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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 7 months ago

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Fire! -Oneshot

Word count: 2157

“Mama please?” Jack begged from the back seat, his eyes bulging at the sight of the fire station they passed on their way home every day.

“Not today, Jack,” Y/N sighed heavily.

“Then when?” he pressed, craning his neck to keep an eye on it as they turned the corner down the street to their house.

“I’ll look up the tour hours on the website again,” Y/N replied, smiling to herself at his insistence.

“Maybe next time we’ll get to meet the new fire chief,” Jack said wistfully, turning back to look at her.

“Well, he is the chief. He’s probably a very busy and important man,” Y/N said, playing into it with a nod. “We just keep missing him the last couple of times we’ve gone.”

Jack sighed and Y/N looked at him through the rearview mirror. He was looking out the window with a dreamy look on his face. She wasn’t sure where his love for fire stations came from. He had seen a fire truck rush by one day when he was two and started imitating the sirens, and ever since then he wanted to learn everything there was to know about fire, fire stations, fighting fires, just everything fire. Not that Y/N was complaining about going to the fire station. The firefighters in their area were very kind and enjoyed whenever Jack showed up in the tour groups, gladly showing him around even in more behind the scenes areas than they normally would. She would always bring a batch of goodies with her as well, and they always greeted her with excited smiles when she handed them plates of cookies, brownies, a cake, and one time when she was feeling extra, warm sandwich dinners in fire stationed themed brown paper bags. It also helped that they were attractive.

Being a single mom meant that Y/N didn’t have much time for dating. She didn’t necessarily want or need a man, but at times she was lonely, and contemplated dating again. But then she would think about how crazy her life was right now, and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. Jack was only 7. She didn’t want to expose him to people coming in and out of his life just yet. His dad had disappeared when she was pregnant, signing away parental rights rather than stepping up or paying child support. She swore to herself then that she’d never hitch her wagon to another man who couldn’t do the bare minimum. But she could look and appreciate a good looking man, right?

When they got in the house she got busy helping Jack unload his backpack and things from school then getting started on dinner. She turned on a show for him and set him up with his coloring and craft things before rolling up her sleeves and fishing out ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator. After about twenty minutes she was finishing up her quick dinner idea when she realized it had been extra quiet. She stiffened, turning off the stove and removing the food onto a cool burner before walking into the front room. Jack wasn’t at the coffee table. Something felt wrong.

“Jack?” she called out, her head turning towards the hallway that led to the bathroom and bedrooms. There was no answer, and she marched down the hallway. The bathroom was empty. His room was empty. Her room and bathroom were empty.

“Jack?!” she yelled, becoming more panicked by the second. She ran outside, checking around the house then ran back inside. The front door was unlocked, his sneakers and his mockup of a firefighter coat missing off the hook. She gasped and grabbed her keys, phone, shoes and coat, locking the house before running over to her car.

***

Bucky walked into his office, his focus on the file in his hands. There was a squeak from his desk and he looked up to find a little boy sitting in his desk chair, wearing a small firefighter coat. He tilted his head and frowned. “Hello?”

“Hi!” the little boy smiled. “Are you the fire chief?”

“Yes,” Bucky slowly smiled, setting the file down on a corner of the desk and sitting at the chair opposite his.

The little boy gasped and smiled wider. “I’ve been wanting to meet you! I’m Jack,” he said, shoving his hand out over the desk.

Bucky chuckled and reached his hand out, shaking his hand. “I’m Bucky. It’s nice to meet you, Jack,” he nodded. “Um, how did you get here?”

“I walked,” he shrugged, twirling the chair around. “The other guys weren’t here so I took a tour.”

Bucky nodded, trying to not laugh at the absurdity of the moment. “So, does your mom or dad know you’re here?”

“No,” he said, twirling around again. “Mama’s working on dinner. But I wanted to come ask about a job here before she’s done.”

Bucky’s lips tightened. “A job, huh? Well, you’re not quite old enough to work here yet,” he said. “And there’s a lot of training and some school you gotta go through first.”

Jack stopped twirling the chair and stared at Bucky, looking crestfallen. “Oh, really?”

Bucky nodded sadly. “Yeah. Do you wanna be a firefighter someday?” Jack nodded frantically. “Well, you’ve got a good first start,” he said cheerfully. “You said you know the guys?” Jack nodded again, twirling the chair again. “So you’ve been here before?”

“Yep. Me and my Mama have taken a bunch of tours,” he said, stopping the chair and opening Bucky’s desk drawers, inspecting what was inside. “She brings treats for them.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. “Oh, your mom’s the one that brings the goodies?” Jack nodded, smiling proudly. “She’s a good baker,” Bucky said appreciatively. “But uh, we should probably get you back home so she and your dad don't worry about you.”

“I don’t have a dad,” Jack said offhandedly. “Do you wanna be my dad?” he asked, giving Bucky a pleading look.

Bucky’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, then a frantic voice yelled from downstairs.

“JACK?!”

“Uh oh,” Jack said, ducking down underneath Bucky’s desk.

Bucky sighed and stood up, walking to the railing that overlooked where the trucks parked. A woman was searching around the trucks looking for him. “Up here!” he called out. She whirled around and looked up at him. Goddamn, he thought. She was beautiful, even with tears streaming down her face and a look of worry etched in her brow. She ran over and bounded up the stairs toward him.

“You found him? A little boy? Wearing a firefighter coat?” she asked frantically.

“Yes,” Bucky said, putting an arm around her and leading her to his office. She looked around expectantly but frowned when she didn’t see him. “He was asking about getting a job, weren’t you Jack?” he called out and knocked on the top of his desk.

A giggle sounded from underneath the desk and she sighed heavily, rounding the desk and reaching down, pulling him out. “What were you thinking?” she asked him, her emotions getting the best of her as she cried again. “You can’t just leave the house by yourself and walk to the fire station!” She hugged him close and Jack frowned.

“I’m sorry Mama,” he said sadly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She sighed again and pulled away to look him over. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I met the fire chief,” he gestured to Bucky.

She looked back up at Bucky and quickly wiped her face before pulling Jack away from his desk. “Oh, you did huh?” she asked playfully.

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky said, holding his hand out to her.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she answered, shaking his hand. “I’m so sorry about this, but thank you for taking care of him.”

“No problem,” he said, squeezing her hand before letting go. “But from now on, how about we make sure you come during touring hours, okay bud?” he said to Jack, leaning down to look at him. “Don’t want you getting run over by a truck as it's leaving on a call, do we?”

“Nope,” Jack said, his eyes widening. “They can weigh up to 40,000 pounds!”

“That’s right,” Bucky said, impressed by his knowledge.

“Well, thank you again,” Y/N said, pushing Jack towards the door.

“Do you wanna come for dinner?” Jack asked suddenly, looking at Bucky hopefully.

“Oh, Jack, he’s probably still on shift,” Y/N said quickly, giving Bucky an apologetic look.

“No, actually, I just got off about ten minutes ago,” Bucky said quickly, shaking his head, wanting to find an excuse to spend more time with them.

She looked at him in surprise. “Well, I’m sure your family will be missing you.”

He shook his head and gave her a soft smile. “Nope, it’s just me and a roommate. So if it’s okay with Mama,” he glanced at Jack then back at Y/N, “I say yes.”

Y/N glanced at Jack as he looked up at her and nodded, sticking his bottom lip out. She shook her head and huffed a laugh. “Sure,” she said, smiling at Bucky.

***

Twenty minutes later Bucky was sitting at their dining table, digging into the food she’d been working on before Jack disappeared that she had to warm up for a few minutes. Y/N kept stealing glances at him as Jack talked her and Bucky’s ear off during dinner. He was incredibly handsome, probably one of the hottest men she’d ever seen. His attractiveness only got better as he happily engaged Jack in conversation, playing into the stories Jack told and telling stories of his own about the firefighters at the station that Jack had already met.

She caught him looking at her a few times, and she would blush as he smirked at her, quickly looking away and focusing back on Jack. When they were all finished Bucky insisted on doing the dishes, and Y/N put the last bit of food into a to-go tupperware for him to take home to his roommate.

“Steve will love this,” Bucky smiled appreciatively as he held the tupperware. “He’s a big fan of anything Italian.” He smiled at Jack and Y/N. “I’m sorry I kept missing you guys on the tours,” he said.

“Mama said you’re a very busy and important man,” Jack said in explanation.

Bucky looked at Y/N teasingly and she hung her head in embarrassment, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh yes, I’m very busy and important,” he said. “But the guys always share those treats you bring. They’re really good,” he complimented her. “Those smores cookies are my favorite.”

Y/N had to bite back a wide smile at his praise. “I’m glad you like them,” she said. “I’ll have to make extra next time.”

“Please,” Bucky nodded.

Y/N had Jack say goodbye to Bucky then sent him off to get ready for bed as she walked Bucky to the door. He stood on her stoop and looked up at her as she leaned on the doorway. “Thank you, again, for watching over him,” she said quietly. “I’m so embarrassed that I lost my own son.”

“You didn’t lose him, he took a walk,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “No harm no foul. He’s welcome anytime. As are you,” he said, peering up at her.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the look he gave her. She nodded and licked her lips, biting her lower lip and gnawing at it. Bucky reached a hand up and gently pulled her lip away from her teeth with his thumb. They stared at each other for a moment, the air feeling electric between them before she swallowed harshly. “Sorry, nervous habit,” she whispered.

“Do I make you nervous?” Bucky asked quietly.

“A little bit,” Y/N replied automatically.

He smirked again. “Would you like to go out on a date with me sometime?”

She looked at him in surprise. “I…I’d need to find a babysitter.”

“Steve could watch him,” Bucky said, taking a step back toward her.

“Your roommate that I’ve never met?” she giggled.

“Well, give me your number and then we can all meet up and you can grill Steve before trusting him with your child,” he said, his cocky smirk never leaving his face. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, unlocked it and handed it to her.

Y/N scoffed a quiet laugh before taking his phone and inputting her information into it. She handed it back to him and smiled mischievously. “You’re not too busy and important next Saturday are you?”

Bucky’s eyes slightly widened as she played into the banter with him, and it made her inwardly proud to surprise him. “N-no,” he minutely shook his head.

“Alright,” Y/N said. “Text me the details.”

His smile widened. “Okay. Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Bucky.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #ask #request #anon ask #oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot

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kinkyrafe · 9 months ago

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Two Hours, Eighteen Minutes

Kinktober, October 12

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

The one where Rafe is edged for exactly two hours and eighteen minutes.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

taglist: @yagirlwrites @audzzz @valyrianflower @aariahnaa

Rafe and you haven’t been able to meet up for a couple of days now. It’s still way too early in the relationship to even think about moving in together, though a part of you can’t help but wonder what it would be like. Another part of you isn’t entirely sure if Rafe and you even like each other outside the bedroom.

The sex is incredible, no doubt—the best you’ve ever had. Your gut tells you it’s the same for him. You’d introduced him to this whole world only a couple of months ago, and so far, he’d embraced every part of it. He worships you.

Still, sex alone doesn’t make a relationship, and you can’t help but get insecure sometimes. You wonder whether he’s more enamored with the way you dominate him than who you are. But those thoughts disappear as soon as your phone rings the minute you leave your office.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rafe’s voice rasps through your AirPods. “How did your presentation go?”

Your heart warms. He’d sent a couple of good luck texts throughout the day, but hearing his voice check in felt different—more intimate.

“It went really well,” you reply, pushing through the door and heading down the stairs. “They loved the proposal. It’s basically accepted; I’ll know by Monday.”

“Sounds great,” Rafe responds. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah. Thank you for checking in, babe. How’s your day?”

“Eh,” he sighs, “boring as fuck, but okay.”

“Are you off work already?” you ask, your voice turning suggestive. “I could think of a couple ways to make your day more exciting.”

“One more client,” he groans. “I could be at your place in maybe one and a half hours. Two, max.”

You grin, an idea already forming. “I’ll give you an incentive to hurry then,” you say smugly, unlocking your car. “I’m gonna time how long it takes you to get here. However long it takes, that’s how many minutes I’ll edge you tonight.”

His groan is instant, guttural. “Babe, no, you can’t do that to me.”

“Aw, I’ve done worse,” you tease, waving goodbye to your coworker in the parking lot. “Just think about how good it’ll feel when I finally let you come.”

“Fuck, babe. I’m hard already,” he admits.

You laugh softly, “Better behave for that last client then.”

“I will, I just need a second,” he chuckles.

“Maybe we should stop talking. The clock’s ticking.” And with that, you hang up, leaving him to stew in his anticipation.

Two hours and eighteen minutes. That’s the time he has to last tonight.

You order Rafe to sit on the couch, and he obeys without hesitation. There’s a mix of excitement and tension in his eyes as you stand over him, watching his every move.

“The only thing you need to do is obey,” you remind him with a wicked grin. “I’ll handle the rest.”

First, you tie his hands behind his back, tight but not too tight—just enough to remind him of his place. Then, you hold the ball gag in front of his mouth, giving him that familiar, expectant look. He knows the routine, so you prompt him anyway, “Remind me of your safe words and the gestures for when you’re gagged.”

He quickly shows you, and you nod approvingly. “Good boy. Open up.”

He opens his mouth willingly, and you fit the gag between his lips, securing it behind his head. Then you grab the blindfold, wrapping it around his head and plunging him into darkness.

You move behind him, kneeling on the couch, so his back is against your chest, his body sitting between your legs. “Spread those legs wide,” you command, your voice low and firm.

He obeys, his thighs parting for you.

“Keep them spread. That’s your only job today. Keep those legs open for me.”

You set a timer on your phone and place it beside you. “Two hours and eighteen minutes,” you murmur into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “When the timer goes off, you can come whenever you’re able.” You lean closer, lips grazing his neck. “Until then, you’re mine to play with.”

You hit start on the timer. It’s going to be a long, teasing stretch—especially since he can’t see how much time has passed. The power of control pulses through you, making you feel downright diabolical.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss just below his ear, his sensitive spot. His cock twitches, a low moan escaping his gagged lips.

“Mmm, so responsive already,” you praise, smiling against his neck. You start by spanking his inner thighs, alternating between slow strokes and stinging slaps, enough to make his skin redden. You drag your nails across the heated flesh in between sets, making him shiver.

“Has it been two hours yet?” he manages to ask through the gag, humor barely hiding his discomfort as you land a slap dangerously close to his balls.

You smirk. “Still in a joking mood?” You slap him harder, making his legs tremble as he tries to keep them spread. You dig your nails into his thigh, watching his body strain against his binds.

"Remember," you say, your voice feigning innocence as you lightly tap his balls, "the gag is there for a reason. I don't want to hear you speak, understood?"

He nods quickly, his thighs quivering with the effort of holding himself open for you. When his knees shift in slightly, instinctively protecting his sensitive balls, you tap them harder.

“Open your legs for me,” you command. His legs fly apart immediately, and you smile. “Good boy. Keep them wide like that.”

Then, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly. He’s rock hard, his cock twitching in your hand. It doesn’t take long before he’s edging closer and closer, his body tensing with every touch. But you don’t let him have the release he’s dying for. You build him up, only to pull him back from the edge over and over.

Twenty minutes in, he’s already a moaning, trembling mess, his body on fire from your teasing. His legs start to close, just a little, betraying his struggle to hold back. You grab the paddle this time and smack his thighs, hard.

“Spread your legs,” you snap, “or I’ll make this even harder.”

His groan is loud, almost desperate, but he obeys, his knees jerking back apart. You tilt his head back by the chin to keep him upright, and then you start playing with his nipples, flicking your knuckles over the hardened buds. He whimpers, his hips bucking helplessly.

“Poor boy,” you tease, twisting his nipples harshly. “I haven’t even started on these yet.”

You work his nipples relentlessly, twisting and tugging, pulling soft, pathetic moans from his throat. You know you could make him cum just from this alone if you wanted to.

Every time his legs twitch closed, you shove them back open, spanking him hard to remind him who’s in charge. He’s been warned multiple times.

You don’t talk much during the session; your actions are enough. The control, the power—you don’t need to rile him up with words. His body is already past the point of begging, past coherent thoughts, just reacting to your every touch.

After an hour and a half, you really need to change positions. You untie him briefly and order him to kneel on the couch, his knees spread wide. Then, you bend him over, his chest and head pressed against the cushions, his ass raised high.

With his hands still tied behind his back, the position is uncomfortable, but you know it’ll help him last longer. You wrap a cock ring around his balls without warning, and he lets out a choked groan of relief—until he feels the cold lube drizzle over his hole.

“You didn’t think I’d make this easy, did you?” you ask, your voice playful as you slide the prostate massager inside him. He shakes his head, swallowing around the gag.

His body is so tense, every jerk of his hips is unnatural, his movements erratic as he fights to hold himself back.

You barely have to do anything now. Holding his cock in both hands, you run slow circles over the sensitive head, teasing him. His body is past words now. You can’t remember the last time he managed to choke out a proper “please.” All that escapes his mouth are desperate sounds—soft “oh”s and gasps of tortured pleasure.

You listen, savoring every noise, each gasp and groan. “Such pretty noises you’re making for me... am I making you feel good?”

You stroke him firmly, up and down his length, watching as his body convulses, his breathing ragged and uneven. His hips jerk upwards as the build-up of his orgasm starts again, only to sink back down onto the couch when you stop your ministrations.

You smile. This is what people mean when they say you can play someone’s body like an instrument. Every word, every touch, every slight movement—his body responds without thought. He’s a puppet, and you’re pulling the strings.

He’s so close now, but you don’t let him cum. Not yet.

“Too bad,” you coo, “you still have some time to go.” Luckily for him, it’s only another minute and a half, but he doesn’t need to know that. You resume your slow, torturous pace, keeping him on the edge. His body is trembling uncontrollably now, every muscle tensing and releasing as if he’s barely holding on.

The room is filled with the sounds of his ragged breaths, muffled whimpers, and the soft ticking of the timer. You love every second of it—watching him strain, seeing how desperate he is to let go but knowing he can’t. Not yet.

Just as you run your fingers lightly over his sensitive cock again, the timer goes off.

The sound fills the room, but Rafe doesn’t notice at first. He’s too far gone, too overwhelmed by everything you’ve done to him. When it finally registers, a sob of relief escapes him. His whole body slumps forward, barely held up by the restraints. You smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“You made it,” you whisper, your voice filled with praise. “So, so good, babe.”

You remove the cock ring, and with just a few firm strokes, his entire body tenses again. The moans that rip from his throat are muffled by the gag as his orgasm crashes through him like a tidal wave. You can feel every tremor, every shudder, as his body shakes uncontrollably, ropes of cum spilling from his cock as you continue stroking him through it. He’s completely, utterly ruined, just how you wanted him.

When he’s finally spent, you slowly untie his wrists, careful not to let him collapse into an awkward position. You remove the blindfold and the gag, stroking his hair softly, letting him catch his breath.

“I love seeing you like this—completely ruined, all because of me,” you say with a satisfied smile as you wipe the cum from his body with a warm cloth. He’s too exhausted to respond immediately, his breathing still labored, but he manages a small chuckle.

“My brain always clocks out about halfway through,” he admits with a breathless laugh. His voice is hoarse, and you can see the openness in his eyes. It’s one of your favorite parts, how completely vulnerable and raw he is after a session like this.

“Yeah?” you ask, grinning as you lie down beside him on the couch, pulling him into your arms. “And yet you made it all the way through.”

He leans into you, his body finally relaxed, spent. “I never would’ve thought I’d love this so much,” he murmurs, a hint of awe in his voice.

You kiss his forehead gently, running your fingers through his hair. "You trust me," you say softly, "and that's everything."

A few weeks ago, he might’ve been shy or embarrassed about how deeply he’s fallen into submission, but not anymore. Now, he’s comfortable. Confident. There’s no shame, no hesitation. He knows he’s completely safe with you, that you’ll always take care of him—even when you push him to his limits.

He’s quiet for a while, just resting against you as you stroke his back, giving him the aftercare he needs. It’s a peaceful moment, a contrast to the intensity of everything that just happened. You savor it, holding him close, knowing that these quiet moments are just as important as the play itself.

Eventually, he looks up at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft but sincere. “For everything.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Always,” you reply. And you mean it.

#sub!rafekinktober #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx #sub!rafe #kinktober #drew starkey #subby boys

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nickistuffs · 5 months ago

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Learning new things together

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: A night of laughter, billiards, and heartfelt moments with Harry

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: None. just fluff

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

…

Harry called you last minute for dinner at a restaurant he’d been excited for you to try, and now here you were, standing in front of your mirror, debating which outfit best suited the occasion. As you held up options and analyzed yourself in the reflection, the doorbell suddenly rang. Glancing at the clock, you frowned—Harry was early.

Opening the door in your soft blue pajamas, you stared at him in disbelief. “Why are you already here?” you asked, baffled at his uncharacteristic punctuality.

Harry leaned against the doorframe, a playful grin spreading across his face as he took in your attire. “Didn’t realize we were having a sleepover, Y/N,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. “Haha, very funny. But seriously, why are you so early? You could’ve texted me before showing up.”

“I did get us a reservation,” Harry explained, stepping inside, “but it’s gonna take a couple of hours. Thought we could do something fun before dinner.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Oh? What do you have in mind, H?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying keeping you in suspense. “That’s a surprise. But as much as I love the whole pajama look you’ve got going on, I don’t think it’s gonna fly at the place I’m taking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, loser,” you muttered, shaking your head as you disappeared into your room. Emerging a few minutes later, you held up two outfits in your hands. “Alright, my personal stylist—which one’s better?”

“Oh, this one is casual and cute but still chic,” Harry said, pointing to one of the outfits. “Go on, don’t take too long, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and disappeared into your bedroom to change. A few minutes later, you stepped out, now dressed in the chosen outfit, holding a soft rose-colored lip gloss in hand. Facing the mirror, you carefully applied it, pursing your lips and smacking them together to blend the color evenly.

Behind you, Harry leaned casually against the doorway, his eyes locked on your reflection. He was utterly enamored. There was something so captivating about the simplicity of the moment—just you putting on lip gloss—and yet it made his heart flutter.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked softly, his voice warm as he continued to gaze at you, his expression gentle.

Looking at him through the mirror, you smiled and gave a small nod. “Yup,” you replied, the "p" popping, as you turned to grab your bag. Harry chuckled, shaking his head at how effortlessly adorable you were.

...

Once you were ready, Harry led you out to his car, opening the passenger door for you with a playful bow. “Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he teased, earning an amused eye roll from you.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you replied, playing along as you settled into the seat.

Harry got into the driver’s side and started the car, soft music playing in the background as the two of you pulled onto the road. The initial silence was comfortable, but it didn’t take long for the gentle banter to begin.

“So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going, or is this a secret until we get there?” you asked, glancing over at him.

Harry smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “A surprise is more fun, don’t you think?”

“Depends. If this is your plan to ‘murder me’ kind of deal, I’m jumping out of this car right now.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Noted. No murdering schemes. But I promise it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “I’ll hold you to that. So, what made you decide to be early tonight? You’re usually on time... well, not this early.”

Harry shrugged, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Felt like surprising you. And I figured you might take forever to get ready.”

“Forever?” you exclaimed, pretending to be offended. “I was ready in record time, thank you very much.”

“Oh, sure,” he teased, glancing at you briefly. “That lip gloss application was lightning fast.”

You smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “Don’t mock the process, Styles.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that charming way that made your heart flutter. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The banter continued, shifting from the perils of being ‘fashionably late’ to a heated debate about Which bakery in the city had the best pastries. Time seemed to fly as the conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared laughter and playful jabs.

When the car slowed to a stop at the destination, you realized you hadn’t even noticed the drive. Harry’s company made everything feel light and easy like you could talk to him about anything and never get bored.

…

When the car finally came to a stop, you glanced out the window, squinting at the neon sign glowing above the entrance. “Ohh, a billiards bar?” you said, the surprise evident in your voice as you turned to Harry.

“Not just any billiards bar,” Harry said, grinning as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “This place is legendary. Great vibes, decent music, and I may or may not have had my fair share of victories here.”

You raised an eyebrow, unbuckling your seatbelt as well. “Victories, huh? So, are you challenging me already, Styles?”

He stepped out of the car and moved to your side, opening the door for you. “Oh, absolutely. But don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you. Beginner’s luck and all that.”

You laughed as you got out, straightening your top. “Who said I’m a beginner? I could be a billiards prodigy for all you know.”

Harry smirked, locking the car as the two of you walked toward the entrance. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll have to take this seriously.”

…

Inside, the place was alive with energy. The sound of clinking pool balls mixed with the low hum of conversation and the occasional cheer from a winning shot. Dim lighting, a jukebox in the corner playing a classic rock tune, and the faint scent of wood polish gave the place a cosy, retro vibe.

You both ordered a cocktail to start the night, Harry led you to an empty table in the corner, grabbing a couple of cues from the rack on the wall. He handed one to you with a sly smile. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You took the cue, twirling it as you inspected the table. “Alright, Styles. Don’t cry when I destroy you.”

He chuckled, leaning casually against the table. “Big words. Let’s see if you can back them up.”

The game started lightheartedly, with Harry explaining a few basics and showing off his skills. But as soon as it was your turn, you sunk three balls in a row, leaving him slack-jawed at you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, holding a hand to pause the game. “Are you actually hustling me right now?”

You smirked, lining up your next shot. “I told you, I’m not a beginner.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, Y/N. Game on.”

The rest of the game was filled with laughter and competitive banter. Harry, determined not to lose, pulled out all the stops, even playfully trying to distract you with commentary and exaggerated moves. Despite his antics, you held your own, the friendly rivalry making the evening even more fun.

As he was concentrating on the ball to hit you looked at him under the harsh fluorescent light, you see his brows furrowed and as he was about to hit the ball he poked his tongue out. Adorable god you can’t believe you’re here with him.

…

The game started with a mix of playful banter and a fair amount of determination from both sides. Harry had quickly taken the lead, his confidence evident in the way he lined up each shot with ease. You, on the other hand, were holding your own but quickly realized that Harry had a few tricks up his sleeve.

"Alright, pro," you teased after his third ball sank into a pocket, "you gonna give me a chance, or are you trying to hustle me now?"

He chuckled, leaning casually on his cue stick. "Hustle you? Please, I’m being nice."

You rolled your eyes, lining up for your next shot. The cue ball cracked against the solid yellow, sending it wobbling dangerously close to a corner pocket before missing entirely. Groaning, you straightened up. "Okay, maybe you should hustle me. Clearly, I need the lesson."

Harry grinned, setting his cue aside and walking over to you. "Alright, let me help you out. Can’t have you going easy on me next round."

Before you could protest, he was standing behind you, his hands gently resting over yours as you held the cue. His warmth was impossible to ignore, and your heart skipped as his voice dropped, soft and instructive.

"First off, your aim’s not bad, but your stance could use some work," he said, nudging your feet apart with his own. "There. Now, grip the cue a little lighter—don’t strangle it."

You followed his instructions, your breath hitching when he adjusted your grip with his hands, his touch steady but gentle.

"Now, look straight at the ball you’re aiming for. See that angle? You want the cue ball to hit it right about there," he said, leaning in closer to point. His voice was calm and reassuring, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him.

"Got it," you murmured, though you weren’t sure if you were talking about the shot or the fact that his presence was completely distracting.

"Good. Now take the shot, nice and smooth."

You exhaled and focused, pulling the cue back slowly before sending it forward. The satisfying crack of the cue ball hitting the target ball echoed, and you both watched as it rolled perfectly into the corner pocket.

"Yes!" you cheered, spinning around to face him. "Finally!"

Harry laughed, stepping back but not without giving your shoulder a playful squeeze. "See? Told you you had it in you."

"Only because you helped," you said, grinning.

"Hey, teamwork makes the dream work," he replied, his dimpled smile lighting up his face.

As the game went on, Harry continued to help you, pointing out angles, correcting your form, and cracking jokes that had you laughing between shots. By the end, the score was close—closer than you’d expected.

When Harry narrowly won, he leaned on his cue stick, still catching his breath from laughing at your exaggerated “angry loser” act. "You’re better than I expected," he said, his eyes warm with admiration.

"And you’re just as competitive as I expected," you shot back, nudging him playfully.

His grin widened, dimples in full view. "I had to win. My pride was on the line."

"Well, congratulations, then," you said, setting your cue aside with a mock bow. "But don’t get too comfortable. Next round, I’m taking you down."

"Next round?" he asked, tilting his head, his voice light but his eyes sparkling with hope.

You brushed a strand of hair from your face, your smile matching his. "Yeah, next round."

"Alright," he said, his tone playful but sincere. "Next round, I’ll even let you win… maybe."

"Don’t you dare," you shot back, laughing as you both began setting up for the next game, the warmth of the moment lingering between you.

Taking a break from playing billiards, you and Harry sat at a small, cosy corner table in the bar, sipping on colorful cocktails. The laughter and easy banter from your game lingered, adding warmth to the air between you.

Harry leaned back in his chair, a soft smile on his face as he watched you take a sip of your drink. “You know,” he said, swirling the ice in his glass, “you really gave me a run for my money back there. I almost thought you’d actually beat me.”

You grinned, setting your glass down. “Almost? Harry, I was one lucky shot away from making you cry.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. I’ll just remind you who walked away with the win tonight.”

Before you could come up with a witty retort, Harry’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly as he read the notification.

“Looks like our dinner reservation’s coming up,” he said, setting the phone down and meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin. “I hope you’ve still got room after those snacks we had earlier.”

He chuckled and stood, offering you his hand. “Come on, let’s see if I can keep this streak of impressing you going.”

You took his hand, the warmth of his palm sending a small flutter through you as he helped you up. Together, you walked out of the bar, the evening air crisp but not too cold, the city lights glowing softly around you.

The restaurant he’d chosen was tucked into a quiet street, its glowing sign and warm, candlelit interior immediately setting the tone for something intimate and thoughtful. As the host led you to your table, you couldn’t help but glance at Harry, who seemed oddly proud of himself.

“Alright, I’ll admit it,” you said as you took your seat. “This place is… impressive.”

“Good,” he said, sitting across from you and leaning back in his chair, his confidence still shining through. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

...

You were both scanning the menu, the soft candlelight flickering between you. As your eyes trailed over the prices, your expression shifted slightly. The dishes looked exquisite, but the numbers next to them made you hesitate. Sure, you could afford it, but fancy restaurants like this weren’t exactly your usual scene.

Harry noticed almost instantly. With a gentle nudge of his foot against yours under the table, he broke your concentration.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, it’s my treat. I did invite you to dinner, after all.”

You looked up at him, his easygoing smile instantly putting you at ease. There was no judgment, no expectation—just genuine kindness.

Still, you couldn’t help but want to contribute in some way. Smiling, you said, “At least let me buy us dessert.”

Harry’s grin widened, his dimples making a charming appearance as he leaned back in his chair. “Deal,” he said, his tone light and playful. “But only if you let me pick what we’re getting.”

“Fine,” you replied, laughing softly. “But if you pick something terrible, I’m taking that back.”

He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough.”

As you both returned to the menu, the initial nervousness melted away, replaced by the warmth of shared smiles and the growing comfort between you.

...

As the waiter walked away with your orders, you and Harry sat back, the soft hum of conversations and gentle clinking of silverware filling the cozy space around you. The atmosphere between you was relaxed, the kind that made it easy to slip into playful banter.

Harry rested his chin on his hand, his elbow propped casually on the table. “So,” he began with a teasing smirk, “what’s your strategy for dessert? Are you going to go classic or adventurous?”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly. “Oh, I’m absolutely going adventurous. If I’m letting you pick, I’m going to make sure you’ve got good taste in more than just restaurants.”

“Good taste? Have you seen who I’m having dinner with?” he shot back, grinning.

You felt a faint blush creep up your cheeks but decided to play it cool, meeting his grin with one of your own. “Flattery will only get you so far, Styles. But nice try.”

He chuckled, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “Alright, fine. But let’s be real—you seem like you’re used to being treated well. I bet your past boyfriends had to step up their game to keep up with you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment. A sheepish smile spread across your face as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Funny you should say that… because there haven’t been any.”

Harry’s brows shot up, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “Wait, none? You’re telling me you’ve never been in a relationship?”

You shrugged, a small laugh escaping. “What can I say? I’ve just never found the right person—or maybe I’m too picky. Or, you know, I’ve been busy walking my neighbor’s dogs and losing at billiards.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, his expression softening. “Honestly, I don’t get it. You’re smart, funny, and clearly a good sport when you lose—”

“Hey,” you interrupted with mock indignation, making him laugh.

“—and you’ve got this energy about you that makes people want to stick around,” he continued, his tone genuine now. “Anyone would be lucky to call you their girlfriend.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a moment, you were grateful the dim lighting probably hid the color rising in your cheeks. “Thanks,” you said softly, your voice carrying a mix of shyness and sincerity. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

Harry smiled, his dimples making another appearance. “Just telling the truth.”

Before either of you could say more, the waiter returned with your drinks, breaking the moment but leaving a warmth between you that lingered as the conversation naturally shifted to lighter topics. By the time the food arrived, you both were laughing again, but the exchange still hung in the back of your mind—a reminder that this night was turning into something more meaningful than you’d expected.

As the plates were cleared and the conversation wound down, you both leaned back in your chairs, a comfortable silence settling over the table. Harry swirled the last of his drink in his glass while you busied yourself with your phone, an idea forming in your mind.

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you scrolled. “Gelato’s nice and all,” you said casually, your tone teasing, “but have you ever had bingsu?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Bingsu? Can’t say I have. What is it?”

“It’s like shaved ice, but better,” you said, excitement creeping into your voice. “It’s fluffy, sweet, and they pile it up with toppings—fruit, condensed milk, red bean, whatever you want. Way better than plain old gelato.”

He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Better than gelato? That’s a bold claim. You know I’ve spent a lot of time in Italy, right? Gelato’s kind of sacred.”

“Trust me,” you said, holding up your phone triumphantly. “I’m about to convert you. There’s a place just a few blocks from here that’s supposed to be amazing.”

Harry grinned, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm. “Alright, I’m in. But if it doesn’t live up to the hype, you’re officially banned from insulting gelato ever again.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, slipping your phone back into your bag as the waiter approached with the check.

Harry reached for the bill without hesitation, but you leaned over, protesting. “Hey, I said I’d at least get dessert!”

“This isn’t dessert,” he said smoothly, handing over his card with a cheeky grin. “This is dinner. Dessert is your department, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. But I’m picking the most extravagant bingsu on the menu.”

“Good,” he said, standing and holding out his hand to help you up. “I’m expecting nothing less.”

As the two of you strolled out into the cool evening air, you led the way to the small café, the excitement bubbling in you. The city lights glimmered around you, the streets quieter now but still alive with a gentle energy.

When you arrived at the café, its warm, inviting glow immediately drew you in. The menu displayed colorful photos of towering bingsu creations, and you could already see Harry’s curiosity growing.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, scanning the options. “This is next-level.”

“Pick whatever catches your eye,” you said, nudging him playfully. “But I’m warning you—if you go for the chocolate one, you’re missing the real experience.”

Harry smirked, leaning closer to the menu. “Alright, I trust you. You’re the expert. Surprise me.”

With a grin, you ordered a classic strawberry bingsu, complete with fresh fruit, sweet syrup, and a drizzle of condensed milk. When it arrived, the mountain of fluffy shaved ice and vibrant toppings looked like something out of a dream.

Harry stared at it, impressed. “Okay, I’ll admit, it looks amazing.”

“Wait until you taste it,” you said, handing him a spoon. “But don’t eat too fast, or you’ll get brain freeze.”

As you both dug in, Harry’s eyes widened at the first bite. “Alright, you win,” he said, laughing. “This is incredible. Gelato’s got some competition.”

“See?” you said smugly, taking a bite of your own. “Told you.”

The two of you shared the dessert, trading bites and laughing when Harry inevitably ate too fast and winced from the cold. It was a small moment, but one that felt bigger—an easy, shared joy that made the night even sweeter.

...

Leaving the café, you both agreed a short stroll would be perfect to get the digestion moving. The night air was crisp but pleasant, and the gentle glow of streetlights illuminated the path ahead as your footsteps fell into an easy rhythm.

Conversation flowed naturally, weaving between topics like threads in a tapestry. Harry told you a story about his childhood—something about a particularly disastrous attempt at baking with his sister—and you laughed so hard you had to stop walking for a moment to catch your breath. In return, you shared a memory of your own, painting a vivid picture of your younger self that had Harry grinning ear to ear.

From there, the conversation shifted to your current lives—work, hobbies, even the little mundane things that you didn’t realize could feel so interesting when shared with him. He listened intently, his eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity, and you found yourself surprised by how easy it was to open up.

As you passed a quiet park, Harry slowed his pace, glancing at you with a soft smile. “Y/N,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “you’re so easy to talk to. It’s like… I don’t have to think too hard about what I say or how I say it. I’m just—comfortable.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you smiled back, warmth spreading through your chest. “I feel the same,” you admitted, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a conversation that just… flows, you know?”

He nodded, his expression growing even softer. “I’m really happy I met you.”

You glanced at him, your smile widening. “Me too. Tonight’s been… really nice.”

Harry chuckled, brushing his hand through his hair. “Nice is an understatement. I think tonight’s been one for the books.”

As you continued walking, the silence between you was no longer empty—it was full of unspoken understanding, the kind that comes when two people feel truly seen. The night seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, and you weren’t in any rush to get to the next moment for the first time in a long while. This one was perfect just as it was.

...

Can’t wait for the next one I have in store!

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fiction #one direction #harry styles husband #dad! harry #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles au

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mourningstars · 5 months ago

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broom - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 747

Gryffindor parties are loud. Regulus almost instantly regrets stepping into the abandoned dungeon classroom turned party spot, his eardrums cringing into themselves. The lighting is low with dozens of candles charmed to float near the ceiling like a perverted version of the Great Hall. Someone, most likely Sirius, has charmed a stereo to hover right above the middle of the room above a large throng of people dancing to a throbbing volume of muggle music. He debates just turning around as quickly as he can, but the next second Barty comes up behind him, blocking his exit with only a few inches between them.

“No running, they’ll all see,” Barty murmurs into his ear, his breath smelling like the fire whiskey they’d all shared back in the dorms before heading over. He brushes past before Regulus can react, dragging Evan with him, their hands intertwined. They disappear into the crowd before Regulus can decide if it’s worth a public stinging hex for leaning in so close to him.

Regulus takes a deep breath through his nose before striding in after them.

There’s faint smoke lingering near the back of the room and Regulus spots a few seventh-year Ravenclaws sharing a couple of cigarettes as they perch on old wooden desks shoved against the furthest wall. Without a second thought, he’s changed directions, wandering over and wondering how quickly he can bum one off them if they recognize he’s a friend of Barty’s. The room is packed, almost everyone around him writhing to the music, the tangy scent of sweat mixed with a mass of perfumes and food despite the early hour. Regulus can feel a headache forming behind his eyes.

As he’s almost escaped the densest part of the crowd near the back of the room, trying not to obviously cringe away from every limb that accidentally grazes him, Regulus slams right into what feels like a wall of muscle. He almost immediately forgets his craving for a smoke and the bodies that still swarm around him.

“Woah, sorry mate-” James Potter wraps his hands around Regulus’ biceps to steady him with a friendly smile before he freezes, “Reg?”

“Hello, Potter,” Regulus has to tip his head back a bit to look up at James, and Merlin he can’t believe he forgot about that height difference since they’d last seen each other. He tries to scowl, but the older boy just grins at his greeting, a dimple forming on his left cheek.

Regulus feels James’ chest brush his with the next breath he takes. Oh. They are standing very close. Regulus can smell eucalyptus, cigarette smoke, and a hint of broom polish coming from the other and has to resist the very embarrassing urge to just lean into James and inhale where his throat meets his chest.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show,” James continues holding onto Regulus’ arms and he’s not sure if he’s imagining the other boy’s grip get firmer, like letting go isn’t even on his mind. Suddenly he feels brave and maybe not as sober as he’d thought.

“I had to show up and congratulate you and Sirius on your win against Hufflepuff. It seemed only right since we’ll be winning this next match with you next weekend,” Regulus tilted his head to the side and let his lips curl up into one of his smirks, “Maybe I’ll invite you to our party after the win. I think you’d like to see how a Slytherin celebrates.”

He gets the reaction he’s hoping for when James turns just a little red under his soft brown skin and his eyes dip down to look at Regulus’ lips before looking up again, eyes wide behind black wire frame glasses. He would look almost comical if Regulus didn't already find the response so unfortunately endearing.

After a few more moments of eye contact, Regulus decides to take pity on the boy in front of him, “I’d like a drink, Potter.”

“Right,” James replies almost immediately, but he doesn't move an inch and his hands don't drop from Regulus’ body.

“Right…” He tries his best to keep the fond tone out of his voice because really, Regulus should not be so content with another’s hands on him. Especially for this long.

It takes a pointed look at one of his arms and a raised eyebrow for James to finally drop his hands- His large hands- with an unintelligible stutter.

Regulus barely holds back a smile, “Lead the way.”

#jegulus #daily prompts #microfic!!

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msbigredmachine · 1 year ago

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Power Couple: The Aftermath (Roman Reigns)

When the Tribal Chief falls, no one helps him back up better than you do. Set after the epic main event of Wrestlemania XL.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Warnings: Excess fluff and of course, smut.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Yes, I'm still in my feelings, and there was only one pairing I could properly convey my feelings with, because this has also been their story all along. For new readers, I strongly suggest reading the first two one-shots before delving into this one. Hope you enjoy!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

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

1,316 days.

All wiped away with three slaps of the referee’s hand to the hard canvas.

Even after Cody rolled away from him, Roman could not move. Hell, he couldn’t breathe. Not when the air had been punched out of his lungs, literally and figuratively. It was only when Dwayne pulled him out of the ring by his pants leg that his body managed to kickstart itself into some sort of motion. And even then, all he could do was turn his head to look back and watch as Cody celebrated in the ring with his wife Brandi, holding his title belt aloft for the whole world to behold as the ultimate symbol of his victory.

It should have been you and him up there. It should have been him. Again. But it wasn’t. Because the one time he got careless in battle, it cost him everything. Throwing years of hard work down the drain.

And it made him sick to his stomach.

The sound of ‘Kingdom’ blaring through the Lincoln Financial Field Stadium was torture to the former champion’s ears. His legs felt like lead as he dragged his battered body up the ramp, ignoring Dwayne’s baseless, performative complaints about nothing, as he put distance to the tableau of triumph of his opponent. The weight of this defeat was heavy, suffocating even, and he was desperate to get the fuck out of there, to get out of Philadelphia, out of Pennsylvania and all its environs. As he reached the top of the vast WrestleMania stage, pain surged through his abdomen, forcing him to recoil into himself and double over in pain.

His Wise Man noticed his plight and paused to observe his charge. "My Tribal Chief, are you alright? Do you need-"

Roman shook his head. "I'm fine,” he snapped, willing himself to keep walking until he made it past the curtain. He leaned against the wall and bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

“What can I do, my Tribal Chief?” Paul implored.

“Just…get my wife on the bus and make sure everything’s ready to go. I’ll be there soon."

“Right away my Tribal Chief,” Paul replied eagerly, scurrying off to do as he was told.

It was a good long minute before Roman managed to pull himself back upright, staggering towards his locker room. Walking was so hard, his body hurt so much, but none of it hurt as much as the gut punch of failure. Much worse than any of the bumps he took was the shame, the disappointment engulfing him; so much so that he couldn’t bear to look anyone else in the eye right now.

Because he had failed everyone who cared about him.

He had failed you.

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

All good things come to an end. That’s how the saying goes, right? The interesting part of that was that on the surface, it was a throwaway little trope, harmless and benign, until something that meant a great deal to you got taken away in the blink of an eye, or in this case, a three-count. The moment the bell signaled the pinfall that confirmed your husband's time as the Undisputed WWE Universal Champion had come to an end, you knew he would never be the same again.

It wasn't unlike Roman to be a little on edge weeks before a big premium live event. And given the nature of the two main event matches he was locked in for the fortieth annual WrestleMania, you expected he would be grouchy. But this time around seemed different, and not in a good way. He’d been surly towards everybody, including you. He disappeared for hours working out obsessively. He’d even thrown out a female member of the press who had dared to boo him at the press conference on Saturday night. Now, despite the final match of the weekend concluding nearly an hour ago, Roman was yet to return to his tour bus. That only meant one thing; he was not taking this defeat well, and it was up to you to lift him up, like you always did.

When you found the door boasting your husband's name, Heyman was outside, pacing back and forth. The Undisputed title, which you had grown accustomed to seeing on his shoulders on behalf of his Tribal Chief, was missing; a stark, prickly reminder of the outcome of tonight’s proceedings.

"That bad, huh?" you asked, reading the Wise Man’s expression in a second. In fact, he looked on the verge of tears, his shoulders sagging with despair. The weekend had taken an emotional toll on him, too.

"He won’t come out," he informed you, his usually confident voice shaky and helpless. “He won’t let anyone in and he won’t speak to anyone…”

You raised your index finger to cut him off. "Correction, he won’t speak to anyone that’s not me," you stated, shooting him a warm smile, one among countless others you had shared with him since burying the hatchet after years of friction between you. "Go be with your family, Paul. I’ll handle my husband.”

“He’s my family, too,” he declared softly, the conviction in what you used to call his beady eyes, palpable and heartbreaking, “Both of you are.”

Touched and at a loss for words, you could only look on as he turned around slowly and made the lonely walk down the hallway. Turning back to the locker room door, you sucked a breath between your teeth and blew it out, mentally preparing to confront this task head-on.

You knocked timidly and stuck your head inside. If Roman was in as foul a mood as Paul let on, even you did not want to be there. It had taken a few unfortunate incidents over the years for you to learn that even a kiss from his wife wasn't enough when he got too stressed. It never stopped you from trying, though. Kissing was one of your favorite things to do with him after all.

"Knock, knock," you called out softly, listening for signs of movement as you stepped inside and closed the door. The room that was bustling just a few hours ago was now stripped bare and cloaked in dead quiet. It was an eerie contrast to the majestic, sweeping grandiosity that encompassed his entrance to the ring tonight. “Babe?”

Venturing further inside the room, you found him on the couch, his strong, broad back to you, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. An open bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the coffee table in front of him. His ula fala was draped over the headrest, where his title belt would surely have been.

This was the reality no one warned you about after a monumental loss. It plunged you into a cold, dark abyss, wrought with biting silence and dreary loneliness now that the show was over and the lights were no longer bright. The what ifs, buts and maybes crooning in your ear like a morbid symphony. It was an experience all too familiar to you unfortunately, and recently, too; you and your husband had traveled down this terrible road following the tragic miscarriage of your son in the summer of 2022.

Stepping in front of him, you wiggled into his personal space and made yourself at home on his lap. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you sighed with relief when he instantly melted into you and his huge arms enveloped your waist, holding on to you like his life depended on it.

“My baby,” you cooed soothingly, the sound of your lips meeting the side of his head piercing through the emptiness of the locker room. “My love.”

The audible hitch of his breath at your soft words was expected. In the course of your lifetime, those two little phrases had garnered a poignant significance. As words of comfort and solace first uttered by your mother when you were a child, you murmured those words regularly to Roman between sweet, playful kisses when he was courting you, basking in the bliss of newfound love, and again as part of your wedding vows as you became man and wife. They were the first words you whispered to Laleia the first time she was placed in your arms. They were the words that you had cried yourself to sleep with as you mourned the baby boy you had lost. You and Roman had seen each other at your absolute best and worst, and now, in the isolation of this room, with just the two of you and nobody else, this was another bad moment you had to overcome.

“On Matt’s birthday, too,” Roman finally spoke, wiping at his nose with a sniffle. “Fuck, man.”

“I know,” you replied, running your hand comfortingly up and down his upper arm. As he met your gaze at last, you saw that his eyes were bloodshot. Seeing him like this broke your heart afresh. You held him as close as possible, willing all his pain and his hurt into your soul, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

"I fucked up," he breathed, his voice raw and choked with misery, "I fucked up out there, babe...I let Dwayne down...I let y'all down. I lost the title and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what? Over thirteen hundred days as champion?" you countered, "Nine WrestleMania main events? Billions of dollars in revenue? A roof over your child's head and three square meals a day? One loss will never wipe any of that away, don't ever get it twisted."

He exhaled tiredly as he hugged you tighter, resting his head on your shoulder. "I really wish I felt that way right now," he mumbled.

"It'll take some time, but you will," you asserted, running his fingers through his loose hair before tugging it lightly, making him look at you again. "Roman, you changed the industry, just like you said you would when we started this. No one will ever, ever forget what you've done these past four years. Be proud of all of it. You've been through so much, you sacrificed too much to not be proud."

Roman nodded in understanding. He just wished he didn't feel so down. "Baby, I...I want you to know how sorry I am. I know how much you wanted this. And I've been such a dick to you lately-"

You kissed your teeth and waved his apology away. "Nah. That don't matter no more. And I don't care that you didn't win. All I care about is you being safe when you're out there. Being healthy for our family and our daughter, who will be very happy to have her Daddy home, by the way. So we took an L. Okay, we'll only come back stronger. We had one bad night. Guess what? I plan on giving you a better morning, if you know what I mean." You rounded off your words with a wink, your heart blooming when he chuckled in response. "See, there's that smile I love so much. Keep your head up, baby. You did so good tonight. I couldn't be more proud of you."

Roman leaned into you, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in and filling his head with your scent. It was like breathing fresh air. “I love you, Y/N. I love you with all of my heart. I don’t deserve you, I never have.”

The tears you'd been fighting all night resurfaced, but you blinked them away as you captured his lips with yours, your hand sliding over the back of his neck. He clung to you, a different emotion quickly overtaking him as he returned your kiss with a bit of aggression, his tongue whipping hungrily against yours, savoring your mouth as though he was tasting it for the very first time. You surrendered to his every whim, your other hand raking through his hair then caressing gently down to his chest, resting your palm over the spot where his heart pumped for you. You could feel how much he needed this moment of intimacy, and you had no qualms giving him anything he asked for.

With one quick tug of your legs, Roman had you straddling him on the couch, bringing you chest to chest with your lush backside resting on his growing bulge. He paused for a moment to take a deep breath, then sealed your mouths again, his tongue invading, probing, a moan rumbling in his chest when you matched his energy, the emotions take over this loving embrace. He could never get enough of you, of the passion that overwhelmed him by your mere presence, immersing him in a love and gratitude he would always feel for you no matter what state of mind he was in.

Eventually, you pulled away from each other, breathless, panting, lips glistening with each other’s saliva. His heart raced at the familiar gleam in your darkened eyes. You weren’t done with him, not just yet, and this was confirmed as you slowly slid off him and sank to your knees between his spread thighs, pushing the front of his shirt up to expose his newly honed six-pack abs.

“Do you know how fucking hot you looked tonight, Daddy?” you purred to him, leaning in to run your tongue over the ridges of muscle on his taut belly. “Last night? All week? Do you have any idea of all the nasty shit I’m gonna do to you on the bus?”

Roman’s dick jumped in his joggers as his imagination ran wild. He squirmed in his seat, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as your tongue lapped at his belly, your mouth warm on his skin, all while you rubbed the fullness of his bulge straining eagerly against your touch. “Baby girl…” he choked out, as your fingers peeled the waistband of his pants, unveiling his big, beautiful brown dick.

“Hmm, commando. I like it,” you commented with a smirk, curling your fist around his turgid length.

“Babe, wait…ain’t Paul outside?”

“I sent him home. Plus, won't be the first time he's seen me suck you off.” Your small hand massaged his blunt, plum-shaped head as you licked a trail along the underside of his dick, enjoying the gasps of pleasure that he made. Licking up the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip, your mouth opened wider to take him in. He stared you down with an intense look in his dark irises, which soon fluttered shut as your lips wrapped tight around his flesh, his stomach tensing as he felt himself slide deeper inside. “Awww, fuuuck,” he moaned.

Pulling back for a second, you held his lust-filled stare and stroked his dick a little harder, giggling when it twitched in your grip. A defiant look clouded your eyes as you licked at his tip before pushing him back into your mouth. It was enough for him to nut by just watching you, the visual of your lips sliding slowly up and down his length, that sexy mouth of yours making sweet love to his dick. It felt so good that he sank further into the plush leather of the couch, his head rolling back lazily against the headrest, his toes curling inside his brand new Air Reigns sneakers. All the pain and punishment his body had endured tonight melted away and was replaced with much more pleasurable sensations.

“I love the way you suck my dick, wifey,” he praised you, forcing himself to observe you through his barely open eyelids. “Mmm, that slutty little mouth is warm as fuck…You so sexy, baby, keep lookin’ up at me like that...”

His raspy growls had you glancing back up at him, batting your pretty eyelashes as you sucked him off. Wetness pooled between your thighs at his famished expression. Completely aroused, you picked up the pace as your hands and your mouth worked in tandem, sucking and stroking his dick, pleasuring him from tip to base. His breathing became heavier as he throbbed against your tongue, his hands finding the back of your head as he got lost in the paradise of your warm, wet mouth.

“Damn, baby. I bet that pussy leakin’ for me right now. You gettin’ wet sucking Daddy off, beautiful?” he taunted, his tongue swishing over his bottom lip at the same time your tongue swirled around the base of his shaft. The little moan that escaped your throat told him he was right. Of course he was; he knew his wife better than anybody else. “Good girl. Keep goin', I want that pussy extra wet. I’ma lick all that shit up when we get on the bus.”

With another soft moan, you crawled closer to his body and bore down on him, bobbing your head up and down that long, fat cock. Scooping your hair up into his large fist for leverage, Roman rocked his hips upwards from his seated position, thrusting in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat to take him deeper, moaning around his dick and letting him know how much you were enjoying him fucking your face. You rolled his balls in your hand, caressing the heavy, tightened sac to send him over the edge. It was working, as he began thrusting faster, his husky groans of pleasure amplifying as he neared his release.

“Unnnhh, baby, here it comes…Fuck, open your mouth,” he gasped, not waiting for you to do so as he yanked you by your hair to free himself from your intoxicating mouth. You quickly opened wide as he grabbed his cock and jerked it desperately against your tongue. He caught sight of the glazed-over quality of your gaze, and he knew that your panties were completely ruined, your pussy dripping with your need for him. He planned to take care of that very soon.

It was a show more spectacular than Mania, the sight of his gorgeous face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the heavens as his orgasm washed over his big body. Your moans harmonized together with each spasm of his cum down your throat, making you swallow every drop he unleashed. His grip on your hair was tight and almost painful, but you were turned on anyway, aroused by the knowledge that no one brought him to this state of paramount pleasure like you did. Licking your lips, you scooped him back into your mouth to clean him up, released him with a soft pop when you finished, and tucked him back inside the confines of his joggers. You giggled as he stared dazedly at the ceiling, licking his lips to catch his breath, his big frame slack and helpless as he recovered from the intense orgasm.

"Goddamn, baby...Shit," he groaned.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stood up and sat back on his lap, welcoming the gentle press of his mouth to yours in a sweet, grateful kiss. “You feel better, Daddy?” you asked.

"Much better. I needed that so much. Thanks, baby," he smiled up at you, his stomach doing flips as you smiled back. He truly was the luckiest man in the world.

“Mm-hmm. Luckily, there’s more where that came from,” you assured him with another kiss before getting to your feet and pulling him up to his. “Come on, Daddy. Let's go home. We got a toddler to take care of. We'll figure out all the other stuff when it's time."

He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand. “Okay, baby. Home it is.”

A new chapter in your story had been opened tonight, and the path ahead seemed uncertain and even scary. But you both took pride in the fact that as long as you kept writing it together, your love story was going to remain as beautiful as it already was.

But make no mistake about it; Roman Reigns was going to rule the wrestling world again. That was one story that was never going to end.

THE END

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

Thoughts? How sappy was this😢Was quite cathartic for me, loved writing it.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

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#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #the bloodline #wrestlemania #wrestlemania 40 #power couple #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black reader #the tribal chief

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joeliz99 · 10 months ago

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Getting the Falcon Role- Danny Ramirez

Description: Danny gets exciting news regarding his career and the first person he delivers it is his wife.

Warnings: None, Pure fluff

—————————————————————

“I made you some breakfast so you can take it with you. Try to eat something before the audition,” I say, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching Danny focus on his reflection in the mirror.

A few seconds pass in silence. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he struggles to get his hair just right. I step closer, reaching out to smooth the back of his head, and press a light kiss where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You’re going to do great… Don’t stress about it. They’ve worked with you before, and they know how talented you are,” I reassure him softly.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies, his voice coming out almost too cockily, with a hint of bravado that doesn’t quite mask his underlying anxiety.

I catch his eye in the mirror, giving him a teasing look. It only takes a moment for him to notice and turn to face me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so nervous I could shit my pants right now. I don’t even know what I’m doing with this,” he says, gesturing vaguely to his hair. I raise an eyebrow—he looks perfectly fine to me.

“Alright, sit down. I’ll handle it for you,” I offer.

He sits obediently, allowing me to stand between his legs to get a better angle on his damp hair.

“Just don’t use too much product, okay? I want it to look natural,” he murmurs.

“I’ve got it,” I assure him. A couple of minutes pass in silence before he speaks again.

“Babe, I don’t want it to look too neat. Don’t overdo it,” he insists, his nerves peeking through.

“I’m not overdoing it. Just relax,” I reply calmly.

Another couple of minutes pass before he interrupts again.

“Can I see? I just want to—”

“Danny! Can you please let me finish?” I interject, laughing. “I’m literally two curls away from being done. Chill! I’ve done this a thousand times.”

That’s enough to silence him, though I can tell it takes some effort. When I finally step back and let him see the finished result, he breaks into a reluctant smile, realizing he has no complaints.

Ten minutes later, he’s ready to leave, having spritzed on some cologne and put on his wedding ring along with the two chains he always wears.

He doesn't want to eat, but he won’t refuse the breakfast I made, even if I know he won’t touch it until after the audition.

Before he leaves, we say a quick prayer—something he’s grown accustomed to over the six years we’ve been together.

I pull him into a tight hug, wishing him all the luck in the world, then rise on my tiptoes to give him a few light kisses. He thanks me, still holding me close, and before stepping back, he gives me one more kiss, deeper and more lingering.

“I’ll let you know how it goes. I love you,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I love you, too,” I respond with a smile as I walk him to the door, watching him until he disappears into the elevator.

Hours later, we speak on the phone. His voice is noticeably more relaxed and cheerful than it was this morning.

“I think I’ve got a good chance. They had a lot of positive things to say, you know? And Sam told me the role is pretty much mine. But I don’t know… I don’t want to get my hopes up. Or maybe just a little,” he says, grinning at me through the phone camera. I can’t help but smile back.

“I mean, if Sam said it, why wouldn’t we believe him, right?” I reply encouragingly.

“But we could just be delulu right now. Sam loves me. That’s definitely something he’d say,” Danny laughs.

“Who cares? Let’s be delulu, then. Nobody can play that role better than you.”

_________________

Time passes by and Danny keeps working harder every single day. New projects keep coming his way, and he is profoundly grateful for every opportunity. After so many years of navigating an industry with limited roles for Latinx actors, this is a major breakthrough.

Nearly four months after the audition, he finally receives the news he had been waiting for during a meeting with the production team and his agent.

As soon as Danny steps out of the building, a surge of adrenaline pushes him forward. He sprints down the bulding, his heart pounding in sync with his racing thoughts. He hardly notices the people he weaves through, the city blurring around him as he focuses solely on getting home. When he reaches our front door, he bursts through with such force that the door almost bangs against the wall. His bag slips from his shoulder and thuds to the floor, forgotten in his excitement.

“(Y/N)! Baby, where are you?!” he calls out, his voice carrying a mix of exhilaration and urgency.

I don’t hear him at first. I’m in the studio, headphones on, fully immersed in the process of layering tracks, the bass reverberating through me. It’s only when I catch a faint sound through the music—a distant, frantic shout—that I pause, lifting one earphone.

He bursts into the office/studio, his face flushed, eyes bright with an intensity I haven’t seen in a while. I swivel around in my chair, startled by his sudden entrance.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” I ask, concern flickering in my eyes as I take in his breathless state. Before I can react, he scoops me up from my chair, lifting me off the ground with an unexpected burst of strength. I gasp, caught off guard, my hands instinctively clutching his shoulders.

“I got the part! They just told me! I’m going to be the Falcon, (Y/N)!” he exclaims, his voice a mix of disbelief and euphoria, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Wait, what?” I blink, trying to process what he’s just said. My eyes widen as his words sink in. “You got it?! Shut up!”

“I got it, baby!” he shouts again, his joy utterly infectious. A laugh bursts out of me—a mixture of relief, pride, and sheer happiness—as I wrap my legs around his waist. I pull his face down to mine, capturing his lips in a quick, jubilant kiss.

“I knew it! I told you you’d get it!” I whisper breathlessly against his lips, my fingers running through his hair. “There’s no one better for the role than you. You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

He grins so wide it lights up his entire face, his eyes glistening with emotion. He presses his forehead against mine, letting out a shaky breath before leaving a tender kiss on the tip of my nose.

“I still can’t believe it,” he says, his voice softer now, as if speaking any louder would shatter the moment. “This is such a big deal. I have to call Mom, Glen, Paola...” He starts listing names, his excitement bubbling over.

“Do you want to make a list?” I tease, a laugh escaping me as I watch him roll his eyes playfully, still wearing that incredible smile. “Call them. They’ll be over the moon.”

“Yeah, I’m going to do that. I can’t wait to see Glenn’s reaction.” He chuckles, heading towards the door but stops mid-step, spinning around again.

“Oh, and Sam wants to celebrate tonight with some of the team. Maybe go out for drinks or dinner. You’ll come, right?”

“Absolutely,” I reply, my smile mirroring his. “I should be done with work in a couple of hours, and then I’m all yours.”

“Okay.” He smiles again and as he reaches the door; his body turns around and walks back to where I still stand, wrapping his arms around me one more time. His voice softens, “Thank you for being my rock through all of this. I really appreciate all your support.”

I hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his words. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Te amo (I love you)."

“Yo también te amo (I love you too),” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

He finally leaves to go tell the others, and I watch him go with my heart still full of excitement for what this meant for him.

Still wanting to read more? Here are some other Danny's shots to read. You're welcome!!!!

#danny ramirez #danny ramirez gif pack #fanboy #the falcon #danny ramirez x (y/n)#Danny Ramirez fic #danny ramirez x you #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #fanboy x reader

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mavrintarou · 2 years ago

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[1:56 PM] Suna Rintarou

Warning: mild angst, fluff and smut .

You glared at your best friend Hana as she zipped up the tent, her face disappeared on the other side as she mouthed sorry.

She was not sorry, you knew Osamu and Hana set you up.

You kicked your feet as you made your way to your tent a few feet away. You took a deep breath before entering. Inside your tent is Suna Rintarou, your ex-boyfriend who is drunk and out cold. He was sprawled on your twin-size airbed that you had packed. Good thing you had not rolled out your sleeping bag that was still rolled up on at the corner.

Sighing you zipped close the tent door to prevent any bugs from entering. You dimmed your lantern low and hooked it so you could make your way to the person you dreaded and ignored all night.

If you had known he was going to come, you would not have agreed to the trip even though the trip was supposed to be a couple’s trip. After your break up, Rin backed out, saying he wouldn’t go anymore, leaving it up to you if you wanted to go. Since you already paid and prepared, you decided to be the third wheel. He showed up at the last minute and unexpectedly a few hours later with nothing. He brought no gears at all.

Osamu agreed that he and Rin could share a tent and Hana and you could share yours. At the end of the night, the two men got completely wasted. Osamu went to his tent to ‘change’ and never came back. Hana found him knocked out cold.

Rin was snoring away in the camping chair and passed out.

“Can’t I just leave him out here?” The fire was still hot, it would keep him warm.

Hana was not pleased with your question.

“Can’t we just bring him into your tent and he can sleep with Osamu?”

Hana shook her head, “you know Osamu, he gets clingy and becomes a baby in the morning when his hangover hits him.”

“Then… can’t you just sleep with the two of them?”

The deadly look in Hana’s eyes made you give in.

You ended up dragging Rin to your tent.

You sighed and began changing, even though you two dated for two years and seen each other, you still felt conscience changing in front of him even if he was dead asleep.

“Y/n?”

You quickly pulled our shirt down and spun around, seeing Rin sitting up and blinking at you.

“I thought I was sleeping with Osamu?”

“Yeah I thought so too but your friends abandoned you with me. You are more than welcome to go stay with them now that you’re awake.” You took a deep breath, trying to push away your irritation. “You can sleep on the air bed, there’s a blanket right there and the pillow.” If it wasn’t for the fact that you were aware that he was being treated for shoulder pain, you would have forced him to sleep on the ground.

“What about you?”

You pointed to your rolled up sleeping bag, “I’ll take the sleeping bag.”

“Let’s share.”

It wasn’t even a question.

“No.”

“The floor is hard,” he touched the ground as if to prove his point.

“Then you can sleep in the sleeping bag,” you offered.

“It’ll hurt my back.” He grabbed the pillow and blanket, “there is only a blanket and pillow, you won’t have one if I take it.”

“Maybe you should have brought your own gear, Rintarou?”

“I didn’t think I was going to come,” he replied nonchalantly, “it’s just sharing a sleeping bag and pillow on an air bed.” He said it as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“No.”

“We’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, when we were dating.”

He stared at you before raising his hands in the air in defeat. “Fine, take the floor then.”

You tossed and turned, unable to fully fall into a deep slumber even though you were exhausted. Your conscience kept reminding you that your ex-boyfriend was sleeping right next to you.

You don’t know why you were making it a big deal but you couldn’t help but create this awkward tension between you two.

“Y/n?”

You couldn’t distinguish if it was real or a dream, so you continued to keep sleeping.

“Y/n?”

You groaned, finally feeling yourself slip into sleep when he whispered your name. “Hmm?”

“I’m cold.”

You weren’t sure if you were hearing things or if he was really talking to you.

“I’m cold, Y/n.”

“Me too.” You mumbled incoherently, slipping into sleep-land.

“You are?”

“No…”

“What?”

“… what?”

“Are you cold?” he asked, you could feel his finger tapping your nose.

You brushed his finger away, turning to snuggle deeper into the sleeping bag, “yeah…”

The math was not adding up in your head. You had no idea how your sleeping bag that was on the ground was now on the air bed. What really did not add up, was how you and Rin were both crammed into one sleeping bag.

His arms wrapped securely around you, legs tangled with yours in the narrow sleeping bag. He slept on the side where the zipper was making it hard for you to sneak out without waking him up.

“It’s only 5, go back to sleep,” a husky voice murmured.

You looked up, Rin still had his eyes closed. “How do you know?”

“I checked ten minutes ago.”

You remained silent, just staring at his sleeping face, or pretend sleeping face. Rintarou was truly a handsome beast. His piercing emerald eyes captivated you from the very first moment, yet it was his charmingly wide grin that effortlessly captured your affection – your heart and he continues to possess it to this day.

The relationship fallout wasn’t solely due to a lack of communication but rather a lack of understanding. Both of you were expressing your frustration and needs, but neither was truly grasping the other’s perspective. This led to constant arguments where you talked past each other instead of finding a common ground.

Rintarou wanted quiet relaxing time at home after spending more than ten hours at the gym while you wanted to explore and be out after working a whole day at home.

A single disagreement ignited a series of arguments, gradually widening the gap between you. Eventually, both of you came to the difficult realization that parting ways would be the most suitable decision.

“Do you miss me?” He opened his eyes, his green eyes piercing into yours.

You looked away, clearing your throat. “What do you think?” Of course, you missed him, like crazy.

“It’s a yes or no question, Y/n.”

You divert your gaze to his Adam’s apple. It bobbed as he probably swallowed the lump in his throat waiting for your response. You nodded your head.

Your chin was tilted until your eyes met his, “use your voice, did you miss me?”

“Yes,” you mumbled quietly. The nine weeks he was absent felt agonizing, with not a single day or night passing without thoughts of him crossing your mind. His hoodie which you had taken before the breakup became your sleeping companion, and the teddy bear he gave you on your first anniversary provided you solace as you held it every night.

“I missed you too, like a fucken maniac,” he pressed his forehead against yours. “Can we give it another try?” His voice cracked, his gaze locked onto you with eyes shimmering with emotions. “Make as many attempts as it takes, as long as we don’t part ways? Hmm?”

“Yes, please, let us try again,” you tighten your arm around his waist. “I missed you like a depressing maniac.”

His chuckle warmed your heart and you are determined to hear it for the rest of your life.

You snuggle against his chest, inhaling his scent. The scent on his hoodie was beginning to fade.

The sentimental moment is suddenly ruined when you feel something jabbing into your lower tummy. You looked up at Rin, “seriously?”

“You keep rubbing against me!”

“Shh!”

His arms tightened around you, holding you still, “it misses you…”

You shook your head, containing your fit of giggle. “You’re unbelievable.” You free yourself from his hold and lift yourself onto your elbow, “do you think they’ll hear us?”

Rin’s eyes grew wide, and he asked incredulously, “are you being serious?”

You push him onto his back and swing your leg over his body. You push your sweatpants and panties off and undo the buttons to his jeans. “Can’t believe you didn’t bring any other clothing.”

Rin hummed, probably not even listening to you as you freed his cock out from his boxer. You stroke his long, lean, and pretty cock with one hand. “I don’t suppose you have a condom with you?” His eyes finally met yours and he shook his head. “I’ll make an exception this one time,” you lift your hips and align his cock against your pussy, “I’ll let you cum inside of me.”

You cover your mouth as you lowered yourself onto his cock, muffling your moans. You are reminded that you are outdoors with Hana and Osamu’s tent less than twenty feet away. Your hips rocked slowly before Rin intertwine your fingers together, giving you leverage to bounce on his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, “I miss you… you feel so good…” he tugged you until you pressed against his chest. He thrusts up into you, you slap your hand over your mouth to contain your moan. “I missed you so much,” he murmured against your ear, “I love you so much and I never want to be without you again.”

“I know – I know, Rin,” you whispered back, his hips hitting yours was beginning to echo. “Rin, not too fast… they might hear us…”

“Fuck them…” he chuckled, “this is make-up sex, and if they don’t – “

“Yes! Yes, Osamu!” You and Rin froze, as Hana’s voice could be heard loud and clear. “Just like that… oh! Harder!”

You both covered your mouth, laughing quietly.

“Well,” Rin kisses your neck, “glad we aren’t the only ones.”

You look down at him, whispering, “I love you so much too.” Your lips pressed against his in a soft kiss, and you rocked your hips, meeting his thrusts.

Rin’s movement suddenly stopped as he rolled you over onto your back. “I have to admit I was not expecting outdoor sex but I’m not complaining. I can’t wait to go home, this air bed hurt my back,” he rocked his hips slowly, pressing his forehead against yours, his hand reaching to intertwine your fingers together. “I made an assumption but…” he paused, catching his breath, “you’ll go home with me, right?”

You nod your head, “yes… I want to go home with you.” He was close just like you, his hips fastened and his thrusts became deeper until his last thrust. Your soft whimper is kissed away against his mouth as he cums inside of you.

“So, did it work?” You look at Hana confused, and she gives you an obvious look. “Us having sex, did it make you guys want to have make-up sex?”

. . .

E/n: Quick whip up cause the idea came unexpectedly lol

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna angst #suna rintarou angast #suna rinatou x y/n #suna fluff #osamu miya

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teapartyprincess4two · 1 year ago

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Corner Store - C. Sturniolo

pairing: Employee!reader x Coworker!Chris

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, slow build up & slight cursing

summary: Chris is your annoying coworker who always manages to make your shifts a little more miserable than necessary, but it turns out he has a misunderstood crush on you.

—

“That’ll be $10.32,” you say, scanning the last item and looking towards the customer awaiting their form of payment. Your shift seemed to drag on, you had already been here 6 hours and still had 1 more to go before your shift was over. Not like you would be able to leave right away anyways, you always had to wait until the next person scheduled arrived to relieve you. When you checked to see who was scheduled after you, you noticed that Chris, one of the few other people who worked here, was scheduled today. Chris was always late.

You watched as the customer in front of you dug through her purse, struggling to find the correct amount of change. “I swear I have the 32 cents,” she mumbled, fishing around for the loose coins scattered at the bottom of her bag. Your fingers tapped against the counter impatiently as you watched her. How had you gotten yourself stuck in this dead end job?

“Here,” she says, finally finding the correct amount of change. She hands you a quarter, a nickel, and two pennies. She waited for you to cash her out, not realizing that she had yet to hand you the ten dollars. “Hello?! I need the receipt,” her voice holds an impatient tone as her hands point towards the receipt machine aggressively. You sigh, knowing that this interaction could go south quickly if you didn’t choose your next words wisely.

You wanted to reply with, ‘Hello?! I need the ten dollars,’ but your shift was almost over and there was no reason to pick a fight now. “I still need the ten dollars, ma’am,” you replied, using your customer service voice at its fullest potential. She facepalmed, realizing her mistake before responding, “Oops! You’re right, sweetie.” Her hands returned into her purse, this time pulling her wallet out and handing you a ten dollar bill. Without a word you take it from her and cash her out, making sure to hand her the stupid receipt. “Keep the change,” she jokes. The joke feels like a slap to the face, there was no change. There was never change. You wanted to bang your head against the wall.

“Have a good day,” you say, chuckling a bit at her sarcastic joke and offering her a fake smile. She walks out with all her items in hand, the ring of the doorbell letting you know the coast is clear. Once she’s gone you slump back into your stool, pulling your phone out to check the time. 30 more minutes and you’d be free.

You’re about to turn your phone off when you notice a text from your coworker Chris.

Chris (WORK): hey you think you can cover for me? I’m running late lol. I’ll be there in like 30 minutes :p

You were fulling expecting him to be late, but 30 extra minutes sounded like actual hell. You groan, running your hands through your hair in annoyance before replying.

y/n: really bruh :|

Why was it so hard for him to get to work on time? He didn’t even live far, you had dropped him off a few times on the rare occasion you were scheduled to work the same shift and he didn’t have a ride. He lived like a full 5 minutes away, 10 minutes if he walked. The text bubbles would disappear and reappear, indicating that he was typing up his response.

Chris (WORK): sorry, I’m waiting for my brother to pick me up. he’s my ride

Another groan of annoyance escapes your lips, annoyed at the fact that a grown man was still relying on others for transportation. The haunting sound of the doorbell rings again suddenly and catches your attention. A couple had just walked in hand in hand. “Hello!” You greeted them quickly using your standard go-to customer service voice as you watched them disappear to the back of the store. You hated greeting the customers, they always ignored you.

y/n: you always do this bro. you could literally still get here on time if you started walking right now

The customers in the back of the store were laughing loudly, causing you to once again look away from your phone and in their direction. They were horse-playing, pushing and pulling each other playfully around the store. As cute as it was, you could only think about them possibly tipping something over and making a mess. The last thing you needed right now was a big mess to clean up.

Chris (WORK): that’s not true.

Chris (WORK): and nah I’ll just wait for Matt to take me

You didn’t even bother replying to his last message because no matter what you said he would still be late either way. A loud crash echoes from the back of the store, the couple gasping right after. You sit up from your stool and tiptoe, trying to see what they dropped. ‘Hopefully they didn’t break anything,’ you thought, but you knew they had. Before you could examine the situation, the couple was running out of the store giggling and laughing.

When you walked over to where they previously were you saw it, an entire 6-pack of Coors Light busted on the floor. You wanted to scream, the only thoughts running through your mind being about how much you hated this job. Somehow this all felt like Chris’s fault because his shift started in five minutes and if you weren’t so busy texting him back you might’ve caught the couple in time to warn them to stop.

“Stupid Chris,” you whispered in annoyance as you bent down to pick the beer cans up. The beer dripped down your arm and onto the floor as you rushed it over to the trash can. You really, really hated this job right now.

—

By the time Chris finally arrived it was well over 45 minutes since your shift was meant to end. You were still cleaning up the mess from before, using bleach and the dirty mop from the supply closet to try and remove as much of the sticky residue as possible.

Chris rushed inside, buttoning up his uniform shirt in the process. Once inside he immediately looked around, trying to find you to let you know he was there and you could leave. “Y/n, where you at?” He called through the store, peering easily over the shelves as he tried to find you. But because you were hunched over scrubbing as hard as possible to clean up the liquid mess on the floor, he couldn’t see you.

He walked down the aisles, picking up a bag of chips on the way. He opened the bag, popping a chip in his mouth as he continued to the back of the store. When he found you, he didn’t even comment on what you were doing, instead letting you know that you were free to go, “hey thanks bro, you’re good to go.” You stood up straight with the mop in your right hand and the bleach bottle in the other as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

A chip fell from his mouth, landing on the floor. This irked you even more. Not only was he 45 minutes late, but now he was actively adding to the mess you were trying to clean up. “Here,” you say sternly, shoving the mop and bleach spray towards him and snatching the bag of chips he was holding.

“Hey! I was eating those!” He exclaims, attempting to grab them back from you. “Bye Chris,” you reply, already beginning to walk off, eating a chip in the process. You quickly learned that you didn’t even like this chip flavor, but you couldn’t stand looking at Chris’s face right now so you took them simply to mess with him. “Wait! You didn’t finish cleaning this up!” He called back, looking between you and the mess on the floor. The mop felt so foreign in his hands, he never mopped. You or one of your other coworkers always did that, but never Chris.

“I’m good to go!” You replied, quoting his own words as you pushed the front door and walked out, the doorbell ringing in the process. You threw the bag of chips away on the way to your car. Now it was Chris’s turn to be haunted by the doorbell.

—

The next day you were off so you decided to focus your energy on studying and binge watching your favorite tv shows. You had a few exams coming up so you made a mental note to specifically study for those. You hadn’t even reached the end of the first day when you received a call from Chris.

You debated on whether or not you should answer it, knowing it had to be a work related call. ‘Someone probably called in,’ you thought. You weighed out the pros and cons quickly in your head. ‘Pros? I answer this call and get more hours. More hours equals more money,’ you thought. On the other hand, the cons were never ending. ‘Cons? everything.’

After letting it ring five times, you picked up the phone and placed it on your ear, “Hello?” You could faintly hear the hum of the convenience store refrigerators in the background along with loud chewing. Chris was definitely eating yet another snack. “Y/n, Marcus called in again. Do you think you can come in?” Chris asks, getting straight to the point.

Why was everyone at your job so unreliable? “Umm I don’t know, I’m pretty busy right now,” you replied, staring at the exam notes sprawled out in front of you on your bed. “You don’t sound busy,” he said sassily and followed it with loud crinkling noises as he tried reaching the chip at the bottom of the bag. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You sounded offended but Chris didn’t notice. He mostly wanted you to come in so he wouldn’t have to get through this shift alone. Of course he could’ve called someone else to come in, but for whatever reason he found himself calling you.

Today was Friday and although your store was generally slow, Fridays tended to pick up around 5pm when everyone was either getting off work or picking their kids up from school. “It means that you don’t sound busy,” he replied again, still crinkling his chip bag. His fingers were so greasy at this point that he kept missing the last chip every time he almost had it.

“I mean, what are you even doing right now? Studying?” He asked again. It was a rhetorical question, but the answer was yes. A loud crunch was heard through the speaker, he finally found that one straggling chip and was now incessantly chewing on it. ‘Lucky guess,’ you thought as you began piling all your notes together in embarrassment. “I’ll be there in 20,” you replied, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation.

“You’re studying aren’t you,” he chuckles, crumpling the chip bag, creating a make-shift basketball. He sits in the stool, shifting his body in the direction of the trash can that sat in the corner so he could throw his bag away. “Shut up,” you grumble, getting up from your bed to start getting ready.

“KOBE!” He shouts, throwing the bag in the direction of the trash can with a swift flick of his wrist. He missed terribly and the bag hit the floor with a soft thud.

—

You arrive to work 20 minutes later, mentally preparing yourself for the long 8 hour shift ahead of you. When you walked inside you noticed Chris had a long line of customers forming, all of them holding a multitude of items. Dread filled your body as you realized that you actually had to work and couldn’t just sit there as you waited for your shift to end.

You made your way behind the counter and situated yourself to the right of Chris, motioning for the next customer in line towards your register. “I can help who’s next in line,” you said loudly. The next customer quickly shuffled over to you, dumping all their things on the counter for you to scan.

The rush doesn’t last long, both you and Chris checking customers out quickly and efficiently in order to get them out the door as fast as possible. “Thanks for coming in,” Chris finally says, watching as you grab a box of candy from under the counter. The box is heavy, causing you to heave slightly when you pick it up. Chris notices this and quickly sits up off his stool to help you with the box. “Yeah, it’s whatever,” you reply nonchalantly, allowing him to help you pick the box up.

He’s now holding the box with ease before inquiring what your intentions with this box of candy were, “you gonna stock up?” You hum in response, ready to take the box back from him so you could begin stocking up the now bare candy shelves around the store. He notices this and offers to help carry it around for you. It was the least he could do after calling you in on your day off. “I got it,” he says, adjusting his arms so the box is comfortable enough to carry around.

“Thanks,” your reply is simple, they always were. Chris had never been able to break through to you on a personal level. Throughout your shifts you would always make small talk to pass the time and he was able to learn small details about your life, but he was never was able to learn anything truly personal about you. On one occasion, for example, he learned that you were working here to pay for your school, but he never learned what you were going to school for. Another time he also learned that you had a dog, but you never told him its name.

All your other coworkers had opened up to him with ease, sharing personal details about their life and even trauma dumping a few times. He wondered why you were always so distant. He wanted to get to know you better, but he didn’t know how.

Chris follows behind you as you stock up the shelves, watching as you organize the rows neatly before moving on to the next. He catches sight of a package of Twizzlers, deciding he was going to use this as his talking point. “These are my favorite candies,” he comments, handing you the package so you can organize it onto the shelf. You don’t even respond, you just continue working like some type of task bot.

He sighs quietly, wondering if he should’ve asked someone else to come in for Marcus. Chris wants to give up, but he decided to try again, “What’s your favorite candy, y/n?” The question causes you to pause. ‘If I wanted to be quizzed, I would’ve stayed home to study,’ you thought, already wishing that these next 8 hours would just be over.

“Um… I don’t know? M&M’s are okay, I guess,” you respond, providing him with a half-ass answer in hopes that he’ll take the hint and stop asking questions. He doesn’t.

“What color M&M is your favorite?” He asks, thinking about the different M&M characters from the commercials. “I don’t know, they all taste the same to me,” you quipped back, trying to focus on neatly organizing the shelves in front of you. He was still trudging behind you and although the box he was holding became lighter with each candy you removed, it was still heavy. He adjusted the box again and pulled it up higher against his chest.

“No, I meant like the characters,” he laughs, his mind replaying all those funny commercials where the M&M’s are getting into trouble. You were silent, seemingly confused with whatever he was talking about. “You know! From the commercials!” He sounds excited, hoping that you know what he’s talking about so he doesn’t sound like an idiot. You don’t remember but decide to just go along with him for the sake of your own sanity, “oh yeah, the red one was pretty cool.”

He scoffs at this response, pretending to act offended, “the orange one was clearly the best.” You chuckle at this and it instantly puts a smile on his face. Finally he was getting somewhere with you.

Chris would be lying if he said he didn’t find you pretty. You were the prettiest girl who worked here, which really wasn’t saying much considering the only other woman who worked here was a 65 year old named Gladys, but he’d been around town and he could never find a single girl hotter than you. So, yes, he’d sneak a few glances your way here and there and was always excited to come into work when you were scheduled. Sometimes he would even come in on his days off to buy a soda for an excuse to see you.

You found Chris attractive too, but you mostly found him annoying. He had a pretty terrible work ethic and every time you worked with him it felt like you were stuck doing all the hard labor. Not to mention the fact that he was always running late, forcing you to cover for him until he arrived. Plus he was always snacking on something and leaving his crumbs all over the place for you to clean. Despite all this, he did have his few good moments. Like right now when he’s helping you carry the heaviest box in the store.

“I knew I could make you laugh,” he comments, handing you the last package of candy in the box. You roll your eyes at his comment before responding, “it doesn’t take much to make me laugh, kid.” Your comment was meant to push his buttons, but he didn’t mind the challenge. “Is that a challenge?” He asks, a small smirk growing on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. This earns him another eye roll from you.

“I’d like to see you try,” you respond with a cheeky smile as you take the empty box from him so you can throw it away. Chris watches as you walk away, feeling absolute smitten by you and confident in his skills to make you laugh at least one more time in the next eight hours.

‘This is going to be fun,’ he thought.

—

Chris spends the next 8 hours of your shift trying to make you laugh. He tells bad jokes, pulls silly faces, and even does stupid little dances all in an attempt to see you smile. You laughed at his first joke, but it was quiet enough for him to miss it. You were grateful for that because it egged him on.

“C’mon y/n! Just one little laugh, one giggle, a chuckle even,” he pleads, walking closer to you from behind the counter. You shake your head playfully as you sit back in your stool and face him. He inches closer once again as his mind comes up with the perfect plan of action to get you to laugh,, “what if I do this!”

He pounces on you, using his fingers to poke at your sides as he tickles you. Immediately you burst into a fit of laughter as you attempt to push his hands away, but he uses his strength to keep them in place. “Chris! Stop!” you say in between laughter. He has the biggest smile on his face because he finally got to hear you laugh after so many failed attempts.

Chris continues to tickle you, failing to notice how your body is beginning to slide off the stool. Before he knows it, you’re leaning backwards and heading straight for the floor beneath you. You shriek at the feeling and reach forward to latch yourself onto Chris’s arms to prevent yourself from falling. He immediately stops tickling you and grabs you firmly by the waist, catching you before you can slip off the chair completely.

At this point his forehead is flush against yours, both your eyes locked in a heated stare as your breath fans against his lips. You tried catching your breath, both from the laughing and from the scare you’d just gotten. The moment feels so intense and intimate, all Chris can think about is how easy it would be to kiss you.

‘Fuck it,’ he thinks as he closes his eyes, ready to lean forward and capture your lips in his before he can psych himself out. You do the same, too lost in the moment to realize that you were about to kiss Chris, your coworker who you found annoying up until a few hours ago. Before your lips can meet, the sound of the doorbell rings through the store causing you to break away as quickly as possible.

You both look towards the front door, fully expecting a customer to be standing there but you’re met with nothing. It was just the wind from outside, it had pushed the door open slightly and triggered the doorbell.

Both of you cough awkwardly, deciding to avoid each other for the rest of your shift.

—

Finally, your shift is over. You and Chris worked together silently to close the store up and restock any bare shelves. Once you grab your things you prepare to walk outside and over to your car. Chris was outside already on the phone near the gas pumps. He was calling his brother to pick him up, but he wasn’t picking up.

When you make your way outside, you use your keys to lock the doors behind you. As you fumble with the keys you hear Chris muttering something under his breath before groaning. You turn to walk over to your car, ready to leave without Chris, but as you reach for the door handle you stop to look in his direction one last time. He’s now sitting on the curb, looking in the opposite direction of you. He’s debating in his head whether he should ask you for a ride or just walk home in the dark.

You watch as he gets up abruptly as he decides he was just going to walk home. He couldn’t bare having to sit in a car with you after what happened today. The guilt ate at you, causing you to offer him a ride. “Need a ride?” You shouted in his direction, waiting patiently for him to turn around and acknowledge you. Immediately his head turned in your direction at the question. He silently thanked God for your offer because he really didn’t want to walk home, but he was to embarrassed to ask for a ride. This also meant that you probably weren’t as upset with him as he thought you were. In reality you weren’t mad at all, but you did feel a little awkward.

He jogged over to your car, standing in front of the passenger side door awkwardly almost like he was waiting for permission to get in. “You getting in?” You asked as you opened the your car door and hopped in. “Oh. Um, yeah,” he stutters before following suit and getting in the passenger seat.

The ride to his house is silent, the only noises being the radio and the sound of the car engine. Considering he doesn’t live far, it doesn’t take long for you to arrive to his house. You pull up to the side of the street and place the car in the park, waiting for him to thank you and get out like he always does when you drive him home. He doesn’t immediately get out though, instead he sits in the passenger seat quietly as he rubs his clammy hands against his thighs to relieve some of the anxiety building up inside of him.

Chris’s mind is racing a mile a minute as he thinks of all the possibilities this night could lead to. He could get out of the car, leaving you with nothing but a simple thank you and then let your relationship return to normal. Or, he could do the unthinkable and gain an outstanding reward in return. Whatever he chose, he knew he’d have to deal with the consequences and right now he was willing to gamble.

“You good?” You ask him as you shift in your seat to gain a better look at his face. He looks so nervous that you almost don’t recognize him because it completely contrasts his usual energetic and confident demeanor. “Yeah, I just-“ he’s struggling to find the right words, afraid to say the wrong thing and ruin it all. “You just?” You push, wanting to know what he’s getting at.

Chris sighs, taking one last pause to gather his thoughts before completely shifting towards you. His eyes pierce into yours as he searches them trying to gauge whether his next move will affect his chances at a future with you. Upon further inspection, he decides to just do it.

“I just-” he begins to say but cuts himself off by planting his lips on yours. You’re caught by surprise at his actions, eyes widening in shock and arms falling stiff to your sides. His hands move up to your face, cupping your cheek in an attempt to get you closer, but once he realizes you’re not kissing him back he completely pulls away from you.

It took you a while to process what had just happened; Chris just kissed you! Despite your reaction, you were satisfied with the outcome of the night. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have-” he begins to apologize, but you interrupt him this time. Your lips are back on his, both your hands cupping his face to keep him as close to you as possible. A sigh of relief escapes him, his warm breath landing on your lips. He melts into your touch, placing one of his hands on yours that rested on his face. Chris tasted like candy which only made you want the kiss that much more.

Finally you two pull away from the kiss, letting go of each other slowly. He has a goofy smile on his face as he stares at you, taking in every aspect of your being. “Stop looking at me like that,” you giggle, covering your face in embarrassment.

He laughs along with you, pulling your hands away from your face before replying, “see, I told you I’d make you laugh.” You roll your eyes, moving your face closer to his once again.

“Shut up,” you whisper, kissing him for the third time that night.

—

A/n: I wrote a Matt story so yk I had to write a Chris story. Nick is next don’t worry lololol. Also, I’ve seen your requests/ anon messages and trust that I’m gonna respond to those too! Thanks for reading 🩵enjoy girlies!

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

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theoakleafpancake · 5 months ago

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I am nowhere near done with my apprentice-Gilan fic. I have no idea how long it's gonna be, I'd planned on a sort of full-length work, but not too sure if it can last that long. But here's the first chapter to it, it being The Life of a Ranger

Chapter 1

The two Rangers had gone half a dozen paces when Halt stopped and turned back. Gilan was aware of the Ranger’s gaze and shifted, uncertain of the strange man’s thoughts. “You did very well, Gilan. I owe you my life.”

Gilan flushed, fighting to keep the smile from his face. He was well aware of the King and his father watching with obvious pride; it wasn’t every day he was praised by someone highly appreciated. He started to reply, and the words were taken from him as Halt spoke again. “If you still want to be a Ranger, come and see us in a couple of years.”

He looked up, wide-eyed. Halt was deadly serious, he realized, and the grin split across his face. His father was eyeing him with obvious surprise and he mentally shrugged. There would be time enough to explain, and right now, there was simply too much to do. “I’ll do that, Halt,” he said eagerly.

- The Battle at Hackham Heath -

The clip clop of the horse’s hoofs pattered on the soft ground as the short, dark-haired Ranger traveled along the worn-down path. Gilan remained behind the tree, chewing on his lower lip as he watched. A quick glance told him that his father, Sir David of Caraway Fief, was nowhere in sight, and—thankfully—neither was his mother, Eleanor.

It was now or never. When the traveler disappeared around the corner he dashed into the house and grabbed the cloak already laid upon the messy bed, inspecting it with disdain. It looked dull and plain compared to the masterful weaving of a Ranger cloak. But it would have to do, as it was all he had. And besides, he had enough confidence to make up for the lack of material. His days spent sneaking around gave him the upper leg on most. He had more skill in silent movement than any other his age, much to the dismay of his parents.

“Time to go,” he said softly. He strapped the sword to his side and threw the cloak around his shoulders. His stomach coiled tight with nerves, and he shook his head. This was going to work, he reminded himself. It simply had to work.

He closed the door behind him. His gaze swept across the area once more before he started forward, through the house, down the stairs of the verandah and towards the stable where a soft nicker called him from the stables. He hesitated, poking his head through the opening as soft eyes met his. “Sorry boy,” he called. “I can’t take you with me this time.”

He could hear a faint voice and he looked up, his chest tightening as the tiny form in the distance began to grow in size. With no time to waste, he bolted behind the stable and into the forest.

It was time to find the Ranger.

It had been hours—maybe even half a day—since the Ranger had been traveling. Gilan eyed the little grey horse with envy. If he made it to the end of the day, it’d be a miracle. Certainly, a few more hours would pass and then his feet would fall off.

“Does he ever rest?” he muttered to himself, and then froze as a small crack reached his ears. Looking down, his heart jumped in his throat as the little twig beneath his foot crumbled into two smaller pieces. He tensed, expecting to be called out, to be cornered. But a minute passed by and he looked up. The horse continued through the forest, and the cloaked form remained as still as ever.

He hadn’t heard it. A rush of euphoria swept through his body. However loud it had seemed to Gilan, if the Ranger hadn’t heard it, then surely the noise had been minimal at best. So he continued on carefully, staying out of the path, wincing at every slight noise that he noticed—which seemed to be quite a lot.

Around an hour later, the steady rhythm of the horse stopped. The Ranger spoke softly to his companion, the Hibernian burr obvious from even Gilan’s distance. He watched from behind the tree and glanced back behind him. No one else was in sight. It was just him and Halt. If there were ever a time to catch him, it’d be now.

A large stream ran along the other side of the path and the shaggy horse gratefully drank from it. The Ranger searched through his leather sack and withdrew a pack of dried food. Gilan licked his lips, cursing himself for his own thoughtlessness. Good planning was part of being a Ranger, something he clearly lacked.

The Ranger turned. He leaned closer to the ground as the penetrating gaze burned into the surrounding forest. He swallowed, letting out a silent sigh of relief as the man turned back. His nerves were frazzled and his palms were sweating. Now that the Ranger was resting, there was no better time.

But he paused before starting forward, and then lowered himself back down. He didn’t just want to ask to become a Ranger. He wanted to surprise the Ranger. He wanted to show his skill, for surely, the man wouldn’t brush him off if he had promise. If he could surprise someone like Halt, then he had a guaranteed spot in the Corps.

Every little noise was heightened. But his own movements were nearly silent, and his confidence began to grow. He’d always held the Rangers in such awe at their almost mythical skill. There he was now, mimicking their secrets. How would they react now if they saw him, a mere boy, matching the skill and catching the eye of someone such as the legendary Ranger Halt?

The thought had just crossed his mind when something clamped onto the collar of his shirt. The color of the sky and the trees blurred together as his feet left the ground. He grunted as a rock poked into his back, and then jerked upward as the cold water seeped into his clothes. But as he flailed, his foot slipped on a rock and he landed back in the stream.

“Next time, be a little quieter,” said a low voice with that familiar Hibernian burr. Gilan groaned and shivered as he stood, slower this time, his clothes hanging off his frame as water trickled down from the cloth.

“Halt!” His mouth felt dry. “I…” He paused, not knowing which part to start with. “How did you know I was there?” That seemed the safest option.

The Ranger raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so deaf that I can’t hear a bear stumbling through the woods. Imagine my surprise when the bear turns out to be a boy a quarter of its size.” GIlan opened his mouth, and then closed it. He’d been so certain he could have made it. Yet, somehow, this Ranger had managed to hear him when even his parents wouldn’t have.

“Get out of the stream, boy,” the Ranger said. He looked up at the dark eyes nervously. “You don’t need to be catching a cold, and I don’t want to be the one to take care of you for it.”

He hesitated, and then waded through the water, scowling as the liquid sloshed around in his boots. “There wasn’t any other way you could have told me that?” he muttered.

“I suppose I could have shot at the space near you. That might have gotten your attention.” Gilan quickly shook his head, and the Ranger nodded. “I assumed that would be your response. Now get out.”

He sighed and trudged out of the stream. The image of a sopping wet, defeated boy surely would not strike the Ranger with any sort of inclination. He hadn’t considered the failure of his plan, but now that it had failed, the consequences came into mind.

His father would be furious. His mother, perhaps even more so, and the thought did little to settle the unease inside him. He’d snuck out of the house without any notice, had stalked a Ranger as he traveled, and even worse, had failed to impress him.

All in all, things didn’t seem to be working out for him that day.

Halt eyed the gangly, drenched boy with more than a little satisfaction. After a moment’s observance, he grunted and turned back around. “Do you have a horse?”

“What?” Halt raised his eyes to the heavens.

“I said,” he repeated, “do you have a horse?”

“No. Why would I need a horse?”

“Well, ordinarily, people use horses to travel, boy,” Halt replied, turning back to stare at the boy. “Unless you have some other mode of transportation in mind.”

Gilan flushed. “No,” he said, a bit stiffly. Halt nodded several times.

“Alright, then. You can walk.” He swung up in his saddle, and raised an eyebrow as he saw the boy still standing there. “Are you going to sit there and admire the view, or are you coming?”

“Coming where?”

Young children had never been taught to answer questions, apparently. “You can hardly go back alone, even if you came here by yourself. Your mother would kill me. You obviously approached me for a reason, and since you don’t have a horse, I’d rather not have you on mine. So you can walk.”

“Where…are we going?”

“Somewhere.” Halt urged Abelard forward, and the shuffling steps of the boy reached his ears as Gilan followed. “You have more skill than…the average person, let’s say, in sneaking around. Perhaps you could be of use.”

“I do?” Even without looking at him, Halt could picture the brightening of Gilan’s face. He rolled his eyes again.

“Somewhat.”

A short—but blissful, Halt thought—silence settled over the air, and then the boy was at it again. “Why aren’t you taking me back to my father?”

“Neither he nor Eleanor will be home for a few days, will he? How am I supposed to bring you home to someone who won’t be there?”

“But—”

“Enough questions.” He interrupted the boy, looking back with a stern frown. Gilan subsided immediately, and he gave a nod of satisfaction.

“How long are we going to be here?”

Halt closed his eyes and counted to ten.

#rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #john flanagan #gilan davidson #halt o'carrick #the life of a ranger #fanfic #ra fanfic

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 10 months ago

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The Cowgirl and The Aviator Ch14

Here it is guys the trial chapter. WARNINGS: Fluff, Mentions of Sex, Trial Inaccuracies, Mentions of Child Loss and Angst. (The picture of naked Glen was the inspiration for a scene in this so you're welcome)

The next morning you woke to Jake leaving kisses on your shoulder. “Morning babe”, you said. “Mornin’ Darlin’ how did you sleep?”, he asked. “It was great”, you smiled. You turned to face him and snuggled into his chest. “You have training today?”, you ask. “Yeah but Maverick said something about a later training schedule for this week”, he responded. You kissed over his heart and started to move lower, but Jake grabbed your arm to stop you. “Not until the doctor says you can remember”, he scolds.

You huff as he pulls you back up and kisses you on the lips. “What do you want to do today?”, he asks. “Maybe we can ask the others if they want to go out for lunch”, you suggest. “Well I guess you can send the word out and see what they say”, Jake says getting up. You watch as he walks to the bathroom and you have to bite your lip as you watch his naked ass disappear into the bathroom and groan. “Damn this injury”, you curse as you get up to get dressed. Jake walks back in and starts to get dressed.

The text you send just asks if anyone in the dagger squad wants to meet up for lunch and that they can bring a plus one if they so choose. The texts roll in so fast that you can’t keep up with them. Everyone has agreed and Bradley tells you he is bringing his girlfriend. You tell Jake as you then send out another text asking where everyone wants to eat and what time. Within thirty minutes everyone agrees on a taco bar and a time to meet.

“We have a couple hours to kill before we have to be there. Do you want to get the grocery shopping out of the way?”, you ask. “Yeah let’s go”, he responds. When you get in the truck Jake turns on an old country station then holds out his hand. Once you're buckled in you take his hand and he pulls out of the parking lot. The store was pretty laid back this morning, mostly elderly people after church had let out. You grab a cart while Jake walks beside you.

“What do we need?”, Jake asks. “Well we need a little bit of everything due to the fact we haven’t shopped since coming back from Texas”, you reply. You weave in between carts as you pick items that you need to stock the fridge and cabinets. Jake gets the heavier things for you and every once in a while asking him to get things on the top shelf. You can’t help but watch his shirt ride up when he reaches up. He smirks knowing that you’re doing it on purpose.

“Oh can you go get the bread we passed it already”, you tell him. He goes in search of the bread as you bend slightly to grab some cans of corn. When he comes back around into the aisle he can’t help himself as he lightly swats your ass. You squeak and jump a little as you turn towards him. “Jake, don't start a war here”, you hum. “Wouldn’t dream of it darlin’ “, he drawls. When he reaches for another item you swat him just like he did with you. He turns to give you that ‘your in trouble’ smile.

You laugh any time he pinches your ass or swats you, and he does the same when you do it to him. A little old lady watches until you send him on a search for another item. “Oh honey you both have it bad for each other”, she speaks. “It’s that obvious”, you say. “Me and my late husband God rest his soul were like that when we first started out. You hang on to that one and tie the knot if ya’ haven’t already. Love like that is hard to find”, she says. “I’ll keep that in mind”, you tell her.

“He is handsome and by the looks of him he is probably great in bed too”, she chirps. You go red with embarrassment as the little old lady laughs. “Oh honey it’s alright don’t think for one minute that our generation wasn’t jumping each other's bones no matter what they tell you life was like back in my day”, she says. You laugh with her at that comment and when Jake comes back he has this confused look on his face.

“What did I miss?”, he asks. “Oh I was just telling your woman here that she better hang on tight to you”, she laughs again at her little joke. You can’t help but laugh harder at her little joke. Poor Jake stands there still looking confused as the lady tells you both to have a blessed day. “So you going to tell me what that was all about?”, he questions. “She just told me we were a cute couple and that I should hang onto you because you’re a good one”, you say.

“Well was she wrong?”, he asked. “No she isn’t wrong I intend to hold on tight”, you reply. Jake pulls you in for a kiss and takes your ass in his hands and groping you. You swat at him as he laughs in the middle of the aisle. Eventually you both had everything that was needed as you both made it to the cash register. You separated the items to pay for your things so Jake could pay for his. “Now what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t pay for groceries”, he tells you.

“Jake I couldn’t ask you to do… wait are we a couple again?”, you asked. “Well I thought I made that clear back in Texas, but I would like to be able to call you my girlfriend again”, he said. “I’d like that a lot actually”, you say. You had yet to forgive him for dumping you in the first place, but he was making it hard for you to continue being upset about it. While leaving the grocery store Jake places his hand into your jeans back pocket.

“You are making it really hard not to jump you before my recheck appointment”, you gripe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about darlin’ “, he replied. He helps you load the groceries and when you got back to the apartment you grab a couple of bags as Jake grabs several. “What are you doing?”, you ask. “I’m not making another trip back down here”, he huffs. “I swear men are all the same in certain aspects”, you say. He makes it into the apartment when several bags fall or split open.

You can’t help but double over in laughter and pain at Jake’s annoyed face. “I would have made it to the kitchen if it weren’t for these shitty bags”, Jake grumbled. “Oh I’m sure casanova”, you smiled. That nickname was new and he liked it as you continued to giggle to yourself. “Darlin’ I got this if you want to go get ready for lunch”, he offers. “I’m already ready to go and you seem like you could use the help”, you reply.

After putting the groceries away the both of you didn’t have to leave for another hour. Jake sat down on the couch turning on a rerun. You walked over and straddled his lap as he raised a brow at you. You go in for a kiss as his hands go straight for your hips. You continued to kiss him and grind down a little to tease him. He moans as you swallow it with another kiss and then another. “What if I control the pace?”, you hum, as you grind down again. “Darlin’ as much as I want to, I'm not going to. Not until you're cleared by the doctor”, he groans.

“Just you wait. When I’m healed I’m tying you down and using you as many times as I want. Call it a start at redemption for leaving me in the first place”, you say getting up and walking away. “You can’t say things like that”, he grouches. “Well in your words the doctor has to clear me first”, you recall. Jake feels like he is going crazy because all he wants is to give you what you want. He also doesn’t want to hurt you because he would never forgive himself if he did. An alarm from your phone jolts him out of his thoughts as you announce it’s time to go to lunch.

When you get to the taco joint Nat and Bob are already there. Next to stroll in is Bradley and his new girlfriend, then Coyote and a woman with a toddler, then Payback and Fanboy. You soon learn that the woman with Coyote is his wife and the toddler is their daughter. You adore her immediately as she makes grabby hands at Jake. “I’m her favorite uncle”, Jake boasts. “You keep telling yourself that”, Coyote replies.

Everyone goes quiet when Nat asks how you have been holding up. “I’m doing alright. Still have some pain when I laugh or lift something I shouldn’t”, you explain. “Jake told us that you have to testify in court. Are you going to be okay without Jake being there?”, Bradley asked. “I.. wait what do you mean without Jake being there?”, you ask. Jake seems very upset with Bradley, but he turns back to you.

“I’ll be going on a mission with the rest of the squad, but I already talked with Colton, Evelynn and Bull. Bull is going to be there for the entire trial so you won’t be alone. I hate that I won’t be there darlin”, he says. You know that there is nothing Jake can do and you can’t be angry with him, but you were slightly panicking at the thought of Jake not being there. When lunch was over Jake took you straight home and went to his room telling you to stay in the living room.

You sat on the couch waiting for him and when he came back he had something in his hands. “I want you to have these and remember I’m with you when you have to testify”, he tells you. He kneels down and has you hold out your hand to drop something cool into your palm. When you looked down it was a pair of dog tags. “These were my old set and I swore to myself I would never give these to someone I didn’t trust”, he tells you.

You tear up knowing what this means to him and pull him in for a passionate kiss. “I want to tell you something I rarely tell anyone”, you say. You pull Jake’s hand to make him sit beside you. “I told you about my dad, but I never told you about my mom”, you say. “Bradley told me you rarely talk about her”, Jake said. “She was the greatest mom anyone could have had. She was the one that got me into riding horses. She was so strong and I wanted to be like her so bad when I was little”, you stated.

“I went to college and I was half way through my studies when I went home for break. I was dating my ex before I left for college and I went to stay with him. Well the night that I told him I was leaving him and he tried to suffocate me I called my mom. She was worried as hell and told me she was coming… to…to get me….and take… me home”, you stutter. The tears come fast as you try to get through telling Jake what happened. He doesn’t move not knowing where this is going.

“She picked me up and I told her I would drive. I must have hit a patch of ice and slid into a creek. I remember the freezing water came pouring in and the panic in my moms voice”, you sob. “I hadn’t put my seatbelt on, but my mom had hers on and it locked. I tried so hard to get that damn…belt off, but no matter…how hard I tried it wouldn’t let…go”, you continue.

“I remember her…telling me… ‘just go baby I’ll be alright. Your father has waited long enough’. I almost drowned trying to save her. Another driver saw what happened and called for rescue, but by the time they got there she had drowned. My brother blamed me for what happened and cut me out of his life. I went back to college to get away. I went to a party the baseball team was holding and that’s how I met Bradley. He shared what happened to his parents and I guess we trauma bonded”, you laugh through tears.

Jake doesn’t waste another second before pulling you into him to hug you. He is fighting tears of his own as he realizes how traumatic that must have been. “I’m so sorry that happened to you and I am so sorry I made you go to the creek when we were down in Texas. Had I known I never would have taken you there”, he says into your hair. “It’s alright my parents loved the water and we spent weekends on lakes when dad was home. I actually like the water. I feel connected to my mom when I’m in water”, you state.

You both sit in silence for a while until you realize you hadn’t forgiven Jake and he would be leaving soon for a mission with the Dagger Squad. “I forgive you”, you whisper. “What?”, he questions as he pushes you back a little to look into your eyes. “I said I forgive you. You leave for a mission soon and I don’t want anything left unsaid between us. I forgive you for the breakup”, you tell him.

His smile is genuine as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “I just wish I could be here for you when you have to go to the trial”, he says. “I’ll have these and they will be close to my heart the entire time”, you reply. You pull back a little to put the dog tags on then decide to make dinner. Jake helps you as you get into that familiar rhythm of dancing around each other to make said dinner. You steal kisses every once in a while and once the dinner is cooked Jake pours two glasses of bourbon.

“That dinner was amazing”, Jake says. The two glasses of bourbon making him sleepy as he yawns. “Maybe we should head to bed”, you tell him. You both brush your teeth and you tell Jake you will be in the bedroom in a minute. He strips to nothing and gets into bed to wait for you. You look in the bathroom mirror as you tease your hair to make it look tousled. Jake was plugging his phone in when you walked in wearing only his dog tags.

“Darlin’ you’re killin’ me here”, he groans. “Well you’re the one that said no sex until the doctor says I’m cleared for physical activity”, you taunt. “I did and I’m going to stand by that”, he replies. You snuggle into his side as he wraps his arm around you. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about your mom”, he whispers. “Thank you for trusting me enough to give me these”, you reply, grabbing his tags. “I love you darlin’ and I know that we are going to have our ups and downs, but every couple does. I promise to try and work through our problems together”, he admits. “Same here babe”, you yawn.

Jake watches as you sleep until he falls asleep as well. The next morning he wakes to a glass breaking in the kitchen he slips on a pair of boxers and slips into a pair of slip on shoes. “(Y/N) are you alright?”, he asks as he rounds the corner. You hold a piece of paper and he can tell by your face that it’s the court summons. “(Y/N)”, he calls again. This time you look up as you realize what you had dropped. “Shit I’m sorry I got distracted”, you reply.

You start to clean up the glass as Jake grabs the broom and dustpan to help you. “Are you alright?”, he questions. “I have to testify and for once I feel like I’m in control”, you reply. “That’s my girl”, he says as he wraps you into a hug and kisses the crown of your head. “I wish I could be there for you”, he sighs. “You will be right here”, you tell him, tapping his dog tags. He smiles happy that you find comfort in them.

When Jake has to leave you drive him to the same drop off point. He watches the tear fall down your cheek as he steps forward cupping your face in his hand and wiping the tear away with his thumb. “Wait for me?”, he asks. “Always”, you reply. You both share a kiss that lasts longer than you expected until Coyote yells for him to hurry up or they’ll be late. You watch him walk away as he will be gone for four months this time.

You go back to the doctor a couple days later where he clears you for work and physical activity. Penny is glad to have you back and you had to admit you missed the Hard Deck. It was like another home to you as the date for court kept getting closer. Penny had agreed to take you to the airport and it wasn’t until you were on the plane when you started to panic. You wanted Jake here with you when you remembered the dog tags around your neck. You held onto them until the plane was in the air imaging flying with Jake.

It had only been a month but his absence was felt every time you saw a jet fly over. You had sent a letter to him telling him that the doctor had cleared you and that you were nervous, but ready for the trial. This time Bull was there to pick you up from the airport as you ran to hug him. “How’s the toughest gal I know?”, he questioned. “I’m still kickin’ like a mule”, you respond. “Well the guys are excited to see ya”, he tells you. “I think the only thing they miss is my cookin’ “, you laugh.

Bull laughs as you both make your way back to the ranch. You decided to get there a week before you had to testify so you could prepare. The ranch hands let you ride out with them for a couple days and beg you to cook for them a couple of times. You thanked the youngest one for riding back to the house to get help when you were shot with a small cake, and the rest cookies for being there for you. “Yer spoilin’ em”, Bull told you. “Well they deserve it don’t you think”, you reply.

Bull is worried about you the closer the date gets for you to testify, but you seem to be doing alright. The day you have to testify you wake up before the sun and Bull drives you to the court house. Bull can’t help but notice how you fidget with dog tags. “Those your dads?”, he questioned. “No their Jake’s old set”, you reply. “He must truly love you hun. A man that gives something that personal has to be in it for the long haul”, he says. “Did you give your wife anything when you were dating that was similar?”, you asked.

“I did. I gave her my fathers old war medal”, he replies. The rest of the ride he talks about his wife and you listen intently. “I think I would have liked her”, you say. “She would have loved ya hun”, he replies. “Why do you say that?”, you ask. “We had a daughter that was still born and after that she was always trying to fill that void ya’ know. I just wish she were around to meet ya”, he tells you. “I would have loved to call her my second mom”, you say.

The courthouse came into view as you made your way inside. When they called you to the stand the defense lawyer grilled you hard, but you stuck with your story never wavering. The whole time your ex sat glaring at you, but you stayed strong and held onto the dog tags. When they were done with questions you were able to take a seat. From what they had told you before you testified it was an open and shut case. The trial only took a couple of days and when the jury went to deliberate you sat with Bull.

When they came back with all they had charged him with he got thirty-five to life in prison with no possibility of parole. You blew out a breath you had been holding as Jackson went ballistic. Bull pulled you behind him as he tried to reach you calling you a lying bitch before two police officers took him away. Bull took you back to the ranch right away and took you out to camp for a couple days. You spent some time with Evelynn and the kids for a day before you had to head back to San Diego.

You were feeding little Jake while Georgia and Annabelle asked you questions. Evelynn and Colton stepped out onto the back porch. “Did you see what (Y/N) has been wearin’ around her neck?”, Evelynn asked. “A pair of dog tags?”, Colton questioned. “Not just any pair of dog tags. They are Jakes old set”, Evelynn says. Colton seems lost as he waits for Evelynn to elaborate. “He swore he would never give anyone those tags if he didn’t plan on bein’ in it for the long haul”, Evelynn smiled.

“We’ll see some guys say that and it don’t really mean anythin”, Colton responded. “I know my brother and I guarantee she is the one”, she hums. “I’ll believe it when I see it”, Colton responds. When you have to leave Bull takes you to the airport. “I told Evelynn I was going to be sending letters to keep you informed about what’s happening in San Diego”, you tell him. “I’d like that. Stay safe hun”, he tells you. You both hug before you have to go through security and wait to board your plane.

When you got back to San Diego there was a letter waiting for you from Jake. You tore it open and started to read it. ‘Dear (Y/N), I love and miss you so much. I’m sorry I’m not there to celebrate your medical release, but when I get home be ready for the uniform ;) Maverick appointed me as team leader this time and I’m not sure I’m up to the task. I hope the trial goes well and they put that fucker away for a long time. I hope to see you in a couple more months. Love, Jake'.

You smile as you write a letter back and include a photo of you holding baby Jake with Georgia and Annabelle sitting on either side of you smiling. You had no idea the stress that Jake was feeling this time around. Rooster was his wingman and he was worried of a repeat of losing someone. He was sure you would never forgive him if anything happened to your best friend. The only thing helping him was the picture he would take with him and put in his cockpit.

#top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #dagger squad #pete maverick mitchell

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stusbunker · 10 months ago

Text

Spotless: Ziehen

Chapter Thirty One

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Zachariah, Crowley, Dick, Bobby, Sam and Benny

Word Count: 2053, with other media

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, talk of extra-curricular activities coming up, a thirst trap because Jensen has been unfair lately, Benny being a teddy bear, and Bela trying to make amends

Series Masterlist

“And between record store day and Phantom Traveler’s release, Q2 is looking to break records for us,” Zachariah droned on.

“Well, it’s the least they could do,” Dick added glibly.

You couldn’t roll your eyes, you were on camera, but you wanted to. Crowley didn’t reply, but Zachariah chuckled and took a beat to agree before going on down the line of his report. Bobby huffed, but kept a lid on it, which told you how much he knew Dick was right.

“Things are shaping up well with pre-orders and the appearances Bobby and company have lined up between Vegas and New Orleans with the album release. should outshine their previous album sales by a wide margin,” Crowley tacks on, almost bored with the success.

You set that up, not Bobby, but you kept your mouth shut, nodding.

“Y’all can thank Y/N for that, you know,” Bobby said gruffly.

“Of course,” Dick agreed offhandedly, eyes darting down to other parts of his screen.

Thank God for Bobby. You simply smiled and kept listening.

“Sounds great, people! Let’s check back the week of the release to ensure we’re still on track. We’ve got a lot of numbers to move to get in the black here, but I see good things happening,” Dick smarmed and instantly sent a meeting invite for the following month.

“Thank you!” you replied dutifully and closed the window for the chat. After accepting the invite and adding it to your personal calendar, you exhaled long and hard. You checked your phone, Bela had called again and left another two text messages. You ignored her. She could wait.

You called Bobby for a mix of mutual griping and to debrief about where that put you all going forward.

Without even a greeting, Bobby started, “I swear they get dumber every quarter.”

“Tell me about it. Thanks for having my back in there, though, I was starting to see red by the end.”

“You and me both, darlin’.” Bobby huffed. “The amount of stuff you get done is amazing. Even without all the run-around from the last tour, you are doing more than anybody I’ve seen in your position. We appreciate ya, even if the suits can’t see past their nose jobs.”

You beamed.

“Thanks. So, what’s on the agenda for the week? I know Dean and Sam took Gibson and Pamela to the zoo.”

“Yeap. Got the Midway Museum tomorrow if you have time, got tickets for anybody who wants to go. Might be good time for pictures if you need some candids for the socials.”

You knew this was his way of telling you to come, he even gave you justification for doing it on so called work hours.

“Maybe. I might just steal some from the band. Too much to get done before the show on Thursday.”

“Well, you’re welcome to join us if you get caught up or not.”

“Thanks.” It felt like all you could say to him today. It was a small word with a lot of connotations, but you were grateful. You owed Bobby so much. Though he never gave anything he didn’t want to give or for any form of repayment. He was too good for this industry. They all were.

“I’ll keep you posted. I have calls with the next couple of venue coordinators today and then some event security stuff tomorrow morning with Benny for some non-venue signings and stuff.”

“You still want to do the battered women's shelter thing?”

“The domestic violence survivors fundraiser in Vegas? Absolutely.”

Bobby hummed.

“I know what you’re thinking, Bobby. And that’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

“Do you think it looks like pandering?”

“I think it looks like community service. And if I didn’t think Dean could handle it, I wouldn’t have signed him up for it.”

“Even after that little disappearing act on Saturday?”

“Dean is a domestic abuse survivor, Bobby. Part of what he’s gone through is accepting that.”

“Yeah, but Cas—.”

“Cas is still family. And he didn’t press charges. And you know Dean—- penance is something he needs to do for himself, too.”

Bobby sighed. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Trust me, this is still my good side.”

Bobby actually chuckled at that. “I bet! Okay, I should get going, promised the missus we’d hit the shops before dinner.”

“Have a good one.”

“Alrighty, bye then.”

You smiled at your desk as Bobby hung up. He was happy and Annie was good for him. It didn’t matter their pasts, they made it work, and made each other better along the way.

Which seemed utterly remarkable and unattainable for somebody like you.

But if anybody deserved it, it was them.

You put down your phone and pulled up Twitter, it was time to dig through the chaos and do what you did best: highlight the good, the band's synergy and the new momentum and bury the bad.

Which seemed to include you this time around, unfortunately.

After Twitter, you tackled Insta, Reddit and even FB, though most people cross posted the same images and anecdotes, some people only used one of the bunch. And some only used them on pain of death, namely Dean. Meanwhile, Bela had posted a couple of great shots from the afterparties, which you liked as the band and as yourself.

You were crabby, not petty.

And busy, damnit.

The next morning, Sam smirked at you when he caught your eye in the hotel’s gym. He was already sweating from running outside, but must have come back to stretch or work something more intensely. What you weren’t expecting was Dean to be hot on his heels, equally as sweaty, equally as mischievous.

“Trouble! How’s business?”

You rolled your eyes and took out an earbud, not sure you really heard them.

“What’s up?”

“We’re gonna lift— you want in?” Sam was teasing you now.

You pedaled stiffly and shook your head. “Fuck no, I’m good here, got another ten mile circuit after this breather.”

“Suit yourself,” Dean taunted and grinned before he crossed his legs and touched his toes. What the hell? Luckily there was only one other guest using the elliptical, so they weren’t being complete nuisances, yet.

They weren’t even directly in your line of sight, otherwise it could have gotten awkward, and distracting.

Still, you felt them keep glancing at you, making faces, and even cheering for you when you shifted up with your ass out of the seat to get the best angle for the various hills. You flipped them off, but kept your eyes forward and your earbuds in place.

Thirty minutes later, you groaned and stepped off the stationary bike. Dean and Sam had been talking more than doing curls with the free weights, obviously being dorks about each other’s efforts.

Boys.

“Good workout?” Dean asked as you sanitized your equipment. Sweat clung to your oversized tank top, all down your back, and between your legs. Thank god you wore your black workout leggings today.

“Yeah? You?” You smirked as Dean made a show of extending his movements slowly and pointedly. Yes, Dean, your arms should be illegal, you thought.

“Good, uh— need help stretching?”

You looked at him a little dumbfounded and then back at Sam, who seemed just as surprised as you were by the offer.

“Nah, I’ve got my bands and stuff in my room. Though, I bet Sam would love to see you try and bullshit your way through a cool down routine,” you tacked on, trying to laugh off the offer. Inside you were imagining Dean’s weight against you, pushing your knees up and out, flexing your hip joints with his thick fingers digging into the meat of you…

“Hey! I was just being nice.”

“Dude,” Sam muttered.

You sighed and gave Dean an apologetic smile. “Maybe another time.”

You pretended not to hear the series of slaps that happened behind your back as you made your way to the elevator and your generic hotel shower.

Benny treated you to lunch after your video calls with the S.A.F.E. House staff and the one with the folks at the radio station who’d be interviewing the band the morning of the first Vegas show.

“Saw your tweet on Cas’ post,” you added thoughtfully, midway through your shrimp po boys.

“Yeah, well, didn’t want him thinking he done wrong by us.”

You chewed and nodded, silently telling him that you got it, appreciated it even.

“You hear anything else from the guys about the last show, you know, after Dean disappeared and, um, everything?”

You needed to know if the guards were loyal, but mostly you wanted to know what they had seen.

“Seemed pretty anticlimactic to most of them, from what I hear. Dean came through, sober and clean as a whistle. —Even the venue goons didn’t clock anything weird,” Benny pointed out before taking another bite, his teeth flashing in the afternoon sun.

After a few moments, Benny continued. “But, uh, that label stooge you got following Bela? He’s the one to worry about, really, seems to keep his cards close to the vest.”

Damn, you knew he was right before he even finished the sentence. Tiny would be the one to squeal to Crowley, or worse, Dick, at the end of the day. You wondered if you could buy him off or treat him in other ways while on the road. Bela wasn’t scheduled to be around until the second Vegas show, you had some time to figure out his motives. Or if he even cared at all.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

Benny sniffed and looked around the small patio outside the restaurant. “Bela’s not really Dean’s girl is she? She some kind of clout pusher?”

You swallowed and took a long slurp of your iced tea, washing away the now muted flavor of your lunch. “I honestly don’t know anymore, Benny. They’ve definitely been enjoying each other’s company more than I expected.”

“Perhaps—- but don’t you worry none. She’s not the type you settled down with and he’s got eyes deeper than the cut of her fancy tops.”

You huffed. Benny certainly had a way with words.

“It’s okay, Benny— I’m not in a place to be jealous.”

He just raised his eyebrows at you and took another bite.

“I did this— I set them up. I’d guess you’d call it reaping what I sow or something?”

Benny nodded and shrugged. “Or something.”

“You won’t— you won’t tell anybody, right? His story is safe with you?”

“Doll, I’ve been covering that boy’s ass since before Lisa— I’m true.”

“I know, Benny, sorry—- it’s just so much posturing all the time. I just want to take pictures and show the world how badass they are. I want people to hear the stories behind the songs, because it shows they’re human too. Sometimes I wish—-”

“Wishin’ for rain in the desert aint doin’ anybody a lick of good. You know the score, you just gotta beat them at their own game. Dean’s a good man, he knows what’s real. Don’t think we all don’t know that, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Know who your people are, if you trust Bela— then she won’t let Tiny think anything is up. Friends have each other’s back against the world, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, suddenly feeling ridiculously immature for ignoring her for the past few days.

“Eat up, cher. It’s a long tour. You’ll need your strength.”

That was an understatement, but you dug in anyway.

“Y/N, listen— I’ve resorted to leaving you a voicemail. It’s come to that. I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean anything disparaging about you the other night— just maybe about how you treat Dean. Not that it's bad, overkill more like, but it’s not like you’re bad or weak for doing it.--- I know how much you loved her, Y/N, I know. Him too, it seems. I just don’t want you wasting so much of your life trying to make up for losing her. It hurts to see you so— subservient. You are so much more than an errand girl. So I’m sorry for my lack of tact. But I’m not sorry I brought it up. Okay? There. Call me back and yell at me properly already, Jesus.”

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 32: Tronco

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean angst #dean is not so smooth

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mollymauk-teafleak · 23 days ago

Text

never fallen from quite this high (chapter two)

Thank you so much for being interested in this concept, this was the mist self indulgent I think I've ever gotten to be. Final part of the hollanov omegaverse fic!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

-----

Please call me

I need to know you’re okay

Whatever I did, I’m sorry.

If you need us to be over, ok. Just tell me you’re alright.

Please don’t hate me

Ilya didn’t know why he’d hoped for anything different.

Shane hadn’t replied to any of his texts from the past two days, he wasn’t going to answer just because Ilya had managed to tear himself away from his phone and go to practice. The universe wasn’t going to reward him because, for an hour, he’d actually done his job instead of lying on his bed, staring into the darkness beyond the glow of his screen. That wasn’t how this worked and he knew that.

But still, he’d hoped. And it hurt like hell to yank his phone out of his bag and see no message from Shane.

“Rozanov? You okay?” Hayes asked in a way that really showed he knew the answer but was trying to keep things casual.

Ilya grunted, using the excuse of sweat running into his eyes to avoid his winger’s concerned gaze. Of course Hayes knew the answer. He’d just seen Ilya come back after disappearing for days and then play hockey like he’d never put on a pair of skates in his life.

“Tired,” Ilya grunted in response, which he supposed was a safe amount of truth.

Hayes nodded slowly, realising there was no easy, painless path to the conversation they really should be having. Around them, the other Centaurs continued their normal, after practice chaos, shoving each other and shouting over the pounding music the way a group of alphas simply had to when they were crowded into one room.

Ilya should be deep in amongst them, laughing louder than anyone, leading the insults and inviting plenty of his own, hiding genuine praise and advice for his team in his teasing. Now it felt like his team were behind a pane of glass, their simple joy muffled so much it was incomprehensible to him.

Hayes too, though he was doing his best, trying to reach out towards him, “We could go get a drink? I'll pull a couple of the guys together or maybe just you and me? We can talk about…about how tired you are.”

Ilya slumped, his bare back hitting the wall. Part of him wanted to say yes. Part of him wanted to go to some bar and sob his heart out into a glass of lukewarm beer, wanted to have his friend pat his shoulder and agree with him how fucking shitty this was. He wanted someone to help him understand how it had gone so wrong.

But he couldn’t. Telling Hayes, telling anyone, would still feel like a betrayal. He couldn’t bring himself to share a secret that wasn’t solely his, even if it might mean nothing now.

And besides, it would be too close to admitting that this was over, that he and Shane were something past. And however much it hurt, Ilya couldn’t keep himself from hoping. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m…I’m good,” he sighed, hearing how rough and raw his own voice was, “I think I’ll just go home and…”

And stare at the wall? And send more pathetic texts? Call again and again and cry every time he heard Shane’s voice asking him to leave a message? Poke at the empty space inside him, throbbing like a missing tooth, and wonder how he was supposed to go on with this ache inside him, how anything was ever going to matter again?

Ilya was saved from trying to come up with a less depressing end to that sentence when Harris burst into the locker room, clearly making a beeline for him. His face was tight with anxiety, an expression that simply didn’t sit right on a face so used to grinning. Instantly, the mood shifted, the noise died down, even the music seemed to edge back a couple of notches. If Harris Drover had a face like that, something had to be very, very wrong. No one on the Centaurs team had seen him without a smile since Troy Barrett had put his bond mark on his shoulder.

“Hey, uh…have you seen this?” Harris held out his phone to Ilya almost apologetically, “It was announced when you were on the ice so…”

It was an article, posted on a well known sports news site that, at least in Canada, was ninety percent devoted to ice hockey. Ilya never looked at it unless they’d posted a good photo of him but it was the kind of thing Shane had probably been checking every day since he was ten years old. He’d often sent Ilya articles from it, usually looking for a playful argument about whatever was going on in the league, some snapping back and forth even though they were usually in agreement.

Ilya’s heart clenched as he wondered how it had felt, for Shane to wake up and see himself right there on the front page. Under the headline NHL Star Shane Hollander benched for the rest of the season.

“Shit, for real?” Barrett read over his shoulder, wincing the way any hockey player would, understanding what a blow that was, “How bad was that injury?”

Exactly the question that was reverberating around Ilya’s mind, over and over, clawing at the inside of his skull. The playoffs were just around the corner, Shane would rather knit his bones together and hold his organs in place by sheer force of will than miss those games.

“It doesn’t say why,” Harris grimaced, “But obviously people are running their mouths in the comments anyway, you know what people are like and-”

“His contract is up at the end of the season,” Ilya’s voice came out flat, hollow, fist tight around the phone.

Harris nodded bleakly, “Yeah, they noticed that too. Even the article is wondering if…if they’re maybe not gonna renew it?”

A quiet, collective wince ran through the locker room, every Centaur now focused on their little group and this strange news. Shane Hollander not playing for the Voyageurs was unthinkable, it was ‘sign of the apocalypse’ levels of wrong.

“What the hell happened?” Lucas Haas’ boyish voice actually trembled a little, like he was genuinely afraid.

All eyes slid over to Ilya. Even if those who weren’t close enough to guess what was really going on still knew he and Shane were business partners, friends. Hell, even if they still believed he hated him, the idea of one without the other was still something painful, something broken.

Ilya barely felt their eyes. He was too lost in thinking how much Shane would be hurting right now. How he’d be torturing himself, rethinking everything he’d ever achieved, convincing himself that he’d never been worth anything at all. And he would be doing it all alone, all because he’d kept Ilya at arms length.

All because of this fucking secret.

Ilya stood, shoving Harris’ phone back into his hand so he could yank on a shirt and start gathering his kit. No one tried to stop him as he shouldered his way out of the locker room, no one asked where he was going or tried to make him explain. They’d all seen that look in his eyes before, out on the ice, and they knew to keep out of the way.

“I don’t know what happened,” Ilya answered Haas’ question honestly, the last thing he said before the door swung shut behind him.

But I’m going to find out.

Ilya sent one last text before throwing his phone into the backseat, for once not caring if there would be a reply. He’d find out for himself soon enough.

I’m coming to the cottage. You don’t want to see me, don’t be there.

He still gave Shane the choice, he wouldn’t force him into anything, but he wouldn’t let his omega, his lover, his friend, his rival, whatever they were to each other, he wouldn’t let him hurt himself any more. Whatever had made him run from Ilya, it couldn’t be worth him sitting up there in the middle of nowhere, going through the worst day of his life by himself.

And if it was, if Ilya really had done something so terrible, then he supposed he’d know when he knocked on the door and no one answered.

Ilya would have wondered if he was making the right call, assuming Shane would be up at his lakeside cottage. But he knew he was right, the same way he knew when his shot would land directly in the back corner of the net. Shane would have fled there the moment they let him out of the hospital, he would have needed the silence and the distance from the rest of the world. Every time they’d been up there, Ilya had gotten to watch the weight physically leave his shoulders, his eyes brighten a little, each of his breaths get slightly deeper.

He saw the same thing when Shane looked at him. It was hard for Ilya to believe he could offer someone that kind of peace, some wires had gotten crossed upstairs and he’d been given a joy he should never have been allowed. But he’d seen it with his own two eyes and right now, Shane needed that.

Fuck this weird attempt to punish himself. Fuck Shane’s stubborness. Fuck his assumption that that Ilya just stay away, that he wouldn’t fight for them.

Ilya would do what he’d been doing his entire career. He’d chase Shane Hollander down and remind him there was another future beyond the one he’d planned out.

Ilya slammed his foot on the gas, roaring out of Ottawa and into the wilderness that was still so easy to find in this country, nature simply too strong here to fully bow down. It felt good to finally be moving, to shake off the paralysis and do something, to watch the minutes count down on his GPS until, for better or worse, he’d have an answer.

Until he’d see Shane, look him in the eyes and tell him he wasn’t giving up so easily.

Ilya had never thought about the bond between two mates before, assuming it was something he’d never experience for himself. He’d heard his teammates go on and on about the connection they felt with their partners, usually while drunk and sentimental, always parroting the same lines from bad movies and old poems that had probably been written when someone else was drunk and sentimental. He’d always nodded, insisted he was happy for them, teased them about it.

But behind his eye rolls, he’d always thought of how his father had used his bond mark like a chain around his mother’s throat. How his brother had claimed his own wife before telling her about his gambling debts, shackling them together before she could get away.

Ilya had always told himself he would never trust anyone to hold that kind of power over him, that freedom would always be better than love if love could turn so sour and acidic.

He'd told himself that was why he’d never brought it up with Shane, not even in some distant, dreamlike future where they were retired and their rivalry maybe wouldn’t matter anymore. That word mate was heavy, weighed down by bad memories and strange, remote feelings Ilya couldn’t see fitting inside himself. Best to leave it alone.

He told himself that. But somewhere along the way, when the hook ups after their games together became long Skype calls and flurries of texts back and forth and a loon inked on his arm, he’d realised how thin a lie it was. Ilya just couldn’t bear to ask out loud and watch Shane’s deep, dark eyes turn sad as they both felt the weight of their reality press down on them. He didn’t want to make them confront yet another thing they could give each other. Another thing where maybe one day would sound like never.

But it felt like his body had decided for him. Whether he believed his teammate’s stories or not, he couldn’t deny the way the sick feeling he’d carried for days was retreating, the more miles he chewed under the car’s wheels. He couldn’t deny how he seemed to breathe a little easier, how it felt like a rope was wrapped around his chest, taut and trembling for days and only now starting to slacken as the distance between him and Shane grew smaller.

Or maybe it was all in Ilya’s head. Maybe Shane wouldn’t be there. Maybe all of this had been some lie his hormones had told him.

The doubts came as he pulled up outside the cottage, as the smooth growl of the engine and the headlights cut out, plunging him into the silent darkness punctuated only by the falling snow. There was only the pounding of Ilya’s own heartbeat in his ears, sounding anxious, like a bird beating against the bars of a cage, desperate to fly out into that darkness and find its other half.

Still, it was a long, trembling moment before he could open the door and step outside, a pause that was half a prayer. Ilya didn’t know who he was pleading to, to his mother, to a god, to the goddamn loons out on the lake, to the bond that held him and Shane together that could be fraying even now. Whoever was listening and looking to give a guy a fucking break really.

But, whether they heard him or not, none of them could take the first step for him, none of them could walk up to the door and knock on it. Ilya was left to do that himself. He winced at the loud crunch of snow and gravel under his sneakers, feeling like an intruder already as every step shattered the quiet. He knocked quickly, somehow feeling more nervous than the first time he’d done it, years ago now.

Ilya remembered it so clearly. It had been summer then, no snow on the ground, the air warm and filled with the sound of life in the trees. He’d stood on the porch, trying to hard to keep his hands in his pockets and slouch in a cool, effortless way that would show this wasn’t a big deal and he wasn’t internally panicking about what this meant for their relationship, at all. He’d been so close to bolting, to telling himself this was a step too far, that he had to pull back before he and Hollander crossed a line they weren’t ready for.

Until the door had opened and he’d seen Shane standing there. And in that one moment, everything had clicked into place and Ilya had known he was standing exactly where he was supposed to be.

The two moments couldn’t have been more different. But when the door finally, finally creaked open and Shane stood there, Ilya was filled with the exact same certainty. He needed to be here.

Shane looked rough. His eyes were painfully red, shadows under them that suggested he’d been getting as much sleep as Ilya had. His usually perfect hair was all out of place, stuck in the shape his anxious fingers had combed it into. And he still looked so pale, ashy the way it had been on the ice even before his injury. He looked like a man whose life had fallen apart in the space of a few days but, mercifully, he was standing and walking and breathing which was all Ilya could care about in that first split second.

“Shane…” he blurted out almost reflexively, a response to the relief that struck him hard in the chest.

Shane’s lower lip trembled, his voice a rasp like he hadn’t used it in a while, “I didn’t…I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Ilya didn’t try to hide the pain he felt at that, “You really didn’t?”

Shane wrapped the arm that wasn’t holding the door around his body, like he was trying to physically hold himself in one piece, “I thought you’d get the message.”

Ilya barely felt his hands clenched into fists with how hard he was having to keep himself from taking Shane in his arms, “Kind of hard to do when you don’t actually say anything to me, no?”

Shane flinched a little at that but he didn’t argue, eyes ducking and darkening with shame. He stepped back into the cottage, giving Ilya space to walk past him into the warmth. The fire was roaring but it was the only light in the place, the dancing shadows thrown far up the walls and looking more sinister than comforting. There was a blanket bunched up in front of the fire, still half in the shape of Shane’s body, clearly where he’d been curled up until Ilya knocked on the door and disturbed him.

Something about that tugged on Ilya’s instincts, like he was supposed to realise something. It was almost like a haphazard nest but Shane wasn’t in heat. At least he shouldn’t be, they’d have given him suppressants at the hospital, surely?

Ilya shook his exhausted mind back to more important things, “Seeing as I’m clearly too stupid, you want to just tell me in person what this grand message is?”

He wanted Shane to get angry, he wanted the stubborn, snapping rival he’d always known, the one who wasn’t afraid to push back and had no trouble convincing the narrow minded world that he was an alpha. He wanted to see something in those eyes that wasn’t pure misery.

But Shane didn’t bite back. He just looked so tired and so deeply, deeply sad, in the glimpse Ilya got before he turned away.

“That’s not what I meant, Ilya, I just…I thought it was clear that I had a good reason for ending this.”

That word terrified Ilya more than he could say, however much he’d prepared himself to hear it.

“There is no reason good enough,” he growled, the fear turning into anger the way it always did, a chemical reaction in his heart he’d always been unable to control.

Shane’s breathing hitched, a broken sound that was trying to be a laugh, “You sure about that?”

Ilya looked at him helplessly, wondering where this gulf between them had come from and how he was going to get across it, all he could do was reach out and hope Shane could hear him.

“I’d rather decide that for myself, Shane. Please?”

After a long moment, Shane finally turned around to face Ilya, leaning against the back of the couch like just standing was draining him. Ilya felt his heart clench as he realised he was wearing the Boston Bears shirt he’d left for him years ago, after a heat they’d shared together. It was faded now, the graphic peeling slightly at the edge, but Shane’s hands were fisted in its fabric like it was his only anchor right now.

“You’re right,” Shane croaked, eyes finally meeting Ilya’s like he’d been trying to keep them apart but just couldn’t any longer, “I’m sorry.”

Ilya blinked, a little surprised. He couldn’t remember the last time his famously stubborn omega had admitted someone else was right. But Shane said the words like they were the only things he was sure of in the world, his eyes soft and sad, no longer trying to hide the shame in them.

“I guess…I guess I got scared,” he bit his lip, forcing it to hold still before he could continue, “I thought this way would be cleaner somehow but I was just being a coward. You deserved better than that. And I’m sorry.”

“Shane…” Ilya heard his voice crack, struck by the unmistakable sense that something was rushing at them, hard and fast and he didn’t know what would be left afterwards.

He’d always known that Shane Hollander was brave. Anyone who strapped knives to their feet and threw themselves into a roller derby on ice had to be called brave, he supposed, but it was more than that with Shane. To defy everything anyone thought about omegas, to put himself in the public eye and risk being found out, to smash every record the way he had, to be the captain of twenty three other alphas and earn their respect over and over again. It took so much for Shane to face and Ilya was perhaps the only person who understood why. Because some things were worth that risk.

Ilya saw that now in Shane’s eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw, the sharp breath he took. At that moment, he knew that Shane Hollander was maybe the bravest person he’d ever met.

“I’m pregnant, Ilya,” he said the words in a rush, like a desperate strike at a goal in the final moments of a game.

Of all the things Ilya had been expecting him to say, that had pretty much been last on the list. And the moment he knew, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it.

“They told me in the hospital, after I went down,” Shane was still talking, rambling and clutching anxiously at his shirt, “I wouldn’t ever have gone out on the ice if I’d known, I swear, I had no idea. They realised I was an omega, did a test and…and they’re there.”

Ilya opened his mouth but the words kept pouring out of Shane, like some valve had burst inside him after days of building pressure, tears rolling down his cheeks as it all wrenched free.

“And I know you didn’t ask for this, I know this ruins absolutely everything. I mean, fuck, it’s already done it, hasn’t it? I can’t play, I already know the Voyageurs won’t renew my contract, Coach said as much. They were all fine with me being an omega as long as it stayed a secret but now it can’t be so they’re dropping me, after everything. I just couldn’t let it ruin your life too, Ilya, I thought I was protecting you. I promise, I don’t want anything from you, you can leave and I’ll do this by myself, I won’t tell anyone whose it is. I can’t ask you to-”

Ilya couldn’t hear anymore. He didn’t have the words for this so he simply didn’t speak. He just acted.

He stepped forward, closing his arms around Shane, holding him the way he’d been desperate to for days now, maybe even longer than that. He held nothing back, he held him like he was shielding him from the rest of the world, like the only things that mattered were right here, pressed against his chest. He hoped his heartbeat, thrumming frantically against his ribs like it was trying to jump the gap between them, said everything he couldn’t.

Because all Ilya could do was rasp, “Are you okay? Both of you, are you okay?”

Shane trembled in his arms, clinging on for dear life like he was scared Ilya would disappear at any moment, “Yeah. Yeah, they ran a bunch of tests, there’s no damage. Even did an ultrasound, I…I got to see them. Hear their heartbeat.”

Ilya tried to wrap his mind around that, voice soft and awed, “What did they look like?”

Shane tucked his head against Ilya’s shoulder, in the place where it always fit just right, like they had been made to hold each other, “Perfect. They look perfect, Ilya.”

“Of course they do,” a laugh burst out of his chest, “They’re ours.”

Shane stilled a little, like he couldn’t let himself believe what he’d just heard. He pulled back just enough to search Ilya’s face.

“Ours? You mean…you mean you want to…”

The answer came without any hesitation, starting Ilya with how deeply he could know something, enough to rattle his bones.

“If you are doing this, Shane, you will be doing it with me by your side,” Ilya held him at the hips, keeping them joined, “That’s a promise.”

Shane’s smile was like the sun rising, “God, Ilya…”

“Of course, if you don’t want to have this pup, I’d never force you,” Ilya had to add, just before he let himself start to believe this was happening, “I mean, fuck, it’s asking so much of you Shane…”

“I know,” his voice trembled, just a little, but his jaw was firmly set, “And they’re worth it. This is worth it. I’m sorry it took me so long to realise that, Ilya, I just…I never imagined I’d find something I cared about more than playing hockey, I was scared to step back from it. But here I am.”

Ilya felt tears rolling down his own face but, for once, he didn’t try to hide them, “Here we are.”

Shane let his head fall forward, resting on Ilya’s chest right where his crucifix lay, “God…I was so fucking scared, Ilya…”

He tightened his arms around his shoulders, “Well now we can be fucking scared together, yes?”

That made Shane laugh, “I like that a lot better…still need to find a professional team who's willing to be the first in the league to publicly put an omega on their roster…”

Shane’s voice was bleak, showing exactly how likely he thought that would be, a little easier than trying to play the game standing on his head. But Ilya was thinking about Coach Wiebe’s hand on his arm as he told him that Shane was asking for him, about Troy Barrett reminding him what Shane would want, about Hayes’ sympathetic eyes and Harris proudly displaying his bond mark when it was still so hard for queer men to do that in hockey. And Ilya felt something click into place.

“I think I might know one,” he murmured against Shane’s soft hair, feeling that grin return to his face, the one that had been making opposing teams groan his whole life, the one that said Ilya Rozanov had decided how the next sixty minutes would play out and it would end with him winning.

Shane drew back, not even needing to ask, the two of them had been virtually telepathic their whole careers even if they had used it mostly to provoke each other, “You really think they’d take me on?”

“I think it’s about damn time we played on the same team,” Ilya stroked his thumb gently across Shane’s cheek, “Let me talk to Coach.”

Shane still looked anxious but he clearly pushed it away, leaning into Ilya’s hand and focusing on that, “I love you…”

“I love you too,” Ilya let his free hand trail down to rest on Shane’s stomach, feeling something almost like a spark against his fingers, “I love both of you.”

It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, nothing but darkness below them. It was so easy to flinch back, to feel that sick dizziness in the pit of his stomach and have his muscles say no, absolutely no fucking way. But as Shane pulled him down into a kiss, Ilya realised it was okay not to know what was down there, it was okay to not know if he was ready.

Because with Shane in his arms and the life they’d made together under his hand, Ilya could believe that it was going to be something really, really good.

About to play, I hope we make him proud, you will anyway

Ilya knew where he would find the newest member of the Ottawa Centaurs an hour before their first game of the season. The two newest members actually, if the outfits were anything to go by.

“God, your mom’s taking this seriously, huh?” Ilya laughed, coming to join Shane where he and their son were sitting on the bench closest to the ice.

“Surprising absolutely no one,” Shane remarked, “Here, you hold him, I’ve been hogging all the cuddles.”

“You have and it will not be forgiven…”

It would never stop astounding Ilya how easily his arms moved to hold his baby son, instincts he’d thought he’d never been born with or had been beaten out of him spluttering to life the moment he heard he was going to be a father. He’d been so scared, more scared than he could admit to Shane until he’d done a few sessions with his therapist. How could he be a decent father when he’d never known one himself?

But then he held his son for the first time and the truth had become clear. He would do it by having the one thing his father had lacked. He would love his little boy with every atom in his body and work the rest out from there.

It helped that Alexi Ilyanovich Hollander was one of the most adorable things Ilya had ever seen. Even more so when he was decked out in Centaurs gear, made adorably small to fit an almost one year old.

“Who's going out tonight, huh, me or you?” Ilya cooed, kissing his round cheeks, laughing as his son took eager fistfuls of his curls.

“Alexi might have more consistent assists…” Shane hummed mildly, beaming as he watched the two of them.

“Fuck you,” Ilya shot back, only just remembering to cover his son’s ears before he did.

Though it gave him some hope to hear Shane trying to rile him up, he knew how nervous his mate was. Nervous enough to be sat here in the empty stands, watching the Zamboni chug over the ice, while the rest of the Centaurs were getting riled up in the changing room. It was just so many firsts piled on top of each other, the first game of the season, first with a brand new team, first after coming back from paternity leave. First after the world found out he was an omega. First with more pressure, more expectation, more eyes waiting for him to fail than Shane had ever known.

Ilya reached out and slid an arm around his mate’s shoulders, “Hey. I’m here if you need to talk.”

Shane’s eyes softened, heartbreakingly grateful. But he only leaned into Ilya’s shoulder, reaching over to stroke through Alexi’s soft dark hair, so like his own.

“Thanks but you’ve listened to me ramble enough, I think…I think I just need to play.”

Shane Hollander really was the bravest person Ilya had ever known.

“At least you’ll have one person in the stands who’ll love you no matter how tonight goes,” he reminded him, bouncing Alexi until he gave a burbling giggle that Ilya would never get tired of hearing, “And your mom, I guess, seeing as she’ll be holding him.”

Shane chuckled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the top of their son’s head, his voice soft, “I just want to win and make him proud…”

Ilya squeezed his shoulder, “Moya milaya…you don’t need to win to make him proud, or any of us. You’re doing it just by going out there. By being who you are.”

Shane pressed his face against Ilya’s neck for a second, inhaling deeply like he was drawing some kind of strength just from the scent of him. Ilya’s heart thudded in his chest.

“Thank you,” Shane smiled, “Guess I’d better go get ready…”

“And we’ll drop the Centaurs’ number one fan off with his grandmother,” Ilya nodded, standing with him, keeping Alexi cuddled in against his chest, wondering if he could hear how hard his papa’s heart was beating as the excitement built in him.

Though there was one thing he needed to be certain of, one thing that had been worrying him more than Shane.

“Just promise me something,” he nudged his mate with his shoulder.

“Sure?” Shane paused, tilting his head.

“Promise me you’ll be careful. I know you feel like you’ve got to prove something tonight but the only thing I care about is you walking off the ice on your own two feet. So please try and take it easy, okay?”

Shane’s jaw tensed slightly, Ilya’s protectiveness had strayed too far at times during his pregnancy, they’d had their fair share of arguments about it. But it eased after a moment, replaced by a soft, understanding smile.

“I won’t put you through that again, Ilya. I promise, I’ll be careful.”

Ilya was pretty sure he’d spoken perfect English, nice and clearly, easy for Shane to understand.

And yet, about five minutes into the game, he found himself crashing into the boards along with Shane after his mate pulled a risky maneuver around an Admirals’ defenseman that didn’t go as planned. At least Ilya took most of the hit.

He grunted, feeling those same old injuries light up though there seemed to be more joining them this time, “Jesus. This is your idea of taking it easy, Hollander?”

“I would be if that asshole hadn’t barged me!” Shane shook himself, his frustration easing as he looked up at Ilya, “You okay? Sorry, I didn’t see how close you were…”

Ilya had actually been shadowing him as close as possible, ready to throw himself between Shane and any incoming check. But admitting that would start another argument about overprotectiveness so he chose not to mention that.

“I’m never going to complain about being close to you, moy lyubimyy,” Ilya smiled wryly, “But we can beat these idiots without you getting another concussion.”

Shane rolled his eyes, pushing himself off Ilya’s chest, “I know, I know. I’ll be careful.”

“Sure you will,” Ilya grinned, not believing that for a moment, “Now lets send these fuckers back to New York.”

And by the time the final whistle blew, they’d done just that, though it was still enough of a fight to be fun. During the handshakes, Ilya caught a glimpse of Scott Hunter lingering over Shane’s, smiling and seeming to congratulate him. Shane blushed and instinctively touched the still fairly fresh bond mark on his collar, the way he always did whenever anyone mentioned it. Like he was checking it really was there.

Ilya had wanted to wait before he asked him, thinking that pregnancy and getting back on the ice were more than enough to ask of Shane’s body. But, like most things he planned, it went wrong. He’d ended up blurting out his proposal while Shane had been in the middle of labour, getting slightly over emotional. Not exactly the romantic setting Ilya been hoping for but Shane had been happy to accept, once he’d stopped laughing at him. And seeing that mark did give him a warm sense of pride, the knowledge that everyone in the whole stadium knew that Shane Hollander was his.

Of course when Scott Hunter got to Ilya, he just glared and throttled his fingers. But he deserved that.

The two of them lingered behind their teammates, finding each other on center ice like they knew this moment was one they’d want to keep. Shane was bright eyed, his hair swept into madness by the helmet now dangling from one hand, his cheeks flushed with effort and the widest smile on his face. He looked proud of himself, just as he damn well should.

“God I want to kiss you,” Ilya purred, admiring his bold, beautiful mate.

“We’re supposed to be careful about that kind of thing too…” Shane reminded him, though nothing on his face matched his words.

“Mm,” Ilya smirked, “I think I’m done being careful about that.”

“Thank god,” Shane groaned, already moving to meet him in a fierce kiss.

People were filling out after the game, they didn’t have quite as big an audience as Ilya was hoping for. But this wouldn’t be the last time they did this.

Ilya Rozanov would take every opportunity to show the world exactly what Shane Hollander meant to him.

#hollanov #shane hollander #ilya rozanov #game changer #heated rivalry #please reblog and comment!

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spacedoutman · 7 months ago

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𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩?

(𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3)

Chapter description: Gene remembered getting butterflies in his stomach for Ace even when they were best friends as children. Ace, now the pastor, still suffers from anger issues and now an alcohol problem he's trying to keep secret, just like his violent passion for Gene. When a strange figure makes its way into Gene's life, Gene starts to think Ace feels nothing for him. Can Ace say something before Gene leaves? Or will he burn down the whole town with them and possibly himself?

♥ Ace Frehley x Gene Simmons | ♥ Vinnie Vincent x Gene Simmons

Warnings:

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair now!” Vinnie chirped, pouring enthusiasm. “I’ll see you around-”

Gene shifted. “Uh, wait.” Gene mumbled. Light blasted in Vinnie’s eyes. He perked up quickly.

“What is it?” He cocked his brow. “I don’t uh.. have a schedule—really, so I have a lot of time.”

“Does he get along with other horses?”

Vinnie replied with a dramatic shrug. He pursed his lips. His eyes trailed off to the sky before he gasped sharply. He gazed back at Gene. “He’ll be ok. He just pretends to not understand. He does, trust me.” Vinnie chortled. Gene held his breath. Sweat soaked the back of his neck. Vinnie leaned over, kissing the horse’s muzzle. “Isn’t that right?” He made a baby voice. The horse stared ahead.

Anything Gene could’ve said drained like a pool. He slowly nodded. Vinnie giggled happily. His hand jutted out. His grip loosened around the reins. Gene wrapped his shaking hands around them. Vinnie dropped them. He balled up Gene’s fingers and skipped back.

“Well, I’ll see you around!” He bubbled, fixing his hat. “Have a good time, Gene! And make sure Perry knows how much I’ll miss him.”

Gene nodded.

Vinnie whipped around on his heel before skipping off. Gene leaned over, watching as Vinnie pranced down the road. The morning light . ‘Is he going to disappear yet?’ Gene thought to himself. Gene’s jaw dropped when Vinnie actually walked out of sight. His throat tightened.

Gene stood back to calm his racing heart. He clutched his chest.

Gene remembered Biscuit, his own horse. Biscuit played hop-scotch when Gene tried to saddle him or wedge himself all the way against the aged stable wall, making it creak as Gene slumped over with the hoof-pick. Yet, Perry stood, glaring straight on. Gene’s heart sank. Fifteen minutes sharp. Gene lead Perry out the door.

The birds fluttered through the vibrant blue sky; a couple clouds floated. Perry’s hooves clattered against the road like drumbeats. Gene’s eyes locked between Perry’s ears, stuck wide since he’d left. Before he could count to ten, Perry drifted down the street—at least Gene did. He glanced down, patting Perry’s shoulder when he realized he was still there.

The middle of May crept up on Gene and by now, the horse did too. Taking care of him was almost like a pet rock. It stared. Grayish purple dyed the mountains black. Gene leaned up. He sighed. His mouth dried. Gravel crunched, ringing around Gene’s skull. He clicked his mouth. Perry trotted down the path.

“Great job, Perry.” He mumbled. “… You’re.. you’re doing wonderfully.” A slight shake riddled his voice.

The snow-white house went from a stain to a palace in what felt like hours. Gene slid off Perry and tied him up. He stuck his hands in his coat. “I hope you can stay warm out here.” He murmured. Perry’s black eyes hit his. Gene’s gaze retreated. A knot formed in his throat. “I’ll be back.”

Gene turned and walked. His feet heavied. He glanced over his shoulder. Perry stared. A couple horses in the pasture behind him down the hill joined in. Gene held his breath. He sped up. His shoes clicked quietly on the cobblestone path. He climbed the polished oak stairs, his heart fluttering. A grin tugged at his lips. He skipped over and knocked.

Warm light crawled from the crack as the door eased open, only enough to stick a hand through. Gene stepped back. Ace swung it open. Lemony, savory smells whistled through Gene’s nose, spinning his brain like a lover as they waltzed. He melted. Ace smiled. He wore a dusty blue shirt. The pearl buttons glistened in the dim moonlight.

He looked Gene up and down. Gene leaned closer.

“Good seeing you.” Ace said, frowning a little. “I was actually thinking about you for awhile today, wondering when you’d drop by.” He complained?

Gene twirled his hair around his finger. Ace’s dull eyes locked on Gene’s. Gene froze, melting slowly into his shoes. Ace half-smiled.

“Yeah..” Gene’s eyes followed his lips. “Something crazy happened.”

Ace brightened up. “Oh really?!” He exclaimed. “Why don’t you tell me about it?’

Later

“And then he gave me the reins.. l-looked at me.. and told me he’d get out of my hair.” Gene counted harshly one his fingers, furrowing his brows.

A woman, running through a garden, rosy-cheeked and smiling over her shoulder met his eyes from a painting. The flowers around her matched her flowing pink dress. A man in dusty red peeked from behind a white gazebo.

Warmth enveloped Gene as Ace laid a hand on his shoulder. Gene couldn’t help but to grin. He slowly looked up. Ace smiled, patting him. “What a story.” Ace tiredly mumbled under his breath.

“I think so.” Gene said softly.

Ace sighed. He sat back, setting his hand on his chest. The velvet couch hugged them like an old friend. Ace tossed one leg over the other. He sighed a little sharply, staring at the Turkish-patterned carpet. “I’d been waiting for you all week.”

Gene’s mouth opened. His heart froze. He looked down, his eyes scanning nothing. “.. You told me you’d be busy.” He hesitated. “You never, you know, got back to me about when you’d be free.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Well, I’m pretty lonely, Gene. My job has never been easy. But you make it a little easier.”

Photo cred:

Note: I completely lost track of where I wanted this fic to go for a hot second but then I remembered lol also I forget a whole day went past and I forgot to update this one along with the two yesterday.

ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔬3

#kiss band #kiss fanfiction #ace frehley #gene simmons #vinnie vincent #historical au #tw religious themes #fanfic #ask to tag

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feasibilities · 8 months ago

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Gumshoe in Grosse Pointe | Neil Lewis x Lisbon Sister!Reader (Part 2)

Synopsis: The last survivor of the Lisbon Sisters reconnects with an old friend and navigates grief. Warnings: Angst, Controlling Behavior, Grief, Mentions of Suicide, Ostracization, Friends to Lovers, Swearing Author's Note: The long-awaited second portion of this story. Thank you again to @everandforeveryours for giving me this idea. Enjoy!

Neil practically sprinted to the door when he heard you knocking. His heart fluttered when you gave him a hug and lingered for a moment. You tried to ignore the comfort you felt in his arms. He was surprised to see a gold stud piercing in your nose.

“Nose piercing and highlights?” Neil quipped, closing the door behind you.

“And a few more things!” You joked as Neil turned bright red once more. You examined your surroundings as he unpacked the bag of food.

“Everything looks the same.” You said softly, looking at the pictures on the wall. You saw a picture of your sisters and took the frame in your hands. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and watched you intently. You smiled to yourself and hung it back on the wall.

“Do you have a copy of The Misfits? It’s my comfort movie.” You asked.

“Of course! Just lemme look for it...” He said, rummaging through his box of VHS tapes. You sat on the couch and watched him intently. You realized Neil was very much a man and an attractive one. However, you didn’t want to break his heart if you couldn’t commit. After putting in the tape, he plopped down next to you.

Hours passed by as you two watched countless movies. By the time you two finished, empty takeout and snack boxes littered Neil’s coffee table. You had fell asleep after the last movie and he laid a blanket over you. He fought to stay awake but lost to the tune of the VHS menu. In a deep sleep, you cuddled the warmest thing next to you—Neil. You two were intertwined as a couple before Neil’s alarm clock interrupted the blissful quietude. His eyes fluttered open and widened in realization when he saw you. He shook you gently to wake you.

“Mmm, can’t we stay in bed?” You murmured sleepily, keeping your eyes closed. Sitting up, he smiled to himself and shook you again. You huffed and looked up at him. You hastily got up from the couch and nervously picked at your fingers.

“Sorry about that. I thought you were…” You stalled, thinking of your ex-boyfriend from college.

“It’s all good. That’s the best sleep I’ve had in years.” He laughed, starting to clean off the coffee table. You playfully rolled your eyes and began putting his VHS tapes away.

“Do you have work today?” You asked.

“No, why?” He replied curiously.

“May I pack a bag and stay another night?” You inquired shyly. Neil could barely contain his excitement.

“Of course you can. We’ll have to stop by the grocery store. I didn’t know you could eat this much.” He jested.

“Whatever, you ate just as much as me!” You exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. He watched as you walked across the street and disappeared into your house. Neil was overjoyed to have you back in his life despite everything that’s happened.

—

“This store is so much bigger than I remember…” You said, looking at the seemingly endless aisles of foodstuff and other products.

“They expanded it little by little over the years. I can’t stuff candy in my pockets and walk out without getting caught nowadays.” Neil joked.

“I was too much of a goody two-shoes to pull any stunts like that.” You said. You saw your favorite box of cookies on the top shelf and Neil saw your eyes light up. You stood on your tiptoes to reach it but to no avail. Your fingertips seem to push the box further back. After enjoying the view for a bit, he got the box and put it in the cart.

“Glad you were quick to help, asshole.” You said sarcastically.

“Ms. Goody two-shoes likes to swear now?” He laughed.

“Whatever, I’ll get the frozen stuff. You get the pantry items. I’ll be back!” You replied, grabbing an extra shopping basket.

As Neil’s cart filled with an assortment of items, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. He wondered if you were playing a practical on him. Suddenly, a beautiful woman appeared in front of him and blocked him from moving—his heart nearly stopped.

“Who are you?” She asked flippantly.

“I should ask you the same thing. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He countered, holding his chest.

“Violet. We should go out sometime.” She proclaimed.

“Do you scare the crap out of all your dates?” Neil said, raising his eyebrows.

“No, just you. You’re special.” She smiled, handing him a piece of pink stationary with her number scribbled on it. She seemed to leave as quickly as she appeared. Neil was intrigued yet frightened by Violet’s unconventional methods and zany personality. He wasn’t sure if you would ever be more than a friend so he decided to give it a try. That did little to shake the feeling that he was betraying you. Hearing your whistling from behind him, he shoved the note in his pocket.

“I got all of your frozen goods. You need to eat more vegetables so I got some of those.” You scolded playfully.

“Thanks.” He said, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, noticing a change in his mood.

“Nothing, just a bit tired, that’s all.” He murmured. You gave him a bear hug and refused to let go until you heard him laugh. Arriving back at Neil’s house, he cooked you dinner. He was still a bit frazzled from the encounter with Violet and felt obliged to call her sooner rather than later. However, he wanted to enjoy his time with you.

“I have something to give you.” Neil said, pausing the movie. He opened the door of his breakfront to pull out a baby blue lock box. He sat next to you and unlocked it slowly.

“I never thought I would see you again but I kept all of these just in case.” He explained. You looked through the box to find letters from your sisters, photos that you took as children, and the letter you wrote to Neil the night before the tragedy. Tears were already streaming down your face when he embraced you. He placed a comforting kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you.” You choked between restrained sobs. There was something cathartic about this particular moment. You truly understood that you had a friend him.

“Can I have these?” You said softly.

“Yes, of course.” He whispered. Wiping your tears, you closed the box and took Neil’s hand in yours. He caressed your knuckles with his thumb. You kissed his cheek and lingered for a moment. Once more, Neil’s face was beet red. You unpaused the movie and laid on his shoulder.

—

Neil’s relationship with Violet began and he felt like he was no longer in control. Everything they did, watched, or ate was what she wanted. He tried to stand up for himself but was shut down each time. You noticed that Neil was coming around less and less. His daily visits to your bookstore diminished. His calls became scarce. He rarely hung out with you on the weekends. You knew that he was in a new relationship but you hoped that didn’t mean the end of your friendship. You decided to give him a call because you missed him.

“Hello?” He answered from the phone in the kitchen.

“Hi, Neil. I haven’t heard from you in a while. How are you?” You asked.

“I’m doing well. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. What about you?” He replied.

“I’m good. Um, I wanted to know if you could go to the movies with me this weekend. They’re doing a special showing of Rear Window and I know that’s one of your favorites.” You inquired, twirling the phone cord nervously.

“I’d love to. What time did you want-“ He started.

“Babe, we have plans that day, remember?” Violet interrupted, speaking loud enough for you to hear. Ending the call abruptly, you felt embarrassed for even trying. Neil felt angry at Violet’s controlling behavior but couldn’t find an escape.

As Grosse Pointe entered Fall, memories of the tragedy started to flood back. Gossip began to churn in the town once more as your presence was picked apart. Invasive questions and unsettling stares made you revert to the misanthropic recluse you once were. You only came out for work and to go to the store. Neil often watched you come and go from his window. He was worried sick but Violet ordered him to not go near you. In a free moment, he opened his front door and waved at you. You ignored him and disappeared into your home.

Neil thought of you constantly. Unbeknownst to Violet, he watched all of your favorite movies on repeat. It wasn’t like she cared for his love for film anyway. On the anniversary of the tragedy, you called in sick to work. Neil overheard a cruel rumor at the local store—a particularly rude older woman said that you planned to end your life that night. He rushed home to see you emptying your overflowing mailbox. He felt some relief but needed to speak to you in person.

Violet’s plan to ransack the rival video store was in place but his concern for you trumped everything. As the evening approached, Neil’s anxiety grew. Your house was dark from the outside. It didn’t help that all of your curtains were shut. Violet left to go to the store and insisted that Neil come 20 minutes after to avoid suspicion. Inexplicably, a framed picture of you with your sisters fell from the wall. Neil took this as a sign. He hurried to your front door and knocked frantically. When you didn’t answer, he crawled into the window on the side of the house. He called your name and searched for you. He eventually found you asleep in your bed with an empty pill bottle on the nightstand.

“No, please…” He croaked, shaking you desperately. You stirred awake and confused at a tearful Neil in your bedroom.

“What’s going on?” You asked, turning on the bedside lamp.

“Did you take all of these? We have to get you to a hospital now.” Neil said, trying to pick you up. You pushed his hands away and grabbed the bottle.

“These are antidepressants, Neil. I’m waiting on my refill.” You clarified.

“Oh. I thought you were…you know. A woman in the store said you were going to since today marks 10 years.” He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I thought about it. I don’t know why I came back in the first place. I wanted some kind of closure but everyone still hates me for making it out that night.” You lamented. He kicked off his shoes and laid next to you. His puffy, red eyes looked at you earnestly

“What do you want to do?” He asked firmly.

“I….don’t know. I want a fresh start. Maybe I need to leave again.” You murmured, feeling a lump in your throat.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll sell the house and Gumshoe Video because I’m coming with you.” He remarked. His kind words pricked your heartstrings.

“Neil, I don’t think-“ You began.

“I have loved you ever since I saw you at lunch in 5th grade. I can’t keep pretending that I’m just your friend. You mean everything to me.” He blurted. You noticed the signs but to hear this confession was spellbinding. He kissed you passionately and waited for your answer.

“I love you too.” You gushed, cradling his face. You two spent the night in each other’s arms.

The End.

#ahhh i'm really proud of this one #my writing #the virgin suicides #lisbon sisters #2000s movies #watching the detective #neil lewis x reader #grief #angst #love #film #literature #fanficiton #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction

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