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jobean12-blog · 9 months

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Perfect Kind of Trouble

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,566

Summary: You’re new to the neighborhood and you’ve landed a great job bartending at one of the local spots. So far it’s been a good change and things are going smoothly, that is, until Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor, walks into your bar and sets his sights on you.

Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bucky chasing after a girl who gives him a run for his money! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Lots of fluff, flirting, tension, Bucky might be a bit possessive but in a good way and he definitely goes for what he wants and that’s you, some sass in there, Bucky is protective too :) and Nat is the best wingman ever!

“Oh my god, he’s here.”

You stop drying the glass in your hand and go stiff, side eyeing your friend Nat.

“Who Nat?”

She doesn’t answer and instead slides closer to you, leaning her head toward your ear.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Who?” you ask again, starting to crane your neck to look.

“Don’t!” she snaps then instantly softens her tone. “Just meet me in the back in two minutes and don’t make it look suspicious.”

You give her a tiny nod and go back to your work on the glasses but you can feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You can feel his stare.

“Ok. What the hell is up with you?” you ask when you shut the door to the back room.

She’s pacing back and forth and it’s making you nervous but when she meets your eyes you relax slightly at the smile on her face.

“Bucky Barnes,” she repeats.

“Yeah? And? I have no idea who that is!”

“Of course you don’t!” she muses. “You wouldn’t know because you only moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Righttt…so, who is he?”

“Just the perfect man.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows.”

You quirk your brow and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, everyone who lives in the neighborhood,” she laughs.

“If he’s so perfect I’m sure he’s married with two point five kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence.”

“There are no white picket fences in Brooklyn babe,” she says. “And you’d think that but he’s been a bachelor for as long as we know him.”

“Then he’s probably a player and an asshole!” you state.

“I mean sure, all the women, and men, talk about how hot he is and how much they want a shot and boy do they try but as far as I know he doesn’t date.”

“I don’t get it,” you say.

“Me neither!” she agrees. “But he hasn’t been at this bar in forever…”

“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?” you say with a shrug.

“OR MAYBEEEEEEEE,” she starts, her grin growing. “He heard there’s a new girl in town and he’s here to see you!”

“You’re insane! And he sounds like a player to me.” you huff. “I’m going back to work. Come on, you have to point him out to me. I at least want a look.”

“I won’t need to. You’ll know who he is…”

At her wistful tone you roll your eyes, pushing open the door and walking out with determined steps.

When you hit the bar you discreetly scan the seats. You don’t see anyone that stands out, mostly just the usual crew that shows up on a Saturday night for four-dollar drafts.

A customer calls you over and you head in his direction with a smile. You’re just greeting him and taking his order when you feel that familiar heat at your back, your skin tingling.

Once you’ve got the drink order you turn toward the bar only to lock eyes with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. It momentarily stops you in your tracks and if it weren’t for Nat lightly bumping your shoulder and whispering, “told ya so,” you would stay rooted to the spot to stare.

Instead you blink several times and look away, trying to remember what drink you’re supposed to make.

When you’ve finished making it you deliver it to the customer and try to take another peek down the bar.

“I’m not taking his drink order,” Nat singsongs when she comes to stand beside you. “That’s all you.”

Your mouth falls open and you give her a glare with narrowed eyes. She just smiles brightly and sashays to the other end of the bar to take another order.

With a huff of annoyance you square your shoulders and turn toward Bucky. As you approach him his eyes light up with his smile.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He returns your greeting and sticks his hand out.

“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.”

You wipe your hand on the towel at your side and shake his. The shock of electricity at his touch doesn’t seem to be one sided when you feel the slight squeeze from his hand. You introduce yourself, hoping you don’t come off as confused at his direct attention.

“Apparently you’re rather popular around here?”

It comes out as a question and he chuckles.

“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard,” he says with a wink.

“So what about a drink?” you ask, focusing on doing your job.

He orders and before he can say more you rush off to fix his drink. You drop it off with nothing more than a smile and move toward the next person who calls for your help.

As you’re making your next few drinks you notice Nat chatting with Bucky and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying.

You move back and forth behind the bar, trying to ignore the feel of Bucky’s eyes, but he finally catches your attention and waves you down.

“Another?” you ask.

“Sure doll, thanks.”

While you’re pouring his drink he tries to keep you engaged.

“So Nat told me you’re new to town?”

“Yeah, moved here at the end of last month.”

“Do you like bartending better here in the city?” he asks.

You look down at the bar and scold with a single name.

“Nat.”

Bucky leans in. “Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to help me out.”

You lean in too, elbows on the bar and your head tilted his way.

“You usually need help? From what I’ve heard you can have your pick of anyone.”

At the slight scrunch of your nose he can tell you’re not saying it with a positive tone.

“Not my style. I’m pickier and right now, I need all the help I can get because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.”

His eyes drop to your lips and when they turn up every so slightly he relaxes.

“What is your type?” you ask. “Maybe I can help you out too.”

He scans you slowly and the proceeds to describe you perfectly, the tension building in the inches between you with his every word.

You steel yourself and lift your chin. “Does that usually work?”

“It’s not a line. Meant every word doll face.”

“Do you use these endearments on all the girls? I bet they love it.”

“Nuh uh,” he answers adamantly.

You nod, looking completely unconvinced.

Nat reappears at your side. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but I need three long island iced teas at table four or they’re gonna have a hissy fit.”

You straighten yourself. “Oh sorry! Of course. I’m on it.”

You’re busy for the next forty-five minutes but Bucky never leaves his spot and every time you meet his eyes they are heavy with intention as they follow your every move. You can feel them, the heat singing every inch of your skin.

At least two women have approached him at the bar but they both walked away after a few minutes of mundane conversation and lack of interest on his part.

As much as you hate to admit it you can’t help but steal glances at him too, though you try to keep them quick and subtle.

He’s broad shouldered in the tight tee shirt he’s wearing, his biceps on full display under the stretch of the fabric and his dark hair is loose at his shoulders. His full lips are framed by a dark scruff that also covers his cheeks and is peppered with patches of gray.

Your fingers mindlessly caress the glass you’re holding before you catch yourself and look away.

You drop off another glass of whiskey with a smile and he nurses it, shooting you a cocky half smirk when he catches you staring at him. It’s like the intense silence is some sort of foreplay.

Feeling his gaze along your skin, drinking you in and driving you wild, you do your best to keep up with orders.

When things start to slow down and customers go home, you finally make your way back toward Bucky, drawn to him, despite your best efforts.

“Couldn’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t really…”

The words taper off at the sharp lift of his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Apology accepted,” he smirks. “So, do you have plans when you get off?”

You don’t answer, instead fiddling with his now empty glass. He lays his hand on the bar, his fingers just an inch form yours.

“Are you really gonna ignore my question doll?” he chuckles.

His fingers slide closer and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, gauging your reaction. You giggle at his second question and his eyes drop to your mouth as he licks his own lips.

You’re almost lost in the bubble but then the world outside comes roaring back into focus when you hear Nat yell “last call.”

“Work…I still have to work.”

His lips part on an exhale but he let’s you go.

You rush around the bar first, clearing glasses and debris before heading over to one of the tables where three guys sit in conversation.

Distracted, you lean over the table, trying not to interrupt them. But the blonde closest to you runs the back of his hand up your arm.

It makes you cringe.

“Hi there,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer coolly, shifting away from him.

One of the blonde’s friend gives you an apologetic look, scolding Rob before he hands you one of the empty glasses that’s far out of reach. You reach for it and as soon as your fingers wrap around it, Rob grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap.

You drop the glass to the floor and it shatters before you push against his chest, loudly yelling, “what the hell?”

Rob starts to speak but you’re suddenly lifted in the air and whirled around then planted gently on your feet behind Bucky’s broad back.

Bucky now has Rob’s tee shirt fisted in one hand as he gets in his face.

The bar goes silent and the next thing you hear is the low growl of Bucky’s order. “Don’t touch.”

Bucky slowly lowers Rob’s feet to the floor, keeping a careful eye on him. His eyes narrow a split second before Rob bellows, “motherfucker!”

The asshole rears back and punches Bucky clean in the jaw.

You gaps in horrified shock, but Bucky grins, his tongue peeking out to test his lip and you can’t help how your eyes linger there.

“You threw the first punch shithead,” Bucky says before winding back and punching Rob in the gut.

All the guys now rush toward their friend, muttering curses at him as they drag him to his feet and eye Bucky warily.

The owner of the bar, and your boss, Barry, comes over and gets in their faces. “Get out and don’t come back!”

They drag their belligerent friend out as quickly as they can, apologizing to you, or maybe Bucky, the whole way.

“What just happened?” you ask, your voice quiet.

Bucky steps close to you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek, light as a feather.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are filled with emotions. Worry, fury, fear, and tenderness.

“I think so. That was just…crazy.”

Nat wraps her arm around your shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s go get Bucky some ice, ok?”

You glance down at Bucky’s hand, puffy and red.

“Oh no,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours.

He smiles. “It’s fine. Been there, done that.”

You watch him go back and sit at the bar, most of the other customers now cleared out. When you come back out with the ice and ointment your gentle, “you okay?” pulls him from his musings.

“Yeah, no big deal. As long as you’re okay?”

You sit next to him, resting his hand on your thigh and carefully pressing the ice to his knuckles. He stares at his hand on your skin.

“I don’t know if okay is how I would describe how I’m feeling right now…that was…”

Your words trail off when you can’t find a suitable label for the last ten minutes.

“Sexy?” he suggests, deadpan.

Your jaw drops open in offense.

“What? NO!”

He breaks and his lips spread wide in a grin.

You deflate and bump his shoulder, not trying to hide your own smile.

“Seriously though,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to…why did you do that?”

He looks at you evenly, his voice soft. “Look I’m not some crazy guy who goes around lookin’ to beat people up doll face. But you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time that piece of shit has pulled a stunt like that, but hopefully next time, he’ll have some decency and sense before laying hands on a woman without an explicit invitation.”

“Well in that case…that’s pretty nice.”

He scoffs with a lopsided smile and his eyes drop to your lips; his hand still pressed to your thigh. His head tilts and he leans in slightly, watching your lips part. He curls his fingers around your thigh but winces at the pull on his knuckles.

You see it and pull back, looking down at his hand.

“Let me get you fixed up.”

Once you have him bandaged up he whispers, “thanks,” still staring at his hand held in yours.

“You ready to go, or do you need to close up first?”

His question is light.

“Go where?”

“Out with me. Ice cream? A walk? Anything you want.”

“It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere but home.”

“Or we could go to the twenty-four-hour deli on the corner and get ice cream sandwiches then I’ll take you to the roof of my building and we can watch the sunrise.”

Your light touch traces along the calluses on his fingertips.

“Are you usually this friendly to everyone who is new to the neighborhood?” you ask behind a sly smile.

“Not at all doll. Only for you. You’re special.”

Your jaw goes rigid and your eyes narrow. “You can stop whatever game you’re playing.”

You pull back, releasing his hand and starting to put the first aid kit back together.

“What just happened? I’m not playing games,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “But I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“It’s fine. I need to go help Nat close up.”

You stand and walk to the door, your head held high. He’s not going to fool you with his sweet words.

The next evening is slow so you spend most of it helping Nat stock the bar and clean. The hours pass by and nothing exciting happens letting your thoughts wander to Bucky. Then, as if on cue, the door opens, and you automatically look over to see who the latest customer is.

Bucky fills the doorway.

Your breath hitches and you can’t look away. He’s more dressed up tonight. A dark button down opened at the collar and dark jeans that are tight across his thick thighs.

You can’t help but think he’s here to meet someone for a date. The jealousy that surges through you is surprising and infuriating. That is, until he walks up to the bar and sits down. Right in front of you.

“Hey, doll.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

“What can I get you?” you start. “Or are you waiting for someone?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “What time’s your break?”

“Oh,” you breath out. “Um…I don’t really get a long one…”

You start to wipe down the bar aimlessly, remaining quiet while you wait. You can feel him watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.

He calls over Nat and asks, “can I get two of the special for tonight, please?”

He’s speaking to Nat but looking at you, daring you to disagree.

When you stay quiet, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, victory lighting up his eyes.

“If you want to take it to-go for later, that’s fine. But I thought it’d be nice to have dinner together and figured ya wouldn’t want to go out with me after I fucked up last night.”

“So dinner while I’m supposed to be working is a better option?” you shoot back.

He cringes, despite the lack of heat in your accusation then sighs defeatedly.

“I’m trying here. I want to get to know you better. I promise my intentions are good.”

You stare, getting lost in his beautiful eyes before you scan the rest of his face. He seems more vulnerable now and you want to believe him.

Nat comes back with two plates of steaming food and sets them down.

You give in and unwrap the silverware, digging into a bite of baked potato.

“Mmm,” you moan around the taste.

He freezes with his own bite halfway to his mouth, and mutters under his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You fall into easy conversation about what he does for work, how you like living in the city and everything in between.

After you explain why you moved, spilling the truth between bites, he replies with, “I’m glad you picked Brooklyn.”

His fingers slide over yours and the touch is full of heat. His eyes follow the movement and his jaw tightens. He threads his fingers through yours, holding your hand across the bar.

When he meets your eyes, his are hooded and dark. “How about that ice cream tonight with a roof top view doll?”

The ‘yes’ is on the tip of your tongue as your body leans over the bar, but then you remember that you want more than just a fling and even though he said his intentions are good you can’t help but wonder why a guy like him is still single. You’re not looking for a fling.

You untangle your fingers from his, pulling back.

“Thank you, Bucky. Really. But…”

He nods, not letting you finish before he reaches into his back pocket and sets down some cash to cover the dinners.

“See ya soon doll.”

The bar is closed on Mondays but Tuesday has you running beers up and down the bar for game night. Bucky’s back. Same time, same seat.

“You need a break doll? Something to eat?” Bucky asks before he takes a sip of beer.

He sets it down as he waits for your answer, studying you intently.

You grab a French fry from his plate and wave it around before bringing it to your lips. He grins wolfishly, catching your wrist in his hand and before you know what’s happening, he’s snagged the fry from between your fingers with his teeth. His tongue snakes out to the lick the salt from your fingertips, then he chews with a self-satisfied smile.

“I’ll let you have the rest,” he says, holding one up to your lips.

You tentatively lean forward, watching him warily in case he tries to pull it away, then chomp down.

“Just let me know when you want more,” he croons.

You continue to work, constantly aware of Bucky and the way he never takes his eyes off you. You check on him regularly, engaging in some deep conversation even with the little time you have.

As your shift nears its end he calls you over.

“Ice cream and rooftop tonight?” he asks, setting money down on the bar to pay for his food and drinks.

“I can’t tonight.”

He smiles. “No worries doll face. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next night comes quickly, your tired feet aching from marching back and forth between the bar and the pool tables since it’s half price games tonight.

It’s getting late, and despite your best efforts, you can’t help but wonder where Bucky is. Maybe the last time you turned him down was the final straw. You feel a deep twinge of disappointment at the idea.

The door opens, and you look over, your eyes filled with hope, but it’s just some random couple.

You’re stomach grumbles and you realize you’ve had dinner with Bucky the last few nights and now that it’s late and he hasn’t shown you haven’t eaten.

Checking that everyone has full glasses you wipe your hands and head for the kitchen, hoping to snag something to eat.

The chef, Suzanne, greets you warmly. You ask her for a bowl of the soup and she hums in agreement, yelling out for Charlie.

A guy you’ve never seen before pops around the corner.

“Hey, I’m Charlie, the sometimes kitchen help,” he explains holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Charlie.”

You give him your name and tell him you’re the new bartender.

His face changes instantly, eyes going wide and his brows shooting up to his hairline. He pulls his hand back quickly.

He’s still smiling but he seems guarded all of a sudden.

“You forgot to mention the most important part…Bucky’s girl.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “I’m not Bucky’s girl! We’re just friends. He just stops by for dinner and a drink!”

You know it’s more than that. Charlie nods like he knows it’s more than that.

“Sure, whatever you say. But no offense, I’m gonna take his word for it. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. It has the whole neighborhood talkin’.”

With that he disappears, only reappearing a few moments later with your soup, then he runs off again.

You inhale the soup, not wanting to leave Nat alone and rush back to the bar to check the drink orders.

Nat slides up next to you. “Those drinks for table six?”

You don’t answer her, instead filling her in on what happened in the kitchen.

“Charlie said I’m ‘Bucky’s girl.’ I’m not his girl. What does that even mean?”

“Aw that’s sweet! He’s never said anything like that before and I would know. Been living here my whole life.”

“No it’s not!”

“I think it’s sorta romantic,” she says wistfully. “He’s all in, claiming you far and wide when you haven’t even realized what’s right in front of your face!”

She punctuates the last words of her sentence as she stares you down.

“What’s right in front of my face?” you ask, unwilling to concede that it might be the tiniest bit sweet…in a cave man sort of way.

“He’s here,” Nat whispers, but it’s more of squeal.

You turn toward the door, your whole face lighting up even though you’re still mad at the claim he made. The door is closed, Bucky no where in sight.

Nat’s finger is suddenly in your face. “That! You want to see him. You like him coming here to see you too. Shit, when was the last time someone made this much of an effort for a date!”

She throws her hands up! “Just go out with the man!”

“You mean have sex with him?” you bite out, not forgetting about her earlier warnings.

“Either or, maybe both! What could it hurt?”

“Me!” you say defensively.

Nat’s expression softens. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong idea about him…” she fumbles. “What I really mean is I think maybe we all had the wrong idea about him.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “Bucky is man. A hot as fuck man,” she teases. “And he does have a reputation…but only because everyone wishes they could get a piece of him. I really don’t remember the last girl he went out with. So either he’s really quiet about it, but if you haven’t noticed in this neighborhood everyone is up everyone else’s ass, or he hasn’t really dated.”

Nat eyes you carefully, curiously.

“Oh shit,” you mumble, laying your face in your hands. “I do want to go out with him, but I’m scared…have you seen him?”

Nat grins. “Oh yes. I have and…”

“He’s gorgeous. Like drop dead gorgeous,” you finish for her.

“Exactly,” she agrees happily, a dreamy look on her face.

You swat at her shoulder, getting her attention and gesturing to yourself.

“What? You look amazing!” she says. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen you at work before.”

“You don’t think is just a thing because I’m the new girl in the neighborhood?”

“Do people do things like that where you’re from?” she asks. “And no!” she finishes, shaking her head.

Just as her words sink in your heart sinks with them.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I blew it, he’s not here tonight.”

“Yes he is.”

The door opens and when you look over, it’s him.

Finally!

The air charges across the space between you and you know something has changed and when his eyes meet yours it’s almost as if he knows it too. He nods toward the door, silently asking if you’re ready for that date.

“Hey Nat, you think if I ask Barry to let me off early…”

“I swear if he says no I’ll kick him in the balls myself,” Nat screeches.

You rush back to the office and find Barry sitting behind his desk. Your question rushes out and he holds up a hand to stop you before you even finish.

“Go,” is all he says, but the smile he gives you reaches his eyes.

You cross the room to Bucky, his eyes wandering over you with possessive heat and unguarded want.

When you’re standing right in front of him, your toes touching, he asks, “you ready?”

Your lips lift ever so slightly and when his large hand cups your cheek your eyelashes flutter closed. His motions are slow, teasingly so, but he’s giving you time to stop him. He bends down, letting his intentions be quite clear.

He kisses the corner of your mouth then brushes his lips over yours, so lightly, you can feel his breath. You sigh into him and his hands slide over your curves and down to your waist, his grip tightening.

Nat let’s out a cheer, effectively interrupting the moment but you can’t help but smile at her excitement.

Bucky doesn’t let go of you, his hand sliding into yours as he pulls you out the door and onto the street.

“Hey,” he says soothingly.

“Hi,” you say, tucking your chin.

His fingers press under and he lifts your eyes. “You good?”

He waits patiently for you to formulate a reply.

“I just…I’m not sure…what you expect.”

“Anything, doll. I want to know you, spend time with you.”

Dropping his voice lower and bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, he whispers, “kiss you again…for real this time.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice heavy with intention as he takes you in his arms again and drags you into his chest.

Your lips meet, tender and soft at first but as your fingers dance up his arms and grip his biceps, he growls and takes it deeper.

You moan into his mouth, working your hands higher into the hair that brushes his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels you give his hair a little tug.

He pulls back and you chase him for one last kiss which he happily obliges in.

“I promised you ice cream and a roof top sunrise,” he murmurs. “And I keep my promises doll.”

@book-dragon-13 @sebstanwhore @late-to-the-party-81 @goldylions @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @hallecarey1 @blackwidownat2814 @flordeamatista @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #beefy!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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ssparksflyy · 2 months

Note

percy x zeus!gf hcs pls!!! and could i request it to be more on the funny side and how percy and zeus have beef but also get along cuz of gf

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs ! ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of zeus!reader warning(s): little bit of swearing a/n: hi! ty for requesting <3 im literally not funny but i hope u enjoy thissss! also theres a lotta taylor in this one 🤭

BIG REPUTATION BIG REPUTATION OHHH YOU AND ME WE GOT BIG REPUTATIONS AHHH

it doesnt matter if ur a social butterfly or antisocial, everybody knew you and percy before you even started dating

so best believe when u actually got together, everybody ( literally ) cheered

but omg your flirting era had to be on of the most painful things to watch

seriously doesnt matter if u got game or not, percy is literally oblivious and a LOSERRRRR

im so sorry but somebody had to say it

bro had THE BIGGEST crush on you and whenever he'd try to like compliment you itd usually sound a little weird

tell me why he'd probably say something like

"i like your outfit today! that shirt for sure looks better with those jeans than it did with the shorts you wore 2 weeks ago :)"

lil creep

cue silena crying in the corner bcs she made a bet with beckendorf and it is NOT looking good for her right now

WE NEVER GO OUT OF STYLE.

u guys are iconic

like well-known power couple

I'D be scared to train with you guys cause like wdym i gotta go against the best swordsmen at camp and the daughter of the king of the gods?? no thank you, i choose life ♡

when people are asked to think of a couple, they immediately think of you guys

everybody loves you guys fr

if you ever broke up ( which you wont, percy would probs just say "no" ) itd probably leave everybody super torn

BROOOO ITD BE LIKE IN GILMORE GIRLS WHEN LORELAI AND LUKE BROKE UP AND THE WHOLE TOWN LIKE TOOK SIDES

if you havent watched gilmore girls, that basically sums the situation up. lorelai is literally like the town's sweetheart and luke is the owner of the most popular diner in their small town ♡ very cutesy

so sorry for the spoiler

SALLY LOVESSS YOU

she's literally so sweet and treats you as if you were her own child

she'd definitely bake cookies when you first meet and if you liked them, you best believe you are being sent back to camp with a baggie full of cookies

yk what percy time

your literally his queen

( sorry i say literally a lot )

he treats you like royaltyyyyy

always opening doors for you, walks you everywhere, follows the sidewalk rule, everything ♡

when its raining, he picks you up bridal style and takes you wherever you need to go, so you dont get your shoes wet ♡♡

yall literally live in the rain tho

neither of you leave your cabin with an umbrella, the rain just gives you life

AND I DONT KNOW WHY BUT WITH YOU ID DANCE IN A STORM IN MY BEST DRESS FEARLESS

one time, you went out for a fancy dinner, got dressed up all nice very fancy very fancy

BUT you BOTH forgot to check the weather

and it ended up POURING rain by the time you got out of the restaurant

and i kid you not

percy just grabs you by the hand, leads you out into the rain, and begins to dance with you.

no coverage, no music, no fucks given. just him and his girl.

he treasures that moment forever and ever

all the gods looked down at you from olympus and melted

neither of you care if you're disrespecting your fathers, you spend almost every night together ♡

percy is absolutely a big cuddler

literally just adores the feeling of you close to him

oh lord save him his drug is his baby he'll be using for the rest of his life

falling asleep together is so easy, you just melt into each other's touch

waking up is what's harder

neither of you want to leave the bed, and neither of you want the other person to leave the bed either.

percy's the typa guy to just have a sweet little conversation with you before he gets up for the day

you always get a good morning ( and a good night! ), then percy asks you what's on your schedule for the day ( as if he hasn't memorized it by now ), and what you wanted for breakfast that morning

he simply cannot get up without it

he's also the typa guy to just whisper sweet nothings into your ear if he wakes up before you ♡

he just goes on a little ramble about how pretty you look when your sleeping, even though you are sleeping while he's 'talking' to you

sorry where was i?

ZEUS.

the bastrard HATES percy and percy HATES the bastard

theyve literally been beefing since he was 12 years old

so best believe when zeus found out his daughter was dating this mf son of poseidon, oo he was MAAAADDDDD

poseidon is literally so chill with you. like he just cares that percy is happy

zeus holds back everything in him to not kill percy on the spot every time you make out

he doesn't do it because he knows you'd probably walk to the underworld to get him back and hades would go feral if he got another orpheus & eurydice

percy gives zero fucks. he flips off the sky every time he walks outside

percy is so sweet and caring and kind and shows ur father such respect like hes literally an angel 😇😇

i wouldn't say that he starts like actually respecting him, but he tries not to offend him as often as usual, just for you ♡

in the scenario that you'd have to make a trip to olympus, percy and zeus put on their big boy pants and try to tolerate each other

hera dont like you or percy bro she's literally just there

its ok tho, you both despise her for kidnapping percy and wiping his memory ♡♡♡

JASON AND THALIA HOWEVER

thalia would definitely be the dramatic dad that zeus cant be (in person, at least)

whenever she and the hunters stay at camp she ( jokingly ) tells percy

"jackson, i want her home by NINE PEE EM. no later. i expect you won't be drinking, and you will be TAKING CARE OF HER. in the instance that i hear you DONT, i think you'll be taking a second trip across the river styx, you hear me?"

in like an old man voice and everything

percy plays along with it and salutes her going "yes ma'am!"

jason thinks yall are so cute together

since you were together before the whole switcheroo thingy, jason knew you first, and you were instantly best buddies

you told him about percy, and once he met him, he was happy to find out he was exactly like you described him

jason and thalia are ur #1 supporters ♡

in summary, alexa play that should be me

a/n pt.2: hihi! hope you enjoyed thatttt <3 i had sm fun writing these teehee, have a good day/night!

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

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avatar-anna · 8 months

Text

Rumors

so...i've had this concept rattling around in my brain, but i had no idea how to write it, so i used pictures instead. i definitely want to do more, but tumnlr only allows 10 pictures a post, so here's to hoping i remember to come back to this in the future!

yourinstagram

liked by taylorswift and 67,530 others

yourinstagram: had a very cool dude over today to make even cooler music

yoursistersinstagram: you let someone in the bat cave?!

y/nfan5: possible collab on the new album?

yourinstagram: more like i was helping someone with theirs ;))

harrystyles: Thank you for having me. X.

harryfan3: HARRY???

harryfan7: omgomgomgomgomg

y/nfan1: pls god let us have a harry and y/n collab on his next album i NEED it

harrystyles

liked by gemmastyles, yourinstagram and 2,233,781 others

harrystyles: HS3. Coming soon.

harryfan8: NEW ALBUM ALERT

harryfan11: HARRY YOU CANT JUST DROP SOMETHING LIKE THAT WITHOUT A RELEASE DATE

harryfan4: this has to be what he was working on with y/n right?

y/nfan3: i need them both on a song together

yourinstagram: had fun late night talking with you xx

y/nfan9: i'm sorry wHAT

harryfan5: is this flirting this sounds like flirting

harryfan13: honestly...here for it

y/nupdates

liked by harryfan7 and 4,320 others

y/nupdates: Y/n in a video for Vogue recently!

"A lot of people ask me how Harry Styles ended up recording at my house when we'd virtually never crossed paths before. It was actually Taylor (Swift) who kind of set the whole thing up. They spoke at the Grammys last year and she apparently gave him my number so we could work together...He called and asked if I was available to help with his album at all. At the time I was on the road, then working on stuff for the band, and it just kind of went back and forth for a few months while we tried to line up our schedules. Then I was done touring, but I was kind of in a weird state in life where I didn't want to leave the house or hang out with anyone. And I remember making up excuses because I wasn't really up to making myself presentable to a whole team of people I'd never met before and having our first meeting be this huge thing. I'd basically built it all up in my head about how our ideas would clash and we wouldn't get along and I just kept telling him maybe some other time. Long story short, Harry showed up at my place a week later by himself with just a guitar, a notebook, and my favorite takeout order. We spent the whole day together working on a bunch of different stuff from themes to genres of music to sampling and mixing. And writing. Lots and lots of writing. And now he's a dear friend. He's so sweet and so talented. I wish him all the best with the new album."

y/nfan8: ok i'm glad it worked out and everything but imagine a virtual stranger showing up to your HOUSE?? like she said no and he basically forced her to write his album for her

y/nfan4: that's so real of her tbh to not want to leave her house

y/nfan2: y/n is notoriously introverted it makes sense

harryfan13: girl...

y/nfan7: i don't think it was that serious. and if she really didn't want him there she could've said no

harryfan13: and y/n literally called him a friend?? stop trying to start shit that doesn't exist

y/nfan7: of COURSE mother brought them together

harryfan17: i can't believe that's what harry and taylor were talking about in the video!

harryfan2: chill harry doesn't need to be in a relationship with every woman he's associated with

harryfan4: wait but wasn't y/n at that grammys too?

harryfan9: it was still covid it's possible their paths didn't cross

y/nfan19: wait what if he was too shy to go up to her??😭

harryfan4: i love that they're writing besties now but i think they'd be so cute together 🥹

hsupdates

liked by harryfan4 and 10,343 others

hsupdates: Harry about Y/n L/n for Rolling Stone:

"I've always admired (Y/n's) work. She and her band are incredibly talented, and are just so passionate about creating music. I wanted that same energy for my third album, the freedom to make whatever I want without any reservations, and I knew Y/n was the perfect addition to the team. It took some convincing, but once we kind of got started, we couldn't stop. As we've gotten to know each other these past few months, I not only respect her as a musician, but for the person she is as well. Her soul is one of a kind, and I feel like my album would be so different without her on it. So now not only do I have an album that I'm proud of and love, but I got an extraordinary friend out of it too."

harryfan9: so this is what people mean when they say platonic soulmates

y/nfan12: all we've gotten is crumbs and i'm already in love with their friendship. and the album of course

y/nfan2: i'm so interested to hear this album now. if y/n is on it it has to be good

harryfan3: "her soul is one of a kind?" if that's harry as a friend i don't think i can handle boyfriendrry😭

y/nfan7: i'm holding out hope for them honestly🤞🏼🤞🏼

liked by harrystyles and 23,724 others

yourinstagram

yourinstagram: you've fallen from the sky down to me, i see it in your face, i'm relief, i'm your summer girl

y/nfan17: shut up are those song lyrics??

yourbandinstagram: the tears behind your dark sunglasses, the fears inside your heart as deep as gashes🎶🎶

y/nfan17: HOLY SHIT those ARE lyrics!

y/nfan6: haven't even heard the song and i know the girls have done it again

harryfan4: could it...could it be about harry?

y/nfan8: you're grasping at straws

harryfan12: are they? they've been spotted together all over LA

harrystyles: ☀️☀️

y/nfan8: as friends. friends can hang out can't they?

harryfan3: new music from harry AND y/n? we're about to be fed y'all

harryfan10: THEY REALLY ARE BESTIES

y/nfan2: i bet they collaborated on this song together

Interviewer (I): What's one memory or experience you can share from making this album? Any trips to Japan or Jamaica?

Harry (H): We stayed in Los Angeles mostly for this one. But erm...in terms of a specific memory...I would say that while I was working with Y/n, one of the tracks was actually inspired by her cat.

I: Really?

H: Yeah. Whenever it did something to annoy Y/n, which was quite often, she'd call her a little freak. The song's obviously not about the cat, but the phrase was in my head and yeah. Things just kind of...snowballed from there.

I: The sound that Y/n's band has is more rock centric, a similar sound to your first album. Is that what we can expect for your third studio album?

I: You've become quite close to Y/n L/n it seems like.

H: Not necessarily. Y/n and I collaborated, but she also let me take the reins in terms of sound. She had opinions of course and we would bounce ideas off of each other...but she really just followed my lead and supported the vision I had. She is playing a majority of the instruments on the album, though.

H: It's hard not to.

I: How so?

I: It sounds like you could go on for quite some time about her.

H: She's just cool, you know? I was kind of intimidated when we met for the first time. She's quiet, but you never forget that she's in the room, you just want to go over and talk to her. Of course once you meet her she's incredibly kind and not at all intimidating, but still like chill and stuff. The first time we met we sat for an hour just talking about music we enjoyed and live shows we wanted to attend and things we learned while in lockdown. She's just effortlessly cool. An old soul, I guess. And somehow she translates that into her music. Her sisters, too. They're all just first-rate musicians.

H: Sorry. I kind of gushed for a minute there.

H: And the band. They're just so talented, you know?

harrystyles

liked by jeffazoff and 4,211,323 others

harrystyles: From start to finish, making this album has been such an incredible journey. It was so fun to try new things sonically while also making something that I'm one hundred percent proud of. I've never felt more myself while making music than I did while creating this album for all of you, and I have so many people to thank for that. Hopefully you know who you are. I love, love, love you.

harryfan16: 😭😭😭😭😭

harris_reed: little angel👼

harryfan3: WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU

yourinstagram: congratulations h. you deserve it.💐💐💐

harrystyles: I couldn't have done it without you💐

yourinstagram

liked by yourbandinstagram and 53,089 others

yourinstagram: for one night and one night only...but in all seriousness shout out to my friend and his incredible album. happy to have been a part of the magic :)))

harryfan13: HAPPY HARRY DAY!!!

harryfan4: is she in ny??

y/nfan7: yes! she was spotted with harry before the show today

harryfan9: they're literally so cute i love their friendship

harrystyles: You made the magic happen. Thank you for everything. X.

harryfan3: they're so...

y/nfan2: i genuinely think they like fucking with us bc i legitimately can't tell if they're dating or not

y/nfan7: at this point i don't even care i love whatever they're doing they both just seem so happy to be besties/lovers/collaborators and i love that for them

harryfan5: ^^

y/nupdates

liked by harryfan10 and 3,742 others

y/nupdates: Y/n performing Keep Driving onstage with Harry in NYC tonight at ONO!

y/nupdates: When he introduced her, he said: "Tonight is special in a lot of ways. I'm sharing my album with you for the first time, my family's here, my friends are here, and...a very good friend of mine is here to play a song with me tonight. This album wouldn't have been possible without her, so please give her as much love as you've given me. Y/n L/n, everybody!"

harryfan4: stop they're so close it hurts😭

y/nfan7: i was there they were staring at each other and smiling the whole time!

harryfan12: that's the one where he says choke her with a sea view!?

y/nfan7: YES AND I SWEAR HIS SMILE GOT BIGGER WHEN HE SANG THAT PART AND LOOKED AT HER LIKE HE FULLY HAD TO TURN AROUND TO LOOK AT HER BC SHE WAS PLAYING THE DRUMS

harryfan3: i'm choosing to believe they're in love idc what anyone else says

hs/ynupdates

hs/ynupdates: Harry, Y/n, and her sisters in New York after ONO tonight! Apparently Harry and Y/n were standing and walking very close to each other. Like arms wrapped around each other close.

harryfan2: that could literally mean anything tho. they're good friends why wouldn't they walk next to each other?

y/nfan14: i feel like they don't know if they're dating or not at this point😅

y/nfan8: her sisters are so unserious i love it

y/nfan5: i love that they all showed up for harry🥹

yourbandinstagram

liked by taylorswift, harrystyles and 710,225 others

yourbandinstagram: Thanks for having us, London!

y/nfan1: i can't believe i got to see harry and y/n perform in ONE NIGHT

harryfan3: sending my love and my tears to everyone who got to experience this historic night

harrystyles: Thank you for taking the time to share the stage with me. X.

yourbandfan2: how do y'all always look so good 😭

I: So you opened for Harry Styles a few weeks ago and performed a song with him in New York.

Y/n: My sisters and I did, yeah.

I: How did that come about? Did your team call his team? Or was it more casual than that?

Y/n: Oh, definitely more casual. I think we were just hanging out together one morning and he kind of just suggested it. No bells and whistles or anything like that.

I: So can we expect (Your band) to join Harry on his upcoming tour, then?

Y/n: I don't think so. We're working on putting out a record of our own at the moment, but we do want to get back out on the road soon, but I will definitely be attending more of his shows in the future.

I: And what can we expect from this upcoming record? Did Harry help you the way you helped him out?

Y/n: I've sent him a couple things to listen to, and I value his opinion a lot, both as a friend and as an artist. He also showed me a couple records recently which kind of influenced how I approached some of the songs sonically. He's got a huge vinyl collection at his house. I'm honestly kind of jealous.

I: There's been some rumors running around that you and Harry are in a romantic relationship. Would you like to put any of those rumors to rest?

Y/n: I could see where people might think that. Harry's very affectionate by nature, and over the last couple of months we've become very close. He's not just someone I admire in the music industry, but as a person in general. I feel incredibly lucky to call him a friend. And a close one, at that.

I: So just a friend then?

Y/n: Yeah. Yeah, just a friend.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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suguru-getos · 5 months

Text

Fluffcember with Satoru Gojo

Prompt: Reassurances

Summary: You are in the early phases of your relationship with Satoru where you haven't even kissed each other yet. Taking things comfortingly and achingly slow. Unfortunately for you, you’re reminded of his ‘Uncommitted Fuckboy’ & he reassures you through it. Warnings: None really, just extreme fluff and comfort and Satoru being a care-giver and a Daddy pro max!

Your brother came back from a gathering of sorts, it was all related to Jujutsu High and being a third-year there, he was privy to a lot of information you weren’t. Though now that you’re dating his Sensei without actually telling him, your questions & curiosities have increased a tenfold. “So, how was your day?”

Your brother came in, opened the fridge like a racoon in a dumpster & took out a Coke zero, clearly tired & a tad annoyed. “S’ good.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Something very funny happened today.”

You irked a brow, mostly all the funny things are related to your now boyfriend. "What happened?" You asked, curiosity bubbling behind your eyes.

"There's this sorcerer- her name's Mei Mei, she flirts with Sensei so hard it's hilarious!" He cackled, manspreading on the dining table seat after microwaving the sandwich and sighed. "She was all like- 'of course Satoru kun, you can help me can't you?' because she was assigned a mission which was seemingly hard." You felt a pang of anxiety touch your chest at that, nodding with a faked smile. Can't show your brother you're affected by this after all.

"H-heh, funny… what did he say?" You inquired, and your brother shrugged. "Said he would help." You bite your lip, of course- Satoru is not someone to refuse his aid to anyone. Even you knew that about him… but clearly, did he not pick up the signals? "Shyeah- of course." You waved your hand dismissively. "I think they have done it definitely." Your brother snickers. "I mean- Sensei is so popular I'm sure all the female sorcerers would've wanted a piece of him." He groans, "So annoying to me though."

You smiled, not able to maintain this conversation without it affecting your core. Satoru was gorgeous, he could pick a finger at anything and would get that for himself. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Which is why… it's concerning as to why he is dating someone like you. Someone so normal, someone miles away from the Jujutsu world. Someone who had no place in his world. He was utterly sweet to you as well. So far you haven't had any arguments with him either. A defeated sigh escaped your parted lips as the thoughts multiplied and cluttered your mind. You went to your room to sulk. As if being a Corporate baddie wasn't enough. Now you also need to take account of what's happening in Jujutsu world with your boyfriend. Sickening…

As if to balm your insecurity with reassurance, Satoru's name flashed on your phone screen in a phone call. "Hello.." You answered the phone hesitantly.

"Oh hello Little One! How are ya? Just checkin' up on you. Hope you don't mind that mm?" "No, not at all, I've just come home from work. How are you?" You tried to sound as normal as you can, the lower octave of your voice not gone unnoticed despite you stiffening yourself up to sound as normal as you can. "Something the matter Princess?" The nickname slipped out of his lips so easily, right now you wonder if it's so easy because its meaningless. "Nah, nothing's the matter. My brother just came home you know? So I was just talking to him about er- school and stuff." You answered half-truth. Satoru's head tilted to the side, tongue clicking. "Something that pissed you off?" He asked softly, and you nodded your head yes, but your voice lied. "Nah, s' al good. Don't worry. Maybe I'm just really tired you know?" "Mhm, gotcha~ maybe, you are tired… you know what can help? A sugar rush." Satoru snickered over the phone and you sighed. There is no way you can escape this man's gaze if you were to meet him right now. "Nah, really tired. Headachey too…" You excuse yourself, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut at the silence on the other side. "Alright, take rest." Satoru sounded genial and soft, and with that you heard the beep of the call disconnecting.

You were starting to get angry at yourself, why does it even matter. You two haven't even been together for a month yet. This is truly pathetic…

You shoved all the thoughts off your head, journalling them off. Whatever… who cares. Yeah, whatever…

The next few days you tried your best to ignore Satoru, picking up his calls and answering in one-word sentences, declining his proposal to meet for dates or to just catch-up. Until you finally saw him one day at your home. You gasped, blinking when you opened the door and found him manspreading on the couch as if he owned the place.

"Sah- Satoru what`" "He's just here to be a nuisance." Your brother's voice chimed in from his room. "He needs something from me." You glanced at Satoru, who quickly removed his blindfold and made sure his eyes stared right into you. "Well, not my fault you can't search for the scroll I handed to you brats." He shrugged, of course an excuse… he wanted to come and see you. "Hello, Y/N san!" He chirped excitedly, and you waved him a Hello right back; gulping. "How have you been?" Satoru asked again, you nodded with a half-smile. "I'm good, Gojo San, are you good, too?" "No, I'm not… and you know why." His tone was soft, tender, as if he didn't want the pressure of his words to get to you.

"I- I see…" You looked down at your feet, looking back up at him. "You said you'll work late today." He almost whispered, shit- you completely forgot about that excuse you made for him,

"Oh yeah- ahem, well yeah… I will freshen up and login again." You grinned, trying to save your sorry ass.

"No" Satoru simply denied your statement.

"You are going to freshen up, and then utter why you're behaving this way." He didn't sound easy this time, you were hearing him speak to you sternly and seriously for the first time ever. You can't blame him though, he's worried… and it only warms your heart more that he is worried.

Before you could open your mouth, your brother came back to the drawing room. Stomping and giving him the damned scroll. Ugh- timing!

"Jaa- see you two!" He grinned, head-patting your brother and looking into your eyes.

Before you could say anything further, you found yourself back in your room. Answering his call…

"Are you getting out of the house or should I carry you out myself in front of your brother?" Satoru almost sung, and you knew there was a tad bit of a truth laced to that threat.

"I'm getting out." You rolled your eyes.

"Aw, that's a good girl."

The moment you were outside, Satoru teleported beside you, hand intertwining with yours and helping you walk in fucking air. You blinked, not registering how this is happening. It was like invisible stairs that take you to the breath-taking sky. Stars have just started to pop up as the night blanket wraps the city of Tokyo.

"What's bothering my baddie?" Satoru hums, and before you could answer, he interrupted again. "Don't say nothing else I'll start being really paranoid and restless, that's no good is it?" He coos, leaning in to make you feel more comfortable.

You finally decided to speak up, pouting and telling him everything about Mei Mei and what your brother told you. Then telling him how that made you feel truly.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes and cupping your face preciously. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden stance of affection but not leaning away. You wanted this… you wanted him to touch you, to soothe your worries away. "I can't believe my silly little girl would be so stressed about something like this It's nothing. Even if Mei Mei flirted, I would never return her affections or anyone else's." He smiled, "You know why? Cause I really want no one else but you Little One. I would never lose this." His eyes observed you once more, hands squeezing your face tenderly. "For something meaningless… I would never do anything to risk this, never. I promise you."

His words echoed in your ears and you couldn't help but nod a little with a smile. "Sorry- I just, you know it's not been a lot of time to us and-"

"So what!" Satoru giggles, "Time is a construct, and definitely not a measuring parameter when you're dating someone like me. Or if I am dating someone as amazing and kind and yet, fierce and firm as you." He winked.

"I promise you sweet Princess, I would never, ever… let anyone near me." His sincerity touches your heart, and you leaned in, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

"Aw! I get a hug! Good sign!" Satoru beams, kissing the crown of your head and rubbing your arms comfortingly.

"Let me show you now the skyline looks, neh?"

402 notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 1 year

Text

bad at flirting - fushiguro megumi

word count: 6.2k warnings: swearing + second hand embarrassment summary: megumi doesn't know he's bad at flirting, but his friends are happy to help him! ___

Megumi is totally, absolutely, downright terrible at flirting. He can’t lay down a vibe to save his life. Not once has he had the intention of flirting and actually made the person he’s flirting with realize that he’s flirting with them. It might not be often that he’s attempted to get a girl’s phone number, but it’s never worked.

And to make matters worse, he has no clue.

His friends don’t realize just how badly he needs their help until she comes around- and even then, it’s two months of her attending Jujutsu Tech that they realize the poor boy’s been trying to flirt with her.

It’s Yuuji that spots the odd interaction first.

Megumi had been walking with her, clearly listening to whatever she was talking about that Yuuji couldn’t hear from where he was hanging out on the front steps of the main building. But he was close enough that when Megumi noticed him, Yuuji gave him a wave and a grin.

The ravenette gives a short wave back- if you could call raising a hand for two seconds before begrudgingly shoving it back into his pocket a wave- before turning towards her again.

He says something Yuuji can’t quite hear, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and she replies with a nod and a smile, before turning and walking off on her own.

When Megumi makes his way to Yuuji, the first thing he notices is his rosy complexion.

Yuuji doesn’t think he’s ever seen Megumi blush. The sight makes him snort before laughing.

“What was that all about?” He asks, half teasing as he stands up.

“What do you mean?” Megumi replies, almost dumbly.

“You’re blushing!” Yuuji cackles loudly. “She must've said something”

“Not really,” Megumi shrugs. “Just happens when I flirt” He adds in a mumble.

Yuuji’s entire world shatters around him. His laughter ceases, his jaw drops, and he’s staring blankly at his friend as if he’s never seen him before.

Megumi? Flirting? Blushing? (y/n)? Megumi’s flirting with (y/n)? On purpose?

His brain computes it all at once in a fast, sloppy mess of thoughts. But when it dawns on him, his face splits with a wide beam

“Oh my god you like (y/n)!?” He’s practically screeching with joy.

Megumi tries to scowl, but his pink face betrays him, and it only makes him look more adorable.

“I had no idea!” Yuuji’s bouncing on his feet now, “How long have you liked her? How long have you been flirting with her? What’d you say anyways? Does she flirt back? You got good moves?”

“I guess,” Megumi shrugs, his hands awkwardly fumbling together.

He’s never really had a crush on anyone before, not like this anyways. And he’s definitely never had anyone to talk about a crush with before, so he was fairly nervous talking about it now.

“Liked her for a while,” He mumbles, looking anywhere but Yuuji’s expectant, excited face. “Probably since she got here. So… I guess I’ve been flirting with her the whole time”

“That’s adorable,” Yuuji gushes. “You guys do spend a lot of time together. Have you gone on any dates?”

“Yeah, I train with her all the time,” Megumi replies, all too surely. “And we study, too”

Yuuji furrows his brows.

Oh, no.

“Training and studying?” He repeats, confused.

Megumi nods his head.

No Megumi, no.

“Those aren’t dates,” Yuuji tells him. “Dates are movies. Or ice cream. Or a picnic, or… well, anything other than training and studying. Those are just chores you’re doing together”

“But it’s just the two of us,” Megumi explains. “And I’m flirting with her”

“Okay…” Yuuji still sounds unsure. “Well, how much are you flirting? Give me a line”

“A line?”

“Yeah, like, tell me something you say to her when you’re flirting”

“Okay… uh…” Megumi thinks for a second, before smiling to himself and nodding with certainty that he’d remembered a good one. “She started training with daggers, and I told her she was smart because she’s best with close combat fighting”

He’s grinning, the poor guy is so proud, and Yuuji can’t help but wince.

“So you… you told her she was smart?” He asked, just to be sure he’d heard him right, and Megumi nodded.

Yuuji sighs, and shakes his head.

“No… no Megumi that’s not flirting,” He huffs. “I mean, it’s a compliment, but, like, anyone can tell her a compliment- hell, she probably already knew that dude”

Megumi’s brows draw together, confused at the feedback. It was his understanding that complimenting her fighting style was flirty- it wasn’t just feedback or critique, it was personal, and therefore intimate.

“So… so she probably didn’t pick up on it?” He asks. Yuuji nods.

“She for sure didn’t pick up on it dude,” Yuuji tells him. “But that’s alright, we’ll figure out some other ways of flirting and see what works best for you!” He tells him eagerly.

“Uh… okay… are you sure?” Megumi’s fingers are tangling together again.

“Of course!” Yuuji claps a hand on his shoulder and shakes him in a friendly manner. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure you landed the girl of your dreams!?”

Megumi’s blushing again. ___

“It’s simple,” Yuuji’s voice rang in Megumi’s head as he tried to work up the courage to approach (y/n). “Just offer to carry her things, and walk with her after class”

He glanced to where (y/n) was packing her bag up at her desk. Yuuji and Nobara had just walked out of the room- not without giving him a thumbs up for encouragement- and it was just the two of them left.

How hard could this be, anyways? He thought to himself, finally striding over to her desk.

“Hey, (y/n)” He greeted, albeit a bit awkward, but it was a start.

“Hey,” She smiled up at him as she zipped up her backpack. “Weird lesson, right? I’m not convinced Gojo’s taken a single class on how to teach” She chuckles to herself.

“He hasn’t” Megumi answers, recalling a memory of the man tossing a textbook in the trash after Principal Yaga had told him to study up on to make him a more qualified teacher.

“Figures” (y/n) shakes her head, but she’s still smiling, so she must not be too annoyed with their teacher’s weird antics.

“Uh, so…” Megumi starts to work up to his offer, but she looks up at him then, and he has to take a deep breath before continuing. “Can I… can I carry that for you?”

He points to her backpack, sitting on top of her desk where she’d left it to give him her attention, and she follows his gesture as though she weren’t sure what he was referring to.

“My bag?” She questions. “Are you off to the field, too?”

No, I’m supposed to meet up with Maki and Yuuta at the library, Megumi thinks, and he’s not a liar, so he doesn’t lie when he answers.

“No”

(y/n) giggles to herself, before raising a brow at him.

“So you’re going to walk all the way out to the field and then leave?”

His face feels hot. His fingers feel twitchy. Yuuji didn’t tell him what he was supposed to do now, and he felt like an idiot.

“Yes”

Good. That was a good answer.

(y/n’s) still laughing, but it doesn’t sound malicious like he would have expected, seeing as he’s standing before her making a fool of himself. It’s sweet. It’s cute.

His face still feels hot.

“Alright,” She shrugs a shoulder, and hands him her bag. “You on some step-tracking kick?”

Victoriously, Megumi shrugs his arm through one of the straps, sliding it onto his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, something like that” He mumbles, because he’s a terrible liar. As they leave the classroom together, (y/n’s) still trying to suppress her laughter.

She hadn’t quite gotten a full grasp of who Fushiguro Megumi was. He could be quite odd most days, never acting one certain way. Some days he was mysterious and quiet, some days he was dorky, and some days he would say the most out of pocket things to her that she wasn’t quite sure how to react. Nonetheless, she enjoyed his company, and was curious to get to know him better.

“What are you up to with your free afternoon?” She asks him, breaking the silence they’d fallen into since exiting the class.

“Just studying,” He shrugs. “You?”

“Training,” She shrugs back. “I haven’t really done anything else since I got here. Though I’ve been dying to go see Tokyo, I’ve never been”

She peeks over at him out of the corner of her eye, a part of her hoping to find out if he was free this weekend. Maybe if she played her cards right, she could find a way to spend some more one on one time with him.

“Oh really?” He hums curiously. “It’s cool, I guess. Probably cooler if you weren’t raised there”

Her heart deflates a little, but she bounces back quickly and forces a smile.

“I’m sure,” She agrees quietly, with a small, awkward laugh. “I guess it’s old news to you guys, huh?”

“Nobara loves the shopping district, if that’s what you’re into, you should hit her up for a trip” Megumi tells her with a smile, certain with himself that he’s given her a great piece of advice, and also an outing with a new friend.

She can’t help but smile back at him, but there’s a sinking feeling in her chest that he wasn’t as interested in her as she thought he might have been, and her spirits dampen a little. “Good to know,” She replies. “I’ll have to ask her if she wants to hang out sometime”

She lets out a little sigh, her disappointment evident, but luckily they’ve reached the field, and she takes her bag from him.

“Thanks for carrying it, and walking with me,” (y/n) tells him. “That was sweet of you, you didn’t have to do that”

“I didn’t mind,” Megumi tucks his hands into his pockets. “Good luck in training” He tells her with an all-too confident smile for a guy that didn’t realize the girl he was trying to hit on just gave him a clear opening- and he missed it completely.

“Thanks,” (y/n) hums. “Good luck with studying”

With that she’s heading off, and Megumi’s on his way back to the building, hoping Maki hadn’t left a bunch of threatening texts on his phone about him being late. He’s just about to check when out of nowhere, his other two friends are racing towards him.

“Well? How was it!?” Yuuji’s grinning, certain that Megumi couldn’t have messed up such a simple, classic indication of romantic interest.

“Let me guess, she’s completely into you and you’re going out this weekend?” Nobara’s also grinning, her hands clasped together in excitement.

“Well, no, but she did want to go to Tokyo, so I told her you’d probably love to go” Megumi tells her.

Nobara and Yuuji pause, look at each other, and then their smiles drop and they’re both frowning at him.

“You’re kidding” Yuuji states, like it wasn’t even a question, because it had to be a joke.

“No,” Megumi shakes his head. “I figured it’d help her be closer friends with-”

“Idiot!” Nobara smacks the back of her hand against his shoulder, effectively cutting him off. “Why wouldn’t you offer to go with her?”

Megumi opens his mouth to defend himself, but realization strikes and he shuts himself up before he could even try. She was right.

Stupid! He scolds himself and slaps his palm to his forehead.

“It’s alright! It’s okay!” Yuuji scrambles to reassure his friend. “You still did a nice thing for her and had some one on one time, so… next time let’s just try to get you two alone for a little longer and… and we’ll talk more about how to move things forward, alright?”

He’s nodding at both Megumi and Nobara, hoping that she’d help pitch in to agree that he hasn’t completely blown it.

She rolls her eyes, but ultimately Nobara agrees to help.

(Clearly he needed all the help he could get) ___

Megumi wasn’t always the best at complimenting people, but complimenting (y/n) is what he’d been trying to do the past couple months, so Nobara suggested he focused more on that route. Words of affirmation couldn’t go wrong, right?

However she did tell him he needed to be a little more… romantic in his choice of compliments.

“Compliment her beauty! Tell her she has pretty eyes, tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, stuff like that” She’d said.

Saying something so intimate made his stomach do backflips, but if that’s what flirting was and that’s what would show (y/n) he liked her as more than a friend, then Megumi told himself he had to give it a shot.

And luckily a few days later, the perfect opportunity presented itself.

It was a nice day out and the two of them had made plans to study. (y/n) had suggested they do so at one of the many picnic tables scattered around the courtyard, to properly enjoy just lovely weather.

So there they were, just the two of them, comfortably quizzing each other, when Nobara passed by, seemingly casually. She makes a face at Megumi that he interpreted to mean ‘don’t fuck this up!’, but when (y/n) notices her, it’s nothing but smiles and waves.

“How does she look so pretty all the time?” (y/n) huffs, admiring the girl but clearly feeling a pinch of jealousy. “I swear, it’s like she doesn’t even try”

This is it! This is an opening! Megumi cheers internally, proud of himself for knowing this was the right time to say something, just like Nobara had taught him.

“It’s not like you’re trying”

(y/n) blinks, her eyes meeting his as she tries to figure out what he just said, because it made no sense.

She must have looked just as confused as she felt, because he’s stammering suddenly, trying too hard to explain himself.

“I- I mean you aren’t- you don’t have to- try, I mean,” He’s stuttering over his words so much she can barely keep up with what he’s trying to say.

He drops his head in his hands, hoping to cool his rapidly heating face, and also hide his embarrassment. He definitely fucked that up. And now he’s making a bigger idiot of himself by hiding behind his hands like a child. He wonders if he could convince his shikigami to kill him so he doesn’t have to look at her and further humiliate himself.

“What were you trying to say?” (y/n) asks, and to his surprise her voice is soft. It’s not cruel, she’s not laughing at him, and she doesn’t seem to be teasing him at all. The question sounds… genuine.

Megumi sighs, dragging his clammy palms down his face and keeping his eyes focused on the ground as if that would keep her from seeing his embarrassment.

“You don’t have to try to be pretty. You just are”

He’s still not looking at her, so he misses the way she grins, although she tries to bite it back. The blush creeping up her neck is threatening to take over her whole face, and she’s positive she’s making a fool of herself for reacting so girlishly to the compliment, but she can’t help it.

“You’re just saying that,” She says, giggling as she shakes her head. “You’re cheesing”

“No, ‘m not,” Megumi mumbles, turning his attention back to the textbook in front of him. “You’re very pretty” He adds in a quieter, almost too quiet, voice.

(y/n) blinked slowly, sure that when she opened her eyes again she would awake in her room, and this would all have been a silly dream.

But there he is, in front of her, furiously highlighting something, with a significant coat of pink over the bridge of his nose. He’ll have to ask Nobara later how the hell he was supposed to keep this up, because there’s no way he could look her in the eyes with how hot his face feels.

Did flirting mean he’d always be a blushing mess?

Smooth talking was not easy. And Megumi had a feeling he hadn’t quite been so smooth. He’d have to find another way to flirt with her without making him shrink into the collar of his shirt.

Sparing his embarrassment, (y/n) dives back into their studies, asking him to quiz her with her flashcards again. It takes a few minutes for him to stop stammering and blushing, but after a while he’s back to his usual self. Maybe just a little more nervous than usual. But (y/n) doesn’t mind. In fact, she sort of likes it.

Yuuji comes by when they’re wrapping up their study sesh, hanging out and chatting with them both while they pack up their things.

While (y/n) is distracted with organizing her flashcards, the pink haired boy gives Megumi a grin, and a wink. Megumi’s stomach drops in fear of whatever that was a signal for.

“So,” Yuuji starts, and Megumi mentally braces himself. “Nobara and I got paired up for a mission tomorrow! So I guess it’s just you two for movie night”

“Movie night?” (y/n) crinkles her brow, not recalling a plan for movie night. “I’m sorry, did we have plans?” She asks sheepishly, embarrassed to have forgotten.

“That’s okay! No biggie, since it’s just you and ‘gumi here” Yuuji elbows his friend in the arm, maybe a little harsher than usual.

Was that supposed to be some signal to say something? Megumi casts his friend a confused look. This was a stupid ploy anyways, there was no movie night.

“Don’t call me that” Megumi rolls his eyes in response, choosing to ignore the hint, whatever it meant.

“Okay,” (y/n) shrugs a shoulder, sending a smile towards Megumi. “I mean, I’m free. Is there already a movie picked out?”

Yuuji turns to his friend, smiling proudly that his plan worked, and he’d scored them some one on one time that wasn’t studying, for once.

“Uh, no, guess not” Megumi replies lamely, unsure of what kind of recommendation to make.

Truthfully, he preferred reading. He didn’t hate movies, and he’d seen many in the past, but he didn’t know what (y/n) preferred, and he didn’t want to pick something she’d hate and make her change her mind.

“Great! I’ll pick one then,” She decides, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Megumi visibly relaxes. Yuuji brings his fist to his mouth to hold back a laugh, but it’s not very discreet.

“Hope you like horror” (y/n) says

“Yeah, I, uh, horror’s good” Megumi stammers.

She laughs, and Yuuji decides this is a safe spot to end the interaction and all but drag Megumi away. He bids (y/n) a cheerful goodbye as he shoves his taller friend away, leaving (y/n) confused but still laughing at the weird pair.

A moment later Megumi looks over his shoulder and gives her an awkward wave goodbye. She returns it, smiling at him.

He’s a little far to be sure, but she swears, he’s blushing again.

Leading her to wonder if her suspicions were true.

Did Megumi have a crush on her? ___

At this point, Yuuji and Nobara had pretty much threatened Megumi that if he couldn’t get his shit together for this movie night, they were going to take matters into their own hands to put him and (y/n) together.

“We’ve pretty much secured you a date, got it?” Nobara had snapped as she searched through his closet for just the right thing to wear. “Do you know how hard it is to convince Gojo we need to go on a paired assignment?”

“Uh… not hard at all?” Megumi had replied.

“Well… that’s true. But it’s not how I wanted my Friday night to go!”

He hadn’t loved letting Nobara go through his closet and dress him up like an oversized doll, but he also didn’t hate the end product. It was simple, but the black jeans and dark green sweater must have been the right choice, because when (y/n) met him in the common room she’d smiled and complimented him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of uniform,” She’d joked as she plopped onto the sofa. “You clean up nice”

He hesitated for a minute before sitting beside her, suddenly all too aware that it would be just the two of them, for the whole night, on this couch.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not” He replied.

(y/n) took the remote and began searching for the movie she’d had in mind, but not before chuckling at him and shaking her head.

“Of course I’m not,” She says. “I mean it. You look nice. You have good style, Megumi”

Alright, so he’ll have to thank Nobara later, and also make sure to never get rid of this sweater.

“Thanks” He mumbles, the familiar feeling of a blush already creeping across his nose.

(y/n) finally finds the movie, and excitedly pushes play before tossing the remote to the coffee table in front of them.

“I love horror movies,” She tells him, settling back into the couch cushions. “But you should know, I also hate them”

Megumi gives her a confused look.

“You love them and hate them?” He repeats, not understanding.

“I think they’re great, but, uh, I hate jump scares” She admits, turning away from him to watch the intro credits.

“Well, everyone hates jump scares,” Megumi tells her, also focusing on the movie. “But you exorcize curses scarier than any movie monster” He adds.

(y/n) bites her lip to keep herself from smiling too hard.

In all honesty, she’d been far too giddy about this movie night. She’d spent too much time choosing just the right film to show Megumi, and just the right outfit to wear to seem as casual as possible. She’d been crossing her fingers that her suspicions were true, that Megumi had the same crush on her that she had on him. But being too nervous to outright ask him, she decided she’d do everything she could to make tonight the most perfect, easy going, fun night she could.

Megumi gets pretty immersed into the film, although with the intro alone he’s pretty much able to guess how the rest of the movie goes, he doesn’t mind. It helps that (y/n) seems very into it, and keeps looking over at him to see his reactions to certain scenes.

About halfway into the movie, Megumi pauses it.

“Do you want popcorn?” He asks, and (y/n) breaks into a smile and nods at him.

Despite him offering to make two bowls and bring it out to her, (y/n) follows him into the small kitchen and waits with him while the bag is in the microwave. She pulls herself up to sit on the counter while they wait.

“So what kind of movies do you like?” She asks, hoping to spend these few minutes getting to know him better.

“Oh,” Megumi laughs under his breath, wishing he was a better liar. He decides a little truth to her question wouldn’t hurt. “Actually, I kinda prefer to read”

“Really?” (y/n’s) eyes light up. “What do you like to read, then?”

“Nonfiction mostly,” Megumi says with a shrug. “I know, it’s boring”

“I don’t think so,” (y/n) says, which he doesn’t expect. “I actually love reading about science, and true crime”

He does his best to hide it, but Megumi’s thrilled. A common interest, Yuuji said to find a common interest and stick to it!

While the popcorn pops, Megumi asks more about the books she’s liked, and even asks for a few recommendations. She promises to text him about them later so he won’t forget, and he promises he’ll read them. (y/n) seems to be happy about this, and Megumi mentally cheers to himself.

Their salty treat is finished shortly enough, and Megumi grabs two bowls from the cabinet.

“You can just put it in one, I don’t mind sharing” (y/n) interjects before he dirties either of the smaller bowls. “Unless that bothers you, of course” She adds.

“It doesn’t bother me” Megumi replies, swapping out the dishes for one larger bowl that could fit the whole bag.

(y/n) hops off the counter and snatches the bowl as she walks back into the living room, Megumi trailing closely behind her.

He takes the bowl back from her as he sits on the couch, and when she sits behind him, he realizes the beauty of sharing the popcorn.

“You better brace yourself, Megumi, because this is when the movie gets really scary” (y/n) says, and she sounds like she’s only half joking.

He musters a small laugh, but she’s sitting much closer to him than she was before so that they could share their snack easier, and his brain is getting foggy from the sweet smell of her shampoo.

Was it flowery or fruity? He wondered but couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

She wasn’t wrong, the movie did take a turn for the darker, although Megumi wasn’t really one to get genuinely scared from scary movies, (y/n) did flinch here and there at the jumpscares. With the side of her thigh pressed against his, he could feel it every time her leg twitched.

Their eyes remained glued to the screen, lost in the movie as the main character tiptoed around the house with only a flashlight for lighting. Megumi could understand now why everyone hated the main characters of these movies, they were always running off on their own and getting themselves into more trouble than necessary. Although he is reminded of Yuuji.

Encaptured by the tv screen, they’re both blindly reaching for popcorn here and there, addicted to the buttery treat as soon as they’d started eating it. As Megumi reached his hand over to snag another piece, he’d accidentally brushed his fingers over (y/n’s), not seeing that she’d also been grabbing some.

Anxiously, he pulls his hand away, turning to apologize right away. But (y/n) looks over at him with a smile before taking a few pieces and popping them into her mouth, turning back to the movie, clearly unfazed.

From that alone, Megumi feels his face go hot, and he tells himself he’s not going to have anymore popcorn, just to save himself the embarrassment.

But, if he did have a craving for a few more pieces, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if his hand touched hers again… would it?

He felt hot from his neck to his ears, and he’d already lost track of the last few minutes of the movie. Meanwhile (y/n) only seemed to get more comfortable, tucking her legs up onto the couch underneath her, thus making her lean just the slightest bit more against him. She was so close Megumi was holding his breath. She didn’t even realize this until after a few minutes, she noticed he wasn’t eating.

“Am I hogging it?”

She was whispering, even though there wasn’t currently dialogue in the movie, so he wouldn’t have been all that distracted if she’d spoken normally. However, when he looked down at her to ask what she meant, he’s immediately distracted again.

She’s so much closer to him now that when he looks down at her, her face is just a few mere inches away from his. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to her, not even when training. His voice catches in his throat, and he spends a good minute just silently staring at her with wide eyes.

(y/n) starts to blush under his intense stare and close proximity, but she doesn’t shy away from him, she simply repeats her question.

“The popcorn,” She clarifies, shaking the bowl with the remnants of their snack. “Am I hogging it?”

Megumi’s eyes briefly flicker to it, but quickly return to hers as he shakes his head.

“No, you’re good,” He finally speaks, and finds that he’s whispering, too. “I mean, I can always just make more, if you want”

He’s talking slowly, like he’s not really sure of what he’s saying, but (y/n) doesn’t mind, or find it all too odd. She’s quite enjoying getting an up close view of his face. She allows herself to really take in all his features, the way his hair almost hangs over his eyes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the deep blue of his eyes, she’s getting positively lost in staring at him. Even as the main character is screaming for their life on the tv in front of them, neither one of them loses their focus on the other.

Megumi’s mind is running wild, noticing the trail of her eyes everywhere they go. As he’s admiring her, she’s admiring him, and he’s trying so hard to work up the courage to do something when her lashes droop low and her eyes land on his lips.

“And for the love of god, if the moment arises that you should kiss her, then fucking do it!” Nobara’s voice rang in his head.

He’s not sure how he landed himself in this perfect intimate moment, but he knows he shouldn’t waste it.

“I- I think you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” He stutters a little, but tries to ignore and keep this brief burst of confidence intact. “And, I’m glad you wanted to, um, hang out”

A small smile tugs at the corners of (y/n’s) lips, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering around even more from the flattering.

“That’s funny,” She murmurs. “I was just thinking the same thing,”

Megumi’s flustered, his heart is beating excessively, his face is hotter than it’s ever been, and his tongue is tied, but he smiles back at her, soft and warm and inviting.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Have you been trying to flirt with me?”

(y/n) can’t contain the smile on her face as she asks him her question, too eager for his answer. And when his blush darkens and his eyes momentarily stare down at nothing, her hopes only skyrocket.

“Trying” Megumi mutters the word she used back to her.

“So you have?” (y/n) giggles, leaning in closer to meet his eyes again.

Her eyes are so bright, Megumi can tell, even without the lights on in the common room, even with little to no light coming from the tv due to the dark setting of the movie. She’s practically glowing with happiness.

“Yeah,” He admits nervously. “I have”

(y/n) moves the popcorn bowl off her lap, moving away from him briefly so she could set it on the coffee table, before leaning back towards him, just as close as she was before. His instincts battle as half of him wants to lean back to give her space, and the other half wants to close the rest of the distance between them.

“Is that what all the compliments on my training were about?” She asks with a knowing smile.

Megumi nods his head shyly.

(y/n’s) giggling again, soft and angelic and he couldn’t possibly be upset that she’s laughing at him, because the sound is so sweet he’d do anything to make her laugh more.

“There wasn’t a movie night, was there?” She asks quietly.

He shakes his head this time.

“So… Yuuji just wanted to set you up, huh?” She asks again as she starts to put the pieces together.

Megumi raises a hand to the back of his neck awkwardly, but he knows he can’t really convince her otherwise, so he confesses.

“Yeah… he… said that I wasn’t doing a good enough job and that I needed a push” He admits, turning his head to the side to hide the now burning blush on his face.

“Well, that’s kind of silly, I thought you were doing a great job,” (y/n) says, and Megumi peeks back at her out of the corner of his eye. “But I can’t complain, I’m just glad I got to spend more time alone with you, anyways”

Slowly, he faces her again.

“You are?” He asks, unsurely.

(y/n) nods and gives him an affirmative hum.

“I thought you were just really into studying,” She teases. “I didn’t think I’d ever get you alone for something fun”

Flustering, Megumi tries to defend himself.

“I- I like fun stuff too”

“Like what?” (y/n) asks.

Trying to think on his feet, he thinks back to what Yuuji had described to be actual dates.

“Ice cream,”

He says it so surely, so confidently, that (y/n) has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from laughing this time. She has a pretty good understanding of what he’s trying to say, but he’s just so damn cute.

Megumi cringes at himself, smacking his own forehead and wishing the ground would swallow him whole, because it was impossible to keep his sanity when he was talking to her.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that,” He assures her. “I meant I like going out. I would like to go out- we- we could go out-”

“Megumi,” (y/n) ends his misery, reaching forward and tugging on his wrist so he’d remove his hand from his face. “I would like to go out with you for ice cream” She tells him with a sweet smile.

He doesn’t know what he did to make this girl like him, because he’s pretty sure he’s made an idiot of himself every time he opens his mouth, but he thanks whoever is watching over him that he’s done something that works.

“Really?”

(y/n) nods, her hand sliding into his, fingers slotting in the spaces between his. Her hand is significantly smaller compared to his, and it’s so warm it’s almost comforting. It is comforting. He can feel his shoulders relax, and his heartbeat finally slowing to a normal pace.

“Really” She affirms.

The tv is flickering with the rolling credits of the movie they’d forgotten, and Megumi finally feels like he could have a grasp on this whole flirting thing.

“Can I kiss you?”

(y/n) smirks.

“It’d be a shame if you didn’t”

He didn’t need much more of an answer than that. With his free hand wrapping around the back of her neck to draw her a few mere inches forward, his lips slant over hers and any embarrassment left in him disappears in a second. (y/n) returns his kiss with fervor, letting his hand go so she could give into the intrusive thoughts that had attacked her all night, running her fingers through his hair, nails scraping slightly at the nape of his neck.

The sensation was enough to give him an ego boost, and Megumi drops a hand to her hip, pulling her closer until her chest leaned into his, and even still he pulled more, and more, until they couldn’t possibly be any closer.

His lips dragged over hers as his nose prodded hers to the side, tilting his head to deepen their kiss further. A hum of approval traveled up her throat and vibrated gently against his mouth, and she could only sneak in a few more kisses until she had to pull on his sweater to make him stop so she could catch her breath.

Their blushing faces are mirrored now, both smiling shyly, and still clinging onto one another.

“Did Yuuji give you advice on that too?” (y/n) chuckled, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Megumi chuckles, his eyes falling to her now swollen lips.

“If I say yes, are you going to stand me up for our ice cream date?”

The pair giggle quietly amongst themselves, (y/n’s) arms wrapped loosely around his neck, Megumi’s arms wrapped loosely around her waist, neither one of them wanting to part even though their movie had ended and it was rather late into the evening.

“So it’s a date now?” (y/n) quirks a brow.

Megumi smiles, more sure of himself now than he has been in the last couple of months.

“Of course it is”

(y/n) smiles back at him melting a little further into his embrace.

“So then I suppose that makes you my boyfriend” She adds cheekily.

Megumi raises a hand to curl his fingers under her jaw, his thumb stroking lazily over her skin. He watches this movement for a minute as he relishes in the delight of being bestowed such a title.

He decides to steal the moment with a kiss, which (y/n) happily returns. This kiss is softer than their first. It’s also shorter, but just as passionate. He’s smiling again when they part, resting his forehead against hers as he gazes fondly into her eyes.

“I suppose it does” ___

this was supposed to be SHORT what did i DO

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi imagine #fushiguro megumi x you #megumi brainrot #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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nonotnolan · 2 months

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The Ends Justify The Means

As always, this February story is dedicated to my valentine, @mergeman

"Okay, but did we have to add him to the Hivemind?" Jordan said, looking at his unconscious boss with a look of resigned disappointment. "If I end up with an old man's vocabulary because of him, I'm gonna be so upset. This body looks too good to sound like a geezer." He tossed his shirt to the ground and gave me a flex. "See what I mean?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Some humans stress-tested my 40% Free Will rule, and Jordan was definitely one of them. "One, bringing him into the Collective is the only way to bend his authority to our will. Two, the symbiote doesn't change our speech, it just enhances our knowledge. And three, the eventual goal is to overtake most of humanity anyway. We were gonna have to add Shaun sooner or later."

Jordan nodded, though I doubted he was paying any attention me. He was one of the part-time workers I had converted within the past two hours, and so his symbiote half was still checking out his new body. I can't blame it, I suppose.

I wasn't sure this plan was even going to work, so I was glad we managed to succeed. Capturing the part-time college students who worked here had been easy-- a bit of flirting from a tempting body, a kiss to introduce the symbiote, rinse and repeat. Shaun had been much more difficult. We had to resort to ambushing him in the bathroom where there we no cameras. Jordan's strength held him in place while I pried open his jaw to insert the new symbiote. It was far from elegant-- Shaun was stronger than he looked-- but at least it worked.

Shaun finally opened his eyes, and looked at me with a wry grin. "Alright, sir. I know we have a lot to talk about, but let's retreat somewhere else, shall we? It's cramped in here, and I think Jordan is a few moments away from whipping his dick out."

"You're not wrong," I said, shaking my head. "We should probably leave him to it. If nothing else, it will be nice to talk things over someplace a bit... less pungent. I assume you know what is going to be expected of you?"

"I do," Shaun says, crossing his arms. "Although I was hoping to talk to you about that one. I scheduled Darren to work Valentine's Day because I haven't had that day off for the past three years. This body's wife is threatening to make life miserable if I still have to work the holiday despite my recent promotion. I have a proposal for you."

I smiled at the audacity of this symbiote. Clearly its host body had a lot of confidence.

"Darren will still get the day off, of course," Shaun said. "But instead of working the day myself, I'll just tell Jenn that she's going to have to handle the shift solo. We don't need two store managers tomorrow night-- no one goes furniture shopping on Valentine's."

----------------------------------------------

"You'll never guess what happened today!" Darren said, greeting me when I arrived home. He and I had been dating for a few weeks now, ever since I was granted control over this host body. Unlike the symbiotes who were mostly extensions of my mind and my personality, I had full control and full autonomy over my decisions. Coming out of the closet was one of the first changes I made to this host's former life.

"Your store is actually closing for a holiday?" I guessed, walking up to him and hugging him from behind. I held him close, feeling the heat of his body against my borrowed chest. Humans were very big on physical contact, and it was a ritual I was more than happy to join.

Darren chuckled as he turned around for a quick kiss. "Okay, so it wasn't a miracle. But it was still pretty crazy! Shaun texted me, and approved my vacation time for tomorrow. Can you believe that? I've never known him to change his mind like that before."

I just smiled at him. "Maybe your District Manager yelled at him about it? You did submit that request a few months ago." As much as I hated feeding white lies and omitted facts to my boyfriend, I couldn't justify telling him my full truth this early in the relationship. Anyway, the only way I'd be filling him with a symbiote would be if we broke up and he posed a risk to my secret. I wanted a relationship with an equal, not a masturbatory fling with a clone of myself. Anyway, what was the phrase? The ends justify the means.

"Well, maybe." He paused a few minutes to consider this possibility before shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, and I'm not going to question it. I'm just glad you kept those dinner reservations! I'm looking forward to tomorrow's date!" He smiled, and I could feel my heart melting. I would do anything in my power to make him happy.

#male body merge #male possession #alien possession #hivemind #gay male story #queer romance

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livingemkayde · 9 months

Text

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 year

Text

babydoll

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

word count: 800 ▪︎ masterlist

The reader and Bucky have a 4am encounter.

You scramble out of bed, groggy from sleep. Having woken up half an hour ago, you've just been lying there, staring at the ceiling, thinking of what Natasha said to you earlier.

"I have it on good authority that one Sergeant Barnes has his eye on you."

"Oh? And whose authority is that?"

"Mine, of course," she winked, "The only authority you can trust in this compound, mind you."

Your footsteps make no sound as you quietly walk to the shared kitchen on your floor. Everyone's sound asleep, or potentially out at some bar, if they were coaxed into it by Sam. Potentially world-ending events, terrorist threats, homicidal purple aliens. Whatever might come, Sam's enthusiasm to grab a drink and lay back will never wane. Everyone's best friend.

The panel to the kitchen slides open, F.R.I.D.A.Y. scanning and recognizing you. You blink through the haze of sleep, and proceed to rummage through the fridge. Tony's cheeseburgers, Wanda's borscht, Nat's carefully planned meals. And an obscene amount of beer. Taking one, you shuffle around for the bottle opener.

"Need some help with that?" A deep voice asks, startling the shit out of you. The bottle slips from your fingers, but a metal arm catches it just before it empties out on the floor.

"Fuck!" Your eyes meet Bucky's in the faint light, "you really do move like a ghost, don't you?"

"Actually, the name's Buck," he hands the bottle to you, with a cheeky smirk, "and yes, I've been told that before."

"Funny," your heartbeat still races, but no longer due to the almost-accident.

"Here," he reaches forward and deftly twists the bottle cap off with one hand, and clinks his bottle to yours, "Cheers, babydoll."

You take a huge gulp of beer to stifle your awkwardness. Damn him and his hulking form and his sensual musk and his steel blue gaze.

"What was that you called me?" you leaned back against the counter to steady yourself, "Don't think you've said it before. Not to me anyway."

"Hmm, what? Babydoll?" There's a playfulness in his eyes, as if he's aware of how he's making you feel.

"Yeah, it sounds... nice."

He takes another swig of his drink, "Glad you think so. It suits you. Anyway, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I was just sitting over there," he points to the couch in the dim corner of the room, "and you didn't seem to notice me."

"Couldn't sleep either?" You peer up at him, and let your eyes run over the faint lines around his. You make a mental note of how beautiful it is when he smiles and they appear like sunburst. It took a long time for Bucky to come back to himself, but he truly has let go of the Winter Soldier.

"Mmm," he leans against the counter beside you, and you're even closer than before, "sleep doesn't come easy to me. But at least I bumped into you now, eh?"

"Were you looking for me, Barnes?" You don't know where you've found the courage to flirt, but you're not dwelling on it.

"I just," he hesitates, pausing between his words, "haven't seen you around so much. And... I wanted to. See you more, that is."

Was Bucky getting flustered around you? Perhaps Natasha was not kidding, after all. You already hoped, but it's different to see it now, unfolding in front of you.

You smile, and his lips slowly curve upward while looking at you. "Why is that?"

"Y'know, the last person I called babydoll was this dame called Dot. I took her on a couple dates, back in the 40s. I liked her quite a lot then, so I suppose I saw fit to call her by that little name."

"Oh?" You mull over his words, confused as to why he's telling you about another girl. And then...

"Oh." You whisper once more, "So you..?"

He sets his beer on the counter, and stands in front of you. Bracing his hands on your waist, he lowers his lips close to your ear, "I like you quite a lot now, babydoll."

Blood rushes to your face, and you feel lightheaded. Definitely not due to the alcohol.

"And, I actually have it on good authority that you like me too," he adds.

Realization hits you, and you can't help but fondly roll your eyes, "Tell me, Buck, does this 'good authority' happen to be a certain redheaded former assassin?"

"Yeah, how did you..." His eyes widen slightly, "Oh, of course. She told you, didn't she?"

"That's our Nat," you smile, and testing the waters, you interlace your fingers behind his neck.

Sunburst lines erupt around his magnetic blue eyes, "So I take it she was telling the truth?"

"Oh, just kiss me already."

🖤

First ever Bucky blurb. I've always loved his character, but why did I feel like I was cheating on Aemond or Daemon? 😭 wow, I need therapy..

Not me thinking, 'Aemond would be so jealous right now.' Hahahaha it's a problem.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #mcu fic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine

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octoberclidan · 1 year

Text

You're Not a Burden

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Reader (she/her) has been distant from both Sam and Dean recently. Dean goes to her apartment to find that reader has been struggling with her mental health. He brings her back to the bunker and makes her let him and Sam take care of her.

Note: this was written by myself for myself; there are probably mistakes. My first language is English but I'm not American, so it may sound weird in places if you happen to be American reading it. If you do happen to come across this and spend time reading it, I hope you enjoy it somewhat!

Masterlist

Story:

Dean made his way from the bunker's kitchen to the library, hoping to find Sam and see if there were any possible cases. They'd only just finished up a case the day before, but they were on a winning streak and Dean wanted to get as many wins in as he could while their luck lasted.

"So get this". Music to Dean's ears. Sam was staring intently at his laptop screen, and Dean walked over to look at the screen over Sam's shoulder.

"A couple were found dead in this abandoned house, I had a look back at the history and turns out there's a pattern. A couple has died in that house every six years going back to 1953". Sam explained while he was scrolling through a news article. "Think maybe [Y/N] would want to tag along for this? I know she's been busy the last few cases, but this sounds like a ghost to me and she's good with those".

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah I'll call her. Haven't seen her in awhile anyway, it would be good to catch up and see what she's been so busy with".

"You miss her don't you?" Sam smirked at him.

"What? Sure, of course I miss her when she's not around. Like Cas, or Jody, or... or Garth"

"You miss [Y/N] like you miss Garth?"

"Shut up". Sam still had a knowing smirk on his face and Dean glared at him. He enjoyed spending time with her when she joined them on hunts. They had first met on a ghost case several years back, Dean had instantly started to hit on her, and they developed a very flirty friendship but had never done anything. She often helped them on hunts, especially ghost hunts, but she also just hung out with them a lot too. She had watched movies with Dean, documentaries with Sam, sparred with both of them and researched with them. At least, she used to. They had been seeing less and less of her recently, she always seemed to be busy whenever Dean tried to call or text her.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called her, but it rang out. He tried again, and to his surprise she answered.

"Hi Dean". She sounded quieter, less energetic than usual.

"Hey Sweetheart, Sam and I think we have a possible ghost case, do you want in?"

"Oh I'm actually busy with something, but if you guys run into trouble just let me know".

"Are you okay [Y/N]? You don't really sound like yourself".

"Yeah I'm fine".

"Maybe after we're back you could come over to the bunker for a movie night? We haven't had one in months".

"Yeah, I have to go now, good luck and say hi to Sam". [Y/N] hung up on Dean before waiting for a response from him. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean's confused expression.

"She just said she was busy again".

"Huh, think everything's okay?" Asked Sam, his expression turning to one of concern.

"You think maybe she's seeing someone?"

"What like dating? Would that bother you?"

Dean scoffed, trying to hide the answer that was probably written on his face. The truth was that it would definitely bother him. Although he and [Y/N] had never gone past flirting, he knew he had stronger feelings for her.

***

The hunt was successful, and the boys were back in the bunker within two days of leaving. Dean had texted [Y/N] while on the case asking for advice on an aspect of the case that he didn't really need advice on, but she hadn't answered him. Sam noticed him checking his phone at any chance he got, and Dean was noticeably distracted on the drive home.

"Dude why don't you just go see her?" Sam said as they walked down the bunker's staircase.

"What?"

"[Y/N], you know her address, it's only a 40 minute drive away. If you're that worried about her just go see her, I don't need you that distracted on a hunt, you almost let the ghost throw you through a window because you were checking your phone. In an abanded house, with the EMF reader going off, lights flickering, cold air, the whole works, you had your salt gun down by your side and were checking your phone!"

"Whatever Sammy". Dean rolled his eyes and made for the showers.

Dean walked from the shower back to his bedroom. Before even taking off his towel and getting dressed he checked his phone. Nothing from [Y/N]. He texted her again, asking if she was up for that movie night at the bunker. After getting dressed he checked his phone, no answer. He sat on his bed staring at his phone for a few minutes before calling her, but it rang out. Not being able to take the silence anymore, he grabbed his keys, stormed past Sam and got straight into the Impala, setting off for [Y/N]'s apartment. He needed to know that she was alive at least.

***

[Y/N] heard her phone buzzing for the fourth or fifth time that day, but ignored it again. She was tucked into her bed, and had been since the previous day. She had barely left her apartment at all in the last month, only really venturing out once or twice when she had finally run out of food. She felt tired, drained, and unmotivated. She hadn't hunted, hadn't met up with any of her friends, and just spent most days in bed either half paying attention to her TV or aimlessly scrolling through her phone. Any time someone tried to contact her over the last couple of months she had told them she was 'busy', not wanting to go through the effort of showering, dressing properly, and putting on a show. Over the last few days she had stopped responding altogether. The last person she had spoken to was two days ago when Dean asked her if she wanted to go on a ghost hunt, a conversation that lasted less than a minute.

She didn't know or care what the time was or how long she had been in bed that day, and was about to doze off again when the doorbell rang. The unexpected noise made her freeze. She waited a couple of minutes, trying to listen for further noise when there was a loud knock on the front door. Grabbing the gun on her bedside table, she slowly made her way out to the door. She stood up on her toes to look through the peephole and felt relief when she saw Dean Winchester standing on the other side. He looked agitated, and about two minutes away from kicking the door in. Before he had a chance, [Y/N] unlocked it and opened it just enough for her to show half of her face.

Dean paled when he saw her. She had severe bags under her eyes, she had obviously lost weight, her hair was all tangled and her clothes were creased, she had definitely slept in them.

"Dean?" Her voice was only slightly above a whisper.

"Sweetheart" Dean sighed, face full of concern. "Can you let me in please?"

[Y/N] just nodded and opened the door farther, stepping back to let Dean come in. He closed the door behind him and put his hands on her shoulders, slightly crouching down to get to her level and look her in the eyes. "Talk to me". He pleaded with her.

"I'm just tired Dean". She was avoiding eye contact, looking down and focusing her attention on nervously intertwining her fingers together.

"[Y/N] this is not just tiredness. When was the last time you ate? Brushed your hair? Left your apartment?"

"I don't know".

"Okay, you're coming back to the bunker now."

"No wait, Dean-"

"You're coming, no excuses, you're not busy, you just need a bit of help to get back on track".

"I don't want to be a burden. I'm just feeling a bit sad, I'll get over it, you can just leave me here".

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. You're not a burden. Think of all those times you've helped me get through things, or Sam? It's okay to need to lean on us sometimes [Y/N], but you have to be honest with us, okay? No saying you're busy when you're actually feeling down from now on. You can be vulnerable around me, I already know you're a badass hunter, you've nothing to prove to me. Let me help you get your strength back". Dean grabbed her hand and opened the door, pulling her out of the apartment and down to the impala. He opened the passenger door for her before going around to the driver's side.

***

The drive back to the bunker was quiet. Dean would glance over to [Y/N] occasionally and each time would be shocked at how run down she looked. She was still beautiful to him, but he would much prefer a healthier look. When they got back he led the way down the stairs of the bunker, Sam looking up at them from the map table.

"Hey [Y/N], long time no see! How are... hey are you okay?" Sam stood up once he got a better look at [Y/N], just as surprised as Dean was at her appearance.

[Y/N] just nodded at him and tried to hide slightly behind Dean, not wanting anyone else to see her like this.

"Come on, you're gonna have a bubble bath and then you're going to watch a movie with me and Sam." Sam smiled sadly at her as they passed him, Dean holding her hand and leading her to the bathroom. She sat down on the closed toilet seat while Dean began drawing a bath, making as many bubbles as he could. No one had ever looked after her like this, her heart swelled at Dean's attitude towards her this evening. He hadn't made her feel embarrassed about how he'd found her or how she was acting, he really just wanted to help her.

"Right, that should be nice and hot. You get out of those clothes and get yourself comfortable in there okay? Don't lock the door, I'll be back in a bit with some clean clothes for you. You can use the soap there on the side of the bath. I'll get Sam to set up one of the bedrooms for you. You're going to stay here with us until we all agree that you're really alright." [Y/N] nodded in understanding, too tired to refuse, and Dean left, closing the door behind him.

The bath water was a perfect temperature, and once she lay down there were enough bubbles to completely cover her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a few seconds, just letting herself enjoy something for once, before picking up the bar of soap and getting to work. True to his word, Dean was back with a pile of neatly folded clothes. He left them on the counter and kneeled down next to her, something black in his hand. Holding it up to her, she could see it was a hairbrush.

"Let's tackle this tangle of hair will we?" He smiled softly at her. "Sam said we could use some of his special conditioner that he keeps hidden under the sink". He winked and leaned over to grab it. "Can you lean forward for me a bit?"

"You don't have to detangle my hair Dean, I can do it myself".

"I know you can, but I would like you to let me do this for you".

[Y/N] gave in and turned her back to Dean, giving him better access to the mess on her head. He scooped up some water with his hands and poured it onto her head, dampening her hair. He then squeezed some of Sam's conditioner out into his hand and began gently threading it through [Y/N]'s hair. He used his fingers to untangle the worst of it, working from the ends and making his way up to her scalp. Once he got to the top of her head he began massaging her scalp, and [Y/N] couldn't help but close her eyes and lean back into his hands. He smiled at this, comforted by the fact that he was able to make her relax and feel good.

After a few minutes Dean added some more conditioner to her hair and picked up the hairbrush. He began to gently brush through her hair, now focusing on only the few small tangles that were left. They didn't speak, but the silence wasn't awkward, it was comfortable for both of them. [Y/N] felt both vulnerable and safe there with Dean, just letting him take care of her.

Once Dean had rinsed her hair he noticed that the bubbles were starting to die down, and the water was getting cooler. Not wanting to expose [Y/N] or make her cold, he decided to stand up and let her get dressed. "There's a clean towel here for you, and I've left some clothes on the counter. They're gonna be too big for you so make sure roll up the pants so you don't trip. You just take your time and when you're finished make your way to the Dean Cave okay? I'll get Sam to go get some food from that diner you like and I'll be setting up for the movie". With that, he closed the door behind him.

[Y/N] dried herself off and picked up the clothes that Dean had left her; an old t-shirt, one of his warmer looking flannels, a pair of his boxers, and pyjama bottoms. They were all loose on her, but definitely comfortable. She smiled when she noticed that the flannel smelled like Dean, the first time she had managed a smile in weeks. It felt like she was being hugged by him.

When she got to the Dean Cave, it was all set up ready for a movie. Dean looked up from his position on the couch and smiled at her when she walked in. He had loaned her a flannel before on cases, but seeing her entirely dressed in his clothes gave him a sense of warmth and comfort. "Hey Sweetheart, feeling a bit better?"

"Definitely cleaner and fresher, thank you Dean".

"No need to thank me". He patted the space beside him, motioning for her to take it. [Y/N] sat down a bit stiffly, not leaning back on the couch. "What is it Sweetheart?"

"It's just my hair is wet, if I lean against the couch it will dry kinda weirdly flattened on the back of my head".

Dean moved his thighs apart from each other. "Come on, sit down on the floor, I'll braid it for you".

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, starting to feel a bit amused at this gesture. "You know how to braid hair?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Charlie taught me, said it would be good to know if I ever finally managed to get a girlfriend or something". [Y/N] couldn't help put giggle at imagining Charlie trying to teach Dean how to braid hair, but she took his offer and sat down on the floor between his legs. Just like when he washed her hair, Dean was very gentle. He combed her hair back with his fingers and began to get to work.

"So do... do you ever like, want that?"

"Want what Sweetheart?"

"You know, a girlfriend".

Dean paused for a moment to think before continuing the braid. "I don't know how a girlfriend would work in this life. I don't want to bring anyone into the world of hunting, you know?"

"Yeah I get that. So what about someone already in that world?"

"I gue-"

"Hey guys, I got our food, movie ready to go?" Sam interrupted Dean as he came in with a bag from the diner, setting it down on the table Dean had set out in front of the couch. "Comfortable there [Y/N]?" Sam looked down at her.

"Hey Sam, did you know Dean could braid hair? He's actually pretty good at it". Dean had finished the braid and was now resting his hands on her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing them.

Sam chuckled "I didn't know that, no. You feeling any better?"

"Yeah a little, let's see what food you got though". She stood up to open up the bag. Once they all had their food out in front of them, and [Y/N] had sat back between the two brothers, the movie night began.

***

[Y/N] had been staying in the bunker for five days when Dean knocked on her open door. She was sitting up on her bed reading through one of the library's many books on ghosts. She was feeling a lot better than she had been. She no longer felt like showering or getting out of bed were chores. She was eating proper meals with the boys every day, going out for walks with Sam, and even helped Dean clean Baby. She was starting to feel very content, and the Winchesters were starting to feel like a family to her.

"Hey, what you reading?"

[Y/N] closed the old book and held it up so Dean could see the cover. "I found this book on cases of ghosts from the 18th century, it's pretty interesting". She smiled at him.

"Well, speaking of ghosts, Sam thinks he's found one not too far from here. Please say no if you're not feeling up to it, we can call Garth to check it out, but if you're feeling well enough, fancy joining myself and Sam?"

[Y/N] nodded at him. "I think it's time to get back out there, though might leave the heavy lifting to you and Sam?"

"Of course, just come out and meet us in the library when you're ready"

"Dean?" [Y/N] called to him while he was turning to leave the room, he turned back around and caught her gaze. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead". Dean walked over and sat on the end of her bed.

"I just wanted to say thank you for coming to get me. I was in a dark place and you saved me". Dean squeezed her leg comfortingly. "And I just wanted to ask, when do you want me to go back home?"

"Actually I was going to talk to you about that after the hunt. Sam and I talked it over and this room is yours. You can stay for as long as you like. If you want to split your time between your apartment and here that would be cool, or if you just wanna stay here, the bunker can be your home".

"Really? You wouldn't mind me being here?"

"Really". Dean leaned over and kissed [Y/N] on her forehead. When he leaned back he saw that her eyes were closed. There were no dark circles under them anymore, and she didn't look so gaunt either. She looked beautiful. Before he could change his mind, Dean titled his head slightly and pressed his lips to hers. [Y/N]'s eyes shot open in surprise, and she found Dean's were closed. She kissed him back and slid a hand up behind his neck. Dean deepened the kiss and grabbed her hip with one hand, his other still on her leg. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him in. He pushed forward causing her to fall back onto the bed, and he crawled over on top of her without breaking the kiss. Their hands roamed each other's arms and sides before eventually they broke for air. Dean smiled down and at her and she smiled up at him.

"I would definitely like a girlfriend who was already in the hunting life".

The end

#dean x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester #comfort #dean fluff

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 2 months

Text

And I Know It's Sad, But This Is What I Think About

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 4

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

6.2k words

Warnings: Language, brief mentions of alcohol, spoilers for The Great Gatsby

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Thank you as always to @agentstarkid for being the best and reading all my silly love stories💕

After my third Richmond game, April and I found ourselves once again having dinner with the Greyhounds at Ola’s. This time, Roy Kent and I sat with some of the players, who I was pleased to watch flirt with April; my beautiful assistant and best friend deserved the attention of hot, rich athletes, I decided.

While flirting with professional soccer players seemed to come easy to April, it felt like Roy and I were still figuring out how to flirt with each other. We sat close enough that our shoulders were touching, I flashed him plenty of coy smiles, and he made a point to whisper in my ear every now and then- although it was usually something like “Can I fucking leave now?” But still, if we were going to convince people that this was real, we’d probably have to step things up soon.

I remembered something Keeley had texted me the day before- we needed another date, and soon.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?” I murmured, loud enough for only Kent to hear.

He grunted and shifted in his seat. “Why?” After I simply narrowed my eyes at him, he sighed. “Keeley texted you too, hmm?” He sighed, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “What were you thinking?”

I thought for a moment, trying to avoid something simple like dinner, where we’d have to talk to each other and act like two people who were interested in each other. “Want to go on a picnic? We could bring a couple of books. Wouldn’t have to say a word to each other.”

Roy blinked, clearly processing what I’d just said; I could practically hear gears whirring before he finally spoke. “Sounds fucking perfect.”

Satisfied that I’d done my part, I turned my attention back to my delicious meal; if I got nothing else out of this fake relationship, at least I’d be well-fed for the next few months.

“Hey there!” Keeley Jones plopped down on my other side, smiling broadly at me.

Suddenly very aware of the eyes of the team on me, the way they’d been the night I “met” Keeley the first time I visited Ola’s, I returned her smile with one of my own, going so far as to playfully bump her shoulder with mine.

“Thank you again for inviting us to sit with you and Rebecca,” I gushed, and I really meant it; if I was going to be hanging out at Nelson Road, it was nice to do so in a comfortable suite with champagne in my hand. “It was actually really fun.”

Keeley’s smile widened; it was warm and friendly and genuine, making it obvious why everyone seemed to adore her. “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself! We’ll have to get you a Kent kit now, eh? I’ve got an old one you could have if you like.”

I swore Roy stiffened next to me. “That’s alright,” I assured her. “I think April was going to order one for me to wear to their next game.” I turned to Roy with a shrug. “Gotta look the part, right?”

Roy mumbled something about getting another beer and stood, pausing only to briefly touch my shoulder; I ignored how warm his touch was. Once he was gone, I turned my attention back to Keeley, whose eyes were following Roy with something that looked a lot like pity.

“How’re you two getting on?” she asked in a low voice, scooching closer.

The only response that felt right was a shrug. “It’s fine,” I murmured. “Definitely working on getting used to each other. Going from complete strangers to dating is… a unique way of getting to know someone.” She seemed to be waiting for me to continue, so I added, “We’re going on a picnic tomorrow. I told him we could bring a couple books, that way we don’t have to just stare at each other the whole time.”

The corner of Keeley’s mouth tugged upwards knowingly. “Now that is a perfect idea,” she said, eyes shifting back to Roy as he approached, beer in hand. “Absolutely perfect.”

“How’s here?”

Roy grunted in response and dropped the picnic basket to the ground. Ten minutes felt like far too long to look for the “perfect” picnic spot, but Keeley had been kind of specific; it needed to be a public enough spot that they would be seen, but secluded enough that it didn’t look like they were trying to be seen.

He was beginning to wish they’d just gone to the pub again; at least then he could have a pint.

Instead, he helped spread out the blanket they’d brought with them and opened up the picnic basket, the one Keeley had dropped off at his house early that morning and that his date- when the fuck would he have to start saying girlfriend?- had loaded with lunch and snacks. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of food she’d packed. Probably something trendy and vegan-y. Was she a vegan? Roy didn’t fucking know. But she was young and trendy and pretty and-

“Here.” She shoved something wrapped in white paper into his hands. “Should we eat first?”

Roy gingerly unwrapped the bundle, immediately recognizing its contents. “Is this a fucking kebab?”

She shrugged, already chomping on a bite of her own kebab. “Yeah. That a problem?”

Ignoring the annoyance in her voice, Roy took a bite; fuck, he’d know that flavor anywhere. “Where’d you get this?”

“That kebab place you like.” Her tone was casual, as if it didn’t matter. “I asked Keeley what you like, she sent me the address.” After eating another bite, she shrugged. “The owner asked me to bring in a headshot next time, said he’d give me free kebabs for life.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Roy’s grip tightened on his kebab; he ate there at least once a week and still was never given so much as a discount. But she goes in once and gets kebabs for life? Fucking hell. Well, at least he’d get to take advantage for the next few months. Maybe he would benefit from this charade after all.

Still munching on her kebab, she reached into the bag she’d brought and pulled out a book, settling herself into a comfortable position before opening it. Roy took the hint and grabbed his own book out of the picnic basket, a murder mystery his sister had given him for his birthday. He glanced up over the top of his book to get a glimpse of what she was reading.

“The Great Gatsby?” he asked, raising his thick eyebrows.

She nodded, her gaze still on her book. “It’s my favorite,” she said simply. After a moment, her eyes flickered up to meet Roy’s. “I try to read it every year.”

Not sure why he was still talking, Roy sat up a little straighter. “Every year? I mean, yeah, it’s a fucking good book, but why would you read it every fucking year?”

“It’s… familiar.” She set the book down, now fully looking at Roy. “Everyone is desperate to be at Gatsby’s parties, to be surrounded by his wealth and glamor, to drink his booze and enjoy his hospitality.” She frowned, eyes flittering back to the book. “But then only a handful of people attend his funeral. Once the party is over, no one cares about him anymore.” She looked back at Roy. “That’s going to be me, isn’t it?”

Roy was speechless. Something about the softness in her eyes was so familiar, almost like looking in a mirror. That’s going to be me, isn’t it? How many times had Roy mumbled something just as cynical and broken? How many people- reporters, women, friends, even family- had stopped calling once he slowed down? How many more once he stepped off the field for the last time? In her eyes Roy could see the same dejection and fear of loneliness that had nestled itself inside Roy’s chest these last few years. It was something hard to explain, something one could only understand if they’d felt it deep in their souls. And it seemed to be something they both shared.

But instead of admitting to understanding how she felt and allowing her to glimpse behind his scowls and hard expressions, Roy simply shifted on the blanket and bit off his lunch. “Fucking hell. Are you always some fucking tortured poet, sunshine?”

Her face faltered for only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for Roy to want to kick himself for ruining the moment. She quickly recovered, picking her book back up and burying herself back into Jay Gatsby’s empty affluence. “Read your fucking book, Kent,” she mumbled, flipping a page absently. “There’s a photographer in those bushes.”

Sure enough, when Roy glanced around out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out the familiar sight of a camera lens.

“So, how’s it going with Roy Kent?”

Lanie looked perky as we sat in her office. My guard was immediately up; a perky publicist was never a good sign, I’d learned. It usually meant they had something rotten to tell you.

Anticipating whatever it was, I slouched into my seat, ready to narrow my eyes or scowl at a moment’s notice. “It’s fine,” I mumbled. “Keeley Jones said our picnic date got a lot of positive attention, and she said the Greyhounds’ viewership has skyrocketed since I started attending matches. So, it looks like we’re doing our jobs pretty well. Is my press looking good?”

Lanie nodded, eyes on her phone. “Good, good,” she said absently, as if she wasn’t really listening.

“Lanie?” I called.

She looked back up at me. “Well, with the Roy Kent stuff, you’ve got plenty of attention, and it looks like people are excited to see you in a new relationship, especially with someone who looks like him.” She ignored the way I wrinkled my nose. “But, uh, this morning I got wind of something that might take a little attention away from you and Roy.” She handed me her phone with a grimace.

The photo was kind of blurry, but I knew the two figures immediately. Everett- my most recent ex- nuzzling close to Cameron, the woman who had once called herself my best friend until she found out that a boyfriend of hers hit on me. Even though I had clearly rebuffed him and told Cam right away, she very publicly ended our friendship and even more publicly accused me of trying to steal her man. And now, irony of ironies, there she was, attached to my ex-boyfriend like the leech Lanie had always warned me she was.

“Lovely,” I finally snorted, gingerly handing the phone back to Lanie. “Do we think it’s real or just for attention? I know Cam’s new show starts filming soon.”

Lanie rolled her eyes. “Please, they’re not clever enough to pull off something calculated. If anything, he’s trying to make you jealous and she’s trying to get revenge on you. Idiots.” She sighed and dropped her phone onto the coffee table. “But, of course, your name’s being dragged into it. The phrase ‘love triangle’ has been trending on Twitter all morning.”

“Gross.”

“Agreed.” Lanie rolled her neck, something she often did when she was stressed. “I’ve been on the phone with Keeley this morning, and we both agree it’s time to step things up with you and Roy. Go public, make things official. Attend an event together that’s not a Richmond dinner.”

How much further could I slouch before I ended up lying down on the couch? “What event did you guys have in mind?”

“Your annual fabulous karaoke party!”

Keeley Jones strutted into the office with Roy right behind her. She greeted Lanie and I each with friendly hugs and kisses on cheeks; Roy, on the other hand, opted for short nods to each of us. Lanie stood and motioned for Roy to take her seat beside me; we shuffled awkwardly to ensure our knees wouldn’t bump.

Once we were all settled, I turned to Keeley, who now stood next to Lanie. “My karaoke party?” I echoed, feeling my stomach churn.

The “party” was the main fundraiser I threw every year for my nonprofit back home; it was near and dear to my heart, incredibly personal, and my favorite night of the year.

And now I’d have to share it with Roy Kent.

Sensing my unease, Lanie smiled at me, one of her reassuring smiles, the kind she always had for me after a bad bit of press. “It’ll be great publicity,” she pointed out. “You’ll probably raise even more than you did last year. Can you imagine how many people will register for the livestream? Especially if he sings,” she added, pointing at Roy.

“Sing?” the manager practically spat. “I have to sing at this party?”

With a sigh that even I knew was overdramatic, I turned to look at him, taking in his scowl and furrowed brow. “It’s a karaoke party,” I explained slowly, remembering how condescending he’d been the very first time we’d spoken in front of the elevator at Keeley’s office. “People pay a pretty penny for a ticket, there’s a paid livestream of all the singing, and I always release a new song, with all the proceeds going to my nonprofit. It’s… kind of a big deal.”

When Roy frowned, I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he processed this new information. After a moment of silence, he opened his mouth. “You should invite some of the guys. They’d definitely fucking sing.”

Keeley bounced happily at Roy’s suggestion. “That would be perfect! And it would really show the two of you becoming part of each other’s worlds too.” She quickly tapped at her phone, somehow lighting up even brighter. “And it’s a bye week for them!” She shot me a wink. “Looks like the universe is really lining things up for us, hmm?”

All I could do was smile weakly, my mind spinning from learning about my ex-boyfriend and ex-friend becoming an item and finding out that I’d have to spend my favorite night of the year with a man who had barely glanced at me since that night we played darts together. I made up my mind to ask Lanie if my reputation really needed this much help or if she, as usual, was overreacting. Just as soon as Roy and Keeley left, I decided. Surely, with the numbers my upcoming tour sales was doing, along with the amount of people already signed up for the fundraiser’s livestream, and with all this social media attention, could dating a former soccer star turned grumpy coach really help that much?

“Oi, sunshine, your place or mine?”

Sunshine. Roy’s gruff use of the name he’d mumbled during our picnic had me snapping back to attention, out of my planned objections to my publicist. I stared at Roy blankly, trying to imagine what in the hell I’d missed that had him prompting what I thought he might be prompting- especially in front of his ex-girlfriend.

“She was zoning out,” Lanie quickly explained as she threw an M&M at me, her usual way of bringing me back to attention. “We want you two to have a sleepover,” she said loudly, as if she was repeating herself- which she probably was. “Something simple and domestic. Something you can post on your socials so continue this little soft launch. Something to help make things believable.”

Roy nodded. “Keeley says just being seen in public isn’t enough to make it seem real. We’ve got to really sell this shit.” He scowled at me. “So, your place or mine?”

Okay, so that made a lot more sense than what I’d feared he was asking me. “My place,” I said, clearing my throat. “You can come over to my place.”

Roy let out a low growl as he pulled up to the front gate of the address on his phone. He quickly punched in the gate code she’d sent him, relieved he didn’t have to call her to let him in, and drove up the short driveway.

Her house wasn’t what he’d imagined; with the money he- and the rest of the world- knew she was worth, Roy’d figured she lived in a fucking castle or some modern monstrosity. Instead, he walked in the moonlight to the door of a sweet two-story house, blinking as he read the doormat that declared “There’s no place like home”. He heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and sharply knocked on the door, sucking his breath between his teeth. Another step in this weird, weird fucking situation he found himself in.

When the door opened, Roy instinctively took a step back, forcing himself to look her in the eye. She nodded curtly to him, gesturing for him to enter the house. “Kent,” was her simple greeting.

He returned the curt reception with a grunt of his own and followed her inside and into her sitting room, marveling at how the house did not match his expectations. He’d figured it would be something like Keeley’s place, all bright and pink and stylish with fluffy pillows everywhere. But everything was simple and cozy, and there were a lot more photos than he expected. Her family, he assumed, as his eyes lingered on a photo of her with a couple of pre-teen kids. In one corner was a piano, one he figured she used a lot, and one wall was completely covered with a bookshelf, which housed a large and clearly well-used library. It reminded Roy a bit of his own place if he was being honest. Simple, homey, and probably a refuge from a life lived in the public eye.

Before he could ask about the framed drawing that was clearly done by a child around Pheobe’s age, something brushed against Roy’s leg. “What the fuck?” he bellowed, looking down to see a cat staring back up at him.

“That’s Sydney,” his host explained, picking up the animal. “Syd, say hi to Roy.” She kissed the top of the cat’s head. “Apparently we need to get used to him,” she stage-whispered into the cat’s fur.

Roy snorted as he focused his gaze on the cat. He could almost appreciate the sarcasm in her voice- almost. Instead, he gestured to his duffel bag. “Where can I set this down? Are you sticking me in the backyard, or do I have to sleep in my car?”

With something resembling a smirk on her lips, she set the cat down and once again beckoned for Roy to follow her. “I’ve got a guest room,” she assured him as she led him down the hall. She let Roy enter the room alone, choosing to linger in the hallway and watch him drop his bag to the floor. She cleared her throat as the cat- Sydney- caught up with them. “I ordered a pizza,” she mumbled, shifting her weight. “We could, I don’t fucking know, watch a movie or something until, well...”

Right. Fucking sleepover. “Yeah, sounds fine,” Roy muttered, staring at the cat. He’d probably spend most of his night looking at the animal, he realized. “I’m just gonna… throw on some fucking sweats. If that’s alright.”

She nodded, her cool demeanor reappearing. “Do your thing,” she said airily. “Let me know if you need anything.” After giving Roy a firm, businesslike nod, she was gone.

With a shake of his head, Roy quickly threw on some sweats and a t-shirt, trying not to put too much thought into what the evening ahead held. Was this really necessary? Did the other fake couples Keeley knew- which she assured him was quite a few- have to go to such lengths? Knowing Keeley, she was probably just trying to push Roy’s buttons, see how far she could take this shit before Roy snapped.

But again, he was trying to prove to her that he was willing to go above and beyond for her. Anything for Keeley, he reminded himself as he trudged back into the sitting room.

He plopped himself down on the couch, where Sydney the Cat was already perched and watching Roy with narrowed cat eyes. Jamie had once compared Roy to a cat during a team dinner, he remembered. Not very social, easy to annoy, but incredibly loyal and affectionate once they decided to let someone in. Keeley had found the comparison hilarious and proceeded to call Roy “Fluffy” for the rest of the night. He chuckled to himself at the memory; he should send Keeley a picture of Sydney and let her know he remembered the joke. He always remembered Keeley’s jokes.

As he reached for his mobile, a voice came from the direction of what he assumed was the kitchen. “You eat pepperoni, right? I forgot to ask.”

The most glamorous popstar in the world strolled back into the sitting room holding a cardboard box in her hands with two bottles of beer balanced on top. Instead of her usual dresses or fashionable outfits Roy and the rest of the world was used to seeing her in, she wore a particularly tiny pair of sleep shorts and a Greyhounds sweatshirt- the one Roy had seen her wear to their matches lately.

Roy wasn’t blind. He knew she was a stunning woman, whether she was on an album cover or, apparently, in her pyjamas. And if he’d bothered to give the matter even two seconds of thought, he would’ve noted that he rather liked her figure, especially when she looked so comfortable and domestic. But Roy couldn’t think about that. Not when he heard Keeley’s name come out of her mouth.

“Keeley said to make sure we both post on our socials,” she was saying, either missing or ignoring the way Roy’s eyes lingered for a moment too long on her bare legs. “Why I couldn’t just send you something to post is beyond me.” She set the pizza down on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch, a respectable distance from Roy’s spot. “Like, is you coming over really, truly necessary?”

Roy snorted and made himself busy with a beer. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted. “But Keeley’s always got a method to her fucking madness. You learn to just fucking go with it.” Deciding he needed to look at something that wasn’t the way she was stretching out comfortably on her couch, Roy stood abruptly and meandered over to her bookshelf. “You read a lot?” he said, scanning her collection more closely now.

“When I can,” came her breezy answer. “I’d love to say I’ve read everything on that shelf, but that’s mostly a collection of books I want to read.”

“Maybe we can do more reading dates.” Roy didn’t know what the fuck made him say that; it just slipped out as he stared at a particularly worn copy of The Bell Jar. When he glanced over his shoulder, he was surprised to see a smile on her face.

She shrugged and sipped her own beer. “Sure, Kent. Sounds good.”

Ignoring whatever feeling was forming in his chest, Roy returned to the shelf, recognizing some names and finding himself curious about others. Finally, he spotted a stack of games on the bottom shelf. He noted that there were about four versions of the same game. “You like Scrabble?” he blurted out, desperate to put distance between himself and his picnic suggestion.

“Love it,” she laughed. “When my parents came to the States from Mexico, they were each pretty young and worked really hard to learn English. They wanted to make sure all of their kids were fluent in English, so in our house we were always reading and playing games like Scrabble.” Her smile became a smirk. “My youngest brother refuses to play with me anymore because I kind of win a lot.”

The competitive streak that made Roy a football legend started to bubble up in his chest. “That so?” He picked up one of the boxes and brought it over to the coffee table. “Let’s see, then.”

“You can’t put that word!” I cackled, throwing my head back when I saw the word Roy was putting on the board.

Roy smirked and put the ‘C’ down with finality. “I absolutely fucking can. And I did so…” He shrugged. “Gimme my points, sunshine.”

After updating Roy’s score, I snapped a photo of the board. “That’s going on Instagram,” I warned him with a smirk. I quickly shared the picture and put my phone down, trusting that Lanie would text me later about the post blowing up.

We finished one game, then another, and started a third. We didn’t talk much, but it didn’t feel as awkward as those first few dinners with the Greyhounds. Sydney laid close to Roy, clearly already used to him, and I couldn’t deny the warm feeling in my chest when I saw him absently stroke her fur between turns. Maybe we’ll be friends, I thought fondly as I put down the tiles for my latest turn. Real, actual friends.

“Calamitous?” Roy read, wrinkling his nose. “What the fuck is calamitous? Is that even a word?”

I smirked and sipped my beer. “It absolutely is!” I stood and strolled over to my bookshelf, returning with the Scrabble dictionary my sister had given me a couple years ago. “Look it up.”

After shooting me a suspicious look, Roy flipped through the book; his scowl told me he had indeed found calamitous.

“It’s a good word,” I said as I sat back down. “One of my favorites. I’ve just been waiting for the right time to put it in a song.”

His gaze turned thoughtful as he stared at his letter tiles. “You written anything lately?” Before I could answer, he opened his mouth again. “You said something about a song for your fundraiser thing. It’s a new one, right?”

I nodded, squirming a bit as I thought about the song, one I’d been pouring a lot of myself into. “Yeah. I always release a new song after the party.” My eyes fell so Sydney, curled up close to Roy. “Want to hear a bit?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

His almost silly answer was enough to get me to my feet and retrieving my guitar from the extra room I often worked in. When I came back, Roy sat up straight, his gaze trained on my guitar as I settled on the couch.

“It’s called ‘Nothing New’,” I explained as I began to strum my guitar. “Here’s the chorus.”

Lord, what will become of me

Once I've lost my novelty?

I've had too much to drink tonight

And I know it's sad, but this is what I think about

And I wake up in the middle of the night

It's like I can feel time moving

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?

And will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

When I finally looked at Roy, his mouth was agape, and he was blinking rapidly.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered. “That’s good. That’s really fucking good.” He shook his head. “Reminds me of that shit you said the other day, about Gatsby and funerals and all that.” He sighed, a heavy, sad sound, and his voice was almost impossible to hear. “Fucking reminds me of me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that; I vaguely knew the story of Roy’s injury, the one that ended his career, and Dani had said something about it taking a while for Roy to find his way back to Richmond after his retirement. But I didn’t think Roy was the kind of person who liked to talk about anything, let alone what was probably the worst time in his life. So instead, I watched him stare stonily at my silent guitar, not saying a word when he stood abruptly, something I was quickly getting used to seeing.

“I should fucking sleep,” he mumbled, taking care to grab a couple of empty bottles. “Gotta be out of here early for training. Thanks for the pizza. And the beer.” He nodded to my guitar. “And the song.” After nudging Sydney gently with his foot, Roy turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen; I didn’t move from my spot until I heard the guest room door shut with finality.

Roy sighed as he sat down in front of the assembled reporters, all waiting to pounce on him after a hard-earned Greyhound victory. As always, Keeley stood in the back of the room, an encouraging smile on her face, the kind of smile that always gave Roy the strength to tackle what was probably his least favorite part of the job.

He answered several questions about the match- probably one of their best of the season, if he was being honest with himself- before the topic he was dreading finally reared its head.

“Coach Kent,” some wanker from a publication Roy couldn’t be bothered to remember called out, “care to say anything about the rumors concerning your latest fling?”

Instinctively, Roy bared his teeth and squared his shoulders before leaning forward, ready to growl out, “No.” However, a raised eyebrow from Keeley had him taking a deep breath; she’d trained him for this, he reminded himself. He knew what he was supposed to say. “We’re just… spending time together,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “It’s been… nice, getting to know each other.” When he looked at Keeley, she was giving him a big thumbs up; it was enough to have him continue. “She’s different than I expected,” he added, nodding more to himself than anyone else.

“How’d you two meet?”

He coughed into his hand; he knew how to answer this, too. “She’s good friends with Dani Rojas,” he explained, wondering if it sounded as rehearsed as it felt. “So, she came to a match and then came out with the team afterwards. We danced a little, and then she gave me her phone number.” Again, Keeley smiled encouragingly. “It’s been kind of fucking cool, having her at our matches. She’s really embraced the Richmond way.” That last bit was something Keeley had come up with; normally, Roy would think it sounded incredibly lame and positively cheesy. But, since Keeley was the mastermind, he didn’t complain one bit.

Another reporter spoke up. “Will you be at her upcoming fundraiser? The karaoke party is legendary.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Roy answered with what he hoped was a good-natured smirk. “Get enough drinks in me, I might even fucking sing.” For a brief moment, the chuckles that filled the room reminded Roy of how this room sounded when Ted was there; he hadn’t realized he actually missed that sound.

“Have you heard her new song?” The voice was hopeful, as if Roy was about to give everyone a big scoop, let the sports reporters have something the gossip columnists would kill for.

For the first time since the press conference began, Roy’s smile was real. “I’ve heard a little,” he admitted. “And I won’t tell you a fucking thing, except that it’s fucking brilliant.”

Roy maneuvered around a few more questions- Would she be attending more Richmond matches? (“Hopefully.”) Would Roy be going to any of the shows during her upcoming tour. (“We’ll see.”) Who won their Scrabble tournament? (“No fucking comment.”)- before he was finally set free. He and Keeley reconvened in his office, making sure no one else was around before assessing how Roy’s first official acknowledgement of the “relationship” had gone.

“You did a great job,” Keeley assured him from her perch on the edge of his desk, a spot she’d taken countless times. “Might be the most charming I’ve ever seen you at a presser, Roy. Looks like she’s really rubbing off on you.” Her wink had Roy’s insides squirming. “Did you really hear the song already?”

“Yeah,” Roy mumbled, slouching in his seat. “She played some for me the other night, during our sleepover.” He surprised even himself by not rolling his eyes at the word sleepover. “It’s fucking sad,” he continued, completely unprompted. “But really beautiful. Nothing like the fluffy stuff you hear on the radio.”

Keeley gently tossed a stray paperclip at Roy. “Oi, I like her fluffy stuff! And so does Phoebe, I might add.” Her smile widened. “Your niece wants to know when you’re introducing her to your girlfriend, by the way. It’s all she talked about at our last Pheebs and Keels Day.”

Roy shook his head. “Oh no,” he scoffed, folding his arms. “Not fucking happening. Last thing I need is for her to get attached. Look what happened with-”

Fuck.

The smile disappeared from Keeley’s face. “Right,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, might not be the best idea, eh?” After a moment, she perked up again, reigniting the energy in the room. “Have you two kissed yet?”

“What the fuck Keeley?” Roy hissed, looking around the obviously empty office; she’d sure recovered quickly from the awkward moment he’d caused.

She shrugged, clearly unfazed. “You’re officially together and are starting to go out in public as a couple. It’ll look funny if you don’t start being affectionate soon. I figured maybe you two’d gotten it out of the way already, so your first kiss isn’t in front of the cameras."

Shit. Roy hadn’t even started to think about how they’d act now that things were “official”. Had she?

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” Roy mumbled, wondering why he was blushing so furiously. “I’m a forty-year-old man, Keeley. I know how to kiss a woman.”

“Yeah, but she’s not just any woman,” Keeley pointed out as she stood. “Just something to think about.” She paused, studying Roy’s face carefully. “You really did do a good job in there, Roy. I almost believed you for a second, smiling and blushing as you gushed about that gorgeous girl.” Her smile returned, completely full of mischief. “Anything you want to share?”

Roy narrowed his eyes at his ex and threw the paper clip she’d tossed at him earlier. “Fuck off, Keeley,” was all he managed before the giggling blonde strutted out of the office. He looked down at his phone to check where the guys would be going after the match; after all, he was expected to be there with-

“Hey there!”

Roy looked up at the sound of Keeley’s cheery voice. His “girlfriend” came into view, smiling tightly at Keeley as they squeezed by each other through the doorway. The popstar saluted as she entered the office.

“Hey, Kent,” she hummed, pausing by the door and leaning against the frame. “I was thinking, want to ride to the restaurant together?”

He heard what she said. He knew he had. But the only thing he could focus on was her mouth, the same mouth that had left lipstick marks on his cheek and had formed a smile when she won two Scrabble games in a row. The same mouth he’d have to kiss soon. He’d kissed plenty of women; hell, he’d more than kissed plenty of women. And those were kisses he’d actually meant.

So why the fuck did his palms feel sweaty at the thought of fake-kissing this woman?

“Kent? Kent?”

Oh fucking hell, she’d caught him staring.

Roy cleared his throat and stood up, pocketing his mobile. “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as they walked out of the office. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fucking fine.” Roy’s hand balled into a fist at his side as he fought the urge to clear his throat again.

“Okay then.” They walked silently down the hall, looking nothing at all like a couple in love. Finally, she bumped him with her shoulder. “Saw your press conference,” she said, her voice light and teasing.

Roy nodded, wondering if his face looked as warm as it felt. “What’d you think?”

When he glanced at her, she was staring straight ahead- and smiling. “You told them you liked the song.” Her voice could only be described as pleased.

“Well, yeah,” Roy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s the truth. It’s… it’s really fucking good. I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Finally, she looked at him, her face serious now. “Hey, there’s some reporters hanging around outside. D’you think we should hold hands or something?”

Roy’s eyes flickered down to her outstretched hand before returning to her face; she gazed at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for his answer.

“Probably a good idea,” he murmured. With that, he took her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze as they walked out of the Dog Track.

He kept her hand in his as they walked through the parking lot; while his eyes stayed trained on his giant black car, she smiled sweetly at the couple of reporters who called their names and even offered a small wave in their direction. Roy held her door open and helped her climb inside, closing the door once she was settled. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he resisted the urge to grab her hand; old habit from dating Keeley, he told himself.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why his hand felt so cold without her fingers intertwined with his.

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 7 months

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Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #night hunter

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avastrasposts · 1 year

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The Pilot and his girl - ch. 2

So, I have vague plans for this fic now but the first two chapters are just dabbles, trying to find a way to write a reader insert and to write Frankie Morales. I'll have to think of a good title for the fic as I get the story together, for now it's just a bunch of scribbled ideas in a notebook. I'll update and give more of a summery once it's taken shape in my head I guess? Until then, I hope you enjoy a second date with Frankie and some fluffy flirting with our sweet soft boy.

Edit: making this easier to navigate- Chapter 3

Waking up late the next morning you catch up on the gossip from last night in the bachelorette party chat thread. It’s filling up with groans and promises to never drink again as your friends wake up across the city. You’re feeling fine, you’d only had a couple of cocktails last night, and now you’re poking fun at your friends while Lizzy curses at you for letting her do too many tequila shots.

Steve’s future wife: “Seriously, you should’ve stopped me, you were supposed to be my guardian last night!”

“I stopped you from ordering Long Island Teas for the entire club at 1am, your head and your credit card should be very grateful, Lizzy!”

Steve’s future wife: “My head doesn’t feel very grateful right now…”

Your phone suddenly pings with a new message and as you tap out of the party chat you see Frankie’s name on your screen. You can’t help but feel a little jolt of excitement as you pull up his message.

“morning. i was wondering if youd maybe like to get some coffee today, seeing as i didnt get a chance to buy you a drink last night?”

Your mouth pulls up in an inadvertent smile as you see the text, you’d been hoping he’d get in touch soon.

“Morning, yes I’d like that, I definitely need coffee this morning!

You hit send but instantly regret it, maybe that message sounded like you only wanted coffee and not that you were happy to see him again? You quickly type out a new message.

“Sorry, I hit send too fast… I meant to say that I definitely need coffee. But I'd also like to get some with you.”

The second you hit send you see the innuendo and bite your lip, fuck!

…

Frankie can’t help but chuckle as he sees her message come through. He knows she means coffee but he sees her typing away as the three dots move on his screen and guesses she’s trying to back track from the “get some” innuendo. He waits while she types, still smiling to himself. He’d been nervous about asking her out for coffee so soon but he wanted to give her a chance to get to know him a bit before he asked her out for dinner, less pressure for both of them he figured. When her instant yes came back he’d felt heat flash through his body, he really wanted to see her again and she seemed to feel the same way.

“Shit, ignore that last message completely, I mean, yes, I’d really like to get some coffee with you this morning, Frankie.”

Frankie chuckled again and typed his reply.

“no pun intended then?”

“Shut up :)”

And then;

“Where do you want to meet, and when? I’m free the whole day. My only plan was to recover from last night.”

Frankie suggests a coffee shop in a part of the city close to downtown. The area is good for weekends and has lots of places to hang out under the trees that line the river that runs through the neighbourhood. She knows the place and agrees to meet there in an hour and Frankie gets in the shower to get ready. For all the flack Pope had given him last night about making him pay up the one hundred dollar bet he’d also seen that Frankie was really into this girl. He’d spent the ride home telling his friend to not worry, that he was a great guy and that this girl would like Francisco Morales if he only gave her a chance.

“I know it’s a tired old line but just be yourself, Fish. You’re charming when you want to be and good looking, you know the girls always line up for you when we’re out, even with that damn cap shoved down your forehead. She’s into you so just relax and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman.” Pope had slapped his friend on the shoulder before getting out of the truck and now Frankie tries to force himself to feel some of Pope’s confidence as he scrubs himself down in the shower. “Just relax, he tells himself as his stomach flips at the thought of the way her lips had felt against his cheek last night. “You’ve got this, Frankie, you got her number, she replied, she wants to see you again, just take it from there.”

…

The second you’ve confirmed to Frankie that you’ll meet in an hour you rush out of bed and into the shower. Butterflies are back in your stomach and you’re kinda surprised at the effect this guy is having on your nerves. It’s not like you to get so nervous about a guy you’ve barely spoken to, even if he was cute and broad as a barn door. Something about Frankie’s shy approach, the way his face seemed to soften when he smiled, made your heart melt a bit. But there was definitely something more confident lurking under the surface, you could tell from his teasing replies to your messages. It gave you the feeling that he was probably hiding a more assertive manner under his initial shyness and you couldn’t wait to make him comfortable enough to bring it out. You were looking forward to getting to know him better and so far it didn’t seem like you’d regret your snap decision to give him your number last night.

The coffee shop Frankie suggested is right on the river and as you’re walking towards it Frankie texts saying that he’s got a table out back next to the water’s edge. You make your way through the building and see him sitting at a table looking snug in a dark green hoodie, the cap still firmly on his head. His unruly curls are poking out around his neck but it looks as if he’s made the effort to contain the ones around his ears, they are tucked in under the edge of the cap, still threatening to escape. He’s sitting relaxed, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed, looking out over the river where two crews are rowing past. As you get closer he seems to spot you from the corner of his eye and his gaze finds yours, his handsome face splitting into a warm smile as he gets up.

“Hey, good to see you,” he says, stepping forward to drop a kiss on your cheek before stepping back, still smiling. Your butterflies make themselves known as his warm smell washes over you, that same warm cotton smell from the night before, mint from his toothpaste and something that has to be his body wash. His lips are soft as they brush against your skin, a sharp contrast to the light scratch of his beard. He seems to pause for a second against your cheek as his hand lands on your waist and when he pulls back you feel the cool tip of his nose on your skin.

“Hi, good to see you too,” you smile as you try to squash the butterflies, letting him pull out the chair opposite his at the small table as you sit down. He gets back to his own seat and leans on his forearms on the table, making it shift slightly as it takes his weight. You bite the inside of your lip as you suddenly feel very shy at the way his eyes are focused on yours and he seems to notice the movement, his eyes dropping to your lips as you worry at them.

“You’re gonna draw blood, hermosa,” he says with a soft voice and you feel his thumb smooth over your bottom lip, making you let go of it. His gesture is gentle and calming and as he drops his hand back to the table you find yourself wishing he’d continued, your face leaning into his hand. His crooked smile makes your own creep back as he captures your fingertips between his own on the table, gently tugging them towards him, as he leans closer, dropping his eyes to your lips again. Your breath catches in the back of your throat as you watch the pink tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as he moves closer.

“Morning, early birds! Let me guess, some coffee to start off with to wake you up, huh? And then let me take you through our specials today. Ya’ll are gonna love our seasonal pancakes!”

You all but groan when the server’s chipper voice cuts through the moment you’re having, Frankie immediately pulls away from you and your fingers slips through his as he clenches his jaw before picking up the menu card on his side of the table. The server continues to rattle through the specials and you scan the menu in front of you.

“Do you wanna start with coffee, maybe?” Frankie asks, ignoring the server’s chatter.

“Yes, please, that sounds good. I don’t know what I wanna eat yet,” you say and flip the menu over to look at the huge drinks menu on the back.

“Black coffee for me, thanks,” Frankie says to the server who has finally covered all the specials. “Know what you want, hermosa?”

“A double shot cappuccino, thanks,” you reply, looking up at the server who takes your orders and walks away with a nod.

“Rude,” Frankie smirks as he leans forward again, capturing your fingers in his, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His shyness from last night seems to have disappeared in light of your own and his eyes are warm and soft as he gently tugs you forward, his gaze flicking down to your lips and up to your eyes. You feel heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as he gets close enough for you to smell his toothpaste again, his lips pulling up in a small smile as he gently strokes his thumb over your bottom lip.

The sharp signal of a phone suddenly cuts through the air and Frankie actually drops his head on to his hands and curses in Spanish under his breath before he leans back and pulls the offending item out of his back pocket.

“I’m about to toss this damn thing in the river,” he grumbles, throwing you an apologetic look. But looking at the screen his eyebrows pull together in a deep frown.

“I’m really sorry, I have to take this, it’s work but they usually don’t call on a Sunday.”

Frankie gets up and steps away from the table. You watch him retreat, realising you don’t actually know what he does for a living. You go back to studying the menu and after a couple of minutes Frankie sits down again, a disappointed look on his face.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go,” he says, his hand shooting up to the back of his neck in that same gesture from last night, his face looking crestfallen and apologetic. “There’s an emergency at work that I have to deal with, the guy who’s on call this weekend is stuck in traffic behind some big pile up and can’t get to the airfield.”

“Oh,” you say, disappointment washing over you, feeling your stomach drop, and it must’ve shown on your face because Frankie’s hand shoots forward and grabs yours.

“Please don’t think I’m trying to get out of our date, I was really looking forward to hanging out with you but,” Frankie’s fingers are rubbing across the back of your hand, his eyebrows knitted together over his worried eyes, “it’s a medical transportation, some transplant organ that I have to pick up from Mount Hope and fly over to General, it can’t wait.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know you’re a pilot. You fly airplanes?”

“Helicopters,” he replies proudly as he pulls you up from the chair, still holding on to your hand. “I did it in the army for years but since I left I’ve been working at a local airfield, doing different transportation assignments.” His large hand feels like it dwarfs your own with how easily it fits inside the warmth of his and you hold on to him as he walks you across the patio into the coffee shop. “Maybe we can get the coffee to go?” he suggests, “And some pastries too? They do really good little hand pie things here.” He smiles down at you and you feel a bit better about the sudden end to your date, at least it doesn’t seem like he’s running off just to get away from you.

When you get to the counter Frankie asks for your coffee order to go and pays for a couple of hand pies while you pick them out, cherry for you and Frankie immediately goes for the same one when you point it out. While he’s waiting for the pies he suddenly looks over at you with a quizzical look.

“What?” you ask, his face suddenly mischievous.

“Are you afraid of heights, hermosa?”

“No, but I’ve never been in a helicopter if that’s what you're asking?”

“Do you wanna go up in one today?” Frankie grins, his eyes definitely looking like he’s about to get you into trouble.

“Can you do that? I mean, are you allowed to take someone up just like that?”

“You’re my new co-pilot in training now,” he beams, delighted with his idea. “I’ve got to fly from the airfield to Mount Hope, pick up the box, fly over to General and then back to the airfield. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours if you’re up for it?” His smile is infectious and the excitement in his body is palpable as you feel his hand squeeze yours, you can’t refuse him.

“Sure, I guess I’ll sign up to be your co-pilot, Frankie,” you laugh and he pulls you in under his arm, dropping a kiss on the top of your head as he grabs the bags with coffee and pastries. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

Frankie guides you out of the coffee shop and shows you to his truck parked across the street, taking you round to the passenger side door and opening it for you like a gentleman. It makes you smile at him as he gives you a hand up the high step and he grins back at you, making your heart flutter at the sight of his eyes lighting up. In the short time you’ve spent with Frankie, his eyes have definitely become your favourite feature, the dark brown irises changing as his smile comes and goes on his face. When he smiles they seem to soften, his eyebrows coming together as the corners crinkle, when he’s nervous or awkward he drops his head and looks up at you from underneath the peak of his cap and his eyes mirror the worry in his head, now they’re really sparkling with mischief and glee as he all but bounces around the front of the truck before pulling himself up into the driver’s seat.

“Your coffee, hermosa,” he passes the take away mug to you before placing his own in the cup holder. The truck has been sitting in the warm sun and Frankie pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it in the back before starting up the truck. The white t-shirt underneath does nothing to hide the sheer width of his shoulders as he turns in his seat, hooking his arm round the back of the bench seat as he manoeuvres the truck out from the tight spot at the curb. You try not to stare at how his chest flexes as he twists half way around in the seat, his muscular arm resting right next to your head. You follow the line of it up underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt, it’s ridden up high on his deltoid and you can see the dark smudge of his armpit as he grunts, twisting around again.

“Admiring the view, cariño?” Frankie chuckles as he catches your eyes on his chest and you feel heat rushing to your face, quickly slapping your hand over your eyes, stifling a giggle. Frankie laughs loudly and pulls your hand from your face, tugging you closer to him across the wide seat.

“Come here, hermosa, you can look as much as you want,” his chest is rumbling as he laughs but he pulls your hand up to his mouth and presses his lips to the back of it before setting it down on his leg, moving his hand to the gear shift and pulling out into traffic.

“So, never been in a helicopter?” he asks, glancing over at you. “Ever been up in a smaller plane?”

“No, nothing like that, only regular commercial flights. Is it very different?” You’re slightly nervous about the idea but Frankie’s excitement is infectious, this is clearly something he loves.

“It’s very different from a commercial flight but I’ll make sure to go easy on you, no loops or flying upside down.” He moves his hand on top of yours as the traffic starts to flow smoothly, lying warm and solid over your own.

“I’ve never seen a helicopter fly upside down, you can do that?” Your limited knowledge of helicopters makes Frankie break out in a big grin.

“Only on special occasions,” he glances away from the road for a second and gives you a wink and you roll your eyes as you catch on.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, you’re a regular comedian,” you pull out your hand from under his and punch him lightly on his upper arm, but you can’t help but smile as he chuckles and pretends to duck his head to get away from you.

“A few helicopters can fly upside down but not this one, unfortunately, I’d like to see your face when I do it,” he laughs again and takes your hand back, placing it on his thigh but holding on to it this time. “Really, don’t worry, hermosa, I’ll take us up and down and fly straight as an arrow, no fooling around.”

“At least not in the air.” It slips out before you know it and Frankie immediately snorts loudly and you feel laughter bubbling inside you as he breaks out in a wide grin, shooting you a mischievous look.

“At least not in the air,” he agrees, looking at the road again but his eyes are wrinkling at the corners as he smiles. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not touching any of my buttons.”

“Ok, that one was too obvious,” you giggle as he tries to contain the way he’s chuckling at his own joke.

“Yeah, I know but I couldn’t help it,” he smiles, tugging at his cap and looking over at you as the truck comes to a stop at a red light. His brown eyes are warm and happy, the sunlight shines into the car from behind him and his unruly hair has escaped from under his cap and is curling around his ears again. You hesitate for a second but the urge is too strong, you reach up and graze across them with your fingertips, feeling the soft strands brush against your skin. Frankie inhales deeply and the smile slips from his face, replaced by something more urgent. He leans in and the rich aroma of the coffee he’s been drinking washes over you.

“I really want to kiss you,” he mumbles close to your lips, “but not in my truck at a red light, so please, hermosa, do that again when I won’t crash any vehicles we might be in.” He stays close for a beat longer and drops his gaze to your lips before pulling back with a small groan just as the light changes to green.

You feel like the atmosphere in the truck is about to reach a dangerous boiling point so you try to calm yourself down by sipping on your coffee and reaching for one of the pies, handing the other to Frankie.

“I feel like I'm tempting fate by eating a cherry pie with one hand while wearing a white t-shirt.” he says as his first bite drips cherry juice down his fingers. “This is so good though,” he catches the trickle down his pinky with his tongue which makes you swallow and quickly look away.

He’s right, the pie is very tasty and you both fall silent as you try to capture every flaky crumb that falls from the pie as you bite into it. The filling is sweet and tart and gone far too soon.

“Fuck, I wish we’d bought three each,” you moan as you swallow down the last bite. Frankie is still juggling the last of his as he turns the truck on to a smaller road on the outskirts of the city, steering with one hand and keeping the pie away from his, miraculously still white, t-shirt.

“Here, have the rest of mine,” he offers, holding out his hand to you.

“You sure? You’re not one of those people who offer their food and then get offended when I eat half your fries?”

“No, I’m smarter than that, I always order a large fries when I’m eating with a woman,” he grins. “Just take my pie, I’m gonna need both hands here anyway.”

“I’m gonna test you on that,” you say as you gratefully take the last bit of pie from him, “this damn pie really is too good.”

“You wanna share my fries, hermosa?” Frankie smirks, the truck now rumbling down a long straight road, air hangars in the distance. “That must mean I’m getting a second date out of this?”

“That still depends on how this helicopter ride goes, you make me airsick I might change my mind.” You scrunch up your nose as the hangers come closer. “I’m actually kinda nervous, I don’t wanna fuck up your assignment by throwing up in your helicopter.”

“Do you usually get carsick or seasick?” Frankie asks.

“No, not usually.”

“Then you’ll be fine, that kind of sickness has got something to do with the balance system in your ear so if you don’t get seasick you’ll be fine in a chopper.” He reaches over with his clean hand and squeezes your thigh, giving you a warm smile, “Don’t worry, hermosa, I’ll take care of you.”

Frankie pulls up next to the hangar and parks the truck, grabbing his hoodie from the back, quickly coming round to the passenger side as he tugs it over his head and gives you a hand down.

“This is the place,” he says and waves in the general direction of the open hangar doors. “I’ll just get the paperwork from my boss and then we’ll be off.”

With a hand on the small of your back he guides you towards the hangar where you’re both greeted by an older man who introduces himself as Denny, Frankie’s boss, as Frankie explains that he’s taking you with him on the assignment.

“Sorry to commandeer your date, miss,” he says with a friendly smile as he hands Frankie the paperwork and a set of keys. “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy the trip, Frankie is one of my best pilots.”

You look over at Frankie who’s looking pleased about the praise as he flips through the paperwork Denny handed him.

“Thanks, boss, I’ll remember those words next time we talk about my pay raise,” he grins and closes the folder. “Come on, cariño, let me show you the chopper and get you strapped in.”

Frankie’s warm hand rests on the small of your back again as he takes you towards one of the helicopters parked outside the hangar. He’s rattling off facts about it and the technical specifications, you’re trying to keep up but most of it means nothing to you, and he soon breaks into a chuckle as he sees your confused face trying to comprehend what he’s talking about.

“Don’t worry about it, sorry, I get a bit carried away, even the guys in the army would tell me to shut the fuck up when I got too technical.”

“It’s really cool that you fly helicopters for a living but I genuinely have no idea what any of that means,” you smile at him, “I’m just happy you’re happy to let me tag along today.”

“Of course I am! It was my idea after all, I’d feel too shitty about ditching you before I even got you a coffee.” You’re at the chopper and Frankie unlocks it, sliding open the door and helping you up into the passenger seat. He picks up the seat belt but pauses, looking at your torso.

“You’re gonna be cold in just that t-shirt and jacket,” he says. You’re wearing the same jean jacket you had on last night with a fresh t-shirt underneath and as you watch he tugs his hoodie off again. “Put this on, I’ll run over and grab something from the locker room.”

You take the hoodie from his outstretched hand, “Thanks, Frankie,” and he gives you a quick smile before turning and jogging back towards the hangar.

You slip his dark green hoodie over your head after shedding the jacket and tossing it on to one of the seats in the back. The smell of him overwhelms you the second you pull it over your face, still warm from his body. It smells clean, like fresh detergent and something woody and spicy that might be his body wash. You stop for a second to inhale the scent that seems to be inherently his before pulling it all the way down. The hoodie is far too big for you and you have to roll up the sleeves just to have your fingertips showing.

You’re wiggling into the seat belt, hooking your arms through on either side, when Frankie comes jogging back with black hoodie on. This one is decidedly more well worn, the fabric fraying at the edges around his arms where he’s pushed it up to his elbows. Down by his hip you can see the white of his t-shirt shining through a hole that looks like something burnt through the hoodie.

“Comfy?” he asks as he steps up into the cockpit on your side, checking your seat belt and clipping you in securely.

“Yeah, very. Thanks for lending it to me,” you smile up at him. He’s very close suddenly, as he bends down and pulls on the straps, you feel the tension locking your body into the seat. Frankie looks down at you as his hands still on your waist, you’re holding your breath, his eyes seem to be fixing you in place as much as the seat belt and you hear him slowly exhale, almost in a shudder.

“Remember what I said about not crashing any vehicles?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low whisper, dark and rich. You nod slowly, the hoodie suddenly feels much too warm. “Please remind me about that when we come back here.” He stays locked on you for a few more breaths until he finally pulls away, caressing your waist as he lets his hands slip over you.

As he steps down and walks around the chopper to the pilot’s side you slowly exhale, trying to calm your racing pulse. That’s four times you’ve been close to kissing and the tension is building inside you to the point where you just want to grab his face and pull him down to your lips. Frankie’s presence is both comforting and rousing, his easy smiles make you feel happy and warm, but the tension that builds when he comes close is exhilarating and almost paralysing.

Frankie swings into the pilot’s seat and straps himself in, starts going through the pre-flight checks and hands you a pair of headphones to put on. He slips a pair over his own ears and soon you hear his voice coming through them as the helicopter's engine roars to life. It’s loud, much louder than you expected, and you’re glad for the headphones protecting your ears.

“You ready?” Frankie’s voice comes through the headphones with a slight distortion and you give him a nod and a thumbs up and he smiles back. His face shifts into a more serious look as he looks over the instrument panel and readies everything for flight before he pulls back on the stick in front of him and the helicopter slowly rises off the ground. You feel your stomach plummet as the tarmac drops away beneath you, the cockpit of the chopper seeming impossibly small. It makes you feel like you’re sitting on a tiny chair with nothing but sky around you as Frankie makes the helicopter climb higher. You focus on a spot on the floor between your feet to get your nerves under control and only throw quick glimpses out the window as the surrounding buildings fall away and are replaced by blue sky.

“Hey, you ok?” Frankie’s voice comes through your headphones as his warm hand lands on your leg and you glance up at him. His eyebrows have knitted together and he’s got that sweet worried look again.

“Yeah, I’m good, I think I just got a bit of vertigo as we took off,” you huff, drawing a deep, slightly shaky breath.

“We won’t be climbing anymore, I’m just gonna keep us straight and steady to Mount Hope now. Just keep breathing, hermosa.” He rubs your leg a few times and smiles before he grabs the stick with both hands again. You watch him as he checks the instruments, hailing Mount Hope Hospital to let them know his ETA and then corrects the chopper’s course slightly with a small movement of his hand. He’s moving with an easy confidence that makes you relax, he looks so comfortable in the pilot’s seat, so sure in every move he makes, never hesitating as he checks the instruments and manoeuvres the helicopter. This is the most confident and assured you’ve seen him yet. You trust yourself to sit up a bit straighter and start looking around, carefully glancing outside and actually admiring the view.

“Feeling better?” You look over at Frankie as his voice comes through your headphones again, he’s smiling as you nod and smile back.

“Everything looks so different from up here, I can’t even pick out any landmarks,” you remark, looking out over the city again.

“That’s city hall over there,” Frankie points at a large domed building in the distance. “And there’s General Hospital where we’ll drop off the cargo. And there’s the river,” he points at the long watery snake that glints like silver as the sun hits it from above.

Frankie continues to point out landmarks to you as he pilots the chopper towards the first destination and pretty soon you feel comfortable enough to lean closer to the window and let your gaze drop down below the chopper. Your stomach clenches at first but then you get used to the view and start enjoying yourself and Frankie’s easy company. He seems so happy flying, so in his element, that it’s hard to not get affected by his good mood. The shyness from your first meeting last night is gone and when he looks over at you it’s with bright eyes and a big smile.

“I love that I’m the first one to show you all this,” he grins as you get braver and turn in your seat to get a better view out the window. “Your very first helicopter ride, it’s a big deal.”

“I see why you love it so much, it feels addicting, to be able to fly above everything like this.”

“Yeah, I always knew I wanted to be a helicopter pilot, used to watch the traffic reports on the news, just to get to see how the pilots flew, even when I was just a kid.” He chuckles at the memory.

“And then you did it in the army you said?”

“Yeah, I joined up with the intent to train as a helicopter pilot, I was in Delta Force for years before I left the army.” You see his face change into something darker as he seems to fold in on himself a little. “It wasn’t exactly the experience I thought it would be, it…it was maybe…it left me a bit..I don’t know…” he falters and you see the light go out in his eyes as looks down on his hands for a brief second.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, you don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to,” you regret bringing it up as you see how it changes his mood, but Frankie shakes his head, giving you a small crooked smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just…I wanna tell you about it but not now, it’s maybe something for a date much further in the future, if you still wanna have me around then.” He says the last thing with a look over at you that melts your heart, that soft smile that transforms his face.

“We’ll see,” you smile back at him, “if you stay true to your word about sharing your fries with me.”

He chuckles and takes your hand, giving it a quick kiss, before grabbing the stick again.

The radio crackles through your headphones and you hear someone from Mount Hope hail the chopper and Frankie responds, starting to prepare for the descent down onto the landing pad outside the hospital. It takes a few minutes and your stomach flips a few times as Frankie steadily brings the helicopter down towards the ground.

When you’re on the ground a hospital worker in scrubs and a jacket walks over to the helicopter holding onto what essentially looks like a big cooler with a red cross on it. Frankie quickly unbuckles himself and jumps out to slide the door to the back seat open. The middle aged woman with grey hair grabs his hand as she climbs into the back, giving you a quick nod, while Frankie checks that she’s safely strapped in and gives her a pair of headphones.

Soon you’re up in the air again, this ascent was much easier to handle, and Frankie turns the helicopter around and radios to General Hospital to let them know the ETA of the transport. With a stranger in the back of the chopper, the woman has the cooler on her lap the whole way, your conversation with Frankie is minimal. You keep looking out the window, trying to spot places you know, and at one point Frankie nudges your shoe with his boot and points down at a building ahead of the chopper. “The Outback Bar” is painted in large letters on the roof and he gives you a quick grin as you spot it and smile back at him.

This trip is longer but time still passes fast and soon Frankie is bringing the helicopter down towards the bigger hospital. This time the landing pad is on the roof of a tall high rise and Frankie’s eyebrows are knitted together in concentration as he parries the side winds and slowly makes the descent. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he gently shifts the stick and works the pedals to correct the position. You can’t help but wonder how different this must be from his experience in the army. You try to imagine doing this while at the same time being under threat of enemy fire, but you can’t even picture it.

When the helicopter touches down on the landing pad you barely feel it, just a slight sway. The lady in the back immediately unbuckles herself as Frankie gets out and slides open the door. You hear her yell a thank you to him over the roar of the rotor blades before walking with brisk pace towards the medical team waiting for her. Frankie swings himself back into the pilot’s seat and straps himself back in.

“That’s it, mission accomplished, back to the airfield for us.” he says through the headphones and gives you a bright smile before pulling back on the stick and making you rise into the air again.

“I feel bad,” Frankie suddenly says. “I just realised I never asked what you work with? I’ve just been going on about helicopters.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh, “My job is nowhere near as exciting as helicopters, if I took you to my office you’d fall asleep in a corner before long,” you smile back at him.

“I doubt it, I’d be stealing snacks in the break room, isn’t that what office work is all about?” he smirks back at you. “What kind of business do you work in?”

“I work in publishing, with academic books mainly.”

“Really?” Frankie says, his eyes widening as he looks over at you. “That’s pretty damn impressive though, sounds like a job you need to be really smart to do.”

“I don’t know about smart, often it feels like I mainly baby sit grumpy professors who don’t understand why their thirty year old dissertations can’t be printed unedited as a text book,” you sigh, “my people skills are very often tested to the max.”

“But still, you’ve got a college degree right?” he asks, as you nod he continues, “I went from high school to the army and then on to this. I know nothing about anything except flying choppers.”

“That’s still pretty impressive to me though,” you smile at him. “If we had one of those Deep Impact situations, you know, where they have to select the important people to save to keep the human race going? Book editors would not make that cut but I’m pretty sure pilots would be needed.”

Frankie chuckles, “I fucking loved that one, with Elijah Wood and Morgan Freeman, right? I liked that the meteor actually hit earth, and they showed the destruction and the panic, most movies build up to it but then disaster is avoided at the last second..”

“Yeah, I really liked that too, in a messed up kinda way,” you say, ”and how they showed how that kind of event brought out the worst in the human race.”

“What kind of movies are you into?” Frankie asks as he corrects the chopper and sets a course towards the airfield.

“Uuhm…most of them, I guess? I love any kind of historical drama, makes me feel like I have a time machine. And although I’m not crazy about superhero movies I love all Spider-Man movies, really looooove,” you emphasise the love, pulling out the o while Frankie chuckles.

“I didn’t take you for a Spider-Man girl but that’s good to know.”

“What about you, what are your favourites?” you ask him.

“I’m pretty predictable, I love action movies, and superhero movies,” he laughs, “and any good horror movie, especially at home with all the lights out, really scare the shit out of myself.”

“Oh no, I can’t handle horror movies, Frankie!” you protest. “I get so scared I can’t sleep after them. I saw Gremlins when I was like nine and it scarred me for life, I haven’t watched anything scary since I think.”

“You never watch horror movies?” Frankie asks, his eyebrows raised, looking shocked.

“No, never really, I avoid them if I can.”

“Not even classics like The Shining, Psycho, Halloween?” Frankie’s looking over at you, rattling off horror films you’ve heard of but would never dream of watching.

“No, nope, never ever, absolutely not,” you shake your head firmly, you know exactly where Frankie is going with this.

“I think I need to plan a movie night for our second date,” Frankie chuckles.

“That’s one sure fire way of not getting a second date, Frankie,” you warn, crossing your arms and pressing your lips together in a firm line, “absolutely not happening.”

Frankie giggles and leans over, tugging at your arm, trying to uncross it, “Come on, hermosa, I’ll protect you, keep you safe from all the monsters, I’ll let you hide behind me when you get scared.”

“Why would I even wanna get scared in the first place?” you protest, his giggles making you smile as he tugs your arm free and pulls it over towards his seat.

“Because then you can hide yourself in my arms and I can feel like the brave guy protecting you from the imaginary monsters,” Frankie smiles and does that thing where he pulls your hand to his lips for a kiss while his warm brown eyes stay locked on you.

You smile back at him, his lips are warm and soft against your skin, and you wish you were back on the ground already. “I’m happy with you just being the brave helicopter guy who’s great at keeping me calm during flying.”

“Yeah, really?” he smiles and you recognise the way his eyes shift to something more mischievous, “wanna try something scary up here?”

“Uhu, what do you have in mind, Frankie?” you ask cautiously, “no crashing any vehicles please.”

“Just hold on to your seat belt, like this,” he lets go of your hand and motions you to grab on to the straps just below your shoulders.

“Why, Frankie?” you ask nervously.

“Just hold on,” he grins and you grab hold of the straps, watching him intently. He hails the airfield on the radio and tells Denny you’re almost back but that he’s going to try out something before landing. “We’re just gonna have some fun up here,” he says to his boss while grinning over at you.

“Frankie….” you plead, but you can’t stop yourself from giggling too as the all clear comes through the radio from Denny.

“Alright, here we go,” Frankie grins and you suddenly feel your whole world tipping sideways and you all but scream as the chopper suddenly tilts, Frankie pulling hard right on the stick. After a few seconds he straightens up again, only to bank hard left as you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach drops as you feel gravity pull you down, only the seatbelt keeping you in your seat. Next to you Frankie is chuckling happily as he pulls the chopper back up horizontal again. You press your head back hard against your set, trying to catch your breath.

“You alright, hermosa?” Frankie’s voice comes through your headphones, you can hear his grin and you open your eyes and look over at him. “I fucking hate you, Francisco Morales,” you huff but you can’t hide your smile creeping up. The rush had been exhilarating and Frankie laughs at you. “Wanna do it again?” he asks and when you nod, he looks delighted, “knew you’d like it. Hang on then, cariño.”

As Frankie puts the chopper through a number of skilled manoeuvres, the world around you tips and tilts until your head is spinning, adrenaline flowing through your system. It’s like being on the world’s best roller coaster and you can’t help giggling and squealing as you’re running out of breath. Until suddenly, out of nowhere, the air sickness hits and you feel nausea crash over you.

“Frankie,” you cry out, “please stop, please stop.”

Frankie immediately brings the chopper up to hover steadily and leans over, one hand on the stick, the other on your shoulder. You breathe in and out of your nose and try to control the panic in your chest.

“Just breathe, hermosa, just look at the horizon and keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over your arm, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done so much, I’m so sorry, hermosa.” He keeps rubbing his palm up and down your arm and the warmth from his hand and his calm voice in your headphones brings your breathing under control and the nausea dissipates slowly. Eventually you can look away from the horizon and over at Frankie, he’s still leaning over as far as his seat belt will let him, his eyes worried and guilty looking under the cap.

“Feeling better?” he asks, moving his hand up from your arm to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the soft skin. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you air sick, cariño.”

“I’m feeling better now,” you give him a small smile, “I don’t know what happened. I was having fun and then it just hit me all of a sudden.”

“I think I went a bit overboard on the banking, I should’ve been more careful with you, I’m really sorry.” Frankie’s pained expression tugs at your heart and you reach up and put your hand over his on your cheek.

“It’s fine, Frankie, I really had fun, it was like being on the best roller coaster. I guess it just got a little bit too much suddenly.”

Frankie looks a little bit less guilty and gives you one of those warm, soft smiles that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

“I think I’ll get us down again now, get some solid ground under your feet, hermosa.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” you smile back at him, thankful for his calm way of getting your freak out under control. He leans back into his seat, reluctantly letting go of your cheek, and starts the descent.

As the helicopter smoothly descends towards the airfield tarmac you see Denny approach from the hangar. Shielding his eyes from the dust whipped up by the rotor blades he waits until Frankie safely puts the aircraft down and turns off the engine, the silence almost deafening after the constant roar in your years. Frankie gets himself out of the pilot’s seat before coming round the chopper to help you out, gently taking the headphones off your head and unclipping your seatbelt.

“Easy there,” he says, taking your hand and helping you to find your footing. Your legs are surprisingly jelly-like after being in the chopper, a bit like stepping off a boat when the ground still moves under you. “Don’t want you falling over, hermosa,” Frankie tucks his arm around your waist as Denny comes over.

“Thanks for handling that, Morales,” he says as Frankie hands over the paperwork and the keys to the chopper. “Head on out of here, I’ll finish up, go enjoy your date.” The last thing he says with a smile at you, still safely tucked in with Frankie’s arm around you.

“Thanks, boss, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he gives Denny a nod and guides you back towards the truck. You’re fine on your feet now but Frankie’s arm feels good around you, so you let your hand slip around his waist and with a little tug Frankie pulls you closer, you catch his smile as you glance up at him.

As you get back to the truck Frankie walks you over to the passenger side door but doesn’t open it. Instead he moves so that your back is against the side of the truck, with him standing close in front of you. You feel a shiver run through your body as you see the look in his eyes, his brown eyes almost black as he leans closer to you.

“Remember what I told you to do again, back when we were at the stop light?” he asks, his voice dropping low and dark.

“Yes,” you breath out, pulse racing so fast you can feel it in your throat.

You lift your hand and caress your fingers through the unruly dark brown curls poking out around his ear. Frankie inhales and briefly closes his eyes before opening them again as you let your hand slip down his neck, caressing the soft skin behind his ear. You stroke your thumb over his jaw, fitting your thumb against the bare patch.

Frankie steps in closer, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, slotting them around your face. The pink tip of his tongue pokes out, wetting his bottom lip briefly.

“Can I finally kiss you now?” he whispers as his eyes flick down to your lips before looking up at you again.

“Yes, Frankie, please,” you whisper back at him.

His lips are soft, warm, supple, as he gently presses them against yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks and his scent fills your nose. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer and he steps in eagerly, pushing you up against the warm metal of the truck. His tongue darts out and runs along your lips, making you open up and taste him willingly. He deepens the kiss, tilting his head to savour more of your mouth as you feel his tongue slide along your own. A small moan escapes you and in response Frankie slides a hand behind your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer.

You’re bunching up the sides of his black hoodie with how desperately you’re hanging on to him as he licks deeper into your mouth, the gentle kiss quickly turning into something a lot more eager. Frankie’s pressed up against you fully and as he shifts his stance you feel the ridgid thickness between his legs press up against your stomach. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you and heat pools at the apex of your thighs as Frankie moans into your mouth, shifting his weight again. With a groan he pulls away from your lips, both of you panting, out of breath.

Frankie drops his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, you can feel his chest rise and fall against yours.

“You drive me crazy, mi hermosa,” he whispers, “wanted to do that since I first saw you last night.” You smile up at him even though his eyes are still closed.

“Probably would’ve let you do it last night too, Frankie,”

“Should’ve asked Pope for a bigger bet,” he grins, opening his eyes and looking down at you. You smile and reach up for his lips, he meets you eagerly and you lose yourself in how soft he feels as lets his tongue slip into your mouth again.

Chapter 3

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #frankie morales fluff

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