#another notebook bought and scribbled into with thoughts that won’t make sense in a week

[farfromstrange]

The pain of manically planning out a new, juicy college!Matt turned ddba!Matt fic idea for the past week and then remembering I have a billion WIPs on here that I should probably finish before starting a new, big project will never not be devastating.

[mxvladdy]

i have an angst request, i guess??

could you imagine the reaction when MC and a brother are cuddling, being real sweet and tender, rubbing sensitive bits of skin ect.

MC stares off for a bit and the brother thinks they’re being nostalgic but when they ask what they’re thinking about 😘 MC just says “oh? i’m just remembering that i’m a potential food source for you guys 🙃“

~My first request! Yay!~

I hope you like it. I just picked just 3 brothers that I thought would be fun. But if you want more lemme know!

Lucifer

Quality time with him is rare. He's a busy demon after all.

But after an unsightly incident a few years back he has been trying to take some time out of the day for himself. It is also the perfect excuse to have some quality time alone with you.

He likes to have you sitting on top of him while he lounges. Your weight and heartbeat were soothing. A living noisemaker.

It has become a routine now. You come and rest with him and enjoy each other's company.

This time you were a little distant. Your eyes constantly track the motions and actions of his mouth. You seem fixated on every little thing he does. From a sip of his drink to the way he scowls while reading the evening news. You’re mesmerized by something.

He takes it as you reliving the taste and feel of his lips on yours. He'd be happy to give you a reenactment. But, when he leans in for a kiss, he senses...fear?

No. Surely you had gotten over that little mortal hurdle. For all things unholy, he hasn't even threatened you in over a year.

He'll pry, demanding a reason for your sudden apprehension. If anything to mask his own fear with righteous indignation.

When you tell him it takes a lot of effort not to laugh. It wasn't a ridiculous notion. He had indulged once or twice in his younger years-not that he would tell you. The thought had crossed his mind not that he would tell you. But really you would have been dog food before he would put any effort into it.

He'll brush your concern off. He has no interest in your flesh in such a rudimentary form. Now that pretty little soul of yours was another matter...

“You seem- distracted.” Lucifer’s purrs against your temple kissing it tenderly. His deep rumble resonates down your spine. “What are you thinking about γλυκιά μου?”  He drags a razor-sharp canine down your neck teasingly. “Something good perhaps?”  

“No, sorry.” You burrow closer to his chest. “Just had a… thought.” Lucifer’s thumb stills, halting the teasing pattern he had been tracing into your thigh. He scowls brushing his nose across the crown of your head. If you were thinking of anything other than him, then he was doing this wrong.

That thought was… offending. He had carved out a spot for you in his already ridiculous schedule, and yet you seemed miles away. Normally these precious moments were spent with you snuggling close loving his undivided attention, and him loving yours in kind.

Tonight your demeanor was so demure. You clung to him as usual, soft lips trailing down his jaw to the little sliver of exposed skin from where he had loosened his tie hours ago. But, it just felt like you were just going through the motions. “Speak.” A request and order in one.

"If given the chance, would you eat me?"

"What?" Lucifer cups the back of your head and pulls you away to make eye contact. "What?" He balks, eyes wide. His expression was completely undignified. That certainly wasn't what he was expecting.

You explain to him about a conversation you had overheard in your early days of the exchange program. For some reason, it just hit you then at the feel of his mouth on you.

"I- hmmm. Personally, I would have fed you to Cerberus. I don't particularly enjoy the taste of human flesh." He settles back into his office chair unfazed. He thought he had something to worry about. "Besides, I have come to find I like you warm and breathing." He pinches your side teasingly ready to get the evening back on track.

"Wait! You thought about it!?" His blasé tone takes you aback.

Lucifer knocks his forehead into yours with a snicker. "Not too hard. Besides you'd probably give my pups indigestion with all the trouble you’ve turned out to be."

Beelzebub

He likes to spend time with you at his favorite cafe. The one with the little tea cakes and great sandwiches.

Normally you will spend a weeknight there studying and munching together. One hand scribbling away in your notebook and the other engulfed in his large hand. By the end of the night though, you always find your legs interwoven with his and his ginger head resting on top of yours.

He is full and happy. So happy in fact, he steals a kiss, and then another.

It’s a good thing he picked a booth in the back so the rest of the cafe can ignore the couple nestled closer and closer in the back. He sneaks a few more peaks in here and there, whispering softly. It was going great until- He hadn’t expected to feel you lock up. Was it something he said?

You’re embarrassed when he pulls away and tries to brush it off. You just got swept up in some thoughts, no biggie.

He won’t pry, he gets it, it happens to him too. But, when you untangle yourself from him he has to know what’s up.

When you tell him he is distraught. Because he 100% has and probably still will eat a person. He might have munched on a witch that had pissed him off just the other day…

What he hates most is he can’t really lie and deny that he hasn’t thought about it.  

“You taste amazing.” His words ghost over your lips as he savors the sweet mix of your coffee and natural flavor. You always taste like spiced oranges and honey when your lips brush. It’s intoxicating. Suddenly the flavor of you changes, a sour note hits his tongue. You go still and look out across the small cafe.“Are you ok?”

You pull away blinking rapidly. “Yeah-sorry.” You chuckle humorlessly. “Just...had a thought.” You try to move back into his arms but he stops you.    

"What's the matter?" He tilts your chin up with a callous finger. You turn your head away and answer. "What?" He could hear you just fine. Superhuman hearing and all, but he just couldn’t comprehend what he heard.

"Do you consider me as a food?" You repeat yourself. "I know demons eat people, and like you've mentioned it before. I guess, I don't know. Shouldn't I be scared?" You've never seen a demon wilt before. Beel recoils and tucks in on himself. His hand flops down to sit on his thigh.

Of Course, he did think about it. Hell’s he had considered it. Aside from being a demon, he was the avatar of gluttony. How many nights had he laid in bed, stomach growling, and your scent filling his nose when you first arrived. Mammon had a work out the first few weeks of school dragging him away from your immediate vicinity. It was fortunate for the both of you that you had bonded so quickly or else he could have ruined everything.

His silence was enough for you to know. "Crazy how things turn out right?" You try to lighten the mood. You stroke his hair gently trying to comfort him. "Sorry, I kinda ruined date night huh?"

"No, no this is good." He chuckles rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Or I mean. We should talk about this. Before Diavolo started working on the exchange program, human souls and flesh were pretty common delicacies." Beel collects his thoughts with a sigh. “The verdict didn’t go over well at first. I wasn’t too happy either if I’m being honest. But, I’m happy he did it in the long run.” He meets your gaze with a warm smile. “You’re the kinda treat I want to enjoy for eternity.”

Asmodeus

A deviant. An absolute terror when it comes to PDA. He doesn’t care if it’s class time. If he wants to be in your lap then that's where he'll be.

He'll nuzzle the crook of your neck whenever he finds his way on to your thighs. He always has a compliment ready for you. New perfume or cologne? Is that shirt the one he bought you? He'll dote on you for hours until you are a blushing mess.

He schedules out movie nights with you. Just the two of you, some good drinks, plenty of pillows, and no bothersome brothers.

The movie he picked tonight was an oldie from the Devildom. He was feeling a little sentimental and thought you would enjoy seeing some culture. You agree, but forget one little thing.

Old Devildom culture was...pretty graphic.

Asmo doesn’t notice how your mind drifted off during the opening act. He is busy creating a new trail of hickies along your shoulder and upper arm around his pact.

He does notice when he hits the sensitive spot of your neck that normally has you squirming but-nothing. Huh? Was he losing his touch? He is usually so aware of his partner's mood. He asks what’s wrong.

Your question comes out of left field. He panics, figuring the movie wasn’t the best for this conversation. He turns it off and gives you his full attention.

Has he eaten a human or two before. Yes, back when he was young and would get swept up in the heat of the moment. Crimson was a lovely color on him.

You try to console him. Really you get it, it was an errant thought. You know he won’t eat you.

Can he still call you a snack tho?

You watch the movie in dead silence. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you figure you should probably be disturbed by what you see on screen. Were you that desensitized? Probably. Should that worry you? Maybe? You try to weigh it out in your hand. The black and white feature flashing across your eyes. You have seen worse in crappy human B rated horror movies. But, those were special effects and pints of red-colored slime and food coloring. You had a nagging suspicion that the scene in front of you was real. You glance down at the slim demon trying to fuse his body into yours. His body flickering in and out of focus in the flickering lights of the movie. You try to focus on him, his warm body nestling closer to you under the blankets. It worked for a moment before another loud roar from the screen dragged your eyes back up.

The contrast between the violence on the projector and the soft innocents of Asmodeus’s lips on the corners of yours was wild. He wasn’t even paying attention to the film. Typical. This was his normal ploy to have you all to himself. It worked though, and you loved it. Oh- You watch with wrapped attention as the human on screen was consumed both body and soul by a horde of demons.

“Is the film more magnetic than me?” Asmodeus pulls away licking his lips. His rose-colored gloss was smeared across his cheek. You shudder blinking past the sudden thought of what that soft red color also looked like.  

"Nah," You huff wrapping your arms around him to press your chest to his. He purrs practically preening from your attention. "Just thinking."

"Oh~" You can feel his playful smile stretching along your hairline. "Care to share." He nips your earlobe.

"I just, humans really are just kinda food to you guys huh?”

You’ve never seen Asmodeus move so fast before in your life. One moment he is doing his best impression of an octopus and the next he is standing several feet away from you, hands raised in a mix of shock and defense. “Where would you-” He trails off hearing the sound of violence and death behind him. “Oh Hells.” He clicks off the projector in a panic. “I am so sorry honey! I did not think that through.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Would this be an inappropriate time to say I would go straight to your thighs?”

Asmodeus snorts in the dark. “Hips more like. You are nothing but sugar and fluff.” He flips the lights back on and he comes back to kneel next to you. He cups your face. “You know I would never do that right? I can’t say I haven’t done it before but I’ve never thought that about you.”

You hum kissing his warm palm. “Should I be offended or thankful?”

He hits you playfully. “That’s not funny!” You laugh taking his light swats, grateful that the mood in the room was already lightning.  

“It is and you know it.” You scoop him back into your lap and snatch the remote up from where he had tossed it. “Come on let’s finish movie night. I’m picking the show this time.”

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Seven

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), mentions of surgical procedures, car crash, miscarriage, John Walker, slight bit of PTSD.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

As always, any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N removed her eyes from his face, listening to the story. Her forehead creased a moment as she thought about all that was said before meeting his gaze once again. A small smile curved on her lips and she leaned towards him, kissing his lips softly before pulling away slightly to look at him, “I forgive you, Bucky."

Bucky felt relief flood through him at her words, smiling down to her. He couldn’t find any words to say to her so instead he returned his arms around her body and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. Those were words Bucky had waited to hear for so long and for a while he didn’t know if he would ever hear them from Y/N. Everything seemed right in the world for now, and even though he was worried about what was written in those journals John had given her due to what Steve had said, he hoped that whatever else it was would be forgiven also.

Truth was, Y/N always had forgiven Bucky for what was said the moment she left. She knew it was from his own fears. But what had broken her heart was hidden in the pages of those journals.

Chapter seven - The truth in the writing

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be back to work until noon, but she got called in early due to an apartment fire that would lead to multiple traumas coming in meaning it was all hands on deck. Bucky watched her pack the yellow folder John had given to her last night into her backpack before taking her to the hospital. He came back to Steve’s to find him and Peggy having some coffee. Bucky grabbed himself a mug of the dark liquid before leaning against the counter, “She took the journals with her.” He said over to Steve.

Peggy narrowed her eyes as they flickered between the two, “What journals?”

Steve sighed, sitting at the dining table next to Peggy, “Y/N’s friend, that blonde guy named John, brought some of her journals that were left behind at her base camp. Says there’s everything in there.” He informed.

“Yeah, including something we don’t know about.” Bucky grumbled out, “Something that made our break-up worse than just the words that were said.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He replayed that night so many times in his head that every moment was burned into his brain and he couldn’t think of anything other than what was said before she left, “We gotta figure this out. So I can at least try to make it better after she reads whatever is in there.”

Peggy set her glass mug on the table, “Okay, then let’s walk through it.” She said helpfully, “Y/N came here that night after her shift and showed us the deployment papers with the date for her to leave set in a month, June 7th. She was so excited to tell you that she left immediately after. What happened at your house, James?”

Bucky sighs, setting his mug down on the counter to run a hand through his dark hair, “She came in all excited and jumped into my arms. Everything was fine and then she showed me the papers. We argued about it because I didn’t want her to go. I told her if she walked out those doors I wouldn’t be here waiting for her and not to come back. And then she left.” He flinched at his own words. He hated that he had said that to Y/N.

Steve leans back in his chair, “Then she came back here in tears and frantic. We tried to get her to talk to us about what happened but she just packed her bags, got in her car, and left.” He sighs, “I called her everyday for about four days until she finally picked up and told me she was fine, just needed some space, and she would be back soon. After that, I didn’t hear from her until she was deployed.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side at Steve, narrowing his eyes, “You never told me that.”

Steve scoffs slightly, “Yeah, well, you made my sister run away, we weren’t exactly on the best speaking terms, Buck.”

“So we have no idea where she was or what she was doing for a month before she was deployed?” Peggy interrupted, watching Bucky and Steve shake their heads to say no. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, “Maybe something happened in that month.”

Bucky looked over from Peggy to Steve, “What did she say while she was deployed?” He asks curiously, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Steve looked from Peggy to Bucky, picking up his mug and bringing it to his lips for a drink before setting it back down, “Y/N called me when she got to the base, told me she made it safe and she was sorry she didn’t come back before she left, that she couldn’t come back. I asked her what happened between you two and she told me what was said. I told her you didn’t mean it and to at least give you a call.” He watched Bucky’s features soften for a moment, “There were a few more phone calls. She told me what you said hurt, but that she was okay and there was another reason she couldn’t come home or talk to you. We didn’t really talk about you two after that.”

Bucky groaned slightly. What had happened? The more he thought about it the more the timeline didn’t make sense. Everything had been fine between them the days, even weeks leading up to when she ran away were fine. He sighs looking back to Steve, “I don’t know, man.” He said, “Everything was great. We made cookies together, went on rides, had a Star Wars marathon. Everything was perfect… So perfect in fact I bought a damn engagement ring.”

Steve looked at Bucky with almost fully wide eyes before looking at Peggy who was sipping her coffee avoiding eye contact, “You knew about this, Peggy?”

Peggy put her coffee down, pursing her lips a little before speaking, “Of course I knew! Who do you think had to help him pick out the damn thing?”

Steve nodded and turned his attention back to Bucky, “Wow.” He said still nodding, “Well, now I really wish things would’ve gone differently. She would’ve been so excited.” He said with a small smile towards Bucky. Steve had always trusted Bucky with Y/N. The way he treated her was like a queen.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile for a moment at Steve’s approval before it faded back into a stern line. He was going to ask Steve for help with the proposal when Bucky eventually figured out how to ask, but hadn’t gotten around to it before it all went to shit, “So nobody knows what the reason is…”

Steve nodded slowly, “Well… none of us know. But there is one person who does.”

Bucky groaned a little again and rubs his hand along his face, “God, I really hate John Walker.”

—

Y/N dealt with the wave of incoming traumas from the apartment building fire, running point on sorting patients by the degree of their injuries to create a steady flow in the operating room and emergency room. Once everything had died down, Y/N sat in the attending’s lounge eating a sandwich and starting to go through yellow folder from her backpack. There were photos of Y/N with Bucky and some of her with Steve and Peggy as well of her with John. There were also photos of her while she was deployed mostly doing silly poses in the middle of nowhere. She placed the photos back into the folder and pulled out the two notebooks next. They were leather-bound full sized journals. She opened the first one that looked just a bit more well used, figuring it was the first one. Her brow furrowed when she turned to the first page. It was dated at the top, May 15, 2019 but the rest of the page looked like the words had been gone over with permanent marker. Y/N turned to the next page and the next but for about ten pages over the next ten days from May 15th, all the words had been scribbled over with permanent marker, “Well, that’s just great.” She mutters out to herself softly, “Thanks me. Super helpful.”

Y/N finally found a page with actual words instead of just a page of black marker, the date read May 25th, 2019. It was filled with the words repeating ‘I am not my trauma.’ over and over again until the last line that read:

I’ll forget the piece that was taken away from me.

She frowned a little. What trauma did this refer to? What had happened? She turns the page quickly to read the next page.

May 26th, 2019

I leave in eleven days.

I want more than anything to call him. I don’t know what I would say. How do I explain what happened. Where do I begin?

He told me if I leave to never come back. That he won’t be waiting for me.

A part of me knows that’s a lie. I know he’d be there with open arms if he knew what happened.

I found that ring after all…

Y/N had to read the line over again a few times. Ring? There was a ring?

But how would he feel if he knew how ruined I was?

His sun swallowed into a dark pit.

He loves me. And I don’t think I’m me anymore.

Nobody wants broken things.

May 28th, 2019

I want to feel safe again.

They say writing down what I feel is going to ground me to reality. They also said I should call somebody. I can’t do that. I can’t let them know how much I hurt. I just want to run as far away as possible and that’s what I’ll do. I need to get out of here. It feels like I can’t breathe and everywhere I look I’m met with eyes filled with pity. It makes everything worse the way they look at me and stare. I get released tomorrow, I’m signing out AMA. Then it’s just nine more days. Maybe it’ll replace my trauma with a different trauma. Anything would be better than this.

I miss Bucky. I miss running my fingers through his hair and the way his stubble would brush against my skin. I miss being in his arms the most. They were so safe like nothing could ever hurt me. I wish I would’ve stayed then none of this would’ve happened. We could’ve just fought about it then go to bed and sort it out until I left. At least then I would’ve felt save and would’ve been safe.

I think the worst part about our fight was that I knew about the ring. I found it in his boxer drawer when putting away his laundry. You’d figure he would’ve picked a better hiding spot, but nope. He’s never been good at hiding things from me. I was halfway expecting him to propose when I showed him my deployment papers so we both had something to look forward to when I came back. I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he did. After all, James Buchanan Barnes is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. But that’s not what happened. And here I am stuck in pain and guilt.

Y/N shut the book when she heard someone come in, wiping away some tears she hadn’t noticed falling from her cheeks. She looks over and put on her best smile for Chief Miller, “Afternoon, Chief.”

Miller had his hands tucked in his pockets, “Everything okay, Y/N?” He asks gently, nothing the tear brimmed eyes.

Y/N nodded, keeping the same smile on her face, “Yeah, everything’s good. A friend brought me some journals to see if they’ll help me remember. It’s just confusing and a lot to read.” She said softly, “Were you looking for me?”

Miller nodded at her words, “I’m sorry, that must be hard.” He said with a reassuring smile, “I was just getting all your medical records transferred over and one was locked from a hospital in Queens. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to unlock it so we have that information on file in case it’s needed in the future.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her brow pulling together in confusion, “I don’t remember what the nature of that visit would be… Did it have a date? I can call the doctor from the hospital to get it unlocked if I know the date.”

“May 14th, 2019.” Miller replied, “The doctors name I think was Wanda Maximoff.”

Y/N nodded slowly at the date. It was the day before her journal started with the scribbled out pages. She pushed the journal into her backpack, “Thanks, Chief. I’ll give them a call.” She said with a small smile before standing and leaving the room. She found an empty office with a computer, googling the hospital in Queens and asking for Dr. Maximoff.

“This is Dr. Maximoff.” A woman with an accent said over the phone when Y/N was connected.

“Hi, this is Dr. Rogers from Brooklyn Mercy. I was calling about a locked file in my health records.”

“Oh, Y/N! How have you been? Are you back from deployment?”

“Been better… And yes, I am. I was calling because a medical report of mine from May 14, 2019 is sealed and I don’t remember the nature of the visit. I lost a lot of my memories due to an incident overseas and I’m trying to put pieces together.”

“I see.. I’m so sorry to hear that. Our hospital isn’t too far from Brooklyn Mercy, I think we should talk about this in person given the situation. I’ll drive down and meet you in about forty-five minutes, would that work?”

“That’d be perfect, thank you Dr. Maximoff.” Y/N said before enhancing goodbyes and hanging up. It felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest with how fast it was racing and she felt sick to her stomach as she tried to remember what happened. Whatever happened, it was bad enough that Dr. Maximoff was coming to tell her in person.

Y/N asked Chief Miller if he would be there when she went over the information with Maximoff, wanting some sort of support in case whatever happened was really bad. She kept adjusting herself in the chair in front of Chief Miller, nervous for whatever information was about to come out. She put on a small smile when Dr. Maximoff came into the office holding a medical file, shaking her hand and watching her take a seat in the chair next to her, “Nice to meet you again, Dr. Maximoff.”

“Oh call me Wanda. And again, I’m very sorry about your memory loss. I want to start by saying that we have support groups I can recommend after we talk about this information. Given that you don’t remember, it is possible you’ll go through all the emotions and grief again.” Wanda said before placing the file on Chief Miller’s desk and opening it slowly, “The night of May 14th, 2019 paramedics responded to an accident involving two vehicles. You were in one of them. It was determined the other driver was driving under the influence and had a large amount of alcohol in his system.”

Y/N nodded slowly, watching Wanda instead of looking at the file. Her eyes were full of kindness, even maybe a little pity, “What happened to the drunk driver?”

“He died in surgery. With the amount of alcohol in his system, the bleeding couldn’t be controlled and the damage was too severe.” Wanda said before continuing, “It was later determined that he was going forty miles per hour over the speed limit and from your statement, he was driving down the wrong side of the road with his headlights off. You didn’t see him coming until it was too late.”

“How bad was it?” Y/N asks softly, picking at her fingers nervously as she listened.

Wanda sighs, flipping through pages of the file on Chief Miller’s desk, “You sustained abdominal bleeding, two fractured ribs, and superficial lacerations that our head of plastic surgery took care of which is why there is no scarring. You made me promise not to call your emergency contacts.” Wanda paused, observing Y/N’s reaction but she was just sitting there nodding, “We took blood samples to cross match your blood so we couldn’t have to keep giving you O-negative blood. Those blood tests showed trace amounts of the hCG hormone. After we took care of the abdominal bleeding, you miscarried from stress. You didn’t know you were pregnant. You asked me to seal the records of the accident and you signed yourself out against medical advice.”

Y/N took a deep ragged breath, looking down at the floor in shock. The writings in the journal were making sense. She could hear Chief Miller and Wanda asking if she was okay but they sounded distant and like they were underwater. Flashes started coming back in her mind of that night. She was driving down the road back to her hotel she was staying at, crying and listening to sad songs on the radio when the crash happened. Y/N put her hand on her chest as her breathing became more erratic, it was like she couldn’t get enough air. She could see Wanda and Miller trying to ask if she was okay and calm her down but their voices were so different and everything around her was swaying. She remembered sitting in a hospital bed and crying over the news and the guilt she felt for leaving the safety of Bucky, “Can’t breathe…” She whispers out, trying to stand slowly from the chair. Y/N remembered the day after it happened, Wanda brought the journals to her hoping it would help to write what she was feeling since she wouldn’t contact anybody. She remembered the grief she felt as well as the shock and pain. This was the reason she didn’t come back to Bucky and avoided him, she didn’t know what to tell him. The world was swaying like she was on a boat and it felt like she was underwater, unable to get air in her lungs or hear the muffled sounds coming from Chief Miller and Wanda. She stumbled around at the room spinning, blinking rapidly before the world around her started fading to black and she fell onto the floor.

——

Steve, Peggy, and Bucky were still all trying to figure out events that lead up to Y/N running away a month before her deployment, trying to think of any clues that would help put the puzzle pieces together.

Steve’s phone starting ringing and he excused himself from the conversation to take the call, “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Doctor Miller, Chief of Surgery over at Brooklyn Mercy. Is this Steve Rogers, Y/N’s brother?”

“This is Steve. Is everything alright?” “Yes, everything is alright. I’m just giving you a call to ask you to come in. Your sister had a pretty serious panic attack and lost consciousness. I think it would be good if you came in.”

“What? Yeah, I’m on my way.” Steve said, walking back into the kitchen, “We have to go, Y/N’s been admitted to the hospital for a panic attack.”

Bucky frowns, “Probably read those damn journals.” He growled out, turning immediately and walking out the front door to his motorcycle and speeding down the road towards the hospital with Peggy and Steve right behind him in their car.

When they arrived at the hospital, Chief Miller was waiting for them at the front doors. He lead them up to the room Y/N was in where she was talking to Wanda with the door closed and crying, pulling an oxygen mask up to her mouth every so often. Bucky looked through the window to the room before noticing that none other than John Walker was standing a little bit away from the room leaning against the wall with a frown. Bucky immediately felt rage consume him, stomping over to John and pushing him against the wall, “What were in those journals?!” He yelled before landing a punch to John’s cheek.

John winced at the hit and pushed Bucky away from him, “She knew about the ring, asshole! She thought you were going to propose that night but instead you broke up with her!”

Chief Miller and Steve quickly pulled the two apart, Miller holding John back while Steve held Bucky back, “That’s not what it was about! Now knock if off before I call security.” Chief Miller said, moving to stand between the men, “Due to her privacy, I can’t tell you what it was but it wasn’t about a ring.”

“She knew about the ring?” Bucky said, wide eyed as he processed the words. No wonder she had been so mad at him and what he had said. She thought she was coming home to a potential proposal and instead he told her if she left to never come back.

Peggy had separated herself from all the testosterone and walked into the room Y/N was in, shutting the door behind her, “I’m Peggy, her sister-in-law.” She told Wanda before she took a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, gently taking her head, “Are you okay, honey?”

Y/N shook her head rapidly, keeping the oxygen mask pressed to her mouth and nose as she cried into it. She remembered the pain when Wanda had told her she miscarried and feeling alone due to the fight she had with Bucky. It was the reason she had ran- she didn’t feel like she had a home to go back to and she wouldn’t know what Bucky would think if she told him she had lost their child. All Bucky had wanted was to grow up and have a family with her and she ruined that. Her gaze set on Bucky through the window and she pulled the blanket on her legs up over her head, sobbing loudly underneath the blanket. How could she even look at him knowing what she knew now?

Wanda got up to close the blinds in the window before returning the chair placed next to the bed, “Y/N,” Wanda asks gently, reaching out a hand to rest reassuringly on Y/N’s leg over the blanket, “You’ve dealt with this pain alone for a long time and you’re going through it again like it’s fresh. You should talk to someone about it, you need support.”

Y/N pulled the blanket off her head at the sound of the blinds shutting, looking at Wanda through her blurry tear filled eyes, “I can’t…You… You tell Peggy… I can’t… I can’t.” She sobbed out, dropping the oxygen mask to her lap and putting her face in her hands.

Wanda looks over to Peggy who was eyeing her curiously, “The night of May 14th, 2019 Y/N was brought in after her car was hit by a drunk driver. We took care of all the injuries… But we found out she was about six weeks pregnant. Due to the stress of her injuries and the stress she was already under, she miscarried.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped at the news, slowly looking over to Y/N. She quickly adjusted herself on the bed to scoot closer to Y/N, pulling her into a secure hug and stroking her hair softly, “Shh… It’s okay… I’m so sorry, honey…I’m here…” She soothed gently. It all made sense of why Y/N didn’t come back before she was deployed and why she never talked to Bucky.

Eventually Wanda offered a light sedation for Y/N since she couldn’t stop crying and keep her breathing under control. Y/N drifted off to sleep from the sedative, her mind finally calming but the ache in her body didn’t fade. When she opened her eyes, it was nighttime. She looked over to the window to see Peggy and Steve talking to Wanda and Chief Miller outside of the room. Her attention was take when she felt a soft squeeze of her hand, looking over and seeing Bucky sitting in the chair staring at her with a small smile. The sight of him almost made her break again, pulling her hand out of his grasp and pulling the blanket up over her head to hide from his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky said with a small frown when she hid away from him under the blanket, “Baby, come on look at me. Talk to me.” He pleaded, trying to pull the blanket away from her face, “What happened, doll?”

Y.N eventually quit fighting the tug of war with the blanket, letting him pull it away from her face. She didn’t meet his gaze though, staring into her lap as tears started to roll down her face. She was amazed she still had any water left in her body to cry, “I can’t… You should go…”

“Fuck that, darlin. I’m not going anywhere when you’re crying.” Bucky told her, moving himself from the chair to sit by her bedside. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning close and kissing her temple softly, “Talk to me, please.”

“I can’t.” Y/N replied, still not meeting his gaze as she shook her head, “I was finally feeling like everything was right in the world… Like I was back where I belonged with you… Safe.” She took in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly, “Now, it’s just all going to be ruined again. We’ll be ruined. You’ll leave.”

Bucky’s frown deepened at her words as scenarios ran through his mind of what Y/N could be talking about, studying her features intently, “No we won’t. I told you that you are the love of my life, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that.” He told her, moving his position to take her face in his hand and forcing her to look at him, “Now talk to me.”

Y/N stared at Bucky for what felt like forever, studying his face. She wondered what would reflect back to her in his eyes when she told him. Right now his eyes were pooled with concern for her but once she would tell him, they knew that concern would leave, “The night we fought… May seventh right?” She watched him nod, “On May fourteenth I was driving and I was hit by a drunk driver. I was taken to a hospital in Queens where I was treated.” She watched the concern grow in his eyes at her words, “I didn’t know I was six weeks pregnant and I lost the baby… Our baby… I would’ve came back if I knew, never left… But after I couldn’t come back to you.”

Bucky’s mouth parted slightly at the words, his eyes moving across the features of her face watching the tears leak down her face. He hadn’t even noticed his own tears starting to fall at the news. Guilt raked through his body at the words he had said that made her leave, put her in that position to get hurt. It would have never happened if he would’ve swallowed his own fear and anger at her deployment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry, doll.” He said through his own shaky breathes, trying to control his breathing as he cried, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did this, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry.”

_____________________________________________________________Taglist: @vicmc624 @buckypops @shawnie--jo @ahahafudge @intothesoul @austynparksandpizza @stcrryslibrary

Shout out to @shawnie--jo for having a big brain and guessing correct (:

If I missed anybody on the taglist or you would like to be added, send me a quick message, comment, or ask. Thank you for the support (:

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 3

also known, in my list of docs, as “chill your chichis, luka.”

i think this might be becoming a habit

hey siri, when does a habit become a problem?

actually i don’t think i wanna know the answer to that.

Luka goes back to Tom and Sabine’s at least two more times within the week, and at least one more time after that. And every single time, the girl with the dark hair and the sketchbook and the blue, blue eyes is at the counter. Tapping that pencil, playing that tasteful music, so focused it’s almost scary. He even tries to space out his visits, just so he won’t look desperate or like he’s coming by just for her. (Even if… admittedly… part of the reason he does come by was in the hopes that she’s there.) He just happens to be, it seems, the victim of dumb good luck.

Or maybe just dumb luck.

To his credit, he carries himself pretty well whenever he talks to her. Keeps their transactions and conversations short and simple, waits for his orders in the relative quiet of the shop—mostly because he’s afraid of making a fool of himself any more than he already has. The second time, she’s already speaking with another customer; her eyes are bright, her smile just as sweet, and even though it isn’t directed at him, a part of him feels so goddamn blessed to hear her say, “Enjoy, monsieur! Have a good day!”

And then she gets to him, and her expression mellows out. “Oh, yes,” she says, her nails trailing over the spine of her trusty, mysterious sketchbook. “I remember you. What can I get for you today?”

In the moment, he doesn’t care if she doesn’t remember his name. The fact that she remembers his face is enough to quietly send him over the moon. “Just the napoleon this time,” he says, and then, after the pause when he hands her his card, “So… about that macaron.”

(He’s already kicking himself.)

The girl seems unaffected. “What macaron?”

“The first time I came,” he says. “I didn’t order one, but there was one in my box.”

“Oh, that.” She hands him back his card, along with a receipt to sign. (This time, he notices his name at the bottom.) “It was a special promo we had going. Buy five pastries, get a macaron for free.”

Luka looks up from the receipt, stomach churning, fingers twitching. “I only bought four.”

The girl seems to freeze for a moment, and this time around, the pink on her cheeks is unmistakeable. “Sorry about that, then,” she murmurs. “I guess I was just excited about it.”

It isn’t until after she’s called his name and handed him the little box, after he’s walked out of the shop with the sound of his name still ringing in his ears, that he realizes there was no promo advertised anywhere in the bakery.

It makes him consider leaving the note again.

He’s been thinking about doing it since the first day—when he was waiting for his order and minding his tongue over the music—and he still can’t tell if he regrets not doing it. He’ll be the first to admit he isn’t exactly the best at speaking words, and he’d probably make an even bigger fool of himself if he whipped out his guitar and started playing all the things he felt himself wanting to say in the moment. Like a walking anyway, here’s “Wonderwall” guy in the corner of a house party.

A note, though. That feels like a happy medium. Getting the feelings out without it being too intrusive, or too much of a sentimental tryhard. It seems more and more doable with each time he stops by. And it’s really only a matter of composing the message in his head: Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, I just wanted you to know that I think you’re pretty—

Wait, no…

I wanted you to know  that I couldn’t stop watching you that first day—

Oh, God, no. That actually is creepy.

Maybe this is a wild guess, but I think your name starts with an M because of the macaron, and there are lots of nice names that starts with the letter M, and whatever yours is, I’m sure it’s pretty—

Now it’s just getting worse. He’s not even totally sure about the letter M thing. For all he knows, it could stand for “macaron.” The literal thing he ate.

Why is this so much harder than actually talking to her? It’s supposed to be the other way around. It’s always been the other way around, no matter how much it looks like he can get away with it or cover it up.

He knows one thing for sure. He can’t leave his number on the note. Because leaving his number is effectively hitting on her, and he knows better than to hit on someone while they’re working. He heard it in a podcast once: never ask someone out if they don’t have a way to get away. Not to mention the fact that she’s there to do her job, not waste her time on people trying to chat her up and tie up the business line. He knows better. He knows better.

But something in him says that life is too short not to compliment people, genuinely. Life is too short to hold in your heart every nice thing you could say to someone—to lock it away where they’re guaranteed to never hear it. He’s told himself this, even tweeted it with slightly clammy hands right in the middle of refusing to take his own advice.

He figures it out eventually. It only takes days on end, but it comes to him as a flash just before work, the way the right melody tends to do. He scribbles it on a shred of paper from the lyric notebook he shares with Rose and stuffs it in his pocket before he can even give himself the opportunity to reread it or throw it away, and then he’s walking his bike down the gangplank of the Liberty and pedaling away like his life depends on it. Because if he doesn’t do it now, he never will. Because life is too short, and he’d like to get busy actually spending the rest of it.

Hey there. I don’t mean to intrude on your day or anything, and feel free to toss this if it makes you roll your eyes or whatever. I just wanted to tell you that your eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen. And that you’re incredibly pretty. That’s all. I hope you have a good rest of your day, because you deserve it.

--Luka

P.S. You already know my name. I hope one day I’ll get to know yours.

P.P.S. If that’s cool.

It’s the best he’s going to get. And it’s everything he can do not to write any more postscripts.

When he gets to Tom and Sabine’s, the shop is—as it has been the last few times he’s come by—empty except for the music and the girl. Except this time, she’s looking at him directly as soon as the bell over the door rings. Like she’s been expecting him. He won’t be so presumptuous about it, but he can’t help hoping that that might be the case. She looks curious at first, but then her expression melts into familiarity, and she closes her sketchbook. “Let me guess,” she says by way of greeting, already tightening up her apron and her high ponytail and tapping at the screen at the register. “A pear tart and a napoleon.”

Well, it’s better than what he thought she might say.

Luka heaves a nervous laugh as he approaches the register, but manages to say, “Just for that, I’m ordering a pain au chocolat.” If anything, he’ll give all the credit to his customer service experience. Knowing the worst of what’s happened to him is sometimes enough to remind him that he can get through a conversation, even with the bumps in the road.

The girl grins, her eyes sparkling. Just the eyes he wrote about—maybe doesn’t want to  “Oh yeah? Keeping me on my toes, huh?”

“Someone has to,” he says; he pauses to wonder why he even said that, if they’re even friendly enough that he could say something like that. If they could even technically be friends. He gets the sense, though, that the girl can’t tell what he’s thinking, which means he’s doing all right at hiding it. He reaches for his back pocket to cover it up even more, not wanting to think about how much money he’s spent here this week.

It’s when his fingers brush against the crease of the note that his stomach twists, seems to pop open and let every ounce of adrenaline spill into him. He clutches the note, too, before he can overthink giving it away—before he can regret writing it or not handing it over. He focuses on his debit card first, lets the overhead music attempt to calm him as he goes through all the motions of paying. It happens to be from one of his favorite bands—well, technically, it’s one guy with a rotation of musicians, but it’s still a band—and he finds himself tapping his sneakers to the beat, faintly humming along. She really does have good taste…

“Here,” Luka says a little too fast when she slides a paper bag across the counter. He trades it for the note, which is a little wrinkled from being in his pocket but otherwise intact. He holds his breath, meets her eyes, the blue that’s been getting to him these days. “This is for you.” A part of him wants to say, I promise it’s not my number, but even that seems like a downward spiral of bad choices. Justifications that won’t come out quite right.

Luka takes the box and turns on his heel before he can think to take it back, or before she can say no thank you. Because hearing that means insisting in return, and he doesn’t know if he has the constitution to do that when he’s never wanted to push, when it feels like his mind is swimming and his face is burning. He already knows what he’s going to post online as soon as he gets out of here and rounds the corner: “life’s too short not to tell people you think they’re pretty,” i say, choking up and bolting out of the best bakery in paris. and then, it’s official, i can never come here again. He hasn’t decided whether he wants to tack an lmao on the end of that one, or whether that would be too cynical.

But the girl doesn’t say no thank you. In fact, she doesn’t say anything at all. There’s only the crinkle of paper as she unfolds the note behind him, which makes him pause at the door. He feigns checking the time on his phone; still half an hour before he needs to report to work. Maybe if he holds out long enough, she might call out to him or something.

But what if she tosses the note after all?

But, God, what if she doesn’t?

He can’t bear to turn around.

“Marinette!” a voice calls from the back—it’s Mr. Dupain’s, gruff but hearty and adoring, the way he seems to speak to almost everyone. Luka tries not to jolt too much in surprise. “I need some help with these baguettes!”

There’s another crinkle of paper, another snap of a notebook. “I’m coming,” the girl calls back, and Luka would swear that something about her voice sounds… sweeter. Something from the sparkle of her eyes trickled in.

He smiles to himself, and pushes the door open, and tries in vain to ease the pounding of his heart.

Marinette. What a name. It’s as beautiful as her eyes. He mouths it when he has a moment alone, because saying it out loud feels a little sacred even for someone he’s only really met a few days ago, and maybe partly because if he says it once, he won’t want to stop saying it, and someone’s bound to think he’s off his rocker if they find him like that.

Marinette. Even her name sounded like it belonged to the sea. He wants to say it to the Seine, tell it a secret the way he’s done ever since he was a kid.

Instead, he plays the song from the bakery in his head again, and savors every bite of his bread, and licks the chocolate off his thumb before he dares to pull out his phone.

okay, fine. life is too short, not to tell people they’re pretty, period.

so CBG, i don’t know if you needed to hear that or something, but i can’t say i regret telling you.

[rogertaylors-lipgloss]

Love & Lasagna- Chapter One

I know I have a couple of requests waiting but those are almost finished and should be up in the next few days. I’ve had a lot going on since school let out and I got really behind in my writing. BUT I hope you guys enjoy this new series, and should be updating the others very soon. Let me know if you’d like to be added to this taglist or to my permanent taglist. 

This is a Prof!Gwilym x Reader. 

Warnings: 18+, smut, maybe some cursing, forbidden romance, unprotected sex (no glove no love, peeps)

Word Count: 4.5k+ (I can’t check for sure bc Word has decided to glitch)

It was a rainy Wednesday afternoon. Y/N tapped the end of her pencil on the table, barely paying attention to the words drifting from the professor’s lips. After a particularly grueling shift the night before at the local café she worked at, she found it increasingly difficult to stay awake. This was her favorite part of the day, her class with Dr. Lee. She was his graduate assistant, and although the freshmen in World History 101 could be a little tiresome, she loved her job. What she loved even more, however, was how close she had become to Dr. Lee. He was British and had moved to the U.S. to teach at the university she had been at since undergrad. His face was striking, with a subtly pronounced jawline covered in light stubble, and his deep, hazy blue eyes were set off by his neatly coifed brown hair. Today, his tall, slender (yet still muscular) frame was accentuated by a crisp white button-down tucked into a perfectly tailored pair of tan chinos. Even in her drowsy state, Y/N swooned internally.

Though there was always an air of professionalism between the two, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss him. She shook the thought out of her head. He may not be her professor anymore, but he was still her superior. Not to mention he was on the committee overseeing her thesis. But she couldn’t help be remember fondly the first time they graded exams together.

-----

She had been in her office after hours attempting to grade some of the 100+ papers she had stacked neatly in front of her. Gwilym had been on his way out when he heard the faint sounds of music coming from down the hall. He hadn’t expected to find you, but there you were. She startled at the sound of him knocking on the door. “What are you still doing here?”

“Uh, well, some hard-ass left a giant stack of papers here for me, so…” Gwilym laughed and her face broke into a wide, toothy smile.

“I’m sure he- or she-“ Y/N giggled. “- meant well. Maybe I could be of some assistance?”

“Well, I mean, considering you’re the hard-ass in question, I figure that would be the least you could do. Your office or mine?”

Gwilym glanced around at the small, cramped space. “Mine. Definitely”

He picked up the stack of papers while she slung her backpack over her shoulder. After locking the door, she followed him down the hallway to his office. Since he was one of the more recent professors to join the history department, he had also been stuck with a drab basement office. Y/N had been in his office many times. It was the same size as the TA office she shared, but with only one desk it was significantly more spacious. After settling into a pair of chairs, Y/N and Gwil settled in for a long night of grading. They sat in comfortable silence, interrupted every so often by exchanging jokes about some of the responses the students had left on their exams. “This one really thought Henry VIII broke with the church to marry Elizabeth I, his daughter!” The two laughed heartily and a conversation about the prevalence of royal incest ensued. The night continued on this way until Y/N had some trouble making out one of the written responses.

“Dr. Lee- “

“Gwilym.” He corrected.

“Right. Gwilym. Can you make this out by any chance? This one must think they’re a doctor.” Y/N walked over to where he was sitting, and leaned over his shoulder, placing the stapled packet within his view. His breath hitched at how close she was. She noticed but interpreted it to mean that she was crossing a line. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

“Ah, so the question is ‘what was the name of the pope who excommunicated Henry VIII,’ and they appeared to have answered incorrectly. Unfortunately, ‘that one pope dude’ is not a sufficient answer.” They laughed together again, and he handed the paper back to her.

They sat there grading for another hour, Gwilym glancing at her every so often. Her soft, Y/S/C face was framed by stunning Y/H/C hair. He had noticed it before, but only now did fully take it in. Not only was she intelligent, but she was undeniably beautiful and had a sense of humor that perfectly matched his own. When they finally called it a night, she waved goodbye as they went their separate ways. He watched longingly as she walked away, relishing the subtle swaying of her hips. Little did he know that she had fallen asleep that night touching herself to the thought of him. 

-----

Dr. Gwilym Lee glanced up at Y/N occasionally as he droned on. Y/N was a bright student. Typically attentive and engaging in class, he couldn’t help but wonder why she looked like she was going to pass out at any given moment. Sighing, he shut down the projector and dismissed the class. The other students quickly disappeared while Y/N collected her things, not noticing Dr. Lee striding towards her desk as she shoved her notebook into her bag.

“Y/N?” Her head snapped up, meeting his gaze as a deep blush rose to her cheeks. “Are you feeling quite yourself today?”

His accent never failed to make her knees weak, but she steeled herself and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry Dr. Lee, I just had a late shift last night and my car wouldn’t start when I clocked out. I had to walk all the way back to my dorm and I had barely been asleep when some idiot pulled the fire alarm. By the time they let us back inside, I had to shower and get ready for my meeting with Dr. Barnett. I know that’s not an excuse, I won’t let it happen again.”

She was so frantic that Gwilym placed a calming hand on her shoulder. Y/N’s heart fluttered at his touch. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You aren’t in trouble.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, she felt visibly more at ease. “Thank you, Dr. Lee.”

Chuckling, Gwilym gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting his arm drop. “I’ve told you, Y/N. You can call me Gwil.”

“Right, okay. Gwil.” A smile crept across her face. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Being this close to him made her nervous.

“Next time something like that happens, call me, yeah? I don’t live too far from campus and I’d rather lose a little sleep than have you walking alone at night, okay?” Her eyes widened, but she nodded.

“Do you have other classes today?” He looked at her inquisitively over the rim of his glasses. She shook her head. “Work?” She shook her head again. “Good,” he smiled. “Why don’t you try to go get a nap in, yeah? I had been hoping to discuss your thesis progress, do you think you’d be up to meeting me in my office later this afternoon? About 5-ish?”

“Sure thing, Dr.- I mean, Gwil. Sorry. I think I can manage that, Gwil.” He chuckled at her as she mentally chastised herself.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then, just make sure you get some rest first.”

Y/N made her way back to her dorm room, but instead of going inside to sleep, she was confronted with a ribbon tied to the door handle. Shit, she thought. The ribbon was the code she and her roommate, Georgie, had decided on to signify when they had a “companion.” Unfortunately for Y/N, Georgie had been using this code at least three times a week. She was still in her undergrad, and although she was always friendly, Y/N couldn’t help but wish she had forked out the extra cash for a single dorm. Or an apartment, she thought. Georgie was only 19, and at 24, Y/N felt a bit out of touch with the culture of sex and partying that Georgie had bought into.

Sighing, Y/N walked back across campus to the building that housed the history department. If she couldn’t sleep in her own bed, maybe she could at least find respite in the TA office. It was small and she shared it with about three other TAs. The office was tucked away, out of sight in the cold, dank basement, with four desks crammed tightly inside. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found it empty, the other assistants out for the day. Y/N flicked off the main light and turned on the small lamp she kept on her desk. Her desk was tucked away in the corner and covered with books for her thesis. Pushing the books to the side, she zipped up her hoodie and laid her head down on the desk. She had just started to doze off when she heard the door open.

“Y/N? I thought I told you to go home and sleep?” Y/N peered up at Gwilym, who stood in the doorway.

“You did. And I tried. Except my roommate was too busy not sleeping, if you catch my drift.”

Gwil’s cheeks flushed. “Ah, yes. Well, you should have texted me. I forgot I had to go to a departmental meeting this afternoon, so my apartment will be empty until later tonight. I could give you a key, if you’d like, that is.”

It was Y/N’s turn to blush. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be quite alright- “

“Y/N, please. I insist.” Gwilym slid his spare off of his keyring and handed it over. Y/N nervously took it. He pulled a blank piece of paper out of the printer on one of the desks and scribbled something on it before handing it to Y/N. “This is my address. Like I said, it’s pretty close to campus.”

“Thank you, Gwilym.” He nodded at her before muttering goodbye and turning to leave.

-----

Y/N soon found herself standing in front of a small stone house, glancing back down at the scrap of paper to make sure she was in the right place. This is it. She walked up the pathway and unlocked the front door. Stepping inside, Y/N walked down the short hallway to the living room. The first thing she noticed was the books. The room was small, but with a cozy feel. There was a fireplace on the center of the back wall, with a leather couch and matching chair facing towards it. On the wall behind the couch, stood four tall bookshelves overflowing with books. Upon inspection, Y/N noted that they were predominantly history-related, with a few fictional classics thrown in. They were all meticulously organized by genre, then chronologically based on the period they covered. She chuckled to herself. Typical historian. It was how her own tiny dorm-sized bookshelf was organized.

It took minimal exploring to find the bedroom, given it was the only closed-off room aside from the bathroom. Inside, she found an immaculately made bed with white sheets and a matching white down comforter. It looked so comforting and inviting that Y/N almost climbed in still wearing her jeans. Shit, my jeans, she thought. With her dorm room occupied, she hadn’t been able to snag any of her pajamas. She could always sleep in her underwear, but then what if Gwilym came home and saw her? Would that really be so bad? She shook the thought out her head and walked over to the dresser, hoping he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed something. She pulled out a long pair of oversized, plaid pajama bottoms, and a plain white undershirt. Gwilym was relatively slender, but somehow Y/N managed to fit her hips into the pants. After changing, she pulled back the comforter and dove in. It felt like a cloud to her tired body, and she buried herself under the blanket. It took mere seconds for her drift asleep.

-----

It had been a long day for Gwilym. The meeting had run late, and it was 7:45 P.M. before he finally made it back home. He could hear light snoring coming from his bedroom and opened the door slightly to get a look. Y/N was still there, fast asleep. Her hair was a disheveled mess atop her head, and her lips were parted just enough for a small bit of drool to escape. Beautiful, he thought, though he immediately felt guilty. At 29, he was only a few years older than she was, having only finished his PhD two years ago and had been lucky enough to find a position shortly after. Age, however, was not the issue. Though she was not his student, she was still his assistant. The other professors would not look favorably upon such a relationship, though he had thought about it often.

She’d been his assistant for most of those two years, and over the course of that time he had fallen hopelessly head-over-heels. They often chatted together while they graded the undergraduate students’ papers and exams and found that they both had the same dry sense of humor. He loved the way her eyes always shut when she laughed, how she tugged on her ear lobe when she was deep in thought, and so much more. Sometimes he even thought she might feel the same but had brushed the notion to the side. She would never love someone like me, he thought. Little did he know about the butterflies that plagued Y/N every time she was in the same room as him.

He gently shut the bedroom door and made his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on. As he waited for the water to heat up, he picked up one his books and settled into the leather chair. Soon after, the kettle began to whistle. Shit, he hadn’t thought about the noise that came with making tea. He silently chastised himself, hoping he hadn’t woken her. He knew how much she needed the rest.

Y/N shot up in bed at the sound of the whistle. She looked over at the clock he had on his nightstand. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. She’d been asleep for almost five hours. Hearing noises coming from the kitchen, she begrudgingly climbed out of the warm comfort of the bed.

Gwilym had taken the kettle off the heat and was digging around searching for a mug. “Gwilym?” At the sound of you voice he whipped his head around.

“Y/N. Please forgive me, I forgot how loud the kettle was.”

She rubbed her eyes, still heavy with sleep. “S’okay. It’s my fault for oversleeping.”

He glanced up and down, recognizing the clothes she was wearing as his own. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I see you made yourself at home.”

Her cheeks burned red, and she stuttered, “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to sleep in my jeans, and I couldn’t very well sleep naked- oh my god.” She didn’t think it was possible, but she felt her cheeks get even hotter when the word “naked” left her lips. “I’m so sorry, I’ll just go change and I’ll be out of your hair.”

As she turned to walk back to the bedroom, Gwilym reached out for her wrist without thinking. “Please don’t go. It’s alright, love.” It was his turn to blush. In a moment of spontaneous boldness, he commented, “Looks better on you anyways.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down to hide her smile, though it didn’t go unnoticed by Gwil. Clearing his throat, he tried to ease the awkward tension. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We never did get the chance to discuss your thesis. I’m not the best cook, but I can make a mean lasagna.”

“Anything would be better than another night of microwaved Ramen. And if I see one more Lean Cuisine I might die.”

Gwilym laughed. “Well, we mustn’t have that. God only knows where I’d be without you in class with all of those freshmen. If I hear one more question that could be answered by reading the syllabus, I WILL die.” They both giggled at that.

Y/N walked around the small kitchen island. “So, chef Gwil, how can I help?”

-----

After dividing up tasks, the two quickly completed their masterpiece and placed it in the oven. “How long do we wait?” Y/N rubbed her stomach, not realizing until just then how hungry she was.

“About forty-five minutes,” Gwil said as he set the timer on the stove. Y/N let out a groan and Gwilym laughed at her reaction. “There, there, it will pass in no time. Oh, hold on. You’ve got a bit of sauce- “

He reached over to wipe a bit of tomato sauce off of her cheek with his thumb. Her breath caught as his sudden touch. He gulped and started to pull his hand away but was surprised when Y/N placed her hand over his. He stepped closer until she could feel his breath on her forehead.

“Y/N,” he whispered. She felt a chill run down her spine.

“Gwilym.” She closed the short distance between them and pressed her lips against his. She was surprised at how soft they were and even more surprised when his hand left her cheek and slipped into her hair, pulling her closer to him. He politely swept his tongue across her bottom lip before deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth as Gwilym reached around her to lift her up, setting her down on top of the island counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He uttered between kisses.

“I think I have some idea.” She pressed her hips into his pronounced erection, and he let out a soft moan.

The t-shirt she had borrowed from him started to fall off her shoulders, and Gwilym pressed kisses to the exposed skin, working his way from her shoulders to her clavicle. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, Y/N.”

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Gwil.” She answered, her head falling back as he marked her neck.

“And I, you.” He lifted her back up, allowing her time to wrap herself around him more securely before carrying her into the bedroom. He laid her back down on the plush comforter she had been buried in not too long ago. Y/N tugged at his belt, unbuckling it quickly before plunging her hand underneath the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs. His breath caught in his throat as she palmed his bare erection. She could tell by the outline on his pants that he was large, but she never expected what she found when she finally freed him from his underwear, working her wrist up and down him in steady strokes. He moaned before pushing his pants the rest of the way down his legs before kicking them off the bed, with his shirt quickly joining them on the floor. She only paused her movements for Gwilym to pull his t-shirt over her head and stood up briefly to remove his pajama pants from her body.

She started to climb back into the bed, but Gwil stopped her gently. “Please, let me just take you in for a moment.” She blushed but complied. Gwilym had often wondered what she would look like undressed, but now that he was confronted with the reality of her standing in her underwear in his bedroom, he was speechless. She silently thanked God that she actually managed to put on a matching bra and underwear. He quietly admired the way the purple fabric contrasted with her skin, then patted the space on the bed next to him. She belly-flopped onto the bed, and he let out a loud laugh. She grinned at him before moving to straddle him. His eyes shut at the erotic feeling of his naked member brushing against the thin fabric of her panties. Putting his hands on her back, he held her in place as he moved up the bed until his back was against the headboard. He cradled her in his arms and she slowly ground her hips into his.

She could feel his erection growing harder and the neediness she felt in the pit of stomach was becoming unbearable. Sensing this, Gwilym looked into her eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want, love?” She nodded fervently. Gwil reach behind her to unhook her bra and she stood up on the bed so that he could pull her panties off easily. She sat back down next to him and let her head fall back on a pillow. Gwil positioned himself at the foot of the bed and lightly pushed her knees apart. He trailed kisses up each of her thighs before finally settling in the spot she needed him most. Her body jolted with pleasure as he attached his lips to her folds, and she absentmindedly laced her fingers tightly in his hair to hold him in place.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathed before reattaching to her clit. His name tumbled from her lips, over and over, the sound like heaven to his ears. When she moaned as two of his fingers slipped inside, he rutted his hips into the mattress for relief. “D’you like that love? Come for me, Y/N.”

He continued pumping his fingers and felt her start to tighten around them.

“I need you Gwil. All of you, please.”

God, even her whining is enticing, he thought. “Don’t worry love. This isn’t even the start of all the things I want to do to you. Want to make you feel good,” he murmured into her pelvis. “Do you think you can take one more, sweetheart?”

When Y/N nodded, Gwil carefully added a third finger and began pushing his fingers into her with more aggressive enthusiasm. She began to unravel around his unforgiving pace and felt herself tiptoe closer and closer to the edge of pure bliss. His mouth and fingers were relentless, and even as she fell over the edge, he kept up his pace until she was convulsing with the best orgasm she’d ever had. He pulled his fingers out of her, and the sight of him licking her wetness off of his fingers was almost enough to make her fall over the edge again.

Gwilym slid up the mattress until his face was level with hers. She turned and placed her hands on either side of his head before initiating another deep kiss. She pulled him until his entire body hovered over her own. His lips attached to her neck, and though she was still sensitive from her orgasm, she didn’t want to wait any longer. “Gwil,” she breath into his ear. “Please Gwil.” Her hand snaked down the length of his torso until she felt his member in her hand. He was so worked up that he bucked into her hand as she began stroking him. “You’re so needy, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Her words elicited a quiet moan from him. “You. Just you.” His lips met hers hard before he aligned himself with her entrance. He looked into her eyes once more. She nodded and he finally entered her.

Y/N had been with other men before, but none of them had even come close to filling her up as fully as Gwilym did. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he gave her a moment to adjust. After a few seconds, she pushed her hips up to meet his, silently giving him permission to begin.

He started slowly, afraid of hurting her. She felt heavenly around his cock, like she was perfectly made just for him. But she was just as needy as he was and kept bucking against him in an attempt to speed up the pace.

“So eager,” he chuckled. “Use your words, Y/N.”

“I need more of you, Gwil. God, I need more.” A moan escaped her lips at his tantalizingly slow pace, and he smirked down at her.

“All you had to was ask, my sweet, sweet girl.” He pecked her cheek before sliding his hand behind her head. He readjusted his weight and held her close as began to thrust into her with a renewed sense of purpose. He wasn’t going to last long, especially not with the cries that were flowing from her lips. She was so warm, and all she wanted, at least in that moment, was him.

When Gwilym felt her walls tighten again, his movements became more erratic.

“I’m so close, love.” He was struggling to hold back, but he knew he couldn’t for much longer.

“Me too, oh my God Gwil please. Please.” That was all it took for his hips to stutter as he released his warm, sticky fluid inside of her. The warmth the coated her walls was enough to send her tumbling back over the edge. Her vision went black and he continued moving inside her, coaxing her through the wave of pleasure that had taken over every inch of her being.

Her body trembled as she came down from her high, and though he was gentle, she cried out when finally pulled out of her. Gwilym held her tightly, steadying her as the began to come back down to earth. He sweetly kissed her temple, her nose, then her mouth. She parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. They laid there making out for short while.

Suddenly, Gwilym broke the kiss, pulling back slightly but his hand remained fully entwined in her hair.

“Y/N, I want you to know that this wasn’t just sex to me.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I know there are consequences to what I’m about to say, but I have to say it. I have been in love with you since the first night you came into my office to grade.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Gwilym.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, taking in the surprised look on his face. He hadn’t dared to hope that she would feel the same way and hearing it out loud was more than he could ever want. “How do we do this?” She asked.

“I don’t know. You only have a few months before you graduate. We just have to keep this between us until then, and maybe for a little while after to avoid suspicion of foul play.”

Y/N didn’t like keeping secrets but knew that in this case she’d have no choice but to make an exception. “What about my thesis?”

“Well, we’ll just have to continue as normal. It would look odd if I suddenly resigned from the committee.”

Y/N nodded, and Gwilym pressed a knowing kiss to her temple. “I know this is difficult,” he said. “But I love you and I want to be with you. It will be okay, Y/N. No matter what happens, you will always have me.”

She smiled, and then jumped up out of the bed. Panicked, she looked at Gwilym and shouted, “THE LASAGNA!”

Permanent Taglist: @disasterdeacy

[atmilliways]

Are you still doing the prompt thing? If so can you do 46 please?

I am always and forever doing the prompt thing, gentle reader. Sorry for taking so long. 

(prompt meme)

This one is “Nathan, baby.” I’ve actually written something for this before, which you can read here if you like, but here’s something fresh off the top of my brain as well. In other news, this was originally going to be a different pairing, but it, ah… took a turn. In other other news, Skwisgaar is a sex addict and no one is surprised. 

–

When Toki first joined the band, they all figured he was the youngest out of all five of them. He was scrawny, kind of high-voiced, and relentlessly optimistic. It was the natural assumption. Even Toki had thought that. Then it came out — at some point after their new manager had tracked down Toki’s birth certificate and obtained things like a work visa and valid passport on his behalf — that he was born in late March. Which would have been fine. Except… Nathan had been born in May. Of the same year. The jokes were relentless, and there wasn’t really anywhere he could go in their shitty shared apartment to escape them. Doesch baby want hisch bottle?Mine eyes ams older then yours, can you reads what dats say to me?Dood, I’m gonna have ta see some ID before I letcha have this. Yous, kid! Gets off my lawn!You’re the youngescht, you get up and do it. So, whens am you olds enough to drink legalies?Jest call me Grandpa! … Wait, no, don’t do theat. I’m drunk. … Sonny. Nathan hadn’t wanted to strangle a group of guys to death more since he’d made the varsity football team at fourteen and the older boys had singled him out for hazing. And the most unfair part of it all was that when he confronted Offdensen — whose fault all of this obviously was — in his swanky corner office in the nice part of the business district, the guy wouldn’t let him throttle so much as one of the bastards. “We, ah, can’t afford to miss any performances this quarter,” Charles explained patiently, “and, well, giving any of your bandmates a beating might injure their arms or hands, rendering them unable to play. Crystal Mountain won’t appreciate their newest signed band having to postpone their first official tour.”Nathan growled in frustration. Charles raised an eyebrow. “I could… speak to the rest of the guys on your behalf, if you want.”“No! That’ll just make it worse.” Nathan slouched angrily into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Fuck. Who cares if I’m younger than Toki? It’s only by a month and a half, and I’ve done way more shit than that fucktard. Did you know we had to explain what sex was to him a couple weeks ago? He didn’t even know.”“I see.” Pausing only to jot down a note for later on a post-it, Charles folded his hands and regarded the frontman seriously. Which Nathan appreciated, because Charles wasn’t giving him any crap or just saying something dismissive and waving him off so he could get more work done. “Perhaps it would help to brainstorm some, ah, ways you might demonstrate that being the youngest doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be taken seriously.”Nathan blinked. “Uh… okay. Well… I’m the leader, right? Dethklok is my band.”“Yes, that’s one point,” Charles said. “But that might be a little on the abstract side. Best to play to your strengths, Nathan.” “You just told me I couldn’t punch or tackle anybody!”“First of all, not exactly. I told you not to punch and tackle your band mates in order to facilitate solving this particular problem, at least for now.” Charles inclined his head just a bit. “Secondly, that would be too easy. You are by far in the best physical condition out of anyone in Dethklok — although remind me to have a conversation with you about the results from your most recent liver panel, once this has been resolved.”Maybe it was shallow, but Nathan perked up a little at the compliment, while at the same time tuning out that bit about his liver completely. “You think so?”Charles nodded and steepled his fingers. “Absolutely. Toki is probably the next strongest, but he’s still recovering from the effects of malnutrition and a few other downsides of living on the streets.”Nathan found himself nodding in agreement. “Yeah, he keeps complaining about those rabies shots. I mean, it’s just a shot, why does he have to be such a pussy about it? I wish I were at risk for rabies, fucking brutal…” “Yes, well.” Charles gave him a perfunctory smile. “I wouldn’t know about that. But I hope this little chat has helped and that, ah, we should be able to stay on schedule for the upcoming tour?”It was pretty clear after that that Charles had work he wanted to get done, so Nathan left. He walked back to the apartment, hands in his pockets, idly mulling over some ideas for a song about getting bitten by a bat and turning into a rabid vampire while knowing he probably wouldn’t do anything with it. What Charles had said in his office had made sense to Nathan, at the time. The longer he walked, though, the more dissatisfied he felt. Advice was all well and good, and getting compliments on his physical prowess was a decent bonus, but it didn’t actually settle anything. So he couldn’t actually hurt any of the guys — that was fine, he could figure out some way around that. He just had to beat them at something. Maybe even just one of them. … Toki. Toki was new, the weak link. All Nathan had to do was prove he was the crybaby. Once was probably all it would take to cement that reputation with the rest of the guys forever. When he finally reached the apartment, he was disappointed to see that the van was gone. They’d pooled their money, back before they’d really had any, and bought one of those white vans that only perverts owned — there had been a token effort to repaint the thing black, except they’d put Murderface in charge of getting paint and he’d gotten the wrong kind, so it looked even shittier but in a dull, lumpy kind of way. But the thing still ran, on a good day, and getting it to start usually meant celebrating with a bar crawl. Which was kind of a bummer to be left out of, but Nathan figured that at least it gave him more time to come up with a plan to take Toki down a notch. Maybe if he started scribbling down ideas in his trust notebook, something good would jump out at him. When he let himself into the dingy three-bedroom, he heard something. A soft, rhythmic squeaking. Heavy breathing… Two sets of heavy breathing. Nathan rolled his eyes in annoyance. It wasn’t exactly unusual for Skwisgaar to stay home and invite a skank (or three) over for some fun while the rest of them were out, but he and Nathan shared a room. He knew from experience that whatever the guy had going on in there could take hours. Better to just barge in with his eyes screwed mostly closed to avoid seeing anything that might scar him for life, get his notebook, and get the the hell out. Ideally without tripping over any discarded granny panties like last time. Ugh. Or maybe it would be someone young and actually still hot… It was a toss-up, really. You never knew with Skwisgaar.He put one hand on the doorknob, the other over his eyes, and bellowed, “Skwisgaar, I’m coming in!”Three things happened immediately. Nathan pushed the door open with a little too much emphasis, sending it against the adjoining wall with a bang. It bounced back and he caught it with both hands to keep from getting smacked in the face. Skwisgaar, with a yell of “WAITS,” tried to jump up and lunge for the door, but got his feet tangled in the blanket. He ended up rolling off the bed and landing on the floor with a hard thud. Toki shrieked and grabbed for a pillow to hide his naked chest. For a moment, there was nothing but deep, awkward silence as Skwisgaar picked himself up and sat on the edge of the bed with the blanket covering his lap. “What…” Nathan looked back and forth between the two guitarists, before finally settling his glare on the lead. “… the FUCK, Skwisgaar! What did I fucking tell you? No screwing anyone who’s in the band! That’s how your last seven bands ended up breaking up!”“Knowds I shouldn’t had tells you dat,” the Swede grumbled under his breath. “And you!” Nathan jabbed an accusatory finger in Toki’s direction. “What the hell are you doing, covering yourself up like a damn girl? You don’t have tits!”“Sorries,” Toki squeaked. He did not release his death grip on the pillow, or lower it even slightly. Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, unconsciously mimicking something his mother had always done whenever she was particularly exasperated with him. “And god, don’t even get me started on how fucking gay this is. This is really going to fuck with the band dynamics.”“Pft, no it won’ts,” Skwisgaar said dismissively. “We’ve already beens fucking for a weeks and none of yous jackoffs notice, no big deals. Besides—” He smirked. “—I don’ts remembers no complaints to suckings yous off dat one times.”Toki’s eyes widened even further, and he stared at the frontman with a cross between nervous solidarity and mild jealousy. Through the roar of blood rushing to his face, Nathan wondered if it was possible to open your eyes so wide that your eyeballs just fell right out of their sockets. “That’s… different,” he mumbled. “We were both really drunk, so it didn’t count. And… I didn’t realize you remembered. That.” Just thinking about it, to his continued embarrassment, sent some of his blood rushing south as well. Drunk or not, that had been a pretty good night. “Well I does, so whats?” Skwisgaar shrugged, his long blond hair clinging slightly to his sweaty skin. Whatever he and Toki had been doing before Nathan had barged in, he must’ve been really into it. “You had never hads your cock sucks by a guy, and little Tokis here never hads sex with anothers porsons evers. Now you both has. No big deals, you don’t gots to be a bigs baby abouts it.”The word baby made Nathan’s eye twitch, and he was one hundred percent sure that was intentional. Part of that insight was gut instinct; the rest was the way Skwisgaar licked his plush lips and winked lasciviously. Nathan knew he was being manipulated, but it was working anyway. By the time he kicked the door closed behind him he already had his sleeveless t-shirt over his head and onto the floor. “Anyones here ever dones de threesome befores?” Skwisgaar asked with a shit-eating grin. “Noes? Well, pays attentions, school ams in session—”Nathan reached the older man’s bed and shoved him down flat on his back, landing across Toki’s lap. That took care of the leer. He straddled Skwisgaar’s hips and barely had to press down to feel his arousal pushing up beneath the blankets. Toki must have seen it too, because he let out a gasp and followed Nathan’s lead, grabbing for Skwisgaar’s wrists to pin his hands above his head. The younger guitarist looked up at Nathan with an earnest puppy dog look. He really just wanted to fit in and be accepted. Nathan, flushed with pleasure at coming out on top in this situation both literally and figuratively, magnanimously gave him a nod of approval before turning the majority of his attention back to the struggling Swede. “You’re not in charge here, Skwisgaar,” Nathan growled, putting more of his weight on him to prevent any real squirming around. He was starting to regret not taking his jeans off yet — what little movement the trapped guitarist could manage was targeted and stimulating — but there would be time for that soon. Right now he had a point to prove. In fact… He’s the weak link, Nathan realized with a feral, triumphant grin. Skwisgaar, not Toki. Of course! Offdensen had even said it, Toki would probably be among the strongest of all of them once the malnutrition wore off. Murderface was borderline scrawny but the guy bounced back from most things like a rubber ball and always had a knife on him, and Pickles was small but scrappy, and claimed to know twenty-two different ways to kill a man with a broken bottle. But Skwisgaar, his default approach to life was fucking. His libido was legendary, but it was also his weak spot. Anyone who’d ever been within fifty feet of him on the rare occasion a girl took off and left him with blue balls knew that. Making him submit would get him and Toki both to shut up about the whole baby thing, and the other two guys would get bored faster if they were the only ones making the jokes. Teeth still bared, Nathan leaned down and nipped at the pale skin connecting Skwisgaar’s neck and shoulder. He felt Skwisgaar suck in a sharp breath under him and, beneath that, Toki’s legs tensing. The kid was wound so tight that, Nathan realized belatedly, his erection was pretty much right in their faces… Time to see how far this situation could be pushed. Skwisgaar’s eyes widened as Nathan grabbed his chin between one thumb and forefinger. That other time they’d messed around, it hadn’t been anything more than straight-to-business pleasure, and he could tell Skwisgaar was wondering if some sort of kiss was about to happen. It was tempting — just to mess with him, of course, of course, what kind of guy would Nathan be if he admitted to himself that kissing was more than just a means to get ladies to agree to have sex — but no. He turned the blond’s mouth towards Toki and gruffly ordered, “Suck it.” And although Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, his pupils dilated at the command, and he did as he was told. Toki’s head hit the shitty plywood headboard with a thunk. Fuck, Nathan thought as he watched Skwisgaar go to town, rolling into the task with gusto. He really, really wishing he’d taken his jeans off earlier. Last time he hadn’t exactly been in a position to, you know, watch, but he remembered how good those lips had felt.

Nathan scrambled back up onto his knees on the edge of the bed and yanked on his zipper so hard it nearly came off, but holy shit it was a relief. For a moment he got lost in just watching and just palming himself through the front of his tented boxers, but then Toki whimpered. What a baby, Nathan thought, and that reminded him of the increasingly forgettable point of all this. He scrambled off the bed to shuck both his pants and boxers in one go, and sat next to Toki at the head of the bed. Skwisgaar was kind of in the way, but Nathan just threw his legs over the guy and used his bony-ass hip as a leg rest. Then he grabbed the rhythm guitarist’s hand and shoved it towards his cock.

The hand gripped, and Nathan groaned. In this, it seemed, Toki needed little to no instruction, presumably because he’d been practicing this particular activity on himself for longer than he’d known what to call it. No willing to be outdone, a second later Skwisgaar’s hand was there too, taking over any of Nathan’s length that needed attention. The frontman even couldn’t muster any shits to give when Toki’s head thumped down on his shoulder, mouth turning wetly against his skin to muffle the squeaky little sounds that Skwisgaar was wringing out of him, or when Skwisgaar started grinding against the backs of his thighs. It felt too good, too warm, too temporary to bother with second thoughts, and he really hadn’t ever had a threesome before.

Maybe this was something to look into doing more often… With, uh, chicks, of course. Obviously. It didn’t take long after that. Toki came with a choked cry into Nathan’s hair, his grip spasming just right to bring Nathan to the edge but disengaging as he slumped bonelessly in the other direction. Nathan growled and groped blindly until he found a handful of blonde hair and tugged Skwisgaar’s obliging mouth over to finish. He felt immensely pleased with himself for managing to turn an otherwise aggravating day around, with very little resistance or backtalk from the other two men. That was real leadership. Nathan’s last thought before he went over the edge was that if anyone was a big gay baby it was probably Skwisgaar, for being so into sucking cock. And for swallowing both times. And getting off to it into his own hand. Nathan waited a few minutes to get his breath back, then languorously got to his feet. He surveyed the battlefield of tangled sheets, strewn pillows, and sweaty, limp guitarists with a warm glow of dominance and superiority, then left without comments to take a shower. It wasn’t until he was under the hot spray and working some 2-in-1 shampoo into his hair that he realized, none of them had the excuse of alcohol to hide behind. He’d been basically sober — at least, as sober as anyone who’s breakfast had consisted of beer and potato chips could be — and he hadn’t smelled anything particularly strong on Skwisgaar or Toki’s breaths. So what did that mean? Shit, what if it happened again?After a moment of silent contemplation, Nathan shrugged and continued washing. As far as he was concerned, his problem was solved. Everyone would still be able to play for the tour, so Offdensen would be pleased, even though this probably hadn’t been what he’d had in mind when advising Nathan to use strength to his advantage. And however things went from this point, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it fuck up his band.

[stanleyuriis]

the losers club + secret santa + ugly sweaters !

the losers are in high school in this one, per usual! this was so requested oml.

-it was Eddie’s idea to do it. it was just kind of an idea that was tossed around in study hall one day and everyone seemed to love the idea

- before they started writing names and putting them in Ben’s jacket hoodie, they asked Stan if he wanted to be included and he said that he did

- Bev scribbled everyone’s names out on a piece of notebook paper and tore them into slips then crumpled them up and stuffed them into Ben’s hood, where each person would draw a name

- Bill drew Richie’s name and silently cursed

- Mike drew Stan’s name and already started to think about possible gift options

- Richie drew Eddie’s name and pumped his fists in victory

- Ben drew Bill’s name and immediately knew what he would get for him

- Stan drew Bev’s name and sighed, having no idea what to get her

- Eddie drew Mike’s name and folded the slip of paper, listing ideas off in his head

- Bev drew Ben’s name and smiled to herself

- they decided that they would exchange gifts at some sort of holiday party that they would throw together

- right after school, Ben went home and counted his money and rationed it off, calculating that he needed two more babysitting gigs to get the rest of the money for Bill’s gift, so he found two gigs right away

- Bill wandered around town for an afternoon, kicking chunks of snow in attempt to wrack his brain and going in and out of stores, but still couldn’t find a good gift for Richie

- the weekend before the party, Bev went into the music store after her shift one night and browsed through the Walkman tapes, tapping her chipped fingernail polish as she browsed. one of them caught her eye and she grinned, then purchased it without a second thought

- Mike thought about what to get for Stan for a while too, but when he saw something in a shop window as he was walking by one day after practice, he ran inside and purchased it with the couple dollars in the back of his pocket

- Richie bought Eddie’s gift the day before the party. he was walking around town with Mike and Bev when he thought of what he would get Eddie, then told them that he would catch up with them later, then sprinted in the opposite direction to pick everything up

- Eddie was out at the diner with Richie when he thought of what he would get Mike. after they ate, Eddie made Richie stay at the diner while he went and bought the gift

- Stan got his idea one day at lunch while he was sitting across from Bev. right after school he talked to the guys about it, then went into town and purchased everything with the money he earned from pet-sitting

- they decided that the holiday party would be held at Ben’s house since he lives pretty centrally to everyone. Bev came over early and helped him decorate and get snacks organized and clean up a bit.

- each person was responsible for bringing their secret santa gift as well as a food, drink, or dessert and wear an ugly christmas sweater. Stan did not own a christmas sweater of any sort, so he borrowed one of Bill’s which had little blue snowmen on it with a terrible argyle print

- Richie and Eddie made their own christmas sweaters, ironing on the most disgusting and old christmas patches they could find.

- Bill wears a blue sweater with glittery snowflakes all over it and threaded tinsel around the sleeves

- Mike’s momma made him one with his instruction to “make it look as hideous as possible” and that’s exactly what he got. she sewed bells onto the sleeves and stitched random bits of ribbon everywhere.

- Bev and Ben made theirs together as well. Bev went ham with the glitter glue and iron on patches, and Ben found a bunch of those christmas light necklaces.

- everyone tossed their gifts onto Ben’s living room table and put their food in the kitchen. Ben’s mom’s one rule was no food in the living room.

- Richie, being the human vacuum he is, ate multiples of everything until Stan finally put a cap on him because he was eating all of his favourite, Ben’s mom’s candy cane bark.

- Eddie tried to see how many pigs-in-a-blankets he could slip into Bill’s pockets before he noticed. It was nine.

- when Eddie sat down on the couch, he felt something squish in his back pockets. turns out, Bill got him back.

- they chose to start secret santa and everyone takes places on the floor or the couch

- Ben gets his gift first since he is the host

-Beverly gives him the small wrapped gift and he lights up immediately. he carefully opens it so he can save the wrapping paper for his mother so she could wrap something else with it. Once he gets the box open he pulls out a navy blue and orange paracord bracelet, handmade by Bev.

- she holds up her wrist and shows him her matching one and shoots him a wink. he puts the bracelet on immediately and he has the biggest grin and the pinkest blush.

- Stan gives Bev her gift next, and she was hoping that Stan would get her name because he always gives thoughtful gifts

- when she unwraps the box she sees it’s from the jewelry store that she stops to look in the window of, her smile grows massively.

- she opens the box and gasps, literally gasps, when she sees six charms laid out in a row in the box

- when Stan got his idea, he was staring at the chain around Bev’s neck that holds the key to her apartment. he thought that she might enjoy a little piece of each of the boys to wear around the chain and not just her key. he talked to the guys and they told him what they wanted each of their charms to be.

- Bill suggests that she should try and guess who picked what, so she does, and guesses correct each time. Richie’s choice was the small black glasses charm, for obvious reasons. Bill chose a shiny bicycle charm because of Silver, of which he still owned and could sometimes be seen riding around on. Mike picked out a delicate white daisy charm, reminding her of the one time in the summer before eighth grade that he made a daisy chain for her hair, while everyone was lounging around in the barrens. Eddie chose a tiny compass charm so that she would “never lose her way” as well as the reason that Eddie is known for his keen sense of direction, getting them out of trouble many, many times. Ben chose out a small silver heart, also for obvious reasons. Lastly, Stan picked out a small, silver hummingbird charm with a little crystal for its eye.

- Bev gave Stan and the others the biggest hug imagineable and immediately began stringing the charms on her chain.

- Mike gives Stan his gift next, which he unwraps with the intention to save the paper to use for another gift

- he immediately knows what it is by the box, and his face lights up immediately and he becomes giddy like a child

- he opens the box and yanks the new, real leather baseball glove and slips it onto his hand, pounding his fist in the center of it a few times

- he thanks Mike endlessly for the gift and is surprised that Mike remembered him mentioning it weeks and weeks ago

- for the rest of the night Stan admires the way it fits and the intricate stitching and details

- Eddie gives Mike his gift next, which Eddie is excited to see him open because of the amount of thought he put into it

- Mike unwraps the gift and is confused when he sees a nike shoe box with the size of it far to small for him. Eddie tells him to “just open it”

- inside is a long thin box containing a real, nice fountain pen, three chunky bottles of ink (one black and two purple), and a pocket sized journal.

- Mike thanks Eddie for all of this, considering he was beginning to get into writing small quotes and lines of poetry. he mentioned wishing he had a journal and a really nice pen that all of the writers seem to use in movies and books

- he opens the first page and smiles when he sees that Eddie got all of the other losers to sign their names on the first page, and in Eddie’s scratchy handwriting, he wrote “PROPERTY OF MIKE HANLON”

- Richie gives Eddie his gift next, and the second Eddie sees that his secret Santa is Richie, he narrows his eyebrows and looks hesitant.

- when Eddie opens the box and his entire expression changes. he pulls out a small corkboard and sets it in his lap, looking down at it in awe. the board is covered in polaroid photos from bev’s camera of the two of them, one of the photos is richie with his hands in a heart. it also has old movie tickets pinned to it, bits of notes written between them, and a handwritten list of songs that Richie titled “Eds Tunes”

- at the bottom of the box was a tape with all of the songs on it.

- Eddie and Richie both have massive grins on their faces for the rest of the night

- Bill gives Richie his gift next, and he is hesitant about it, afraid that Richie won’t like it

-Richie shreds the wrapping paper to get to the long box that lies beneath, and tosses it all over Stan to annoy him

- Richie opens the box and a massive, toothy smile takes his face. he jumps up so quickly that his glasses fall off. he shakes the box vigorusly until the cherry red denim jacket with a few tears on the back and sleeves falls out and onto the floor.

- he immediately puts it on and runs to the bathroom to check himself out. he runs back out and engulfs Bill in a massive hug, thanking him profusely for the jacket. Bill is just happy that he picked something good.

- lastly, Ben gives Bill his gift with a grin

- Bill opens the box and immediately lights up like a Christmas tree. “No way!” seems to be the repeated phrase as he tears open the gift

- as of late, Bill has expressed a huge liking of horror films, so Ben bought him every horror film that he could find on VHS. with each movie that Bill pulled out, he got more and more excited and when he reached the end of the box, engulfed Ben in a massive hug and thanked him.

- everyone took a few minutes to themselves to marvel over their gifts and thank their secret santa again.

-Bev looked over each of her charms again and analyzed each and every one with a smile on her face while sitting next to Ben, who admired his and Bev’s matching bracelets and asked her if she liked her gift

- Stan laid on the floor on his back beside Bill, stretching his new glove out while Bill told him about each and every horror film he got

- Richie kept taking off his jacket to look at it and hold it in his hands and fold it, then put it back on again and repeat the process

- Eddie looked over each photo on the corkboard and recalled each and every memory behind each photo, each movie ticket, and each song while sitting back to back to Mike, who looked over the contents of the Nike shoe box and conjuring up ideas of what he would write or draw. Every once and a while one of them would push against the other’s back or tickle each other’s side

- they all decided to watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation on Ben’s living room television

- Bill and Stan shared an armchair, (Stan still kept his new glove in his lap), Mike and Richie sat on the floor beside each other and Eddie sat behind them, both of his legs over Richie’s shoulders. Richie would occassionally tickle the bottom of Eddie’s foot and get himself a kick in the face. Bev and Ben also sat on the couch, Bev’s legs across Ben’s and her feet touching Eddie’s if she pointed her toes. Sometimes she would tap his sides with her toes to get a giggle out of him.

- at the end of the night, they decided to make this an annual thing and that next year, it would be at Mike’s house. they all love his mom’s cooking and the overall seclusion of his home, which was a nice change from the hustle and bustle of the town-life.

- at some point during the night, each of them looked up and over their fellow losers, thankful for each and every one of them.

again, thank you to @eddiesbadbreak and @eddiekasp for helping me with this, as usual