#sigh it’s so unattainable it stresses me out

[orchidniins]

anything for arthur hill 😭😭 maybe with a musician partner? no pressure take your time!! <3

Heartstrings | Arthur Hill

Summary: Y/N is a musician on her first solo tour. All she wanted was her boyfriend to be there to support her, but conflicting schedules might make for a bittersweet reunion. Pairings: Arthur Hill x Musician! afab!Reader Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut Word Count: 6.8k A/N: Thanks anon for the request! There needs to be more on tumblr for our talented king!!! This fic took a very different turn than what I had intended it to have. I also had planned to have this done like 2 weeks ago, but then I got rejected from the grad program of my dreams and have just been down in the dumps about it for a while so I didn't have the motivation to write for a bit. But I'm back and feeling better now, so I'm going to start writing more regularly.

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Surrounded by the buzzing energy backstage, you stand in a dimly lit corridor. Staff scurry around, with headsets and clipboards, finalizing last-minute details, the hum of voices and hurried footsteps echoing off the walls. Amidst all the organized chaos, the only thing you can hear is the pounding of your heart and the muffled thump of the bass from the stage. As always, a flurry of excited nerves bubble in your stomach right before your cue.

You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm your nerves as your makeup artist puts the finishing touches on your makeup, ensuring it's flawless and accentuates your features perfectly. Simultaneously, your stylist adjusts your top from behind, the outfit meticulously chosen to embody the concept of your album.

Tonight marked the final show of your first solo tour, a moment that once felt like an unattainable dream. And you had relished every moment of the past two months on the road. From the electric energy of the stage to the bone-deep exhaustion of late nights and early mornings, and you loved every single second of it. Yet, amidst the overwhelming excitement, a different emotion began to surface—a subtle pang of disappointment that tugged at your heart.

You made your way toward the stage entrance, still out of view of the audience. Their murmured conversations intertwined with the ambient music playing in the venue. With just ten minutes until your set time, you peered into the crowd, scanning the sea of faces and you searched for one person in particular: your boyfriend, Arthur.

Arthur had been one of your biggest supporters since long before you two became a couple. Being a musician himself, he understood and empathized with all that you had gone through to get where you are today: the late nights, the hours of hard work, the busy schedules, and the stress and fears that came with all of it. When you had broke the news of your first solo tour, he was easily the happiest person in the room.

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

The pair of you were cozied up on the couch in your apartment, your legs draped over his lap as you snuggled close, halfway through a movie that you couldn’t even remember anymore when you received a call from your manager.

As you made a move to get up and answer your phone, Arthur’s arm wrapped around you, a playful pout formed on his lips. "No, don't go," he murmured softly, his hand tightened on your thigh to keep you in place. 

“I’ll be right back…it’s just, it could be important,” you said softly, offering him a gentle smile before planting a tender kiss on his nose. "Just give me a minute," you reassured him, feeling his grip on you loosen as he gave you a small nod. With a resigned sigh, you peeled yourself out of his comforting embrace, slipping away to take the call. 

You paced around the living room, absorbed in conversation with your manager, while Arthur rested his chin on the back of the sofa. His gaze followed you intently, furrowing his eyebrows in an attempt to decipher the conversation from your expressions and strings of “okays” and “uh-huhs”. After a few minutes, you ended your call, spinning on your heels to face him, disbelief etched on your face.

You pause for a moment, dumbfounded, the words caught in your throat. Arthur looked at you expectantly and finally he broke the silence, "So? Everything ok?"

"I'm going on tour!", you screamed out, your voice filled with excitement as you jumped up and down in sheer joy.

He sprung off the couch, reaching you in an instant with his arms wide open.You jumped into his arms, overwhelmed with pure joy. He wrapped you in a tight embrace, lifting you slightly off the floor in one swift move. His wide smile mirrored yours, reflecting the genuine happiness he felt for you and you felt so lucky to have him by your side, celebrating this moment with you.

Gently, he set you back down on the ground, and as you faced each other, his hands found their place on your waist while yours naturally rested on his forearms. "I knew you were gonna make it big," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

You playfully teased him back, a grin tugging at your lips. "Look who's talking," you quipped, your tone light and teasing.

He lightly chuckled, his lips met yours in a soft and sweet kiss. As he pulled away, a hand caressed your cheek, his gaze filled with pride. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity.

Arthur knew the dedication you poured into your music, especially your most recent album. His acknowledgment of your talent and his unwavering faith in you meant more than words could express. "It was only a matter of time until the whole world saw what I saw," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "How talented you are." Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt overwhelmed by his words.

"Baby, why the tears?" Arthur gently wiped them away, his expression softening as he saw the conflicting emotions in your face.

"I-I don't know what to feel," you whispered, your voice came out shaky, as he wrapped you in another comforting hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. “I’m kinda scared babe,” you finally spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper, your vulnerability coming through in the trembling of your words.

You pulled away slightly, your eyes falling to your feet. Arthur, sensing your apprehension, bent down slightly to have a look at your face. "Hey, hey, listen to me," he said gently, his hands lifting your chin to meet his eyes. 

He smiled at you warmly, "I, of all people, know how hard you've worked for this."

"And I know you are going to do great,” he continued, his smile growing wider. "And best believe I'm going to be at every single show to support you. You're going to kill it out there, babe."

—------------

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the backstage manager's announcement: "Five minutes to go." her voice snaps you back to reality.

The reality was that two months had passed, and Arthur hadn’t been able to make it to a single one of your headline shows. Usually, before either of your shows, you’d atleast video call each other, finding solace in seeing his face and hearing his voice over the phone. But this time, you chose to forgo it, not wanting to set yourself up for disappointment again.

You let go of any hope that he might appear for this one and focus on trying to hyping yourself up instead. 

But you didn't blame Arthur for not being there, he was currently on tour as well. While he had offered to rearrange a few dates to work around yours, you declined the idea instantly, not wanting to inconvenience him or his fans. So in the end, you two recognized that the two of you just had to make it work, and moving around either of your tour dates was impractical.

Most of your show dates overlapped or were in different cities altogether, making it logistically challenging for Arthur to be there at your shows. Despite this, you managed to catch a few of his shows over the past few months, even flying out to Glasgow the week before, only to have him whisked away to another city shortly after. 

He was always extremely apologetic about it, but you couldn't help but feel slightly upset each time. You felt selfish for feeling the way you did; after all, this situation was out of his hands. And dwelling on it only added unnecessary stress. It’s not like it made you love him any less. You were incredibly proud of the success Arthur had garnered and knew how hard he had worked for it. But at the end of the day, you were finding it difficult to shake off the disappointment of him not being able to witness perform live.

So you made a conscious effort to push aside those feelings of disappointment and focus on your performance. You shook out your shoulders and your hands, trying to calm your nerves, trying to get yourself in the right headspace to deliver your finale show. Then, once both your tours ended, you looked forward to having your boyfriend's undivided attention once again.

As you finally step onto stage, highlighted under the spotlight, you are welcomed by the roar of the crowd. You let the booming sounds drown out whatever you were feeling previously and you felt the nerves melt away as you started to sing your music. You pour all you have into your set, feeding off of the electric energy of the crowd. 

As your final song begins to fade into the air, you take a moment to catch your breath, taking a little bow. "Thank you London!" you scream, your voice ringing with sincerity. "You have been amazing tonight. I love you all so much!" Tears well up in your eyes as you bid your final goodbyes to the cheering crowd. With a final wave, you make your exit from the stage, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

As you pull out your ear monitor and hand it, along with your mic, to one of the staff members, they swiftly assist you in removing your mic pack. You take a moment to express your gratitude to them and exchange thanks with everyone who passes by at that moment. Left alone for just about a minute, you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to calm down and soak in the moment. A sense of accomplishment washed over you, disbelief as you realized that you had just completed your first headline tour. 

Amidst the bustling backstage atmosphere of people packing up, your manager approaches you, enveloping you in a warm hug. "You were absolutely incredible out there," she says, her voice filled with pride. 

"Thank you so much," you reply gratefully. "I couldn't have done any of this without you." 

As she pulls away, she mentions with a warm smile, "Nonsense, you worked so incredibly hard for this."

You flash her a smile, as she continues, "I've got to head out soon, tuck my kid into bed. You’ll be okay if I leave first?”

You nod understandingly, "Of course. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I’ve got your assistant to keep me company."

She smiles appreciatively, giving you a final hug before bidding you farewell, "Take care, and go celebrate with the band tonight! Use the company card!"

As she heads off, you chuckle at her parting words. Her assistant approaches, congratulating you, "Great show, Y/N. You absolutely killed it out there."

You exchange a hug with him, expressing your gratitude. He then hands you a towel and a bottle of water.

You take the bottle from him with a small smile, engaging in light conversation as you sip on it. As you hand back the half-empty bottle, your gaze catches a familiar head of messy hair entering the backstage area through the stage exit.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize it's Arthur, standing there with a proud smile on his face. It feels almost surreal seeing him at one of your shows in the flesh. You couldn't believe it. Having given up hopes of seeing him at your show, the moment felt too good to be true, as if you're caught in a dream. Especially considering he had his own show tonight as well, the fact that he'd made it felt nothing short of a miracle.

You are pulled out of your thoughts when you hear someone clearing their throat. You look back to your manager's assistant, who shifts awkwardly before speaking up. "Well, I'm gonna go be someplace else," he says, his tone a tad awkward. 

"Yeah, sure," you respond quickly, offering a polite smile. "Just call me if you need anything," he adds hurriedly. "I have some things to wrap up." You nod in acknowledgment and offer a quick thanks as he swiftly exits the backstage area.

Now that the two of you were alone, Arthur walks up to you. Despite feeling happy to see him, you couldn't shake off the lingering sense of disappointment. All you wanted was for him to be there, to watch you perform, and the frustration of his absence during your shows still weighed heavily on you. And your facial expression reflected how you were feeling. When he finally reaches you, you make no effort to move.

Arthur had always been able to read you like an open book, and he had noticed the slightly annoyed, tight-lipped expression on your face. Rather than trying to coax you into a better mood with words, he instead pulls you into an embrace. Despite your attempt to appear upset, your body betrays you as your arms instinctively wrap around him, drawing him closer. As he holds you, you can't help but melt into his touch, your tummy doing a little flip as you take in his familiar scent. His presence has a calming effect, momentarily pushing aside the frustration you were feeling just moments ago.

You feel him smile against your hair as he feels you wrap your arms around him tighter. "Hey, you," he murmurs softly against your hair, exuding sweetness. Despite feeling comforted by his presence, you still feel slightly conflicted."Hi," you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than usual.

He then pulls away, his hands gently cupping your face as he looks into your eyes before he leans in, engulfing your lips in a soft kiss. The warmth of his lips against yours elicits a response, kissing him back, but Arthur can sense that something is amiss. "I thought you'd be happier to see me," he says, flashing you his cute heart-melting smile. You try to put on a brave face, reminding yourself to be happy now that he was finally here. "No, I'm excited to see you," you insist, placing both your hands on his chest, though your voice lacks its usual enthusiasm.

You try to force a smile, but then a realization flashes across your features. With a cocked eyebrow, you ask, "Didn't you have a show today? When did you get here?" You attempt to steer the conversation away from you. With a gentle smile, he says "I left as soon as my show ended. I caught the end of your show. You were amazing." He adds, "You did so well out there." You muster a faint, "Oh, thank you, babe," but your smile falls short of its usual brightness. Arthur lets out a sigh as he grows more concerned by the shift in your demeanor.

Arthur's expression turns serious. "Hey, what happened, baby? Tell me what's wrong," he urges gently. You hesitate for a moment before responding, "Nothing, I'm fine." He gives you a skeptical look, and you quickly add, "Seriously, I'm fine," trying to brush it off. Deep down, you feel the urge to cry, and the last thing you wanted right now was for Arthur to see you in tears.

Just then, you hear a mix of voices coming from the stage, and Arthur takes a step back from you, turning to face the direction of the noise. You see the band finally making it backstage after packing up their instruments. One of the band members waves to you as they walk by and calls out, "Hey Y/N, you coming with us for a drink?" Sniffling, you quickly wipe your eyes, determined to rid them of any tears that may threaten to spill. Gathering yourself, you reply, "Yeah, just give me a few minutes. I need to change. I'll be right there with you lot." They nod quickly before heading off to their green rooms.

You turn back to Arthur, who was still eyeing you with a concerned expression and furrowed eyebrows. "Talk to me, Y/N," he says, his hands grabbing yours, his thumbs running comfortingly over your hands. Part of you wanted to break down and tell Arthur everything, how you've hated not having him here, how upset you've been. But you know that if he sees you like this, he would feel absolutely horrible and blame everything on himself.

Swallowing hard, you remove your hands from his and respond softly, "Nothing, I'm just tired." Arthur's concern deepens, and he suggests, "Okay, then let's get you back home. I don't have to leave until the morning anyways." 

You quickly interject, "No, it's fine. I think I should go out with the band for a bit. They've worked so hard, I should celebrate with them. I won't be out long." By the look of his face you knew that he wasn't buying it, so you continued, "I'll just go change real quick, and then we'll go out. I think we both deserve a bit of a night out, yeah?" He nods with a smile, and you tell him to wait as you head off toward your dressing room, hoping to compose yourself in private.

You quickly enter your dressing room and shut the door behind you, just wanting a moment to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you stand in front of the mirror, trying to compose yourself. You look at yourself, trying to push away the feelings of frustration and letdown that were bubbling up to the surface again. You remind yourself to be okay, not wanting to start a petty fight with Arthur over something so trivial. With your tour now over you were now happy to have the time to support him. 

But, before you could stop them, tears start rolling down your face, tracing hot paths down your cheeks, smearing some of your mascara in the process. "Pull yourself together," you whisper to your reflection, your voice trembling slightly. You grab a makeup wipe from the packet on the dressing table and attempt to wipe away the tears and clean up some of the smudged makeup under your eyes, but the tears don’t stop coming. You try to calm yourself down again, but in that moment, you break down. Finally crying freely as you let your head hang and your hands coming up to cover your face, releasing the pent-up frustration that had been building over the past 2 months.

You didn’t realize that your sobs were now audible through the door until you heard a soft knock. Arthur's voice, laced with concern, seeps through the crack. "Baby, are you okay?" he asks gently. "Please open the door. Tell me what happened."

You hesitate, feeling torn between wanting to let him in and not wanting him to see you like this, afraid that your reasons might upset him as well. As you glance at the door, you hurriedly wipe your tears, attempting to regain your composure. "Everything's fine," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling slightly, "Just give me a few minutes."

Arthur's voice gets slightly louder, "Y/N, don't lie to me, please," he pleads. "I need to see that you're okay. Please just open the door, baby."

You feel a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that he genuinely cared about your well-being. Despite your reluctance, you can't bear to keep him waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the door and unlock it, allowing Arthur to step inside.

He instantly pulls you into another hug, drawing you close to his chest. His arms envelop you, trying to comfort you. One of his hands moves to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair soothingly as you lightly sob into his shirt. You stay there for a moment. 

Sensing your sobs beginning to subside, he gently attempts to pull away, intending to get a better look at your face. "Come on, baby, let me see you," he whispers softly. You shake your head softly, not wanting him to see your tear-streaked face, and snuggle even closer to him. He lets you stay nestled against him, resting his chin on your head and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks very softly, trying to be patient with you. He knew that when you got like this, trying to force you to talk was never the answer. He understood that if you felt pressured, you would only shut down further.

You slowly shake your head, not knowing how to even start that conversation. He mutters, "Are you sure?" and you reply with a hesitant nod, "Yes, I'm fine." Though he doesn't believe you, he lets you stay in his arms for a little while longer, sensing your reluctance to open up. After a while, he continues, "Come on, baby, let it out. You know you’ll feel better if you just talk about it." He strokes your hair soothingly, encouraging you to share your feelings.

He says softly, "We can stay like this for as long as you want, but eventually, you're gonna have to come up for air." You chuckle slightly, feeling a bit lighter after releasing all the built-up emotions. With a deep breath, you pull away from his embrace, looking up at him with puffy eyes, smeared eye makeup and tear stained cheeks. Though you'd stopped crying, looking at the tender loving look in his eyes makes tears well up in your eyes again.

He lightly cups your face, wiping away at your tears. You nod, signaling that you are about to speak. Despite the concern in his eyes, he gives you a reassuring smile, silently encouraging you to go on. 

"Okay, yeah…," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. You pause, trying to gather your thoughts before continuing, "Arthur, it's just that... Okay, now, whatever I'm about to say, you shouldn't get upset by it, alright? I’m probably just making a big deal out of nothing," His worry deepens, his brows furrowing. "Baby, just tell me. You're scaring me now," he urges softly. 

Softly chuckling, you reassure him, "It's nothing like that," as you gently guide his hands away from your face, holding onto his forearms. You finally say, "Arthur, it's just... it hasn't been the easiest not having you here," your voice shaky with emotion. "I know we’ve talked about it before, and I know I’ve repeatedly said that I’m okay with you not being here all the time and that I understand most of the time you just couldn't physically be here." Tears begin to well up in your eyes again as you continue, "But, when I imagined this whole tour thing in my head, I just imagined you at all my shows, and being able to celebrate with you backstage afterwards." You wipe away at your face, trying to compose yourself, and add, "You know what? It's stupid, just forget about it," before glancing down, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Arthur's expression softens as he listens intently to your words. "I'm sorry, Y/N" he begins, but you quickly interrupt, insisting, "You have nothing to be sorry for." Your head is still down, but he gently lifts your chin, meeting your gaze. "No, I should," he says softly, his eyes reflecting remorse. "I should have been more understanding. I absolutely loved having you supporting me at my shows, and I was just so happy whenever you were there. I am a dense idiot for not realizing that you would, of course, want the same thing. I should have tried harder to be here." He pauses, his voice filled with sincerity, "And I'm sorry for that."

"Arthur," you start saying, but he interrupts you, his voice tinged with remorse, "Even if I wasn't able to actually be here for you, I should have checked in more often with you... I feel like such a shitty boyfriend."

You quickly interject, "Hey, no! Honestly, I've been fine mostly. It's just that seeing you here today just brought everything out, that's all. I'll be okay in a bit," you assure him with a small smile.

"You don’t have to hide your feelings from me, or hide your tears. I love you and your emotional ass, so tell me everything, okay? Especially when I’ve done something to upset you, no matter how small you think it is. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me something. And I promise you, I will never get mad at you," he reassures you, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, always."

You look at him, at a loss for words, and he simply pulls you into a tight embrace. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as his encircle your waist. "I love you so much, baby," he whispers softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "And I’m so proud of everything you've achieved. You're not selfish at all for wanting me here. I’m the selfish one for not being here," he admits, his voice filled with remorse. "I promise I’ll be better in the future," he reassures you, holding you close.

You exhale deeply, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Meeting his gaze again, your foreheads gently touching, "Just having you here now means everything to me." Your voice is filled with sincerity and gratitude. "I love you too, Arthur," you whisper. As you finally manage to muster a genuine smile, he returns it warmly. "There's that smile I love so much," he remarks, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your mouth. You can't help but let out a small giggle in response.

Feeling a lot better now, you glance at his white T-shirt and let out a little laugh. "Sorry about your shirt," you say, noticing the makeup smudges and wet tear spots on it. He chuckles in response, "No, it's fine, it adds character." Then he teases, “You know, if I sell this shirt on eBay, I can make a ton of money from it. It'll be an authentic Y/N creation." You giggle, playfully rolling your eyes and lightly swatting at his chest.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious about your appearance, you mutter, "God, I must look like such a mess right now," as you wipe at your cheeks. With a sigh, you pull away from him and walk slowly back to the dressing table. Grabbing another wipe, you clean up your messy face, taking off the remaining makeup as well.

Arthur follows you, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches you in the mirror. "Never," he murmurs softly, "you are the most beautiful woman I know, even when you cry." His words make you chuckle a little, scoffing lightly, and you see him smile with warm eyes. 

He moves your hair aside, pressing a tender kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder. "You always look perfect to me," he adds, "And besides, you looked like an absolute angel on stage today," he compliments, his eyes filled with admiration as he gazes at you in the mirror. You can't help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth spread through you. One of your hands comes up to rest on his, your head leaning against his. In that moment, all felt right again in the world, just the two of you together.

Once you're done wiping your makeup off, you turn in his arms to face him, leaning against the edge of the table. He looks at you with a tender smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You take a moment to admire his handsome features, your hand gently caressing his face, tracing the lines of his smile with your thumb. As you smile back at him, you notice the slight dark circles forming under his eyes.

"Did you manage any sleep at all today?" you ask, your voice laced with concern, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek. A slight frown forms on your lips as you await his response. He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, I'm just running on adrenaline," he admits with a tired smile.

You nod sympathetically, understanding the toll a busy schedule can take. "How did your show go by the way?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine interest as you gaze at him intently. He starts detailing the performance, his eyes aglow with excitement.

You listen attentively, captivated by his every word. As he talks, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and joy for him, your expression mirroring his enthusiasm. "You really are amazing, Arthur," you compliment him with a warm smile. He responds with a playful scoff, "Oh please, stop it," earning a laugh from the both of you.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, gently tucking your hair behind your ears. You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’m sorry that I absolutely freaked out on you” you say, feeling slightly guilty but he quickly dismisses it, "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

"I mean, I was expecting you to run up and jump into my arms, but maybe next time." he says playfully. "Well, go stand over there. Give me some space for a run-up,” you suggest, playing along. Chuckling, he shakes his head, his hands gently resting on your waist. "No," he replies with a grin. You lean in and plant a soft peck on his cheek, returning his smile.

"But seriously, if you ever feel like this again, about anything, just talk to me, okay?" You nod in agreement, feeling incredibly grateful to have such a supportive boyfriend. "I promise," you assure him, squeezing his hand gently.

Arthur wraps his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer as he gently strokes the exposed skin on your back, a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. Your hand instinctively moves up to his chest, a tingle spreading down your spine at the warmth of his touch. "You know," he murmurs softly, "I missed you." You respond with a giggle, teasingly saying, "Aw, Arthur, I missed you too." He leans in to kiss you, but you tilt your face away at the last minute, laughing as he ends up planting a kiss on your cheek instead.

"Well, If you missed me so much, then you should have come to more than just this show…. I mean I’ve been to pretty much every other one of yours," you jokingly tell him, a playful twinkle in your eye as you reach up to place a kiss on his jaw. He feigns hurt, "Oh, way to kick a guy when he's down babe."

“Hey, it's not like you’re completely forgiven,” you tease, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He pouts slightly, "You're right, I’ll make it up to you somehow." he says with a little wink, leaning in closer. His warm breath tickles your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips inch closer to yours. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as he places his hands on the table, trapping you between his body and the table. "In fact," he adds, "I can start right away if you want."

Without another word, his hand moves to the back of your neck, closing the distance between you two. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, and as the intensity of the moment grows, you melt into his embrace, lost in the sensation of his lips against yours. He deepens the kiss, his grip tightening at your waist, digging into the exposed flesh, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Your hand begins to move from his chest and slowly makes its way towards his pants, your fingertips lightly grazing the fabric over his crotch, but Arthur gently redirects your hand, placing it next to you on the table.

You pull away from your kiss, gasping for breath, confusion evident in your eyes as you gaze into his deep brown ones. Arthur lightly shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. "It's all about you today, baby" he whispers softly against your lips. You visibly swallow, and it wasn’t long before his lips trail away from yours, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel the press of his lips against your skin, your skin feeling hot under their touch.

You feel him smirking against your neck before he cups you below your ass, effortlessly lifting you up off your feet. You couldn't help but giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you over to the couch, gently placing you down. 

You shuffle back slightly until your back touches the armrest, making room for him to join you. He places his between your legs as he leans in, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. "Think I could help you out of these clothes, baby?" he murmurs against your lips, his hand finding its place on your hip, “I'm sure they're very uncomfortable.” 

You laugh in response, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him back, eyeing him playfully. "You first," you tease, a smirk dancing on your lips as you nod towards him, “Go on.”

Arthur stands up, wasting no time in taking off his clothes until he's left only in his boxers as you eye him up and down taking in the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you. He’s quick to come and help you with yours, reaching for the waistband of your pants, along with your panties and sliding them off, his hands tracing over your thighs. 

As he moves to remove your top, you wince, causing him to freeze in concern. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asks, his brow furrowing with worry as he searches your face for any signs of discomfort. You can't help but laugh at his reaction. "No, no," you reassure him, shaking your head. "I just forgot I had fashion tape on to keep my top in place."

He asks again, his voice filled with concern, "Are you sure you're fine?" You nod, "Yes, Arthur, I'm fine." With a seductive smile, you pull him closer by his shoulder, your eyes dark with lust. "Now come here," you whisper, "I forgot how much I enjoyed seeing you without your shirt on."

He chuckles, as you run your hand over his chest, tracing your fingers along his tattoos. He dips his body down to kiss the skin above your breasts, tenderly placing kisses on the red marks left behind by the tape. Moving lower, he takes one of your tits into his mouth, his lips wrapping around your hard nipple while his hand caresses your other breast. A moan escapes your lips at the sensation of his tongue, and your hands instinctively move to his hair, gently tugging as he groans in response.

He trails kisses down your body, each touch sending a sensation of electricity through you. You revel in the softness of his lips as he moves lower, his kisses tracing a tantalizing path over your skin. He works his way down to reach your inner thighs, gripping one of your thighs firmly, he carefully maneuvers it over his shoulder. His kisses grow more urgent as he inches closer to your needy core. Your skin tingles under his lips, the wetness between your thighs increasing with each teasing kiss.

His fingers dip into your folds, collecting your wetness, "You're already so wet for me, baby," he murmurs in a low voice, his voice thick with desire. You stifle a moan at his words, your breath catching at the look of lust in his eyes. "Fuck, Arthur," you breathe out, your voice laced with need, as he attaches his lips to your clit. His tongue explores your wet folds with a slow, gentle pace, driving you wild.

He starts sucking a little harder, eliciting a loud moan from you, and you feel him groan against your clit, the vibrations of his voice sending waves of pleasure through you. Your moans and groans only make Arthur increase his pace, and you shut your eyes, throwing your head back. The sensation of his finger dipping into you makes you gasp. You manage to open your eyes, finding him looking back at you with hooded eyes, the intensity in his gaze sending your heart into a frenzy.

You knew that Arthur was good with his mouth, but he never failed to surprise you each time, and you could feel yourself edging closer to your high. He continues to suck and stroke your clit until you finally feel your orgasm bubble up to the surface. You scream out his name as you reach your peak, your body trembling with pleasure, cumming into his mouth. 

He cleans you up with his mouth as best he can before he pulls back, placing your leg back on the sofa. He supports his weight by placing his hands on either side of you, attaching his lips to your neck.

"I'm not done with you yet," he whispers against your neck, his eyes dark with desire as he gazes up at you. "You think you still have it in you for one more?" Your brain is still clouded from your recent high and you struggle to form coherent words, just nodding in response.

Arthur lets out a low, throaty laugh before crashing his lips against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He starts to take off his boxers, kicking them to the side and settles in between your legs, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

After a bit, he reluctantly pulls away from you, your lips chasing his as he makes his way to where he had flung his jeans. Rummaging through them, he finds his wallet, pulling out a foil packet. He quickly rips it open and slides it onto his already hard length before swiftly returning to you.

He slowly grabs your thighs, spreading them wider as he positions himself between them. He gives you a kiss on your jaw before he lines himself up, before he finally thrusts into you. “You ok baby?” he asks. You groan in response, managing to mumble out a breathy, "Yes, Arthur... fuck," reveling in the sensation of him filling you up. The pleasure evident on Arthur's face drives you wild, causing you to melt into the couch beneath you.

Arthur grabs your waist as he quickens his pace and his mouth finds its way to your chest again.

The sensation of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your chest, and feeling him deep inside you becomes almost overwhelming and you grip onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin.

“God, Y/N, I love you so much,” he murmurs, his words sending your heart soaring, but the intensity of the moment consumes you. The pleasure courses through your body and you feel your orgasm approaching much quicker than before. You moan and arch into him, desperate for release.

Almost as if Arthur read your mind, he breathes out, "I’m so close, baby." You respond, your voice barely above a whisper, "Me too." He furrows his eyebrows, trying to hold on longer, wanting to make the moment last, but it becomes increasingly difficult when you're a gorgeous, moaning mess under him.

He feels your walls clench around his shaft as your orgasm washes over you, and you moan his name aloud. Arthur lets a groan before he spills inside of you with one last thrust. Collapsing on top of you, both of you slightly sweaty, he rests his forehead gently on yours as you both pant against each other.

Once you both get your breathing leveled out, you look at him, feeling his hand come up to softly caress your cheek. "Am I forgiven now?" he laughs as he asks you. You smile back at him, "I think I might consider it now," you reply, laughing softly. 

"I love you, Arthur," you say softly, gazing into his eyes. A smile at you, warmth spreading over his handsome features before leaning in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

As you're about to suggest that the two of you should go get cleaned up, you hear a knock on your door, your head whipping in the direction of the sound. "Hey, are you ready to go? We'll leave in a bit," you hear the voice of your bandmate peer through the closed door.

"Yeah, just us five more minutes, we'll meet you out front," you scream back, and you hear him reply with an "Okay" before his footsteps retreat.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you grin mischievously. "I should get mad at you more often," you tease.

But he looks at you deadpan and says, "No, please don’t,” and you both share a laugh. “I hate it when you're upset with me," he adds with a playful smirk before planting a quick peck on your lips and getting up.

He helps you to your feet and says, “Now let’s go celebrate you, baby,” before the two of you head off to get cleaned up and step out together.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Requests are open…or just drop in for a chat! 😊

#arthur hill #arthur hill smut #arthur hill fluff #arthur hill imagine #Arthur hill fics #arthur hill x reader #arthurtv #chrismd #george clarke #george clarkey #chaos crew

[twodimensionalboyfriend]

Aki spa day :))

wc: ~2.1k read time: ~8 minutes

༉‧₊˚.¸♡ master list✧ '*•༉

cw: established relationship, fem reader (GN throughout, calls her a beautiful girl at the end bc im kind of a whore for that shit), fluff, make out (i wouldn’t say it’s spicy but like it’s kinda seasoned i guess), mildly ooc aki but only because he’s experiencing happiness and idk if that man has ever known an ounce of joy,

if there are an content warnings you think i missed, please tell me so!! i’ll add them to this post and remember to add them to future ones!! :) ♡ ♡

and pls pls like and reblog and reply!! literally if you interact i will kiss you on the mouth

Being a public safety devil hunter is no one’s dream job. While the pay is pretty great and you get plenty of PTO, the death, tragedy, and destruction you see on a weekly basis is not always worth it. The only reason you’ve stuck around this long is because somehow you lucked out with your partner.

Aki.

He’s so mellow and kind and smart and he is so so handsome. These last few years with him have been some of the most difficult of your life, but he makes it manageable. The two of you have been partners for the last 3 years. You both have your eyes set on killing the gun devil, but you know that deep down, it's only Aki who believes he can actually get the job done.

Truthfully, you wished for an easy life with him. All you want is to work a usual 9 to 5 (preferably one that won’t kill you), come home, make dinner and have a quiet evening with the man you love. God, how does something so simple sound like such an unattainable fantasy?

On your days off, you like to lean in to the fantasy a little bit. You took off this Friday in return for working a mission the following Sunday, so you slept in, made a nice brunch, ran some errands and decided that you were going to do a full skin care spa day at home to relieve some stress. It’s rare that you get the chance to take time to take care of yourself, so this was definitely needed after a very long week at work. Which is what you were doing when Aki came home that evening.

You heard the door open and his post-work-day sigh, “y/n, you home?”

“In the bathroom!”

Aki walked in and couldn’t help but smile a little bit. You were in an old t-shirt of his that was just a bit too big and some lounge pants with cats on them. You had your hair clipped out of your face and were applying under-eye patches. He leaned in and kissed the top of your head. It surprises him every time that no matter what you’re doing or wearing, he still thinks you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen.

“How was work today?” you asked.

“Could have been worse. Makima has Power and Denji training with Kishibe non-stop since the ambush on the devil hunting divisions, so it was nice not having them around all day,” he went on, “But I know that she knows something we don’t about the recent ambush attacks and why they targeted Denji. She’s not telling us and I need to figure out what it is and why. Oh, and we also killed a roach devil, so that was pretty gross. Just felt like a long day."

You sighed. He’s always cared too deeply. You’ve tried to tell him that he shouldn’t be so invested in the job and that he should just treat devil hunting as a paycheck ad nothing more, because at the end of the day you all know that you’re replaceable. It hurts when you see him coming home carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for a job that would replace him in less than a week.

You step towards him, “I’m sorry that work was rough. I mean, when is it not but, you know.” Your hands reach up and pull his hair tie out, letting his hair fall down, “How about this? You shower and then change into comfy clothes, and I can give you a little massage and face treatment? Having clean skin and being taken care of always helps me unwind,” you said with a smile.

Aki thought about this. Honestly? He felt exhausted. He was hungry and was looking forward to dinner and sleeping. But you looked so cute with your under eye patches, and the idea of being pampered and loved by his girlfriend was not at all unappealing. “Okay. That sounds.. nice, actually.”

“Yay! Okay, step one is to go take a shower and wipe off the bad energy from work today. Take your time and enjoy the warm water! I’d join you but I literally just showered,” you chuckle and finished up your routine with some lip balm. .

“I mean you can never be too clean—”

“Yeah yeah, get your ass in there,” you pushed him and he laughed softly. You never wanna go a day in your life without hearing it.

About 15 minutes later, you hear the bathroom door open and Aki’s footsteps shortly following. “Alright missy," he walked in to your shared bedroom wearing a black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants, “What’s step two?”

“You washed your face in the shower, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“‘Kay, go lay down in bed. I’ll be there in a sec!”

Puzzled yet smiling, Aki went to the bedroom. A moment later, you came in with some of your skin care. Bottles, tubes and other containers clinked with each other as you walked.

“Uhh, am I still gonna have skin after this?” he teased, “Wait what are those for?” he pointed at the strawberry barrettes in your hand.

“Clipping your hair back!" You dump your things onto your nightstand beside you, "I figured having it loose and clipped back was more comfortable after it’s gets tied back all day.”

Your hands reached up and gently pulled his bangs out of his face and clipped them back. His hair was always so soft and shiny, which you always found unfair considering he does nothing but shampoo and conditioner after tying it up all day.

Aki hummed in agreement. He loved when you played with his hair. He didn't know another person's hands could feel so good, “A correct assumption,” he smiled as you finished tucking his bangs back.

“Okay, so first I’m going to tone your skin then I’ll use some relaxing serums. I don’t know how, but you are blessed with very clear skin, so I don’t want to go crazy with cleansers and peels,” you beginning to apply a toner with some cotton rounds.

“Peels? Wait, will I actually still have skin after this?”

“Hey! Trust the process,” you laughed and bopped him in the forehead with the cotton pad.

And yet again, that little fantasy sneaks up on you from your subconscious. A life where you can treat and love your boyfriend like this. A life where you hear his laughter more often than his weeping. A life where he smiles more than he wears that stoic glower he has all the time. The way he melts and relaxes under your touch is something that is so special to you. You wished you could do it for him more often.

“Okay now I’m gonna use some niacinamide for any discoloration you have,” you say as you drop some serum on his face

“Do I have discolora—” he gasped, “That stuff is cold!”

“Relax you baby, and no you don’t because life is very unfair,” you felt him chuckle as you began massaging the product into his face. His skin was soft under your gentle hands and you could feel his breathing slowing as he let himself ease into your touch. It felt nice to take your time and love him like this. Life is always so fast and intense for Aki. He deserved to have these slow and soft moments.

You tapped his face gently, "Time for eye patches, like the ones I had earlier.”

“What are they for?”

“The ones I’m gonna put on you are just hydrating with a little bet of retinol for any fine lines. And while those sit I’ll tweeze your brows and depuff your face with a face roller!” you say as you crack open the patches.

“And you do this every night??” Aki asked.

“Oh god no, this is like the relaxation treatment I do when I get a day when I finally have nothing to do. I wish I had the time and energy to do this every day,” you joked. “Okay eye patches are on! Now sit up, because I don’t trust myself to not fuck up your eye brows while you’re upside down.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I trust you either,” he grunted as he sat up.

Once he was right side up, you began to position yourself sat in front of him but you yelp when he pulls you into his lap by surprise. You felt your heart speed up a bit when you felt his groin press into yours and his hands settled on your hips. You stutter, “woaHA-Aki! Uhm, am I..” you swallowed, “Uhm— are you comfortable?”

“I feel just fine,” He said in an innocent tone, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. Aki loved to pick on you like this. It’s rare that you stumble or get flustered out in the field or with all your friends, and he thinks you’re so cute when you’re a little worked up, “Are you comfortable, y/n?”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you asked.

Fine, two can play that game.

You grabbed his face and pulled him towards your lips. The way his mouth instantly opened for your tongue turned you on even more and you rolled your hips into his. The groan he made was so sexual it made you shiver. Your favorite thing about loving Aki is the way it feels like he savors every touch you two share. Every time his mouth and tongue move against yours, it made you feel loved and wanted. Though he always gives you that feeling no matter what he did.

His grip on your hips tighten as you ran your fingers through his hair. You smiled into the kiss as you felt him get harder underneath you when you pulled on it. Gotcha.

You slow the momentum and then give him one last sweet kiss, “Okay, time to start on your brows!”

He had a buffering look on his face as he realized what you meant, “W-wait, c’mon— That’s not fair!”

You began to work, “I don’t understand what you mean? Thought we were just being silly? Just playing? Joshing around if you w—”

“Alright missy, you’ve made your point, very funny ha ha now finish up my face.” But his smile gave away what his tone tried to hide.

And so, for the next few minutes you hummed some song stuck in your head while Aki occasionally hissed as you tweezed.

“Okay all done!” You said as you plucked the last hair.

“So? How do I look?”

“Well, not everyone’s can look as good as mine but you’re definitely doing better than before!” you giggled as you handed him a mirror.

“Very funny,” he looked at his brows, “Oh woah, they look super clean.”

“The power of facial grooming. I’m gonna finish you off with some moisturizer and your skin will be free of toxins.”

“What toxins?”

“I don’t know, ask the influencers, because apparently our bodies are full of them,” you said, applying the cream to his face as he chuckled. And yet again, you wished life was a little bit different.

Aki, on the other hand, loves spending time with you. He would do almost anything if it made you happy, and didn’t think about why until recently. You had this weird ability to make it seem like everything was going to be okay. He wants to keep having these moments with you to help drown out the sounds of everything else in his life. Aki realized, up until now, he was just surviving through whatever life threw at him, but with you he wants to actually live through it. He wants to take you out and enjoy the evening. Actually cook and taste good food, not just tolerate whatever gave him enough to keep going. He doesn’t have to just put up with the people in his life. Maybe... and just maybe... Aki can actually love and care for someone again.

He knows this line of work is going to kill him in a few years, and that Aki has goals that he just can't give up on. He doesn’t even think he deserves to live a good life with you, truthfully. Yet he’s decided to be selfish and try to have it anyways

He snaps out of his thoughts, “What are you craving for dinner?”

“Pork onigiri?”

“Pork onigiri you will have,” he leaned in for a kiss and said, “I love you very much. Thank you for always taking care of me, beautiful girl” he kissed you again.

You pulled away, “Of course. I’ll always take care of you; I love you too.”

He gave you one last peck before getting up and walking to the kitchen for dinner.

#aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki #aki hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man #csm #aki hayakawa x y/n #csm x reader #fluff #csm fluff

[imaginestuffs]

Loving Marc Spector- Marc Spector x Reader

word count:1574

warnings: ANGST, this is before the series begins. language.

Summary: You're in love with Marc, but he isn't in love with you.

part 2

(not my gif!)

Loving Marc Spector wasn’t something you planned on happening. You didn’t expect to fall in love with him but you did and you were horrified. You knew you were never good at hiding your feelings from Marc, and especially not when they were this strong. He would always find out one way or another. Something about him made you fall in love with him, and you were not sure whether it was his way of making himself practically unattainable or the fact that he’d been by your side since you were young, and you’d just fallen over the years. It was difficult knowing that he trusted you but barely told you a thing. You knew about Khonshu, but there was something else he wasn’t telling you and you were afraid he never would. 

You sat in your apartment with your head in your hands, and frustrated tears gathering in your eyes. Not answering anyone's calls just holed up in your small apartment not wanting to face your feelings. You wanted nothing more than to lie in bed all day and brood but you also wanted to be with Marc, you worried about him being on his own though you knew very well that he could take care of himself. He could be a bit reckless and it made you cringe at the thought of him being hurt and alone, though it came to your mind only seconds later that he had the suit to heal him. All of these thoughts made the tears finally fall, you just wanted to crawl into bed and let yourself cry for as long as you needed to. 

You heard your phone chime, and you knew for a fact that it was Marc because of the specific sound. “Fuck, why do you have to care?” you choked out into the silence of the room. You grabbed your phone and checked it despite the fact that he was the last person you wanted to hear from. 

“I’m coming over,” were the only words typed across your screen. You let your head fall into your hands, you knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him. He had a spare key, and you knew that no matter what, he would find a way into your apartment. Instead of texting him back, you continued to sit on the couch with tears streaming down your face, and your heart breaking the more you thought about seeing him. 

Sitting on the couch and staring off into space you didn’t notice the door opening and footsteps coming toward you. 

“(y/n)?” you suddenly heard your name being called and your head snapped up. You saw the man you loved and a worried expression across his face. You wiped furiously at your eyes trying to rid yourself of the tears falling from your eyes. “Hey, Marc, is everything ok?” you asked as calmly as you could. He raised a brow and sat down next to you. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in 3 days,” he said blatantly. “Right sorry,” you nodded and looked away from him. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Marc said and tried to turn your face toward him. “There’s nothing wrong Marc, I’m just fine,” you said but let him turn your head so you would look at him. “You know you can’t lie to me, you may be good, but you’re not that good,” he told you. “There really isn’t anything going on. I’m ok,” you tried again. 

He placed both hands on your face and holds your gaze. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he reminded you and stroked your cheeks. You let your eyes close and tried to keep the tears from falling once again. “I can’t tell you,’ you let out a big sigh. “I just can’t tell you,” you shook your head and he let go of your face before letting his hands rest on your shoulders. “And why is that? Did I do something wrong?” he asked questions just furthering your stress. “Marc, no, no, you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. I just, I don’t want anything to happen,” you explained to him. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“It means that if I tell you, things will change between us and I can’t let that happen,” you said and pulled away from his grasp. “Have you done something?” he asked carefully, “Because if you have we can work this out together,” he started, but you cut him off. “I have. I have done something and no we can’t work it out because it doesn’t work that way. Loving someone who doesn’t love you isn’t something the pair can usually work out together Marc,” you raised your voice. The second the words left your lips your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. Marc’s eyes widened as well, and his brain was hurriedly trying to comprehend what you had just said to him. You stood up from the couch and turned away from him trying to figure out something to say to fix everything. 

“Marc-” you started but didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” you said and felt tears come to your eyes once again. His silence was scaring you, “You love me?” you heard the question from behind you and you screwed your eyes shut. “I know you don’t feel the same ok, I know it so please don’t ask me to say it again,” you pleaded with him. You knew you were eventually going to have to turn around and face him and so you took a deep breath and turned on your heel. He almost had a look of fear in his eyes. 

He was scared, he was horrified to lose you, and he was determined to make it ok. Though Marc seemed cold, and on occasion unreasonable, he was sweet and felt so much more than anyone could imagine. He cared for you, just not the way you cared for him evidently. 

It almost made him just want to walk out the door because he was honestly scared, he was scared. You had been his best friend for years, and now you’ve just confessed that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. He’s torn, he has no idea what to do. 

“How long?” he asked slowly. You sighed and tried to keep your voice from shaking, “A long time Marc,” you admitted nervously. He put his head in his hands and dragged his hands through his hair. “What am I supposed to say?” he asked roughly and looked up at you. “What do you want me to say?” he asked again his voice getting louder. Your eyes got wide, “I don’t know Marc, ok. I don’t know. All I know is that you don’t love me like that, and I was stupid to say anything at all. It’s my fault, I take responsibility for ruining our friendship. That’s on me, and I’m sorry…” you trailed off as your voice continued to strain and tears fell. 

“You’re right about my feelings and I’m so sorry, ok. I am but I can’t love you, I don’t love you like that. Just thinking about it doesn’t feel right,” he admitted and it made your heart stop. “Looking at you right now, and knowing that you love me makes my stomach turn, it makes me want to turn around and walk out of here,” he stated. Your breathing hitched and you felt like you were going to die. Just the thought of you loving him made him sick, it made him want to get away from you. It broke your heart, you knew it wasn’t going to be good but you didn’t think he would break you like this. 

“What? so, I make you sick now?” you asked hoping it would come out harsh but it came out as more of a whimper. He felt his heart stop for a second at your words and realized what he had said to you. “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it,” he spoke pointedly. “It sure sounded like it, I knew you’d reject me but I never thought it would be this bad,” you said and wrapped your arms around yourself as if trying to protect yourself from any more harm. “You need to leave Marc,” you said suddenly and looked away from him. “I don’t want to leave it like this,” he stood his ground. “Well, I can’t handle any more of your daggers in my heart alright, just leave…” you trailed off once again. He looked at you with those beautiful brown eyes filled with regret and fear. “Please,” you practically pleaded. “We can fix this, we always fix it,” he tried. You just shook your head with tears blurring your vision. “I don’t know, Marc. I don’t know,” you said and you both could practically hear each other’s hearts shattering on the floor. 

He looked at you with tears brimming in his eyes before standing up to place a kiss on your forehead. You covered your mouth to hold back a cry as you watched him walk to the door. 

“I’m sorry,” were his last words to you, and yours were “I’m sorry too,” 

That was the last you heard from Marc and it’s been months. Oh, how you wish you could’ve fixed it. 

#moon knight x reader #moon knight series #mcu moon knight #moon knight mcu #moon knight imagines #moon knight imagine #moon knight one shot #steven grant/marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector moon knight #marc spector #marc spector imgaine #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfic #marc spector x female reader #steven grant imagine #steven grant moon knight #steven grant x reader #marvel x reader #marvel angst #marvel imagines #marvel #marvel studios #marvel imagine #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel x female reader #marvel fanfiction

[rottenpumpkin13]

Your Genesis angst was beautiful (I. will admit to almost crying) and got me thinking.

So, what if one day Genesis is working on a project and it just. Isn't. Going. Right. It's supposed to be perfect, it's supposed to be amazing, this was the one thing he'd been excited about all day but it isn't perfect. He's horrible at everything and he's a failure. He's spent hours and hours, hasn't eaten, hasn't drank, hasn't done jackshit for himself.

And of course, because his friends love him very much, they go to check on him, only for Genesis to burst out sobbing, telling them about all his insecurities because they just can't stay inside anymore. How would they react?

Cathartic fluff be upon ye .・゜-: ✧ :-

• Genesis received an invitation to write a thought-provoking article for an esteemed magazine. As a prominent scholar in the study of Loveless, high expectations accompanied the request.

• But while he typically articulated his ideas effortlessly, this particular task wasn't going well.

• Struggling with writer's block, he neglected sleep and food, consumed by a relentless focus on writing 24/7. This ceaseless dedication took a toll on him, and when the article was finally completed, self-doubt crept in. He despised his work, questioning his abilities, feeling like a fraud, and constantly comparing himself to an unattainable standard.

• Angeal was the first to notice that there was something wrong. It happened after their lunch break—Genesis had skipped it, but Angeal and Sephiroth chalked it up to him being busy with his bustling social life, a lunch date with one of his admirers undoubtedly.

• But Angeal found Genesis in his office, the exact same place he had left him an hour prior. He was curled up on his desk chair, with blood-shot eyes staring at his computer screen. Something told Angeal that the red wasn't due to eyestrain from staring at the screen for too long. His eyes were too glassy, too wet for it to be that. He had been crying.

• Then came Sephiroth. He had noticed the cafeteria had a selection of fresh Banora White's, a rarity to find in Midgar. Genesis was again absent, so Sephiroth decided to grab one for him. But when he brought it up to Genesis's office, the man flat-out refused the fruit, claiming not to be hungry.

• Sephiroth was well-acquainted with a lost appetite under extreme stress, which is why his concern led him to seek out Angeal and tell him that Genesis was not well.

"So you noticed it too, huh?" Angeal remarked.

"Has he shown any other signs of distress?" Sephiroth asked.

Angeal nodded, "I might have seen him crying the other day, remember when he skipped lunch? I went to check up on him after."

A frown tugged Sephiroth's lips. "He hadn't eaten that day?"

"Doesn't seem like it," Angeal admitted. "Zack told me he saw him leave his office at 4 AM the other day."

Sephiroth sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Which means he's been neglecting sleep."

Angeal confirmed with a nod.

A contemplative silence enveloped Sephiroth as he crossed his arms, looking to the side and parting his lips hesitantly.

"What is it?" Angeal asked.

"It's just... he's usually light." Sephiroth's tone was heavy. "Now... he's dim."

The words weighed on Angeal, who then and there decided to put an end to their problem at once.

He forced an understanding smile, placing a firm hand on Sephiroth's shoulder as he stood. "I know what you mean. Come on, let's go talk to him."

• When they returned to Genesis's office as a duo, he was still there. They didn't bother knocking, gently pushing the door open to see Genesis seated at his desk, surrounded by scattered papers and dimly lit by a single lamp. His auburn hair seemed dulled, mirroring the weariness in his eyes.

• Genesis glanced up as they entered, a mixture of surprise and exhaustion etched on his face. "Oh. What do you guys need?"

Sephiroth fought the urge to wince. Even his voice sounded hoarse and lifeless.

Angeal approached with a gentle smile. "Gen, you haven't given yourself a break from writing that article, have you?" His tone conveyed both understanding and worry.

Genesis sat up straighter. He looked wounded, opening his mouth to respond, but being cut off by Sephiroth.

"I haven't seen you at lunch, nor have you appeared at dinner. You haven't been eating properly either." His usually stoic demeanor softened by genuine worry on his face.

Genesis wordlessly glanced to the dozen of empty coffee cups on the floor by his desk.

Sephiroth huffed. "Coffee does not constitute as a meal."

Genesis sunk down into his seat again, pulling both if his legs up and hugging his knees.

As Genesis buried his face, they exchanged a meaningful look before Angeal spoke again. "We're just worried, Gen. You're not yourself lately. What's wrong?"

Genesis's only response is a small sniffle.

Sephiroth and Angeal exchanged alarmed glances as Genesis, seemingly unable to contain his emotions any longer, began sobbing into his knees.

His nails dug into his legs, the sounds of genuine distress filling the room, a stark contrast to the confident persona they were accustomed to.

Sephiroth and Angeal, immediately concerned, move closer, unsure of how to comfort their friend who now seemed so vulnerable, unraveling like a wounded child.

"Genesis," Angeal whispers softly, kneeling down beside his chair. Sephiroth does the same on the opposite side.

The room is filled with a heavy silence, broken only by Genesis's deep sobs. Angeal gently places a hand on his friend's shoulder, while Sephiroth works to remove Genesis's fingers from his knees before he can harm himself.

He was still crying when he leaned over and hugged Sephiroth, burying his face in his neck. Sephiroth responded with a gentle embrace, holding him close. The three of them found themselves on the floor. While Sephiroth held him, Angeal shushed Genesis reassuringly, his soothing words accompanied by the comforting gesture of carding his fingers through Genesis's hair.

"You're okay," Angeal whispered, his tone reminiscent of how one would speak to a child. "We're here now. If you want to tell us what's wrong, we're here for you."

Sephiroth frowned, stroking his friend's back. "If you don't want to tell us anything, that's fine too."

Tears streamed down Genesis's face as he poured out his frustration. "I can't take it anymore. Everything I write comes out wrong. I've written this damn article fifteen times now, and I can't get it right. I can't do anything right. Ever!"

Angeal nudged him gently. "Gen, you're very tired right now. You need to take a break from writing this and come back to it later."

"Taking a break won't fix me!" Genesis snapped his despair palpable as angry tears steamed down his face.

Angeal fell silent, unsure of how to respond.

Sephiroth was quick to jump in. "You don't need to be fixed. You're perfect the way you are."

"Easier for you to say!" Genesis snapped back. "There isn't a single flaw that graces your being, is there, Sephiroth? Everything you do is perfect. I thought writing and literature were the things I had over everyone, but I can't even do that right."

Now Sephiroth was the speechless one, looking to Angeal for help. Angeal, in turn, sensed the weight of their friend's struggles. "Genesis, is this how you've been feeling? Like you're not good enough?"

"It's not a feeling, Angeal, it's just what I am," Genesis confessed, vulnerability clear in his tone. "And I'm tired of it. I really am. I'm tired of not being enough, tired of competing with everyone who I think is better than me. I'm sick of thinking everyone is better than me. I'm exhausted."

After a moment's hesitation where not even Angeal knew what to say, Sephiroth tentively found the words.

"If you are tired of yourself, are you tired of lighting up every room you enter?" He asked earnestly, managing a small smile as he wiped a stray tear from Genesis's cheek.

Angeal nodded with a smile. "Are you tired of always knowing just what to say to make us feel better?"

Sephiroth continued. "You must be tired of being the bravest man I know, and not to mention the one I admire the most."

Genesis looked at him, wide-eyed, as Sephiroth smiled and rubbed his back.

Angeal chimed in, flicking a stray lock of hair from Genesis's eyes. "In that case, certainly you're tired of being the most skilled mage this program has ever had. And you must be tired of being one of the most accomplished scholars in your field."

Sephiroth shrugged gently. "And since you're sick of being Genesis, that means you're sick of being our best friend."

"Our one-of-a-kind, necessary half," Angeal added.

Sephiroth nodded. "Our equal."

Finally, Genesis sighed, defeated. "Well, when you say things like that, I look stupid."

Angeal met his gaze with a mix of frustration and, surprisingly, a laugh. "Gen, you're not incapable of looking stupid. In fact, you say stupid shit for most of the time you're alive."

Genesis's shoulders slumped.

"But," Angeal added, "you are fundamentally one of a kind. A rare, beautiful person inside and out." He frowned, looking genuinely hurt. "I hate that you don't see that."

Sephiroth leaned them both against the desk, still hugging him. "I can somewhat understand the supposed envy, Genesis, but not the competition. There is no competing with me, Genesis."

Genesis rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, Seph."

Sephiroth laughed. "I mean because you're my equal. You're a piece of me, Genesis, that I did not know was missing before I met you. Both of you. Where I would be without you and Angeal in my life... is not something I enjoy thinking about."

"Really?" Genesis looked up.

Sephiroth nodded, giving hima reassuring smile.

"Really."

Genesis looked a bit brighter as his sniffles began to subside.

"And about the article, Gen," Angeal said, continuing to stroke his hair. "If there's anyone who can do it, it's you. You're the artistically gifted one out of the three of us, and the magazine picked you because they know that you're the best at what you do. If the words don't sound right now, that's okay. How long do you have to turn it in?"

"Four days," Genesis replied quietly.

Sephiroth squeezed his shoulder. "Four days is more than enough time to edit what you have. Angeal and I will help you."

Genesis looked surprised. "You will?"

"Duh," Angeal said with a smirk. "But first, we're going back to your place."

"What? Why?" Genesis inquired. Sephiroth gently pulled him off, and Angeal began to lift him up.

"I'm going to draw you a bath." Angeal wrapped his arm around Genesis. "And Sephiroth is going to order a lot of takeout."

"Copy." Sephiroth also wrapped an arm around Genesis.

"Then, you're going to sleep for at least a day. We'll tell Lazard you're taking the day off tomorrow," Angeal continued.

Sephiroth hummed. "Perhaps we can stay over. To make sure you'll actually be sleeping and not binge-watching TV."

"That sounds like a plan!" Angeal agreed.

Genesis faltered, his legs nearly giving out as his heart swelled. He choked one last cry, pulling them both into a tight hug, tears streaming down his face. Angeal and Sephiroth squeezed him right, taking advantage of how they towered over him to completely encase him in warmth.

"Thank you," Genesis whispered. "I don't deserve you two."

Sephiroth felt a tear roll down his cheek. He looked up, meeting Angeal's equally glassy eyes before whispering:

"What are friends for?"

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #writing #genesis rhapsodos headcanons

[b4ts1e]

▀▄▀▄▀▄Kittycat Comfort▄▀▄▀▄▀(𝚐𝚗!𝙼𝙲)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍: 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚗 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍-𝙲𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝚊𝚗 𝙳𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚙𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝙲

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝:

This specific ask I had attempted to do ages ago- but felt like it needed to be taken care of delicately. I did a bunch of research in my spare time, looking into different forms of chronic pains and how it affects the people with them. I hope that those who have chronic pain find some comfort from this, as well as people who just love Shaun. ^^

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

As MC layed in bed, almost silent groans and whimpers of pain escaped them. Every hint of light and sound sent harsh pangs through their skull. The vibrations, no matter how small, causing their vision to shake as tears formed at the corners of their eyes and getting soaked up by the black out blindfold they had on.

Chronic migraines- it was something passed down to them through their family line, a trait from their mother's side and it something that they'd always had to deal with even as a child. Ian used to help with them before he left for college- but this time he was the one to cause it, with Shaun being the only one around able to help his friend.

Unfornately though, Shaun hadn't been exactly...helpful. Currently he resided in the living room, shouting at MC's phone- more over shouting at Ian through the phone.

The ginger's desperate attempts to rekindle his old flame with MC turning out fruitless, no matter how much he begged for another chance. MC's still bleeding heart causing them to feel overwhelming amounts of guilt and stress for rejecting and ignoring the one person they had since childhood- but it was for the better. He cheated on them, after all.

Moonpie, being the sweet angel she is, was gently kneeding MC's chest- trying to provide even the smallest bit of relief to the aches rushing through them. Their noise canceling headphones were probably on the coffee table in the living room where Shaun was going off, so they were unattainable at this moment.

The lack of light was helping a little, but hearing the flim director shout through the bedroom door with his voice bouncing off the apartment walls- it made them feel like their eyes and brain were vibrating within their skull just behind their eyelids.

As if it couldn't get any worse, their joints ached just as badly- another chronic ailment they indured due to standing up for Ian throughout their school years, taking the beatings and getting into fights in his stead. Which made it really easy for them to pin the blame on him even further- but chose not too. They made the decision to stand up for him, so they paid the price for being so ignorant to think that the bullies wouldn't try to get back at them afterwards.

When the shouting faded out, MC let out a silent sigh of relief- the vibrations calming down slowly, still present but not as bad. Moonpie took notice at the difference in comfort immediately- carefully laying down and putting her small gray head underneath their chin, a reminder that she was there despite them both being blind at the moment. "You really are a little angel Moonie" they whispered softly, feeling the cat purr softly in response as if understanding their words.

(𝙼𝙲'𝚜 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎)

A soft creaking could be heard from the room's door, followed but the smell of peppermint tea- and careful footsteps crossing the room. The soft thud of the mug hitting the nightstand made me jump softly, reaching up carefully to pick Moonpie off of my chest and set her in my lap so I could sit up.

More shuffling was heard before the curtains were drawn closed, Shaun might've been new to this- but he must've done research. Or maybe Ian told him what to do before the call ended? With the curtains now closed, I carefully reached up to lift the blindfold off so I could let my eyes adjust to the wider vast of darkness.

As my eyes adjusted I saw and felt Shaun sit at the edge of the bed with a notebook, one dedicated for times like this when too much sound would be too much for me to handle. The notebook light was turned on, adjusted to only show the paper and not reflect into my eyes. Carefully I grabbed for the mug he had brought me, taking a slow sip of the hot beverage- the caffiene and strong peppermint smell taking my mind off the thrumming in my skull slightly.

The note book was turned towards me, messy text written on it: 'Sorry about all the yelling- I don't know how you put up with him for so long. Is the tea good? Should I get you an icepack? Run you a warm, candle lit bath?'

I smile softly, putting my mug down and taking the pen from him and writing a quick reply- circling the option for a bath as well. 'The tea is perfect, thank you. No icepack, too cold but a cool towel will do wonders during that bath. My eyes feel like they're on fire right now. lol'

I could see him nod and get up quickly and as quietly as he could manage, he leaves the room- careful to let as little light through the door as possible. I put the notebook on the nightstand and retake my mug of tea, enjoying it's bittersweetness as it soothed the aches a bit warmed me from the inside out. Through the wall I could hear the bath start, and Shaun talking to himself as he looked through cabinets to find everything he'd need.

Moonpie sat up from my lap with a stretch, jumping off me to the floor- she's gotten very familiar with the apartment's lay out despite the relatively short three weeks she's been here. She's a very smart cat, doesn't let her lack of sight limit her- I'm almost envious of her. Almost. With her on the ground now, I carefully got up- cup in hand as I approached door cautious to not accidentally step on the small cat.

I carefully open the door, bracing myself for the light- but finding there to be none. Had he turned off the lights and closed the curtains as soon as he left? Not even Ian had been done that- mainly cause he forgot too but whatever. I have to get him off my mind before his presence there make migraine worse. It's relieving that Shaun hadn't made ginger tea, I probably wouldn't have been able to stomach it.

I carefully walked to the bathroom despite the aches in my joints, Moonpie following close behind- her small footsteps and gentle purrs being the only thing letting me know she was indeed there. Once I entered the room Shaun looked back at me shocked, before he whispered as soft as he could manage. "You should've waited in the room- I would've carried you." he says standing up, after placing the final candle. The gentle fire's light not stinging my eyes as much as the sun or artifical ones do.

"Oh yeah? You gonna strip me too Cofer?" I tease softly before shooing him softly while putting my mug on the back of the toilet. "Now get out for a bit, I'm gonna get in." I said, he quickly followed the order- taking Moonpie out with him, her letting out a meow that sounded like a complaint somehow.

Slowly I removed my clothes from earlier- the fabric feeling too constricting at the moment before slipping into the bath, a dense layer of bubbles over the top making it impossible to see into the water. The warm water soothed my joints, taking away all gravity and pressure that made them ache for the moment. Under the waters, I massaged my main joint locations my elbows, knees, wrists, and ankles. A soft knock rang through the bathroom.

"It's safe." I whisper, leaning back into the tub- bubbles coming up to my neck. Shaun slips in carrying a large bowl and a soft hand towel, Moonpie hot on his tail. "Here's the ice water for the towel, I'll wet it for you. Do you want me to stay here with you, or would you rather be alone?" he asked delicately, kneeling down before the tub- putting the bowl on the toilet as he put the towel into the water and rung it out as much as possible and refolded it.

Carefully he reached over and put it over my forehead and eyes, careful to not put it over my nose. I leaned my head back against the tub so the towel would stay on. "You can and Moony can stay if you'd like, I don't mind- not like you can see past the bubbles anyways." I reply softly with a short chuckle.

He hums softly and shuffling could be heard, sitting down with his back to the wall most likely. "Why don't you just block him?" he asked softly, a meow attesting to his question. "I'd feel bad...besides- he's one of the few things left from my childhood Shaun. I need time to heal before I make any rash decisions." I explained softly with a sigh.

With a huff he groans lightly, "Fiiine- guess I'll just have to be here for you then. Make sure you don't do anything stupid on your own." he teased, making me laugh softly. "Thank you Shaun." I say with a smile.

"Anytime MC. Anytime."

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,512

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sdj mc #shaun durand cofer #ian duff #chronic pain #reqs open #coms open #writing #ABatsie-Writes

[comfortqueenie]

In honor of @dontfeeltoohot’s BIRTHDAY, I decided to go out on a limb and make my tumblr debut. I’ve been lurking in the shadows reading everybody’s Steddie content (and obsessing over it), and though I’m nervous, I wanted to share this fic and see if y’all liked it! I wrote this a couple months ago, and have been agonizing over sharing it because you all have set the bar SO HIGH?!?!?? That being said, I thought today would be the perfect day to share a little over 2.6k of early Steddie. I mean, really early.

From the bottom of my heart- I hope you all enjoy!

_____________________________________________

“Absolutely not.”

“Steve…”

“It’s out of the question, Nance. We all need to stick together; it’s too dangerous.”

Nancy followed Steve to a corner, both of them exchanging frustrated half-whispers and erratically making use of what little space was available to them in the boathouse. Eddie, Robin, and the kids all watched with slight amusement.

“Well, what do you suppose we do with him?” She punctuated her pause with an emphatic noise and crossed her arms. “He’s a wanted suspect for a high-profile murder case. We can’t just saunter into town with a fugitive!”

“He’s gotten by just fine these past couple of days.” Steve looked at Eddie Munson out of the corner of his eye and shook himself out of his thoughts before they could begin. “Besides, why am I always the one who has to stay behind?”

“Because!” Nancy cupped her cheeks in stress.

“Because, what?” Steve bit at his words. The two of them completely stilled.

“Steve.” Nancy began calmly, lowering her hands from her face and folding them neatly in front of her torso. “We have a very specific itinerary that requires a very specific order and a very specific set of skills. Your skill set will better serve us here.”

“Being the babysitter?” Steve chuckled, defensively.

“Protecting. Taking care of things. Taking care of people.” Steve glanced at Eddie and the kids. Eddie and Dustin were sharing mumbled conversation, and Max was kicking dirt around.

He sighed at that.

“It’s a compliment, Steve.” She meant that.

Steve silently shook his head in thought and pinched the bridge of his nose before raising that same hand defeatedly.

“Nance, I really don’t know wh-“

“Please.”

That stopped Steve in his tracks. He froze at the abrupt tonal shift for a moment, before putting his hand at his side.

“Please, just trust me on this.” Nancy continued, pleading. She didn’t want to offer an explanation. They both gazed at each other with a softness that had lacked mere moments before. One look into those brown doe eyes never failed to completely wreck Steve’s constitution- even now, when they’d both moved on.

Steve blinked, quickly ruffling at his hair in empty frustration.

He didn’t need an explanation.

“…Jesus Christ.” Steve rubbed at the muscles in his face, muffling his voice. He righted himself. “Fine. Keep me updated, though. Seriously. I’ll have the walkie ready.”

“Deal. Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile and turned to take off.

“Don’t make me regret it… alright?” He caught her by the forearm and made eye contact with her.

“We’ll be quick.” She nodded reassuringly.

In a blur, she took the remaining members of the party out of the shed closing the doors behind her. Steve stood facing the door, massaging his head with a worried sigh.

“So…”

Steve would have jumped out of his skin if he hadn’t become keenly numb to surprises. He turned around to be face to face with Hawkin’s most wanted. Eddie Munson. Clothes dusty, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and an unattainable combination of chaos and neutrality.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, King Steve.” A devilish grin spread across Eddie’s face.

“First time for everything, pal.” Steve moved to sit in a makeshift chair in the center of the room, picking up a catalog for the local hardware store from the floor on the way. Normally he would make an effort to disguise his disdain, but right now, he was just pissed. “I’m assuming you’re alright with comfortable silence?”

Eddie had a way of making eye contact that really took a person out- as if the other man was looking for something within Steve that he couldn’t find. Still, he was met with the same smirk.

“Comfortable silence is my middle name.”

Steve bitterly laughed at the fallacy within that statement.

“Awesome.”

———————

Eddie and Steve basked in that ‘comfortable’ silence for a considerable amount of time. Eddie paced, understandably, trying to turn his attention to a myriad of things that didn’t deserve it. Steve did feel a pang of sympathy. If he were in Eddie’s shoes, he’d probably be just as erratic- if not more so. The guy was honestly handling it pretty well.

Not to mention, Eddie and Steve had a specific history. Steve was never unkind to him, but he also wouldn’t have dared to blink an eye in his direction for the sake of his own reputation. His friends, on the other hand, were absolutely terrible to Eddie. Steve always felt guilty seeing him in the halls.

There was a particular occasion wherein Tommy shoved Eddie to the ground so hard he hit his head. That was the one time he had seen Munson’s facade crack. Steve hung back until the rest of them were far enough away, and wordlessly helped Eddie to his feet. He cringed now, remembering that he waited. Now, Steve was here to protect him. It was painfully ironic. Even worse- Eddie was in far deeper than that day in the halls.

Steve closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. He did have a bit of a headache. Maybe being able to take a quick rest from the constant moving would be nice. Nance, Rob, and the kids could all handle themselves. It would be fine. He stretched his neck, took a deep breath, and gently shut his eyes. He needed a break. For a short time, anyway.

“Hih-nxt!”

Steve immediately opened his eyes and turned his vision to the muffled sound. While he could tell it was a sneeze, it was so quiet he raised an eyebrow in disbelief when he saw Eddie’s face buried in his shirt. As if to confirm, Eddie’s body tensed and wracked with a second stifle.

“HXN-tcht!”

It was certainly a gentler sneeze than what he expected from Eddie Munson: King of the Satanic Panic. He watched as Eddie pulled his face from his shirt, and cleared his throat.

“…Bless you.” He murmured, remembering his manners, and turned his attention back to the dirtied catalog.

The itch temporarily subsided, and Eddie was grateful to find Steve unphased by the quick fit. In fact, Harrington seemed to be trying not to look at him. He knocked himself out of his silent observance.

“Thanks.” Eddie sniffled.

Steve nodded absently in response.

————————————————————————

“H-huh…”

Steve clenched his jaw and turned his eyes to Eddie. A couple of sneezes had morphed into something far worse over the past twenty minutes. The other man looked miserable. Eddie kept reaching to itch his eyes, and his nose, and clearing his throat was getting more painful with every fit. Steve watched worriedly as Eddie’s nose twitched with hitching breaths. It was getting so helpless, Steve nearly rose to assist the poor guy. Before he could, Eddie pitched forward into the collar of his jacket.

“Ugh.. hih! H-hih.. HIT-chuh!”

Steve frowned. Each sneeze was getting harsher. Eddie slumped against the workbench with a huff, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He moved them up and down aggressively in an attempt to relieve the constant itch.

Steve put his magazine down and planted both feet on the floor. He leaned forward with clasped hands, resting his elbows on his legs. It was too frequent to write off as an arbitrary tickle at this point. Something was wrong.

“You okay, man?” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle as Eddie met his eyes with a stony gaze.

“Aggressively okay. Actually, I’m wonderfully okay given the circumstances.” Eddie reassured Steve with a smirk and a nonchalant crossing of his legs. “Why?”

“Well, you don’t sound aggressively okay.” Eddie took a hand to his right eye, scrubbing it with discomfort. Steve leaned back in his chair, cocking an eyebrow. “Got a cold, or something?”

Eddie was impressed. People could say what they wanted about the guy, but he was actually pretty… gentle? He had a specific way of perceiving and being inquisitive that subtly disarmed a person. Eddie couldn’t tell if it was out of a general nonchalant-ness, or if it was something Steve had practiced. He was, like, weirdly good at it. He understood why he was known for his charm, now. He looked back at Steve and shook his head.

“Nah, I think it’s just something in the air. Super bad allergies. To like- everything.” Eddie resigned, surprising Steve, with a wave of the hand and an aggressive rub to the nose. “What I wouldn’t give to have remembered my Claritin, or even one goddamn tissue.” He gestured at the sky.

“You get allergies in November?” Steve asked in disbelief, cocking his eyebrow.

“Every day of every month, sweetheart.” Eddie tilted his head with a devilish smile. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a black bandana, holding it in the air. He continued. “Contrary to popular belief, this is not a stylistic choice. Unfortunately, it would just make things worse. Not to mention, she’s been put to work these past couple of days.” He tucked it back in his pocket.

“Well, Christ. No wonder you’re sneezing.” Steve gestured around them. The surface area of the shed was coated in dust. Not to mention dirt, mold, and other miscellaneous debris. It was an allergy sufferer's nightmare. Steve let out an empathetic wince. “You must be miserable.”

“Honestly, it’s b-been.. hih..” Eddie’s breath hitched, and he pressed his elbow tightly to his face. “Huh-PTCHT! Ugh… excuse me. It’s been the least of my worries.”

Steve paused and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Bless you.” He sighed. Steve wished he could think of a better thing to say.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Eddie waved him off and wiped at his nose poignantly. Steve thought for a moment, before giving in. It was the least he could do.

“Well, here…” Steve dug into his back pocket now, as he stood to meet Eddie at the workbench he was leaning against. Avoiding eye contact with Eddie, he pulled out a neatly folded plaid handkerchief. “You can borrow this. I never use it, anyway.”

Eddie locked eyes with Steve, incredulously. Steve clocked Eddie's discomfort and walked towards him with the handkerchief held out. Eddie remained still as if weighing his options. Steve rolled his eyes, casually grabbed Eddie’s wrist, and pressed the handkerchief into his hand with a nearly imperceptible squeeze. Steve gently smiled, and then gave Eddie a firm nod that clearly meant ‘Blow your fucking nose,’ before looking at his watch to give the poor guy some privacy.

Eddie, taken aback, reluctantly turned away from Steve and gave a couple of soft blows that already began to relieve some of the building pressure in his sinuses.

“Thank you.” Eddie uttered, with a groan of relief.

Dislodging the mounting congestion did, however, make that itch a bit stronger.

“Huh-GNT! H-huh.. hh.. Hi-ptCHxt! Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus Christ is right.” Steve was exhausted just watching the guy. That had to hurt. One hand on his hip, the other raised and clapping Eddie on the back sympathetically. “I mean- shit, Munson. That’s some allergy.”

“You should see me when ragweed happens.” Eddie gave a cock of an eyebrow and a smirk. He rotated to make eye contact with Steve, handkerchief still pressed tightly against his sore nose.

“When ragweed happens?” Steve chuckled, raising an eyebrow back.

“Oh, it happens alright. Catastrophic. Nuclear, some would say.” Eddie folded the handkerchief in half, pushing and prodding gently at his nose with the corner. God, his smile. Steve could see now that the handkerchief was out of the way. There was something so real about it. If he were having a legitimate allergy attack, there wouldn’t be a genuine smile on his face. And yet, Eddie’s eyes didn’t betray him. He was somehow genuinely smiling, still. Well, until his face crumbled once again. Steve watched intently as his smile faded only slightly. Eyes fluttering, and nose twitching, Eddie turned over his shoulder away from Steve.

“HIH-xncht!” Caught in his elbow this time. Eddie flinched. Steve mumbled a blessing that oozed pity.

Eddie made direct eye contact with Steve, slightly taken aback by the fact that the other man seemed to be peering into his soul. He paused for a moment, and for the first time ever, Steve saw a hint of vulnerability seeping through the well-built facade of Eddie Munson.

“Sorry about this, man…” Eddie gave a soft smile that could only signify embarrassment. He gave a quick rub to his nose, and broke eye contact. He looked defeated. Steve felt a pang in heart. Poor thing.

Steve’s eyebrows knit together as he frowned, and gently shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I feel for you, man, really. That sounds like it hurts.” He meant that, truly. Steve couldn’t begin to imagine what Eddie was going through. He was burning the candle at both ends.

“Hixt-choo!” Eddie muffled a stifle into the handkerchief, groaning as if to prove Steve’s point.

“Bless you.” Steve was sure to say that this time. Any ounce of comfort he could offer to the struggling musician, he would. “You know, if you didn’t hold them back like that, they probably wouldn’t hurt so much...”

“Hih-ngtch!”

Eddie stifled another sneeze into his elbow, almost as if it were a response. Steve shot him a look of exasperation. Eddie shrugged in apology.

“Force of habit.” That was met with a small tilt of the head from Steve. Eddie didn’t continue. Steve didn’t push.

“Maybe I should see if Robin or Nance can grab some meds for you or something?” Steve offered.

“I would hate to put a dent in the mission… huh.. Huh-chiew!”

“Better.” Steve made eye contact with Eddie as he brought his face out of the handkerchief, noting that he hadn’t stifled this time. “…and bless you.”

“Don’t look so worried, Harrington.” Eddie began, in an attempt to ease Steve. He really did seem worried.

“Eddie.” Steve interjected softly. He spoke slowly and carefully. “Just let me help you, man… haven’t the past couple days been hard enough?”

Eddie wavered, staring into Steve’s worried gaze for a couple too many seconds. He chuckled, which made Steve raise an eyebrow. Eddie laughed harder at that.

“I’m serious, man. You’ve gotta calm this down before it gets worse.” Steve insisted, partially frustrated at Eddie’s stubbornness.

“No, no, sorry. It’s just, I never would have guessed. I mean, never would have guessed…” Eddie swiped at his nose, and grinned brightly. “Steve Harrington and I would be having a conversation. Let alone, one so… tender.”

There it was. That smirk. Steve couldn’t help but mirror it.

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve crossed his arms and murmured. “Don’t get used to it, Munson.” The smirk remained.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pretty boy.” Eddie winked and continued as he walked away from Steve, still facing him. “In the meantime, I’d rather die than stay in this mother-fucking dustbin of a shed. I’m going to get some fresh air, and you’re going to let me for at least a couple of seconds before you drag me back in here-“

Eddie punctuated that sentence with rapid delivery and quickly sprinted out of the shed before Steve could stop him. Rather than going after him immediately, the brunette simply chuckled. He deserved a minute or two of sunshine. In the meantime, he pulled the walkie out of his pocket and to his mouth. Steve cleared his throat.

“Nance. Do you copy?”

“We copy, Steve. Over.” Dustin’s voice peered through shortly thereafter.

“Hey, man. Do me a favor, and grab me some Claritin? High strength, if they have it. The dust here is killing me…” A pause rang out before Steve rolled his eyes. “Over.”

“Copy that. Claritin, high strength. Over and out.”

“Thanks. Out.”

Steve retracted the antenna and spun the walkie-talkie in his hand with a satisfied smile. Hooking the device on his belt, he took a deep breath, and prepared to wrangle Eddie Munson. Always the goddamn babysitter.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, after all.

#snzblr #snzfic #stsnz

[reincarnatedonthefirst]

I just got off the phone with Derrick. We had a pretty good conversation.

I found out that he and I are still in the same city because he hasn’t left for his next work assignment yet… But my period started Friday and I doubt it will be gone before he leaves (I think he’s leaving next Saturday). I was supposed to leave and go back to my out-of-state rental property on Thursday but if I can make some money off him before I leave, I’ll gladly stay here a few more days.

I miss him anyway…

But I’ve been having another embarrassing feminine problem. I mentioned it before. The yeast infection hadn’t gone away so I got checked out at the doc’s. She ran all the necessary tests, CONFIRMED the yeast infection but I also have BV!!! AAAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!

I have no idea how or why the BV happened. My best guess is that the stress from working on the rental property is causing an imbalance… But I really don’t know…

Anyway, I doubt I can make BOTH of these infections go away before I see him.

And that sucks because A) I miss him and B) I need the damn money!

*sigh*

One other interesting thing. I’ve noticed that Derrick doesn’t idealize me as much as he used to. I don’t think he sees me as an unattainable high end goddess escort anymore. I wonder if I’ve ruined the fantasy by… well, being myself. I’m ultra capable, very smart, not afraid to get my hands dirty, and a little goofy… That does not typically fit the profile of a high end escort. And I miss having him look at me that way. I should have held back all this time we’ve been getting to know each other. But I don’t like pretending to be someone else. It’s WAY to much work for me!

The upside to being myself is that I’m pretty sure he still appreciates me and actually likes my personality. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to get to know me all THAT much. He just likes having someone listen to him. And that, I do very well…

I guess I’m just feeling very insecure about having torn down the image that he built up of me… And after that image is gone, I think it’s really hard to get it back… I’m going to try, though.

#me #Derrick

[vogelschadel]

@danishlxw cont. from X

Each word gripped his heart. Squeezing it relentlessly, and yet within the discomfort Magnus found comfort. The man needn’t chip away and hide his desire for that which seemed unattainable; the space Gilbert built gave no reason for Magnus’ self-destructive ways. But that’d be too easy if Magnus allowed himself to fully relax. If it were even possible. He couldn’t just pour his heart out, no matter how soft this turned out. A tongue always twisted into a tight knot; keeping delicate words out of ear.

Instead, Magnus breathed in his tension, and what exhaled threatened to ruin and scare Gilbert out if hadn’t been listening to himself speak into a tight spot. “I can’t force you to leave, so--” he never did finish that unfinished careless thought. Too often did his words strangle others in a suffocating stress. He hushed up quickly, and held his breath till his lungs ached; a reminder too be more careful.   “Anyways,” he proceeded with care, “... Thanks.”

As non-threatening as possible, Gilbert spoke in a hushed voice, calm and unwavering. "You can if you want to,'' he assured nonchalantly, meaning each word. "I'll leave if you want me to." But he could tell Magnus didn't really want that. Gilbert didn't want that either, didn't want to leave Magnus like this. It almost hurt to look at him so fragile, even though melancholy always lurked just under his surface.

As the Dane backtracked and thanked him, Gilbert exhaled a small rattling sigh of relief. At the very least Magnus was conscious of his own state. "You stayed with me that one time. So it's fair," he assured, downplaying his need to remain right here. With him. He pet the bed they were sitting on and gave Magnus' shoulder a quick squeeze. "It's late, let's turn in. Unless- do ya need something? Take night meds? Thirsty?"

#ic #danishlxw #(Denmark.) #aaahhhhh Magnussss!!!!! #no fear #you've acquired a legitimate nurse #soft

[things-we-cant-say]

pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.

#wayv ten #ten imagines #wayv smut #ten scenarios #ten x reader #ten smut #nct scenarios #ten oneshot #wayv imagines #woc reader #wayv ten imagines #ten lee #wayv au #nct au

[fandomness--randomness]

Nerves {Jean Kirschtein x Fem!Reader} Modern/Highschool AU!

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Jean's nervous to tell you about his feelings, but after a stressful day of nagging from his friends - he finally gets the courage to confess.

Playlist: Him and Hym (from banana fish)

Tags: @coltsbitch I hope you like it uwu

“You’re staring Jean-booooy!” Sasha teased, dragging an elbow into Jean’s ribs.

The brunette let out a grunt at the sudden intrusion and sent a glare towards the girl. “The fuck was that for?” He complained. Jean lightly shoved Sasha away as he rubbed at his now sore torso.

Sasha chuckled. Rolling her eyes as she put her head in her hands, she said, “you were staring at (Y/N). Again.” Across the table, Connie snickered into his hand.

Jean’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “No, I wasn’t. I just happened to be looking in her direction. That’s all.” Pushing away the lunch his mother had made him - which Sasha and Connie also made fun of - Jean leaned back in his chair.

Marco, the last and most sensible person of their friend group, cleared his throat. “Ah come on Jean,” he chastised, “they mean well. It’s just... well…” Marco trailed off for a second, a nervous hand coming up scratch at his freckled face. Jean raised an eyebrow at his longtime friend. “Well, you can be a bit obvious. And it hurts to watch sometimes.”

Much to the chagrin of Jean, Sasha and Connie were quick to join in once again.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Sasha exclaimed with a mouthful of fries. “We’re just trying to kick you into high gear and get you to finally ask (Y/N) out!”

Connie leaned forward onto the table. “Haven’t you been madly in love with her since you were like, what - 12?” He waved a lazy hand in the air.

A dark hue spread across Jean’s cheeks, which he quickly hid behind his hand. “Oh shut up ya baldy!” Jean yelled back. He groaned. “I’ve just known her since we were 12. As if I could fall in love with her at that age.”

Sasha let out a triumphant shriek. She practically climbed on top of the poor soccer player in her excitement. “You didn’t deny you love her!” She practically exclaimed to the entire cafeteria. Nearby tables went quiet and glanced their way.

“Shut up Sasha!” Jean retaliated, pushing her off of him. His blush had now reached far past his cheeks, decorating his ears in a pink hue.

Despite the anger radiating off of him, Sasha seemed unperturbed by her friend’s actions. Rather she seemed to get even happier. “Just go talk to her and ask her on a date already!” She said matter of factly before chomping on her slice of pizza.

Jean looked to Marco and Connie for help. As he expected, Connie agreed, saying something along the lines of finally getting with her and to stop acting like a lost puppy. But Marco! Instead of coming to his rescue, Marco simply nodded and agreed.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, Jean was the first to stand up and leave. In his anger and embarrassment he nearly forgot his lunchbox. He swiped it from Marco’s grasp without thanking him before stomping his way to his next class.

By the time he walked through the doorway of the chemistry class, his anger had dissipated and morphed into a mix of embarrassment and guilt at his actions.

“Stupid Sasha and Connie, trying to meddle in with my damn business. Damn Marco for not backing me up.” Jean grumbled as he sat on the stool.

A soft giggle to his left made him jump.

“Oh (Y/N)!” He said, his voice jumping an octave. He hadn’t even seen you as he ranted and raved under his breath.

“Hey Jean. It looks like you’ve had a bit of a rough day. Sasha and Connie being overbearing again?” You asked, moving a stray lock of hair from your face.

Jean gulped as your curious eyes stared up at him. He was always taller than most people his age, yet you made him feel like the smallest person in the world. You were - as cheesy as it was - different from the other girls in the school. At least to Jean. All the other girls at Paradis High, whether they were friends or strangers to Jean, had a level of unattainability. Some of them were for obvious reasons, such as Historia who practically had a bodyguard in the form of her butch girlfriend, but other reasons were much more transparent. Even if Jean did fantasize about bringing a girl on a date and being in a relationship - it always felt like some wacky dream.

But never with you. You always felt just a bit more physical, a bit more real to Jean. Maybe it was because of how comfortable you were with him or your constant curiosity that led to you getting into trouble that would have been easily avoidable (and sometimes dragging Jean down with you).

You were always just an arm’s distance away. A distance Jean didn’t dare cross, not at 12 years old and not at 17.

“Uh yeah, they were just getting on my ass about a girl. Marco wasn’t any help either, so I’m just a bit annoyed at them.” He finally responded, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blinked up at him for a moment before an expression of realization spread across your features like a wave. Excitedly, you grabbed onto his upper arm and pulled him down closer to you.

“Do you like a girl, Jean?!”

Jean thanked whatever mystical being out there that you had enough sense to whisper your conclusion to him, but then promptly cursed them out as you stared at him face to face. He could smell the mint you had after lunch fanning over his face.

Jean opened and closed his mouth quickly, unsure of how to respond, scared that if he spoke his voice would croak and falter.

Thankfully the chemistry teacher Dr. Hange walked in, earning everyone’s attention with a loud clap.

Letting go of Jean’s arm, you stood straight up in your chair and listened as Dr. Hange reviewed what today’s class would cover; but not before sending Jean a smirk.

Fidgeting with his fingers under the desk, Jean did his best to ignore your glances and overall presence, intent on willing the whole discussion about his crush out of existence. That is until you slid a small note to Jean’s side of the black desk. Scribbled in your clean handwriting was a request - no - an order.

You’re totally filling me in on this girl after school! I’m not taking no for an answer!

Jean sighed to himself, grimacing as your playful grin appeared at the edge of his vision.

“Jeeeaaan! Come on!” You whined, bouncing on his bed. “Why won’t you tell me who your crush is!”

Said boy let out a sigh as he dropped his book bag onto the floor next to his desk and all but collapsed into the gaming chair. Leaning his head back on the headrest, he answered in a taut voice. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Totally not because it’s you.” He thought.

You groaned in frustration, tossing and turning on his bed, inevitably ruining the nicely folded blankets. “Come on! I’ve known you since we were in middle school!”

Jean chuckled. “Yeah sure, if you count two kids bored out of their minds on family trips to the mountains only to never see each other until high school as knowing each other since middle school.”

Sitting up on the bed, you pouted at the brunette. “Damn. You really didn’t have to get specific about it.”

The laughter that bubbled out of Jean’s chest was uncontrollable. Doubling over in his chair, Jean finally looked at you for the first time since getting to his house. “Why shouldn’t I? When you showed up in the middle of last year and latched yourself onto me - everyone thought you were my secret girlfriend! Hell, even I was confused as to why you were practically glued to my arm.”

Jean continued to laugh, more to himself now. When his laughter finally fizzled away and his eyes were no longer clouded by tears, he sat back up in his chair - only to go rigid again.

You had pulled your legs into your chest and were staring away from Jean. The sharp glint of your eyes told Jean that he had pissed you off.

“A shit (Y/N), I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Taking a deep breath, your body relaxed against itself.

“I know, you big idiot. It’s just… you were my first real friend. Of course I got excited when we reunited years later.” You chuckled to yourself at the memory of spotting him in the middle of homeroom. The joy and relief you felt that day was tremendous.

Standing up, Jean walked over to the bed and sat next to you before falling against his plush covers with a dulled thump. He patted the bed. A silent invitation for you to lay next to him. You took it and laid next to him, staring at the ceiling in silence.

No words were spoken between the two of you for some time. This is how it went sometimes. The two of you didn’t need to talk constantly to keep the energy comfortable and flowing. Comforting silences were a rare thing to have.

The soft breathing and heat radiating off of Jean nearly had you falling asleep. That is until he spoke up, startling you awake.

“She’s really sweet ya know.” Jean could see you turn to him with a raised eyebrow out of his peripheral. “The girl I like. She’s really sweet. A little overbearing with her physical affection, but nothing crazy. She’s… people-smart. She knows when to start and stop.” Jean could feel you shift on the bed so that your head was level with his. He continued talking without thinking of the consequences. “She’s got a few unconventional hobbies and does stupid shit all the time. Had to stitch up her pinkie finger once because she cut it while exploring an abandoned house.” Jean’s own pinkie moved towards your hand, making contact with your own pinkie finger. He traced the raised scar. “She’s super smart too and is always working to get better for herself. And… well I’ve liked her for a while but I was always scared to face the feelings she gave me whenever we hang out. I didn’t want to accept them. It was odd. I was used to never having a shot with the people I liked. But you… you just seemed to shoot right into me without me even realizing it.”

Finally, Jean had the courage to look at you. Your cheeks were darkened with a deep blush and your eyes twinkled. Jean didn’t say anything. He waited for your response with bated breath. The two of you laid there on dark covers for what felt like an eternity.

“For fucks sake (Y/N). Ya gotta respond to me.” Jean choked out in a harsh whisper. His hand was trembling from the nerves.

“I can play a 2 hour soccer game without issue, but I can’t make a simple confession without shaking? What the hell Jean.” He thought bitterly.

As though life was breathed back into you - you took a deep breath.

Quick and sudden nods.

Jean furrowed his eyebrows.

Your hand inched its way into his.

Jean pushed himself up onto his elbow and leaned over you

Your gleaming eyes flashed to his lips and back up to his eyes.

A silent exchange of words.

Leaning forward, Jean let his forehead lightly knock against yours. “Can I kiss you.”

“Please.”

Slowly, Jean let his lips ghost over yours. Just barely touching. As though Jean was scared any harsh movements would make you break. You surged into the kiss, squeezing onto his hand still interlocked with yours.

Jean internally groaned, the taste of your minty tongue invading his senses. If he didn’t stop kissing you now he was going to go crazy.

Pulling back from your lips, he stared down at you. You chuckled nervously, fingers twitching.

“What? Am I that bad of a kisser?”

Jean shook his head quickly. “No way. You’re amazing. Just… just fucking relieved you feel the same way.”

You smiled up at him. “I mean, of course. You were my first friend. Only makes sense that you were my first love too.”

Bonus:

“Jean-boy, I made some sandwiches for you and (Y/N) to e- OH!”

“Ma! It’s not what it looks like!”

“I’m so sorry! I’ll leave you two alone. Make sure to use protection!”

A pillow thudded against the freshly closed door and fell to the floor in a sad lump.

“SHUT UP MA!”

#jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein scenarios #jean kirschtein x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #jean kirschtein fluff

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: heavy drinking, someones arm gets broken, also some very vague mentions of a shootout, reader is in denial about being in denial (so the usual pretty much)

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You thought it would just be one coffee. One simple mistake as a result of you being extra tired, or something like that. You’d give it to him, hear his stupid little remark meant to rile you up, and then it’d be done - it would never happen again. 

Here’s the thing, though: you kept making more. After that day, every morning when you woke up, you’d grab two coffee mugs and make one for the both of you - yours with extra cream, his straight black. You knew he liked to add a shot of whiskey to his, even though you pretended not to notice when he not-so-discreetly pulled his flask out. Whatever he needed to get through the day, you shrugged, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You certainly weren’t about to judge him for his drinking habits in light of your own less than stellar track record. 

Neither of you dared to mention it so far. You hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t: his little tease on that first day was barely enough to get under your skin though it had stuck to the back of your mind every morning you woke up. You’re not getting soft on him, are you?

Shaking your head furiously, you let out a low frustrated sigh as you moved to reach out for the bottle of wine next to you once more, flicking off the top and pouring almost a good half of the bottle’s contents into your glass. It was a Wednesday night but you didn’t much care - if the hangover was that bad the next morning, and it never usually was with a shiraz, you’d get some painkillers and get on with your day. The same thought as before repeated itself in your mind again, doing nothing short of vexing you further. Partially because you were worried it was true. Maybe you were getting soft on him. Maybe you weren’t as strong and stubborn as you thought if Jack Daniels had managed to worm his way back into your heart.

No. That couldn’t be it. You tossed your head back and indulged yourself in a rather large gulp of wine, letting the liquid rush down your throat in a desperate attempt to dilute the pitiful nonsense that had filled your head. What a ridiculous thought. You weren’t falling for Jack Daniels charm once more. No, you simply wouldn’t do that. You knew better than that. You knew that underneath that smooth facade was a flitting and emotionally unavailable man, the man who had broken your heart and made you suffer for what felt like evermore. You may have felt pity on him for his fall from grace, but anyone else would if they saw the state of him. Discarding the glass off to the side, you wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity of such an idea. Are you always this stupid with a wine-addled brain? 

Speaking of the devil, you heard his footsteps from up the stairs, taking you by surprise as you were certain that he was asleep by now. You crocked your head to the side, your eyes travelling up the stairwell to the small part of the landing that was in your immediate vision - you couldn’t catch a single sight of him. Shrugging to yourself, you returned to your almost empty glass of wine, feeling that familiar haze descend over your brain with every sip you took. This was fine. You could let yourself be swallowed by the alcohol, maybe even enjoy the fact that your nerves were loosened for just this once. If it could take all that shit away, then you’d gladly let it. And as for Jack? You’d continue on as you were: barely acknowledging his existence, and regarding him as nothing more than a ghost from your past. That’s what you wanted, right?

You’re lying to yourself and you know it.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you stared out into the space in front of you, your mind lost a million miles away while you were in complete and utter astonishment over those few words that had crossed your mind. Things were quiet, still, even peaceful in a way, only for a second anyhow. That was before the rush came, that incensed anger that flashed across your mind for barely a moment, settling down into something resembling vague annoyance, directed at none other than yourself. Where the hell did that come from? For god's sake, get a grip on yourself. Standing up abruptly, you didn’t even stumble as you advanced back over to the liquor cabinet, dropping to your knees and scanning the tops of the glistening glass bottles under the dim lamp light. Your eyes landed on the bourbon you had stashed at the back and you reached out for it, carefully lifting it above all the others despite your intoxicated state. Resting the bottle against the palm of your hand, you let your fingers trace the grooves in the molded glass, a small bit of hesitation working its way into your mind, hesitation that was swiftly kicked aside in favour of that pesky little buzz that danced around the back of your head, that stupid little crumb of self doubt that refused to fucking leave. 

Guess I’m gonna need a bottle of something stronger to kick this shit. 

___

He didn’t know why he kept watching you. You weren’t doing anything particularly notable - you’d decided to take one of the horses out for a ride, practicing vaulting and the like. He remembered you’d once told him that as a young kid that you’d entered a number of equestrian competitions, and even won a few - he’d seen the trophies gathering dust on the mantle and the cute photos of you posing with your chosen horse, Buttercup, as a child. You explained years ago that you’d stopped participating in competitions but still liked to take the horses out for a spin every once in a while as a way to relax and clear your head. As he watched you now, he could already see the stressors of the day melting away from your visage, leaving only a steely focused expression in its wake as you cleared another jump. 

It was the first time in weeks he’d seen you truly relaxed at all, or showing any sort of emotion other than your usual show of cheerfulness you splashed on for the customers, woven with a current of underlying stress and irritation. Seeing you like this couldn’t help but remind him of better times: you’d taken him out on the horses more than a couple of times when the two of you were together. Jack had always labelled himself as something of an animal lover, ever since he was a kid. He didn’t, and hadn’t, had any pets for a good ten years now though at some point long ago he wanted something similar to what you had - a nice ranch situated out in his home state of Kentucky with a bunch of animals and his family. That dream had seemed so close to him once that he could have sworn it would be a reality yet fate wasn’t so kind to him in that regard. The memory of it all alone hadn’t ceased to become any less painful to him: seeing the broadcast on the news of a shootout down at a local convenience store only to get the call moments later confirming what he’d already feared to have happened most. 

Not a day passed where he didn’t wish he could go back to a time before that day, where even the simple idea of having a family didn’t seem so foreign and unattainable. He felt himself grip onto the wooden bar of the veranda just a tad bit tighter the longer his thoughts fixated on it, though the sound of a piercing shriek immediately brought his attention back to you, his eyes darting around in a frenzy, determined to know what had caused you to cry out in agonising pain. Upon seeing your body lain flat on the ground he rushed forward, vaulting himself over the edge of the varanda and calling out your name. “Are you alright, sugar?” he shouted, throwing open the gate to the ring and racing over towards where you were lying. The faint sounds of you whimpering did nothing short of send him into panic mode, seeing how much it hurt you to move only adding to his worry. “I’m fine, I just...the dumb horse got spooked by something and bucked me off” you groaned, struggling to pull yourself up, leading you to let out another loud yelp when you tried to move your left arm.

Swooping in to catch you before you fell, Jack gently reached for your arm and pulled it towards him, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of the horrific fracture done to it. “Darlin’, don’t lie to me, you’re not fine. Arms are not meant to look like this!” he stressed, studying your eyes intensely, trying to gauge if you had some sort of a concussion. They were slightly glazed over, and your gaze kept wandering from him as if you were having trouble focusing. “How’s your head feelin’, sweetheart?”. 

“Kinda dazed. Hurts like a bitch as well” you grumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder slightly. Every bone in your body felt like it was screaming at you like some sort of symphony, the pain in your arm being the worst of all. Your vision had also become slightly blurry and kept splitting double every few seconds, only contributing to your general haziness. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, scattered around your brain and refusing to slow down. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and up into Jack’s arms, your head lolling slightly against his forearm as he carried you back up to the house. Running through your memory, you couldn’t really remember what had happened fully: you had just made another jump and were circling around the ring to gain speed for another when suddenly you were on the ground and your horse, Molly, was a few feet ahead of you. 

Jack brought you up to the varanda and laid you down on the bench, grabbing one of the old decorative throw pillows you had to rest your head on.“Stay here for a moment, I’m gonna get you some ice, then I’m gonna call an ambulance and get ya to an emergency room” he instructed before ducking back inside the house.

“Is that really necessary, Jack?” you shouted out after him, leading him to stick his head back out the door to look at you incredulously. “Sweetheart, your arm is broken and you're clearly concussed. I think the situation more than calls for it” he replied with a deadpan tone, disappearing back into your house to find you some ice. Resting your head back against the pillows, you turned to see Molly trotting around near the edge of the fenceline, acting as if she hadn’t just thrown you off her back for no apparent reason at all. 

“Yeah, just had to buck me off, didn’t ya? Thanks asshole!” you shouted out, doing your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in the side of your head and the dull ache from where your arm was rested. Thankfully, partially due to the concussion probably, it didn’t feel as bad as before, though at the same time you could have just simply become more tolerant of the pain. Not to say it didn’t still hurt like literal hell or that it was any less easy to take notice of. 

“Honeybee, I get you’re in pain but yelling at the horse isn’t doing anything” you heard Jack say to you as he made his entrance once more, holding a tea towel containing several large blocks of ice in his hand. Muttering out a small ‘thank you’, you took the towel in your hands and pressed it against the swell of your arm, letting out a small hiss the second you felt the sharp sting of the cold on your skin. “I know yelling at the horse does nothing, but it’s making me feel better” you grumbled. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Jack scoffed, subsequently choosing to ignore the sharp death glare you gave him after his flippant remark. “I’ve called an ambulance, they’ll be here to get you to a proper hospital in no time. You really had me worried there when I heard you scream”.

“Oh, so you do care about me after all” you jeered, your signature sarcastic edge seeping through your tone. You shifted slightly to try to position yourself up a little more so that you could face him properly yet as you moved a heavy sting of pain shot through you, causing you to yelp out a little and tense up in response. As if it were instinctual to him, Jack moved towards you and helped you settle back down. “Try not to move too much until the ambulance gets here” he directed. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you could have sworn his hand lingered on your forehead a second longer than it should have, his fingertips brushing against your skin and leaving a burning sensation in their wake, something that, shamefully so, made your heart skip a small beat. “Now, about me not caring - sugar, when are you gonna accept that no matter what happened between us that I still care about you as a person?” he asked. Shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, you settled on glaring back at him with a quick witted quip to combat him, because that’s all he was to you: an annoyance, a nuisance, a royal pain in the ass. You were doing him a favour by letting him stay with you. There was nothing more to this.

“Try never, asshole” you snapped, one note harsher than you originally intended. As usual whenever you bit back at his banter, Jack shrugged and rested back into the wall he was standing against. For once, though, you felt bad at snapping at him like that - there wasn’t any need for it, he was only trying to help. Not knowing if you could fully coax the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth, you settled on something less apologetic but still sort of the message across. “But...really, thank you. For, y’know, helping me out here” . 

Jack looked at you for a moment, somewhat taken aback at what you’d said before he softened a bit.“Of course, sugar. Call it returning the favour for taking care of me a couple of weeks back” he answered, giving you that sweet smile of his that hadn’t managed to unweave itself from those old memories. And for once, you allowed yourself to smile weakly in return.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #cross my heart #Kingsman #Kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #Pedro Pascal

[foreverwcnter]

cardigan / p.p

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

summary: “you thought i was dead?” after you go missing with no leads to what happened, you are presumed dead and peter writes letters addressed to you, to help with his grief

word count: 3k

requested: no

warnings: semi character death, heartbreaking angst :( , fluff

a/n: this is for @ariistotles​ lovely writing challenge! i am using prompt 9 for my fic and i hope you guys enjoy!

two days. forty-eight hours. two thousand eighty minutes. one hundred seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds. that’s how long you had been missing. the team of avengers, including desperate peter parker sat around a table, staring at the very little evidence they had of your disappearance. it was only two nights ago when you and peter had been cuddled in bed and you had left to go home. 

evidently, you never returned home. 

peter ran his hands through his hair with frustration, eyes bloodshot red from crying. he was terrified and guilty, knowing if he had just walked you home, he wouldn’t be staring at the picture of you on the screen in front of him.

“we have no leads,” sam wilson stated,” the only evidence is this cardigan.”  

peter knew you were wearing it when you left. he recognized the cute patches of stars scattered on the knitted sleeves and the oversized buttons along the ends. it was always so big on you, he didn’t think you would have bought it from that thrift store, but the moment you laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it. you had fixed up the holes and messed up seams, it looked like something someone would shove under a bed. but you took it into your care.

“she was wearing that after she left my apartment,” peter explained, voice cracking. the entire time he had been silent as they investigated your disappearance. “she almost forgot it but i reminded her.” 

peter took a glance at the cardigan, instantly taking notice of the blood-stained sleeves. 

“we have to find her,” he finally added, one tear slipping down his cheek. tony hadn’t spoken at all, and peter knew why. peter understood what it felt like to lose someone. there was a chance you’d be found again, but it was slim. you were just gone. 

the next few days were hell for peter. they hadn’t found anything and all he wanted to believe was that you were at least alive. everyone around him seemed to be giving up already. peter had even overheard tony talking with the other avengers, thinking that you weren’t alive and he’d have to plan a funeral. peter refused to give up, he couldn’t believe the idea that you were dead. there was only a glimmer of hope left in some of the avengers. every day that passed, the more likely it was that you were dead. it wasn’t until two months of searching, they finally gave in.

tony kept the funeral private. it took everything in peter to just crawl out of bed that early morning and may had to help him tie the tie for his suit. his hands trembled too much to get it straight. he didn’t want to believe you were gone, but by this point, he was giving up himself. everything at the funeral was dark, the opposite of what you were like. you always had the brightest of smiles, your hair would always smell like fresh daisies from a meadow. everyone who gathered around was silent, staring at an empty casket, watching it get lowered into the ground. 

peter found himself alone after the casket was six feet under and collapsed to his knees in front of the gravestone. tears openly fell down his face, as he stared at the name written on the stone. y/n stark. he wanted to stop making events like this so familiar. first his parents, then uncle ben. now you. the love of his life, the person he dreamed of marrying. some people see this as an unattainable fantasy because when you are young, they assume you know nothing. but peter was sure. you were supposed to be the one. his endgame. but you were gone. 

a hand tapped his shoulder revealing the familiar face of tony stark. seeing him made peter fall apart as tony pulled him into a tight embrace. peter finally let it all out. with his shoulders shaking with sobs and soft cries leaving his breathless lips, peter parker was finally showing his grief. 

grief was a fickle thing. it constantly changed. peter had been in such disbelief for the past months you were gone, but now he was trying to bargain with what happened. he gave his suit back to tony, he moved on from being spider-man, and tried living normally. he was trying to change himself for you. but it was hard. it took every amount of effort to bring himself out of his bedroom. the only thing that kept him going was the desire to do things you would want him to do. it didn’t take long for aunt may to take peter to a therapist. they could help him sort out the pain he was holding onto.

“tell me about her.”

“y/n was the perfect example of joy,” peter admitted with a desolate tone. “she was always looking to help anyone before herself. something she got from her dad. her hair always smelled amazing, like a garden almost. she liked to braid it, and stick flowers in it. y/n got the idea from tangled…” he paused, staring at the ground. he had planned a date before you went missing. he was going to take you to a lantern festival. where you could recreate the scene from tangled. peter knew how happy it would have made you. but you were gone. you’d never see the lanterns, you’d never live that dream.

“she had a cardigan… something she found at a thrift store, on the ground without a price tag. it had holes in the sleeves and she chose to patch them up with little stars. it was always too big on her, y/n always wore it with everything. i never saw her without it. she once forgot it when we left for a road trip, made me turn around to go get it for her but i was happy to,” a rare smile came onto peter’s face as he thought about the dimples on your cheek when he had put the cardigan around you. the smile faded,” it was the only thing they found when she went missing. it had blood on it and i know something bad happened.”

“i couldn’t stop it. i couldn’t save her.”

the woman in the chair across from him said nothing, just stared at peter as he avoided her gaze. after a couple moments, she began speaking,” you need to figure out a way to say goodbye to y/n. i understand how hard that may seem, but there are ways. i want you to write letters addressed to her. just start with something normal, you don’t have to address her death in the letter, just make it between you and her. the more you write these. the easier it’ll get to let go. “

peter stared at a blank piece of paper for hours that night. he didn’t know how to start. every time he picked up the pen his hand started shaking and he was too scared to write your name. with a frustrated groan, he jumped onto his bed, face buried in his hands. normally, peter would go to you to talk out his stress, to feel your arms around him but he couldn’t have that now. 

that’s when he took notice of your cardigan hung on the corner of his bed frame. he took it into his hands, letting out a sigh. it was the only thing he had left out you. the only part of you that was left behind. so peter put it around himself, pulling his arms into the sleeves. it felt like you had your arms around him again and gave him the boost he had been looking for. 

so he wrote:

my love y/n,  

i don’t want to talk about you being gone yet, just let me have this moment to tell you the things i didn’t say. you were perfect. you are still perfect. i know that sees unbelievable to you, but every moment i shared with you, i cherished like a child would cherish a new toy. 

except i never grew tired of you. you always came with new surprises. whether it was the time i thought you had never watched star wars and you admitted to being one of the biggest star wars nerds there is or the time i caught you crying to rom coms when we were friends, wishing you had that kind of romance. you were a hopeless romantic. mj said you were always looking for a disney prince of your own. i hope i was good enough to earn that title. i hope i gave you your dream love story. because every moment i spent with you was something exhilarating and i ever wanted to pass it up. 

 i just hope i was enough for you.

peter knew the letter was short, but he couldn’t bear to finish. tears marked the page with scratched out words and messy handwriting. he was supposed to write a letter every day. every day until he was able to say one word. goodbye. 

slowly he started getting there. very slowly. 

every day he wrote a new letter. they consistently got longer, but there were days it got short. he tried his best to avoid talking about you being gone. sometimes the letters were simple, saying i went to the grocery store for the first time in awhile. i saw your favorite snack and ended up buying it. i never liked it until now. i guess you influenced me so much.

there were harder days though. these days the paper would be stained with tears and may would come into his room and would find him crying. those letters always had the words “i miss you” and questioned why you had to go so soon. 

there was only one thing he always did when he was writing these letters. he was always wearing your cardigan. he even began wearing it just around the house or to school. may never failed to notice and would wash it for him to wear the next day when peter forgot. having the cardigan around him made him feel comfortable and safe. almost like you were right with him. he even wore it to his second visit with the therapist, four months after your disappearance 

“it’s getting easier to write the letters,” the brunette boy admitted, fiddling with the ends of the sleeves. “i’ve wrote so many already. it’s almost like i can still talk to her, even when she’s gone.” 

the woman smiled. “that’s good peter.”

“but remember, the goal isn’t to hold on, you have to let go. you have to say goodbye.” 

peter hated the sound of it. he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, he couldn’t imagine moving on from you because every day he still missed you more than anything. 

it took another six months for him to finally write a final letter. ten months after you had disappeared.

my love, y/n, 

this isn’t an easy one to write. these past few months have been hell but i’ve rolled with the punches. i just left flowers at your gravestone. chrysanthemums, your favorites. it’s always been hard seeing your name on that stone and not seeing you next to me.

i miss every inch of you, y/n. i miss the feeling of your lips on mine and the tender kisses you’d press on my neck. i miss watching you fall asleep, i miss running my hand over your back while you snored. i miss seeing your beautiful face, the one that never failed to make me smile. every time i see a star wars movie come on, i’m reminded of your constant rants about padmé and anakin’s romance and how badass all the women of star wars are. i even still think about the day i met you. we were just kids, and you pushed over some other little kids for me. i think that was the day i knew you were important. it only just now dawned on me.

and the best part about you was when i felt like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite. just like the one you used to always wear.

but i think the one thing i miss the most is just your voice. you always talked me to sleep on rough nights. it’s the same voice that got me through the trials of being a hero, the one that comforted me after hard patrols and nightmares. it was the one that sang ‘i can see the light’ from the lantern scene from tangled everytime we watched it. it’s the one i miss the most and i’d do anything to hear it again, y/n. 

but for now, it’s your turn to listen to me. and listen closely. i love you. you were my soulmate and i still think you are. i loved you then. i love you now. and i’ll love you forever. we’ll see each other again, because you always come back to me. you’re my angel. my love. my dream. my soulmate. my darling. the love of my life. we’re meant to be together. i know one day we’ll find each other. and when we do… i’ll never let go of you again. 

y/n stark, just do me a favor. keep on being you. wherever you are. i’ll keep on being me. i’ll carry on for you.

so now i just have to say one more word. one more word that isn’t forever because i know i’ll be with you. you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you. because loving you is like being drunk under a streetlight. it’s the thrill of living life and some kind of light near you. even without the light being right beside you. being in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. 

so here it is, y/n. here it is.

goodb- 

peter was interrupted as he wrote, a hard knock from the door of the apartment. for a second, he waited, but it came again. it sounded urgent by how heavy it was and how frantically the person was knocking. he stumbled out of the chair, leaving the open letter on his desk as he fumbled with the lock. once it opened, peter had begun thinking he was dreaming.

because the person standing in front of the door, was you. 

with his jaw slacking, peter rubbed his eyes trying to process what was in front of him. and to think he was about to write the word goodbye, and here you were, back from the dead. his eyes watered slightly as he opened his mouth to speak but no words came. he couldn’t comprehend the fact you were alive. “ y/n… no… how? how are you here? you were dead… this can’t be real.” everything hit him like an oncoming train, he was convinced he was dreaming or hallucinating. was this a test? was this testing him to see if he was actually prepared to say goodbye?

“you thought i was dead?” 

this was what brought peter back to reality. he fell to his knees so fast in front of you, the tears falling down without a doubt as sobs left his thin lips, the ones you used to kiss. everything from the past few months came pouring out. “you were dead. everyone gave up and i didn’t want to but i did. i gave up, i failed you. i did the one thing you told me not to do because i was weak. and i couldn’t hold myself together at your funeral…” you knelt down as he sobbed and choked out every word, pulling him to your chest. “i wanted you to be the one to help me, but you weren’t there. you weren’t here to hug me before and i tried holding on for you. i tried and i thought i was never going to get over it and move on and i never did. i never did, y/n ,because i love you and you are the only person who will be constant in my life even if you were to fall out of love.”

“and i wrote you letters. i wrote you so many letters. i was writing one… just before you came… it was the last one, y/n, the one where i was going to say goodbye and now here you are,” peter’s arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer.

“you don’t have to say goodbye anymore, pete,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before he finally got a clear look at you. you looked no different than before. you had a a few bruises here and there, but you were alive. peter couldn’t believe just how much time passed and you were still the embodiment of beauty in his eyes. 

a smile formed on his face, a dimple showing on his cheek,”i knew you’d come back to me.” 

with that, he pressed his lips against yours, a hand moving up to cup your cheek as yours moved to his hair, running your hands through the messy brown curls. your lips were soft, just like they used to be and they tasted just like your favorite cherry chapstick that you used to always use. peter relished in the tender moment, butterflies coming alive in his stomach as he pressed his other hand on the small of your back. you both pulled away gently, eyes still closed with foreheads resting against each other.

“i love you,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to the tip of peter’s nose.

he returned it with his own, murmuring,” i love you more.” 

his heart fluttered in the comfortable silence and the air still held the same amount of love and adoration for each other as it did before. peter never wanted to give it up and he never wanted to let it go. with the cardigan still wrapped around his shoulders and your arms around him, for the first time in months, peter finally remembered how it feels to be secure and safe. 

you both finally stood up, fingers interlocked and right before you both headed inside, you glanced at peter and asked with a laugh:

“is that my cardigan?”

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peter parker taglist — @myslightobsessions​

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[collecting-stories]

Hurricane - c. 07 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: Good times don’t last forever.

A/N: I finished the re-write and now I’m almost done this fic! I’m so excited!!

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“You look ridiculous,” Rafe piped up, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the hall mirror as you moved around in the bathroom. You’d run the shower long enough that the bathroom had let out a wave of steam when you finally opened the door, allowing the cool air of the hotel room to dry you so that you could put a face mask on. You were shimmery and purple but you’d looked more ridiculous before.  

“It’s a face mask,” you replied, “you have two sisters, you’ve never seen anyone in a face mask before?” You asked, coming out of the bathroom, still holding your towel around you. The pajamas you’d picked out were sitting at the foot of the bed Rafe was lounging on.  

He was on his phone though he looked up when you came in. Before you even realized it he’d held his phone up, snapping a picture of you.  

“Rafe!” You clutched the edge of your towel as you reached out with your other hand and smacked his leg, “delete that!”  

“I might make it my lockscreen, what do you think?” He teased, holding his phone out so you could see the picture he’d taken. You looked slightly stunned, caught off guard.

“No, delete that picture, forreal,” you stopped at the edge of the bed, knees hitting the duvet, “you play dirty, you know that.” You grabbed your shorts and top from the end of the bed and headed back into the bathroom to change.  

“So should I make this my lockscreen or my homescreen?” Rafe called, getting up and following you to the bathroom. He walked in just in time to see you pull your top down and you glared at him though it was useless.

“Delete it.”  

-

There were moments that felt semi-perfect, as close to a real, actual, relationship as you thought you could get. But they were barely fully fledged moments, just snippets of something that never got to last because just when you were letting yourself fall into this your brain reminded you that everything here was temporary. Rafe included.  

“Hey, I don’t wanna be a killjoy here,” you said, sitting at the table on the balcony with Rafe, watching as he lit the blunt he’d brought with him. There’d been a whole tin of them but was down to one. You were watching the sun setting in the distance, thinking about the fact that your vacation was supposed to be ending in two days. “But what exactly happens at the end of this week?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, smoke tumbling out of his mouth as he exhaled the words.  

Maybe you should’ve had this conversation sober but you couldn’t help yourself. The thought had been gnawing at since you left the house the night before and even longer, since he first flirted with you in the kitchen at midnight. Where was this headed? Rafe had never struck you as the type of guy who did long distance relationships, or any relationships for that matter. Wheezie had certainly nailed that when she was talking her brother down, trying to sway your interest away from him. Maybe you should’ve listened to her.  

The last time you had seen Rafe was four years ago and you had disappeared out of each other’s lives almost completely after that vacation. But then he was just an unattainable crush you still stacked every potential date against a guy who had felt leagues out of your reach. How did you recover this time, after this vacation, if life went back to normal?

“I mean, you’ll go back home with your family...” you had heard what Ward said the night before but you couldn’t bring yourself to honestly believe that he would throw his son out completely. He wasn’t winning any awards for father of the year but could he really be so terrible?

“Doubtful.” Rafe replied, managing to blow a smoke ring but losing the second one when he smiled.  

“What do you mean doubtful? You really think he’ll not let you come home?” You asked.  

“Ward said if I fucked up again, I wasn’t coming home.” he replied, “that was the agreement for the trip.”  

“Where are you supposed to go?” You asked, crossing your arms for a bit of warmth as the breeze picked up. There was a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach and maybe it was just you being paranoid but you were suddenly regretting the entire conversation. Maybe ignorant bliss would’ve been better.

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “here’s pretty nice.”

“You can’t stay here Rafe.”  

“Why not?”

Suddenly that feeling you’d been having made perfect sense to you, “well, for one...you’re not footing the bill, I am.” You replied, “what are you supposed to do when I leave?”

“You know what, you’re right, you are being a killjoy.” He replied.  

Blissful ignorance, you wished you could turn the clock all the way back to the beginning of the trip. “Is that all this is to you? Just some game? Someone to pay your way?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Rafe snapped, “I got kicked out cause of you-”

“No!” You got up from the table, heading back to the sliding doors, “you got kicked out because you insisted on going back there and picking a fucking fight with your dad when you knew he was already on edge!”  

“Back to blaming me again, awesome.”

“I’m not blaming you...I just...” You sighed, “nevermind.”

The door slid closed behind you and you padded across the carpet floor to the bathroom, going inside and locking yourself in. The thought that Rafe was using you as a place to stay was something you didn’t want to consider but now that you’d said it out loud it was like it wouldn’t get out of your head.  

You shut the lid of the toilet and sat down, pulling your phone out of your pocket and pulling up Sarah’s number, texting her to see how things were going at the house. You hadn’t reached out to your mom again and you weren’t sure how things would be when you got home again, if you would be able to move on from this and go back to normal. You were waiting for a text back from Sarah when a knock on the bathroom door made you look up. It was too late to turn on the shower or run the faucet and pretend you didn’t hear him but you weren’t going to open the door either.

“Can we talk?” Rafe asked through the door.  

You stayed silent, staring at the tiles under your feet.  

“Please?” He tried again, “look, I’m sorry I snapped at you-”

“This isn’t cause you snapped at me.” You called.  

“Well, whatever, I’m sorry.”  

You stood up, walking to the door and pulling it open, “I’m not mad at you. In two days I’m going home and what happens then? We just, leave all this here? Or what...your dad kicks you out so you come up to Connecticut and act like you’re there for me but the whole time I’m stuck wondering if you’re just there for the free room and board?”

“Look, I don’t know what’s gonna happen in two days-”

“But I need to know.” You stressed.  

“Why?”

“Because I really like you and I don’t want this to mean more to me than it does to you.” You admitted. “I have school and responsibilities...I can’t just stay here cause I want to or “chill” cause it’s fun. I have to go home in two days, that’s happening. But I need to know what happens to us in two days when I leave.”

“I don’t...” Rafe trailed off, running a hand through his hair and pulling gently at the ends as he did. “I didn’t mean that I wanted you to front the bill for everything, I just meant that I wanted this to keep going...I don’t want you to go home in two days.”

“That’s kind of inevitable.”

“Why? I like this, exactly the way it is.” Rafe said.

“This isn’t real life.”

“I want it to be.”  

“If it’s not...if this isn’t “forever” that’s okay.” You lied. If it he told you that life went back to the way it was, that your relationship with him would go back to the same as it was before vacation, non-existent, you weren’t sure how you would get through the next two days. But you didn’t think you could stand being here with him.  

“I don’t know.” He repeated. He wanted to tell you that he knew exactly how he felt about you but he wasn’t sure. The entire vacation had turned into a whirlwind of emotions, none of which he expected, and he didn’t know what to feel about anything. Especially not this. He wanted to assure you that this was real and that his feelings were genuine and that he definitely hadn’t considered that if Ward didn’t let him come home he would need a place to stay but it had been at the front of his mind.  

“Okay.” You nodded. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you pulled it out to see a text from Sarah.  

“What is it?”

“Sarah wants to know if we wanna meet up with her and Topper tonight.” You replied.  

“We don’t have to.” Rafe said, watching you as you looked up at him.  

“Might be fun,” you admitted, almost eager for the distraction. “And, we have two days right, like you said.”

-

Confused feelings and alcohol had never been known to mix before and they definitely didn’t that night. You and Rafe needed to talk. To get to the bottom of your feelings about each other and honestly figure out if this relationship was something you wanted to pursue. But Sarah had invited the two of you to a club and you were quick to drown your rational thoughts in alcohol.  

It took two songs, four rounds of shots and a few beers for you to lose your inhibitions. You were starting to feel better, or at least more distracted than you had been earlier, dancing with Sarah, when you jokingly twisted under her arm and spotted Rafe in one of the booths making out with some random girl. She was practically straddling him on the bench and even in the dim lighting you knew that it was him and you stopped dancing.  

“What’s-” Sarah stopped when you did, blinking against the almost strobe lights as she tried to see what you were seeing, gaze landing on her brother.  

“Alright, I got drinks.” Topper’s voice sounded far away, just like the music and Sarah...it all sounded like you were listening to it through a tunnel. Your vision blurred and you turned away from the scene, shoving against Topper accidentally and rushing out of the club that was part of the resort.  

Topper set the drinks on an outlying table and waited for Sarah to give him any sort of direction. When she said nothing, just staring at her brother, he touched her arm, “Sarah?”

“He’s such a dick!” She snapped, glaring at him as if he was the one who had wronged you.  

“I’ll take care of Rafe, just make sure she’s okay.” Topper said. The both of them were far more sober than you were and Topper was worried that you would have trouble getting back to your room safely without help.  

-

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#rafe fanfic #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron au #rafe au #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks au #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx au #obx imagine #holiday in the sun series

[mdawritings]

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 9

I.IX

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Song(s): "Fool's Gold" by One Direction

"Katie," Your heart is still racing from the kiss and the surprise of your friend coming up behind you. "I thought you said you were going to shower and go to bed." It’s a stupid comment. Obviously, she didn’t just go straight to bed.

"What is Professor Hotchner doing outside of our apartment?" Katie crosses her arms across her chest, "No actually, more importantly, what is Professor Hotchner doing kissing you?"

"What?" Just like that, your IQ falls about 80 points. Play dumb. That’s definitely the best choice in this situation.

"Y/N… please tell me you are not seeing our professor." Katie brings a hand up to hold her temples.

"Okay, I’m not seeing our professor," You attempt to push past her and she shoots a hand out to grab your wrist, pulling you back to stand in front of her. You hope your long drawn-out sigh is enough to warn her that you’re really not in the mood for a scolding or beratement or even to chat right now. It’s been a long week. "Please Katie just…"

"Just what? Let it go? Pretend I didn’t see it?" Katie’s eyes search your face but you roll your eyes, "No, we’re talking about this."

"I’m exhausted and I want to sleep," You groan, cursing the fact that your drunken buzz is quickly fading, "This doesn’t have to be a big thing."

"It’s already a big thing." She argues. You open your mouth to protest, to fight her off, but if you know anything about Katie, it’s that when she’s dead set on something, there’s no excuse, no possible escape. So you let out a sigh and move away from her to lean against the kitchen island, a small distance away from her. Where do you begin? How do you explain it all to her?

"How long has this been going on?" Katie’s body language loosens up and she pulls the towel from around her neck, drying her hair lightly as she looks over at you.

So you tell her. You tell her everything. Well, not every single detail of the sex, but you tell her how many times you’ve seen him, you tell her about the late night booty call, you tell her about the kiss with Charlie, you tell her about the weekend at his apartment. You tell her about blowing him off all week. You don’t tell her about him walking you home, you don’t tell her about the conversation the two of you just had outside your building. You leave out the fights with him. You leave out the way he kicked you on your ass this past weekend.

Katie shakes her head, and the words that you already know are coming fall from her lips, "Y/n, you can’t… you cannot keep seeing him."

Your eyes look away from her piercing, searching gaze. Deep down, you know she’s right. This isn’t a relationship and it’s not just a fling anymore. The way you felt all week being separated from him? It made you sick to your stomach. You couldn’t focus on anything, your mind always wandering back to him. Not just wandering back to the sex, but to his voice, his hands, his eyes, his laugh, his smile. The way his brows furrow deeply when he’s reading. That damned hand thing he does. The way he subtly bites at the corner of his lips when concentrating. "I really… I really like spending time with him. He understands me, you know?"

"I know it might feel that way but at the end of the day he’s using you." She argues, "It’s not right. He’s using the power he has over you as a professor to get you in bed."

You don’t come with anything to say back so Katie keeps going, "If you guys get caught… he could lose his job. Your reputation will be ruined. All that you’ve worked hard for, all this work to establish a name for yourself…"

"Don’t you think I fucking realize all that?" Your frustration and exhaustion bubble up into anger. You’re not a child, and right now Katie is lecturing you like one. "It’s not just sex anymore," You bite back, "It’s companionship. He listens to me. He indulges my mind. We enjoy each other's company. And he doesn’t treat me like a child, unlike you and all of our other friends." The last part isn’t really true. Katie, for the most part, treats you with just as much respect as anyone else her age. The rest of your friends baby you. It’s evident in their behavior, the way they tease you and laugh at you. The nicknames, ‘kid genius’ or just ‘kid.’

You’re tired of being treated like a child. You’re plenty capable of making your own decisions. This thing with Hotch, it feels like the first fully independent decision you’ve made. It’s not what your parents expect from you, it’s not what your friends want from you, it’s entirely what you want. And that complete freedom of choice? It feels fantastic.

"Oh my god." Katie’s voice has fallen to hush. Her hand comes to her mouth, covering it slightly.

You stutter out a quick apology, "I’m sorry, Katie that’s not what I meant…"

"Oh my god," She repeats, taking a few steps closer to you, "Oh my god. You’re… falling for him."

Your face flushes hot with embarrassment. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing the small smile threatening to ruin your angry, frustrated facade. "No," You look up into her kind eyes, "Maybe. I don’t know."

"Oh, Einstein," She chuckles sadly. You can sense she feels bad for you. She pities you, like you’re some sad lovesick child, chasing after some unattainable ideal love that will never be requited, but she didn’t hear what Hotch said outside. She didn’t see the way the two of you looked at each other at the front door. She didn’t hear how soft his voice got when he apologized. He wouldn’t act this way if he didn’t care for you. You’re all I need.

He wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t. That would be… cruel of him, to play with you like that. And as much as he’s mistreated you, you know he’s not capable of such disrespect and manipulation.

"You know I’m always in your corner." Katie leans against the counter next to you.

"Then why do you make me feel like a teenager who snuck out past curfew?" You try to crack a joke, lighten the mood, pull yourself out of your own thoughts.

"I’m not angry with you." She rubs your shoulder comfortingly.

"It sure feels that way," You scoff and look down, picking at your nail beds.

"If anything I’m angry with him," She almost laughs, reaching for your hand, preventing you from tearing at the skin any longer. She wraps her hand around yours supportively, "He’s your superior and it’s wrong to use you like this," You shoot her a glare and she sighs, "If he’s using you."

"I don’t know what to think, Katie," You feel that pit in your stomach that makes you queasy, "Whenever I’m with him I feel like the most important woman in the entire world. I make him laugh. How could anyone possibly fake all of that?"

"Maybe he’s not," She wraps her other arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close to rest your head on her shoulder, "You’re so beautiful, inside and out, Y/N… it’s practically impossible for him to avoid falling for you too."

Her words give a small boost of happiness. It’s amazing to know she’s always on your side, but the doubts you have about Hotch don’t seem to be disappearing. He’s never made any real commitment to you. He barely shows any sense of care for you besides when you blow him off. But again, you decide that it all feels too authentic to be manipulation. He’s too enchanted by you, and you, with him. What you feel for him is real. He must feel the same… he has to.

————

You knock lightly on Hotch’s office door, but receive no response. You glance around the hallways to make sure that no student or professor sees you entering his office. It would be quite hard to explain why Hotch would let you go into his office if he wasn’t there. You push open the door, surprised to see Hotch hunched over at his desk, writing furiously with one hand, the other hand holding his forehead.

Your entrance into the office doesn’t even seem to draw his attention. "Aaron?" You call. He looks up at you and you can see his eyebrows plastered into that signature frown of his. "Sorry I didn’t mean to barge in. I can go if you-"

"No come in," He waves you in and turns his attention back down to his work.

"Are you okay?" You ask tentatively. You sit in the chair directly across from his desk, placing your bag on the floor and cozying up a little. You feel comfortable in his office. It’s always warm and the room smells like him. You’ve run your eyes over the hundreds of books on the walls, reading the spines, memorizing every single title that he has in his collection, making mental notes of ones that are missing that you think would pad out his collection properly.

"I just… my third-year ethical issues students are all struggling quite a bit and it’s a difficult class I’ll admit but I can’t help but feel like…" He sighs and shakes his head. "Like it’s due to my failings as a professor and mentor."

You find yourself at a loss for words. You can tell he’s stressed. His hand is tangled in his hair and it’s all messed up and fluffy. His grip on the pen is tight, his knuckles practically going white as he writes notes rapidly. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable… so normal and human. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I’m just trying to restructure the lectures and the curriculum. I’ve lightened the workload because I know all of them are scrounging for internships and job opportunities or are already juggling an internship but they’re just not getting it." He drops his pen, which causes a little bit of ink to spray out from the fountain pen nib and onto his notes. He holds his head in his hands, covering his entire face with his palms before rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up.

You bite your lip and put your things down, standing up to walk around and sit against the edge of the desk to the right of him. "Can I take a look?" You hold out your hand.

"How could you help me with this?" He looks up from his hands at you.

"Well, seeing as I am a student, I can probably help figure out what is and isn’t working for them, which weeks you’re assigning too much work for them to actually get done." You smirk and he leans back in his chair. There’s a small moment before a smile starts to spread across his face.

He places a warm hand on your knee, rubbing it gently. It’s not an inherently sexual gesture, it’s comfortable. He leaves his hand there, thumb tracing circles on your thigh absentmindedly, "I don’t think you’re a good judge of the average student. There’s no such thing as too much work to get done for you."

You roll your eyes, "Aaron will you stop being so stubborn and just hand me the damn syllabus." You stick out your hand and he reluctantly sits up, handing over the sheet scribbled with his notes. "You’re lucky I’ve learned to decode your horrendous handwriting."

"It’s not that awful." He mutters under his breath and leans forward to look over the sheet while it’s in your hands.

"I don’t even know what that says," You point to an especially atrocious line, "Seriously, Aaron, are you trying to make it harder for your students on purpose?"

"You seem to do okay," He teases, giving your thigh a light squeeze.

You chuckle, reaching across him for a pen, making marks all over the pages."Yeah well I work about three times as much as anyone else here."

"What are you doing?"Hotch leans further forward to get a better look at what you’re writing but you lean away from him so you can work on it uninterrupted, "Wait, you can’t just cross that out they need to—" He reaches out a hand, ready to snatch the syllabus from your clutches. You hold your arm fully extended out away from him, like you’re keeping a toy from a little child before placing a soft quick kiss on his lips.

"Now stop arguing and let me work," You smirk and pull away. Despite cutting him off, a small grin remains on his face. You sit there for a few minutes longer, crossing off items on the syllabus, rearranging the schedule, and writing down suggestions. Hotch resigns himself to the fact that you will not be relinquishing your hold on the paper until you’ve made it exactly perfect. He knows you too well, you won’t stop until you think you’ve nailed it.

After a few minutes, you hand the paper back to him, thoroughly satisfied with all the changes you’ve made. He takes it from you, eyes scanning through the notes, flipping through the pages at a steady pace, "Hm," He lets out a small hum and you lean forward, attempting to spot which line he’s reading, "These are… really good changes." He nods and turns to look up at you, your face much closer now that you’ve leaned into him.

"Really?" Your heart flutters as his eyes flit down to your lips and back to your eyes, "I mean… of course they are," You tease, putting on a fake air of arrogance, but deep down you’re heart swells with pride that he’s impressed by your help.

He runs a hand along your jaw, hand wrapping around your throat, but it’s not tight or dominant like usual. His fingers are light on your skin and he just pulls you enough to bring your lips to his for a slow, sensual kiss. Your eyes flutter shut and you run your fingers up to knot in his hair, tugging on the roots. You’re the first to pull away from the kiss, "Now get back to work." You point down at the stack of essays on his desk.

"But it’s Wednesday," He's practically pouting up at you, "I set aside this time to be with you." His hand travels back a little, cupping your face, thumb rubbing your cheek, his fingers at the base of your neck.

"You obviously have a lot to get done. Don’t worry about it," You give a reassuring nod and get up, digging around in your bag to take out a book. You hold it up, "I have ways to entertain myself."

"You can come back later in the afternoon once I’m done all of this," He starts but you hold up your hand to stop him, settling back onto the edge of his desk.

"Get your work done. I don’t mind just sitting here with you," You give a warm smile before opening your novel and diving right in. He takes that as a sign that it’s okay to go ahead and continue working, and you both seem to fall into a rhythm, the only sound coming from the occasional creak and groan of the heater working overtime to combat the cold wintery weather outside.

He rests his right hand on your thigh again, every once in a while giving it a small squeeze, while his fingers trail over your skin. He uses his other hand to continue grading papers. It’s a comforting position. You sit there, fully focused on the book in your hand, but enjoy the comfort of his warm hands on your skin.

You both sit there in silence for nearly half an hour before you come to the end of your book closing it with a small sigh. You glance at the walls of titles and stand up from the desk, drawing Hotch’s attention away from his work. You hold your book close to your chest, slowly strolling past the shelves and shelves of books.

"Take any one you want." He gestures with his head in the direction of the shelves.

"Really?" You’re giddy with excitement, just itching to take the first 10 titles down and dive into reading them. You step closer, taking a moment to read every single spine and cover carefully.

"Mhm," Hotch mumbles under his breath, attempting to look at his work but his eyes are stuck on you as you slowly drift from shelf to shelf, eyes wide, trying to take in every single title.

"You know my birthday is next Friday," You hum softly and run your fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf. You turn and lean back against them, wagging your eyebrows playfully at him, "What are you going to get me?"

"I-" Hotch seems at a loss for words, his smile faltering slightly, "I’m not really great at giving gifts. I don’t ever feel like I know the person well enough to give them a meaningful gift."

"I’m teasing you," You laugh at his slight stuttering and discomfort, "I’m not the type to make a big fuss about my birthday."

"It’s your 21st. That’s a big deal," He nods, eliciting a small scoff and roll of your eyes.

You turn back around and pull a book from the shelf, turning through the pages quickly, "Is it? I mean I’ve always thought of age as something so irrelevant." You put the book up onto the shelf. Your eyes travel up to the higher shelves. The books higher up are probably some of the ones he doesn’t reach for as often, but you find yourself spotting some of your favorites up on the higher shelf. You stand up on your toes, reaching for his copy of Dracula.

"Why’s that?" He stands up from his chair and comes up behind you, reaching up over your shoulder to grab the book and hand it to you. You look over your shoulder at him with a small smile.

"I just don’t think age is necessarily a marker of any sense of intelligence, maturity, sophistication, experience," You walk around the office as you read through the pages, ignoring the written words, focusing all your energy on understanding his annotations. The pages are littered with highlights and notes on every free space on the page. The grin on your face grows more as you read it.

"Sorry, I forget you’re such a kid genius sometimes," Hotch teases you playfully.

You barely hear what he’s saying, taking a moment to absorb the thoughts present in the margins of the novel, "You really don’t like this book, huh?" You close it shut in one hand and look over at him. "You missed some of the most important parts."

"Oh did I?" He chuckles and leans against the shelves, crossing his arms.

"Yes! You missed the complexities of the point of view changes and the greater metaphors for sexuliaty and female sexual prowess." You protest angrily. Your love for literature is coming out at this moment and his smug, arrogant smirk, that you know so well, demonstrates he’s not going to be receptive to your opinion and will continue to believe his ideas are correct.

"I understand those arguments and see their evidence in the literature but it’s taking such a modern view of a Victorian novel. That’s not what the implications are to the Victorian reader o in the historical context of the book," He shrugs, "It’s such a reach."

"But isn’t that the only way to enjoy literature? That’s the only way a work can be timeless. Can you take into a modern context and still enjoy it while deriving some greater conclusions about the world around you?" You tut at him disapprovingly, "Yeah, I'm not taking literature advice from someone who doesn’t even own a copy of The Great Gatsby."

"Classics are overrated." His words are like a knife to your heart. Your jaw falls slack with shock and you can sense him resisting the urge to make a dirty joke.

You shake your head firmly,"First of all, some classics are overrated, but some are worthy of the title of classic. Second, The Great Gatsby is my favorite novel of all time so I will simply not tolerate any criticism. I cannot believe you don’t have it."

"I never understood the infatuation. The writing seems so… simplistic, the imagery is predictable and cliched."

You whirl around to look at him, placing a hand over your chest, feigning hurt feelings, "First of all, I am now taking this as a personal attack," He chuckles and shakes his head at your dramatics, "And the simplistic writing is what makes it so amazing. It seems so simple on the surface, and you can take the cliched, surface level metaphors and imagery and derive some bored, tired conclusions about Fitzgerald’s opinion of the American Dream. But there's so much more!" You shake your head, struggling to reach to put the book back up on the shelf.

"Okay, okay," He walks around to take the book from your hands placing it back in its rightful position, "I get it. My literature analyses are not good enough for you."

As he turns his attention back to you, you maintain his eye contact giving him a small shrug of your shoulders,"If you spend all your energy attempting to divide everything into strict categories or make stark divisions. You miss the important subtleties of the world around you." His brows furrow as he attempts to understand your point.

"I just think your law background has forced you into taking on a black and white mindset." You continue, "But the beauty in life is in the grays." He pauses for a second, letting the smile grow wider on his face. He leans forward, again connecting his lips with yours. His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, pressing your soft warm body against his. You glance at the time, knowing that you’re going to be late for your next class, but you continue to kiss Hotch. You don’t want this moment to end.

Everything feels so perfect. You’re so happy, so content. But nothing this good can last forever.

Chapter 10: I.X →

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #wanna be yours fanfic #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 2 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Seems like I’ve gotten people intrigued with this series. I’m excited to see what you think about this chapter and its revelations. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,522

~~~~~

The only way you could handle the fact the Cale was apparently going to be a dad was to just not think about it. Most of the time that was easy enough. You went to work, came home, put on a new Netflix show that you were binging, and then went to bed. It did feel weird to not put the Avs games on because you hadn’t not watched since he first broke into the league, but you had turned game notifications off on your phone so most days you weren’t even sure if it was a game day or not. Having taken those efforts, you managed to avoid the nagging thoughts that made tears prick at your eyes for two entire weeks. 

And then the folly of your plan finally hit. 

Laura Makar called and invited you over for dinner for her birthday. And as much as you wanted to continue to live in denial, you knew that it would mean the world to her to have you there. After everything she’d done for you, you just couldn’t deny her. 

Dinner had started with conversations about your work, and with where Gary was taking Laura for a weekend birthday getaway. Sitting and watching the two of them, you couldn’t help but hope that someday you could have a relationship like theirs, like your own parents. It was a nice thought, though one that at the moment seemed somewhat unattainable. 

As you finished the food on your plate, however, conversation shifted to the trip Laura and Gary were planning to go down and see Cale at the end of next week while he was on a significant homestand. 

“You should come with us.” Laura insisted, and for a moment you were certain you looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Work is really busy right now. I don’t think I can get away.” Laura’s eyebrows raised as she sent you that disbelieving motherly look that you knew far too well. 

“Didn’t your mom just tell me that you have time off you need to take before you lose it?” Laura questioned, her tone accusatory. Vainly you tried to hide the flush in your cheeks that would tell her that what she’d said was in fact true. Sensing that this conversation was not one he wanted to be a part of, Gary gathered up the dishes and moved to the kitchen to clean up from dinner, leaving you alone with his wife. 

“What’s going on Y/N...you’ve never turned down a trip to go see Cale play.” 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea…” You trailed off, trying to be vague. All of the hurt and pain that you’d been trying to ignore was slowly returning and it was only a matter of time before it spilled over. “I just think maybe this should be a family only trip.” You suggested, doing your best to cover your own ass praying that Laura wouldn’t start asking too many questions. 

“Is this about Sara?” Laura asked, her expression now showing that she knew there was something that you hadn’t told her. 

“In a way…” You whispered, staring at the water in your glass like it would suddenly make you disappear or something. “I just...I don’t think Cale would want me there.” You declared, shaking your head as you excused yourself from the table. “I need to use the bathroom.”��

In the relative safety of the Makar’s powder room, you took a minute to splash water onto your face, trying to calm the rushing of your heartbeat. It didn’t work and after a moment you left the room knowing you couldn’t hide out all night and would probably have to explain. Heading back to the kitchen, you were stopped by Laura’s voice as she murmured for you to join her on the couch in the living room. 

“Sweetheart...why wouldn’t Cale want you there? You’re one of his best friends…I know it’s been a rough couple weeks but…” 

“We uh...we aren’t speaking...well he isn’t speaking to me.” You mumbled, your palms rubbing against the fabric of your jeans. Laura didn’t speak, instead her eyes fell on you with concern, waiting for you to elaborate. And you did because those mom eyes were powerful even if she wasn’t your mom. Plus you’d been holding it all in and your head needed you to tell someone in order for you to truly process it yourself. 

You told her about the instagram stories, about confronting Sara over cheating on Cale and then finally your conversation with her son as a result of all of it. 

“You knew Sara had been cheating on him when I told you she was pregnant and you didn’t tell me?” She questioned, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. 

“I...I thought it was the right thing to do.” You admitted. “I could see you had your own suspicions and if I had told you I know you would have called him right then and there.” Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and let out a sad sigh. “And...and clearly this is the type of thing that can ruin relationships and I didn’t want that for you...for Cale.” You finally explained. “I didn’t want there to be a wedge between the two of you because he’s your son and if the baby was his he’d need his mom…” By the time you finished speaking your voice was shaking and the occasional tear was streaking down your cheek. 

“So you decided to risk a 21 year friendship instead?” She mused, her voice displaying just an iota of awe as she shifted to wrap her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “You are so selfless sometimes that it amazes me Y/N…” She breathed. “It is one of your greatest strengths but also one of your biggest flaws.” 

Her hands rubbed over your back as she let you cry out all of the stress and pain you’d been feeling. When you’d finished crying, she handed you a tissue and rested her hand on your knee. 

“So now that you’ve told me the real reasons why you don’t want to come...maybe I can actually change your mind…” Laura urged, a soft smile on her face. “First...I can promise you that my son doesn’t hate you. Not only do I not believe that Cale has the ability to hate anyone, even if he did there is no way that after all these years he would be able to toss away how much you mean to him.”

“I...you didn’t hear his voice.” You mumbled. 

“You’re right, I didn’t...but you’re just going to have to take my word on this.” She insisted. 

It wasn’t the promise that Cale didn’t hate you that had you agreeing to use your vacation days to join her and Gary on a trip to Denver. You were still terrified that Cale would be angry when you showed up at his door with his parents. And it was one thing to have him hang up on you, it was another entirely to be in the same place and have to endure looks that clearly said ‘you’re not welcome here.’ 

No, it definitely wasn’t that promise...it was what Laura revealed to you next, her hand rubbing your knee. 

“Cale broke up with Sara.” 

“What?” You exclaimed softly, as if the concept was so unbelievable. 

“He called again last week...I guess the day after you would have called him she was over at his place and left her phone face up on the counter. It went off while he was walking by and he saw a text that read something to the effect of ‘when were you going to tell me you’re pregnant with my kid?’. He confronted her about it, told her that he wanted a paternity test done. I guess at that point she fessed up to the cheating and he broke up with her. Told her if the baby was his he’d take responsibility, but that he’d never be able to trust her again so they were done as a couple.” 

You felt waves of relief crash over you at the news. Even if Cale hated you for interfering in his life, at least he now had the truth and hopefully that alone would bring him closure and eventual happiness. He deserves someone who is faithful to him and who can bring out that smile that makes his eyes crinkle with delight. 

Even with the knowledge of that news, Laura was still trying to convince you to make the trip, up until the point where you were gathering things to walk out the door. You’d been slipping on your coat when her phone buzzed and suddenly she let out a huge sigh. 

“Hey Y/N…” She called and when you turned to face her she handed you the phone, a message still lit on the screen. “You’re coming to Denver.” She insisted, and as your eyes glazed over the words you finally nodded in agreement. 

The baby’s not mine. 

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #cavalanche #038

[roosterschick]

clueless

pairing: jj maybank x reader

warnings: some angst, profanity, i think that’s it

summary: two dumbasses pining over each other. that’s it. that’s the fic.

It happened again. Just as it always did. JJ had found some touron to mess around with for the night, as he always did at these parties, and you were left to just watch it unfold. You’d think by now you’d be used to this feeling, but the jealousy and the hurt never eased up. If anything, it only got worse. Each time you had to watch JJ flirt with some random girl, each time you had to watch them sit in his lap and play with his hair, each time you had to watch them disappear into the guest room at John B’s house, it got worse.

This time it was some pretty blonde girl who was just completely infatuated with JJ. There was no ignoring them when she kept laughing at everything he said. They were in their own little bubble, ignoring the party and speaking in hushed tones. You watched as his hand rested on her thigh as he gave her his signature smile that made hearts melt.

She leaned into him and you quickly turned away, not up for witnessing what would come next. You walked away from the bonfire, the ache in your chest worsening with every step you took. Parties weren’t even fun for you anymore because every time you’d have to watch some random girl cling to him all night. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay home. Somehow, it seemed worse to just sit at home wondering what JJ was up to. At least this way you knew. Or maybe you just liked to torture yourself.

Being in love with your best friend was like a curse. He was so close, yet so far. So reachable, yet unattainable. He was right there and yet you couldn’t have him. It felt like whatever higher power there was wanted to make you suffer.

It didn’t help that every day you found something new that you loved about JJ. You thought you’d discovered everything, that nothing could possibly make you love him more, but then he’d do something or say something or make a face at something and you’d realize that loving him was endless. It had no boundaries. It constantly surprised you, the depths that you loved that boy.

His smile and his dimples, the way his hair curled when it was really humid, his stupid big black boots. And that barely scratched the surface. His loyalty and his bravery. The way his voice would rise in pitch when he was stressed. Him. Just him. Always him.

You reached the shore and slipped out of your sandals, letting the water brush against your toes as you wriggled them in the sand. The crashing waves muted the sounds of the party and you closed your eyes as you tried to block out the images of JJ and that girl.

You didn’t even notice John B had followed you until he nudged your arm with his. “Whatcha doing over here?”

You shrugged, kicking some water up and avoiding eye contact.

“You okay?” he asked softly. Even though you never flat out told him, you were pretty sure John B knew how you felt about his best friend. In fact, you were pretty sure everyone but JJ was aware of the feelings you had for him. Or, maybe he knew and just chose to ignore it in order to avoid hurting your feelings.

“I’m fine,” you answered, finally turning to him. You gave him a small smile that you knew he saw right through, but thankfully he didn’t press any further.

“Come on, let’s get you another beer,” John B suggested, holding his arm out for you. You smiled, hooking your arm through his and made your way back to the bonfire.

--

JJ had completely missed the last thing the girl had said to him as he watched you and John B come back to the fire, arm in arm. Normally he didn’t get jealous of his best friend, but watching you giggle as John B spoke quietly to you made a nasty feeling churn in his stomach. JJ knew you and John B had a special bond; both having lost your fathers in untimely manners. Although John B was still in denial about his father’s disappearance, but that was a whole other issue. Naturally, the two of you understood each other on a different level than the rest, but lately it seemed like you two were attached at the hip. JJ knew he was being selfish, wanting you to give him all your attention again, but he couldn’t help it.

He’d gotten used to you always coming to him first for everything. He liked that he was the one you’d call when you were sad and that he was always able to cheer you up. He liked that you’d choose to sit with him over everyone else. He liked that you’d share the hammock with him, but kick anyone else out who tried to get in your space. Lately though it seemed like you had backed away from him and averted that attention to John B. Fuck, he was an asshole for being a bitch about it considering what John B was going through, but he missed feeling like he was someone’s favorite person for once.

The girl, he was pretty sure her name was Cassidy, noticed his attention was no longer on her, so she put her hand on his thigh to try and pull him back to her. He tore his eyes away from the pair, turning back to the girl, but struggling to stay focused now.

--

“I can’t do this,” you murmured, standing up abruptly. The bonfire was winding down and you knew everyone would be ready to head back to the Chateau soon enough. That meant that you’d have to watch JJ pull her into the guest room while you’d try and fall asleep on the pullout couch, all the while knowing exactly what was happening just a few rooms away. You wouldn’t put yourself through that tonight. You couldn’t. This had become beyond unhealthy for you and you couldn’t torture yourself for yet another night.

John B trailed behind you as you made a silent exit from the party. “Where are you going?” He asked, picking up his pace to keep up with you.

“Home,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. You turned your face away from him, not wanting him to notice your watery eyes. You felt so dumb for even letting yourself get emotional over this. JJ and you had nothing more than friendship, and that’s what it would always be. You needed to just accept that and learn to live with it.

“You’re not walking home,” he said softly, grabbing you by the elbow. He turned you to face him and you saw the concern on his face grow as he took you in.

He said nothing, just pulled you into a tight hug. The two of you stayed like that for a bit as you let the tears fall freely.

“At least let me drive you home,” he said, pulling away from you.

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks with the palm of your hand.

The two of you made your way to the Twinkie, completely unaware of the blonde boy who watched the whole exchange from a distance.

--

John B just got back from dropping you off at home and was instantly met with an irritated looking JJ. His jaw was tight as he looked around John B as though he were waiting for someone to come up behind him.

“Where’d she go?” he asked, obviously referring to you. JJ’s voice was clipped, and John B sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“She just wanted to go home, man,” John B explained. He noticed that the girl JJ had been talking to all night was nowhere to be seen.

JJ nodded, working his jaw. “What’s with you two anyway?” JJ asked, struggling to sound nonchalant “She’s been all over you lately.”

John B was taken aback by his friend’s words, confused as to what JJ was even referring to. “Nothing is going on with us. She just didn’t wanna be here anymore.”

JJ laughed humorlessly. “I’m not stupid. I can see what’s going on, did you forget the rule or something? No pogue on pogue macking.”

The confusion subsided as John B came to the realization that JJ had convinced himself something was going on between you and him. He was jealous. The funniest part was JJ was the last of the pogues to care about the “no pogue on pogue macking” rule. He had flirted with both you and Kiara more times than John B could count on both hands and feet, and he knew for a fact that JJ thought the rule was bullshit.

“Dude. There’s nothing going on between us. Come on, you know that,” John B reassured his best friend who was very unamused by the smug look on John B’s face.

“So why’d she leave without saying bye? She always says bye,” JJ said, his eyes darting around as he tried to work it out in his brain.

John B fought the urge to roll his eyes at his oblivious fool of a best friend. “You seriously have no idea, do you?”

JJ’s eyes snapped up to John B. “What are you talking about?”

John B shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “You two are impossible,” he muttered.

JJ was getting irritated again by John B’s non-answer responses. “Forget it, I’ll figure it out myself,” he said, shoving past John B.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” John B called after him.

--

You were lying in bed, admittedly, being pathetic and sad while the 1975 played in the background. This was your sad teenage dramady moment, you had decided. Hopefully this meant that things would turn around after this moment.

You continued to wallow in self-pity until a sound outside startled you. You pulled the covers over you a little more, feeling a bit more safe hidden under them. You peeked your eyes over the blanket and yet again, heard the same sound. It sounded like someone was walking right outside your window. Suddenly overcome with bravery, you threw the covers off your body and marched over to your window. You pulled back the curtains, coming face to face with someone on the other side of the window. You yelped, jumping back and nearly falling on your ass.

“Stop screaming, it’s just me! It’s JJ!” you heard the muffled voice say through the window.

Relief flooded through your body as you moved toward the window again, opening it for him. JJ had done this plenty of times and you had hidden a plastic crate in the bushes near your window for him to get easy access through your window. You put it out there months ago and he had used it whenever he’d show up in the late hours of the night when he couldn’t handle being at home anymore and didn’t feel like going to the Chateau.

You had to admit though, you were confused as to why he was here. Last you saw him, he had a touron hanging all over him, yet here he was, climbing into your window.

You sat on your bed, watching as he landed on his feet.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

JJ’s palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his shorts as he tried to think of what the hell he had even planned on doing once he got here.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not unkindly. You couldn’t lie, a part of you was satisfied at the idea of him leaving the touron he met to come see you. You weren’t even sure if that’s what happened, but that’s what you were going to tell yourself.

“I uh… Why’d you leave?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You came all the way here to ask me why I left the party?”

JJ looked around, pondering over the situation and realizing how ridiculous this all seemed now. “I… guess I did, yeah.”

“I just wasn’t in the partying mood,” you replied, picking at a loose thread on your blanket.

“Bullshit,” he started, “was it John B? Did he do something?” he asked, the anger rising in his voice.

You snorted, looking at him like he was insane. “No, John B didn’t do anything. What are you talking about?”

His shoulders dropped, becoming less tense at the reassurance. You narrowed your eyes at him, not used to this kind of behavior coming from him. “What’s going on with you?” you asked.

JJ started pacing back and forth, running his hands over his hair repeatedly before stopping and searching for his Juul in his pockets. You waited patiently as he hit it once, twice, three times before pacing again.

“Oh my god, JJ, relax!” you exclaimed, standing up and grabbing him by the shoulders to stop his endless movements.

He looked at you, blue eyes clear and wide. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he debated on what he was about to do. Your eyes searched his face for something, anything to help him get out whatever it was that he needed to say.

“I think I like you,” JJ blurted, his face instantly heating up at the confession.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, not knowing what to say. “I… like you too?” you said, not fully comprehending what he meant.

He shook his head furiously, moving away from you and pacing once again. “No, you—you don’t understand. I think I like you. Like… fuckin’… heart racing and butterflies ‘n shit,” he said, and you had to replay his words in your head to process them. 

It didn’t make sense. He was hooking up with girls left and right and never once acted like he felt anything more for you than friendship. Sure, he could be flirty sometimes, but JJ was like that with everyone. You never once considered that he actually meant any of it.

“Can you fucking say something?! I’m sweating balls over here!” he exclaimed, his voice reaching a higher octave than usual.

You looked over at him, a smile making its way onto your face as you took in the slightly disheveled boy in front of you. You decided to say fuck it and throw all your worries and hesitation away. You took three long strides and grabbed his face in your hands, kissing him fully on the mouth. It took only two seconds for JJ to respond, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him as he kissed you back hungrily.

It wasn’t perfect. It was a little clumsy, and you weren’t exactly sure what to do with your tongue but the two of you figured out a good rhythm. You pulled back, only because you needed to breath, and found that both of you couldn’t contain your smiles. You giggled, he laughed, and the two of you kissed again.

“I like you too,” you whispered against his lips.

“Yeah, I kinda got those vibes from that kiss,” he said, giving you one last chaste kiss before picking you up and spinning you around.

You couldn’t contain your giggles, the ecstatic feeling overwhelming you as he spun you around before gently placing you on your bed.

“Guess we got a lot to talk about, huh,” he said, leaning over you. You looked up into those blue eyes of his, so full of the love and adoration you had never noticed before. Your heart raced at the thought of what this meant for the two of you. He was right, there was a lot to talk about. But you had all the time in the world for that now.

You nodded, pulling him in by the back of his neck for another kiss. “Later,” you mumbled against his lips.

Right now, you just wanted to kiss the boy you’d been in love with for years, without a care in the world.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine