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queer-irritator · 5 months

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Everything Has Changed | Kratos x reader

A/N: I was listening to music and Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift came on and it made me think of how one look at Kratos and I was in love lmao. I think Kratos deserves a whirlwind, sudden teenage dream type romance. Pure fluff!

Fem reader, no use of pronouns, but feminine descriptions used.

CW: Adult language, mention of death, mention of mysophobia.

Word Count: 4,535

---

You lived alone on a small island in Svartalfheim, near Dragon’s Beach. Since the towns nearby were built with dwarves in mind, you didn’t exactly find it the most comfortable to live in Nidavellir. So, you built your own little slice of paradise. You had a quaint home, not unlike those housed by dwarves. You also had your own garden to grow food, and a few pets to keep you company. You found your way into the tight-knit community created by, and for, dwarves after being taken in by the most unlikely candidate in all of Svartalfheim, Sindri.

Left an orphan after your parents were murdered under Odin’s orders, you were stuck wandering the town of Nidavellir at the age of 6. Your parents were adventurers; brave and curious truth-seekers. But when their curiosity brought them to Svartalfheim, dangerously close to what you can only assume was something very sacred to Odin, they were killed. Or, that’s what you think anyway. Odin and the aesir claim there was an “accident” when they were exploring. You didn’t know any better at the time, but Sindri did. Somehow he had convinced Odin not to take you away with him, gods know what he would have done to you if he hadn’t been successful.

Since then, you’ve looked to Sindri, and the entire community of Nidavellir, as family. It had been almost two decades since then, and now you work hard helping out the dwarves any way you can. You perform chores that are made easy due to your height advantage over them, but most importantly you make yourself available to listen to the community, sort of like a self-appointed therapist. That’s where you were at this very moment, on a hill a few minutes walk outside of town, you call your “office”. You saw a few people each day, but today was slower than usual. On days like this you liked to practice magic and tend to your garden. You took an interest in nature, so Sindri taught you how to manipulate some natural elements, get food to grow quicker, some healing magic, stuff like that. You were planting some seeds for the upcoming harvest season. Your hands, covered in soft, cold dirt, carefully poked holes into the tender earth. You dropped a few seeds in each hole before gently covering them back up.

The snap of a twig to your left tore your focus away from your current task. You turned your head to meet the sound and couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You saw Sindri stepping out from behind a tree, you hadn’t seen him in a few months, the both of you had been consumed in work as of late.

“Sindri!” you called to the dwarf as you dusted the dirt off your hands and stood up.

“Hey, it’s been a while. I-”

You cut off Sindri’s words by running over to him and embracing him in a bone-crunching hug. You were careful to keep your dirty hands away from him, but he hated being touched nonetheless. This was the longest you’ve ever gone without seeing each other, so he was just going to have to deal with your close proximity. You could feel his body tense up around your arms, signaling he had enough.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate it, but I haven’t seen you in forever!!” You flashed him a sad smile, pleading him not to be upset with you.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just… take a bath in bleach.” He was standing so none of his limbs were touching each other, like an awkward sparring dummy.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” You teased him as you knelt down to rinse your hands in a bucket of water nearby.

“We breathed the same air for nearly 20 years, a hug is nothing.” you attempted to reason with his brain. You stood up once again and really took in the sight of Sindri standing in front of you. Despite his mysophobia that refused to waver, you really missed him.

“So, what are you doing here? Just dropping by?”

“No, I… I actually need your help with something.” Sindri’s tone had shifted from annoyed to more serious. “Anything for you, Sin’.” you smiled at him, trying to keep the conversation light. You couldn’t imagine he would have anything horrific to ask of you. You turned to a small shelf and grabbed a clean rag and a bottle of cleaner and handed it to Sindri.

“Here. I can’t take you seriously with you standing like that, man.” You chuckled. He mumbled out a ‘thanks’ and swiftly began to clean himself.

While Sindri was getting himself into a state of cleanliness that he deemed suitable, he told you of the favor he needed. He explained that the World Tree was dangerously close to becoming overgrown, and Ratatoskr had his hands busy trying to parent the lindwyrms, who were not ready to care for the world tree on their own quite yet.

“Ahh, so now my “dirty hobby” has come to be useful!” You crossed your arms smugly as Sindri rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“If that’s how you want to look at it…” he murmured. “Just, come to my house when you’re ready. I have to take a bath now.”

Before you could even agree, Sindri was gone. You chuckled to yourself and began to clean up and get ready to be away for awhile. You said a spell over your newly planted seeds to keep them healthy and watered for the time being. Next you collected some clothes and supplies into a small satchel and picked up your sword. Its hilt was crafted from dwarven steel and the blade was made out of wood from a poison tree and wrapped in thorny vines. You slid it into its sheath on your back and headed to the nearest mystic gateway.

---

Kratos, Atreus, and Mimir had just returned from freeing the Hafgufa from Vanaheim. There was a trail of sand following behind them.

“I’m really glad we got to set the Hafgufas free, but I don’t think I wanna go to any realms with sand for a while…” Atreus stated as he brushed some sand from his hair

“Aye, I’ve got sand in me neck stump!” Mimir shared Atreus’ disdain for feeling sand in every crevice imaginable. The sound of the front doors opening pulled the men’s attention from their current discomfort.

You took a few steps through the front door before you stopped in your tracks as you locked eyes with perhaps the most invigorating man you’ve ever seen. You hadn’t expected to see anyone else at the house, let alone someone so tantalizing. It felt as if all the breath was stolen from your lungs as you looked deep into his amber eyes. The scowl the man had on his face only a second before had noticeably softened now. It was as if the two of you were the only people in all the nine realms at that moment. After what felt like years of staring into this man’s soul through his eyes, it was cut short as sound filled the air.

“Y/n! About time I saw you again.” Brok greeted you as he walked out from behind the counter of the workshop. You held your gaze with the giant man for just one more second before reluctantly tearing your eyes away to greet Brok.

This was no big deal, you just had to act like you hadn’t just seen the most attractive and magnetizing person in your entire life… If you didn’t believe in love at first sight before, you sure as Hel believed in it now.

“It’s really great to see you, Brok.” You smiled at the blue dwarf and bent down to engulf him in a hug. You could only hope that he couldn’t feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Although your back was turned, you could feel the man's eyes on your body. You stood up straight and took a deep breath, readying yourself to speak to the handsome stranger. You turned towards him and held out your hand to greet him as you found yourself drawn to his eyes once again.

“Hi, I’m (y/n).” You introduced yourself. The man glanced down at your hand and then back at you. He reached his hand out to grasp yours in a surprisingly gentle handshake.

“Kratos.” is all he said. The sound of his voice was better than anything you imagined. You could have melted into a puddle of goo at that very moment.

“Kratos.” You smiled as you repeated his name. “It’s very nice to meet you.” You said, letting go of his hand, missing the warmth of his body heat immediately. You looked to your right to see a teenage boy. You had almost missed him in all the feelings and thoughts swirling around in your head.

Kratos placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, “This is my son, Atreus.”

You reached your hand out to greet Atreus as well, “It’s very nice to meet you too!” you smiled at the boy. He returned your smile and shook your hand, with much more grip and enthusiasm than his father.

“Good to meet you as well! So, how do you know Sindri?” Atreus asked, assuming only people close to the dwarf would be allowed access into his home. You chuckled slightly, thinking he was joking around. When he glanced around awkwardly you realized how serious he was.

“Oh…” you started, confusion showing on your face, but it soon turned to agitation. “Oh my gods.” You quickly turned your head to Brok. “He… He doesn’t talk about me?” You practically yelled in astonishment.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me… But, uh, let me take a look at yer sword.” Brok knew just how to evade your annoyance. You took out your sword and set it down on the workshop table with a scoff as you repeated your words with disbelief, “He doesn’t talk about me…”

Kratos and Atreus silently exchanged glances to each other as they were left guessing how you and Sindri were acquainted. One situation in particular was swirling around Kratos’ mind, that you were romantically involved with the dwarf. Disappointment had crept up onto him as he began to entertain this thought.

“Uhm… Are you and Sindri, like… dating?” Atreus awkwardly asked you, staring at his own feet to avoid your gaze.

“No! Oh, no, not at all! He raised me!” You had been so lost in your annoyance that you never answered the boy's question.

Kratos felt relief wash over him. He wasn’t sure why he was relieved, or why he cared if you had been something more than a friend or family member to Sindri. He had just met you, he should not be having these types of thoughts or feelings about anyone, let alone a stranger.

“Ohhh!” Atreus chuckled a little, finally looking up at you again. “Wait- Sindri had a kid?” He glanced at his father and then back to you. “Are you-”

You cut Atreus off before things could get awkward again, “No, I’m like an adopted sibling he never wanted.” you cleared the air.

Seemingly right on cue, Sindri entered the house.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you three would be back already...” Sindri shifted his weight from side to side, seemingly unprepared to introduce you to his guests. But his awkward demeanor soon switched to panic as he noticed the pool of sand in his house.

“Really?!” Sindri sighed loudly as he fetched a broom from a nearby closet. “You two, get outside!” He commanded Kratos and Atreus, pushing the broom at their heels to rush them out of his previously pristine house.

Once the duo had been escorted outside, Sindri shot them a warning, “And do NOT come back in until you are sand-free!”

Sindri propped the front doors open and began to sweep the sand out of the house. You were left watching the entire ordeal with a slightly amused look on your face. You figured you could give Sindri shit later for not telling his friends about you, he had enough on his plate for the time being. For now, your gaze drifted back towards Kratos.

“Uhm, I’m gonna go take a bath.” Atreus notified his father before turning his back to walk through a small wooden gate on the side of the house to clean up.

Kratos grumbled slightly and unhooked Mimir from his belt, setting him down on the bottom step of the stairs leading into the house. He then proceeded to take off each piece of his armor and shake the sand out from them. You took your time to look over his upper body. Your eyes trailed the bright red tattoo, from the sharp edge on his face to the swirl on his bicep, and the curve on his abdomen. You couldn’t help admiring his muscular physique and taking note of the large scar on his stomach, and a smaller one over his eye.

“Alright, quit yer drooling.” Brok’s voice snapped you back into reality. He set down your sword on the counter in between the two of you.

You whipped your head towards the dwarf, a soft pink blush falling over your cheeks.

“Fuck off, I was not drooling…” You defended yourself, snatching your sword back. You took a moment to look over Brok’s upgrades before returning it to its sheath.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Brok teased you further.

You rolled your eyes and started to walk down the steps outside. You were careful not to make any more of a mess for Sindri, but not careful enough to notice a severed head on the very last step. In your effort to avoid stepping on the head, you tripped over your own two feet. Instead of feeling the harsh impact of the ground, you felt a warm hand on your upper arm. You looked up to see Kratos holding onto you. His piercing brown eyes were staring right into your soul, again. You felt your heart rate pick up, you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. His grip loosened on you and he returned his hand to his side.

“You should be more careful.” Kratos advised you.

“Yeah- uhm, I’m sorry about that.” You turned to the severed head on the steps, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s the big oaf’s fault for settin’ me down there.” The head was surprisingly forgiving of your clumsiness. A tinge of pink settled across your cheeks as you looked back to Kratos. The man just grunted in response to the head.

“I’m Mimir, it’s nice to meet you.” The head introduced himself at last. You sat down on the steps next to Mimir.

“Right back at’cha. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.” You felt guilt for over-looking him earlier. Although, you did overlook just about everyone except for Kratos…

“Don’t even mention it. How could ya have seen me?” Mimir continued to joke at the expense of Kratos. A smile spread across your face. Before you could continue your conversation, a voice rang out.

“Master (y/n)!” A familiar voice entered your eardrums, Ratatoskr. A small sigh escaped your lips as you stood up.

“Duty calls.” You announced. “I’ll see you two around.” You gave a smile to Mimir and a wave to Kratos before walking over to speak with the abnormally large squirrel. It was time to find out what exactly you’ll be helping him with.

Kratos’ gaze followed you as you walked away from him. His eyes raked over your figure, memorizing the way you walked and how your hips moved with each step.

“Father?” Atreus’ voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hm?” Kratos turned his attention to his son and continued to shake the last of the sand out of his waist armor.

“I was just saying that the bath is ready for you, and I can clean up out here.” Atreus shifted his gaze between Mimir and his father. Kratos simply nodded his head, dropping the armor he was holding and headed to get himself cleaned up.

Atreus began to gather the armor from the ground. “Uhh, do you think he’s acting a little… weird today?”

“I think he might be a wee bit tired from all the traveling, lad. Speaking of, would you mind helping me clean up a bit?”

“Sure, no problem Mimir.” Atreus smiled and got to work.

---

You spent the next few hours getting a tour of the World Tree and extremely detailed instructions from Ratatoskr on how to care for it. He explained how to prune the branches, what limbs held which realms, what you should never touch, the list went on and on. Your head was so filled with new information it felt like your brain was going to explode. You walked into the house just as it was getting dark outside after finally being relieved for the evening. Even though the realm between realms doesn’t have a sun and a moon, it was still nice to have it simulate days and nights, so as to not lose track of time. The scent of meat and spices filled your nostrils, Brok was in the kitchen stirring a large pot, of what you assume was dinner.

“That smells amazing.” You said, walking towards Brok. You stopped in front of the giant pot and picked up a spoon to give the stew a taste test. “Tastes amazing too.”

“It ain’t ready yet.” Brok snatched the spoon out of your hand. You put your hands up in defense.

“Sorry, I guess I’ll just wait then… and never compliment you again.” you turned your back and headed to where you used to sleep growing up.

“Wait, that’s-” Before Brok could finish his warning, you opened the door to be greeted by Kratos sitting on the side of a makeshift bed. The only item of clothing he had on was dark brown pants. He almost looked like a different person without all his armor on. There was even more scarring hiding under his wrist armor, it looked like chains had been branded onto his forearms.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were staying in here.” You apologized for intruding.

Kratos looked up to meet your gaze, “It is fine.”

You gave him a small smile and looked around the room, “This place hasn’t changed much. I used to stay in this room when I was younger.” You leaned against the wall as a flood of memories entered your mind.

“You can have the room if you wish.” Kratos said as he stood up with a slight grunt.

“No, I couldn’t kick you out of your room. You probably need it more than me. Plus, the chair out there is pretty comfy.” You assured him.

“Mh… Let me know if you change your mind.” He began to wrap some red cloth around his forearms.

“So, how did you come to have a talking severed head as your companion?” You questioned him.

“I cut it off.” Kratos replied to you plainly.

“Huh?” You had confusion written all over your face.

“He was trapped. Imprisoned in a tree and tortured everyday. He asked me to cut off his head to free him. So I did.” Kratos further explained.

“Oh, that’s actually really kind of you.” You said, reflecting on the odd, but thoughtful, request.

Kratos grunted in response.

Just as you were about to ask him more about himself, you heard Brok announce that dinner was ready. You gave Kratos one more look over. His lack of clothing was incredibly inviting, but you were hungry and tired.

“I’ll see you out there.” You excused yourself and walked out to the table to sit down and get some food.

---

Dinner was nice and casual, there was no residual awkwardness from the days prior events. You got to know more about Atreus, that boy really likes to talk. He was going on about the different types of monsters he’s fought with his dad. He seemed the most proud of defeating a huge electric dragon a few years ago. The most surprising detail of the story was that Sindri utilized one of the dragon’s teeth to enhance Atreus’ bow. Swapping stories around the dinner table made the time go by far too fast for your liking. It felt like the six of you had been friends for a lifetime. When the conversation had died down, you stood up and collected the empty plates. You made your way to the kitchen to wash up while Kratos and Atreus went into their respective rooms.

“I can get that, you should get some rest.” Sindri’s voice came from behind you. You turned your head to look at him.

“No, I really don’t mind!” You insisted, turning on the water.

“Okay… Well, to be honest I don’t trust anyone else washing the dishes but me.” Sindri admitted.

“Mmmh, the truth comes out.” You chuckled and stepped away from the sink. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“You just rest. You’ve done a lot for me today… Thank you.” Sindri gave you a small smile and got started on cleaning up.

You had an idea brewing in your mind. You couldn’t get your mind off of Kratos. You just wanted to know more about him, he was all you could think of. You found a spare piece of paper, scribbled down a note, slipped it under Kratos’ door and made yourself scarce.

“Brother, someone’s slipped a note under your door.” Mimir alerted Kratos, who was laying down on his makeshift bed. He pulled the weight of himself up with a slight grunt and walked over to where the note was. He bent down and picked it up, unfolding it carefully.

Meet me at the side of the house.

Kratos furrowed his brows and let out a confused grumble. He set the note down on a crate near his bed and stepped out of his room.

“Aye, what did it say??” Mimir questioned, but the only response he got was the sound of the door closing and heavy footsteps leading further and further away.

You were sitting on a barrel, leaning your back against the side of the house and nervously tapping your fingertips on your thigh. You heard the front door open and close, causing you to spring to your feet and run a hand through your hair to tame any fly-aways. You watched as Kratos entered through the side gate, latching it behind him. Your heartbeat started to increase with each step he took toward you. He stopped a few feet away from you.

“You wanted to see me?” Kratos spoke with a hint of confusion laced in his words.

“Yeah, I did…” You took a step toward him, taking in a deep breath before looking up into his eyes. “I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, and I just wanna know you better.” You confessed your infatuation with the man.

“What would you wish to know?” Kratos asked you.

“Everything?” You responded, taking another step closer to him, leaving only a few inches of space in between you.

“Mh… That may take awhile.” Kratos looked down at you, his chest steadily rising and falling with each breath he took. It was beyond your grasp how he could remain so calm and stoic, but it made you want him more than ever.

“I have time.” You told him with a small smile. You lifted your hand from your side and carefully placed it on Kratos’ cheek, right where his beard began to sprout. You looked in his eyes for any signs of hesitation, but you found none. You leaned up on your tippy toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

You leaned back just a few centimeters from him and opened your eyes. He hadn’t moved a muscle, it was like you had kissed a statue. Kratos had a look of surprise and confusion sprawled across his face. His eyes were raking over your facial features, searching for any hint of disgust. He was waiting for you to shove him away, to start laughing at him. He was expecting to hear you question who would ever want to touch a monster like him. But you were just staring right back at him, looking increasingly worried by the second.

“Are you okay?” You spoke, barely above a whisper. Had you broken him? Did he not like you? Was he trying to find a way to let you down without hurting your feelings? Your embarrassment started to manifest itself as redness across your cheeks, darkening with each moment of silence that passed.

Kratos nodded ever so slightly and one of his hands ghosted just above your hip, barely making contact with your body.

You placed your free hand on top of his, encouraging him to make full contact with you. You placed both of your hands on either side of his face and kissed him again. Only this time, you weren’t as gentle. You started with a firm kiss and then began to move your lips against his, trying to encourage him to kiss you back. You felt his hand on your hip pull you closer to his body and then you finally felt his lips start to move against yours. He dipped his head down so you didn’t have to strain to reach his lips. You couldn’t hold back a faint moan erupting from your throat as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to get even closer to Kratos. He now placed both his hands on your hips, tilting his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss. After a few more moments, you weren’t sure if it was a lack of oxygen, or if you were getting drunk off of the feeling of Kratos on you, but you were getting dizzy. You stopped kissing him and placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself and took a moment to catch your breath. Kratos watched you cautiously, he gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face with the back of his hand. Your face was flushed pink and your lips were wet with the mix of both of your saliva. He hadn’t had any feelings like this in a long, long time.

“Uhm…” You looked up at Kratos, pleasantly surprised to see he was watching you carefully, “Would you wanna get a drink with me sometime?”

For the first time you saw the man’s cheeks firm up into a slight smile and heard the sweet sound of a chuckle escape his lips.

“Why don’t we go now?” He proposed.

You nodded in response, “Yeah, that sounds great.” You smiled back at him, not caring if you looked like a complete idiot.

“Let us go then.” He declared, walking towards the gate and holding it open for you.

“Okay, I know just the place.” You walked through the small wooden gate and excitedly waited for Kratos to catch up to you at the mystic gateway.

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! I very well may do a part two to this story. Feedback and interaction helps me know if you want me to continue!

#god of war #god of war ragnorak #gow #gowr #kratos #gow kratos #kratos x reader #kratos x fem reader #kratos x gn reader #kratos fluff #kratos smut #gow fanfic #gow fanfiction #gow sindri #gow spoilers #gowr spoilers #atreus #sindri #brok

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tokio-motel · 8 months

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AHEM

im the best requester here no one needs to mf bother cuz like🥰

ANYWAY

imma get 20 chicken nuggets(bill kaulitz fic or headcannons i do not caree) where bill n male reader r alr dating n shit and bills been hiding the fact he is so obviously the hottest blood sucking demon on the planet(vampire) and reader prolly cuts himself or smth and this mf bill smells that shit UP and ends up trying to help reader but just licks the blood and starts begging for moreee🥰🥰

(if u wanna add smth where they're fucking and reader says bill can have some of his blood only if he's good- BDJXDKDBDIDBEOEB)

ahem anyways add wachu want ofc🥰

VAMPIRE BILL X READER

HIII HUN 😇hhhhh ewww why is asking for blood so cringey i can't

(Contains some nsfw themes so if you don't like that don't read)

"Are you sure you don't wanna sit by the window, Bill? You look cold.."

M/N asked, tossing a tomatoes back and forth in his hands. He glanced over to where Bill sat, in the corner perched on the seat farthest from the window. "Here let me..." M/N began, going over to open the curtains of their window to allow the sunlight to flow in. "NO!" Bill choked out, heart thumping as he saw M/N stop mid step, looking at Bill with concern. Bill cleared his throat, giving what he hoped was a comforting smile. "I erm.. No. I'll be fine, just focus on the food...yeah?"

M/N nodded hesitantly, tossing the tomatoes onto the cutting board as he grabbed the knife from the drawer. "Alright love.. If you get too cold get my jacket from the living room." M/N didn't understand why Bill didn't like the windows in the dining room. Hell, he didn't like any windows in their house. They never went to the beach, but Bill did tell him he burned quickly in the sun with sunscreen or without it...

M/N shook his head to himself, grabbing the knife in hand as he held the red tomatoe, dicing it into small slices. He hummed to himself, glancing over his shoulder to where the pasta was cooking. "Bill, do you mind taking it off the stove..?" he asked, cupping the tomatoe slides in his hands and putting them on a seperate plate, before taking another tomatoe in hand to repeat the process.

Bill nodded, smiling softly as he walked over to M/N. He passed by, turning the stovetop off and putting the pot on a different burner. "Agh, shit!" he heard M/N curse, hissing under his breath. Bill spun around, about to ask M/N what had happened before he looked down, to where M/N cut himself on his fingertip. He watched as the crimson droplets rolled down M/N's finger, his heartbeat speeding up as he felt his fangs pulse with need.

M/N put the knife down, letting it clang against the cutting board. Bills eyes glanced over at the knife, the sprinkle of blood along the tip of the utensil. Bills hands twitched as he held back, wanting to lunge onto M/N and suck the blood out, the metallic taste that would linger in his mouth...

M/N sighed, about to start walking to the bathroom where they kept their band-aids, but Bill stopped him, his fingers digging into M/N's forearm. M/N looked at him with confusion, turning his body slightly to Bill. "Darling..?" he trailed off, watching how Bill looked down at his finger, slightly squeezing the finger making more blood spill out. M/N winced quietly, it didn't hurt that much but it still stung.

"M/N...Let me help you..?" Bill asked quietly, looking at M/N with eyes full of zealousness and...lust? M/N could only tilt his head, eyes squinting slightly as concern etched on his face. "What do you mean Bill...?" he questioned. The blood had trickled to the base of his finger now, and he could have sworn he could hear Bills heartbeat. Bills eyes nearly welled with tears, this was so drawn out..he just wanted to..

"Let me taste it.."

M/N nearly pulled his hand away, if not for the strong grip of Bill. Oh my god it was all making sense now...how Bill was so fearful of the sunlight, how Bill avoided taking pictures with him, why Bill was always so cold..how Bill was so damn pale. How had he misses this.. "Taste it, huh?" M/N questioned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Bills breath hitched as he whined quietly, trying to pull the finger closer to his lips. The strong scent of metal wanted up his nose and he could feel his fangs getting longer, feeling the points against his tounge as he licked his lips.

"Fuck, yeah..." he whispered, M/N's finger was inches away from his face. Yet M/N pulled his finger away, but still holding his fingers up so Bill could cleary see the red trail. "Please.." Bill choked, a sob almost escaping his throat as he felt himself grow hot, shuffling his legs. M/N made a fake face of sadness, pouting as he teased the vampire. "'Awwh...thats all? C'mon, speak up."

Bill groaned in frustration, tears prickling his eyes. "Please... Please M/N," he begged, legs quivering beneath him, "L-let me taste it...and I'll do anything you say I swear-"

"Anything?" M/N hastily cut Bill off, Looking him dead in the eye as he inched his finger closer. "Yes! Yes anything! Just please I.." Bill sobbed, his fangs pulsing uncontrollably as his heart beat faster. M/N could only chuckle, muttering a soft "Good boy.." as he lowered his finger right in front of Bill. Bill immediately took his finger in hand, sinking his fangs into it. M/N hissed, pleasure mixing with pain.

He watched as Bill kitten licked the blood, lapping up and down his finger as he sucked harder, moaning and whimpering softly. Eventually M/N's cut was clean, not a flick of blood in sight. Bill felt himself grow more desperate, the smal amount of blood he took not being enough. "M/N.." he whimpered, begging silently. He didn't necessarily want M/N to hurt himself again, like purposely cutting his finger, but he just needed more and...

"Go to the bedroom." M/N muttered, gently pushing Bill in his chest towards the stairs. Bills cock throbbed in his boxers at his words, feeling all sorts of euphoric. Yet he couldn't help but ask.. "W-what about the pasta?" he asked meekly, although he was already on the first step of the stairs. He knew M/N had been talking about this dish for days, desperately wanting to make it for Bill so he himself could taste it.

But M/N only shook his head. "I'll make it another time. Maybe if you go upstairs like a good boy I'll give you what you want, yeah?" he spoke out, looking at Bill with a devilish glint. Bill didn't need to hear anothervword, nearly tripping on his feet as he rushed into their bedroom.

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x male reader #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x male reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #sub bill kaulitz #x male reader #x male y/n #x reader #dom male reader #is that it #shit idek

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creatingnikki · 4 months

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things to remember in 2024

i. more quiet time, more silence. more shavasana, more stillness.

ii. keep promises you make to yourself. everyone else can be disregarded — the promises they make, the promises you make to them.

iii. there is no "should do this" or "should be that way" as a universal rule book. your experiences and lessons teach you what are your values, preferences, and takes on life and people. you don't need to convince others of them, you don't even need to most times articulate them to follow them and do as you please.

iv. things that increase your risk of chronic health (mental and physical) issues: sitting, smoking, and situationships. your legs, lungs, and love life deserve much better.

v. 'the best way to take care of the future is to take care of the present moment'. fight the instant gratification, the fomo, the yolo. do the healthy thing for you in the moment, every moment.

vi. go to the salon, the bookstore, the train station, the beach, the bakery more than you go to the bar, the boy's house, and self doubt/loathing.

vii. travel even if you don't have a big budget and cannot do everything you'd want to in that destination because you do now want some travel experiences and stories while you're still in your 20s. make it a priority now, you don't want to feel bitter later.

viii. stop trying to frustrate and confuse yourself so much. you are both the vivacious, warm, kind, person and the somber, detached, pensive person. it's not one betraying the other. it's both you — the sunflower and the black orchid.

ix. ask people of things, it's no virtue to only give and not take. however, don't be so sensitive or shattered if not given or denied. people don't have as much power over your heart as you believe. your heart is happily vacationing on the moon most months of the year away from this worldly chaos. it's your ego that cannot take it. acknowledge the role of your ego, learn to understand it so that you can work with it.

x. do the cringe things. post a hundred reels on Instagram even if you get five likes on each. cringe at that part of you that cringes when you do the things you want instead of cringing at yourself. when you do that you're viewing yourself as a third-party judging yourself and honestly love aren't there thousands out there to do that job already? so then you stick to your job — support yourself no matter how you decide to live your life.

xi. love and romance are not the centre or purpose of your life. you are. the genre of your life is neither rom com nor tragic passionate romance. it's slice of life. love and romance will happen when it happens and will be one part of your life. but all the other parts? they belong to you — to your art and writing, to your joy and exploration of yourself and this world, to your family and friends, to food and cats, to travel and music, to peace and sleep. live a full life.

xii. set processes for your routine that streamline everything and make it easy. your morning work commute, your night skincare, going over your monthly budget, saving and investing for your goals, how you organize your life and time. and when problems show up, simply problem solve. don't take it personally, try to not feel dejected and doomed. and for the times you do, don't try to fix anything. take a shower, eat a good meal, go to sleep.

xiii. when setting boundaries, and when those boundaries are crossed, you don't have to break your head trying to get the other person to change their behaviour. instead, you should change your behaviour. if they cross a boundary, then that should be your cue for a behaviour change, a decision. don't be at the mercy of another's understanding and compassion to have your life be aligned to your needs and values.

xiv. three steps taken > three hundred steps planned. pausing for three months > abandoning for three years. three people you love and who love you > thirty people who are fluff. idk why three is the magic number here but you get the gist. moderation, my love, and balance. regulation and removal.

xv. cut out the noise. you'll figure out more of what that means as you begin to do it. it's social media, yes. it's societal conditioning, yes. but it's also the things your loved ones say despite having the best intentions at heart for you. it's the things the younger you believed and thought and wrote. it's the friends and lovers who come and go and don't really know you well. it's all of it. you have to cut out the noise. build noise-cancelling headphones for your soul over time and carry them with you everywhere.

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ereardon · 1 year

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Friends Don't || Chapter 2

Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, mention of doctors/illness/crashes, illusion to death, blood

WC: 2.1K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Got everything you need, Sunny?”

You turned around. Bob was standing in the doorway to your room, wearing a pair of blue striped pajama pants and a white t-shirt that hung off his lean frame. You smiled and nodded. “Think I’m good for the night at least.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you crossed your bare legs and looked around the room. It was a mess. You were waiting on the rest of your stuff to get shipped from your Brooklyn apartment where you had been living for the last eight months, so all you had were the two suitcases that you’d taken on the plane, now spread out on the ground, their contents spilled across the hardwood floors.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you said quietly.

Bob tipped his head. “Don’t have to thank me, darlin’. It’s your house now, too.”

It was a sweet little two bedroom house, only a fifteen minute drive from the beach. But it was sparsely decorated. Your room had just a bed and a dresser, no art, no rugs, no lamps. “What are your thoughts on letting me redecorate, in that case?”

He laughed. “What, you don’t like my style?”

“Bachelor chic? You’re about one step above a 20-something guy in Bushwick who has his mattress on the floor so that he’s closer to the Earth but the reality is that he has fifty dollars in his bank account so when he asks you on a date he takes you to his sweaty roof in July and plays shitty guitar music and tries to mansplain to you the difference between IPA and other beers.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you haven’t actually met guys like that.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve met every single kind of guy you could ever imagine.”

“Well, if my options are Brooklyn douche or you redecorate, by all means Sunny, do whatever you’d like with the place. I’ll leave my credit card on the kitchen table.”

You stood up and crossed the room. “No way. It’s on me. I want to do this for you. Make a nice house so one day you can have some lucky girl over and she won’t get the immediate ick when she sees that you still have gray sheets and brown towels.”

“What’s wrong with gray sheets?”

You shook your head. “Trust me, Bobby.”

“Sure, honey,” he whispered. You took one step closer, wrapping your arms around him. Bob immediately folded you into an embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered. “Thank God you’re home safe.”

“Were you worried about me, Sunny?” he asked quietly, his low voice rumbling.

“I worry about you every fucking day,” you murmured into his chest. “When you’re flying and I don’t know where you are. When you’re on the ground somewhere far from wherever I am. All I can think about is the next time we’re going to talk. The next time I'll know for a fact that you’re safe. And then that call comes and I’m elated. But it has to end sometime, right? So when it ends, the second you hang up, I’m back to being worried about you.”

Bob pulled away, his hands folded into yours. “You worry too much, Reid. I’m always gonna be here for you. Always have been.”

How could he forget? There was a reason you were scared all the time. You had almost lost him to the skies once.

You were living in San Francisco and Bob was stationed out of Lemoore. It was the closest the two of you had ever lived since you graduated, four years prior.

That’s when you got the call.

“Reid Coleman?”

You sat up straight at your desk chair, looking out the window over Market Street. If you really craned your neck, you could see the Ferry Building. “This is.”

“I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Robert Floyd has been in an accident. You were listed as his emergency contact.”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, heart plummeting in your abdomen. “Is he OK?”

“He’s sustained injuries, ma’am,” the person on the other end of the line said.

You didn’t even register that the phone had fallen from your grasp until you heard it drop to the floor at your feet. You were out the door in a second, practically barreling down to the lobby of the building, fingers shaking as you tried to search for rental cars nearby.

The three-and-a-half hour drive went by in an instant, and it was the longest car ride you had ever been on. Every single second all you could think of was the fact that Bob could have died out there.

And that the last thing you might have said to him was that you hated him.

By the time you arrived on base it was dark. You barreled through the hospital doors, panting as you made your way to the nurses station. “Robert Floyd?” you asked, panicked.

“And you are?”

“His emergency contact.”

The nurse nodded. “Follow me.”

You trailed after her down the hallway, the clacking of your high heels on the linoleum floor the only noise in the sterile hallway.

She stopped in front of the door. “He’s intubated,” she warned you. “So he can’t speak.”

You nodded and she opened the door. But you weren’t ready for what you saw. Bobby, lying there on the bed, with a thick clear tube sticking out of his throat and mouth, taped to his lips, the whirring sound of the machines as they kept him alive. The way he practically blended into the white linens of the bed he looked so pale and fragile.

You collapsed onto a chair next to his bed, taking his hand, the one that didn’t have an IV in it, into yours, letting your salty tears fall onto his cold skin.

“Bobby,” you whispered, voice thick with tears and pain. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, Bobby, come back to me.”

He stayed in a coma for three days. You spent nearly every waking moment at his bedside, watching him with bated breath, waiting for some semblance of life to overtake him because the boy lying there in that hospital bed was not your best friend. He was a stranger. He didn't look or feel at all like the boy you had come to love over the last seven years.

And then, on the third day, you heard a familiar voice.

“Sunny?”

It was dry and scratchy. That morning the doctors had taken out the intubation and said he was awake, and you had rushed over from the hotel. There were tears in your eyes as you bolted through the doorway to where Bob was sitting up in bed, his glasses settled on his nose, a slow pinkness coming back to his rounded cheeks.

You bent in half over the edge of the bed, sobs wracking your body, silent tears streaming down your face. Bob reached out one hand, softly patting your hair. “Honey, don’t cry.”

You pulled away, looking up into his familiar blue eyes. He had looked so small before, and that had terrified you. He looked like himself again. Like the Bobby who had picked you up and carried you halfway across campus when you accidentally stepped on a rusted nail and had to go to the ER. He looked like the Bobby who had dared you to go into the caves in Vietnam even though you were terrified of small spaces. He looked like the Bobby that you loved with every cell in your body.

He looked like your Bobby again.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

“Never going to lose me, darlin’,” he murmured back.

You sniffled, gripping his hand.

Bob’s eyes widened after a moment. Then, “Wait. Where’s Denver?”

You raised your eyes to him, unable to say it but knowing that they could convey what had happened without words, and watched as your best friend fell apart right in front of you.

***

“OK Floyd, spill.”

“Spill what?” Bob asked, tossing down a hand of cards. Payback laid his cards down. Two pair. He grabbed the pile of chips in the middle of the table and slid them closer, stacking them up with his own poker chips.

“About Reid, Floyd,” Phoenix said, exasperated. “These two boneheads,” she pointed at Hangman and Rooster, “want to know if she’s fair game.”

“Hey!” Coyote pouted. “So do I.”

Bob shook his head as Fanboy dealt a new round of cards. “She’s not my girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So we can ask her out,” Hangman was practically salivating. “Cause she’s hot as fuck.”

Bob raised his head and glared at the blond. Hangman put his hands up in a defensive maneuver.

“Woah, chill Floyd.”

“She already turned you down, Bagman,” Phoenix chimed in.

“She didn’t turn down Rooster,” Payback pointed out. “Or should I call him Chicken Man.”

All eyes turned to Bradley, who took a sip of his beer. Then, “Never said I was gonna ask her out.”

Bob sighed, trading in three cards from the five card draw. “Sunny is an adult,” he said. “She can do whatever she wants. So Rooster, if you want to ask her out, you’re free to. It’s up to her if she says yes or not.”

Bradley nodded, tossing out one card, waiting for Fanboy to deal him a replacement. “Maybe I will.”

Bob pursed his lips, grabbing for his beer glass, taking a chug and then slamming it down. He didn’t realize how forceful he was until the glass shattered on impact in his hand, sending beer rushing over the table and down the sides. Everyone jumped up in a panic.

“Shit, baby on board, what the fuck?” Hangman called as he rushed to grab a roll of paper towels.

“I’m sorry,” Bob shook his head. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Come here,” Phoenix said, grabbing his arm and tugging him into the kitchen. She held his hand over the sink, pulling out a small splinter of glass from his palm, running the bloody hand under water. She doused it in soap and he winced at the sting.

“Thanks,” Bob said as Phoenix wrapped his hand in a clean dish towel in Hangman’s kitchen.

She looked up at him, knowingly. “You can say no to them, you know.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Phoenix sighed. “Yes you do. Reid. You don’t want those idiots to touch her.”

Bob grimaced. “She’s a big girl. If she wants to go out with them, she can.”

“Just admit it,” Phoenix said. “She is more than just your best friend.”

Bob’s blue eyes bore into hers. “Sunny is, and always will be, the love of my life. I’m just not hers.”

***

You looked through the sliding glass door to where Bob was carefully peeling an orange at the kitchen table, his eyes glued on the TV hanging over the mantle.

“Ms. Coleman, have you found a new physician in the San Diego area? If not, I can recommend one to you. But it’s imperative that you go in for new scans immediately.”

You sighed. “I’m working on it.”

“Ms. Coleman.” The voice on the other end of the line was hard. “This is no joking matter.”

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that?” you hissed.

“I’m going to email you a list of five physicians in the area.”

“They’re going to say exactly what you said,” you whispered.

“You need to get a second opinion. And either way, you need a local physician now that you’ve relocated.”

“Fine,” you said. “Send me the names.”

“Ms. Coleman?”

“Yeah?”

“Please make an appointment.”

You clicked off the phone and slid open the door. Bob had moved to the couch, one arm slung over the low back.

“Everything OK?” he asked.

You nodded, walking around the edge of the couch and settling into the spot next to him. Without even thinking, you leaned into Bob’s side, letting his arm fall around your shoulders, tucking you into his side.

“Sunny?” he asked softly. He read you like an open book. He could practically see the anxiety and tension radiating off of your skin.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile before resting your head against his thigh, lifting your feet onto the other end of the couch, lying down so that Bob’s hand was now firmly pressed against the dip in your side where your ribcage ended.

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar smell, letting yourself relax, feeling your heart rate slow.

“Everything is going to be fine,” you murmured.

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ballblender · 11 months

Note

Could you write for KNB where gn reader has tattoos that are usually covered up with their school uniform and during the summer vacation training at the beach everyone gets to see them?

Not sure which school you wanted me to write for, so i just made a scenario with Seirin + GOM/Vorpal Swords :>

Beach Training Camp!

Kuroko No Basuke with Tattooed!Reader

Kinda long, I like writing about KNB characters a lot, they're too silly.

It’s not like the guys hadn’t noticed the way you’d slyly pull down your already-long sleeves in front of them during practice. It got to the point where the team thought you were ashamed of your body, which led to a little intervention where they sat you down and started listing things that they liked about your personality, much to your confusion. They got really into it too: tearing up by the end. It was only until Kuroko muttered "You don't have to feel insecure around us, ok?" that you realised what they were trying to do.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because that's not the reason I wear long sleeves!" you laugh out, clutching your stomach. "I thought you guys were trying to kick me out nicely!"

"...So what is the reason?" Koganei asks, Mitobe nodding along.

You chuckle a little more, still amused thinking about how long they must've been thinking this way.

"...Don't snitch."

The moment you pull up your sleeve, their eyes widen in disbelief...

...and not long after, the questions come flooding in.

"Is that a lizard?"

"Idiot, it's a dragon."

"Does this mean you're in a gang?"

"I thought the age to get a tatoo in Japan was 20."

"How did you get that?"

"Is it real?"

You chuckle once more, used to this kind of reaction.

"I lived in America, and the state laws were pretty soft on tattoos as long as you have writte consent from an adult. Got my first one a year ago, and now we're here."

Some turned to Kagami for some kind of confirmation on those laws, but he just shrugged, equally as shocked as they were.

Anyway, the events of the big tattoo reveal were 4 months ago, and it's still funny to look back on, even in the backseat of Kagetora's car, as you talk with Riko.

"But really, I never thought you'd have an arm covered in ink."

You laugh again, before putting on a cheeky grin.

"If you thought that was unbelievable, you have more to look forward to." you snicker, reading her confused reaction. She scans your outfit for stray areas of revealed skin, but to no avail.

"The hell are you planning..."

As you turn up at the beach, helping to unload the basketball hoops from Kagetora's boot, you see some familiar faces waving in the distance.

"Y/N-chii! Over here!" yells Kise, soon met with Aomine's palm to the back of his head.

"Moron, we're in public, you know." utters Midorima, pushing up his glasses.

Akashi and Murasakibara sit at a bench; one studying the antics and dynamics of the other three, the other chomping on a box of ice pops.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting to see all of you guys here." you say, impaling the pole of the hoop into the sand.

"Kuroko invited us, I assume we can stay?" Akashi replies.

You nod, smiling. "Of course! We're just waiting on the him and the others now."

Riko grunts, "Seriously, how can you invite people and then be the person who's late!" she exclaims, kicking the sand in an animalistic manner, earning a few confused glances from the others.

You laugh a little, before turning away, bag in hand.

"I'm just going to change into my beachwear, I'll be back soon."

"MAKE IT QUICK!" Riko yells, as you nod.

During your outfit change, the Seirin team turns up, jumping off the bus.

Immediately, Kuroko is met by a slap to the back of the head.

"Kuroko! If you wanna invite guests, tell your coach first!"

Kuroko mutters a little apology, timidly side-stepping away from her.

Eventually, a match begins. The Generation of Miracles on one, the Seirin team on the other.

Aomine gets a steal early on, before realising he can't dribble.

"Aomine-chii! Pass to me, don't just stand there, what are you looking at?" yells Kise, before his eyes land on you, jogging over with a more comfortable outfit for the heat.

"Hey, have you guys already started playing?"

Everybody just stares.

"...Hello?"

Riko is the first to say something.

"Lord."

There you stand, both arms littered with tattoos, along with ink traced along you collarbone and across your back. And don't forget the thighs.

"...What?" You ask, confused by the sudden attention.

Kuroko's eyes are just a little wider than usual, as he says, "I thought you only had one tattoo." You shrug, "Well, I didn't say I only had one tattoo."

Akashi squints his eyes at you from a distance, scrutinising you with his gaze.

"They look nice."

Aomine makes a point to act unbothered, but inside, he's freaking out. "oh my god they're a gang member i'm literally gonna get my ass beat holy shit i'm not ready i haven't even won an oscar before oh jesus i can't die like this i'm too young"

Kise on the other hand is very loud, commenting on all sorts of things, “Did you get those done here? In America? I have a fellow model with a similar design to that!”

Murasakibara just stares like a confused child, just glad that you’re here so that he doesn’t have to move around as much.

Midorima is also a member of team act unbothered, but backs up a bit. Not that he thinks that there's anything explicably wrong with having tattoos, but more so that Oha Asa predicted that "Cancers, watch out! You may encounter something or somebody dangerous today!". In hindsight, it was a ridiculous action to take; you'd always been so kind and welcoming to him and his team in previous matches and practice games, but we wasn't going to take the chance.

Kiyoshi is the first, and only person to laugh; he also laughed when you showed the team your first tattoo, he just finds these kinds of situations amusing.

Hyuuga and Kagami take the scolding route, half-heartedly berating you as you look at them kind of confused, they don't really mean anything, they just don't know how to respond to this kind of thing.

Izuki finds a way to crack a joke about the whole affair, much to the surprise of absolutely nobody.

Mitobe and Koganei compare notes scrawled on a little pad.

"Ha! I predicted it! 7 tattoos!" Koganei exclaims, as Mitobe sighs softly and hands him a ¥1000 note.

You giggle and clap your hands together.

"Let's continue the match!"

--------

Thanks for the ask!! Can you tell who my favourite characters are from the amount written for each LOL

Also omg an opportunity to write about Riko I will take any chance i get i love her personality so much

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #kuroko tetsuya #aomine daiki #midorima shintarou #kise ryōta #murasakibara atsushi #akashi seijuro #kagami taiga #kiyoshi teppei #hyuuga junpei #izuki shun #mitobe rinnosuke #koganei shinji #riko aida

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libraryofloveletters · 8 months

Text

The Wavelengths I'd Go For You

Thiago Alcantara x Fem!Reader

Warnings: summer time fluff, thiago is the sweetest boyfriend ever, cheeky teasing and flirting + some remarks from thiago, lots of touchy feely moments, alcohol and the consumption of, a sunset something - you'll see :))

Word Count: 3.1k

Author's Note: the fact that I had to search soooo deep for this gif is a crime // based on a convo @curiousthyme and I had about how sweet husband thiago would be so to the 6 thiago fans out there, this one's for you

---

The sunshine in Mallorca welcomed you, a way of telling you that you were home in every sense of the word.

You and your boyfriend, Thiago, were spending a week there before heading up to see his family. You had been on the go constantly for the last few months with Thiago's game schedule and your work projects so this time away was much welcomed.

It's barely 10am when your boyfriend comes back into the bedroom, flopping down onto the bed next to you. "Mi amor, despierta," (my love, wake up) he whispers into your ear, his chin on your shoulder.

You shrug your boyfriend off of you, pulling the duvet over your head. "Alejarse de mí," (get away from me) you grumbled from under the blanket, making him laugh.

"C'mon babe," he nudges your arm and you finally give in, pulling the blanket down to look over at him.

Thiago was fully awake and dressed, as if he was going somewhere - the beach perhaps.

"What do you want?" You asked, pulling his hand up so you could see the watch on his wrist. "It's barely 10, what could you possibly need right now? We are on vacation, in case you forgot"

He nods, "I know, so come on."

"Where?"

"Just get dressed, like you're going to the beach," he gets off the bed, pulling you up and off of it.

You grumble, the man walking you in the direction of the bathroom. "Is that where we're going? Because it'll still be there after noon, T." You smiled sweetly at him, hoping he'd let you go back to bed.

He shook his head, "it's a surprise," he smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Go get dressed," he nudges you into the bathroom and shuts the door."

Thiago did this often - he was always one for a surprise and typically, they were scheduled for the ass crack of dawn; the downside of dating someone who's an early riser.

It was better to give in rather than resist; you learnt that the hard way.

You did just that. It took you a hot minute to pull yourself together, slowly making your way though your morning routine before you finally got dressed for the day, 'for the beach' he said. A green bikini to match the green shorts you noticed he had on, and a yellow sundress pulled over it.

"Where are you?" You called, walking through the house.

It's quiet, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found but you can see the front door was opened. You peek outside and find him closing the trunk. "Ready?" he smiles.

You nod, walking down the few steps to the driveway. "Why are you so smiley? It's soooo early."

"It's 10:30, cariño." Thiago laughed, opening the car door for you. You nod, your hand on his jaw, "exactly - too early."

The man shakes his head at your dramatics, clearly amused. He walks over to the front door, locking up the house before getting into the car and pulling out. You look over at him, your hand reaches for his and Thiago instantly takes your hand, interlocking fingers with you.

"Where are we going? Are we almost there yet?" You asked him yet again in the 10 minutes you had been driving. Thiago bit his tongue, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"How many times will you ask me that?"

"Until you tell me," you smiled, making him chuckle. You had no idea where you were going. You hadn't been to Mallorca in years, at least not since you and Thiago began dating 10 years ago and so much has changed both there and in your lives.

When you met Thiago, the two of you were barely in your 20s; he was on the 1st team at Barcelona and living his dream while you were in university. You had moved with him when he transferred to Bayern Munich and then again to Liverpool. You had both grown and changed so much, you learnt more and more about life and each other.

There was no one else you wanted to spend your life with.

"I'm not going to tell you," he glances over, smiling at you.

Since he wouldn't tell you, you began your guessing game. "Are we going to the beach?"

"No."

"Are we going for a picnic?"

"No."

"Are we going toooo... get married?" You threw that one in there for fun but it seemed to catch him off guard. Thiago whipped his head in your direction so quickly, you're certain he's given himself whiplash - not to mention your first thought was dear god don't let him injure himself again, he can't sit out another game.

"What?" He asks you quickly, confusion, shock and a bit of surprise on his face. "Why would you even ask me that?"

"Not you being offended," you laughed. "I'm kidding, Thiago. Don't have a heart attack." You squeezed his hand, the man turns into a winding street which takes you down towards a place you had been mentioning since before you even arrived in Mallorca.

You smiled, sitting up a little straighter. "The marina?" You look over at him. "We're having a yacht day?"

"Just for the day," he smiles, pulling into the lot. "So you shut up about it." He teased, making you roll your eyes before you get out of the car.

Thiago takes the bags out of the trunk, leading you towards the boat. He puts the stuff on, leaning over to help you on before you settle in and he drives it into open waters. After you two had come to a stop, your boyfriend found his way below deck to put the food away for the time being and you had stripped off the sundress and laid out in the sun, letting your body relax and become sun kissed.

Laying on your tummy, your eyes closed and your face buried between your folded arms, you can feel the sunshine and the warm breeze along the exposed skin. It wasn't that much longer when you feel someone's cold hands pinch your hip, making you jump.

"Thiago!" You rolled away from him, scolding him.

The man laughs, lifting your right leg to slot between them, letting you rest your leg on his lap. "Sorry, sweetheart." He rubs the back of your thigh, "didn't mean to startle you - but to be fair, it is just us out here."

"Well obviously," you mumbled, "but I wasn't expecting you to appear out of thin air." You flung your foot back, hitting him in the side. He smiles at your action, holding your flailing leg down by your calf and rubbing along your soft skin.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend. "Can you rub some lotion on my back for me?"

Thiago nods, reaching for the bottle that was discarded on the floor. It's oily and sticky, as you had used it and set it back down with your lotion covered hands; he's certain that's what had happened. The man squeezes a dollop of the sun lotion in his hand, rubbing them together before resting his hands on your ass, or at least what was exposed.

"Babe!" You laughed, looking back at him. "I meant on my back!"

He ignores your words for a few moments, his fingers kneading over the flesh before looking at you. "You didn't specify."

"I figured it was implied."

Your boyfriend shrugs, moving his hands up your back and slowly working the lotion into your skin before moving to lay beside you. Thiago's on his back, an arm stretched out in front of you and the other propped under his head. Even with his sunglasses on, you can see his eyes are closed. You scoot a bit closer to the man, pulling the glasses down to the bridge of his nose.

"Hi, T." You peaked his lips with yours and he smiled, the arm that was stretched out pulled you down against him. "Hi, y/n."

"What's the plan?"

"Relax."

"Why?"

"No, I mean, the plan is to relax." He smiled, making you giggle at your misunderstanding. "Oh, okay."

It's at least an hour that's passed before you two attempt to move from your spot. Thiago sits up, pushing his sunglasses onto his head before turning to look at you.

"How about a swim?" He asks and he barely finishes his sentence before you up, flinging your legs to get the slippers off and you're heading towards the stairs. "What's the rush?" He asks, dropping his sunglasses on the chair, slipping off his own shoes.

"The last one into the water has to pick up the laundry when we get back!" You shouted to him, sprinting down the stairs to the platform.

You'd think for someone who gets paid to run up and down a 100 foot long football pitch, he'd be faster but instead he leans over the railing, shouting as you jumped into the freezing water. "That's not fair!"

You shouted back. "You're a sore loser!"

A few moments later, your boyfriend finds his way down to the platform before diving into the water.

You clap for him, "10 out of 10, darling!" Thiago laughs, bowing half way as you swam over to him.

He smiles, his arms reaching for you to pull you against him, your own arms over his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for a bit, floating around.

The ice cold water was a welcomed change from the Spanish sun you had been lazing in all day; not to mention a shock to all of your bodily systems.

Eventually, you leave him in the water and get back onto the platform, sitting at the edge with your legs hanging into the cold water. Thiago was doing a lap around the boat and only realized you had gotten out when he returned to the back. The man swims over, slotting himself between your legs, his arms on your thighs.

You watch as your boyfriend passes his hand over his wet hair, slicking it down. You undo it; passing your hand through his hair, watching as the little curls reform themselves after the motion. You twirl a few strands of his short hair between your fingers, smiling to yourself - you love his hair, especially when he grows it out enough for you to see the curls.

Thiago's cheek pressed to your thigh, basking in the sunshine and your affection until he calls it quits - his arms on either side of you as he pulls himself up and out of the water, and.. well onto top of you.

"Seriously?" You asked, laying flat against the wet platform.

He rolls off of you, laying beside you. "Seriously." He scrunches his nose at you, making you laugh yet again. You flip over, onto your stomach as your arm drapes over his middle. Thiago can feel your fingers across the large tattoo on his side. Slowly, your fingers trace out the letters and the words, going line by line - not missing a single one.

"How about lunch?" He asks, getting up and pulling you up with him. You nod, "considering that you pulled me out of my bed and didn't let me eat anything, yeah, lunch would be great."

Thiago laughs, dramatic as always he thinks. His hand rests on your lower back as you two head up the stairs and back onto the deck.

"Need help?" You asked, about to follow him to the kitchen and he shook his head, turning you back in the direction of the table.

"Go sit, I'll be out in a minute."

"What are you hiding?" Your brows furrowed but he shook his head, "I'm innocent of whatever crimes you're thinking of."

You take a seat at the table, Thiago does return but a minute later with a basket in hand. You help him unpack the basket - he lets you do that much - before you two settle down and have lunch.

It was well after 4 in the afternoon, rolling towards 5 when you wrapped up lunch. You two had been lazing around for a bit, enjoying each other's company and the day before Thiago got up to clean up the mess you made.

"Gonna jump back in before we head in, wanna join me?" He walks over to you, his body blocking the sun from you. You shook your head, "I'm gonna stay up here," you smiled, reaching out to hold his hand.

Thiago leans down, giving you a kiss before standing up again. "Be careful," you tell him, the man drops his sunglasses next to you.

"I will," he smiles, giving you one more kiss before walking away.

You can hear when he jumps into the water. It had been pretty quiet today, a few other boats had passed by but other than that, it was just the two of you all day. Now you aren't sure how long Thiago was in the water, your eyes had shut and you dozed off for a bit.

When you wake up, or rather, when you were startled awake, he was leaning over you, dripping freezing cold water all over you.

"Thiago!" You squealed, trying to wiggle away from your boyfriend. The man's got his arms on either side of you, trapping you under him.

"Give me a kiss and I'll move," he tells you, leaning down for a kiss.

You groan, hands pressed to his chest to push him away. "Thiago! Move!" You giggled but you knew he wouldn't let up.

He didn't; his lips puckered as he waited for you to give him a kiss.

Reaching up, your hand rests on his cheek, giving him a kiss before he drops himself down on top of you. "Babe, c'mon." You huffed, your arms wrapping around him.

He smiles, nuzzling against you. "Stop complaining, we all know you love it."

You roll your eyes; he was right, you did love it. He holds you for a bit, the two of you enjoying each other's company once again until the sun, once bright in the sky, starts to slip away under the horizon.

"Time to head in hm?" You tell him, the two of you sitting up.

Thiago nods, getting up to finally dry off - a useless action seeing that he's dripped all of the water onto you. You follow suit, wiping off the excess water before putting your dress back on. Thiago dug out a beige sweater you had bought him for Christmas years ago, pulling it on.

"I can't believe you still have that." You say, walking towards him. He glances down, shrugging. "I thought we lost it during the move but I found it in a box downstairs.

You reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. "Thank you," you tell him, letting him pull you to him. His hands resting on your lower back as your own arms go over his shoulders.

"What for?" His cheek pressed to yours, the two of you swaying side to side.

"Today.. for everything." You whispered, leaning back in his arms. "I love you, Thiago."

He smiles, "I love you, y/n."

Your boyfriend spins you around, hugging you from behind as you two watch the sunset for a bit. He had already driven you back in a bit, you were still a good ways from the marina but much closer than you were before. At least now you could see land.

"Champagne?" He asks, his chin on your shoulder. Your hand reaches back, pressed to his cheek. "What are we celebrating?"

"Us," he smiles, turning to kiss your cheek before walking away to get the champagne and the glasses.

You hadn't noticed when he returned, your phone was in your hand as you took a photo of the sunset. Thiago sets the glasses and the bottle down on the table quietly before calling for you. "Babe ?"

When you turned around, you expected to find Thiago with glasses, not on his knee with a ring box.

"What are you doing?" You ask, eyes widen, brows furrowed as you look at him.

Thiago smiles, "y/n, you are.. the love of my life. The last ten years of my life have been the very best; there's not a single person in the world that I would rather spend the rest of my life with, because you are everything I could have ever imagined. The perfect woman in every sense of the word; you understand me, you take care of me and I could never repay you for that."

You can't help the giggle that leaves your lips; he's so cheesy.

"Strong and beautiful and smart, and god, you.. I don't think there are words to explain how much I love you. I'm rambling now, I'm nervous - sorry."

"Why are you nervous? It's just me." You laughed and Thiago smiled.

He glances at the ring and back at you. "Y/n, I love you so much, you are the woman I have always dreamt about; the first person I think of in the morning and the last person on my mind before I go to bed. When I'm away from home, all I can think of is coming home to you. You're my home, y/n. You're my dream woman, the person I.."

"You're rambling," you purse your lips, making him laugh.

"Y/n.. will you make me the happiest man on the planet and marry me?"

"Yes," you smiled, "I'll marry you, T."

He stands, slipping the ring onto your finger; a perfect fit. Your hands rest on his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss. "I love you." You whisper against his lips.

"I love you," he smiles, giving you another kiss. "Shall we open the champagne?"

You nod, watching as he reaches for the bottle. Thiago shakes it before popping the cork, the gold coloured liquid spraying all over the two of you and the deck, making you laugh. Your fiancé filled two glasses, handing one over to you.

"Cheers," you tapped your glass to his. "To us," he nods, mirroring your action.

Thiago hugs you from behind, the two of you facing the setting sun once again. "Was this what today was all about?" You asked, holding out your hand to admire your ring; gold band, emerald cut diamond with two smaller stones at the base of it.

"I wanted it to be perfect." He smiles, resting his chin on your shoulder yet again. "It was," you smile when Thiago reaches for your hand, bringing it up to his lips to give it a kiss.

You can't help but lean back against him; happiness and content washing over you.

You were certain you had done something right in your past life, otherwise you wouldn't have become so lucky.

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels - @curiousthyme and @percervall because I know how much they love thiago :)

#thiago alcantara #thiago alcantara x reader #thiago alcantara x you #thiago alcantara x y/n #thiago alcantara imagine #football #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football fanfic #football fluff #football fic #football imagine #football one shot #lfc fic #lfc imagine

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

Text

Trouble in Paradise | 0.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), smut, p-in-v, unprotected sex, eventual angst but not rlly in this chapter

…

You saw Rooster again after three days of radio silence.

The weekend was over and it was Monday. You had convinced Abi to let you switch shifts with one of the other girls so that you had the day off. It's one of the hottest days of the year so far and you make the most of it.

You spend the day on the beach at the back of the house with a couple of your friends.

"He's such a fucking asshole," Ella muttered as she kicked back against her towel, taking a sip of her beer. "Three whole months wasted."

She’s lamenting about her most recent failed relationship. She had been dating one of the groundskeepers of a resort near her restaurant. He had broken up with her the night before.

"You're better than him anyway," You answer. You're laying down on your front, trying to get through the book you had bought six weeks ago. "He was a tool."

"Not all of us have sexy pilots who show up and sweep us off our feet, babe." Kit laughs. She's on the other side of you, laying on her back with one arm over her eyes to protect them from the sun.

You scoff and shift on the towel, hoping that neither of them can see the way your cheeks heat up at the mention of him.

"My feet are still firmly on the ground, thank you." You bite your cheek to keep from smiling and bury your head in the book. He is sexy.

"'Til he shows up again," Ella grins, lifting her sunglasses to look over at you, "Then it'll be..." She kicks her legs up in the air. You groan and throw the book at her, burying your face in the crook of your elbow to hide the way your face burns at how right she is.

Kit finds that hysterical.

Rooster sighs softly as he realises that no one is home. He glances around. Your truck is in the driveway. He pushes the keys of his rental car into his pocket and jogs around to the side of the house. He's about to knock on the side gate when he hears laughing to his right.

He walks to the top of the steps and lifts his sunglasses. He squints. The beach is pretty busy today with people making the most of the heat. There are three girls laying around on beach towels a little while down the beach. One is led on her back, she's the one laughing. The other is sitting back, propped up on her elbows and grinning. Rooster recognises her first, she was one of the girls in the living room last time he was here.

He recognises you next. You're on your front, your back is to him. You’re in a different bikini than the one he got to see you in last time. This one is black and high cut, giving him an incredible view of your ass from the top of the hill. He swallows, dropping his sunglasses back down as he begins down the steps.

"Speak of the devil." Kit sees him first, she's facing the steps. It's hard to miss him. Your eyes widen as you look back over your right shoulder and spot him heading your way.

"Please ask him if he has a friend." Ella whispers.

You laugh at her as you stand up.

Rooster’s wearing a backwards baseball cap and sunglasses but it’s still very clearly him. Kit’s just admiring the fact he doesn’t have a shirt on.

“He looks like he was like,” Ella shakes her head, “Sculpted by Michaelangelo or something.”

“Bet he’s hung better than David.” Kit laughs.

You decide that you don’t want him overhearing this conversation and begin towards him, meeting him halfway.

“Hey.” You smile, “I thought you’d be at work.”

He nods, “I was, got done early and figured I’d come see you. Are you busy?”

You hope that he can’t tell that your smile just widened a little. You figure it’ll wear off soon. This school girl excitement that fills you every time he reveals you’re on his mind.

You glance back at Kit and Ella. They’re unashamedly watching both of you, Ella has pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and Kit is using her palm to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Just hanging out,” You explain as you look back to Rooster. He smiles, lifting his hand and waving at them — they both smile awkwardly as they realise they’ve been spotted, waving back shyly. “Um, what did you have in mind?”

“Could take a drive,” He shrugs his broad shoulders, “See some sights.”

“Be tourists?” You laugh. He smiles and nods his head.

“Are you going to make me say please?”

He watches as you take your lip between your teeth and laugh softly again. “Was thinking about it.” You admit.

Rooster looks you over. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles along your waist without meaning to. The action makes you shiver in the swelling heat. He purses his lips as he lifts his eyes to look at you again, the corner of his lip quirks.

“Please.” He speaks gently, his deep voice making your breath catch in your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” Kit breathes from behind you, startling you. You had actually forgotten that there were other people on the beach for a moment. Rooster smirks, his eyes not leaving yours.

“He’s so fucking hot.” She mutters as she throws herself back down against her towel and draped her arm back over her eyes.

Your cheeks burn as Rooster’s smirk grows before you. Being a tourguide doesn’t sound so bad if it’ll get him out of earshot of those two.

“Sure, let’s go be tourists.” You agree. Rooster nods triumphantly. He pushes his hands into his pockets as he watches you turn and collect a few of your belongings. You know what you’re doing. His eyes are on the black fabric between your legs as you bend over.

He forgets for a moment that your roommate is watching him.

When he feels eyes on him, he turns his head slightly and meets Ella’s gaze. She’s smirking at him. He chuckles, caught and turns — pretending to look around the rest of the beach.

“Oh,” You realise as you stand back upright. You motion to each of them and then him, “Rooster, this is my roommate Ella, and our friend Kit. Girls, this is Rooster.”

Rooster smiles politely as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his black board shorts, giving them a courteous nod, “Nice to meet you.”

“Anyway — I’m gonna show him around the island,” You step forward and pass your backpack into his hands, slipping your phone into your back pocket. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Have her back by 10! It’s a school night!” Kit jokes, grinning at the two of you.

“Yes ma’am.” Rooster laughs as you tap his shoulder and begin walking up the beach. He follows you up the beach with your backpack in his hand, slowing slightly as you get the stairs.

It’s a flimsy bikini, really. His eyes are on your ass as you conquer the stairs, you can practically feel his eyes on you.

“So, what do you wanna see first?” You ask as you reach the top and begin along the path towards the road. Rooster startles you, sliding his arms around your waist, lowering his lips to your ear and whispering,

“Everything.”

After a split second of tension, Rooster feels you melt back against him. You’re grinning as he kisses your cheek, letting him pull you tight against his warm, bare chest.

“Hey,” You elbow him playfully and wriggle free, “No funny business on my tour, flyboy.”

“Then you’re gonna have to put some clothes on,” He muses watching as you walk a little ahead. “I’m not gonna be able to pay attention when you’re out here looking dressed like that.”

Your cheeks flush as you grab your backpack from him. You notice a new car parked out front as you turn back toward the road. It’s a black Toyota Tacoma pick up. You glance back at him and raise an eyebrow.

“Figured I needed a car,” Rooster explains, confirming that it’s his. “Rental place was out of classic Ford Broncos apparently.”

“Alright, well I’ve been drinking, so you should probably drive.” You shrug. You had just had a beer or two through the afternoon but watching him drive Kit’s car the other night was like free soft core porn so you head towards the pick up without further discussion. “I’ll do directions.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He slides into the driver’s side of the truck, adjusting his cap and turning on the engine. You set your backpack down on the bench between the two of you, grabbing a pair of shorts from it.

Rooster watches as you lift your hips and wriggle into the shorts.

“Alright, tell me which way.” He breaks his gaze from you, clearing his throat as he pulls the truck away from the curb. You smile softly as he messes with the radio. He settles on a soft rock station, mostly stuff from the seventies and early eighties.

You hum as you decide where you're going to take him. He's already seen the Harbor. You know that a guy like Rooster isn't going to be interested in seeing much of the city. But, with how hot it is today, you also don't feel like guiding him up a mountain trail.

"You ever been to the North Shore?"

He looks at you and shakes his head. You nod. The beaches up there are incredible, and things tend to get less busy the further from Honolulu you stray. You have a feeling he'll like it up there. It takes about an hour, but you don't have anywhere you need to be. You figure that he doesn't either.

"So, were you born here?" Rooster asks, glancing out the window as you navigate him along a coastal stretch. You shake your head as you put your feet across his lap, laying your head back against the truck door, letting the sun warm your cheeks,

"Nope."

He scoffs at your one word answer and squeezes your ankle. He can't take much time to admire while he's driving, but he really wishes he could. You look radiant with your legs stretched out across the bench, your head back against the window, the sun illuminating your skin.

"Did you move out here alone?" He asks, trailing his fingertips along the length of your shin as he steadies the wheel with his right hand. You nod at him, "Kinda. Moved out here to stay with Ella when I was eighteen."

He furrows his brows as he turns his head to look at you, "Your parents were okay with that?"

"I didn't ask." You say it so casually. "Came out here, started working. Still figuring out what comes next."

He looks off at the scenery ahead for a while. You know he's trying to figure out how to ask what he wants to know.

"I haven't spoken to my parents since I left." You tell him, beating him to asking the question. You had stopped telling guys about this a year or so ago. Usually they just saw you as a bratty kid with daddy issues after they found out.

Rooster looks out at the road ahead, bites his cheek for a moment and then decides to share too, "I lost my parents too."

You're surprised at the way he phrases it. Most people ask why you cut them off, they argue that you only have one set of parents and that you'll miss them when they're gone. You've never had someone recognise the loss that you felt after leaving - especially not as quickly as he just had.

"My dad when I was a kid, my mom when I was in college." He explains. You push yourself up and tilt your head as you look at him. That isn't what you imagined for him. You imagined devastatingly pretty parents sitting at home, probably in the south somewhere, gushing about how proud they were of their baby boy and waiting for him to show back up with some grandkids.

You wonder for a moment how many of your assumptions about him will be one day proven incorrect.

Rooster keeps his eyes on the road as you shift across the bench and curl yourself against his side, linking your arm through his and resting your head on his shoulder. You lift his hand and press your lips to his knuckles.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper against his hand. He hums as you snuggle closer to him. It’s disgustingly hot but he doesn’t dare move you. It’s nice to have someone at his side.

“So, where was home for you?” He asks gently. You answer him, he doesn’t seem too surprised. “How about you?” You ask back.

“Uh, kinda all over,” He shrugs. He moved around a lot when his dad was alive, anywhere to try to be closer to him, and then his mom moved between jobs a lot after his dad had passed. “Virginia before this.”

You lift your head to examine his face. The tanned skin, the sun-kissed curls under his backward cap, the moustache. Rooster observes the face you’re making and scrunches his nose at you.

“What?” He glances down.

“You don’t look like someone who lives in Virginia,” You comment, shrugging your shoulders back at him. “Like… you’re more California, maybe Hawaii vibes. Florida maybe?”

Rooster plays along, “Well, what does someone who lives in Virginia look like?”

“Y’know… like, farmer’s daughter, god-fearing, all American boys type stuff.” You look up at him again and smile, “You don’t seem too god-fearing to me.”

Rooster laughs.

Yeah, he guesses that he isn’t. He hasn’t ever really been a man of god. His father was. It’s not a part of Goose’s life that he’s ever been able to connect with.

Rooster knows what you mean. He supposes that a good, god-fearing man wouldn’t spend every moment of free time he has on a deployment with a pretty young girl thinking about all of the things he wants to do to her. He doesn’t mind not being that guy.

“What’s in Virginia anyway? — What do you do for fun there?” You ask.

“It’s pretty.” He truly doesn’t have any answers other than that. He isn’t going to tell you that he works as much as he can, comes home to his fiancée and that’s about it.

“Oh, hey, stop up here.” You point to a spot near the side of the road up ahead. Rooster does as he’s told, but doesn’t see anything special about this spot in particular. Still, he follows you out of the truck and toward the edge of the road.

It’s a steep drop off the edge. Rooster winces as you sit by it and dangle your legs over. He has to admit, it’s an incredible view, but his stomach churns at the sight of you sitting there with no harness or anything.

You turn to invite him to come sit with you and pause upon seeing his face. Your brows scrunch. You glance between him and the drop. He’s standing a couple of steps further back than you are, looking queasy.

“Rooster,” You speak gently, your tone totally serious, “Are you afraid of heights?”

The fighter pilot’s features harden. He shakes his head quickly. But then takes a step back. “No.” His tone is defensive, “No. I’m not. But fuck that.”

You laugh, kicking your legs out over the edge, watching as he has to squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head.

“Okay, you need to move,” He shivers at the sight, shaking his head again, “Get up. Please.”

“Look, it’s fine, it’s pretty!” You’re just teasing him on purpose at this point.

“Oh my fucking god,” He turns, unable to watch. “Seriously those rocks are going to give any second, please get the fuck up.”

You push yourself to your feet as quietly as you can, then lunge forward and wrap your arms around him. A breath of audible relief slips his lips as he turns to face you.

“Don’t fucking do that.” He grumbles, lifting your chin to look you in the eye. He takes one more look out at where you were just sitting and shivers again. You laugh against his bare chest.

“Yes, sir.” You agree finally, lifting your hand and saluting him. He takes your hand in his, tucks your thumb and adjusts the angle, then repeats the motion with his hand guiding yours,

“There you go. If you’re gonna salute me, do it right.”

You push yourself up onto your tiptoes and kiss his lips, sliding your hands down his chest to rest at his waist, “Or what, Lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant now, huh?” He muses, brushing your hair back softly off of your face. He hums gently and kisses your lips once. “Come on, let’s move.” Really, he wants to go back to your place.

You shake your head and slide your hand further down his chest. Rooster glances down as he watches your hand move to cup him through his shorts.

“Here’s a good a place as any.” You tease him.

He raises his eyebrows at you. At first, you think he’s questioning the idea and about to tell you now. Then, as you look at him through the lenses of his sunglasses, you realise that he isn’t doubting you at all. He’s daring you.

Rooster has always been very protective of what’s his. He is a firm believer in PDA, but within reason. Maybe it’s a side-effect of living in Virginia, but his affection with Amy never went beyond kissing in public.

But now, he feels differently. It’s a secluded road on the wrong side of the mountain, overlooking miles of ocean. Even if someone were to see, no one knows him here.

Maybe if he were a god-fearing Virginian, he would’ve told you no. Would’ve told you to wait until he got you home. Maybe he wouldn’t have been up here with you instead of answering his fiancée’s phone calls.

But he wasn’t.

Instead, he wills you to make the first move. And you do.

Then you’re straddling his hips in the passenger side of the truck. His shorts are around his ankles and yours are on the dashboard, your bikini top is untied and in the footwell. Your hands brace your body against his broad, slightly sunburnt shoulders. You can feel the heat in your palms. He has one hand in your hair, one on your back.

“Fuck,” He grunts as he bucks his hips up into you impatiently, curling his fingers around your roots, “That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

You whimper, pressing your fingernails hard into his bicep. He tugs at your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your neck to him. He leans forward and presses his lips so your throat, rutting his hips upward to meet yours each time you came down on him. He sucks a soft purple mark into the spot just below your ear. High enough for it to be impossible to hide with clothing, discreet enough for your hair to cover it most of the time.

He shifts slightly under you, moving his hands down to grip your ass. He squeezes your cheeks in his hands, letting out a desperate moan. He tugs your hips forward, shifting the angle so that his cock drives up against your g-spot each time he fills you.

“I’m so close, fuck.” You kiss his shoulder, then his collarbone, grabbing desperately at the back of his neck to steady yourself. His lips part as he watches you lift your hips and drop back down again and again, your lips parted as you moan for him.

In the beginning of his six year relationship with Amy, he had been so careful. Condoms and the pill every single time, no exceptions. Until their third anniversary. They were in a hotel, every store was closed and they had nothing. So, they did it without.

Bradley learned quickly that the pill was actually pretty effective on its own. He hadn’t had to remember to pull out once in three years.

He doesn’t know how he’s expected to remember. Not when you look so pretty, moaning his name as you ride him. He’s so caught up in getting you there, his hand between your legs stroking your clit, that he doesn’t even notice how close he is himself.

Not until your eyes are rolling back in your head and you’re clenching around him. He gasps, grabbing your hips so hard it makes you yelp as he lifts your hips in time for him to coat your stomach instead.

He groans, letting his head fall forward to rest against your shoulder.

“Sorry,” He pants, squeezing the nape of your neck as he swallows hard and leans his head back. He kisses your temple lazily, “If I hurt you.”

You shake your head and giggle as you look down at the mess between you, “I’m all good.”

“Sorry about that too,” He breathes, chuckling softly, still trying to compose himself. “Made me lose my head for a sec, honey.”

You brush your fingers delicately over his scarred shoulder and kiss him eagerly, “Was hot.”

He helps you clean up with some tissues you found in the front pocket of your backpack, you get yourself dressed and he pulls his shorts back up. Then, there’s an hour long drive to get you back home.

You don’t mind at all, you rest your head against his thigh, resting your feet against the car door as he hums softly to the radio. He can carry a tune, which pleasantly surprises you. It’s even more of a surprise when he actually sings along softly to Tiny Dancer when you’re almost home. He has a good voice.

You watch him as he sings. It’s like he’s forgotten that you’re listening to him. You smile up at him, excited to discover whichever secrets he’ll next let you be privy too.

Rooster kisses you on the lips when he drops you off. He stays outside, watching until you’re in safely before he drives off. Then, he calls his fiancée and listens to her tell him about her day without a regret in his mind.

The longer he spends out here, the more comfortable the phrase ex-fiancée becomes to him in his mind. It’s becoming comfortable enough now that he considers that it’ll probably sound pretty natural coming off of his tongue when he tells you. Eventually.

After all, that’s what Amy is. That’s what she wanted to be. That’s what she chose to be, when she had left him.

Besides, these phone calls are just until she finds someone else to occupy her time. She gets lonely when he’s away and he doesn’t want to be a dick. They’ll stop eventually and when they do, he’ll be free to do and say whatever he pleases — not that there’s much holding him back currently.

“I went to the apartment today.” Amy tells him as he’s almost back at base. He furrows his eyebrows slightly but makes a noise of acknowledgement — a vague ‘oh really?’.

“My ring was on your bedside table,” She tells him. Bradley sits tight as he waits for her to tell him how sad it made her to see it — how hard it was going to be to move on. “I decided I’m going to start wearing it again.”

Bradley is silent on his side of the line. He’s trying to make sense of what the fuck she just told him, and also trying to not run any red lights. Amy takes his silence as confusion, and decides to elaborate for him.

“You know, since we’re making a go of things again.”

…

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theknightmarket · 2 months

Text

"Who wouldn't be angry?"

In which Wilford's return has less fanfare than what he hoped for. TW: cursing, slight sexual references Pages: 13 - Words: 5,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Closing up the bar was the best part of the night. After everyone had gone home, either willingly or under attack from your broom, and the only sound left was the quiet tap, tap, tap of a faucet someone forgot to turn off – that was when you felt perfectly at peace. The adrenaline of work was fun, of course, but reaping the rewards of a 20-dollar tip and pair of earphones made the 2 o’clock chime all the more satisfying.

You unwrapped the apron from your waist and tossed it over your bag. A wayward sex on the beach meant it would need washing before you could wear it again, not that you minded it too much. It was, after all, where that tip came from, and the man who spilt it was almost too apologetic. You’d had worse.

Dimly, as you wiped down the tables for the last time, you lamented the loss of your winter-holiday themed apron.

You preferred the Halloween one anyway, so it wasn’t a weight on your conscience that drew you to breaking into your bar late at night. The work kept you busy enough that you didn’t, and couldn’t, despair over small things. The taxes, the patrons, the staff – they were all great, but sometimes you did wish you had time for yourself. A Sunday off, once a month, that would be enough. But, as you said, no time to despair. There was still work to do.

That night, the work entailed taking the cash out of the register and tip jar, counting it, and stuffing it into the safe, locking all the interior doors and windows, and, finally, flicking the light switch. The neon pink sign blinked once, twice, and died out at its third breath, while you brought out your keys to officially lock the front door. The little hole-in-the-wall that the bar was, it didn’t run the risk of getting broken into too strongly, but there was no reason not to take precautions. You’d heard your neighbors tell you that it was so much a safe town that you needn’t bother locking everything. You told them that you quite liked having money, thank you very much, and there was no way in hell that you were going to pay any more for insurance.

The night’s air nipped at your face, reminding you that you were still standing outside. Your brain, meanwhile, reminded you that you weren’t on your couch, wrapped in a blanket, and watching random nature documentaries. It might have also said something about paying your rent, but you decided to ignore that part.

So, your frigid breath fading away in front of you, you waltzed down the four blocks between you and your apartment, watching the few other folk out and about make their own ways home. A group of teens scuttled across the road, technically jay walking but you weren’t going to say anything, while a ruffled office worker took off in a hurry in the other direction. Probably wanting to get into a safe place with the baggy of drugs stuffed into his suit pocket.

The town you lived in wasn’t a well-off one. It was two steps up from rock bottom, and only because the local deli hadn’t been closed down due to health hazards yet. You liked to think your bar made it better, but there were going to be people who didn’t agree. Those teens, for instance, who always threw crude remarks when you denied them a beer. You didn’t hold it against them. How could you, when you had done the same thing once or twice when you were a kid. It didn’t bother you anymore, so why not wait until they reached 21, or found good enough fake IDs.

You fished your keys out of your bag when you were at the stairs inside your apartment building. The little, pink bear was the only thing that distinguished it from any others, and you ran your fingers over the dimples and nicks as your legs moved for you. Fourth floor, second door on the left. Whistling the few beats of a song you could still remember from the radio, you spun the plastic toy around in the air, caught it with your other hand, and pushed it into your door.

The entry was cold. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but you were always reminded of the difference between the welcoming warmth of your bar and your home’s casual wave of air. Bringing a jacket with you was a moot point since you only needed it when you were actually inside. No, you just had to put up with it until you could get out of your work clothes and surround yourself with the fluffiest blankets you could find. You had this down to a fine art at that point, there was no reason why you couldn’t do it from muscle memory alone.

Your keys clattered to the wooden floorboards.

No anticipated reason. None at all. You should have been moving into your bedroom by now. You should have been leaving the line of sight of your kitchen and heading to your dresser. You should have been doing anything except staring right at the man who had settled himself against your countertop with a bowl and spoon in his hands.

You weren’t certain if you’d have preferred a complete stranger, maybe someone with a mallet ready to bash in your head. Something told you it would have been better that the mallet he had poised to bash in your heart with.

Your mouth dropped open and you forgot about the keys on the ground. Eyes scanning his figure, you begged to find any reason that this wasn’t him, but, if there was, you were too shocked to see it. First, came the slow, creeping sensation of confusion, then a dismal sadness washed through your veins, followed within the second by a tidal wave of anger.

In a single movement, you’d scooped up your keys, singled the sharpest one out, and lunged for Wilford.

The fucker was lucky he had those teleporting, magic, screw-the-laws-of-physics powers that let him appear behind you before you cut through his arm. That didn’t stop you from whirling around and trying to get at his shoulder, though, but you missed again. And again. And again.

“Stop moving!” you yelled, skidding into the fridge. It was a poorly choreographed dance that involved the two of you going around in circles, neither graceful nor calculated. The most math Wilford was doing was making sure he didn’t end up on your stove-top, and you were barely thinking, regardless of how many times the counter drove itself into your stomach.

His response of a stern, “No!” went ignored while you flung yourself towards him for a sixth time. You were considering just chucking the keychain at him and hoping you struck gold, but luck always seemed to be on his side – if not for his evading of your attacks, then for the fact that his bowl hadn’t spiled whatever was inside it. Although, just as you cursed him for it and a bunch of other irrelevant things, he placed it near the sink and watched you fumble with the keys. Your hands were sweaty against the frigidness of the apartment, the exercise was wearing you out quickly, but you didn’t let up. He’d always liked that about you, but he was getting tired, more of the repetitiveness of the situation than the exertion.

So, what else could he do but twist your arm behind your back, hold your other hand down onto the countertop, and ignore the suggestive position it put you both in to disarm you? You didn’t stop struggling, to which he tutted and wrenched your shoulder back further. Nothing to hurt you, too much, he just needed you to calm down. If there was one thing he’d learned in your past encounters, it was that you didn’t react well to simply being verbally ordered around.

“Now, why are you so angry?” Wilford asked.

For a second, you stilled. He couldn’t be serious, but, then again, when was he ever? This was the norm for him. Both the prudent ignorance and the method of disarmament. After jostling for moment more, you let out a breath that gave you more wiggle room against the countertop.

“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years.”

Wilford apparently deemed you pacified enough to let you go, and you fell forward slightly. God, your arms hurt. You turned to face him as you rolled the shoulder that he had pulled behind you. Military man. You hated when he actually used what he was taught.

“I didn’t fake my death,” he scoffed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you ate all my cereal and abandoned me for three years. That better?”

“I didn’t abandon you.”

You finally met his eyes. Six feet between you, far out of arm’s reach, you hated that they didn’t betray any lies. More often than not, his emotions were masked by a haze of insanity, but the genuineness was crystal clear, like the spark of lighting across a night sky. It was the kind of purity that meant he fully believed he hadn’t abandoned you, but that just made it worse.

You forced yourself to look away.

“You still ate all my cereal.”

“For that, I am sorry.”

You believed him there, and you hated that you did. But that was the same Wilford who left all those nights ago, wasn’t it? No reason to anything, not leaving, not coming back, not a single thing.

Huffing, you gave up. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and you now had one more chore to do before you could settle down for the night. “What do you want?” you asked as you dumped the remainder of the cereal from Wil’s bowl.

“Can’t a man check in on an old friend out of the kindness of his heart?”

You levelled him with a blank stare. His grin cracked for just a second, but it was enough for you to spot, not that you changed your expression any.

“I- well, I thought we could catch up. What have you been up to for the last… what did you say, three years?”

You took a moment to try and figure him out again. Even if it would get you nowhere in the long run, you weren’t going to entertain him if he was there out of boredom. The little voice in the back of your mind reminded you that you didn’t have to play along with him, it reminded you that you had a job and a home and a life outside of whatever Wilford was swept up in. You didn’t have to jingle around the room like a court jester playing it up for laughs.

But you still sighed, ran a hand down your face, and vaguely gestured to the kitchen counter. “Go on, then.”

Wilford waltzed over to one of the stools as though that was just what he expected you to say, and, ashamed as you were, it likely was; it was some kind of routine you used to have, albeit without the giant gap in between. When you got home from working the bar, he would be there at the stove, cooking whatever it was caught his fancy in the books lately. You’d talk about your day and ask him about his, pouring both of you a drink. You couldn’t drink on the job, but your shift ended the minute you stepped through the apartment door.

Then, of course, after solid months of strange domesticity, Wilford up and vanished in the blink of an eye. Magic.

And, what, he appeared in just the same manner, and you fell into the habit, just like that? God, you really were weak.

“So, how’s the family?” was Wilford’s first question. You didn’t answer until you got the bottles out of the fridge and laid them on the countertop in front of him.

“Fine. Youngest brother graduated; parents adopted another dog.”

You turned away from grabbing the glasses only to see your guest wedging the top off the bottle of gin with his teeth. The cork pressed to the side of his mouth a clear danger, you swiped it from him, tossed it to your other hand and grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer in one swift motion.

“You’ll crack a tooth,” you muttered, knowing damn-well he wouldn’t heed your warning as you watched him shrug and remove the cap of the vermouth as well.

You didn’t bother to be surprised when the martini glass you’d seen on a shelf disappeared and reappeared in Wilford’s hand. That little voice, whispering again, reminded you that the magic trick was old hat to you now. You didn’t have to be shocked at the casual manipulation of time and space.

“I didn’t think Danny-boy was still in schooling. What’s he going to be, eh?”

Ignoring the sudden pressure in your chest, you replied, “A pilot.”

“Oh, a ladies’ man, then!” His laugh was more suited to a world war general than the pink-moustached maniac sipping straight from the vermouth in front of you. “I wish him the best of luck.” To which he raised the bottle, and, with a final wink, chugged the thing until half of it remained.

You almost didn’t want to risk finishing the martini you were making for him. You were well aware of how high Wilford’s alcohol tolerance was, but that didn’t make it any healthier. Still, when you had taken back the vermouth and poured it into the glass, you slid it over to him, warily eyeing the rest of the bottles to see if they’d been opened in the meantime. The sight of them all the same as before didn’t bring you much comfort regardless.

“And how’s the bar doing?”

You nodded slightly, your brow still furrowed and avoiding looking directly at him. “It’s doing well. We got a new bartender, she’s… she’s good.”

“Maybe you’ll finally take some time off, then,” he thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers, “there’s a new roller rink opening up on Alto Street. We could go there on your next day off!”

That pressure tightened into a vice grip. “We?”

“Yes, we. I wouldn’t recommend it if I didn’t think it’s good.”

“But you want to go together.”

“Is that a problem?”

Avoiding looking at him didn’t help, but making eye contact wasn’t any good, either. You only got an expression of confusion. Nothing betrayed an ulterior motive. You squinted but found only that. Surprise, maybe. You tilted your head one way and then the other, as though an angle would let you see something you couldn’t before. It was all the same.

“What are you doing, Wilford?”

Only more surprise. He laid down the martini glass, a mere sliver of alcohol left in the bottom, before placing his head in his hand. “What do you mean?”

“What is this? What- what do you want?”

A tut broke the tension for a second until it rose again tenfold.

“You’ve already asked that one.”

“Yeah, and we’ve caught up. You can leave now.”

“Well, you haven’t asked me what I’ve been up to.”

“Oh, yeah? What have you been up to, then?”

Wilford opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again with a hum. Go figure, he couldn’t tell you. Whether it was because he was bound by some contract, or couldn’t remember, or just plain hadn’t done a thing, you didn’t know, and you never had.

“Look, it was nice catching up with you, but I have to work in the morning—”

“Hold on, hold on!” Your moving away from the counter was blocked by Wilford rushing to stand and securing his hands on your shoulders. He held you in place, a new emotion appearing on his face. Desperation. The smallest amount, but it was there, and it had you changing your mind about shoving him away.

“How do I make it up to you?”

“I don’t think you can.”

You weren’t about to beat around the bush with this, even if it made you the bad guy – the kicked puppy look certainly made you think you were, but you stayed your course; you couldn’t give in so easily.

“I just… how do I know you aren’t going to disappear again?”

“I won’t!”

“How do I know, though? You don’t have the best track record.”

When he moved his hands from your shoulders, you thought he was going to leave, walk straight out the door into the night. It took only a second longer for you to realise he was grabbing your own hands. “This time I promise I’m telling the truth.”

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn him and damn yourself and damn it all. You were weak, of course, but you were weak for the man in front of you with the stars in his eyes and sugar on his lips. And if that man was asking for a second chance – for a third time – who were you to deny him?

“Fine. Okay. Sure,” you spoke slowly, coming to grips with everything that had happened in the last half an hour.

You felt Wilford’s grip tighten at your hands and then release, and that was all that you expected, but you were talking about the time-travelling maniac in front of you. His arms were wrapped around you before you knew it, warmth and his moustache tapping at your skin. You supposed this was some kind of thanks, which you still appreciated. Gently, you lifted your hands to pat his back, causing him to squeeze slightly more, until he pulled away a few seconds later.

“Alright,” you mumbled, barely getting the word out in time for a yawn to overtake you, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Goodnight! Sleep well.”

You returned the pleasantry with obvious tiredness in both your tone and your body. Dragging your feet, you made your way to your room while Wilford cleared up, the clinking of glasses and bottles only making you slightly worried about how much you’d have left come morning. It wasn’t enough to stop you from conking out the very instance that you touched your comforter, ready and poised to forget the last half hour’s shenanigans.

You woke up in the morning. Not surprising. It happened a lot. What didn’t happen a lot, though, was the smell of pancakes stirring you from your sleep instead of the blinding sun through your windows. You cracked your eyes open, only to see complete darkness. Immediately, you jumped from your bed and scrambled to stand up straight. Nothing. You couldn’t see anything. A creeping sense of dread curled in your stomach, wrapped around you heart, and pulled. Where was Wilford? Did he do something, was he okay, why did it still smell like pancakes—

You hand made contact with something covering your eyes. Oh. Pulling it off, you were slowly greeted with the light of the day, as you expected, and an unfamiliar piece of fabric in your palm. It was silky when you ran your thumb over it, something you didn’t think you’d ever touched, let alone owned.

You left the sleeping mask on your chaotic mess of sheets. Overwhelmed by the haze of adrenaline and sleep, you stumbled to get ready – which, given that you still had to figure out that smell, consisted of swapping out the uniform that you’d passed out in for a tank top and shorts. You weren’t fully awake when you got to the door, but you had nothing else to do but get to the kitchen and hope it was nothing you’d have to call emergency services about.

All three of your panic-questions were answered when you stopped at the archway between the mini hallway and the kitchen. The scene of Wilford at the stove, his back to you but clearly flipping something in a pan, quickly greeted you. Sizzling filled the air and disguised your footfalls on the wooden floorboards. They were nearly silent anyway, and yet you were caught as you got close to the countertop’s stools.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Wilford sang, turning to wink at you so that you could see the ‘kiss-the-cook’ apron he now sported. Something panged in your chest, like a string cut loose; you’d bought that for him years ago, back when he was cooking dinner for the two of you. The face of the cashier stuck in your mind, somewhere between amused and sickened, but you didn’t care. The only time he hadn’t worn it when cooking was after you’d wrestled it away from him to wash. And then, obviously, after he disappeared, it was stashed in the back of the drawer, piled onto by old cloths and semi-broken utensils. You wondered how he found it again.

“Did you put a sleeping mask on me?” You collapsed onto a seat and rested your arms on the laminate surface.

“I did, yes.” He went back to peeling the sides of a pancake off the edge and said nothing else on the matter.

“…why?”

Wilford flipped the pancake once, twice, a third time, then pressed it down in a ritual you had seen many times before. The crack of batter shocked the air around it. “Given how tired you were last night – too tired to change out of your clothes, at least – I didn’t want the sun to wake you up too early.”

“And the curtains weren’t enough?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” he tutted, “I’ve seen how much gets through those flimsy things. It’s a wonder how the stars themselves don’t keep you awake.”

He wasn’t wrong. It happened often that you would wake up in the middle of the night, drowsy and blinking, only to realise that it was ten hours earlier than when you needed to be out of bed by. It happened now, and it happened three years ago. You just never put in the effort to fix it.

So, you just sighed, giving up the debate as fast as you’d started it, and dragged your hands down your face. According to the clock on the wall opposite you, there was still six more hours until the bar opened – you didn’t like encouraging day-drinking and four o’clock was the lowest you would go – and, frankly, you didn’t know how to spend them. A routine of stupid conspiracy theories and paperwork was offset with Wilford’s presence, leaving you with the shambles of a normal morning.

You blinked back to life when he set out two plates of pancakes on the countertop, one of them in front of you and the other just to your right at the next stool over. As he rounded the jutted-out edge, he brushed the small of your back with his hand, still warm from being near the stove. You couldn’t help but tense up, entirely focused on that point of contact like you’d been called to attention by a drill sergeant.

Wilford dropped into the seat and handed you a pair of cutlery. You didn’t notice the toppings spread along the edge until you blinked some more times to rid the blur of your vision. Half of them had been pushed to the very back of the cupboard while the other half you weren’t certain you had ever bought in the first place.

Something stopped you from reaching for any of them. Something stopped you from doing anything.

It was a shared feeling between the pit of your stomach and your throat. Like you wanted to scream and cry and laugh at the same time. Manic, you guessed was the best word for it, but even that felt wrong. Your heart thundered in your chest and raged against your ribcage, as though it were the only thing stopping it from telling you just what was wrong with you. Maybe this was just what happened what Wilford was around you, or maybe this was just what happened when he left. You didn’t think you were sure of anything anymore.

“Is this it?”

“What do you mean?”

The words struggled against the rush of blood in your veins. You weren’t angry. You understood that you should have been, but you weren’t, and you weren’t bitter, and you weren’t resentful. It was another feeling on the tip of your tongue. But you held onto that feeling because it was undeniably there. You would have bashed your head against the counter if you weren’t paralyzed with…

You were scared. That was it. You were downright terrified.

“Are you,” you swallowed thickly, “are you here now?”

“Honey, whatever are you talking about?” Wilford asked, facing you with that sugar-coated grin you’d always gotten so hung up over. “I’ve been here since last night.”

Just those words made you break into an internal panic. The only way that it shone through was in the frantic movements of your pupils, darting back and forth, searching desperately for the truth in his own. Meeker than he had ever heard you before, you asked, “Are you staying?”

And, just like that, he realized what you were asking, what you were going through. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all, and, as he secured his hands on your shoulders, he saw your soul shattered into pieces. He had left, and the memory of stepping out of that front door was seared into his mind. He couldn’t forget, not even under the cover of discos and murder-mysteries, the way that the click of the lock echoed down the hallway and the stairwell, chasing after him when he was out of the building and seeping into the cracks of the pavement. It was karmic justice that the thought of you prevented him from entering any bar from that day onward. He didn’t want to risk it, and, well, he’d already forgotten so much. The few sane memories that remained were ones he didn’t want to taint with similar experiences and get them muddled up in his mind.

Now that he was back, Wilford couldn’t imagine leaving again, not when you were staring at him, panicked and desperate for a response.

Slowly, gently, he brought you closer until your chest was pressed against his. The embrace was tight but comfortable. Supportive. A promise he couldn’t yet put into words. He shushed you as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, your own arms tugging him even closer than that, as if you expected him to disappear at any moment – not that it was unjustified. His grip on your shoulder blades tensed alongside yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. On your part, you were too preoccupied with holding back the floods of tears that threatened to spill over at any second. A few had already escaped and dampened his dress shirt. On Wilford’s, he understood already.

The pair of you sat there for five minutes more. It felt like longer, but the clock was barely passing half ten. The most concrete thought that dragged through your head was that the hug was nice. You hadn’t been held like that since the last time Wilford was there. Sure, you’d been close to other people, but the complete relaxation of your body was a sensation you could see yourself chasing like an addict’s high.

It was practically painful to pull away, though you kept your hands secured around his waist.

“Shit,” you laughed quietly, voice clogged with tears, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”

“Pish posh! I think we both needed that, and I’m more than welcome for another in the future. For now,” he rose from his seat and gathered your plates, “I’m going to make some more pancakes.”

As Wilford passed behind you, he leaned around and pecked your cheek with his lips. It must have been an unconscious decision because his eyebrows raised, and he sounded apologetic as he spoke.

“Was that too much?”

Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated. You had gone from trying to stab his with your keys to crying in his embrace in less than a day, you imagined you could handle a little kiss. And, as it happened, a larger one, too.

Wilford watched as you got up from your own stool and took a step closer to him. He was almost worried you would shove him out of the door, but you did something different. Very different.

In one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. For a second, he was focused on keeping the plates steady in his hands, before he felt the oh-so-familiar warmth of your lips on his, and, had he forgotten, this was a pleasant reminder. He sighed into your mouth as his shoulders fell from their tensed position and he tilted his head for a better angle. A lopsided grin spread over his lips, only somewhat messing up the kiss, but you continued.

You lifted a hand up to cup his jawline, smoothing a thumb over the texture of his skin; the other you used to card through his tousled hair. Your reward? A light groan so quiet that you nearly missed it. Luckily, you didn’t, even as he tried to twist it into a hum. He’d missed this, and so had you. And besides, who were you to ignore the order on his apron?

Eventually, you had to separate. Time-travelers and bartenders both had to breath, after all.

“Oh, honey,” Wilford muttered, slowly but not subtly moving closer again.

You accepted another kiss, and then another when you parted, and then another after that. Each of them was slow and sweet, only half like him in that regard.

“Still making those pancakes, are you?” you managed to get out in the interim.

His chuckle was just as carefree as his other sounds, but he did step back to put the plates by the sink. You moved to start cleaning them as he prepared the next pancakes. The splash of water against the sizzle of batter warmed your chest, and the glimpse of Wilford standing next to you had you grinning ear to ear.

This was good. Making breakfast in a tiny apartment, not yet dressed for the day but content to stay like this for the rest of it – you were happy with this life.

You were certain of it.

[It's weird that this blog has been open for over a year and yet this is the first Wilford one-shot I've done. Side note: this was inspired by @valentivy-makes so you should go and check out their amazing art of Wilford, because, um, you should. Thanks for reading <3]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #writing #markiplier egos #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #one shots #x reader #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #markiplier wilford #wkm wilford #wilford warfstache #Wilford x reader #bartender reader #angst/comfort #somewhat similar to the Dark one I did

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moonshynecybin · 4 months

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i’m sorry the doctor who au is making me kick my feet making me giggle…

marc is like 20 listless after his persistent diplopia never made it to motogp… vale shows up when he’s working that shitty job you work when you’re 20 and saves him from an alien threat and! proves himself a. interesting b. useful (canonically smart and adaptable) and c. stone cold addicted to dangerous situations. ideal doctor who companion.

so vale whisks him away to travel through time and see the starsssss… it becomes very emotionally intense SO quickly. vale’s upbeat charismatic exterior shielding his DEEP trauma. hey just like real life uuhhhhhhh anyways. marc plucky intense goofy WAY reckless in a way that mildly freaks vale out. he tries to send marc away like at the end of s1 and marc STARES INTO THE HEART OF THE TARDIS and becomes briefly divine just to get back to him. insane times.

so. they follow the doctor/rose timeline pretty much the same until the end of season two where marc is like. i am going to stay with you the rest of my life and vale who is so lonely and immortal and knows marc is human and going to die before him… like literally these gifs you can spend the rest of your life with me… but i cant spend the rest of mine with you….

but he loves him so much so they never take that extra step of acknowledging the relationship even though they are forreal basically married. marc like no we aren’t together we just hold hands when we walk everywhere and live together and flirt literally constantly. they are fucking they do not talk about it. and the end of s2 happens and marc gets TRAPPED in a different universe and vale burns up a SUN just to see marc one last time and say goodbye… marc sobbing on that beach like am i ever going to see you again… I LOVE YOU. and vale is about to say it back but the connection cuts outttttttt what if i explode.

and then marc of course. devotes his life to getting back to vale and blows a hole in another dimension to get back to him. as you do.

(side note. when vale regenerates he just goes from bald to sideburns instantly. marc brings it up vale’s like time lords do this. it’s weird you don’t.) (he’s lying he just didn’t want to change his face bc marc likes it)

#WAIT. just realized his nickname is literally the doctor. post cancelled.#callie speaks #motogp #play with me. play with me in my beautiful cringe space.#so genuinely. posts for an audience of ME.#rosquez

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southparktegreity · 1 year

Text

♡ a day away

[ leopold 'butters' stotch x reader ]

synopsis : you take your boyfriend butters down to a beach, after a much needed break from life.

gender : neutral cws : none word count : 1,037 requested : nope relationship : romantic , established

NOTICE : as always, these characters are aged up to be in college - 19/20+!

Peaceful.

You and Butters never really got alone time together. Someone always needed help, or wanted your attention, or had wanted to spark a little chaos in your and his lives. You two both desperately needed to get out of South Park, even if it was only for a day. So you did. You packed up your stuff, just for a day and headed down to 'Fairplay Beach'. It was pretty close to South Park, about an hour drive down there. You and Butters decided to pack up and leave early in the day. He had told his parents he was going out to study for the day, and you had told yours the same.

You carried most of the bags and snacks the two of you would need for the trip, as well as towels and your own swimsuit. Meanwhile, Butters kept his sandcastle supplies in his bag, and his own swimsuit - making sure to keep his stuff light as to not have his parents get too suspicious.

You headed over to Butter's house, picking him up just before his parents could question why you were. Normally Butters would want to drive you, but he wouldn't have been able to get the car so early in the morning. Besides, he always liked watching you drive, your eyebrows furrowed at the car in front of you. You always made sure to focus as best as you could while you were driving. It was something Butters loved. He watched as your hair billowing through the wind, as the car was rolling. Your hands gently holding the steering wheel as you looked out your left window while you were stopped at a red light. He watched your every move, intent on making this day last as long as it could, enjoying each others presence for as long as possible, playing songs in the car or listening to the noises around you both.

The closer you two got to the beach, the more excited you both were. You and Butters had always talked about a day like this, but it was a different feeling when those hopes became a reality. Your hearts were beating in excitement as you both could do nothing but look forward to your time together, even if it had started now.

Once you two stopped together, looking for a bathroom to change into your swimsuits. Upon finding them, you both quickly changed but not before exchanging compliments towards each other. Butters wore a blue swim trunks and his blue hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned and blowing gently in the wind.

As you two made your way over to the beach, the scent of cool water and warm air engulfed your noses. The beach was almost entirely empty, just you and your boyfriend together, almost as though this moment was created just for the two of you to share. You took your shoes off before you walked over on the sand, feeling the course dirt mixed with sand in between your toes. While Butters had already ran over into the sandy area, his flipflops taken off as he looked around for an area to put your stuff, before waiting for you to finish taking your shoes off.

Finally stepping onto the warm grainy sand, and making your way down to the spot that Butters had picked out for you both, you set your things down, but only after getting out a towel to cover your stuff with. Even though you knew it would all be covered with sand by the end of your daytrip. Butters had set his things down alongside yours, getting out his sandcastle making supplies.

You two exchanged tips on the best ways to make sandcastles, before racing each other in who can make this biggest sand castle in under an hour. Your hands and body were covered in sand, as you used almost every resource you could around you to add to your castle. The fine sand sticking to you, but you didn't mind - so long as you were able to make a larger castle than your boyfriend.

Together you took a small snack break in between, sharing each others company and silence while eating. Cracking a few jokes in there while looking at your hard work, though you couldn't stop what would happen next. The ocean decided it was time for your castles to go, before either of you could even do or say anything, the ocean took them away. The two of you looked at each other and laughed, as the ocean swept away both of your hard work. Not that either of you minded. Your hands were almost magnetic, with the way they glued together almost immediately.

As the sun started to set, and the day was starting to conclude, you scooted closer to Butters, causing him to put a nervous arm around you while you gently put your head against his shoulder. His warmth was enough with the cooler air, as the sun was beginning to set. Butters blonde hair shined against the sun, looking almost angelic as ever as the light reflected off of him and onto the water. His nose taking a soft deep breath in, only heard between you and him.

"I love you." His voice was just barely above a whisper, for you and him to hear. He kept his arm close on you, his hand dangling with the wind, which you put a stop to by holding it with your free hand.

"I love you too." You whispered with him, taking your head off his shoulder and looking back at him, softly smiling. The ocean was climbing up the shore, crashing loudly against itself, as if the universe was telling it back to the both of you.

You two looked at each other with bright eyes, and sweet smiles, holding each others hands under the sunset as he gently brought his free hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it before brushing your locks out of the way. He looked at you, pupils enlarged, confirming what he said to you moments prior.

This moment was just for you two and the ocean to share, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop that this time.

#butters stotch x reader #leopold butters stotch x reader #butters x reader #south park x reader #south park butters x reader

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try-set-me-on-fire · 1 year

Note

HELLO for the prompts if u have time: fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF 💓💓💓

"57° isn't cold," Buck scoffs as Eddie shoves a flannel lined coat at him. "It's barely even chilly."

"Buck," Eddie throws him a look over his shoulder before going to the closet to find his own warm outer layer. "You're going to be complaining about 'wind chill' and 'dry cold' in about 20 minutes. Put on your jacket."

Buck pouts a little at the audible quotation marks, but starts putting his arms through the sleeves. "I'm from Pennsylvania, I grew up in the snow, I shouldn't be able to get cold at a west coast beach."

"It snowed in El Paso, too, and you're not catching me out there in a t-shirt." Eddie reemerges from the closet, zipping on a thick hoodie. "And you haven't lived in Pennsylvania since you were like 20."

"Still. Fees undignified."

Eddie just hums at him, and steps close to shoo away Buck's hands at the buttons. Standing in front of each other like this is so familiar a position that Eddie does up his jacket like a turnout, fastening the buttons quick and efficient, smoothing over the placket, tugging on the sleeves to assure fit, patting down where a harness would be. Buck watches him do it with a little bit of wonder, so fond it feels like a physical weight settling into his bones.

"Am I good to go, firefighter Diaz?" He says it quietly, and he's sure the smile on his face is softer than butter, but it is still a tease and Eddie still blushes faintly.

"Oh." Eddie looks down at the civilian jacket, sort of surprised. "Sorry, I didn't, uh…"

Buck shakes his head and kisses his cheek, right on the apple where the pink has pooled. He'd tell him all the ways that Eddie takes care of him and how tenderly grateful he is for it, but then they'd be here all day, and he's pretty sure the man is well aware from the way his eyes are lit up sweetly when Buck pulls back from the kiss. "All bundled up and secure. Ready to head out?"

"Ready." Eddie takes his hand and they go towards the door.

Soft Fic Prompts

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fox #911 abc #?? I don’t know what to tag it now lol #my writing

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logical-grave · 1 year

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𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕥 ℂ𝕙. 𝟙

|| Pairing || - Dilf!Andy Barber x Reader

|| Warnings || - None so far hehe. Actually, andy barber is a warning himself. Very fluffy and slow burn-ish? Reader is 20 and Andy is early fifties 😀 so yea, but of an age difference. This is in first person too.

|| Summary || - It’s the summer before junior year of college and your neighbor can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

|| A/N || - IM BAAAACCCKK AAAHHH ahem sorry. I literally started writing in this acc and then dipped and now I'm getting back Into it hehe, I cant help myself. But yayyty this is the first chapter of my first series and I'm so excited omg omg

|| Word Count || - 2.8k

There was a light breeze that turned the tip of my nose cold, enough to tickle the hair on my face that removed me from an enticing trance. Six, seven months, maybe since the new family moved in known as the barbers. They had a past, I'm sure of it but who the hell am I to bring it to the present? I mean, for whatever reason they moved here, it was to escape and though marathon wasn't paradise on earth, it cut close.

The for sale sign on their clean-cut lawn lasted as long as a blink, the listing to our left being sold as soon as it was on the market and that sparked many eyes to center on it. But that lasted a week and only that before the barbers deemed this villa to be their retreat in the cruel world that surrounded them. No one knew who they were or what happened that caused them to move from the chilly climate of Boston to the humid one of the Florida keys. But they're here and they've piqued my interest.

“Honey, are you dressed?” it was a voice, one aged yet high pitched, belonging to my stepmother Rose. She was nice, she liked my father enough to stick around when he had arrogant outbursts but those weren't introduced to her until he was engaged to her. She was tall, slim, and at the age where all her veins were prominent against her skin but she pulled you in with stories of where she seemed to live another life. It made me wonder how she ended up here, with my father, and taking all his shit when those stories she told could live on.

Maybe that's where I came in. to pass her stories onto me and do my best to make my own. “You're 20, you have so much ahead of you.” Those were her words, ones she repeated to me many times as if she wished to tell herself that at my age. Either way, it was too late to feel bad for her but she was right. I'm only 20 and I, like her, would like to tell stories to young women that reflect me at this age.

“Coming,” I called through the door and backed away from my bedroom window, shutting it after myself. There was already an ache on my shoulder from the weight of the bag I prepared for a day on the sandbar, an extra bathing suit, an extra set of clothing, sunscreen, a hat, and a book to indulge me later on. I twisted the handle that opened to the narrow hallway of the beach house my father bought in 2000 and he's been accustomed to renting out to families that escaped the north and decided my summer before junior year of college was a good time to put it to use.

Rose stood in the kitchen, hunched over sandwiches she made to keep our stomachs from rumbling in the dead center of the sea. She also packed salt and vinegar chips, my favorite which she made a point to always have on hand when I craved a snack. Not a word left my mouth as I stepped past her to the patio, watching as my father used the freshwater hose to clean the inside of the boat. “Hey, sweetheart, hand me the cooler would you?” My father asked, his arms outstretched and his eyes switched from my own to the cooler on my left. A nod from my head prompted me to grab the handles on either side of the blue cooler, lifting it and straining slightly as I heard the movement of ice inside of it. “Jeez,” I said, lifting it above my hips in an attempt to hand it to him easier and he removed it from my grasp without much effort. A huff left my lips as I trained my gaze over the docks that lined all the beach houses, a weird way to set up a neighborhood if you didn’t own a boat.

“Where’s rose?” My father asked and I removed my bag from my shoulder, sighing in relief at the loss of weight off my shoulder as he placed it in the storage compartment at the front of the boat. “She’s inside getting the food. I’ll start locking up.” I spoke, unsure if what I said processed through his head since he was the type to act as if he was at times and I wasn't certain if that included now or not. My hand reached for the keys that hung above the outdoor freezer, usually used to store bait and fish. He flaked and gutted which made the keys in my hand smell. It also wasn't the best idea to have the keys in such an open space but surprisingly crime was low here and the worry about intruders was not a common one. “Don't lock up, yet. We’re still waiting for the barbers.”

My body tensed at the name, the step I was about to take to the side entrance contracted my muscles and a wave of numbness pushed through me. I tightened my grip on the keys in my hand, surely making a mark in a jagged manner due to the shape. “The barbers, father?” I cringed at myself for a moment, knowing I reserved the endearment for when I was conflicted and looked to him for some false sense of security but what does he know?

“Yeah, they’re joining us but they should be here already.” He looked to his right, their house tall and prominent in his view but the windows or doors showed signs of life. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, a sound I didn’t want to be accustomed to yet the familiarity of it started to push that wave of numbness again. Torn in two, my mind attempted to look for the decision of if I should go inside and dread meeting them until Rose was with me or turn on my heel and give them a blinding grin.

I don’t know why I was scared to meet them, maybe the small anxiety of having to make conversation or the itching curiosity of why they were even here needing to be answered but a conclusion was made for me. “Sweetheart, come say hi.” my father's deafening voice rang behind me and I gulped the lump in my throat that formed without my notice. I dangled the keys in my hand, allowing them to jangle and I pulled back my shoulders to straighten my posture. My mind made quick laps to gather whatever information I already knew about them and all I could sum up was Mr. Barber is a defense attorney, Mrs.barber was a teacher, and their son was six years my junior. Great, prepubescent, and raging hormones.

I turned around, a grin on my face as I looked over the new faces and almost made a sharp intake at first glance. one thing is for certain, striking looks ran through the family. I picked up my feet, stalking towards them with hesitant steps and a vague idea of how to even approach them. “This is my daughter.” my father introduced my presence, the weight of all their eyes on me as I held my hand out towards Jacob who stood the closest to me, and shook his hand. I held back a grimace, feeling the clamminess of his palm and comparing the difference between his and his mother's that felt like a plush felt.

I shook Mr. Barber's hand, the contrast between ours; his calloused and rough, mine delicate and chaste. “Nice to meet you, Darling.” He smiled, his blue eyes piercing into my own as his large hand enveloped mine, a charm from the small action emitting from him. There was a palpitation in my chest at the pet name he gave me in such a short amount of time of knowing him, telling me he was an affectionate man, one that didn’t have many boundaries. “Nice to meet you as well.”

The loud shut of the side door caught my attention, Rose exited the house and struggled a bit to balance a platter and a large bag. Feeling a slight of pity, I walked up to the patio and grabbed the bag, the familiar heavyweight back on my shoulder making me pout. We neared the dock once more and Rose introduced herself to the barbers as we all piled into the boat. “Thank you,” I muttered to Mr. Barber as he held my hand to assist in my descent into the shallow boat, taking my seat at the front to pull in the ropes that hooked us from drifting away.

Jacob made himself comfortable next to me and I smiled warmly at him. “So, what school do you go to?” he yelled over the growling engines that cut through the water and I shook my head. “I don't go to school until I reach the fall.” I shrugged with my sentence and he nodded, vaguely keeping his interest in me. I held back an eye roll and looked over my shoulder toward the back of the boat. Mr. Barber leaned into Mrs. Barber's ear, a joke he made causing her to laugh and hide in the crook of his neck.

His eyes met mine, only for a moment at least, as he tilted his head. I blinked before turning around and facing the front of the boat once more. Our destination was already in sight because there were a few other boats anchored in comfortable positions, drifting slowly from the waves we made in tow. The loud growl of the boat engines began to stutter to a stop, finally being able to speak to one another without yelling at the top of our lungs.

“Think you can toss the anchor?” I hear my father call over his shoulder to Mr. Barber, watching as he chuckled dryly at him. “You insult me.” Mr. Barber stood, slipping past me on his way to the tip of the boat, opening the compartment where the anchor is stored, and held it just over his shoulder. My eyes trailed the hand he had holding the anchor, moving down towards his bicep which bulged due to the weight, the veins in his forearm presenting themselves just under his skin. Subconsciously, I crossed my legs and turned away as I heard the splash of the anchor hitting the water.

Mr. Barber opened the storage compartment, reaching for the red-striped bag that Laurie had brought with her. “Here, honey.” He smiled at her as she now stood beside me, Jacob and I standing together as I grabbed my bag. Making my way towards the back of the boat, I removed my ragged shirt that has seen better days, and my shorts that were now tighter than I’d like after the half rack of ribs I consumed last night. I stuffed my clothes into my bag, placing it inside the bait well before hanging my legs over the side of the boat and jumping in.

The water was perfectly warm due to the piercing sun shining over it. I sunk into the salt water just under my chin before turning onto my back, enjoying the laxity of floating above the waves. “Beautiful day, huh?” Mr. Barber's voice interrupted my serenity and I stood on my feet, blocking the sun out of my eyes to obtain a better look at him. “Mhmm.” I nodded, looking at the ripples of his torso, the structure of his muscles is something he’s surely worked for and still maintained at his age.

“How old are you?” He asked and I looked at him curiously. “Turned 20 a couple of months ago,” I answered, my fingers each dipping into the ocean that surrounded me, and watched as the small droplets fell from the tips. “Fun age. Getting drunk, knocking out on the couch of your friend's dorm. The good old days.” He smiled, reminiscing his younger years as he ran his hands through his hair. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t drink.” I commented, ready to swim back onto the boat for some light reading.

“I get it. You’re a good girl.”

I looked at him and his eyes were dark, the blue of his eyes now a thin ring around his pupils. A logical reaction to his words has yet to cross my mind as I stared at him blankly. “Sweetie, come here!” Laurie called for him and I watched as he took two steps back before turning and walking back toward the boat.

Ignoring what he said, I continued to drift yet his words seemed to tattoo themselves onto the side of my brain.

—-~—-

I pulled the back of the sundress down, the length not exactly keeping me modest. It was navy with bundles of pink and white flowers printed onto it, the build of the dress wrapping my waist in a flattering manner. After the sandbar the day prior, the barbers kindly invited us to dinner, an outing on their dime. For a scarce small town, it still had its fair share of restaurants that had forks on the left and knives on the right and to place napkins on your lap.

“It’s under the name Barber, a reservation for six at 8:30.” Mr. Barber greeted the host with a smile and he scrolled through the large tablet before him as he nodded his head, confirming the reservation. “Right this way, please.” The host piled 6 menus in his arms, leading us through the restaurant. The ambiance was nice, dim but just enough light to maintain the aesthetic they’re going for. The white cloth of the tables was soft and crisp as if they just arrived from the dryer and we all took our seats.

I took notice to my left, watching as Mr. Barber claimed the seat there and rose to my right, all of us looking around the room in awe as we took in the others who dined as well. “What a nice place.” My father commented as he straightened his button-up. I nodded along, placing the aforementioned napkin in my lap, and took a sip of the water the waiter came and served us. “It’s gorgeous here, Andy. We can’t thank you enough.” Rose smiled, looking past me at Mr. Barber and I followed her eyes. For a moment, I saw his eyes flicker from my thighs to Rose, clearing his throat as he smiled at her. “Truly, it’s my pleasure.”

“So how’s it been at the office with George? I imagine he simply couldn’t sit still and do his homework.” Rose jokes, placing her hand on my father's arm. I let out a small breath, realizing now that the night would mostly be filled with questions made for the adults, telling me that I am now sided with the likes of Jacob. I looked over at him, seeing his face slightly illuminated, most likely by a gaming device just under the table.

“Office talk is the last thing I want to speak about at the table, honey. Did we tell you? Italy is absolutely beautiful this time of year…” My father continued and I drowned him out as he began to recall our first outing to Europe back in 2017 yet I couldn’t be bothered to listen to him rave about the beer and women there once more.

Then, a small gasp left my lips. The feeling of a large warm hand grazing the side of my left leg caught me off guard, almost making me tip the glass of water in my hand. My eyes turned to Mr. Barber who gave me a small smirk, his hand tucked behind my knee as his fingers smoothed over my skin. I swallowed the lump in my throat, the room surrounding me suddenly feeling smaller and hotter.

“Have you considered studying abroad, sweetheart?” Laurie said, looking over at me. I stared blankly at her for a moment before clearing my throat as I conjured up an answer. “Possibly, but for now I like where I’m at.” I gave her a weak smile as his hand trailed further up the side of my thigh, the tips of his fingers playing with the seam of my dress which I cursed at the short length. My hand stopped his own before he could progress, digging my fingers into his skin as a motion to stop but it seemed to urge him more. “That’s a nice dress, darling. Compliments you well. Doesn’t it?” Mr. Barber smiled kindly as if he secretly wasn’t making a move on his office partner's daughter under the dinner table. “Yes, you look gorgeous.” Laurie agreed and I couldn’t help the blush that crept onto my cheeks, more likely due to the hand that was causing my skin to feel as if it was on fire.

“Thank you.” I uncross my legs, dropping them both on the seat under me and tucking my napkin under the side of my thigh, sneaking small glances at Mr. Barber as a waiter introduced himself to take our orders

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #Andy barber smut #Andy barber angst #andy barber x female reader #dilf!andy barber x reader #dilf!andy barber #andy barber x 20yr! reader #Chris Evans characters

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allmoshnobrain · 6 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 20 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2235 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

Of course, I knew Dave's reaction to seeing the album wouldn't be great, but somehow, I always ended up trying to convince myself that he would handle it more calmly. I should have known that Dave Mustaine's anger and resentment would be anything but calm.

✦ summary: After coming back to Los Angeles, Nore has to deal with Dave's reaction when he gets to know about Metallica's new album.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angry sex, (light) spanking, jealousy, angst

✦ a/n: I'm back! First of all, I would just like to say I'm really sorry it took me this long to post a new part. My life's been crazy busy and I was a bit burned out from writing, so I just had to take a break for a bit. But I took a few weeks to rest and now I'm ready to keep writing the story :) I hope you guys like this new chapter! The dynamics in Dave and Nore's relationship are starting to get a little more complicated, and we'll see how this plays out soon. Feedback is welcome! ❤

I rolled back into Los Angeles the next morning. Having a motorcycle as a birthday gift from my parents sure had its perks, like getting around town without suffering the rickety old buses. The ride from San Francisco to LA was a trek, and it got me thinking about those not-so-distant days when Cliff would cruise from San Francisco to Long Beach just to hang out with me.

Man, I was already starting to miss him.

Los Angeles was its usual chaotic self, just like I'd left it the day before. But coming back after my San Francisco escapade was a whole different deal. I couldn't help but wonder if the concert and everything that went down afterward had stirred up a whole lot more in me than I was ready to admit.

Dave wasn’t in when I got to our apartment, so I dropped my bag and the presents on the couch and hit the shower to unwind after that exhausting trip. As I was getting dressed, I heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door, letting me know he had just arrived home .

It was kind of unusual for him not to swing by and say hi right away, but it didn't take me long to figure out why. After I got dressed, I headed into the living room and there he was, looking at the new addition to my vinyl collection with a frown.

"Dave...?" I said, nervously. I wasn't entirely sure how he'd react to the sight of the new Metallica record. I probably should've thought about it before leaving it lying on the couch, but I was so beat from the trip that it didn't even cross my mind that he might not be thrilled with my gift.

He looked up at me, and I could tell he was torn between anguish and something tougher that made me swallow hard.

"I had no clue they dropped the album," he commented, expressionless. Somehow, his effort to act like it wasn't a big deal just seemed to make it worse, the tension in the room growing like a bubble about to burst.

"It was a gift," I mumbled softly. He snorted, arching an eyebrow, and I felt my face turn beet red. My voice wavered, "I didn't know they had released it either; they told me just recently. It's just that..."

"Did you know they used my music in this crap?" he growled. I blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"Jump in the Fire? Metal Militia? Phantom Lord?" he snapped, shaking the vinyl's booklet in my direction, seeming on the verge of blowing a gasket. "I helped write all this shit. And they didn’t even credit me! I told them not to use my stuff. I fucking told them!"

I opened my mouth in surprise, my heart clenching with anguish and anger. That was just wrong. Dave had confided in me how he'd asked the guys not to use any of his songs or solos. I didn't know what was worse, them ignoring his wishes or not even bothering to inform us.

"Dave, I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought this," I murmured, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. He looked at me, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

"It's alright," he muttered, though his voice still carried a trace of annoyance. He wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling into the curve of my neck and giving me a tight hug. "It's okay. It's not your fault if they used you to get to me."

I furrowed my brow, my body tensing at his words. I pulled away slightly, locking eyes with him.

"Dave... I don't think that's what happened."

He arched an eyebrow at my words, and I pulled back slightly when I detected a flash of hurt in his eyes, though it quickly turned into a cold, almost icy expression. It was evident that he was hurt, but it wasn't just that; having his songs used without his permission had pushed him over the edge. He was seething with anger.

"You're being too naive," he said in a low, chilling voice I hadn't heard from him before. I swallowed hard, feeling my heart race uncomfortably in my chest.

"Dave, it's Cliff. He wouldn't do that..."

"They used my fucking songs!" he snarled, his voice growing louder. I took a step back, and he exhaled deeply, now visibly angry. "You're fooling yourself. Do you think they're nice guys? They didn't care about me, so why would they care about you now?"

"It's not like that..."

"Of course, it's like that," he laughed, a bitter and painful laugh that made me flinch. "You don't realize, do you? They don't think I'm good enough, but you are! I bet Cliff would be thrilled if we broke up now. Have you ever thought about that?"

“But I don’t want to break up with you,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. This was going much, much worse than I had expected. Of course, I knew Dave's reaction to seeing the album wouldn't be great, but somehow, I always ended up trying to convince myself that he would handle it more calmly.

I should have known that Dave Mustaine's anger and resentment would be anything but calm.

"This isn't about what you want, it's about what you do! Why did you have to bring this here?" he shouted. His voice held more distress than anger, and it pained me. Beyond the pain of our argument, I couldn't bear to see him like this and know it was my fault. I could have avoided all of this if I hadn't been blinded by my own happiness in seeing my friends again, in seeing a glimpse of the happiness we used to have together. "Why do you have to keep hanging out with them? Don't I matter to you? Don't you care about me?"

"You're getting it all wrong," my voice quivered as I fought back my tears. "You can't say these things, Dave, you're hurting me!"

"Well, what about me? Can't you see you're hurting me too?"

"I thought I told you not to make me choose."

"I'm not making you choose! "

"Yes, you are! I asked you to trust me..."

"I do trust you, damn it! I love you!"

"Then act like you love me!" I shouted. I gasped in shock as he swiftly closed the distance between us, pulling me close to his body furiously, and kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth with a fervor I'd never felt before. I moaned into his kiss, my legs going weak as I clung to his arms. His embrace tightened around my waist, his other hand gripping the base of my neck just enough to leave me breathless.

"If you want me to prove that I love you, then I'm gonna prove it now," he growled, anger smoldering in his eyes like poison. I pulled him into another kiss, my body burning like wildfire as he undressed me and we stumbled towards the bedroom.

"Is this what you wanted all along?" I mumbled, my lingering frustration from our argument making me bolder as I hastily removed his shirt, his lips seeking mine in a desperate hunger.

"Don't test me, Burton," he snarled. I let out a surprised gasp as he spun me around, firmly placing me on my knees at the edge of the bed. One of his arms held my waist, pressing my back against his chest, while the other hand gripped the nape of my neck, his lips and tongue aggressively exploring my soft skin.

“D… Dave…” I closed my eyes, a muffled moan escaping my lips as his hand on my waist moved down to the wetness between my legs, his fingers penetrating me without warning and curling inside me. He rumbled against my skin, holding me closer to him, his lips gliding up my neck until they reached my ear.

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, a hint of concern evident in his voice despite his tension. I shook my head “no”, pressing myself against him, and he chuckled softly before pulling my waist tightly against his own, pushing my shoulder until I was on all fours on the bed. I moaned softly as he caressed my ass slowly before giving me a slap that made my skin crawl all over, pain and pleasure mixed together as tears gathered in my eyes. He grunted quietly, seeming pleased with my reaction. “Do you like that? Answer me. ”

“Y… Yeah… Ah! ” I flinched when he slapped me again, and he laughed. I felt my heart speed up when I heard him take off his pants and felt him climb onto the bed, his hands slowly caressing my waist.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, his fingers penetrating me again and moving inside me. I moaned softly, my skin still tingling with the pain of his spanking, contrasting with the increasing pleasure that the movement of his fingers made me feel.

I moaned as he pressed his cock against me, my clenched fists gripping the bed sheet tightly as he entered me slowly. Dave let out a low moan, holding my waist tightly as he began to move. I closed my eyes, reduced to a mess of muffled moans as I felt him move, pushing deeper and deeper, making my whole body shake with pleasure. Right then, I knew he was taking out all his frustration and anger on me — and I loved every second of it.

"You're mine," he rumbled, his voice low. He drew me in closer, guiding me up again as he pressed my back against his chest, still holding my waist with one hand as he thrust faster and faster inside me, his lips eagerly seeking mine. I moaned into his kiss when his tongue invaded my mouth, taking one of my hands to my clit, massaging it in circles while burying my other hand in his hair. He brought his other hand up to my face, pulling away slightly and tracing the outline of my lip with his thumb as he looked into my eyes, his lips parted and his eyes out of focus as he lost himself in pleasure. “You’re mine,” he murmured, feverishly, his hips moving faster and faster, hitting all the sweetest spots inside me. I shuddered, moaning loudly as I felt my body contract, our peaks approaching together. “You’re mine, Nore. Mine.”

“Ah… D-Dave!” I closed my eyes, letting him press me against his body as my orgasm swept through me in a shock wave that made me contract all over. He groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he came with me, his movements becoming sloppy as his seed filled me.

I sighed, shakily, as he pulled out of me. I laid face down on the bed, letting out a groan into the pillow. He gently pushed my hair aside, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder before settling down beside me.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired in a hushed tone while his fingers gently traced my cheek. I opened my eyes and gazed into his concerned expression, mustering a faint smile.

"Everything's fine," I mumbled, reaching my hand up to his face. He furrowed his brows, suddenly recoiling as he seized my wrist.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice tensing, his eyes locking onto my knuckles. I blinked in surprise. In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten momentarily that my hand was still a little swollen, the skin turning a soft shade of purple as the bruises from the previous day's punch began to appear.

"It wasn't a big deal, Dave," I said, and he gave me an incredulous look. I blinked, feeling my face flush. "Just some jerk who tried to hassle me after the gig yesterday. So, I gave him a punch."

"You did what?" he asked, sounding genuinely shocked. I chuckled softly, but Dave frowned, concerned, as if he didn't quite buy my reaction. "Nore, this is serious! Did he do something to you?"

"Dave, it's alright... Cliff helped me." I stretched the truth a bit. I didn't want to bring up James' help, not after Dave and I had our spat about the album. Especially not after recalling last night in the kitchen and the way James had held my hand, his eyes locking onto mine for just a fleeting moment before Leanne and Cliff interrupted us.

“You go out solo once, and this is what happens?” Dave grumbled, and I chuckled as I cradled his face in my hands. He sighed before drawing me nearer, planting a slow kiss on my lips. I sighed happily, feeling myself melt into the warmth of his kiss as I nestled in his embrace. He pulled back, gently gripping my chin. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you.”

"It's okay, Dave," I murmured, softly. "But you've got to trust me. I'm with you because I love you."

"I know. I'm sorry," he replied, his voice gentle, burying his face in my chest and pulling me into a tight hug. "You're mine," he whispered, his arms embracing me as if he needed to reassure himself that what he said was true. "Everything's alright. You're mine."

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