippling from his belly to his cheeks. He won’t look at Namjoon, but he is sure Yongi can feel his eyes on him, looking down at the belly that takes over his lap, sagging between his thighs, and keeping him pinned to the couch. 

Maybe that's what motivates Namjoon to put his hand forward in a silent offering. Trying to keep the cockiness off his smile. Especially when Yoongi looks up and accepts it, beginning to swing again as Namjoon makes an effort to pull when Yoongi is leaning forward. 

Nothing could have prepared him for how heavy he was. Nearly slipping himself onto the couch too against Yoongi. Namjoon grunts a bit in effort, if he weren’t as focused on not falling into Yoongi, he would’ve been polite enough to try and conceal it. The older’s other hand gripping the couch’s armrest as another form of support as he finally stands up. Belly bumping into Namjoon’s. 

“That grunt was unnecessary.” He looks up at him, now the entire heft of his gut separating them. But the breathless tone of his voice and the hint of pink dusting his cheeks strips his words from any bite. 

“The grunt was unintentional.” Namjoon’s smile is kind but truthful. “You’re not that easy to manhandle anymore, huh?” He regrets his choice of words as soon as they come out. Manhandle? Really?! Luck must be on his side, since again Yoongi opts to not mention the information he knows about Namjoon’s…preferences. 

They were dumb teens back then, but if he could turn back time, he would’ve stopped them from sharing their kinks back when they were in highschool. Barely discovering their sexuality and the intricacies in their preferences. 

Manhandling, one of their shared interests. 

“Finally. Yeah.” Yoongi chuckles as he walks past Namjoon, side completely brushing the younger’s torso as he easily makes his way to Namjoon’s room. Even if he isn’t one to text first, Yoongi still has been here enough to know the place like the back of his hand. Hell, he helped Namjoon unpacked when he first moved!

And yes. From the back he can definitely see the back rolls he had anticipated. Though no level of preparation would have spared him from the impact of said rolls clinging to his shirt in a way that forces the hem up his love handles with each step. Milky soft skin, covered in pink stretch marks. Namjoon’s hands itch to trace them, if he hadn’t been taken aback by the wobbling of his ass and thighs. Striking him with the fact that even if his weight settled mostly on his belly, Yoongi had softened truly all over. Even the flabby back of his arms ripple with each heavy step. He is sure the neighbours can hear. 

Yoongi doesn’t ask to sit in Namjoon’s chair, rather groaning in relief at the sight of it, waiting for him. As all the younger can do is wince at the dangerous creak it lets out, much like the couch; except he doesn’t trust the 6 year old screws of the chair as much as he did the springs of the couch. 

“Show me.” Even if bossy, Yoongi’s face rounds out with a giddy gummy smile, chubby hand already taking the mouse and making his way through Namjoon’s computer like it's his own. It wouldn’t be like there's anything for him to hide… He deleted all his downloaded porn when Yoongi stumbled on it the first time when they were still barely beginning to meet each other. Real ice breaker. 

“Ah, in the FL Studio folder. Yah!” He chuckles a bit nervously, blushing for something completely different than the effects of Yoongi’s body on his perverted mind. “They’re really not that great, scrappy at bes-”

“Shut up.” He opens the first one. And Namjoon complies just in time for the first beat to play. Though it's unceremoniously interrupted by the growling of Yoongi’s stomach, a roar strong enough his fat wobbles along with it. As if to show truly how empty he is, needy for more. Yoongi pauses it then. “No, okay, I can’t appreciate them like this.”

“Dinner?” Namjoon guesses, his eyes still taking in the sight of Yoongi squeezed into his chair. Plump hips spilling from underneath the armrests, that dig into his side as well. Back looking too broad for the backrest, wide but gentle curve of his shoulders making him look softened but somehow sturdier than he was before. 

He has to rethink all of those manhandling fantasies that hunted him in his early 20s. And replace Yoongi as the main character from all of them. If anything, it looks like Yoongi would be the one heavy enough to pin Namjoon down. Nope, not going down that route, 

“Please, yes.” Namjoon is sure the older didn’t mean to be whiny, but demanding. But the permanent pout on his lips makes him giggle. “Just tell me what you’re craving so hyungie can buy your forgiveness.” “Oh I had already forgotten about that! Nice.” He reaches out into Jungkook’s room to look for his desk chair. Disappointed to find a normal dining table chair. Right, he changed it a few days ago… Something about needing a replacement. Better ‘lumbar support’, right. He walks back into the room with the stiff chair. He’s been avoiding these, Jungkook too, rather eating on the couch or in their rooms when the other is out. But it’ll do. 

“So?” 

“Honestly… I’m just craving dessert for dinner.” His smile is shy but Yoongi’s enthusiastic nodding. As the younger sits beside him, this chair is so uncomfortable. No wonder they stopped using them. 

“I was so worried about you being turned into a health freak by Seok, I ate dinner before coming. So you didn't over me like… a kale pancake or something.” He snorts. Looking for bakeries on his phone, before glancing up and down at Namjoon. “Now I know, I had nothing to worry about.” He says teasingly. 

“You never did.” Namjoon can’t help but say assertively, feeling particularly trapped in his chair. “I don’t eat meat, but I still have good taste.” But he makes sure to make his huffing more playful this time. Shifting uncomfortable in the sharp edges of the chair that dig into the back of his thighs. “What are you ordering anyway?” Yoongi eyes him, unconvinced of not only Namjoon’s defence, but his change of subject as well. 

“Trust me. I know what you like.” 

You know too much. He holds back from saying. Or worse. I know what you like too.

“There. Should arrive soon.” He puts his phone on the desk. Namjoon must’ve missed it when he took it from his back pocket, the struggle it must’ve been. Unless he was hiding it someplace else, in one of his folds. 

And he is already thinking about unrealistic expectations he got from porn. This is why Namjoon doesn’t trust himself around the subject. Too disgusted by his own carnal desires to even consider inflicting them on his friends. But his mind works against him. He forces himself to relax then, leaning back on the chair, trying to focus on the uncomfortable feeling of his chair rather than the twisting of the pit of his stomach.

“You know, we could’ve just gone to the kitchen and see what we find.” Namjoon’s dimpled smile tries to be easy-going, before it becomes teasing. “Instead of stopping everything we are doing until the delivery gets here.” 

“Oh I’m not standing up again.” His smile is wide but he shakes his head like he means it. “Unless you want to help me again; cause I’m pretty nestled in.” As if it wasn’t obvious enough, Yoongi’s hand grips onto the fat of his stomach moving it with a force that sends jiggles all across. The fat that's overspilling onto the armrest slapping against it at the same rhythm of his hands movements. 

Namjoon tries to disguise his choking as a cackle. “Suddenly, I don’t mind waiting.” He deadpans and feels accomplished when Yoongi giggles with him. Or at least, Yoongi looked convinced until his smile turned smug and satisfied.

“That’s what I thought.” 

Yoongi knows what he likes. His mind reminds him. Even this. 

“So who do you usually call to help you get up when you’re at home?” That was his attempt at a subject change. Though it's only once it leaves his lips, and Yoongi’s eyebrows go up to his hairline, he realises that he’s failed disastrously. 

“I don’t need help getting up.” Yoongi chuckles a bit, though Namjoon’s expression must be completely unconvinced. So he adds. “Not every time...” 

“What did you call yourself before?” His fingers scratch along his chin dramatically and teasing. “Just fat?” Okay, yes he’s definitely failed at trying to move away from the elephant in the room. 

The elephant that's sitting on his desk chair. 

“Enough!” He groans but Namjoon releases pressure in the form of a squeaky laugh, rubbing Yoongi’s shoulder apologetically. “It’s not like a doctor's opinion would change anything.” Its Namjoon’s turn to raise his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know…” He shrugs, eyes avoiding Namjoon’s. “Even if he told me I was obese… I doubt I’d do anything about it.” 

Oh. 

“Oh…” It's all he can reply, dumbly. For better or worse, Yoongi takes this as an invitation to explain himself. 

“Yeah I can’t go back now.” He chuckles endeared towards Namjoon. “I don’t remember ever having enjoyed myself this much.” The chair creaks even more when Yoongi leans back to caress the centre of his stomach gently. 

Namjoon is at a loss of words. Not trusting himself he replies. “That great, huh?” Eyes diverting from Yoongi’s now gigantic hand up to the screen in front of them. His face is warming up, the room feels smaller and the fucking chair getting tighter by the second. Or that might just be the knot in his stomach. 

“You would know.” Yoongi eyes him with a knowing smirk, one that makes a lump form at the base of Namjoon’s throat. 

Is he talking about Namjoons fetish? Or something else?

He doesn’t get the time to ponder on it, since the doorbell rings. It doesn’t look like Yoongi will get up to get it. 

“Be right back.” He mumbles a bit lost in the older’s words. Getting up maybe a bit too abruptly from his chair, judging the way it creaks back and he nearly stumbles into his desk. On autopilot as he rushes to the door; only to be faced with a poor delivery guy trying to carry multiple bags into Namjoon’s apartment complex. It's instinctive when he reaches out to help. 

“Thanks big guy.” He smiles as Namjoon takes the bags into his hands. Too concentrated in not dropping anything to even react to the comment. The delivery guy gets on his bike rushing off. And only when he is on the elevator does he think about it again. 

Big guy?

He guesses the delivery guy was a bit scrawny… 

Yoongi’s groan can be heard as soon as he opens the door to his apartment. “Finally!” 

“Don’t be greedy!” Namjoon yells back, a little breathless; the bags were heavier than he expected. Huffing a bit as he walks into the room, where Yoongi took the courtesy of shifting the chair to face Namjoon, gummy smile bright on his face. It makes up for the exertion of getting the heavy order. 

“How much did you even buy?” He chuckles a bit, setting them in front of his computer. Yoongi looked through it immediately. 

“Dessert! You can save some for Jungkook if you want.” His chubby hands pull out boxed cupcakes, cake slices, nutella stuffed cookies. 

“Dessert is one way to call it.” He snorts a bit. “You bought their entire stock.” It's lighthearted teasing, and Yoongi for sure is aware of his own appetite. But he blushes pink. 

“Just didn’t want to go hungry.” Yoongi shrugs, rather focusing on the bags. There's something liberating about being able to openly tease, and seeing Yoongi’s reaction to him; because he knows. Namjoon had dreams like this. 

“Can you go hungry? You don’t let yourself even think about feeling it before you are ordering something” His eyebrow raises, and his chair gets promptly shoved to the side. Though Yoongi barely manages to move him an inch. His fat arms too weak to even push Namjoon. 

“I meant for the both of us, ass.” He rolls his eyes, but hands Namjoon the box of cupcakes. Chocolate ones, his favourite. 

“Yeah, but I have a normal appetite.” Namjoon says endearly but begins to unwrap the first one. Fluffy and perfectly moist with rich frosting on top. And it doesn’t disappoint, biting into it easily and the deep chocolate flavour takes over his senses. “I don’t need all this to stop my hunger.” He eyes Yoongi who’s gone for the red velvet cookies. 

“You don’t?” That question shouldn't sound as genuine as it does. With Yoongi’s raised eyebrow and muffled voice; red crumbs already dusting the corners of his lips. 

“No?” Namjoon’s own voice is muffled by a full bite of cupcake. His mind a mess trying to untangle the assumptions in Yoongi’s question. Namjoon’s always had more appetite than Yoongi, but it would be ridiculous to think that stayed the same throughout the older’s weight gain.

“Oh– Well I just thought…” Even with the awkwardness of his voice, Yoongi’s eyes trail up and down Namjoon’s body quickly. “Nevermind.” The chuckle sounds endeared, but nevertheless a tad embarrassed. It only leaves Namjoon in an impossibly more nervous state of mind. 

Maybe that's why his hand forces the next cupcake entirely in one go. Yoongi seems to resort to the same. Finding comfort in the rich chocolate taste, the cupcakes aren’t that big. And they’re too fluffy to be filling, in spite of the thick layer of frosting on top. That’s probably the reason why Namjoon feels so at ease working his way through it. But even with the choir of eating noises in the empty apartment, Namjoon still feels a need to ask. 

“What is it?” The six cupcakes are gone, he is licking his fingers clean of the frosting. Yoongi eyes the younger. But his hands are much more urgent than his, reaching for anything that he can shovel down his mouth in as little bites as possible. Right now it seems to be cookies and cream donut. Or well… Donuts the whole 6 pack of them. Grabbing two at once and squishing them together just to stretch his lips around them. Desperate to satiate his hunger in ways that are downright animalistic. Namjoon feels like he forgot his own question. 

“I don’t know… That you would use this entire Enhanced-boom for…” He shrugs vaguely. Now entirely avoiding Namjoon’s confused stare. “With your kink and all…” Namjoon’s belly twists almost painfully; stunned by the way Yoongi just purses his lips shrugging. “You always talked about gaining weight…” 

He is painfully reminded of just how close he and Yoongi are. Nights in their early twenties when they could talk about what they craved. What they thought was impossible. 

“It was just a fantasy, hyung.” It's Namjoon’s turn to look away, reaching for a cheesecake slice. Hoping the thickness of it can smooth out the growing lump in his throat. His own chewing sounds hopefully loud enough to mute out Yoongi’s words and the way they bounce around in his head. The older leans closer, with a dangerous creak from his chair. 

“Yeah, I know.” His chewing is loud too, helping to muffle out everything going on in his head. “But isn’t it the perfect time to put it to the test?” From the corner of his eye, Namjoon can see the way the fatty side of Yoongi’s body spills from the armrest, the way his weight is enough to tilt the chair slightly to the side; with threatening creaks. 

It's becoming a bit overwhelming. The warmthness in his stomach, only starting to become comfortably full. The uncomfortable wood of the chair, the even more uncomfortable questions that hang in the air above them. Yoongi’s looming presence irradiating heat onto Namjoon, his open mouth chewing, the chair’s distinct complaints. 

“Can we just not talk about it?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it did, but the room is starting to feel cramped. Feels too big to hide what Yoongi already knows about him; cornered. Or maybe it's just the chair. 

“You asked.” Annoyance is clear in Yoongi’s voice. And he is right. Namjoon knows he is right. In a less panicked state of mind, he would’ve been able to act accordingly. 

“Well. I’m not a feedee, if that's what you thought.” Namjoon’s suspicions are right when he turns his head to look at Yoongi when he responds and sees the furrowed brow. And his own tone is no better, spiteful and protective. 

“Don’t get all defensive.” Yoongi isn’t looking away either. Leaning close enough Namjoon can see the specks of donut frosting collecting at the corners of his lips. The chair began to bend in Namjoon’s direction; accompanied by the melodic screeches of the metal and springs. It wouldn't be their first fight, they’ve been friends for decades after all. 

That's how he recognizes the dangerous smile that grows on Yoongi’s face. 

“You’re gaining like one.” He manages to say before the chair finishes tilting over to the side. Falling thunderously onto the floor, with Yoongi still on it. The noise of ft slapping his wooden floor almost loud enough as Yoongi’s pained groan. 

The tension dissipates as soon as it formed, as Namjoon pushes himself out of the wooden chair to lean and help Yoongi out and up. “Are you okay?” Yoongi’s pushing himself out by the armrest, trying to unsqueeze his fatty sides from the suffocating chair. 

“Y–Yeah… Yeah I’m okay.” He breathes out, face blushed, as Namjoon reaches behind him to pull the chair out of Yoongi too. Even if he can’t see his facial expression, Namjoon can pretty much hear the grimace when he asks. “Did it break?” 

“Don’t worry. It looks fine.” Chuckling seems like the only way to alleviate the tension, popping Yoongi out with a huff. It took a bit more effort than he thought it would, he is a little breathless. Tilting the chair back upright and giving it a tentative spin. “Yeah, looks alright-” His word is cut a little short when he sees Yoongi still on the ground. Their eyes meeting. 

“Help me up?” It's a bit of a pitiful sight. But Namjoon is glad to focus on something else. He wouldn’t say he is glad Yoongi tipped over, but the relief he feels from having escaped that conversation is very real in his chest. Nodding quickly as he squats down for Yoongi. Feeling his sweatpants squeeze him around the waistband as he takes the older’s hands. 

“Lets–” Namjoon has to concentrate not to tip over as well. He doesn’t want to think about what that says of his body. The waistband of his sweats cutting the air out of him. “Let’s sit you upright first.” He comments and Yoongi looks equally exhausted. Gripping Namjoon’s forearms as the younger tries to lift the weight of his huge torso up. Both of them grunting in effort just for Yoongi to sit upright. Belly making his thighs spread as the overhang sits comfily on the floor. 

“Now-Now the hard part.” Even through his laughter he is breathless. Just from that movement alone. Though Namjoon isn’t much better; he is actually doing some effort at least. Yoongi is just breathless from being tossed around; if you could even call it that. 

Miraculously almost, the front door opens. “Perfect timing.” He comments, eyeing the front door. 

“Yeah, you could barely sit me upright.” Yoongi snorts as Namjoon stands up straight again. Looking down at him with squinted eyes. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t call the fire department right away.” His foot pokes at the sagging overhang between Yoongi’s thighs. Pillowy and rippling through his entire stomach. “Jungkook-ah! Come here!” He yells, ignoring Yoongi’s weak swats at his foot. 

The loud thumps are clumsy throughout the apartment, a pink blush, dopey eyed Jungkook appearing on the doorway. Great, Taehyung got him drunk. 

“I’m here, I’m here…” Even in his sleepy waddles the apartment thumps, and Yoongi’s body jiggles with each one. “I told you to switch to a stronger chair, hyung.” He comments without a comment as he leans towards Yoongi. 

“He didn’t break it, he just tilted it over.” He rolls his eyes. “Can you help him?” The youngest is already squatting behind Yoongi, his rounded out bloat pressing to the backrolls of Yoongi’s back. Big hunky, yet pillowy arms appearing from under Yoongi’s fat winged ones. 

“Our Jungkookie is very strong.” Yoongi comments idly, earning a happy giggle from the man behind him. 

“I’ll try.''Jungkook's hand tentatively settled on the oldest’s chest, before groping it playfully. 

“Yah!” The giggles get louder as Jungkook groans, beginning to lift Yoongi’s weight. Hands genuinely sinking into the fat, by the sheer strength making him grope Yoongi’s sides. 

Namjoon himself a little too stunned, watching Jungkook’s thighs tremble. Mumbling a quiet ‘cooperate, hyung’ into Yoongi’s ear, before his chubby feet plant on the ground. Helping, if the sigh of relief Jungkook lets out is anything to go by. Taking slow backwards steps until he is setting Yoongi onto the bed ungracefully. 

“I could’ve done that myself.” He cups his belly to stop it from obviously wobbling at the impact. But Jungkook isn’t phased. 

“Maybe, but you got the full Jeon Jungkook service!” He beams, patting his hyung’s back maybe a bit too aggressively. “I’ll go to bed. But call me if there are any more incidents!” 

“There won’t be!” They both yell at the same time, causing one final giggle to bubble out of Jungkook’s chest as he exits to his room across the hallway. The sound of the door closing settling their fate in returning to the conversation they were having before. 

Where were they? 

Ah, of course. 

Talking about how much weight Namjoon apparently gained.

#namgi #obese min yoongi #limited mobility #teasing #tension #self awarness #weight gain denial #weight gain #kink talk #furtniture breaking

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 6

Baby Fever - Chapter 6

Series Summary: It all started with a classic case of baby fever

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+ Series

Warnings: Smut, anxiety mentions, and lots of sweetness

Word Count: 2,469

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. Hope this makes up for it.

xxx

You couldn't sleep and you couldn't understand why.

It had been several days since your last doctor's appointment during which Dr. Harrington had declared the hematoma healed, taking the huge weight off your shoulders that had been secretly crippling you for nearly an entire month. Ever since then you had been able to sleep nearly as soon as you hit the pillow, your mind blissfully free of the guilt and anxiety that had continued to plague you despite everyone in your life assuring you that it would be okay and that you weren't in any way at fault.

It made no sense that sleep was evading you that night. It was the weekend, and both you and Marcus had been off from work, so it had been peaceful, the most pleasant it had been in a long while, a reminder of one of the many reasons why you'd married him. Being with Marcus was easy. You got along better than any other couple you knew, and that wasn't a brag. It was just the truth. You couldn't remember the last time you'd had a true argument, one that lasted more than a minute and put sour thoughts in your head. You'd never gotten along better with anyone else. He was truly your safe haven.

As you pondered over what could be keeping your eyes open and your body fidgety, you reflected over the day's events. Eventually you ended up lingering on one detail - that you and Marcus had spent most of it watching movies, right up until bedtime.

You knew that could cause a disruption in sleep for some, most doctors recommending reading a book instead of watching anything on screen an hour before bed, but you'd done it plenty often, your whole life, and that had never been the case for you. Why would it be so that night?

You sighed and rolled from your left side to your right, adjusting your pillow again after. Your legs started to twitch, moving like they had a mind of their own, and you finally realized you were just restless. Wound up simply because you hadn't done much the last couple days, having stayed home, indoors, all weekend long.

You loved weekends like that, thrived off them really, but on occasion your body didn't, seeking action whether you wanted to move or not.

Staying in bed would not help it pass, so you did one of the few things that usually did. You slid out of bed and quietly paced the hall, stopping briefly in the kitchen before turning around to head back towards your bedroom.

Back and forth. Back and forth. You would've feared someone would think you were a mental patient pointlessly wandering the house, but there was no one to witness it, and more importantly it felt good to move, to dispense some of the pent up energy that had flared up in you.

"Honey, is everything alright?" you heard Marcus whisper from the dark hall as you turned around for a tenth time in the kitchen. You flinched even though he had been quiet in an attempt not to startle you.

You could just barely make out his face in the poorly lit room, the moon barely peeping through the back window.

"I'm alright," you replied softly. "Just feeling too energetic to sleep."

"Pacing helps?"

"Most of the time."

"Anything I can do?" he offered.

You shook your head. "Go back to bed. I won't keep this up much longer."

Hesitantly Marcus listened, heading for your bedroom as you resumed your march.

After a few more minutes you felt a lot better, so you decided to return to bed, mentally crossing your fingers that you'd quelled the need you had to be active.

Facing Marcus in bed, uncertain if he had fallen back asleep or just had his eyes closed, you watched him and waited. You thought maybe your eyes were heavier, but then your legs thrashed, as if they were resisting.

You ripped your pillow out from under your head and buried your face into it, barely resisting the urge to scream into it in frustration. You had to get up for work in seven hours, the last thing you wanted to do was fight with your limbs.

But if pacing didn't help...

"Marcus," you called out, jerking your mouth away from your pillow.

"Hmmm?"

"Moving around didn't work," you stated flatly.

"I guessed that much," he said quietly, "I can feel you next to me. Woke up to you thrashing around."

You grimaced. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," he mumbled.

"There's something else I think would work," you told him, slightly uncertain about it. Not because you weren't convinced, but because you weren't used to being quite this forward, even with him. "We could have sex."

Marcus popped up on his elbow almost immediately, both interested and surprised. "You think?"

"It's put me to sleep before," you answered, shrugging.

"I'm not sure that's a compliment," he teased, eyebrows hiking up.

You shoved him hard, but he barely budged, having braced for it, predicted it. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

Like it did for many other people, climaxing relaxed you, jellied your limbs, spiked hormones that left you in an almost dream like state. It was like taking a sleeping pill, but way more fun and healthier in your condition.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

A beat later he was up on his knees, slotted between your legs, arms bracing him above your body as his mouth slotted over yours. His kiss was attentive, but passionate. Slow, but more than a little bit needy.

It had been an unusually long while since you'd last slept together. Since before the emergency visit, both because you were afraid the activity might make things worst, and because you simply weren't in the mood.  

You were that night, warmth flooding your core as soon as he started to instinctively grind against you. You could feel him already thickening through his cotton sleepwear, a telltale sign he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, and it encouraged you.

You arched up against him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, consumed by the sensation of every brush of his body against yours and the drag of his fingertips as his hands explored your curves eagerly.

Eventually, somehow, you both managed to get your clothes removed and either chucked unceremoniously onto the floor or pushed into the bed sheets.

When the last item, one of his socks, had been kicked off, Marcus dropped back down on the bed, eyes glued to yours, hands on your thighs. "I'm all yours."

The offer was one that had become much more frequent since you'd become pregnant, Marcus understanding that your body had become more sensitive and that sex was often more comfortable for you if you went at your own pace. The thoughtfulness and the image of him on full display for you made you grin. "Better be."

The chuckle that escaped his lips at your reply was replaced by a hiss as you climbed on top of him, hands fanning over his stomach, and teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, hips rolling so it repeatedly nudged your clit.

His hands automatically flew to your chest, massaging your nipples until they peaked hard, until you keened into his touch with a sharp gasp. Your breasts had never been particularly responsive to touch, not enough to spike your pleasure anyway, but that had apparently changed dramatically since the last time he'd played with him. "Keep doing that," you demanded with a whine.

He beamed up at you, pleased to see that kind of reaction from you. "Your wish." My command.

It only took a couple minutes or so of his thumbs skating over your peaks and you pressing his tip against your most sensitive spot before you found yourself thoroughly wet and ready.

You finally allowed yourself to sink down onto him and, with a grunt, he reached out to grip you firmly on your hips to steady you as he filled you up. Your eyes met then and didn't wander until you started to move.

Marcus didn't do much but observe you for a time, almost like he was entranced by your beauty as you slid up and down on him, riding him at a steady pace. Soft groans emitted from him whenever you dropped yourself so that he was deep in you, all the way to the hilt, but otherwise he was mostly quiet as he watched you. Soaking you in, being patient.

Then you began to speed up, starting to feel the ache within you steadily growing, to the point the urge to reach nirvana was impossible to resist, and he took the opportunity to join in, his hips gently bucking into you, making you moan.

"Fuck, I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured breathlessly in response to the sound.

"I'm lucky too," you groaned, eyelids beginning to droop as you concentrated on how good everything felt when you canted your hips just so.

In no time at all you were convulsing around him, gasping out his name, and he grunted as he emptied inside you, eyelids low, but eyes still open enough to see the way you pitched forward over him.

Afterwards he helped guide you off him, making sure you landed softly on the mattress beside him, his eyes following, warm and fond.

"Think you'll sleep well now?" he whispered, pinching your chin between two of his fingers and turning your face up towards his, eyes full of love for you.

You curled your lips. "Even if I don't, zero regrets."

"That good, huh?" he probed jokingly.

You laughed and planted a hand on his bare chest. "Goodnight, Marcus," you said sternly, patting him a few times. You gave him a final peck on the cheek and flipped over so you were facing away from him.

"Night," he returned, wrapping an arm over your shoulder, securing your back against his chest.

You waited patiently for sleep to overtake you, listening as his breaths steadied, and you found yourself envying how easy it was for him to nod off.

It took a few minutes longer, but your eyes were finally threatening to close completely when you felt a strange light fluttering within your abdomen, an inch or so below your belly button. Like the beating of very tiny wings.

It took your sleep deprived mind nearly a full minute to deduce that it wasn't just gas or something weird your body was doing, but rather your baby shifting around, and you suddenly forgot your desperate want to rest.

You rolled onto your back and pressed your right hand instinctively against the spot on your small bump above the motion inside you, mouth slack as you focused on it, nothing short of amazed.

Quickening, Dr. Harrington had called it. Those first movements that would be strong enough to be felt. She'd told you at your last visit that you'd most likely be able to notice them within the next few weeks, but for some reason you hadn't thought it would be so soon after that appointment.

"Is everything alright?" Marcus inquired, concern evident in his drowsy voice. "Still can't sleep?"

He'd woken up again as soon as you'd turned onto your back. You felt a flicker of guilt, he also had work the next day, but it was something worth waking him up for anyway.

"I was on my way to dreaming," you told him, craning your neck to study his handsome features in the dim light of the room through watering eyes, "But I think the dream came to me instead."

He gave you a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"

"I can feel the baby, Marcus," you said joyfully, a tear escaping the corner of your left eye. "Our baby."

After your scare a month ago that moment was all the more precious to you. You had needed this. A developmental milestone that would convince you once and for all that everything was truly okay again, and one that also would make you feel truly connected to them for the first time. Like an idea becoming palpable.

Marcus prompted himself up in bed and anchored his left hand on your hip farthest away from him, his forearm brushing against the top of your right hand as it crossed over your stomach. He beamed down at you, glancing between your face and your bump in rapid succession, like he had half expected to be able to see it, even though it was still way too early for that. "Really?"

"I wouldn't play about this," you assured him, raising a pinky up to him in offering. Your pinky swears had never been broken, even when you were a teenager.

He barked a laugh, eyes wide with wonder. "I didn't mean...I just...wow. How does it feel?"

You smiled warmly at his excited reaction, his earnest question. "Like Dr. Harrington said. Like a fluttering of wings. Barely there, but definitely there." Your breath hitched a little at the end of your sentence. "I can't describe how good it feels. To know for sure that..." You trailed off, unable to continue that train of thought. It would only make you sob, and you didn't want to do that. Not then.

Marcus understood what you meant though, and he leaned over to kiss you on your lips as his hand swept over your belly to rest on top of yours. "Everything's alright. More than alright."

You nodded fervently and the love you had for him bloomed in your chest. He knew you better than anyone else ever had.  

He rested his forehead against the side of your head. "They're tough like their mom."

You wondered when your heart would stop soaring whenever he called you by the title mom. You hoped not anytime soon. "Yep."

He chuckled at your unexpectedly short reply and pulled away just enough to softly kiss your temple, his lips nearly tickling you. "Try to get some sleep."

You shifted back onto your side. "Tell your kid that. They're still going at it." It was kinda crazy how one moment you hadn’t noticed anything, then the next you had, and then it had been all you could notice since.

"Oh, now they're mine."

You grinned widely as he shook his head. "That's how it works."

He tried to appear annoyed, but Marcus's eyes gave away his amusement. "Naturally."

You both got comfortable again and you waited for sleep once more, but this time it finally snatched you, the consistent little motions inside you actually helping lull you into unconsciousness.

It was the very last thing you were aware of before you drifted off.

xxx

Tagged: @amy172 , @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#Marcus Pike Fanfic (Mine) #X Reader #Baby Fever Series

[draguta]

.fairytale of new york | ten.

pairing: professor!bucky x fem!reader

summary: a semester in new york. a handsome man in a bar. whiskey neat. to the lighthouse. christmas lights. this is the tale of a whirlwind romance. a forbidden fairytale. college au.

chapter word count: 2295

warnings: age gap (reader 19, bucky 34), student/teacher relationship

a/n: here it is guys, the final chapter of fairytale of new york! an epilogue will be out in two days, so make sure you keep an eye out for that!

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Y/N

The drive home to Elmdale was long, much too long. The traffic heading out of the city was relentless, drawing the drive out even longer, meaning that you simply had more time in your own head, more time to ponder over what had happened, and mourn the loss of Bucky.

Yelena, who had taken Bucky's place on your trip, tried to keep you entertained during the drive, having chosen to take the wheel so that you could relax, singing off-key to every song that came on shuffle and regaling you with stories of her party antics, but it didn't work, as much as you wished it would. Your mind kept wandering to Bucky, to the girl - Dot - in his kitchen, and to the look of guilt on his face.

When the pair of you finally arrived outside your parents house you immediately rushed to your childhood bedroom and closed the door, barely even saying 'hello' to your family, leaving Yelena to fend for herself.

A week passed by quickly, and Christmas approached. Your family kept trying to drag you into family activities, hoping to cheer you up.

"Why don't you come to the Christmas Market with me?" Your mum would ask.

"Or maybe we could take the dog for a walk?" Your dad would suggest.

"Christmas movie marathon?" Was your older brother's proposal.

You always went with them and joined in, not wanting to upset them during the holidays, but your heart wasn't really in it, and it was clear that they knew that. You hadn't told them what had happened, you didn't even tell Yelena until the night before Christmas Eve.

She had come into you room where you were sat in bed, watching a crappy Christmas movie on Netflix, although you hadn't really been paying attention, your mind focused on the last conversation that you'd had with Bucky.

"So, are you planning to tell me what's going on?" She asked from the doorway, ripping your thoughts away and bringing you back to reality. When you didn't immediately answer she moved to position herself in your bed beside you, pulling the covers up to keep her warm. "What happened between you and Professor Barnes?"

In all honesty, you were embarrassed, ashamed that you had ever let yourself fall into that trap in the first place. But as Yelena pushed, begging you to tell her, you finally let it spill from your lips.

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, letting out everything that you had been holding to yourself for the past week. Her expression was that of shock and sympathy as you continued to tell the story, even letting slip that you had brought his present with you because for a second, when you had been getting ready to leave the next day, you had completely forgotten what had happened, until it hit you again as soon as you sat down in the car.

"I'm so sorry," was all Yelena could say, and you shrugged, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"You know the stupidest part?" You continued. "I actually thought that this was the one that was going to last. That this was real, that I was important to him. I guess not."

You choked back a sob, but as soon as Yelena wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug, you began to weep, unable to hold it back any longer. The pair of you sat like that for most of the night, your head resting on her shoulder, until you both finally fell asleep.

Christmas Eve was usually your favourite time of year; the anticipation, the festivities, the magical feeling of knowing that Christmas was only one sleep away. But you didn't feel very festive that year. You curled up on the sofa, your family and Yelena long asleep already. You held a cup of tea in your hands to warm them from the cold, the fire blazing in the hearth. The lights were turned off, but the golden glow from the Christmas tree in the corner was enough to light the room as you sat there, absentmindedly watching 'Elf', waiting for the moment that sleep would take over and you'd finally be able to head to bed.

You took a sip of your tea, glancing out of the window at the snowy landscape. Elmdale may be a small town with not much going on, but during winter time it was truly beautiful. The moon was bright in the sky, an almost unhindered view of the stars visible to you even through the window. The orange beams of the street lamps shone down onto the country road outside, bouncing off the sheet of thick white snow that had fallen throughout the day, illuminating the figure that stood on the other side of the street.

You froze, sitting up in your seat to get a better look at the figure. They were looking directly through the window, straight at you, and as they took a step forward into the light, you were able to make out the features of their face.

Within a second you were on your feet, rushing out into the snow, your slippers doing little to keep your feet warm in the snow, the thin jumper that fell to you mid-thigh barely protecting you from the cold.

"Y/N."

"Bucky, what are you doing here?" You asked when you finally reached him, looking up at him. His blue eyes twinkled in the street lamp - he looked tired, almost as tired as you knew you also looked.

"I-I couldn't go another day without seeing you," he said quietly. "Without explaining."

You sighed, shaking your head as you brought your arms to wrap around your body. "I think it's too late for that Bucky."

"Please." It sounded almost like a beg, as if he were pleading for you to just listen to him, even for a second. Slowly you nodded, looking up at him again as he prepared himself to explain. "I didn't sleep with Dot."

Your heart hurt at the sound of her name, at the memory of her looking you up and down as she introduced herself as if she were judging every inch of you, of finding out that Bucky had told her about you.

"I swear I didn't," he continued, running a hand through his hair, a tell-tale sign that he was stressed. "She's an old hook-up, someone that I used to see whenever she was in town. She showed up at my door, soaked through from the snow. I gave her a dry shirt to wear and a drink to warm her up, and as soon as she was changed and feeling better, I explained that it wouldn't happen this time because of you. She completely understood, and had already booked a hotel and called an Uber when you arrived. Nothing happened, Dot means nothing to me, not like you do."

You paused, squinting your eyes slightly in surprise. You wanted to trust him, you really did, but you couldn't be certain, after everything that had taken place, that he was telling the truth.

"I told her all about you, how amazing you are," he kept going. "I told her that I didn't want anyone else but you. How I've already applied for a position at NYU so that we can be together, because you're more important than anythin-"

"You applied to transfer to NYU?" You interrupted, astonished.

"Yes," Bucky smiled. "And I got accepted. I start after winter break."

"Y-You did that for me?" You couldn't quite wrap your head around it, that he would give up his position at SHIELD Institute for you.

"Of course I did," he replied, placing his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer slightly. "I would do anything for you. I love you."

You felt as if you could cry once again, but this time for a completely different reason. He had said the three words that you had been waiting, hoping, to hear. You couldn't stop yourself from reaching up, wrapping your arms around his neck, and planting a kiss to his lips. He melted into the kiss, melted into you, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

"I love you too," you said with a smile as you pulled away. It was him that instigated the kiss this time, smiling against your lips happily. When the pair of you were suitably out of breath, you parted, and Bucky reached down, bringing your hands into his.

"You're so cold, doll," he said, planting a warming kiss to your knuckles. He quickly removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders, before you reached for his hand again, guiding him to your home.

"What's going on?" Your dad's voice sounded from the top of the stairs as you and Bucky made your way inside, closing the door behind you. "Who the hell is this?"

You beamed up at your parents, who stood on the top step of the staircase, your brother hovering behind them, Yelena leaning against the wall with a smile, all of them looking down at you and Bucky. You chuckled, glancing at Bucky before looking back at your parents.

"This is Bucky," you said with a smile. "My boyfriend."

Your family quickly rushed down the stairs, bustling you and Bucky into the kitchen and seating you at the dining table. Your mum whipped up a mug of hot chocolate for everyone, and the whole family, plus Yelena, crowded around the table. They fell into conversation easily, as they always did, asking how you and Bucky had met, to which you replied in a bar, and your dad had warned you against dating drinkers. Thankfully, Bucky knew that he was joking, and had laughed aloud with the rest of your family, squeezing your hand under the table.

Not long after they began throwing questions in Bucky's direction. For a second worry grew in the pit of your stomach - what if they didn't like him? What if he accidentally let slip that he was your teacher? But Bucky answered every question with ease, almost as if it were natural to him.

"Where are you from Bucky?" You mum asked, leaning forward in her seat towards him.

"New York born and bred," Bucky explained, taking a sip of his drink. "Besides college in DC, I've always lived in New York."

"And what do you do now?" Your dad asked, raising a brow at him. Bucky threw a concerned glance to you, but quickly recovered.

"I work in the education sector," he said with a flash of his charming smile, pushing his glasses up his nose just slightly.

"Ah good!" You dad beamed. "A very respectable job."

"Did you know that you're the first guy that Y/N's ever brought home?" Your brother piped up, motioning to you. Bucky frowned, looking at you with a smirk.

"Is that so?" He chuckled, and you could feel the blush rising on your cheeks.

An hour or so later everyone retreated back to bed due to the late hour, but you and Bucky decided to stay. You watched your family make their way upstairs and caught, for a second, as your mum leaned in to talk to Yelena.

"He's cute," she said with a smile, glancing back over her shoulder, causing Yelena to laugh.

"That is right," she chuckled, throwing a wink at you. "You could even say he is a hotty."

You chuckled, finally cuddling up on the couch with Bucky and watching the end of the movie that you had been watching when he had arrived.

"Your family is nice," Bucky said finally, his fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns on your shoulder as you snuggled closer to his chest.

"I think they like you," you smiled up at him, the movie quickly forgotten. "They like people that they can joke around with."

"Is it true that I'm the first guy you've ever brought home?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You giggled slightly, glad to finally be back to normal with him, as if everything had fallen into place exactly, no cracks, no seams, just perfection.

"That is true," you laughed.

"And why is that?" He chuckled, but you simply shrugged.

"No one else was ever important enough."

Bucky beamed.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Bucky said, sitting up and leaning down to reach into his bag. "I got you a present."

You jumped to your feet quickly. "So did I, wait here."

You rushed up to your room, rooting through your suitcase until you found the little wrapped book, running back down to the living room and falling into the couch beside him. With a smile you exchanged presents with him.

Your fingers slid under the wrapping paper of his gift to you, pulling it open gently. As you removed the paper, you turned the gift over in your hand, recognizing immediately the same sky-blue leather and hand-painted gold borders. You looked up, catching his eye, and the pair of you fell into a fit of laughter. You had bought each other the exact same book.

You hand trailed over the hand-painted golden lettering on the front cover.

A complete history of Halley's Comet.

"Let me guess," Bucky chuckled. "Cogito Books?"

"Exactly," you laughed in response. You leaned forward, placing a quick kiss to his lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

From the corner of your eye you saw a tag attached to the wrapping paper that you had just ripped away. You picked it up, plucking the tag from the paper and opening it to read the words written in his scrawl.

To Y/N, My Everything. Merry Christmas. Love, your Professor, Bucky.

| @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer | @moonlightreader649 | @stormy-stardust |

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