#it was down the road from me i could walk to it

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 11)

first chapter >> last chapter

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Your heart could very well have stopped beating and you’d be none the wiser.

By now, you’ve experienced fear in all its varietals. The stomach churning and the latent, the languid; the swift moving silverfish slipping out of your grasp. The monstrous rising beast of it the day you turned around to find the master of the house turning the lock on the door and trapping you in with him. Then the delayed panic in the aftermath of bringing the bust down over his head and hearing his skull crack under its weight, the blood pooling around his body, almost aureole-like. Pondering the miraculous like, well, isn’t that just the devil of it. A halo for a man intent on your ruin.

 The fear washing over you now is entirely new though. Like a rapid exhalation. Of course you were right all along . Right to expect the devil showing up on your doorstep. The weeks of silence had imbued you with a sense of confidence. An arrogant, undeserved confidence that whispered in your ear to let your guard down. 

But you know now that the world is not large enough to hide in. It is a wasteland of false prophets and false directions. There are no second chances.

The only consolation is the silence from the man behind the counter as he studies the warrant. You imagine him standing there giving it a good once over, his face maybe scrunching up as it calls to mind the woman that just walked through his door. You wonder if they thought to add a sketch of your likeness, whether there’ll be a woman on the warrant that looks an awful lot like you. 

You stay put behind the shelf though, not risking so much as a peep. 

“Any information you might have would be much obliged,” Graves says, trying to coax an answer out.

After a few more seconds, the shop attendant answers with a rueful, “Can’t say I have, sir. You want me to leave this with the sheriff?”

Graves breathes out through his nose in frustration. “Now, are you positive about that? Take a closer look—I don’t mind waitin’ a bit longer for you to sift through your memories. I’m sure a town as big as this must get passersby from time to time.”

“No. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m certain. Never seen a woman fitting this description or name. Couldn’t even tell you the last time we had a stranger come through town and stay longer than a day.”

“I see.” It’s hard to tell whether Graves takes him at his word or not. The aura of menace that the man exudes suggests that anything said to him might rouse his suspicions. That they’ve already been roused, in fact. It makes even you second guess the man behind the counter, wondering if perhaps he knows and simply stays his tongue. 

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Still want me to pass this along to the sheriff?”

The floorboards creak under his feet when Graves takes a step back. “If you don’t mind. Been having the darndest time tryin’ to track down the man and, frankly, I’ve got other obligations. I do appreciate your time though.”

You stay hidden behind the shelf, listening to the sound of the spurs on his boots rattling as he leaves. The chime on the door jingles when it slams shut. You flinch at the sound. For a minute after his departure, you wonder if the door will burst back open and he’ll come crashing in, heading straight for the back to haul you out by your hair.  

A minute passes and nothing happens. The floor beneath you still feels like it might give out at any moment.

When you take your first step, the nausea comes rushing up. 

“Mrs. Price,” the shop attendant says, perking up at the sight of you coming out from behind the shelf. “I forgot you were still here.”

You feel like an automaton or a ball-jointed doll, your movements stiff as you approach him. Morbidly curious as to what you’ll see on the warrant spread out on the counter separating the two of you. When you look down, your breath comes shuddering out. 

The sketch on the paper does bear a passing resemblance to you, but only if you squint. Nothing that anyone could point to and claim with certainty that it depicts you. Underneath the sketch, you balk when you see your real name. It’s jarring to even look at. Though you’ve gone most of your life answering to it, the past few weeks have disabused you of any connection to it. Now, you feel permeable, malleable—a substance that has been reshaped into something new. That girl on the warrant is gone now. Done and dusted. So detached from memory that even the sketch of her depicts someone else, proves false. 

Still, you’re shaken by how close he’d gotten. Supposing Graves had come in while you’d been within sight. Supposing he’d looked you in the eye and asked you directly, and you’d stuttered under his sharklike gaze and drawn further scrutiny. You almost can’t believe how close it’d grazed you. The sharp edge of fate like a blade now sheathed again. 

“Would you mind taking this to the sheriff?” he asks, not realizing the gift he’s given you. “I’m a bit tied up minding the shop.”

You nod wordlessly and take the folded up warrant from him.

It burns red hot in your hands when you step outside. You glance around nervously, unsure as to whether Graves had stuck around to question more people. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were still within earshot. 

You waver in the street with the folded piece of paper tucked in your hands. A horse pulling along a cart laden with firewood creaks as it passes, rousing you from the trance you’d fallen into. You flinch, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s blinding suddenly. A clear sky, the clouds long since taken away by the wind. 

John could be anywhere at this time of day. Despite the fear curdling in your belly, you can’t help the knee jerk reaction to go to him. That’s precisely what you don’t want to do though. You don’t want to be around the county sheriff on the day a bounty hunter came into town looking for you. 

A crow sitting on the roof of a building across the street caws and flaps its wings, taking off into the sky. 

You want to be anywhere but in town waiting anxiously for John to come find you. You don’t want to lay eyes on him and see that he’s found you out. The thought of John finding out about the man you killed back east is beyond contemplation. It nearly has you keeling over in the middle of the street. You can hardly bear the thought. How could you bear to live a moment beyond that, withering under his disapproval? His contempt? 

You don’t think you can.

Every shadow fills you with dread. A barmaid comes out to toss a bucket of dirty water in the alley and you flinch like you’ve been caught. You keep your head down as you walk, eyes straight on the ground. Someone calls out your fake name and you ignore them. 

Your instinct, as usual, is to run. Abscond from the scene of the crime. Even if the thought hurts. Even though you’d let yourself begin to hope that the times of trouble had passed you by. That perhaps you could’ve made a home out here in the middle of nowhere. You should have known that those dreams were just that. You should have known better than to want. These days, it is dangerous to long for anything.

It’s better if you fade from memory like a bad dream, you think when you spot Buttercup fixed to the post outside the sheriff’s office. Better if they think of you with a bad taste in their mouth and nothing more. A girl that came and stole their sheriff’s heart and his horse and then vanished into the night. 

When one of her black eyes fixes on you, you still in your advance. A horse can’t possibly read your intentions, but you feel like she does somehow. Like she knows you intend to take her and flee. She shifts, hooves coming up and back down, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth suddenly, nerves taking on. You won’t let yourself be ruled by them though. There are bigger things to fear.  

“Come on, Buttercup,” you whisper, hesitating before smoothing your hand down her nose. You flinch when she nickers. “I just—I need you to help me, okay?”

It’s an outrageously bad idea. Even to you that’s obvious. You don’t have nearly enough experience riding solo or even with John trailing behind you on another horse to help offer correction if you falter on your own. You’re blinded by fear though, practically shaking as you undo Buttercup’s lead from the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

You’re clumsy trying to hoist yourself up onto her without John to boost you up and hold you steady. It takes a couple of tries before you manage to swing your leg over, and you curse under your breath when your dress bunches up around your waist, exposing the bare flesh of your legs. There aren’t many people roaming the street, fortunately for you.

Buttercup resists at first when you tug lightly on the reins to guide her away. She stomps her foot when you try again, giving a light whinny. Panic seizes you, a coil in your belly. You’ve only ever ridden her before with John at your side; you wonder if she’ll even listen to you in his absence or if even she can tell you’re about to do something foolish and wants nothing to do with it. 

“Please, girl,” you beg. “I promise—I’ll figure out some way to get you back.”

On the third attempt, she finally listens. The way she abruptly breaks into a fast trot nearly sends you toppling over. You catch yourself by clutching the horn, tight enough that your knuckles ache. Your forehead breaks out in a nervous sweat. Buttercup covers ground fast, and without John sitting behind you like a silent sentinel, you feel control slip out of your slippery hands, clammy with sweat too. 

“Whoa, girl,” you breathe, trying to calm her by stroking a hand down her neck. 

It does precious little to calm her down. You remember something John once said about animals smelling fear. They know it like your name. 

You lose control of her fast. Almost in the blink of an eye, you go from steering Buttercup towards John’s house to holding on for dear life. Your body rocks with hers and you’re forced to tighten your thighs around her midsection when she breaks into a gallop, your hands still clinging tight to the reins. Her hooves kick up dust and dirt in her haste, sending it flying behind you. 

“Slow down!” you shout, but the words are swept away by the wind, already behind you. 

Not once have you ever ridden a horse at this speed. Your direction seems like more of a suggestion to Buttercup, and not one she’s inclined to take. The town rapidly vanishes behind you, the vegetation sparse for the first few hundred yards, arid scrubland scorched by the sun and fed off of by the horses and mules coming in and out of town. The sun beats down hot on your head, no hat to shield you from the heat.

You can’t imagine you would’ve been able to hold it down though, you think wildly, mind still in a flurry of panic. It would’ve flown right off ages before. 

Your breath comes out in hitched pants as you clutch with all your might to the horn of the saddle, your hands soon transferring to her mane for better purchase. Buttercup moves like a rogue wave beneath you, like something sailors only speak about in hushed whispers. She takes a wide arc around John’s property, heading towards the mountains instead, and no amount of trying to steer her with your legs seems to work. 

Your head whips back to watch the house pass, the dark shape of it sailing past you, and it nearly causes you to lose your balance. Looking back in front of you only makes it worse. Panic courses through you when you stare ahead only for the world in front of you to spin. Bile creeps up your throat. You swallow it back, but only just.

The half-formulated plan you’d had in mind is long gone. All you can focus on now is remaining astride the horse beating dirt under you. Any thought of bringing her to a halt dissipates. Even the thought of escape evaporates into thin air. 

Only when you feel Buttercup slow to a trot do you peel open your eyes. The breath you let out as you look around is short, panic still churning in your guts.

Over the weeks since John married you and took you home, he’s taken you through the mountains a fair few times, familiarizing you with the land to the best of his abilities in such a short amount of time. But the wilderness stretches far and the terrain beyond John’s homestead is rough, treacherous. 

When you look around, you realize that you don’t recognize this part of the mountainside. 

The trail Buttercup takes you down is cut haphazard into the landscape—a crude, handmade path, not one seared into the ground from frequent travel. It feels distinctly wilder than where you’ve been before. Your head swivels around as you try to look for something that might jog your memory. The striated mountainside tells you nothing. The trees out this deep into the mountains are thicker and older, gnarled root systems bursting up from the earth and coiling around the nearby rocks like snakes winding around their prey. 

You sit up a bit straighter, still shaking when you rub your hand down Buttercup’s neck. “You know where we are, girl?”

She puffs out a breath.

That tells you nothing, but she keeps going down the same path deeper into the woods. No amount of squeezing your thighs or patting her neck gets her to stop. You should be thankful that she’s at least no longer sprinting, that you can actually sit up and catch your breath now, but the fear from earlier is but a paltry shadow compared to that which is brewing in you now. 

Every crick and snapping twig makes your head spin round. You stare intensely past the treeline, searching for the barest hint of motion. You don’t know much about these parts, but you know that this is no place for a woman by her lonesome. Even a man on his own out here might feel jumpy. This far out of the way, only cougars and bears take refuge, and the odd band of outlaws making camp for the night and taking advantage of the relative isolation this far out west. 

“Come on, girl, we can’t be out here,” you whisper, leaning closer to Buttercup to hopefully muffle your voice. Even as low as you speak, it still seems to echo.

You don’t know where you’re meant to go though. In the flurry of panic that had come over you at Graves’ arrival, you’d bolted without thought. Without a compass or map, you’re as good as lost in the unsettled land deep in the mountains. 

As that reality dawns on you, you realize that you haven’t had a drink of water in quite some time. 

An hour must pass with Buttercup stubbornly refusing to listen to your commands to turn back. Maybe longer. She resists even when you pull on the reins. In truth, you don’t blame her. Your commands come feeble, no strength behind them. The fear of being bucked off her back makes you soft. John would be gruff, unyielding—you can’t imagine him giving into fear.

That somehow upsets you even more. You can’t help but wish more than anything that he were here with you. 

The temperature drops as the sun begins to set. Without the sun beating down on you, you shiver in the cold air. There’s nothing to keep you warm other than the clothes on your back. Your lips smack when you part them, parched after hours without water. You haven’t stumbled across a river or stream in the hours since starting down this path.

Then, from behind you, you hear it. 

The name that isn’t yours. You don’t catch it at first until it comes again, louder this time. When you look over your shoulder and down the path behind you, John’s furious face stares back at you, his lips worked into a flat line. 

The way you gasp must spook Buttercup, because she abruptly breaks into a gallop, forcing you to hunker down and hold on. You want desperately to look back, torn between relief and distress, but you stare ahead instead. 

The black horse he rides gains on you fast, legs pumping beneath its massive body. It’s not a horse you’ve seen before. Maybe borrowed in his haste to chase after you. You don’t let yourself digest that thought though, too concerned with remaining astride. 

Despite its size, it collapses the distance between you two quickly, nearly on you now. Instinct has you leaning into Buttercup, trying to get as low as possible and let the air glide around you. Her gallop quickens into a sprint. You’re just holding on now, facing straight ahead, no chance of being more than a passenger on this trip. 

John shouts at you from your rear to bring Buttercup to a stop. You squeeze your lips together instead of shouting back that you can’t. If you open your mouth, you think your stomach will come straight out. 

Your body jostles around on top of your horse, on the verge of slipping off with every passing second. When she takes a turn too quickly down a trail leading up into the mountains and you slide a bit to one side on the saddle, only your foot in the stirrup catching you, your heart stops. Fear is ice inverted; poured over you. It drenches you in another layer of sweat that dries rapidly in the air whipping around you. 

Hot and cold. The ground seems to come towards you every time Buttercup’s legs kick up. Always on the verge of falling and breaking every bone in your body. You suck your tongue to the roof of your mouth so it doesn’t get caught between your clacking teeth and bitten right off. 

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the cacophony of stomping hooves. 

A glance to your right finds him close enough to graze with your fingertips. Your heart jumps in your chest.

“Pull up!” he shouts again, but all you can do is stare uncomprehendingly. 

You don’t know if he can see the terror in your eyes. It must be splayed clean across your face. He has to see the way his words mean nothing to you. Your panic effaces any meaning; all you hear is noise and anger pouring from his mouth, and trampled dirt and labored breath. 

When his horse pulls up alongside yours, he gets close enough to lean over and snatch the reins out of your hands. He pulls firm, tugging Buttercup’s head back until she almost rears up and you scream, hands fisting in her mane. 

Your body lurches forward when she comes back down, slumped over the saddle horn. It digs hard into your stomach. There’ll be a bruise there come morning, but nothing like the bruises that’ll bloom between your thighs. Even now the ache radiates down your body. You look up at the sound of John’s breath panting out like a bull, and he glares down at you with undisguised fury, the angriest you’ve ever seen him. 

“What in the blazes were you thinkin’?” he booms. Even the horse he sits astride shakes its head at the sound. “There’s nothing out here but outlaws and predators!”

The hand fisted in Buttercup’s reins pulls her closer, and he guides both horses into a slow trot and then to a stop. You can feel the way Buttercup’s ribs expand and contract under your legs. 

“Stop it— don’t touch me!” you snap when he reaches for you, smacking his hand away.

“Darlin’, if you get off that damned horse—” John warns, but you’re already swinging your leg over the saddle as the words come out of his mouth. 

You almost trip over the stirrup when you slide off Buttercup’s back and take off on foot. You fist the skirt of your dress in both hands to lift it as you run, letting it swish around you with the force of your strides. A curse and grunt come from back behind you. The sound of John’s boots hitting the dirt is loud, and when he chases after you, his boots pound into the earth.  

It’s a desperate last move, but all you can think is that you’d rather be anywhere else but in his arms. You’d rather take your chances with the wolves and bears in the woods, or with the bandits and brigands on the trails leading to the next town. 

You barely make it past the next tree before he barrels into you and takes you both to the ground, the world spinning as you fall down. He angles his body to take the brunt of the impact, but you still cry out when your hip hits the ground hard. The way he pulls you into his chest just barely keeps your head from slamming into a rock. 

“Goddamn it, woman,” John spits. “Where d’ya think you’re even going? There ain’t nowhere to run out here!”

Your head spins. When you open your mouth, all you can taste is rust and salt, sweat dripping off your upper lip. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back and he doesn’t give you a chance to gather your bearings before hauling you to your feet, tugging both of your arms behind your back. 

“Let me go!” you scream, trying to wrestle out of his hold to no avail. 

You know he doesn’t understand, but you can’t help the way you try to fight your way out of his hold. There’s no explanation that’ll make sense to him other than the truth, which you clamp tight in your chest. There's no telling if he already knows, if maybe Graves finally tracked him down or if someone else brought their suspicions to his attention, but you won't go spilling the truth yourself. 

He’s a solid mass behind you, breath labored from hours spent tracking you. You wonder if he noticed mere moments after you took Buttercup and left or whether he came back to the sheriff’s office only to find the two of you gone. 

John holds your wrists in one big hand at the small of your back and gives you a mean shake. “I don’t know what’s got you so riled up, but you better fix this attitude of yours and explain yourself before we get home or so help me God, I’ll take my belt to your ass.”

The mention of him belting your backside makes your hands go clammy, but you must have abandoned your common sense a mile back because your mouth keeps running. “I’ll gut you like a pig if you touch a hair on my head!” 

“We’ll just see about that,” he grunts, and you can hear the raw edged smirk in his voice and the anger behind it. 

When he leads you stumbling towards the horses waiting in the middle of the trail, you realize that capture had always been an inevitability in your mind. Maybe it even comes as a relief to know that the jig is up. 

You just hadn’t realized that it would be someone else hauling you back by your hair.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price x you #price x reader #john price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you

[sunkissed-zegras]

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄? ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | requested! -> "can u pleaseeee write a fic with paige & a cheerleader at uconn ?? something cute like post game ritual, like going out to each or something"

─ word count | 1.2k

─ warnings | slightly suggestive (no smut tho), very flirty paige cus she's the rizzler, sweet fluffy things, some teasing and established relationship! nothing else, enjoy!

─ taglist | taglist in my navigation!

─ ev's notes | im on such a paige kick rn so please send me some requests and you shall receive!

"─ I KNEW WERE GOING TO WIN AFTER THAT," PAIGE EXPLAINED enthusiastically as you listened intently, a small grin playing on your face as you did so.

Your girlfriend walked in front of you as she told you everything and anything that was going on in her mind, her adrenaline still pumping from the game that had ended almost an hour ago. She was just rambling excitedly and of course you didn't mind, you actually enjoyed it thoroughly.

You were cheering on the sidelines the entire night and your arms were so sore, they were after every game. Paige carried your pom-pom's for you as you finally walked out of the arena, you could barely even feel your feet at this point.

Despite feeling the exhaustion of the entire night on your shoulders, it dissipated as you watched Paige. You didn't even feel tired anymore as the cool air hit you. The night air felt crisp against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the heated atmosphere of the arena.

"But Coach was mad because I kept looking at you during the game. It's not my fault you showed up looking that good, I mean Jesus. I will never get used to how sexy you look in the uniform." Paige rambled as her eyes looked at you up and down, you felt your cheeks get warmer. Her admiration was always flattering, and you found yourself blushing slightly under her gaze.

No matter how many times Paige showered you with compliments, it'll never get old. "Well, I can't help it if I distract you," you teased, returning her gaze with a warm smile. "But you're the sexy one, trust me."

"Yeah, I guess so." Paige shrugged as she began walking backwards so she could face you. "I'm the sexy one and you're the pretty one, that's how this works, right?"

"What works? Liking girls?" You tried to clarify as you laughed, shaking your head.

Paige chuckled and shook her head. "I meant, you know, the whole dynamic. I'm the sexy athlete, and you're the pretty cheerleader,"

You let out a huff of laughter as you reached her car, Paige joining in a few seconds later. "Oh, I see what you're getting at," you said with a playful smirk as you leaned against her car. "Well, if that's the case, then I'm the lucky cheerleader who gets to support her amazing baller girlfriend."

Paige smirked, unlocking the car and holding the door open for you. "And I'm the lucky baller who gets to have the prettiest cheerleader by her side."

With a laugh, you climbed into the car, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as Paige joined you in the driver's seat. As she started the engine, you leaned over to press a quick kiss to her cheek as her hands slid down to your thigh and squeezed it.

You leaned back into the passenger seat as Paige kept her hand on your thigh, driving with one hand. God, she really was sexy. She felt your gaze as her lips curved into cocky smirk but she kept her eyes on the road. You let yourself relax into the moment, enjoying the sensation of Paige's touch against your skin.

You reached your apartment building, the drive feeling all too short. As Paige parked the car, she finally turned to meet your gaze, the playful smirk still on her lips.

"You okay there, beautiful?" she teased, her voice low as you met her eyes.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her cocky demeanor, feeling a surge of affection for the confident woman beside you. "More than okay," you replied, your voice soft with affection.

Paige's smirk softened into a tender smile, and she leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. The warmth of her touch sent a rush of electricity through you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the game ended.

You both pulled away and she let out a small laugh as you pressed another kiss on her cheek. You opened your eyes and let out a little laugh as you saw some of your lipstick had transferred to her lips and cheek.

Chuckling softly at the sight of your lipstick on Paige's lips and cheek, you reached up to gently wipe it away with your thumb, your touch lingering on her skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"There we go," you said with a smile, admiring the smudge-free result. "Can't have you walking around looking like you just won a makeout session instead of a game."

Paige laughed, leaning into your touch. "Wouldn't mind winning that too," she teased, her voice low and playful. She leaned away as she finally turned her ignition off with a yawn. She gestured for you to get out of the car and you both got out.

She grabbed your hand as you both walked up to your apartment. Once inside, Paige led you up the stairs, the familiarity of the surroundings comforting as you reached your door.

She opened the door and you threw her stuff on the ground with a tired huff. It was a routine you were both accustomed to, and one that always brought a sense of warmth to your heart.

Your lips curved into an amused smile, Paige always treated your apartment like it was her own but of course. But you didn't mind in the slightest; in fact, you found comfort in her presence and the easy way she fit into your life.

"You know, one of these days, you're going to move in officially," you teased, nudging her playfully as you stepped into the apartment behind her.

Paige grinned, turning to face you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And what makes you think I haven't already?"

She walked into the kitchen as you followed closely behind. She opened the fridge and grabbed a water before chugging it quickly as you rolled her eyes at her antics.

"Slow down, you'll choke." You joked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a smile. Paige shot you a playful glare before setting the empty water bottle on the counter with a satisfied sigh.

"I'll have you know, I'm a professional water chugger," she replied with a grin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. "Is that a new sport you're adding to your repertoire? First basketball, now water chugging?"

"Hey, hydration is key," Paige said, adopting a mock-serious expression. "Gotta stay on top of my game, you know."

You laughed, reaching out to playfully ruffle her hair as she groaned. "Well, I can't argue with that. But next time, maybe try sipping instead of chugging. I'd hate to have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on you."

"If that makes you feel better, princess." Paige rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she shot you a playful smirk. "Anyway, I'm gonna go shower cus I'm disgusting."

"Sounds like a plan," you replied, giving her a playful wink as she headed towards the bathroom. You looked down and realized that you were also sweaty and disgusting.

"Wait, wait. I need to shower too, so hurry!"

"Or..." Paige started as she smirked back at you. "You can join me?"

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Paige's suggestion, a playful smirk on your lips. "Oh, is that so?"

Paige smirked, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of excitement. "Why waste water when we can save some by showering together?"

"God, you sound like such a boy right now." You joked as she grabbed your arm and pulled you into the bathroom. "Okay fine. For the environment."

"Yep, for the environment." Paige replied as she closed the door, a smirk playing on her lips.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn headcannons #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #ncaa women’s basketball #women's college basketball #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wcbb fic

[chosetherose]

The Fortnight video foreshadows the convergence of Taylor Swift and her brand

In her videos, Taylor has continually played with the idea of herself as a person versus as a brand. These portrayals have almost been adversarial in nature. Think about the relationship between the two life sized Anti-Hero Taylors. The hooded robot Taylor who got to exist in the world while her bare counterpart was trapped in glass. Etc.

The Fortnight video introduces similar characters but flips the script because there isn’t a me versus her dynamic anymore. Instead, there is a story about coming together.

A scene by scene breakdown:

Taylor Swift™️ is chained to a bed in a white gown with a spicy slit and garter. A faceless nurse enters walking upside down on the ceiling (a continued theme suggestive of PR games). The nurse presents “Forget Him” pills, arguably reminiscent of a dark time where the world thought they could “cure” homosexuality. After Taylor Swift™️ begrudgingly takes her dose, the nurse unchains her.

We then see Taylor Swift™️ approach a two way mirror and wipe the mask off her face, revealing face tattoos we know to be Post Malone’s in real life. This reveal is setting the scene that within this video Post Malone represents Taylor’s inner self, her true soul behind the veil of celebrity. I’ll call him True Taylor.

Next, the mask is back and we see Taylor Swift™️ walk out of the observation room and into the workspace. She goes from wearing a leggy white gown with garter to a fully covered black poet-esque dress. She isn’t dressed for voyeuristic eyes anymore, she’s dressed to work on her art. I love this light to dark transition because black can be seen as the absence of light. Fitting for a tortured poet who can’t live her truth in public with her sunny muse by her side.

Note that we don’t get to see black dress Taylor Swift™️ through the two way mirror. She exists behind the bright lights of fame, making art in a room hidden from our view. Maybe the pills numb her enough to twist the art for an audience who likes to her to be chained to a bed while they watch her suffer.

But wait Taylor Swift™️ and True Taylor are collaborating. They start work separately but their art eventually drifts out of their typewriters, combining into a white light that bursts into a rainbow. Remember how I said black light is the absence of light? Well white light is comprised of all hues on the visible light spectrum.

We know there are layers to Taylor’s music: the surface layers chock full with to red herrings for the grocery line Swifties and the deeper layers of Taylor’s truth. They both exist in the art, swirled together.

But here is where things start to feel different. We cut to True Taylor and Taylor Swift™️ away from all those faceless people - they are alone in the middle of a road. That in itself is ridiculously symbolic of being on the way to somewhere (maybe brighter days). But there’s more because they are dressed identically, laying inside Taylor’s head that is made up of their art. This scene is like bonking us on the head that these two people are one and the same.

Note: The silhouette here is from the Style video which also portrays Taylor’s inner self as a man.

Taylor Swift™️ runs to True Taylor and they embrace in the middle of the road as pages of their art float around them. In the chaos, Taylor Swift™️ reaches out to True Taylor.

Maybe this scene is suggesting the public version of Taylor is ready to embrace her real self.

Then we see Taylor Swift™️ strapped to a table, wild hair from dropping the hairpins we saw in the opening scene. The drugs aren’t working, it must be time to escalate to shock therapy. The men around her gather and there is literally a sign in the background that says “Master Control”.

But one of the men in the room making decisions for the brand is actually True Taylor, who has been there all this time.

Enough is enough when True Taylor can’t take the pain and pulls the plug on the procedure, freeing public persona Taylor from torture.

Next we see True Taylor, familiarly encased behind glass, on a phone call. Perhaps making plans while safe from the rain. Taylor Swift™️ is elevated on a pedestal, out in the storm, in her best dress FEARLESS! Credit to @rep-princess-witch who put the fearless connection together in another post.

I’ll say it again, that is the huge difference in this video compared to others. Here, Taylor Swift™️ is not an antagonist, she is ready to brave the storm.

So what does she do? She’s back in the workspace burning all the files. It’s not without emotion but it’s necessary. We then see a stoic Taylor Swift™️ with no regrets.

After burning the files she’s back in the observation room. It’s time to fight back against the voyeurs and she does so by smashing the glass between her and them. She regains her agency by squashing their ability to hide. Shes deserting her past life.

Note: We don’t see True Taylor back inside. This fight is specifically for Taylor’s public persona.

In the closing seen, we see True Taylor leave shelter, step outside into the storm, and reach for Taylor Swift™️. The person and the public persona are weathering the storm hand in hand.

*Please check out @heyitsmoog on TikTok - he shared thoughts there that inspired me to make this post.*

#I could tweak this for days but here it is! #analysis

[megalony]

Poorly Baby

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

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

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Evan Buckley Masterlist

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

Enjoy.

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

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

It didn't work.

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

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

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

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

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

The two year old wasn't feeling well today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For me? Aw, baby girl."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's our girl."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright, in you go."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Evan toppled out.

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

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

"You little-"

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

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

"I'm sorry babe."

***

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

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

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

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

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

"Yep, just about."

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

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

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

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

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

Great. She had a pushy couple behind her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh!"

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

"Push me, pal. See what happens."

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Papa…"

"S'alright, come here, look."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh for fuck's sake."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Listen mate, I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well done, babe."

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

[hughes86-43]

Luke Hughes request-

Y/n gets spotted with Luke leaving the last game of the regular season and they get stopped by fans to take photos together

anon you’ve read my mind; i thought about writing something like this all week; thanks for requesting! :)

-

Sadly, tonight was the last game of the regular season for the Devils, and they wouldn’t be going to the playoffs. After the game tonight, you waited for your boyfriend to get done getting dressed and out of the locker room. You and Luke had only been dating for a couple of months now, after deciding that both of you like each other a lot after being friends for years.

You both walked hand in hand to the garage to where his car was. He opened the passenger door for you, gave your thigh squeeze, and round the car to get to his side.

“I think Nico said there was some fans outside, I’m going to stop and sign some things, is that okay?” Luke asks, while buckling his seatbelt.

You give him a smile and a nod, “Of course, I don’t mind.”

He leans over to kiss your cheek, “Okay, I knew you wouldn’t, but I know we’re both ready to go home.”

Once out of the parking garage, he pulls infront of the fans standing outside the arena. Luke rolls down his window and starts engaging with the fans. You take this time to admire that despite how tired he was, he was still willing to sign and talk to them. A few fans noticed you, offering a smile your way or a wave. Most people adored yours and Lukes relationship.

While you respond back to your mom on your phone, you hear someone tell Luke to tell you something. “You better have told Y/N that she is stunning tonight!” Luke blushes as he looks at you, smiles and turns back to the girl. “Of course, I did! Although, she’s always stunning but the jersey she’s wearing adds to it,” Luke replies, still blushing. Tonight, you opted to wear his jersey with black leather pants and converse. You had gotten a ton of compliments on it, especially from Luke who had insisted on a bunch of pictures of it. You were also going to post an end of season photo of you and Luke, that you managed to take with him before the game, on social media later.

As he gets to end of the line of people, someone asks for a photo with Luke, but surprisingly they want you in it too. “Can Y/N get in the photo as well?” The fan asks Luke. He turns to ask you and of course you don’t mind. Luke helps you lean into the photo, a hand on your back to help you. “Perfect, thank you guys so much and enjoy your summer!” The fans says as you wave goodbye to them.

Once everybody has gotten their things signed, Luke pulls out onto on the main highway. Looking over at him, you say, “Can you believe someone wanted me in the photo as well?! My first photo with a fan! I can’t believe it!” As soon as the fan asked if you could be in the photo as well, you had to hide your giddiness of being asked. Again, most fans are nice about your guy’s relationship, and some people can be not so nice about it.

Luke beams at your excitement. “I know! That was so nice,” he says, smiling. “Thank you for not minding that I stop and talk to them.”

You wave him off, “Oh, stop, you know it’s not a big deal!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but still. Can’t believe the season is over, it’s so crazy,” Luke says, eyes focused on the road.

You reach over and grab his hand, rubbing small circles on it. “I know, but you guys did good and now you can relax for a bit.” Luke nods, taking in the comforting words from you.

Later that night, you lay in bed going through social media. The picture of you, Luke, and the fan was swirling all over Twitter. You couldn’t help but to laugh at some of the comments people were saying. From the bathroom, Luke peaks his head out, “What’s so funny?”

You motion him over so he can look, “I was on Twitter and some of these comments people are making about me being in the photo are so funny!”

Luke knows there can be come harsh comments about you from fans, so he braces himself for them, even though you’re laughing. When he looks at your phone, he reads

“Y/N’s boyfriend just finished his rookie year”

“I want a picture with Luke and Y/N now”

“Y/N looks so good, Luke could take a few notes”

“Forget about Luke, I need Y/N”

Luke can’t help but to laugh as well to the comments. “I’m glad that the comments are good, I can’t handle someone else saying something bad about you,” he says, kissing your forehead.

“I know, but hey, I’m taking your spot now, everybody wants me!” You yell as he walks back to the bathroom.

He turns around, “Well, they can’t have you, you’re mine! They can find someone else!” You giggle, turning back to your phone to read more comments. Luke just shakes his head and goes back to the bathroom.

#luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #nhlhockey fic #nhl imagines

[ktaerssoi]

cheering for us

summary: cheering through an oddly hard game for kate.

kate martin x cheerleader!reader

(619)

as soon as first quarter had started you saw kate falter a little, something was off today. she was playing well, yes, but not nearly as well as usual. not only had kate herself realized, but the coaches and commentators as well.

you could tell she was overthinking in her head, she had tried to block someone but ended up almost tripping instead. you knew she wasn't going to have fun talking to the coaches, and really wanted nothing more then to just talk to her and let her know that this game doesn't define her career.

-

at halftime you and the cheer team were to do a routine you guys had been practicing, and you guys had done it quite successfully. Iowa was down by 7, but after the little performance spirit seemed to be high.

before you returned to you spot by the side of the court you had an opportunity to talk to kate. "hey, k, you're doing good okay? this game isn't the end of the world anyway, just relax okay?" she nodded at your words and tried to shake out some tension as she watched you walk away

-

the game had ended with Iowa winning by 12 points, kate scored a 3-pointer in the fourth quarter. you guys were on your way back to your guys' apartment when she brought up her early performance.

"y/n you have to admit i wasn't doing good in the first half," she turned to you for a second, before quickly focusing back on the road. "kate im not going to lie to you and tell you were doing bad." you shook your head, a smile on your face as your arm rested on the inside of the car door.

"but you wouldn't be lying!" kate was smiling, her mood had improved from half time, clearly. "okay well even if you were doing bad, what do you think caused it? reflect on that if you really want to improve."

"so you do think i could improve!" she rolls her eyes as we pull into the complex building's car park. "but i think it was probably you and that other girl on the cheerleading team." you narrow your eyes, confused what she meant.

"what other girl?" you asked as you guys rounded the back of the car to grab your bags from the trunk and bring your stuff upstairs. "the one with the blonde hair, you were like, dying laughing at something she said. i was jealous." she shrugged, and you were a little stunned.

"kate, babe, that girl was telling me about some story about her boyfriend. trust me we are not like that." you smile a little as the tips of her ears go red with embarrassment. "oh,"

-

the two of you were on the couch watching some sports thing, your head resting on kate's shoulder as you read a book.

a commercial break comes on, and kate lets out a little sigh, shifting under you. "can we talk about how good that halftime routine was? seriously, you looked so good babe." you smiled a little, trying to hide your flustered state.

you put you book down, moving over even more, trying to get as close as possible. "you looked pretty good out there two k, i mean seriously, i was struggling to focus." you smirked as you saw her face goes pinkish again, you sit up a little, kissing her cheek quickly.

"you seriously need to get a headband or something, those flyaways are not flattering." you smile, leaning back as you listen to kate's defense for why she can't wear a headband for the 37th time.

"it messes up the look"

okay caht its offical, i hate everything i write and im quitting 🥰🥰 jk i wish..actually though i suck at writing for requests like this is actually SO FLIPPING BAD IM SOBBING. its also 3pm and the brownies r bomb. anyway, not proofreade dont come for me! also this was weird to write because my name is - kate (see what i did?)

#wcbb #caitlin clark #paige bueckers #kate martin #kate martin x reader #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb #i love kate martin #wlw

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: yo, work is driving me nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Lady Jazlene, a queen by marriage, cries herself to sleep. You stay until she snores and snuff the candle as you leave her on her stomach atop the stuffed mattress. You emerge between the guards and wonder if they keep people out or keep her in. 

They don’t react to you. No one really does. A shadow approaches. The thickset man grunts at you as the moonlight shines off his dark mail. Bryce waits patiently as you near him. He turns and walks beside you in silence. 

Much of the camp is asleep. The only fires that remain are those of the soldiers on watch for marauders and bandits. Your soles kick loose pebbles and trample flattened grass further. You yawn as you reach the luggage carts and find the one you rode in. The grey horse is tie to the axle, dozing on its feet with puffing nostrils. 

“The road will not get any less turbulent,” Bryce warns as he grabs his bedroll from across his mount’s rump. “You will need sleep, maid.” 

“Thank you, sir,” you lift the canvas draped over the back of the wagon. 

He grumbles and unfurls his roll across the dirt. You climb up and nestle down beneath the cover, pressed against a chest as you curl up. You hear the soldier lay down with a groan, “...too sweet...” 

You close your eyes and rest your head on a bent arm. The darkness quickly swallows you up into slumber and the day fades into obscurity. You’re not conscious long enough to dread the one ahead. 

As the sun rises, heat gathers in the cart. You wake in a damp sweat, nearly suffocating as you gulp up cool air. You slip down onto your feet and grab onto the cart to keep from stumbling. Bryce grunts as your soles crunch on the ground. 

“Eh, where’re you off to?” He sneers. 

You look down at him. His eyes are still closed as his grey steed sniffs at the dirt close to him. 

“Sir, I... I haven’t... relieved myself since... erm, well...” 

“Go on, but not too far,” he opens his eyes and sits up. “Holler if you meet trouble.” 

The horse huffs into his steely hair and he pets its nose. He grabs onto its reins and hauls himself up. You quickly spin and flit away. You go off into the brush where its thick and squat down, your skirts gathered above your knees. You miss the springs behind the castle where you would bathe with the other maids, you could use a wash now. 

You finish up and peer over the stretch of bodies, horses, and carts. You set off back toward the cart and as you come in sight of Bryce, he unties a dented kettle from his saddles. You feel much better without the pressure beneath your guts.  

“I could fetch water,” you offer. 

He looks over his shoulder. You think you surprised him. 

“Quiet mouse,” he mutters and faces you, gripping the bent handle, “I can manage a potful of water.” 

“Yes, sir, I only was being helpful.” 

“You stay, take Daisy to find some fresh grass,” he points to the horse. 

“Daisy?” You look at the beast, “is that her name?” 

He shrugs and stalks off. You go to the reins and loose them. You glance around and lead her over to an unyellowed swath of grass. She dips her long neck and grazes, tearing the strands noisily as her teeth clack. You pet her ear as she comes rather close to the hem of your skirt. 

Heavy steps tramp up behind you. You don’t bother looking as you assume it’s Bryce. Those who are stirring are barely able to lift themselves out of their rolls. The lazy rise of dawn does not inspire fastidiousness as the clouds haze amber and rose. 

“Fine horse,” the king’s timbre rumbles over you. 

You turn and bow your head, “your highness.” 

He inhales through his nose before he speaks again, “are you a fast rider?” 

“I’ve never... I don’t ride, your highness,” you reply, staring at his black mail, just at the center of his chest. “It isn’t my horse.” 

“I know it, I thought perhaps...” he begins and shifts his weight in his boots, “you might’ve secreted away the mare. That you would be sick for your home.” 

“Your highness? No, I wouldn’t--” You put your hand to your apron, “I am not a thief.” 

He pauses and his thick fingers toy with his belt, fiddling with a leather purse, “that isn’t what I...” he blows out in exasperation, “I do not think you dishonest. In fact, you are the most honest creature I’ve met around here.” 

You keep your eyes down, “I only mean to feed the horse.” 

“Yes, I believe you,” he assures, his tone glum, “forgive my inference. Truly, it wasn’t intended as such.” 

“I understand, your highness,” you say. 

“It was a jape, a poor one, I suppose,” he hooks his thumb in his belt and turns to pace. “I wanted to thank you. I have yet to figure out how to handle Lady Jazlene but you keeping her company, I do appreciate it.” He stops and crosses his arms as he faces you again, “last night, what you heard and saw... we are strangers still, her and I.” 

“I am a maid, your highness, I serve the lady and you now,” you reply, “that’s all I do.” 

His arms bulge before he drops them, “yes, I suppose for you, the matters of nobility are dull.” 

“It is not of my concern, your highness,” you say, “I am to see that all the wine and food and little things are taken care of.”  

You peer up at the sky as the dimness slowly recedes. His figure looms below and he slowly treads closer. You squeeze the reins. 

“You serve the queen, the king, and... a horse,” he reaches to touch its snout, dragging his knuckles along its grey fur. “Make certain we are fed and content.” 

“Whatever is needed, your highness,” you answer and watch his hand stroke the horse. 

“And what do you need?” He asks. 

You quork your head and stick out your lip. It's an odd question. You have what you need. You have a place in the cart, you have some nuts left over from Bryce’s generosity, and you have some hours sleep behind you. 

“Nothing, I think,” you say. 

He scratches behind the horse’s ear, “and what do you want?” 

You purse your lips. You think. Another strange inquiry. What should you want? That’s not something anyone ever worried for. You only troubled after what others wanted. 

“I... I want to see the snow,” you say at last, “I think I dreamt of it but I can’t remember. I don’t really know what it would look like but I remember once Merinda spoke of it. She knew a stable hand who once lived in the north.” 

He’s quiet. Your answer isn’t very interesting. To him, the snows must be so tedious. Nothing more than ordinary. He makes a clicking noise. 

“I want to see the snow too,” he pulls his hand away from the horse and for a moment, he seems to reach for you, recoiling short of touching your grasp on the reins. He withdraws and presses his thumb to his teeth. He hums. “We have far to go before the snow...” he rasps, “should you require anything for the road ahead, you may ask.” 

“That is kind, your highness, but I don’t expect I require much,” you assure, “thank you.” 

“Mmm,” he drones as he faces the sunrise and sets his posture, “onward.” 

He marches away as you stay and watch Daisy munch on the grass. You comb your fingers through her main, loosening the tangles. When another approaches, you glance over. Bryce tidies his own hair with his hands. 

“Water is boiling, maid,” he declares, “I have some spare mint leaf for tea.” 

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you smile down at Daisy and move out of reach of her teeth. “I will stay with the horse until she is done.” 

“Hm, aye, I understand,” his forehead lines, “she is much more pleasant than I.” 

He nods and turns back the way he came. You watch after him as he goes to sit before the hanging kettle, a low flame burning beneath it. He rolls his shoulders and hunches forward as he plants his elbows on his knees. These people of the Hinterlands are not so cold as they pretend. 

⚔️

The long train continues through the lands. Some days slower than others. There are some where progress stops at midday in favour of passing through a village or approaching a nearby farm. The king departs from the larger party, riding with his soldiers to greet the commonfolk. Lady Jazlene refuses to accompany her husband in favour of her silk tent and wine. 

The pauses in your trek makes you curious; you only ever heard of King Waleran showing his face to the citizens during the harvest festivals and self-aggrandizing ceremonies. You never saw the king yourself, only heard Lord Dustan and his wife resentfully complain of how the king never made the journey to Debray. Did he not recall that once a duchess was married to his great-uncle? 

You spend the hours in Jazlene’s company. She wants her wine and mutton. You notice that her appetite for the former has grown since the first day’s travel. She even requested that some casks be sought during one of the king’s visits. He acted as if he did not hear her entreaty. Their few encounters since that first night have been terse and short, neither offering much more than a word or two. 

The queen swirls her cup, watching the motion of the wine within. She giggles and puts it down, picking up the looking glass and admiring herself. She sits on a wooden stool, her skirts dusted with the dirt of the road. Despite the filth, she insists on sporting a new gown each day, no matter how extravagant. 

“What a fool? To think he is wasting his time on commoners,” she trills, “you know, he should be here, worried about his wife and queen. Not married a week and all we’ve done is ride anon. I’ve had no wedding, no feast. How I am neglected for these dirty farmers.” 

You say nothing. You’re not certain she recalls you’re there. She speaks to herself often as if her mother is there. A few times, she has even called for the duchess. Often when she’s nearly finished the bottle. 

She pouts and sniffs. She drains the cup completely and puts it down heavily on the crate next to her. She grips the mirror with both hands and looks at her reflection. She contorts her face, sucking in her cheeks, pushing out her lips, turning her head this way and that. 

“Aren’t I beautiful?” She nearly whispers. You don’t flinch. You stare at your hem. She sighs and stomps her foot, “I’m asking you!” 

You peek up at her, surprised.  

“Yes, your highness, you are very beautiful.” 

She frowns, “you lie to me.” 

“I wouldn’t lie, your highness.” 

“Don’t argue with me,” she snarls and slams the mirror down, cracking the glass on the crate. She stands and blusters around, her skirts catching between her legs, “if I am beautiful, what makes me so, hm? Tell me!” 

You stare at her. She is beautiful. You always thought so.  

“Your hair, your curls, your highness, they are beautiful.” 

She rolls her eyes, “just my hair?” 

She wobbles slightly as she struts towards you. 

“Your eyes. They are pretty too. And you have a nicely set nose. And your lips are finely curved, your highness,” you explain as she looms closer and closer. 

“Hmph,” she stops, slouching drunkenly as she leans in to consider you, “of course you would say so. Look at you. So plain. An ugly handmaid.” 

You stare back at her, a strike in your chest, then drop your gaze. It is the wine. She huffs, her alcohol-laden breath tinging your nose. 

“The king,” she babbles as she turns on her heels, swaying dangerously, “we’ve only lain together our first night. It was... quick. He didn’t want me to sleep with him,” she raises a hand and flutters her fingers, “he shooed me away like some whore.” She spins and falls onto the stool, “if I am so beautiful, why does he not want me?” 

You watch her. She isn’t looking for your answer. She’s talking to talk. Lady Rezlyn isn’t there so she has only herself and stagnant air trapped in the tent. 

“It is my duty to have his babies. To give him heirs. I cannot do that if he will not touch me. But perhaps when are in one place, he might try again,” she smiles and lifts the broken mirror. She tilts it and lets her hand drift down to your bodice. She pushes her chest up, “when he lets me take this off, he will see. He will want me.” 

She convinces herself as she preens at her reflection, “perhaps it won’t hurt.” She looks around and sees the bottle of wine. She grabs it by the neck. She grips it and wiggles it at you in the air. “He’s even thicker than this,” she puts the mirror down and balances the bottle on her palm as she circles her fingers around the bottom of the bottles neck, just before it rounds out, “and longer.” 

You stare at the silk wall, mortified by her words. She giggles and the movement of her hand draws your eyes up. You watch from under your lashes as she brings her hands up and down the bottle neck. 

“Mother says, just like this,” she pumps it, “that he should like it very much.” She stops and focuses on the bottle, “mmm, he is a man underneath it all.” She tosses the bottle away, “and I am a beautiful woman. He will want me.” 

You lower your eyes again and twine your fingers together. You can’t help but feel bad for her. You only wish you had some words of wisdom or comfort to offer her. Or that she would hear them. You can’t help but touch the fading bruise along your stomach as you languish in the tepid silence. It’s better to let her forget you. 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king #dark fic #dark!fic

[joshsjipple]

Second Chances

JOSH KISZKA X FEMALE READER

A/N: I’m so sorry for all the Josh fics but he seems the be the only one who fits my ideas atm. I promise to get another Jake and Sam one out there eventually. Bear with me!

Word Count: 8.3k

WARNINGS: 18+ mature content, graphic sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f & m rec), fingering, praise kink, spitting, hair pulling, a bit of a mustache kink, language, FLUFF! this is a more gentle, sweet fic:)

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

Your hand shakes so vigorously as you sign your name on the papers at the car rental counter that you’re shocked when the receptionist hands you the keys. Your phone vibrates in your jean pocket and you give the clerk an apologetic smile as your pen scrapes across one last form. With a bag in your hand, you head for the doors. Your rental car isn’t exactly ideal, with rust infecting the edges and dents along the passenger side door, it looks like it survived a zombie apocalypse. But it will get you to Frankenmuth, so you cram yourself in and prepare for the hour and a half drive.

To say you were surprised to receive a call from your high school bestie Robin, would be an understatement. In fact, when you heard her voice on the other line, you nearly dropped your coffee in the middle of downtown Manhattan. It had only been five years or so since you’d walked across that stage, cap and gown on and diploma in hand, but it felt like a lifetime ago. It was strange for your class to already be arranging a reunion, but you weren’t complaining. You knew your boss–Sara– wouldn’t mind giving you a few days off to return home, as you had only taken two sick days this year. You felt like you deserved a bit of a break–even if that “break” included spending time in your childhood prison cell.

It’s around 4pm when you arrive at your parent’s house just 15 miles out of town. You’ve been home plenty of times before to attend family gatherings, holidays, and occasionally some birthdays. But you haven’t entered the town itself since you left it. It’s silly, but you could never bring yourself to do it, so you’d take the back roads, windows down, blasting music from your specially made playlist with a smile on your face.

As you tug your bag out of the back seat, you already hear the front door opening. As you turn around, you’re greeted by two overly-excited parents. It takes only a few seconds before your mother has you wrapped in a bear-hug, her body gently rocking yours as she strokes your hair. When she finally releases you, your dad scoops you up. It’s brief, but it does the job.

Your parents leave you to get situated in your room, and when you enter, a wave of deja vu sweeps your body. It’s always the same as you leave it, a time capsule you get to revisit when you’re lucky. You posters still hang on the walls surrounding your bed, neither you or your parents having the guts to remove them. Books still line your shelf, all sorted neatly by genre categories. Your box of vinyls are placed under a desk, dust creeping over the covers. Your window sills still have the same flower-patterned curtains that they did when you were just a girl. Despite your friends making fun of them as you grew up, you were too sentimental to just tear them down and throw them away. 

You’re examining the room, your eyes occasionally stopping on something that brings back a fond memory. When they scan over your night stand, time seems to freeze. A framed picture is set up on the wooden surface, slightly facing towards your bed. Two kids, a girl and a boy, are waist deep in the water, their skin dotted with water droplets as more fly through the air. Their mouths are open, screaming and giggling as the water hits their faces. Suddenly, you’re transported back six years to when that was taken. You can recognize those damp curls anywhere, even if the sun is blinding the camera and blocking half of him out. You can remember that day like it was just last week, and the fact it still feels so recent, sends shivers up your arm. 

After you pick your jaw up off the floor, you cross the room and immediately bring the picture to your face. It’s clean, like it was just recently set there. The tip of your finger traces the frames, the corner of your lips tugging into a smile. You had to have been only 16 or 17 at the time, making Josh the same age. That summer was the best of your life, a forever memory engraved in your brain. You and him spent those whole two and a half months together, basking in the sunlight in his backyard, listening to him complain about his twin brother. You had watched nearly every movie out there, staying up till 2 am every night before lazily dragging yourself back to your house only to join him for breakfast the following morning.

It’s a bittersweet moment for you as you stare at the boy you once knew and now know nothing about. 

Placing it back in its original position, you run your fingers through your hair a few times before sitting on your bed. The window is open, a fresh breeze spilling into your all-the-sudden claustrophobic room. Needing to get your mind off things, you pull out your phone and answer a text from Robin.

Robin: In town yet?

You: Yep! Everything’s the same.

Robin: Pretty close. We’re all meeting at the bar downtown at 7pm.

You: Got it. Who’s all coming?

Robin: Everyone except Evan and Lily; something about sick kids and a tight work schedule.

Your thumbs pause momentarily before dancing on the screen. You don’t want to ask, but at the same time you do, so you type the message a few times before ultimately deleting it. Falling back, you groan slightly, rubbing your tired eyes. Your phone buzzes by your thigh again, alerting you of another text.

Robin: I know you were contemplating on asking, but yes, Josh will be there.

–

At 5pm, you eat a small snack with your parents. Your mother made bagel dip for you–an all time classic– so you munch on it as you catch up with your family. As suspected, nothing’s really changed around town, unless you count new tourists pouring in every year. You tell them about your job and what it’s like living in a big city, a fascinated daze over both their faces as you speak. You’re just about to head upstairs to shower when your mother calls from over her shoulder.

“Are you still in contact with Josh?” she asks, causing a pause in your chewing. Your eyes find your father’s, but all he does is shrug and place his folded hands on the table before you.

“Not really.” you manage to say, praying that will be enough to end the conversation. But of course, you’re not lucky enough.

“That’s too bad. Did you know his band got huge?” she returns to the dining room, a towel in her hands.

“No. I didn’t.” you lie. Of course you knew it did. 

“I always knew they would, they were very talented, even as kids.” you dad chimes in. You sink deeper into your seat, feeling a slight ping of guilt prick your stomach.

“Is he coming tonight?” your mom asks in a knowing tone. You smile warmly, eyes darting across her face to try and decide what she’s trying to do.

“Yes, him and Jake.”

“That’ll be fun, just like old times.” she replies, the last few words sticking out slightly more than the rest. 

“Sweetie–” your father attempts to speak, but you cut him off.

“Did you put that photo on my nightstand?” you question. She only shrugs, which is fine because it gives you your answer. “It’s not ever going to happen, mom.” you put your foot down, eyes slightly piercing into hers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I found it in storage and didn’t want it to break.” 

Although her answer seems to make sense, it’s not like her to not have a motive. Following your better judgment, you just nod in agreement. That last thing you want to do is spend your few days here fighting with your mom.

–

By 6:30, your hair is washed, curled, and neatly displayed across your shoulders. A small ribbon ties a few strands back, keeping them out of your eyes. Going for a more simple look, you skip the major makeup steps in your routine and settle on some mascara and lipgloss. With two dainty gold necklaces hanging across your neck-line, you settle on a tight black dress. You slip on a pair of white heels before standing in front of your whole-body mirror to look yourself over. You decide it’s good enough, grab a handbag, and head out the door.

Driving through Frankenmuth made you feel like a teenager again. You mom let you take her car once she examined the state of your rental. It moved smoothly across the roads as you admired the scenery. When you passed the school grounds, you nearly lost it. You hated it at the time, but now that you’re grown, you miss it like hell. Correction: you miss him like hell.

Every spot in this town holds a different memory, each containing Josh. The big hill that the two of you would ride your bikes down; he was always braver than you were. The parking lot of the hometown grocer where the two of you pushed each other around in grocery carts. That park where you smoked your first joint (with Josh’s supervision, expertise, and guidance). And finally, the downtown road that would lead you to your final destination tonight. It was one of your fondest memories of Josh, it made you see how much he cared for you. You were wandering around town when he took your hand and dragged you into the street, a sly smile on his face. He set a hand on your waist and hummed a soft song, recreating that scene from The Notebook because he knew how much you loved that movie.

It didn’t occur to you until now that you would be seeing him tonight. You sat parked, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to imagine what he looks like now. Of course you could have just looked it up, but you thought that would be cheating so you pushed that urge out of your head. Once you gather up all your courage, you remove yourself from the car and make your way to the door.

The committee must have rented out the whole building, because when you step in, there’s only a few handfuls of people in your presence. The place is cleaned up nice, the floors redone and the walls decorated with patterned paintings. For once, it doesn’t smell like fried onions and beer which you’re coming to appreciate.

Once you’ve scanned the room thoroughly and don’t find either Josh or Jake, you say hello to your former classmates. You all make small talk for a while, smiles filling the room as everyone talks about their success. You even find one of your ex-situationships, Mark, and fling your arms around him. The two of you talk for a while, even giggling over how dramatic your ‘relationship’ was. He’s explaining his fiance when you catch a chestnut brown haired man talking to someone. Begrudgingly, you finish your conversation with Mark before approaching him. Your heart beats quickly in your chest as you join his small group nonchalantly. 

The boy turns his head, giant chocolate eyes staring straight back at you. Your heart skips a beat while your brain tries to comprehend. Tilting your head, it clicks together. It’s not Josh, it’s Jake. 

“Jacob?” you finally ask, knowing 100% it’s him.

“Miss me?” he smirks before pulling you into his arms.

You were never as close with Jake, but you still knew him better than your other classmates. He smells of alcohol and musky spice, making your head spin. Once he pulls away, he keeps a hand firmly planted on your upper arm.

“How have you been?” you ask quickly, not wanting the interaction to end just yet.

“I’m good, very busy. And you?” his eyes shine.

“I’m great, actually. Thanks.” you reply, exhaling deeply. “You look great. I love the mustache.”

“We just got back from Europe. I’ll probably shave it off within the next few weeks.” he admits in an awfully comfortable tone. He looks rather relaxed right now, and you take note of it. You probably look like a constipated cow right now, nervous and shaking.

When you open your mouth to speak, Robin shouts your name. You turn towards the sound, finding her already trotting towards you with open arms. The two of you embrace, rocking back and forth on your heels. When she pulls away, she looks the exact same as she did in highschool. Her bright blonde hair is tied up, blue eyes glimmering, smile lines showing. She was always one of the most radiant humans you had ever met.

Appearing from behind her is no other than Josh Kiszka. Your moves falter, but Robin offers you a quick squeeze and a smile of encouragement. You barely notice her, or anything around you other than him. 

“We’ll catch up later, hm?” she says before leaving to talk to another person across the room.

Time seems to pause for a brief moment, the world allowing you to stare at him without feeling awkward or rude. The once shaved sides of his head are now filled in completely, messy curls atop his head like a mop. He had been clean shaved his whole life, but now, hair grows above his lip and down his chin. He looks more mature, and kissed by the sun, but nonetheless, it’s Josh.

You both seem to have the same idea, because you meet each other halfway. He wraps you up in his arms, his arms gripping your waist. Your hand rests on his back, the other briefly toying with the curls on the back of his head. As always, he radiates warmth and affection, making you want to break down in his arms. You can feel his heart against your chest and you shut your eyes to soak up the feeling. He rests his chin in the cavern between your shoulder and neck, his nose moving some of your curls out of the way. When he breathes, the warm air ignites sparks of electricity, flowing through your blood. He smells like love and wine and you begin to feel drunk off of him.

He pulls away first, a beaming expression on his face. His hands grab your forearms, unwilling to let go. He clutches onto you like you might disappear if he lets go, making your heart skip a beat.

“How are you?” he starts off. 

“I’m great, Josh. And what about you? How’s the rockstar life treating you?” you speak rapidly, unable to control anything.

“Ah, so you have been stalking.” he chirps joyfully, teeth showing. “It’s okay, me too.” You’re so taken back by his words that your brain doesn’t think of a response. But just like when you were a teenager, Josh has that under control. “Come sit. We’ll have a drink.” he announces after a pause, leading you to the bar. 

He pulls the chair out for you before pushing you in, your knees brushing against the table top. Taking his place next to you, he takes a hand to call the waiter over.

“I’ll do a Salty Dog and she’ll have some red wine.” he speaks confidently for you as if you haven’t spoken for five years. The man behind the counter leaves and Josh turns to you. “What?” he asks once he notices your confusion. 

“You remembered?” you say with a laugh. 

“Remember what? That you can’t drink hard liquor? I had a permanent reminder in my car for a few years.” he quips, earning a giggle from you.

“I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, which is why I’m nice about it.” he grins. The bartender arrives with your drinks and you quickly bring your glass to your lips, desperate to consume anything that will help calm your nerves. 

“So,” you say once you’ve both swallowed the liquid. “How was Europe?”

“Doing a little more stalking than I thought, eh?” he jokes again.

“Funny. I talked to Jake before this.” you tell him. Folding your hands in your lap, you struggle to look him in the eyes.

“Figured. He does get all the ladies nowadays.” he sighs dramatically. “Europe was awesome, it’s so lovely. You’d love it.” he insists, hand rubbing his chin. “And what about you? Did you become that world-selling author you always wanted to be?”

“Josh, don’t you think you would have heard about me if that were so?”

He takes a second to think as he purses his lips. “I don’t read much anymore, so no.”

“You don’t read anymore?” you ask in disbelief.

“I only liked your stuff. It just felt weird…” he pauses briefly, taking another sip of his beverage. “So if you’re not an author, what do you do?”

“It’s similar, but I edit other people’s work.”

“Really? Do you write at all?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Not much.” you admit. 

It makes you sad to finally say it aloud. You haven’t written since you and Josh went separate ways as he was your inspiration. You loved the idea of describing people you thought he would like or relate to just to see his face when he reaches the plot twist.

“That’s too bad. You were very talented.” he compliments. “I’d like to talk to some other people before they leave, but would you want to meet up in a couple hours and head back to my place?”

Your heart rate spikes. “Your place? Or your parent’s place?”

“Tomato tomato.” he shrugs, accentuating the words differently. 

“I’d love to.” you say, standing to your feet. 

Josh follows your lead, but as you begin to walk away, his fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you to a stop. Your face is inches from his and you can feel every breath he takes. With his fingers tightly placed on your wrist, you know he can feel how fast your heart is beating. Feeling confident from your drink, you hold eye contact and only break it to watch his tongue run over his bottom lip. 

“Don’t slip away again, okay?” he swallows, his brows pulled down into a knotted expression. 

You don’t even understand what he means until he’s walking away. By then, it’s too late to answer, so you shake it off and begin your search for Robin. 

–

After an hour or so of meaningful conversations, you manage to slip away and find Robin. She’s tucked away in the kitchen, digging through her purse for something. When you approach her from behind, she jumps slightly with her hand over her heart.

“Jeez you’re sneaky.” she relaxes again, a smile resting on her lips. “How’s it going?”

You move next to her and shrug absently. “It’s good. Everything’s changed so much, don’t ya think?”

“Some things haven’t.” she says in a simple tone. You quirk your head to the side, trying to decipher her words as she continues to dig through her purse. Her lips are molded into a mostly flat line, the only action being the smallest of grins only you could recognize.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and Josh, I mean.” she states, her eyes failing to meet yours.

You scoff and mess with a strand of hair that has fallen into your eyes. “Yeah right. I think he’s changed the most.”

“Maybe, but did you ever sit and think that he’s always been that kind of front man? I mean, he was the main character in the school plays for four years straight.” she adds.

“I suppose. But it’s still different.” you frown slightly. 

Robin huffs loudly before turning her body to face yours. “The only thing that has changed, is the shift of platonic love into romantical love.”

Her words make your blood run cold, goosebumps pricking on your skin. You swallow loudly, eyes locked with hers, searching for some sort of clue to let you know she’s just joking. It never comes so you’re forced to think of an answer.

“It’s not–no!” you squint at her. She only shrugs and juts out her chest a bit. “It’s not like that between us. It never has been and never will be.”

“It’s obvious. I’ve known you since we were just girls playing barbies, and you’ve never once looked at someone the way you look at Josh. Not even Mark, and he was the hottest guy in school.” she pauses to shove at your shoulder. “I mean, even after five years of no contact for whatever reason, he’s still the one.”

You stand in front of her gobsmacked and motionless. With a flat gaze, you watch her eyes curiously dance over yours. Not once has anyone ever pinned the tail on the donkey so well, so the fact she did had your jaw on the floor. After a few more seconds, she rolls her eyes and combs through her hair.

“Okay.” you say. “Maybe you’re right. But it hasn’t always been like that. High school was platonic, completely. Nothing ever happened.”

“I know.” she says quickly. “Except for that one time when–”

“It was a kiss and we were wasted. You dared us to!” you point at her with furrowed brows. She laughs, the sound filling the room and relaxing your shoulders. “Don’t tell him. We’ve both changed over these five years, I don’t want him to find a reason to be with me when he has so much ahead of him. So just keep it between us, okay?”

“I don’t have to.” she says cooly, just as a knock appears on the door.

“Hey guys.” someone says, and you turn around quickly to see Josh perched at the door frame. “Still gossiping I see. Some things never change.”

“You know it.” Robin smiles, going in for a hug. They share a brief moment before she does the same to you.

“Trust your gut.” she whispers just loud enough for you to hear. You smile at her and watch her mingle out into the party. 

“Are you ready to go?” he questions, motioning to the doors. You nod and follow behind him, a weird feeling sitting in the pit of your gut.

Your goodbyes to everyone are short, but you spend an extra minute in Jake’s arms. He tells Josh he won’t be home till later because he’s having a few more drinks with a friend. You and Josh split off a few moments later, him holding the door open for you as you step out into the street.

“Remember what happened here?” he asks as he falls into pace with your steps.

“Your Ryan Gosling moment?” you joke. 

“He wishes he could do as well as I.” he boasts, giving you a playful shrug. “My cars here.”

The drive to his house is short. The two of you sit in silence, music filling the void between you both. You watch the road wind in its familiar pattern, twisting and turning until he turns into his driveway. The house looks the same as it did the night before graduation, its walls still giving off a welcoming aura. You’ve barely fathomed the fact that you’re here until Josh’s at your door, holding it open. You smile warmly and thank him under your breath as you get out.

“Home sweet home.” he says, leading you to the front door as if you didn’t basically grow up here.

“Are your parents not home?” you ask, noticing the lights shut off.

“Not till later. Just us for now if that’s okay.”

You nod and enter the house. Immediately, your knees begin to feel weak. It feels like you’ve been running away your entire life and finally reached home. It still smells like cinnamon and freshly cooked waffles. The air is warm and inviting, and you fight every urge not to crawl on the couch and drift off to sleep. You must be ogled, because Josh stands beside you, watching your face cover so many emotions in a record amount of timing. He doesn’t say a word, but his hand brushes yours and brings you back to reality.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” he offers, moving towards the fridge.

“Water is fine.” you tell him, leaning over the counter to watch him. The house is silent, but Josh fixes that by humming a song to himself. He fills the cup with ice and cold water, his eyes focused on your drink. 

“Three ice cubes?” you ask when he hands the glass to you.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks in a fake offensive voice. 

“Do you want me to answer that?” you joke. He gives you a scolding look before giving into the laugh that’s creeping up his throat.

“Wanna go upstairs?” he asks. “I’ve got something for you.”

“What?”

“Just come on.” he encourages, already at the staircase.

You follow behind him, taking note of his movements up the stairs. The hallway is pitch black, but neither of you have an issue because you know the path like the back of your hands. When you enter his room, you’re engulfed by the familiarity. His bed is made neatly, bed sheets still the same maroon as they were throughout highschool. Everything looks the exact same besides a duffle back on the floor by the wall. Almost immediately, Josh wanders to his vinyl collection. He digs through it and places his choice on his player. 

You take your seat on the edge of his bed, watching him kneel to set the volume just how he likes it. When he’s finished, he stands and brushes his hands across his khaki pants. That simple motion makes your heart pump a wave of sadness through you. As kids, Josh never put any effort into looking presentable when it came to you. Although he always somehow managed to smell like peaches and flowers, he never cared what he looked like to you, and neither did you. 

“You’ve grown up.” you say in a flat tone, emotionless. 

He pauses on your face and reads you like an open book. “You too. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

Josh just nods and sits on the bed, his weight causing it to sink slightly. He pulls his legs up and sits criss-cross applesauce, just as he always used to do. The simple action makes you relax a bit, a small token of a reminder that he is still him, and you’re still you. Now, you remember back to sitting on Josh’s bed, knees tucked under your chin as you fiddled with a string in your denim shorts. He was across from you, his hands working skillfully on his acoustic guitar. You two sat there the whole day, saying very little to each other. You could do that with him–sit in silence and enjoy each other’s company. Now if you had to do that with someone, you’d be in for one hell of a panic attack.

“You look beautiful tonight.” he tears you away from your thoughts. “You are beautiful.”

You feel a hot shade of pink dust on your cheeks and you giggle like a teenage girl. “You too Josh.”

“I try.” he sighs. The air is silent between the two of you, and you struggle to not break down and tell him how much he means to you and how sorry you are for everything. Josh always had a way of making you feel sentimental, especially now. 

The silence seems to weigh you both down, and when neither of you can take it, you open your mouth to speak first. “Did you ever think of me?”

Josh is quiet in front of you, but you’re too embarrassed to look at him right now, so you stare at his blankets below you.

“What do you mean-”

“Just tell me I meant something.” you say, opening a part of your heart to him no one has seen before. You feel stupid, this isn’t a book, but the love you two shared as kids, felt like it could be one. 

“You did.” he says immediately. “Of course you did. You were my best friend.”

His voice wavers as he speaks, making your heart fall. You’d imagined this conversation for so long, what you would say and how he would react. Would he take you in his arms and allow you to cry into his shoulder? Or would he cup your cheeks and kiss your lips? You had so many things to say to him, most of them coming to you on nights you couldn’t sleep. But now that your opportunity is here, your mind is blank.

He scoots closer to you, his knee brushing against yours. You still can’t bear to look at him, especially since your face is as red as a beet and tears well in your eyes. His fingers push a strand of hair behind your ear before gracing your cheek. You shutter at the touch, a long breath drawing from your lips. One hand cups your face, the other rests softly on your knee. He lifts your eyes so they meet his, and you find he too is feeling the same way you do. 

“Maybe we should let this go.” your lip quivers, but you try to keep your voice steady and convincing. 

“I don’t think I can handle letting this go–letting you go.” he shuts his eyes.

“Josh, don’t. Please don’t.” you beg pathetically, standing to your feet to escape his grasp. “I can’t let you do this.”

“What?” 

His tone makes you feel like you’ve misread the whole moment, but Robin’s words reply themselves in your mind. “Look at you! You have a mustache and a full head of hair. You wear khaki pants and long white t-shirts with beaded necklaces hanging across your chest. You’re a popular rock band that tours around the world. You’ve won a Grammy for crying out loud!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asks.

“We’ve changed, Josh. It’s all too different.” your voice shakes and you wrap your arms around your body to help comfort yourself. Josh runs a hand over the back of his neck, breathing out of his mouth loud enough for you to hear.

“We have changed. That’s how things work. It’s been five years since we’ve last interacted-”

“That wasn’t my fault!” you raise your voice, a tear spiraling down your cheek.

Josh pauses and stares for a moment. “I know. I know. We were dumb and didn’t know what the world would hold for us. But we do now.” he stands to his feet. “I’ve been with others, I’ve tried to move on but I physically can’t when you’re in my blood. I see a leaf the color of your hair and my heart sinks. I thrift sweaters and immediately think of you because in a perfect life, they’d be our sweaters.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you’re stunned and at a loss for words. Not ever did you imagine Josh would think about you this way. It wasn’t an insecurity, it was a fact. He was a rockstar, traveling the world, anyone he wanted at his fingertips. Josh’s face is red and he rubs his face a few times, gathering himself. This was clearly not the way either of you expected tonight to go. You take a step back, feeling like he deserves some space. 

“I never knew.” is all you are able to say. 

“Never knew?” he asks, confusion and hurt coating his voice. “I watched you study for hours. I cooked for you every chance I got. We had matching keychains. I spent every day with you. I wrote songs about you and now sing them on stage for thousands of people.” he informs you. Your heart is beating inside your chest at an insane pace as you imagine Josh writing and singing songs about you. You search for the words to tell him how you feel, but he beats you to it. “Y/N. Remember the 4th of July our junior year? We sat in the lawn with nail polish and I watched you paint your nails. You asked me if I wanted mine done–which I didn’t– but I was looking for any excuse to feel your hand in mine, so I let you.”

Still standing away from him, you lick your lips. He did let you do that, but you never thought anything of it until now. It all makes sense now. “When you’d ask me to rub your back or put sunscreen on you, I’d write you messages.” you admit, his eyes watching you. “I spelled that I loved you.”

A second later, Josh’s hands cup your cheeks and his lips connect to yours. He sucks the breath out of you, and you step backwards. He pushes you until you’re sandwiched between him and the wall. Your lips work at his, passionately taking him in. His hands wrap around your head, cradling it as yours work at his curls. His tongue traces your bottom lip, and you moan into him and allow him access. Your tongues dance together like they’ve done it a million times. It all seems natural, the way his body feels warmly pressed against yours and the sounds of your mouths working together. When his hands trace down the sides of your dress and he squeezes at the back of your thigh, you jump into him. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you can barely feel his length against your heat. It’s enough to make you tug on his hair a bit tighter. 

With his hands still stationed on your thighs, he stumbles to his bed, laying you down carefully. Your lips pull apart just long enough that he’s able to remove his necklaces and his shirt. You watch him above you, his cheeks pink and his skin smooth. The tip of his tongue rests on his lip as he tosses his shirt to the side and averts his attention back to you. You’re both smiling when your lips connect, your teeth gently knocking against each other. He places gentle kisses across your nose and forehead before trailing down to your ears and neck. He sucks gently on your skin as your hands rub the skin of his torso. He’s smoother than ever, and you feel safe under his touch. His hands work the necklaces around your neck and he sets them next to his before kissing the straps to your black dress. Your hands are tucked away in his hair as he drags both straps down, his eyes never leaving yours. Once they’re off, he pauses before continuing. You nod to him, using your own hand to help him remove the rest of the fabric. With a wink, he continues.

Once your breasts are exposed completely, he sits up slightly, taking you in. You feel like an angel as his eyes sweep over you. “You’re the prettiest human I’ve ever met.” he says softly as he places his lips on your hardened nipple. You suck in a breath as his wet lips take you into his mouth. One hand is gripping your hip while the other plays with your uncovered breast. He laps at the skin, his tongue swirling in every direction. He switches, the hand on your waist now massaging your tit that once had his mouth on it. With a pop and a pathetic whine from you, he lets go. You instantly try and shimmy out of the rest of the dress, but his hands grab your wrists and pin them above your head.

“I’ve waited so long for this, let me do it.” he says in a silky voice. 

His fingers pull the whole thing off your body, leaving you in nothing but a skimpy thong that hides nothing. He’s hard and pressed against your leg, his teeth gritted as he notices the patch of wetness in your panties. Cursing to himself, he kisses your lips again while his hands travel down your navel. His fingers are a fire, igniting a forest as he trails them along your sticky skin. As you swallow his lips, his fingers tug on the waistband of your panties. Unknowingly, your hips grind into him and he hisses. His middle finger dances across your heat, the thin line of fabric keeping you from his skin. His lips are still on yours and he swallows every whimper you give him. 

“Please, Josh.” you manage to pull away long enough to speak. He smirks before sliding his hand into your panties. As a finger gathers your arousal, you wrap your hands around Josh’s neck and pull him back into your lips. The single pad of his finger runs quick circles over your aching bundle of nerves a few times before he slides it in. You’re too lost in his touch to feel embarrassed of the whine that escaped your mouth, but he seems to enjoy it. 

“More.” you ask, and he delivers, slamming a second finger in with the first. Your body jumps and he giggles. You smack his arm once before latching onto it to keep you steady.

“Can I go down on you?” he breathes in your ear. 

“You don’t have to.” you squeak.

“I didn’t ask that, did I? I asked if I could.” he grunts, nipping at the skin of your neck.

“Yes. Fuck, please.” 

He removes his fingers and makes quick work of your panties, tossing them into the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Placing one last kiss on your nose, he trails down your body. You spread your legs for him, eyes shining at the view of him between them. He coolly blows on your cunt and you shiver as he does. When his finger drags itself through your wetness and his lips connect with your bud, your hands grip the sheets. He licks a long stripe from top to bottom, sucking on your clit for a few seconds. 

“You taste like honey, mama.” he coos, the vibrations adding to the pleasure.

He tenderly eats you out, paying close attention to what your body does and doesn’t like. His eyes watch you as he works, noting your facial expressions and your breathing. No one you’d ever been with has paid such attention to you like this, but the fact Josh does, doesn’t surprise you. 

He laps at your cunt, fingers buried inside of you. When he finds your specific spot, he curls roughly into you and your hands shoot to his hair. He giggles gently again, working fast circles into your pussy as your fingers grip his head. The feeling of his mustache against your folds makes for a delightful experience. The pit in your stomach grows quickly and before you know it, you’re catapulted over the edge. With your hips bucking into Josh’s face, you unravel below him, stars shooting through the black of your eyelids.

Once you’ve come down from your high, you release his hair and throw your arms behind your head. He kisses along the insides of your thighs, cleaning up all of your release. Sliding his fingers into his mouth, he sucks them dry with a shit eating grin. With arms on either side of your head, he lowers himself back onto you, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair.

“How am I expected to eat anything else ever again?” he quips, earning an exhausted laugh from you. “You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m happy with this.” he tells you softly.

“No, I want to.” you tell him. 

He nods and rolls onto his back. You straddle him first, kissing his face. Then, you slide down, your tits dragging across his bare skin. You bite your lip at the friction, and he watches you through hooded eyelids. When you palm him through his pants, he lays his head back, mouth open. You unbutton him and slide both his pants and boxers down at the same time. You toss the material on to the floor before giving him your full attention. His cock sits against his stomach and you drool at the vein running across the length of him.

He hisses as you take him into your hand, gently wrapping your fingers around him. You drag your tongue across the tip of him, cleaning up the precum that glistens before you. He perches on his elbows and watches you–ass in the air– take him into your mouth. His eyes roll back and he grunts when he reaches the back of your throat. You toy with him for a few seconds, letting your tongue and fingers mess with his length. When his hands grip your hair and pull you away from him, you frown.

“I love this so much, but I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

“Maybe I want you to cum.” you dare, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Fuck, you little shit.” he groans, moving away from you. “How do you want it?”

“However you want it.” you smile. He shakes his head, a wide grin on his lips.

“Lay on your back for me baby.” he directs and you listen embarrassingly fast. 

“I’m on the pill.” you quickly tell him, marveling at the idea of him finishing inside of you. He pulls his lip between his teeth and kisses you gently, situating himself between your legs.

When his tip runs through your folds, you open your mouth and lay your head back, leaving your neck open. He sucks on it as he sits at your entrance. You feel as if you may explode if you have to wait one more minute to feel him inside of you.

“You’re so wet. Fuck.” he whimpers, finally slipping himself into you.

In unison, you both moan. When he’s buried deep inside of you, you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him in place. He kisses your cheek and then finds your lips, his hands on your hips. Once you tell him to move, he pulls out before slamming back into you until his pubic hair meets yours. His hips continue to snap into yours, the sound of skin filling the room. You cry his name and he buries himself into your neck. His mouth opens and his teeth latch onto your skin. He doesn’t bite, but you can feel his top set marking your shoulder. The whole idea makes you clench around him. He removes his teeth and rests his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek. He mumbles above you, his sweaty curls in your eyes.

“You feel so good.” you say and his eyebrow knit together closely. “So big, baby.”

“Jesus.” he cries, his thrusts getting a bit sloppier.

“Gonna cum, Josh?” you pant, trying to tip him over the edge. “Do it.”

With a groan, he removes himself from you and grabs your waist to move you to your stomach. When he taps your side, you raise yourself on all fours, sticking your ass up. He slides himself through you again, a trail of spit leaving his mouth and falling onto your pussy. He slides in again but doesn’t stop to allow you to adjust. His hips snap furiously into your ass, pornographic noises clouding your judgment. He unties the ribbon in your hair and uses his hand to mess it up a bit. Grabbing a handful, he pulls you up to him and kisses your cheek. You whine at the position, mouth hanging open as you fall apart. In one swift motion, he shoves you down into his pillow, your cries being silenced. Screaming his name, he holds your head in the pillow. You can hear him grunting above you, painting an image in your mind you’ll never be able to shake away from.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re gripping me so tight. You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he taunts.

“Nope.” you say, your voice in shambles along with the rest of your body.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, this time, snaking a hand between your legs to work circles into your clit. You cry at the contact, trying to fight the feeling approaching in your stomach. “Fuck, mama. Cum for me, baby. Let it all go. Soak my cock.”

Doing as you’re told, you cum all over him. Your body is shaking rapidly as he still pounds into you. He’s chanting your name like it’s his religion as he lays his sweaty chest across your back. You’re still coming down from your high as he reaches his, lashing above you. You feel him paint the inside of you, all warm and wet. He falls onto you, both of your body’s exhausted.

After a few moments of being pancaked in between the bed and him, he lifts himself off of you and pulls himself out. Your body feels cold without him tucked away inside of you, but you’re thankful to get out of the position and breath. You stand and disappear into the bathroom while Josh changes the sheets. When you return, he’s under the covers waiting for you. You smile and so does he as you walk back to him–still completely naked. 

“I’m hard again just watching you walk back here.” he says, pulling back the covers for you. You smack his arm playfully and take a sip of your water. 

Setting it down, he grabs your waist and pulls you down on top of him. You laugh as you fall on him, crushing him. Instead of pushing you off of him, he holds you tighter on top of him. You let him have his moment, his love language has always been physical touch. Enjoying the moment, you hold his head in your arms, your nose buried into the damp curls on his head.

Eventually, you slide down so your head is resting on his chest. You both lay there in silence. You listen to his heart and breathing, your eyes beginning to shut. You’re not per say, tired, but being in Josh’s arm in his room at this exact moment, makes you want to forget the outside world around you. But of course, you’re not lucky enough for that.

“Can we talk about this?” he says quietly, his lips pressed against the crown of your head.

“I just want to enjoy this, Josh.” you say. 

“Me too. But I can’t enjoy this until I know how you’re feeling.” You rotate yourself so your chin is on Josh’s chest, the fronts of your bodies pressed together. He looks exhausted, but somehow more beautiful than ever. His face is still red with a sheen of sweat over it. His curls are frizzy and lay lifelessly atop his head, casting a shadow over his eyes. “So will you talk to me?”

You nod. “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what? Us?” when all you offer is silence, he gets the drift. “Is this because of what happened on graduation night?” Once again, your eyes fail to meet his so they stare at the soft skin you’re resting on. “You know I meant nothing of what I said that night.”

“You mean when you told me I’m holding you back from your dreams?” Your voice is hoarse and cold.

“Is that why you didn’t want anything to happen between us? Because I said that so long ago?” he asks. His tone isn’t snippy or rude, it’s curious and a bit hurtful. His breathing hitches below you, letting you know he’s nervous for what comes next.

“No, Josh. I’m afraid if you realize your feelings for me, I really will hold you back from your dreams.” you admit in a low tone.

“I realized years ago.” 

“And you succeeded after I let you go.” your voice is raspy and you can feel your bottom lip quiver.

“I succeeded because I was able to leave here. It had nothing to do with you. How many times did I want to quit growing up? You never let me. You pushed me just as hard as Jake did.”

You cover your face with your hands, trying to hide your expressions. He pulls them into his hands and gives you a blank expression. “Josh, I can’t–”

“I don’t care if my career is ruined, that’s not what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid I’m going to love you more than I’ll ever be allowed to.” he says firmly. Your heart burns as your eyes meet his. They’re glossed over and filled with emotion, so much, you can hardly stare at him any longer. 

“I love you.” you sputter out. “I want to be with you–”

“See? So let’s be together.” he says, a smile engulfing his face. He cups your cheeks, dragging you in for another kiss. 

“Okay.” you melt into his touch. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Really?” he asks. “I won’t ask you to give up anything. We’ll work around your life.” 

Your cheeks are a bright red as you drop your head onto Josh’s chest. His arms cover your back, holding you tightly into his body. Skin to skin, you feel more seen than ever before. He’s your home, you realize that now. After being apart from him for so long, you got used to the pain in the corner of your heart. But after tonight, you know the pain will never subside. 

“I’m sorry I never answered your calls or texts.”

“Shh. I want to enjoy the moment.” he mocks your words from earlier. All you’re able to do is laugh at him and tuck yourself back into his arms.

You lay awake, listening to his breathing. The sound consoles you, lulling you to sleep. Your mind wanders about your future with him, the years wasted pushed behind you. You’re surprised it took you so long to realize who was the one for you. 

It had been him all along afterall.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka smut #sam kiszka #greta van fleet smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka gvf #josh kiskza fanfic #josh kiskza smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #jake gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #gvf

[ihavethedreamies]

First Kisses | NCT Dream

NCT Dream - All Members

Rating: E for Everyone

Word Count: About 300 for each, so about 2k total

Pairing: NCT Dream x GN!Reader (Separate)

Genre: Reader-Insert, Drabble, Fluff

Summary: Your first kiss with each member of NCT Dream!

Author's Note: I have never wrote drabble-length things before, so I am proud of myself I kept these so short.

I tried to keep these gender-neutral, so let me know if I didn't, but it might still be slightly implied in these the reader is AFAB, I don't think so though…

PS. Mark's and Haechan's are different from the ones for 127…

-> NCT 127 <-

-> WayV <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Mark

"You like someone?!" Mark's voice was way too loud, so you shushed him harshly, pressing on his shoulder to get him to sit back down. Luckily, the fast-food joint had very few people in it, but it just made his shout all the more obvious. "Shush!" You sighed, resting your forehead in your hand. "Yes." "Who?" He didn't sound curious, but it was hard to pinpoint his tone. "Why do you care?" It was him, but you couldn't just announce it right then. He had ruined the mood, plus it was not the place for a confession. "Is it Jeno?" "No." "Jaemin?" "No." "Donghyuck?!" He sounded mad and you looked around, shushing him again. "No! It's not any of our friends." You hoped that your vague answer was enough. "Who is it? What if he doesn't deserve you!?" "It's you, dumbass!" You had hoped to be sweeter about the confession, but your voice was laced with irritation. His upset facial expression fell, red slowly deepening on his face and the tips of his ears. Rubbing your temple, you nodded apologetically to the older couple nearest your table. "It's me?" "Yes." You brushed it off, continuing a normal conversation, changing the subject. He was only kind of listening; you could see his brain going into overdrive. He finally mentioned it again as you left the place. You were walking down the street, past an empty playground. His hand grabbed yours, spinning you to him. Mark's lips pressed to yours, soft at first, then he deepened it with a groan. When he pulled back, he smirked then as the tables had turned, your face red. "I like you too."

Renjun

He shoved past people, nearly knocking someone over as he fought through the crowd. He wished he wasn't so damn short, weaving through people looking for you. The crowd had formed around the bus, the big vehicle lying on its side, windows cracked and broken. The utility truck that had smashed into it had then hit a pole, smoke rising out of the front. That was the bus you were normally on; he knew it because he had been waiting for you to get off. The bus was so close to the stop down the road that he saw the accident, then ran to the scene. "Watch it!" Someone snapped as he shoved again, still looking for you. "Renjun?" His heart leaped when he heard you, turning around quickly to see you standing on the edge of the crowd. Your phone was in your hand, and you were taking one of your ear buds out. "(Y/N)!" He surged forward, shoving one more person so hard they stumbled, and before you could ask anything else, his arms were around you. You let out a soft, 'oof' your ear bud falling from your hand onto the pavement, luckily you held your phone firm. Renjun was breathing harshly, his cheek pressed to the side of your head, and you felt a tear that fell from his eye. "What happened?" You asked, looking at the bus crash. You were going to get on it like usual, but the bus was full, so you decided to walk instead. Renjun pulled back, his hands cupping your cheeks, turning your head to look over you. "Are you okay?" He was still breathing hard. "Yes? I walked…" You glanced back at the accident, but his hands still on your face, kept you from looking too well. Renjun sighed hard, and turned you back to look at him, capturing your next words with his lips. You squeaked in surprise, then melted into the kiss. It was desperate, not soft, and quick like you thought your first would be. When he finally pulled away, he pulled you back into a hug. Your mind reeled from the whirlwind of events, but you hugged him back, standing in his embrace so he could revel in the fact you weren't hurt.

Jeno

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jeno had noticed your stare. You blinked to snap yourself out of it, eyes flitting away from his lips to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?" You hummed coyly, taking a sip of your drink. He scoffed playfully. "You've been ogling me more than usual today." He smirked and you glared insincerely. "I have no idea what you are going on about." You brushed it off and you two continued your meal. Dates between you two were not all that much different than when you two would hang out as friends, but there was a lot more flirting going on, of course. Casually drinking your iced coffee, you looked out the window, pretending to people watch. You were able to see his reflection in the glass. Jeno huffed amused, but let it go. As you were walking down the street, not heading anywhere in particular, his fingers linked around yours and you tried to keep your face neutral at the little act. When you two were walking past a park, he halted, his hand in yours pulling you to stop as well. Turning to look at him in question, he watched carefully as your eyes flitted over his face, lingering on his lips before going to his own. "You really want to kiss me that bad?" He smirked and your face turned red so fast he thought steam would come off of it. Were you that obvious? "W-what do you…" You swallowed and he stepped forward, so he was much closer. Glancing around, there was no one in sight, so he leaned in, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth. What a tease he was. You grunted, annoyed, and before he could fully laugh, your arms were around his neck. Jeno allowed you to haul him down to your level, lips sealing over his tightly. Since you were in public, he pulled back before the kiss could deepen further, tongue brushing your lower lip still. "Good?" He smirked. "Yes~"

Haechan

When you walked into the living room, you had not expected your roommate to be home, let alone spread like a starfish in the middle of the room. "Hyuck?" You questioned him and he gave an acknowledging grunt. "What are you doing?" "Contemplating life. Having an existential crisis." His tone was uncharacteristically flat, but it was clear he was being overdramatic. "Why?" You stopped next to him, and his gaze met yours, looking up at you like a kicked puppy. "You're going to the beach without me…" He pouted and you rolled your eyes. "Hyuck, it’s a family trip. Only family and significant others are going, not friends…" "I'm just a friend?!" He sat up quickly as you left his side, going to the kitchen. You wondered if he got a head rush. "You're my roommate, which is friend category." You jumped when you turned around, he was right there. "Freaking- what?!" You furrowed your brow along with him. "Can't I be a significant other?" His question further threw you off and you just gaped. "W-what?" "Take me as your boyfriend!" "But you're not my boyfriend!" "I am now!" He declared, his hand going to the back of your head, yanking you closer, kissing you to prevent any retort. After getting over the initial shock, you melted into the kiss, and followed after when he pulled back. "Yeah?" His stupid smirk made you want to smack him. "Fine…come as my boyfriend."

Jaemin

"Guess what?" His tone made you roll your eyes. He dropped his bag on the couch next to you and sneered up at him. "What?" You grimaced when he flopped down between you and his bag, sitting back confidently, ankle resting on his opposite knee. "I found out that someone likes me." "A lot of people like you, Jaemin. You have a mirror." You huffed, going back to your show, but he took the remote and paused it again. "I know who." "Yeah?" Your heart skipped; nervous he had figured you out. Hopefully, it was someone else, literally anyone else. Jaemin leaned it, his stupid smirk had evolved into the incredibly sexy one he knew just how to use. "It's you, (Y/N)." He chuckled and you tried to keep your face flat, but he saw your skin tinting pink, almost reddening. "W-who told you that?" "You did." "WHAT?!" You wondered what the hell he was talking about. You hadn't been drunk lately… "You read my letter to my mom!?" "I mean… It was just on the table…" "Ass-munch!" You lunged at him, tackling him back on the couch, landing on top of him. You grabbed the collar of his hoodie, hauling him up to glare at him. Instead of playing along with your fake aggression, he tilted his head, licking your lips. You dropped him, he bounced on the cushions, then he grabbed your waist, rolling forward so you were under him. His lips stopped your protest and you immediately melted, letting him kiss you. Jaemin pulled back, still with that stupid smirk. "You dick." You sneered, pulling him back down.

Chenle

After another extremely dramatic sigh from Chenle next to you, you stopped tying on your laptop, looking at him. "What now?" "I'm bored." He mumbled and you rolled your eyes. "Lele, we are going to be on this plane for another eight and a half hours, figure something out." You went back to typing and he groaned again. Luckily, he was filthy rich and so you both got to fly in the lap of luxury of first class. For the next fifteen minutes, you half-heartedly listen to him complain about this and that, before he stopped talking abruptly. Casting him a side glance to see what might have piqued his interest, he dug into his backpack, pulling a red box out. Pepero sticks. "What?" You had a feeling where he was going with it, your face a bit warm. He said nothing, for once, and tore the box open, pulling the chocolate covered biscuit stick out. He placed one end in his mouth, leaning closer, his implication clear. You huffed, closing your laptop, relenting. Maybe for once you could call his bluff. Sealing your lips around the other end, you both began to chew on it, lips getting closer and closer to each other. He still remained strong, so when there was barely any left between you, you sealed the deal. Your lips hit it, the rest of the candy entering your mouth. Though, when you went to pull back, he grunted, hand flying to the back of your head, bringing you back to him, kissing you harder. When he let you go, he laughed at your red face. You cursed him out under your breath, and he laughed harder.

Jisung

You were starting to ramble, panicking at his reaction. When you let it slip out of your mouth, you hadn't even registered, you had confessed. The tone was casual, so much so, he almost didn't catch your meaning. You told him that when a classmate had asked you for his contact, you told her no. You added that you two were more than friends to get her off the topic. This, however, was NOT true. When he asked why you did that, your reply was simple, "Cause you're mine-" He halted his stride and that made you stop too. That's when you started spewing out words, face hot, stomach flipping. So focused on finding the right explanation, you didn't notice Jisung move closer. By the time your eyes met, his big hands cradled your jaw and his lips softly met yours. He swallowed your gasp, pressing closer, his nerves quickly fading. Once you were over the initial shock, you kissed back, your own hands gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt over his ribs. Finally pulling away from each other, you both smiled bashfully, but didn't step away. Jisung even still had his hands on your jaw, thumb stroking the soft, flushed skin of your cheek. "If I'm yours, does that mean you're mine too?" His shyness was growing back at his own words. You blinked, then giggled, fingers messing with his hoodie zipper. "I'm yours, Jisung." Your smile grew when he leaned back in, lips ghosting over yours when he replied. "Let's be each other's then."

-> NCT 127 <-

-> WayV <-

Masterlist

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop drabbles #kpop fluff #x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct #nct dream #nct mark #nct dream mark #nct renjun #nct dream renjun #nct jeno #nct dream jeno #nct haechan #nct dream haechan #nct jaemin #nct dream jaemin #nct chenle #nct dream chenle #nct jisung

[brodieland]

Hi! I saw you write for Leo Valdez and I was wondering if you could do Leo with an S/O who was born and raised in Washington state and like anything about Bigfoot like S/O has a few merchandise of Bigfoot and is used to seeing Bigfoot themed stuff (stuff like coffee shops and playing cards) but other then that have a great day/night!

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Bigfoot and soda !! ´ˎ˗

Leo Valdez x Fem!Dionysus!Reader Synopsis: going on a roadtrip with Leo, you drove through the town you grew up, and you show him your favorite myth, Bigfoot!! Warning(s): BLURB, but none, crazy right? Word Count: 304 A/N: love when you guys send me request, makes me feel lit af. hope u have a great day/night as well!!!

Roadtrips with your boyfriend may be one of the best ways to spend your summer. With the windows down, with the hair blowing through your hair, Leo thought you looked beautiful. As you passed through Washington, it was like driving through memory lane.

"Gods, it's been forever since I'd last been here," you muttered in awe as Leo pulled into a parking lot. You both stopped at a convenience store to stock up with more snacks and drinks for the road.

When you walked in, you both went over to get some food. While you were picking stuff out, you didn't realize Leo had wandered off. You turned back around, eyebrow quirked as you were confused as to where your boyfriend went. "Leo?"

"Over here," he called out from the next aisle. You went to go find him and saw him standing in the middle of the mini Bigfoot 'exhibit.' "Isn't this the one you have back at camp?"

He held up a Bigfoot funko pop. "Yeah, I have the squatch too."

"Wait, isn't the full name like 'Sasquatchanakwa' or something?"

You smiled. "No babe, that's from Total Drama Island, I fear."

"Same thing," he shrugged. "Why's Bigfoot such a big thing here, no pun intended of course."

"He was spotted nearby. I love myths like this," you thought for a second. "But considering Greek gods and myths are real, maybe so is Bigfoot?"

"Yeah no, kinda hope not. I'd barely reach his shin."

"You'd be like gum under his foot," you both chuckled.

"Oh my gods, look at this," Leo brought up a pair of socks that had words on the bottom of them. The first one said 'you know what they say,' and the second one said 'about guys with big feet.'

"I think you should buy them baby," you winked.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #leo hoo #leo valdez hoo #leo valdez pjo #leo pjo #Leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez fluff

[scuttlingcrab]

A Devil's Lament

Summary: Raphael brings Tav to an abandoned chapel, hoping to complete one final task before he begins his conquests of the Hells.

Notes: I was inspired by my friend Mark Choi and his announcement of a new piano arrangement of "Down By The River." I desperately needed to see Raphael playing not just a piano, but a pipe organ. And what would suit the occasion? Our favourite Devil playing a song he had composed over a millenia ago, after he first lost the Crown of Karsus...

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via certifieddilfenjoyer)

There once stood a magnificent chapel along the road to Baldur’s Gate. Mortals came from far and wide to bask in its glory, seek refuge from whatever sorrows afflicted them, and pray to the deity it was erected to honour. However, like most beautiful things on this plane, it was slowly worn down from one conflict after another, until it merely stood as a dilapidated relic of a time gone by.

On a particularly humid evening, nearly one year after the Elder Brain’s assault on Faerûn, Raphael found himself with Tav on the outskirts of the chapel, staring fondly at his old stomping grounds. No place was off limits when it came to his Devilish business, and the various religious structures scattered across the realms always proved to be the most lucrative. Raphael partook in his favourite game of hunting mortals in the very establishments they trusted, luring them into his traps with fanciful proposals of fortune and glory. 

The Devil never settled on the weaker creatures unless there were no other alternatives, but it was the clerics and overly righteous he craved. There was nothing more joyous than watching their resolve slowly decay after his cunning verbiage and skillful charms got under their skins. Their potent souls were simply delectable, and worth all the time and effort to acquire them.

“So what are you planning?” Tav asked, stopping Raphael from reminiscing any further. “I thought you said we had no time to waste.” 

“Walk with me, if you will, there is a final task I must complete before we are to continue.” 

Raphael had already started on the path ahead and Tav quickly jogged to keep up, the stones crunching beneath her boots. He smiled to himself at the notion of her, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, running after him.

As Raphael strode through the remains of the toppled structure, he searched for something far more valuable than the achievements of past meals. Raphael was after the heart and soul of the old chapel, the instrument responsible for the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his lifetime. The chapel’s pipe organ.

He heaved a sigh of relief to find the instrument still nestled at the far end of the rubble, under a canopy of overgrown trees. He had not been back since the fight against the Absolute, and in truth feared for the worst. Raphael would never let that spectacular creation suffer the same fate due to the failures of mortalkind, but he too had neglected it; spending the last few months muddled in the intricacies of reforging the Crown of Karsus.

The Devil had often argued with himself about whether or not to bring the pipe organ to the House of Hope. He had an idyllic place for it on his atelier balcony, overlooking the River Styx and barren wastelands of Avernus. But doing so would open him up to countless interruptions and he’d lose what he valued most: his precious solitude. He would never risk it.

“A marvel…” Raphael whispered, tilting his head up to admire the towering organ, the 3,000 golden pipes glistening in the darkness. 

His eyes attentively moved across the pipes, carefully inspecting every surface for signs of damage. It was no secret that Raphael cherished the instrument, nearly as much as the Crown he had desired for over a millenia. It was Raphael’s own toy box, it could imitate nearly any orchestral instrument with just a few minute actions unnoticeable to the common mortal. The organ could do wonders above and beyond any grand piano, or even any symphony. With this tool, Raphael was his own maestro, having the power to freely weave his own melodies into existence and escape into the futures he so desperately desired. 

“This hunk of junk? It’s practically falling apart.” 

“I will not hear another peep from you.”  Raphael hissed, turning to face Tav. He raised his finger threateningly towards her, as if scolding a small child. 

Tav raised both of her hands apologetically, though there was still a hint of impishness in her smile as she took a step back.

“Sorry. Carry on then…” 

Raphael sniffed sharply, in an attempt to keep his infernal flames at bay. As powerful and useful as that mortal was, she was a constant irritant; pushing Raphael closer and closer to his boiling point the more time he spent with her. And yet, they were inseparable since Tav had gifted the Crown to Raphael. Of all the creatures, in all the wretched planes, that little mouse had to be the one to fall into his claws, leaving a lasting effect on him.

He quickly redirected his attention to the pipe organ, brushing off the rotten twigs and dirt from the three keyboards. He snapped his fingers and a leather bench appeared, replacing the one that had broken long ago. 

Raphael eagerly took his seat, lightly running his feet over the pedalboard to test it was still functional. He then prepared the various stops along the edges of the organ, choosing his intended octaves for the serenade to come. 

After a few more minutes of fiddling with the organ, making sure all the divisionals were arranged accordingly, he was ready to begin. 

With another snap of Raphael’s fingers, sheet music took shape before him. The chosen melody had been etched into his memory for a thousand years, yet he still brought out the yellowing sheets of paper whenever he dared to play it. Like the ruins surrounding him, the pages were close to deteriorating, slowly withering away at the edges. 

The music notes were barely legible, the ink having faded a century or two earlier. Raphael dared not handle the pages by hand, as they would crumble at the slightest touch. Seeing the pages again were oddly comforting to the Devil, a sign of how far he has come. As painful as it was to revisit the meaning behind the music, the moment would always be part of Raphael, no matter how often he tried to consign it to oblivion. 

The Devil took a deep breath and pressed his fingers against the keys. His exhale matched the roaring bellow that emerged from the pipes. Energy surged through his hands as he played the beginning of the piece, his feet moving to a completely different rhythm against the pedalboard. The low notes coming from his feet accompanied the lighter ones from his fingers, creating a flawless harmony. 

The sounds of the pipe organ soon filled the air, echoing around him like lost ghosts wailing in the dark. It was haunting, exquisite, and a perfect representation of his internal strife. It was Raphael’s lament - the anguish, vexations, and seething hatred from all the years of his existence poured through his own spirit into the instrument. The reverberations from the pipes shook the trees above Raphael, causing the leaves to fall like snowflakes. 

These same feelings had fuelled Raphael’s drive and ambition since he was a young Devil. He was discarded by Mephistopheles and left to rot in the deepest, darkest parts of the Hells; forced to suffer for a sin he had not committed. Raphael still found his way, against all odds, and survived every obstacle thrown at him. He learned how to rely only on himself, to play the game of the Hells, and quickly rise up the ranks by tipping the scales in his favour. He had ruthlessly betrayed allies and levelled entire cities, and he would do it a hundred times over if it meant he was closer to fulfilling his destiny of uniting the Nine Hells. He would show his father how powerful and capable he truly was. 

As Raphael continued, he let himself get lost in the tempo, not questioning where his hands went next, which stops he pulled, or where his feet would take him. He soon found the keyboards were wet, had it begun to rain? He closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat as decades worth of repressed emotions started to bubble to the top. He felt his fingers slip on a key, and then another, causing him to miss a few notes, but he quickly amended the mistake. He opened his eyes in fury, only to realise that he was crying. He clenched his jaw, causing the tears falling down his cheeks to quickly evaporate as his body sizzled in anger; resenting himself and the situation, always such a fool to let these fleeting emotions get the best of him. 

He wasn't sure how long he had been playing, but his fingers throbbed as they continued to press against the keys. He wanted to continue, to replay the song again and again, to make sure it was perfect, but it was coming to its natural conclusion. He would need to leave it as is.

Raphael played the final notes, holding his fingers to the keys for an extra beat as the sounds slowly faded. He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hands. He lifted it up towards the music sheets and let the edges of the papers catch fire. The pages were devoured by the flames within a matter of seconds. Let the ashes of his lament stay within the ruins of the chapel.

“Gods…” Tav whispered, her voice choking with emotion. “Did you…?”

“I have never played that in front of another mortal. The first and last time you will ever hear such a piece.” 

“It was remarkable.”

“I know.” Raphael responded, rising from the bench.

He flicked his wrist and the Crown of Karsus materialised before them. He caught reflections of himself in the Crown as he stared at it, his visage splitting into broken shards against the material of the relic. Different versions of Raphael stared back at him, as if from alternate timelines, offering a range of glimpses into his future. He smiled at the reflections and the thought of what he might look like donning the Crown, fighting against Zariel and her forces, in all his glory. 

“It was a fitting farewell and one I had been looking forward to for a considerable amount of time. Now onto new beginnings, come.”

Tav didn’t wait for Raphael to create a portal, she jumped towards him, latching on to his arm. On previous occasions he would’ve shooed her away, like an irksome mosquito, but he let her stay clinging to him. Just this once, perhaps for his own comfort.

Tonight Raphael would write a different composition - one of celebration and conquest, that he would play throughout the decades to come, solidifying his reign.

#writing #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 raphael #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #raphael fanfic #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael #crown of karsus #bg3 tav #raphael bg3 x tav

[dee-the-red-witch]

Holy crap. I actually finished writing a story for the first time in AGES.

So, I'm gonna trat you all to the teaser for the draft post. Want the rest? Go hit the post link.

Old Ghosts

I'd felt bad about leaving this one to wait for so long, but to be fair, I hadn't known. You hear enough 'spectral hitchhiker' urban legends that you just tend to throw it off and dismiss it out of hand. Until someone had mentioned where. That was when memories clicked back together like tumblers in a lock and I knew where I had to be going next.

Central Washington. Just a bend of the road in westbound I-90, a bit west of vantage, still east of the pass by a good hour and change. It was the detail of the old power station and the trestle bridge that ran over the freeway that really picked it out in my head.

The problem was, it took timing. you didn't find ghosts by looking for them, you found them by being in the right place at the right time. I knew both, one from motorist stories, and the other from what I vaguely remembered, but it had to be exact. It was the fourth time when I finally got it right. Coming from the east, headed west, all intent on getting to Seattle before 9pm, and then there I was, entering the turns just past the windmills that now churned along the side of the road just past sundown, the sky that deep deep early spring blue that it hits just in between the sun disappearing and full black settling in. Thankfully they still hadn't installed the giant LED streetlamps over this stretch of I-90 yet. I don't know if those coming on would have broken the mood or not, but as I moved onto the shoulder and slowed down in the last turn right at the power station I could feel it. That tight whine in the back of the ear that I'd always associated with high-tension lines and towers, but had, in the last couple years, become an indicator of a few other things as well. I brought the car into the last turn, a left that took the freeway under the old trestle bridge now trail bridge in a few hundred more feetand parked it on the shoulder next to the guard rail, switching on the hazard lights and doing my best to hopefully be far enough off the freeway for anyone who slid a little too far right on the corner.

I stepped out, feeling the March wind rip at my skirt and coat, and was immediately glad I'd grabbed the thermal leggings underneath this time around. At least there wasn't snow. and then I saw it about fifty feet ahead of me- part of the guardrail twitched for a second, like a slightly-out of tune tv station, intact one moment, and a wide open broken gap in the rail the next, then back to unbroken steel on 4x4 supports. Fuck. I'd have to time this. I slowly approached it, keeping a count in my head. solid for thirty seconds, then intermittent flashing, then broken for a clean five seconds, back to intermittent and then solid. on a loop, thankfully so I wouldn't just be guessing, but still it was tight enough that I had reason to worry. try and walk though at the wrong time and I'd just hit the barrier of the rail and probably throw the whole thing off, wreck tonight completely. I watched it loop again, checking against the count in my head. When I got to twenty seconds of solid I closed my eyes and started counting down. Sometimes going in blind helped. Eight seconds. I took two steps forward, edging closer. Five. one more step, lining myself up with the gap I remembered. Three. Deep breath. One. I stepped forward, hard and fast, boots turning the loose roadside gravel ans I walked straight forward, through air that seemed to almost resist me for a moment, and then nearly fell down the steep slope on the other side, eyes opening in startlement as I slid for a few feet before catching myself.

Want more? Go get it here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/old-ghosts-102735746

#writing #fiction

[myeyesarebrighter]

I think I settled things with my MIL, I tried anyway. I explained today that my parenting is under a constant microscope, with my child’s behavior, and it is exhausting. Everyone has suggestions, questions, or just plain doesn’t agree. Anyone over 50 is hair on fire about medicating a child. Anyone with an adhd kid is like “yo for real just keep everyone alive mom!”

School is again kicking the can down the road, and I loaded a months worth of attachments from daily emails from the school to send to our education advocate. Another SEVERAL hours spent today sorting out ADHD related things. Tomorrow I’ll do the same. We won’t have an IEP meeting until til mid June. 3rd grade will officially be done, for bad or worse, and all I can hope is she’s got enough to start 4th strong. The school is saying it’s not worth doing anything at this point. I may just drive there and cry in someone’s office again.

Anyway. I also told husband he left me in the flames with his family, threw an extra log on, then walked off like a big coward and left me to protect his child. He basically hasn’t spoken to me and has moped around for 24 hours now. I’ll give a generous load of assuming the best - if I do, he’s probably feeling bad. That or he’s giving me the silent treatment, which is his family’s favorite coping mechanism. My family prefers to yell in each others faces, so you can see why this makes us both really fucking annoyed. I did a good job rage cleaning last night until i could compose myself enough to use few words, zero yelling, and a concise explanation of how he failed me. He robotically said he was sorry and has been shut down since. I have nothing nice to say anyway, so silence is fine.

Work is fine. I got an end table that matches my set tonight for super cheap in the clearance room. I’m sure it’s bc this set is 10+ years old and they’ve discontinued this dated “reclaimed” barn wood style for whatever else. But this shit is durable, has stood the test of 2 children and 3 houses, so I’m ride or die till it’s dead. It’s solid wood with distressed finish, so I think it’s pretty subjective about when dead is dead 😂

I need to make time for myself. I feel used up by the family and like I’m fraying at the seams. I can’t seem to find a reliable way to do that. Everyone needs too much right now. ADHD chaos factor has soaked up any time I used to be able to spare for me.

[sunflowerskies00]

sun to me, part 5

arms tied, legs numb, wrapped around my knee

series masterlist

"Luke Hughes," I put a hand on my hip as I stared him down across the room.

"Y/n," he pleads. He was very against the face masks I was trying to convince him to do. We were at my house tonight, not his. My roommates were all out, a rare occurrence in my house, so Luke had come to hang out with me since they didn't have a game or anything.

"It's good for your skin," I point my spatula for the mast at him.

"I don't care," he says. I narrow my eyes at him but lower my spatula, giving up on getting him to do a face mask with me.

"One day, you'll finally put this on your face and you'll realize that I've been right all along," I say.

"I doubt it," he shakes his head at me. I abandon the face mask and walk over to flop down on the couch. "How was practice?" He asks. My eyes cut over to him and obviously, the look on my face conveys it wasn't great because he winces. "Not great?"

"I don't know, Lauren is the most selfish person I've ever played with, it's awful. Coach Johnson is trying, but nothing is changing. She hasn't passed the puck a single time, I mean it's practice so no stakes obviously, but when she's giving up 4 or 5 goals each practice because she can't fucking pass, it's going to translate into games and we're going to fucking lose," I stare up at the ceiling.

"It's weird that she's made it this far with that flaw," He muses. I nod in agreement.

"I mentioned that to my roommates, and apparently the rest of her team in high school was so middle of the road that she was almost always given the puck to score or some shit, I don't know, it makes no sense to me," Luke has listened to me rant about some shit Lauren was pulling at practice almost every single day. I was about ready to just go off on her one day, but I think that could end up doing more damage for me in the long run, so I'd kept my mouth shut.

"You could always just lay into her," Luke sounds amused when he suggests what I'd been thinking.

"I've considered it, but I don't want to cause more problems."

"So, I have to listen to you rant every single day for the next several months?" I glance over at him to see an eyebrow raised at me.

"Yup, looks like it," I give him an over-enthusiastic smile.

"I think you should just beat her up," I narrow my eyes at his absolute trash suggestion. "Okay, fine, live in misery for the next however many months." I push myself off the couch and turn to look at Luke expectantly, waiting for him to stand as well. "What?"

"Let's go," I say.

"Go where?"

"I want food, and I have the need to go to a Target so let's go," I say. He groans but complies and pushes himself off the couch.

"Wait, are you driving?"

"Yes," I answer like that was a stupid question.

"But you're driving is scary," he mutters as we walk outside to the car. I shove his shoulder, shaking my head at him. I climb into the driver's seat, waiting expectantly for Luke to get in. "Whoever let you buy a giant ass truck needs to have their mental stability checked," he mumbles. I grab the pen from my cup holder and chuck it at him.

"I let myself buy this, and I am such a good driver, shut up."

"Right, and I'm the fucking president."

"Put your seatbelt on and shut up," I turn up my radio before backing out of the driveway, as Luke pulls on his seatbelt and pretends to pray.

------

Luke was currently regretting being my friend. I was sure of it. I was currently dragging him around Target as I browsed the store. I had no reason to come here, I just loved killing time here.

"Quit pouting," I point a finger at him.

"I'm not pouting," he retorts.

"You are, but if you stop, I'll take you for food," I say. He stops pouting and pretends to enjoy our trip through target.

"Have you talked to your brother recently?" He asks as we climb back into my truck. I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering where that's coming from. "Just about your lovely teammate and everything," he adds on.

"I talk to him like once a week, but I don't know, I don't like bringing up the negatives because I feel like he secretly wishes I had picked Michigan over Garden State," I admit. Luke looks floored by my revelation.

"Dude, he's so proud of you it's crazy, all he talked about was you getting offered a full ride to the best women's hockey program in the country and then when you got here last year, he talked about how you were on of the only freshman with a spot in the starting line up almost every week," Luke tells me.

"Really?" It comes out as a squeak. He nods.

"One bad thing isn't going to have him telling you to transfer, I'm sure he'd support your crazy fantasies of beating her up before helping with an actual solution," he says.

"You're pretty wise, y'know that?" I ask him. He rolls his eyes, deferring my statement so we can move on, seemingly embarrassed by my compliment.

"So, I was promised food?" He asks. I laugh, but nod, pulling out of the parking spot as Luke gets me to wherever he's wanting food from.

-------

When I walk back inside from saying goodbye to Luke in the driveway, my roommates are all back, sitting in our living room. It was funny how this is how I seemed to find them almost every single time I got back from hanging out with Luke.

"How was your evening with Mr. Luke?" Josie asks.

"It was good," I shrug. "We just went to Target and then we got food. And I bitched about Lauren but that's nothing new."

"Have you kissed him yet?" She asks.

"Josie," Ava starts laughing.

"It's a good question," Josie defends herself.

"No, we're just friends," I'm sure there's an amused look on my face.

"So boring, you have a tall, hot, NHL player who spends like all his free time with you, and you're not making out with him," Josie slumps back against the couch, crossing her arms across her chest. Ava, Lindsey, and I all try to stifle our laughter, highly amused by her theatrics.

"Do you want me to set you up with him?" I grin.

"No, I want you to have a friends to lovers romance, but you need to hurry it up, I'm impatient."

"Jo, I don't foresee that happening, ever." She narrows her eyes at me, but then shrugs.

"When you move past the denial, or whatever stage you're in, you'll see that I am so right." Lindsey and Ava both laugh and I just nod.

"Mkay, sure." I agree.

-------

liked by avamarie, lindseygrace, lhughes_06, and others

yourusername: life lately

tagged: avamarie, lindseygrace, josiej, and lhughes_06

avamarie: second pic goes hard

lindseygrace: fr y/n coming in with duck face yourusername: i'm brining it back josiej: please no

jackhughes: why tf are you flexing so hard lhughes_06

yourusername: fr I told him he looked dumb lhughes_06: you most definitely did not say that you just laughed yourusername: is that not the same thing?

josiej: 🤔🤨

lindseygrace: you read too many books avamarie: fr yourusername: gonna have to agree

lhughes_06: still think we should've bought the sunglasses

yourusername: still gonna say no to that. they were ugly lhughes_06: you just lack taste yourusername: sure ok we can go with that

username24: wait who is this girl and why are 2/3 of the Hughes commenting

username05: i think she's ethan edwards sister username12: she is, she also plays hockey at Garden State. she's like really good. i think she also plays defense- sam as her brother. username24: but are like her and luke dating? username12: bro idk it's not really our business and based on these photos i'd say no but again doesn't matter because it's not our business yourusername: dang ok hitting them with the facts username12

edwards.73: you befriending my friend and former teammate was not on my bingo card for the year

yourusername: that's tough yourusername: me and lukey are besties lhughes_06: please don't call me that edwards.73: don't terroize the poor guy too much lhughes_06: too late ^ she's a menace yourusername: oh says you lhughes_06

#umich hockey #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #jack hughes #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #ethan edwards

[grapejuicestyless]

So Long, London

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Years and years of love and affection couldn’t amount to the floods of tears that flooded the once prosperous city you danced through.

From a young age I’ve always wondered what death feels like. Those who have experienced it aren’t here to tell us their stories. Would it hurt, could I feel it clenching my heart in its dark grasp or would I sigh in my sleep and let the darkness take me with no sense of slipping away.

As I walk down the old roads I used to dance on, I understand the concept of it better now that my heals hit the concrete like bullet shells falling to the floor. The vibrant red brick seemed duller nowadays, moss covering the once new white concrete holding all these places I often visited together.

To me, death wasn’t the last breath of air in my lungs escaping, it wasn’t the melodic beeping of the machines beside me in a hospital room, but something that drowned me from the inside out.

His smell is stuck to all my clothes, his smile carved into the back of my phone case from the polaroids of us I kept for keepsakes for years. I can still hear his voice, it’s all around me in the people passing by on the street, the same accent fresh in my mind, his last words knives in my heart.

He swore that he loved me, but where were the clues? I died at the alter waiting for the proof. His green eyes flashing with mischief as he lied to my heart to keep me close, his bluest days tainting my mind, my endless sympathy forcing me to stay even with the gun stuck against the back of my head.

I don’t remember the end, only the feeling of my spine splitting under the weight of his body as I pulled him in closer each time he slipped out of reach. Only the fading of his smile as I gave up trying to make him laugh after so many failed attempts. The heart was dead, I stopped CPR after all, there was no use. Our love was long dead, lying buried with our faltering spirits. He killed me when he killed our relationship, two graves dug with one gun.

He swore that he loved me, and his face looked just like the man who said it to me and meant it, so I believed him as he led me down the street with his hands in his pockets.

For so long, I loved london. My clothes out of place, made for the states and carried across to my home where he laid in the dimming light of our sunroom. For so long, I held him and guided his heart to mine, I let him take parts of me I’ll never be able to rebuild. And I’m angry that I gave him all that youth for free, but I’m just mad as hell because I loved this place.

And he claims I abandoned the ship, he writes it in the songs on his albums and sends the troops to my front door, breaking down the home I just rebuilt but they’ll never know how I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding onto his quiet resentment.

But truly how much sad did he think I had left in me to give? How much tragedy? Just how low did he believe I could before I would self-implode, waiting for his grays and blacks to turn back into the vibrancy I fell so deeply in love with.

And as I walk these streets, his scent fading from my clothes, I can feel the color coming back to my face, and I feel bad for anyone who stops me on the streets and asks me to grab a coffee, because the hole in my heart is black and it’s pulling in anything in it’s path, it’s destructive and dangerous and it acts a lot like him.

He’ll find someone, my stitches will come undone and my heart will die as I lay silently on the empty floor of the apartment I never thought I would see again.

I have to leave, I know it even in this post-death mist. I am a ghost walking down these once euphoric streets we walked hand in hand across. I can’t let myself rot like he did, I won’t let myself get left behind like he intended.

And I’m just mad as hell because I once loved this place.

But for now, it’s so long, london.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #harrystyles #harry styles

[talentforlying]

priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly? constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you? priest: you did what...? constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?

constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know! and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!! ...

constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way. — hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"

babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)

anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.

80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.

and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?

hm. i just don't know about all that.

#also this is where my headcanons tag is from <3 #( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS. #( visage. ) AND I'M A BASTARD. #( character study. ) A WALKING PLAGUE OF A MAN. #sometimes i just think that. people really like to reduce constantine down to one or two things #and somehow. after 250 issues of putting his life on the line bc he could never really make himself look away from people suffering #the soft sullen guilty person who wants so fucking desperately to be a better man? is never one of those two things #idk man. i think about this issue all the time #if i put these pages side-by-side with his grief in hellblazer 2? with his grief in hellblazer 213? 215? during the empathy virus arc? #it becomes CRYSTAL clear that the guy we know at the end of hellblazer isn't someone the guy who sat vigil for gary lester would recognize #in fact i think he's someone that hellblazer 81 constantine would fucking Hate #ANYway yeah. i don't think he lied to dream about the pouch. i don't think he ever got it open. i don't think that's canon for me #i want him to fucking Earn his asshole nature. the hard way. by making All The Wrong Choices that it took to get him there #he paved that road with good intentions himself but. he also used to remember the ones he started with #idk if i'm making sense but i have had this panel open on my laptop for Two Months now #bc i can never stop thinking about how fucking crushed he is here to realize that he might be exactly as bad a man as sarah said he was #and how little it will surprise him later on to learn that he is Easily capable of So Much Fuckin Worse #and with that your honor the defense rests. our evidence? just. just Look at this fuckin guy #scopophobia / #scopophobia #eye contact / #eye contact tw