#I get to say I’d hit scott with my car because i’ve thought about him for 15000 billion years and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pennylanefics · 3 years

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Unknown - Isaac Lahey

a/n: this turned out a lot longer than i expected, but i’m happy with it :) super soft isaac is my weakness

•••

Scott had warned you about going out at night during a full moon. Everyone had, honestly. But people telling you what to do wasn’t how you went about life, so that’s why you found yourself running to the grocery store for some dinner.

Sure, you had things to make at home, but nothing sounded good. You let Scott know you were heading out, just so he was aware of your location. Though you were sure nothing would happen.

Strolling the many aisles of the store, you quietly hum to yourself and finally find a box of frozen toasted ravioli in the freezer section. You also grab a bag of chicken nuggets and a bag of waffle fries for more variety, and head to check out.

“What’s got you out on a full moon?” The cashier asks. You pause from getting your wallet out of your bag.

“Huh?” He laughs and scans your items.

“You gotta be careful on full moon nights in Beacon Hills. I’ve seen shit happen, and it’s not pretty.” You nod, saying nothing, getting a bad vibe from this guy. Once your things were bagged and paid for, you dart out of the store and to your car as quickly as you can.

You came to a stop at a stop light, the roads empty from any soul. As you wait for the light to turn green, something falls on top of your car. Or jumps.

The sound of whoever, or whatever, raises your anxiety, and you are too terrified to get out and look. Instead, you grab your phone and call Scott, whispering to him in case you made a sudden noise and startled whatever was outside.

“Scott?” You whisper-yell to him. “There’s something on my car.”

“Something on your car?”

“Y-yeah. On top of it. I’m at the intersection of-” You were cut off by a scream emitting from your throat as the creature broke your windshield. Your shaky hands unbuckle yourself from the seatbelt and as fast as you can, you jump out of your car and try to run away.

The wolf, as you had now determined from the sound of their growl, caught your leg and tore your jeans, their claws digging into your skin. You let out a loud scream as the pain courses through your body. The phone was still in your hand, surprisingly, so Scott heard everything.

As the wolf was beginning to tear at your back, something startled them and they ran off, leaving you bleeding out and attempting to speak to Scott.

He raced to you, though feeling the effects of the full moon, he was able to bring you to his house, where Melissa was waiting for you to tend to your wounds. The pain became too much, causing you to pass out. But Melissa monitored you the entire time.

“How are you feeling?” She asks when you finally awake the following morning. You groan and realize you’re laying on your stomach.

“Like I’ve been hit like a truck,” you moan. She chuckles and hands you a glass of water, helping you sit up. You hiss sharply as you sit on the stitches that Melissa sewed the wounds up with.

“I’d advise you to sleep on your stomach for the next few nights, at least until some of the stitches are gone. Scott is wanting you to stay here for a couple days, just so we can watch you and make sure nothing else happens.” You sigh and try to stand, but ultimately fail due to the weakness of your leg.

“Where is he?”

“At school. He didn’t want to go because he wanted to watch over you, but I made him. No use in staying around if you’re just resting.” You chuckle and sit back down, the pain slightly subsiding as you put pressure on your other leg.

“He’ll be back in a few hours. I’m sure he’s going to want to know everything that happened,” Melissa continues.

“I’m not even sure I know what happened. I mean I remember it breaking my windshield and running for my life. I didn’t even see who attacked me.” Melissa rubs your shoulder and gives you a couple painkillers to take.

“They’ll figure it out. They always do. Scott can always go to Derek to help figure it out.”

—

You were ordered to lay down for the rest of the day, per Melissa, but when Scott and Stiles returned from school, you weren’t allowed much rest.

Scott and Stiles run through the door as soon as Stiles parks his jeep. They run up to the guest room, where you are staying, and are very happy to see you awake.

“Why the hell would you go out on a full moon?!” Stiles scolds you.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, sitting up with the help of Scott. The medicine you took earlier had worn off, so Scott took some of your pain until you could comfortably sit up. You leaned against your friend while Stiles stood in front of you two.

“I don’t know who attacked me, so don’t even ask, I went out because I wanted some food to make, I was aware of my surroundings the entire time, and the wolf jumped on top of my car. I couldn’t do much, I didn’t even know what it was until it broke my windshield and I ran out.”

“I wonder if it’s one of those new wolves that Derek bit,” Stiles wonders, the wheels in his head turning.

“It doesn’t matter who it was now. (Y/N) said she didn’t see, so there’s really nothing to be done. The most important thing, though, is that she’s alive.” Stiles nods and takes a seat next to you, hugging you carefully.

A week later, you were back at school like nothing had happened, though you were still healing. Your friends weren’t able to help you throughout the entire day, but you managed. Thanks to someone.

Isaac saw you struggling to put things into your backpack from your locker after school ended one day, so he came over to help.

“Do you need someone to hold your backpack?” He asks nicely. His bright blue eyes captivated you and his smile was just as bright.

“Uh sure, thank you. I’m still recovering from an accident, so it’s still a little tough to get around.” He takes your backpack from your shoulder and holds it open for you, allowing you to stuff some books in and take some out.

“You’re Isaac, right? On the lacrosse team with Stiles and Scott?” He chuckles and zips your backpack for you.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I recognize the curly hair,” you grin glancing up at his golden locks. He blushes a little and throws the bag over his shoulder for you.

“I’ll walk you to your car, I can tell carrying it was uncomfortable.”

“Well thank you, again.”

From that moment, you and Isaac grew very close, spending lots of time together on the weekends, seeing each other every day in school, him helping you with your backpack and walking you to your car as well.

A year later, and a relationship had blossomed. Months after meeting, Isaac confessed his feelings and asked you to be his girlfriend. It was a sweet moment and Scott was so happy to hear that you two were together. He thought Isaac was great for you, after having his name cleared after his father was killed.

Thankfully, you had fully healed from your attack wounds, although they left deep scarring, you were slowly accepting that it happened, and there’s nothing to do. Isaac had been so loving and tender with them, though.

You told him the truth after a couple months of being together, that you were attacked by a werewolf. Since then, he always took time to run his fingers along them, kissing them sweetly in more intimate moments, and assuring you that they are perfect and don’t make you any less beautiful; he in fact told you they make you look even more beautiful, and it shows you’re strong.

Now, there was an alpha pack in town, looking to stir up trouble, and of course involving the pack.

It was a normal day at school, so far. During your independent study, you and Isaac offered to help your teacher get some stuff from the storage closet. She knew you were dating, so she told you, “no funny business”.

You and Isaac stood in the closet, rummaging through different boxes to find what you needed.

“Should we partake in some “funny business”?” Isaac cheekily asks. You giggle and smack his chest.

“No. As much as I would love to, she trusts us t-” Your sentence was interrupted by the door to the closet slamming shut. Isaac whips around and jiggles the handle, and when it doesn’t budge, he starts to freak out.

“Isaac, it’s okay,” you whisper, your hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“No, no, no, no,” he mumbles, running his hands through his hair in a stressful manner.

“Hey, look at me, babe,” you try to get his attention off the fact that it’s a small space. He ignores you and tries to push the door, knocking and banging on it for someone to hear.

“There’s something against it,” he breathes, shrugging his cardigan off and continuing to push on the door.

“Isaac, please calm down, it’s going to be fine.” He starts screaming and pounding on the door, slightly terrifying you. You try once more to pry him away from it, but he turns to you, eyes golden, canines on show.

You stumble back, scared of his current state.

“Babe, please, listen to my voice, Isaac!”

He growls, and fear runs through you. His claws latch onto your arm, digging into your skin. You yelp and trip over your feet, falling against the shelving.

Suddenly, the door flies open and Scott grabs Isaac by the shoulder, throwing him to the ground. He growls again as his alpha screams to anchor him. You slowly walk out of the closet, holding your wrist close to your chest.

Scott stands and comes over to make sure you’re okay, but he can tell there is something else wrong.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to do that,” Isaac whimpers, tears in his eyes. You stare down at him, nights of the attack flashing in your mind. The growl the wolf let out that night.

Isaac’s growl.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, wanting to run all the way home.

“(Y/N)?” Scott breaks you from your daze. “What’s wrong?” You try to explain it, but Isaac’s beautiful eyes stop you. He’s vulnerable at the moment, you couldn’t tell him.

“N-nothing. I’m just gonna go to the nurse,” you mumble, dashing away from the two wolves and to the nurse. They share a worried glance, but brush it off and carry on with the day.

When school ends, Isaac cautiously makes his way over to you.

“(Y/N)?” He calls out, stepping up to your locker. You don’t make eye contact with him for a moment, trying to ignore the voice in your head telling you to.

“Baby, please. I’m so sorry I hurt you, you know I didn’t mean to,” he begs. Finally, you look at him and shut your locker.

“I know. I said it was okay.”

“But you-” You walk away, events playing in your head as he yells for you. You quickly run out of the school and to your car.

Later that night, you head over to Scott’s house to talk with him.

“Hey, what’s up?” He answers the door, letting you in from the rain.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.” You two head up to his room, and for the time being, you completely forget that Isaac lives with Scott.

“Is this about earlier?” He asks.

“Yeah. I, um, I’m…”

“It’s really unlike you to be scared around Isaac. And I could smell the fear on you, it was so strong.”

“He’s the one who attacked me,” you blurt out. Scott is stunned speechless.

“Wh...How do you know?”

“His growl. It’s the same growl I heard when I was caught by him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aren’t you the one that said every wolf has a different growl? I know what I heard, and as soon as I heard his growl today, it brought me back to that night and I began to relive it and-”

“What?” A new voice makes your blood run cold. Isaac opens the door even more and steps inside. Tears were evident in his eyes and on his cheeks.

“I did it?” He breathes out, his hands shaking at the thought.

“Isaac, listen-”

“No, it’s okay,” he whimpers, leaving the room almost immediately. Scott tries to stop him, but he’s too quick.

“Should I go talk to him?” You wonder. Scott shakes his head.

“Give him some time, until he’s ready to come to terms with it.”

That day came a week later. Isaac had been avoiding you all week at school, not wanting to be reminded of what he did. But it wasn’t him, it was the full moon.

Scott had something up his sleeve, though. He asked you to meet him at his house after school, but when you arrived, he wasn’t there. Isaac had to answer the door, and had to face you by himself.

“Uh, I guess since I’m here, can we talk?” You ask him softly. He nods and lets you in. You follow him up to his room and he takes a seat on the bed.

“Isaac, I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I talked to Scott about the whole thing and he said that since it was a full moon, and your first full moon, you had no idea what you were doing. You had no recollections because it wasn’t you.”

“It was me,” he whispers. “I gave you those awful scars, I put you through so much pain, and I hate myself for it.”

“Now what happened to my scars being beautiful?” You tease, wanting to lighten the mood. Isaac surprisingly chuckles, but stops moments later.

“They are beautiful, but I put you through so much pain that night.”

“You don’t remember it, though, do you? Because if you did, as soon as you saw my scars, you would have known it was you.” He nods and stares at his hands.

“I just don’t think I can be with you and forget what happened,” he whispers. Your heart shatters at his words and you sigh.

“Please don’t do this, Isaac,” you beg softly. “I don’t blame you, I don’t hate you, I-”

“How can you sit here and look at me, and not be reminded of that night?”

“Because I love you!” He goes silent. Sure, you’ve said it before, but now, it feels different.

“I truly love you, Isaac. I may have been hurt, but I’m alive.”

“But…”

“No. I don’t care about anything else. Yeah, at first, it was hard to come to terms with, but I’m okay now.”

“I always knew there was something about you that I recognized, your scent. You smelled so familiar when we first met, but I could never figure out what it was. I even asked Derek and he had no idea. But now…”

“Hey,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks, making him look up at you. “It’s. Okay. I promise. Please believe me when I tell you that I’m not upset with you and that I don’t care that it was you.” He stares into your eyes and after a few moments, he nods. You let go of his face, but he stands up as soon as you do.

You step back a couple inches and wait for him to either say something or walk out of the room. To your surprise, he falls into your arms, pulling you close to him, and begins crying into your shoulder. His body shakes with sobs and the sounds break your heart.

“I’m so sorry, babe. I really am. I know I wasn’t aware, but I feel awful.”

“I know, Isaac. You’re okay.” His face is nuzzled in your shoulder, the tears pooling on your shirt.

“I love you so much,” he whimpers, his voice slightly strained. “I’m so sorry, I promise to never hurt you like that again.” Your hands run up and down Isaac’s back comfortingly, not saying anything else and just letting him get everything out.

“Can I stay the night with you?” You ask him when he pulls away. You knew it was a long shot and you weren’t even sure he would want you there.

“Of course, baby,” he smiles, caressing your cheek with his hand, wiping your tears away while doing so.

He pulls you over to the bed, and sits down, but before you follow him, he stops you. As tender as ever, he removes your shirt and shorts, discarding them to the side.

“Turn around,” he softly orders. You do so, facing the wall of his room. His fingers ever so gently dance across the deep scarring on your back and thigh. Quiet sniffles sound through the room as Isaac comes face to face with what he’s done, after finding out that it was him after all.

“Come lay down on your stomach,” he says this time. You wipe your tears away and climb onto the bed, your head turned to the side to watch him a little.

“So so beautiful,” he whispers, straddling your back like he is going to give you a massage. Instead, he leans down and presses his lips to the scars on your back, kissing them one by one, up until he reaches your shoulder.

“Yet so much pain,” he continues, moving down to the back of your thigh and doing the same. By now, tears were free falling down your cheeks and onto your arm.

“I already said this, but I promise to never hurt you like this again. You mean the world to me and I never want you to be in pain because of me. For the wrong reasons.” A giggle escapes your lips at his slightly sexual connotation. He flips you back around and crawls up your body to face you.

“I love you,” he tells you once more, kissing your lips as sweetly as ever and as passionately as ever. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” you confirm, bringing him back down for another kiss. “You mean the world to me as well, Isaac.”

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagines #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey x reader #daniel sharman #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years

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The Cabin - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader (Part 2/3)

Part 1

You woke up as the movie credits were scrolling. The kiddos were all still asleep strewn about the den. Looking at the clock, you realized it was about lunch time.

Walking into the kitchen, you saw Lisa sorting out the food that needed to go to the grill while one of Chris’ sisters was working on making some side dishes. “Anything I can help with?” You walked to the coffee maker to make a second cup of coffee.

“I think we’ve got everything sorted” Lisa answered. “Can you bring these out to the guys?” She was holding a large tin pan full of hot dogs, hamburgers, and veggie burgers.

“Of course.” You answered, holding your coffee in a way that let you grab the pan. “Do you mind opening the door?”

Chris’ sister hurried to the door, sliding it open.

“Thank you” you said, heading down the wooden deck to where the guys were sat by the grill.

“Look who’s awake” Chris teased, jogging to you to take the pan.

“I have to say, I needed that nap.” You laughed, following Chris to the grill.

“Are the kids still passed out?” Scott asked, watching you take a seat next to Tom. Chris started grilling the food.

“Yup” you answered. “I restarted the movie so they’d have the background noise.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom asked, seeing you were still in your fuzzy socks and sweater.

You shrugged, sipping your coffee. “I’m good for now. Anyone know what the plans are for the rest of the day?”

“Food. Probably hit the store in a bit. I think jetlag is gonna hit everyone harder than they think” Chris laughed.

“We should go get stuff for drinks after lunch” Scott suggested.

“I’m in. We should get a list from your mom of anything else she thinks we’ll need right away” you replied.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Tom asked, looking between you and Scott.

“Of course, not” you answered, shivering a bit as the cold soaked through your sweater.

“Scott, can you go grab a pan for the cooked meat” Chris asked.

“Sure thing” Scott answered, getting up.

“Can you grab the blanket by the door?” you called out as he walked towards the cabin.

“God, do I have to do everything around here” Scott teased in a dramatic voice, making the rest of you laugh.

“Would you like my jacket?” Tom asked as you took another sip of your coffee.

You turned to look at him and shook your head no, a soft smile on your face.

When your gaze lingered a bit longer than one would call socially acceptable, Tom’s cheeks turned pink. “Do I have something on my face?”

You laughed. “No, you’re just…hear me out…like, if I were to write a perfect gentleman into whatever story I’m writing…I think that’s you…you check all of the boxes.”

Tom smiled and cleared his throat. “If I may ask, is that a compliment or are you trying to gently inform me that I’m incredibly boring.”

Chris let out a loud laugh, which prompted both of you to laugh. “I meant it as the highest compliment” you assured him.

“Well, in that case, I’m extremely flattered.” Tom replied, lifting his arm and prompting you to fill the small gap between the two of you. When you’d scooted against his side, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

When Scott returned, he tossed the blanket over both of your laps, going to stand by the grill with Chris. By the way they would take turns glancing back at you and Tom, you assumed they were talking about you.

“Chris mentioned that you do some sort of writing or consulting outside of your books.” Tom said, simply wanting to get to know you better.

You laughed, knowing that it drove Chris crazy not knowing what else you did for work. “Well, that’s accurate.”

“Is it safe to assume you won’t tell me what it is?” Tom smirked.

“I mean, never say never” you replied, looking up at Tom.

“Well, if I can’t know what else you do for work, what do you do for fun?” He continued, the two of you chatting until it was time to go inside to eat.

It felt good to have the cabin full of people. Chris’ family and a few of their family friends, including you and Tom, spent the next hour eating, laughing, and telling embarrassing stories about each other as you do when you’ve got the whole family together.

You were banished from the kitchen when you’d tried to help with the dishes. “You and the boys go do your shopping, we’ll clean up” Lisa said, handing you a short list and shooing you away.

“Now I know where Chris gets his stubbornness” you teased, hearing Lisa laugh as you left the kitchen.

You climbed the stairs, stopping at Chris and Tom’s rooms, both of them sitting in Chris’ room with Scott. “You guys ready to go?”

“Just waiting for you” Scott replied.

“Let me grab my jacket and my shoes and I’ll meet you guys’ downstairs.” When you made it outside, Chris already had your SUV started, letting the heating warm up.

“Mind if I drive?” he hollered out the window.

You shook your head no, walking around to the side of the truck and climbing into the back seat next to Tom. Scott was sat up front in the passenger seat. “I’ve got the list from your mom.”

“Then we are ready to rock n roll” Chris said, looking in the various mirrors to make sure it was safe to back-up.

Chris drove around the town for a while. He drove down a few scenic roads showing Tom the beautiful landmarks. When he saw a perfect, untouched patch of snow he insisted the four of you make snow angels. Of course, he made sure to get a picture of everyone laying in their angel.

Next stop was the liquor store. You pushed the cart around with Tom as Scott and Chris added various bottles and pre-made beverages to the cart.

“Y/n!” you heard Scott call from a few aisles over.

“Yes?” you laughed, looking to see if he was going to pop around the corner.

“Do you have a beer pong table?” It was Chris’ voice you heard this time.

You and Tom laughed at the brothers. “No” you answered.

“If I had to bet, I’d say that you’re about to be the proud owner of a brand-new beer pong table.” Tom laughed, walking with you towards the front of the store.

When you rounded the corner, you saw the brothers walking towards you. Scott had a fold-up beer pong table in his hands and Chris had two cases of White Claw and a bag of red solo cups in his.

“White Claw?” you laughed.

“Less calories than beer means that I have to spend less time at the gym while I’m here.” Chris replied, putting everything in the cart. “Speaking of, Tom do you want to work out with me in the mornings?”

“Absolutely” Tom replied. “I was a bit nervous to go running with all of the ice and snow.”

“I’d be more worried about the bears” you said, watching his eyes go wide.

“Now I’m extra glad that I didn’t try to run this morning” Tom said, following you as you pushed your cart to the front of store checkout. Chris pulled his card out before you could even offer to pay.

Next stop was the grocery store.

As Chris and Scott gathered the things on their mother’s shopping list, you took Tom to the baking aisle. “You mentioned that your family bakes when everyone gets together.”

“I did.” Tom smiled as he continued. “My mother and my sisters are usually baking some sort of sweet.”

“Well…” You gestured to the various options laid out in front of you. “What do you want to bake?”

“Really?” Tom asked, looking over at you.

“We can make pretty much anything” you answered. “I mean, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no. I do.” Tom replied, swallowing back a bit of emotion. “I just…I know we really only just met so you have no way of knowing any of the craziness that has been going on in my life.”

You could sense a bit of hesitation in Tom so you reached out and grabbed one of his hands in yours.

Tom smiled, his eyes watering a touch. “And I’m not complaining, I promise you. I’m grateful that I’ve been afforded so many opportunities. I just…I only got to see my family for 4 days all last year. Home is the one place I feel like I can completely be myself and relax and…Well, when I found out I wasn’t going to see my family on the one break I have for the next three months, I didn’t expect…”

When he stopped talking, you slid your arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug.

“I apologize.” He said, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sure a simple ‘thank you’ would have been a much more eloquent response.”

You could feel a light laugh rumble in his chest. “Don’t apologize.” You loosened your arms a bit to pull back from the hug.

Tom’s arms held you against himself for a moment before letting you go. “What is your favorite thing to bake?” he asked you.

You thought for a moment before answering. “Cookies.”

“Then I’d love to bake cookies with you” he replied, turning towards the various bags of chocolate chips.

“FYI” you said, grabbing a small bag of sugar and flour.

“Yes?” he put two different types of chocolate chips in the basket.

“I think anything you say in that accent sounds eloquent.” You pushed the cart further down the aisle to grab the oil. You could hear Tom laugh behind you.

“I’ll have to remember that.”

When the four of you got back to the car, Chris recommended picking up pizza for dinner since you guys had been gone a few hours.

“Just text your mom to make sure she isn’t already working on something.” You replied

When Chris got the green light on his pizza plans from Lisa, he placed the order over the phone and you guys picked it up on the way back to the cabin.

As everybody dug into the pizza, you took your baking supplies to the kitchen to tuck them away. You wanted to make sure that no one else used them before you could bake the cookies with Tom. Deciding to catch up on your work emails, you grabbed a slice of pizza and headed upstairs to your room. Sat at your desk with your headphones blasting your favorite music, you started replying to potential project proposals and questions your publishers had about your next works.

Because of your headphones, you didn’t hear Tom walk into your room about a half hour later. As he walked up to your desk, he was calling out your name not realizing you couldn’t hear him.

Standing behind your chair, he glanced at one of your computer screens, understanding what you’d been doing since you’d disappeared. What he didn’t expect, though, was what project you were currently emailing about.

See, most of the people that knew you as an author knew you wrote books in the same category as Hunger Games or Beautiful Creatures…Well, having the ability to hide completely behind an anonymous pen name let you venture into some projects that you deemed a bit more…fun? Maybe spicy is the right word.

Feeling bad for accidentally snooping, Tom put his hand on your shoulder to get your attention, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You threw your headphones off and turned in your chair, your heart going a million miles an hour.

Tom was stood there trying not to laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

“OH, dear god” you laughed, laying your hand over your heart and leaning back in your chair. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

“I was meant to come and tell you the brothers want to play beer pong, but I think they can wait a bit longer.” Tom said with a grin on his face.

You tilted your head to the side, confused as to what Tom meant. “That sounds both ominous and sexy” you laughed.

Tom chuckled and turned your chair back to face your computer. “Mind telling me what project you’ve got coming up?”

“Now it makes more sense” you continued laughing. On your screen was the proposed cover of your new book in an email you were replying to. You leaned your chair back so you were looking at Tom upside down. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I’m a bit offended that you think I can’t” Tom answered.

“You asked for it” you replied, standing up and walking over to your door. Sliding the lock in place, you walked to your closet, turning to Tom. “You coming?”

Tom opened his mouth to speak and paused, choosing to simply nod and follow.

Walking to the back of your closet, you pushed your clothes to the side and opened another door. This was your writing room. Specifically, for your ‘adult’ books.

You’d covered the walls in inspiration, essentially. In addition to your mainstream ‘young adult’ or ‘new adult’ novels, you wrote adult books…erotica…but your books were very inclusive. They featured various orientations, gendered pairings, gender identities, ethnicities, body shapes, body sizes, and various forms of being differently abled. Your walls were covered in artwork that featured real bodies in all of their various forms.

“So, this is your secret career?” Tom asked, looking at all of the various things hung on the walls.

“One of them” you answered, opening a cabinet full of dozens of books.

As Tom sorted through them, he understood your niche. “I think this is brilliant” he said, staring at you with an eye crinkling smile.

“Thanks” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm. “I don’t know how I thought you were going to react, but that definitely wasn’t it.”

“I mean it” he replied, continuing to look at the various books. “I love storytelling. Obviously, it’s a huge reason why I pursued acting. I love literature and music and many other various forms of art but acting has been my passion for so long. It’s only now that I’m realizing how narrow of a range that I’m personally capable of expressing.”

“Hey, that’s not true” you replied.

“That came out wrong” Tom turned to you. “What I meant to say was that as an actor I will never be able to personally tell many of these stories. Sex aside, obviously.” Tom lightly laughed.

“The only reason I was able to tell a lot of them was because I talked to and got to know people that had little to no representation IN these kinds of stories.” You pulled out a box of letters and printed emails. “When I started writing these books, I wrote for women that looked like me. Bigger women are rarely cast as the romantic lead, in literature or on screen. When we are, we have to go through some stupid ‘worthless to worthy’ journey where a ‘special kind of man’ swoops in to complete us and convince us we deserve love. We’re never just allowed to happily exist AND have a happy ever after.”

When you turned to look at Tom, he caught you off guard by roughly pressing his lips against yours as his hands held either side of your face. When he pulled back, his hands lingered a moment longer. “I do apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He cleared his throat and turned back to the box you had pulled out. “Please, go on.”

You stared at him a moment longer, trying to gather your thoughts before turning back to the letters. “What I was saying before you so delightfully interrupted me…” You glanced at him, seeing him lick his bottom lip as he smiled. “Under my pen name, I run a page online. People send me their personal stories, fantasies, questions, worries…These people come in more than just various shapes and sizes. Some of them are in wheelchairs or are not as able bodied as you and me. I have a woman with Tourette’s who shares stories about her sex life and romantic life with her wife while living with her various tics. I just saw that someone started a new forum for people who have had mastectomies. When I go to write a story that represents something I can’t personally speak to, I talk to those that can. I get permission to even attempt to represent them. Sex is the easiest part of these to write. I feel responsible to do right by them and to translate the truth of their experience into a bit of romantic escapism. If they want to, everyone should be able to find characters they can relate to.”

“I think that what you’ve done is really, quite incredible.” Tom complimented you.

“Thank you” you replied, chuckling. “It’s weird getting compliments for essentially writing porn.”

Tom laughed, turning one of the books over in his hand. “Am I allowed to read any of them?”

“Go for it” you replied. “You just cannot tell Chris about any of this. At all. Pinky promise?” You extended your pinky towards Tom.

With a very serious face, Tom hooked his pinky in yours and answered. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“We should probably go downstairs. Chris and Scott are probably wondering why the hell we’re taking so long” you laughed, walking out of your writing room.

Tom turned to grab a book before following you out, closing the door on his way. “I’m going to tuck this in my bag in my room.”

“I’ll meet you down there.” When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you saw Scott and Chris practicing their aim with no beer in the cups. “Who against who?”

“Us against you two, obviously” Chris answered, Scott switching to stand on the same side of the table as Chris.

“Oh, it’s like that?” you laughed, opening two of the cans and filling your cups.

“You guys don’t stand a chance” Scott added. “Has Tom ever even played beer pong?”

“I have, actually” he answered, coming down the stairs.

“Then let’s see what you got!” Chris teased, acting like a total frat boy.

The four of you played quite a few rounds before your lack of sleep and buzz from the alcohol finally got the better of you.

“I’m calling it quits” you said, covering your mouth as you yawned.

“I should probably go to bed too since I’m setting an alarm for 6 am to go work out” Chris pouted, letting his head fall back.

“I’ll set mine as well” Tom added.

“You guys are so boring” Scott teased, starting to clean up the cups.

You grabbed the cups from yours and Tom’s side as well as all of the empty cans and started walking towards the kitchen to throw them away.

“I’ll grab those” Tom said, taking the cups from Scott and following you into the kitchen.

You dumped the cups and cans in the trash and turned to see Tom walking in with the rest of them. “Thanks.”

Tom dropped the cups into the trash and turned to you. “About earlier…”

“About that…” you smiled, half asleep and tipsy. You loosely wrapped your arms around Tom’s middle. “Want to explain yourself?”

Tom chuckled. “I think my actions were self-explanatory.” He placed one hand on your cheek, the other pushing your hair out of your face.

“I don’t know” you teased. “I think I need further explanation.”

“Explanation or demonstration?” Tom asked, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You pretended to be considering the two options for only a few seconds before his lips were against yours again.

“Y/n!” Scott called. You could hear him and Chris talking just around the corner.

You felt like two teenagers being caught by parents. You and Tom broke apart, both scrambling to be pretending to do something else. He ended up pulling the trash bag out of the bin and tying it up even though it could clearly hold more trash and you ended up unloading the dishwasher.

“What happened to going to bed?” Chris asked, confused as to why you two were doing chores.

“I’m going” you replied. “I just didn’t want your mom to have to do this in the morning.”

“Well then you should have asked for help” Chris replied, helping you finish unloading the dishes. Scott started wiping down the counters and refilled the paper towels. Tom tried to hide the smirk on his face as he took the trash to the outside bin, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m going to bed for real this time” you said, putting the last glass away.

When you woke up the next morning you could hear someone in your shower. Part of you hoped that maybe Tom had come up to use yours since him and Chris would both want to shower after coming back from the gym.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Chris said, interrupting your short daydream about a very sweaty Tom walking into your room after working out.

“Oh, it’s just you” you teased him, turning over and snuggling back into your bed.

“Damn, someone woke up in a mood” Chris teased back, walking toward your bed with a towel wrapped around his bottom half. “You hoping it was someone else?”

“A girl can dream” you turned over to smirk at him.

“Are you two a thing?” He asked, dropping down to lay in your bed.

“I don’t know” you answered honestly.

“Do you like him?” Chris continued, laughing when you blushed.

“I mean, I haven’t exactly gotten to know everything about him, but I think he’s kind of great.” You replied.

“Well, for what it’s worth I approve” he said, rolling back out of your bed and heading downstairs to get dressed.

Part 3

#tom hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston x curvy reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #loki

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Note: Thank you to everyone who has read, liked or commented on this story! I appreciate the support.

This was the entirety of my original plot, it was just supposed to be a one shot when I started writing it, but it took on a life of it’s own. There’s quite a bit more to come now so I hope no one is too disappointed by the way this ends! I’ve started working on the sequel and have it all mapped out, but I probably won’t post it until it’s mostly finished like I did with this one. So, keep your eyes peeled and please let me know your thoughts!

Part Two

—-

Part Three

26. 12. 19

Waking up, it took a few moments for the memories of the night before to come back to me. When they did, I was filled with relief that I was alone and Chris was no where to be seen. My head throbbed, partially from the alcohol I'd consumed and partially because of the regrets that were filling my mind.

How could we be so stupid? So reckless? How could we risk everything that we'd built for Grayson just for a few moments of relief? How would I be able to push my feelings for Chris aside again after sharing such intimacy with him?

It broke my heart to make the decision to be friends the first time we found ourselves in this situation, how could I be foolish enough to put myself through that again?

I turned my head and groaned into the pillow, a much more distressed, melancholy groan than the ones leaving my lips the night before. I felt like an idiot and I was dreading facing Chris.

After taking another moment to chastise myself for my bad choices, I checked my phone to see the time and was shocked. It was already almost nine thirty and I hadn't heard a peep from the rest of the house. Unfortunately, that meant I didn't have time to mope around in bed, puzzling out what to do.

So, I took just enough time to decide that I needed to make a quick exit before getting up to get myself ready to leave.

When I got to the kitchen, it was surprisingly quiet. None of the men or children were anywhere to be seen as Lisa, Shanna and Carly tidied up the dishes from the breakfast that I'd missed. Apparently, there was another snow storm forecast to start by the early afternoon and everyone had headed out into the snow as soon as they'd finished eating to start shovelling so that we could all leave before it hit.

I was relieved by their quick action because even if I had to shovel the whole driveway by myself and then drive home in a blizzard, I was not sticking around for another night.

Lisa had tried to convince me to let her cook me breakfast, but my stomach was in too many knots to even think about food. I politely declined and settled for a banana and a cup of coffee, chatting with the women as I ate. It distracted me for a while as I tried to shut off some of the noise in my brain, but once I was finished, I knew I had to face the music and head outside.

By the time I got out there, Chris, Scott and their brother-in-law were already halfway down the driveway which was an impressive feat considering how long it was. I waved to them as I put my bag in my car before heading towards where the children were playing in the front yard.

"Mama!" Grayson cheered as I approached them. "Look! We're building a snowman!"

I looked at the sloppy pile of snow they were assembling and smiled.

"Wow, I can see that! Great job, guys!"

He grinned as he ran over to me and threw his arms around my legs. It was a feeling that never got old and I leaned down to squeeze him closer, trying to ignore the wave of guilt that washed over me. He was the most important thing in our situation and we'd lost sight of that.

"Can you help us?"

"Of course," I nodded. "But I need to go talk to your daddy real quick, okay? Then I'll be right back."

"Okay!"

With that, Grayson bolted back over to his cousins to continue their little project. They were so good with him, including him in their games and activities despite his young age and I was happy that he had such good role models to play with. Leaving them under Dodger's watchful eye, I took a deep breath and headed down the driveway to Chris.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Scott shouted over, the first to notice me coming their way. "Thanks for getting up so early to help us shovel the driveway."

I laughed at his sarcasm and stuck out my tongue, but when he shot me a knowing wink, I felt my cheeks burn. Of course Chris would tell him. I should have expected it, they were as close as brothers could be and Chris was always open with his family.

But it just made me feel worse about the conversation I was about to have as I went over to Chris. Luckily, he was on the opposite side of the driveway to the other two. At least that would give us a modicum of privacy.

"Hey, good morning," he grinned. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," I returned his smile, though mine was much more forced. "Thanks for letting me sleep in."

"Grayson wanted to wake you up at breakfast," he admitted, looking over at our son as he spoke. "He was worried that you'd be hungry when you woke up and there would be no more food left."

I couldn’t help, but laugh at the thought of his concern.

"He's too sweet, but I appreciate you stopping him," I admitted. "I guess I was tired out after last night."

"Last night," Chris smirked. "Last night was..."

He trailed off as he tried to think of a word to describe it, but my smile disappeared entirely as I could tell from the look on his face that we weren't reflecting on our little incident in the same way. So, I beat him to the punch.

"Last night was a mistake."

My words hung between us for a moment and I knew, from the way that his jaw dropped slightly as if I'd just slapped him across the face, that he wasn't happy with what I'd said.

"Oh, don't give me that crap!" He protested once my words had sunk in, keeping his voice low enough that no one would be able to overhear. "You're saying that it meant nothing to you?"

I really wished we weren't outside with so many watchful eyes around, but this conversation needed to be had and at least this way I'd have an excuse to keep things brief.

"I'm saying that it shouldn't have happened," I clarified, my voice wavering slightly as I questioned my own confidence in my words. "We've worked hard to keep things as stable as possible for Grayson and that's what we need to stay focused on."

"So, you just want to pretend that it never happened?"

My heart felt like it was in a vice. I didn't want to pretend it never happened. I wanted to be with Chris, I wanted us to give it a shot, but I knew that it wouldn't work. I was nothing compared to the women that Chris usually dated and when it all fell apart, Grayson would be the one stuck in the middle. It wasn't fair to him.

But that knowledge didn't make it any less painful when I nodded my head.

"I think that's for the best."

Chris scoffed, looking down at the snow as if he couldn't even stand to look at me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to run away or cry and throw myself into his arms so I settled for simply standing there quietly, waiting for him to say something.

It felt like an eternity, but after a minute or two of total silence, he finally spoke.

"Just let me make sure that I'm getting this right," he started, looking back up at me with such an intensity that it made my eyes swim with tears. “You really have no feelings for me at all? Because if you feel even a little bit like I do then you couldn’t possibly think you’re making any sense right now.”

I swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with the situation that I found myself in. A situation where Chris could be standing in front of me, telling me that he had feelings for me after all these years that we’d been determined to be just friends. It would have felt like a cruel joke if there wasn’t so much hurt in his eyes, so much fear that I was about to reject him. Fear that proved to be entirely justified when I finally got my emotions under control enough to answer him.

"It doesn't matter," I told him softly. "It's not about what I feel or what you feel. We have someone more important to consider."

“That's bullshit!"

I flinched at the harshness of his words and his raised voice as Scott shouted over a reminder about language as the kids weren't very far away. I could feel the tears still filling my eyes, but I knew I had to stick to my guns.

"It's not bullshit," I insisted. "It's the right thing to do."

"But you said yourself, he's starting to notice that things are different," Chris pointed out, his voice thankfully much softer than it had been moments ago . "Why not take the chance to give him a normal family if that's what we both want anyway?"

"Because it will hurt him more if it doesn't work out."

"Hurt him?" Chris questioned, his scowl deepening. "Or hurt you?"

Both of us.

The truth was that I was worried that Chris would hurt me just as much as I worried that our decision would hurt Grayson, but I could handle the risk to myself if it was my choice. I couldn't handle our son being collateral damage.

I could feel Chris' gaze locked intently on me, but I couldn't lift my eyes to meet his. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold onto my argument when the decision I was making wasn't even what I truly wanted. I needed this conversation to end before I let my guard down and made anymore stupid choices.

"We can't talk about this here, Chris."

"Well, when will we talk about it then?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I need to think."

Chris shook his head as a sigh fell from his lips. He looked defeated.

"Alright."

I took that as an end to the conversation and turned to walk away, but I'd only made it a few steps when Chris called out to me again.

"I care about you, Whitney," he told me as I looked back over my shoulder. "This wasn't nothing to me. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to make this work."

That only made me feel worse as I had done it without such noble intentions and with doubt still plaguing my mind. I felt cowardly, but I couldn't bring myself to answer him as I looked away and continued on my way back towards our son.

I stayed outside, playing with the kids in the snow, until the driveway was clear. Once my car was free, I scooped Grayson up and said my goodbyes.

"Be good for your dad, okay?"

"Okay, Mama!" He smiled, pressing a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek. "I love you!"

"I love you too, buddy. I'll see you in a few days."

I put him down and waved as he ran back to follow his cousins who were heading inside.

Turning back to my car, I wasn’t entirely surprised to see Chris leaning against the hood. However, I was surprised to see that the scowl that had been firmly on his face since we talked had eased somewhat and I was even more surprised when he pulled me into a hug as soon as I was close enough.

"Drive safe," he warned me. "The roads still look pretty bad."

"I will," I nodded, easing myself out of his grip. "And I'm sorry, Chris. I really am."

"Don't sweat it." He shrugged, but the dejected look on his face did little to assure me that he accepted my apology. "We'll talk soon though, right?"

I nodded and stepped back, moving to get into my car as Chris moved away from the hood.

He stayed there on the driveway, watching me as I turned the car around and waving as I drove off until he was out of sight.

I felt exhausted and heavy. There were tears brewing in my eyes as I turned onto the road, just as they had been when I drove these streets on Christmas Eve as I was taking Grayson to dad's house and thinking I would be spending the holidays alone. It was amazing to me how I managed to escape the sad, bleak Christmas that I had been anticipating at that point, and yet still somehow managed to come away feeling just as lonely.

And it was amazing to me that I ever let myself think that raising a child with Chris Evans wouldn't be emotionally draining as long as we weren't in a relationship. At this point, it seemed to just make things harder, but I knew that one day both of them would thank me for the sacrifice I was making right now.

I knew that it was the right decision for all three of us and one little slip up, one lapse in judgment and will power, wouldn't derail all the hard work that Chris and I had put in to co-parenting our son.

Or, at least, I hoped with all my heart that it wouldn't.

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans x ofc #once bitten twice shy

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sincerelyella · 3 years

Text

You Are The Reason

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me

Summary: Liam chose Madeleine at the Coronation Ball and everyone is pissed except for Mads. This sequence of events happens the day after the disaster.

Song Inspiration: You Are The Reason by Calum Scott

Thank you so much to @ofpixelsandscribbles and @alyssalauren not sure what I’d do without you. Love you!

Warnings: Angst, tw: medical problems; adult language

Words: 960

There goes my heart beating, And you are the reason

I’m losing sleep, Please come back now

As Liam paced back and forth in his study, Drake watched his best friend with a disapproving glare.

“What the hell were you thinking? Were you ever going to tell me? Or her for that matter?! You were fine yesterday! What made you change your mind?”

The newly crowned king stopped pacing. “It was for her protection! I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, and I tried to find her but they had already taken her away,” Liam let out a sigh. “She didn’t pick up her phone when I called.”

Drake let out a small chuckle but there was no joy in it. “I don’t blame her,” He ran his hand through his dark brown hair. “You have no idea where she went, and she might be in danger now!”

“Bastien is on it-”

“I’m going to find her,” Drake blurted out.

“What? You can’t-”

“I actually give a fuck about her, unlike you!”

Liam’s eyes widened as Drake stormed out of the room. He knew his best friend was upset, but his words hit him right in the gut. He felt his heart begin to beat faster like it was going to pop out of his chest; a wave of nausea cascaded over him. Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and willed the sick feeling to go away. This was for her protection, that’s what matters. He felt his mouth filled with saliva and knew it was coming. The trash can next to his desk was the perfect place to empty his stomach.

As he threw up, Liam began to cry. His entire body was wracked with stress, and it had been that way the entire social season. He told no one about it because it didn’t matter. Nobody could help him or even stop this. The only person that truly helped him get through this unbearable time in his life was Ella. All she wanted was Liam. She didn’t care about the crown, how much money he had, what cars were in his driveway … and she loved him for him.

Liam sank onto the floor and leaned up against the wooden desk. He was going to run this country married to the most uptight person he had ever met; the thought alone made his stomach churn again. Could he do it?

No.

If I could turn back the clock, I’d make sure the light defeated the dark

I’d spend every hour of every day, Keeping you safe

He quickly stood from the floor and yelled for Bastien to get a car ready.

An hour later

Drake, Maxwell, and Bertrand found Ella at the airport. She refused to go back to the palace and wouldn’t listen to anything they had to say. Fighting the tears in her eyes, she hugged and kissed each one of them in turn.

“I was humiliated in a ballroom full of people that don’t give a shit about me,” her eyes watered as she stopped in front of Drake. “The one person I thought wouldn’t turn their back on me … did.”

“Believe me, we’re mad at him too,” Drake said quietly. “But he had his reasons and you leaving wouldn’t just hurt him but all of us.”

Max and Bertrand nodded in agreement.

“And we all love you, Brooks,” Drake whispered. The grumpy, cynical man that Ella knew had disappeared.

LAST CALL FOR FLIGHT 352, DEPARTING FOR LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. ANY AND ALL PASSENGERS THROUGHOUT THE AIRPORT SCHEDULED FOR THIS FLIGHT PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO TERMINAL B.

Ella shook her head, tears finally falling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, but my flight is leaving.”

“Please keep in touch, Lady E-” Bertrand stepped forwards and pulled her into another hug. “I mean Ella. Please keep in touch.”

After hugging them all over again, Ella tugged her luggage and jogged towards her terminal.

“Well, at least we know she’s going to California,” Maxwell said awkwardly.

Drake rolled his eyes. “That’s where she’s from, Beaumont.”

The trio stayed put until they saw Ella go through the mass of people and disappear. Loud footsteps sounded behind them and they all turned, eyes widened.

Liam stopped short when he saw his friends and waited for Bastien to catch up. “Where … is she?” His heart was still bounding in his chest, and he knew it wasn’t from running. It was beating like that before he even left the palace. “I need … to see her.”

I’d climb every mountain, And swim every ocean

Just to be with you, And fix what I’ve broken

“She left, Your Majesty,” Bertrand said curtly. “She won’t be coming back with us.”

“I'm going … after her,” Liam looked around frantically but before he could begin his run down the hall, Max put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“She wants to leave, Li,” Max noticed his friend tense. “There’s nothing you or any of us could say to change her mind. Just let her go.”

Liam felt like his heart had exploded and he opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. A crushing pain sat on his chest as he wrapped his arms around himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the pain would go away.

All three men stepped forward in concern.

Drake was the first to speak. “Li? What is it?”

A sharp pain ran through his left arm and Liam felt his fingers tingle. The pain was so excruciating that he wished he would die right then and there. As if someone heard his plea, Liam’s eyes rolled back and he slumped onto the floor.

‘Cause I need you to see, That you are the reason

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

A Fire I Can’t Put Out (Songbird Chapter 2)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: One week later, a chance encounter leads Reader and Spencer to each other once again. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut (exhibitionism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex - male and female receiving, multiple orgasms), Language Word Count: 10k (I got really carried away lol)

SERIES MASTERLIST SERIES PLAYLIST (new songs added with the release of each chapter)

NOTE: Alas! Our first inkling of fluff! While this chapter is very spicy (you get 2 smut scenes 😉), there’s also a very cute, fluffy moment at the piano that I hope you all enjoy! (Just thinking about it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside...) See you on Valentine’s Day for Chapter 3! 🥰

(Also, everyone should listen to the song I added to the end, it’s BEAUTIFUL and I changed the song/title of the chapter to match it last minute, because I just discovered it and it was too perfect not to use lol)

***

The note felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. It may have one time been a crumpled receipt, but now it was a searing reminder of the one time in my life that I'd broken my own rule and allowed a man to stay. It hummed ferociously, screaming at me to do everything in my power to find him again and finally learn his name at the very least.

Because that was the thing that bugged me the most. I thought that by refusing to learn his name that night, I would save myself the potential attachment, but it turns out all that did was make me even more attached to him.

I tried to convince myself over and over that it was just because he fucked me so good I thought I hurdled through space and time, and not because he was incredibly gorgeous, respectful, and pretty much downright perfect. Maybe it was all of those things rolled into one perfect, blissful night that was meant to be just that—a one-night stand. The one-night stand, if you will.

But no matter what I tried to tell myself, my thoughts always drifted back to him. S...

What could his name be? Steven? Sam? Scott? Sonny? Saxon?

I didn't want to think about it anymore. Maybe his name didn't even start with S... Maybe he meant it to mean Stranger. That was possible, right?

That was probably it. That had to be it, otherwise I was going to lose my mind trying to figure it out when there was a high chance I was never even going to see him again.

My fingers drifted over the piano keys and tried to play anything, anything from memory, anything from scratch? God, just play something... And when I finally did feel my fingers press down into the keys, I didn't register what the song was until I was singing the words.

"Say you'll remember me..."

"No!" I slammed my hands on the keys and then leaned forward on my elbows, resting my head in my hands as the loud array of notes faded into the bright, morning air. I took a deep breath and started to laugh to myself. "What the hell, Y/N..."

He wanted to be remembered, right? He wanted me to remember him. And by leaving the first letter of his name—and a note in the first place—that surely meant that he hoped I'd see him again, right? Or that I'd try to find him? Maybe that was his subtle way of telling me he'd be at the bar for the next open mic night, just in case I decided to show up again.

Or, maybe he was just being a decent human being, Y/N, you know shit like that doesn't happen in real life. Don't fucking fall for it.

I sighed and hit random keys on the piano again before getting up and deciding to take a drive.

When even music didn't take my mind off anything—which was almost never—driving always seemed to do the trick. Sure, there was usually more room for thinking when it came to driving, but for me, it was almost panic-inducing if I wasn't giving the road my full, undivided attention. It's not that I was bad at driving, but I certainly wasn't great at paying attention unless I was fully committed. Since I didn't want to seriously injure myself or die in a car wreck, I found that the best option to get my mind off of anything that was troubling me was to just drive.

It hadn't failed me yet, but maybe this would be the thing that finally sent me flying off a bridge and into a river.

I promptly decided not to think about that.

While I was going out I figured I'd stop by the coffee shop on my way out of town, that way I'd at least have a nice iced coffee to indulge in while I just wandered around. I made sure my driving playlist was downloaded to my phone before also grabbing my bag and keys, and then leaving the apartment.

***

"Hi, I'll take a large vanilla iced coffee, please."

"Will that be all?"

I smiled at the barista, whose nametag read Reyna. "Yes."

"Okay, your total is $3.50."

After handing her a five-dollar bill and putting the change in the tip jar, I stood on the other side of the counter to wait for my order and scrolled through my phone as the next person came up and ordered. It didn't take long, which I was more or less thankful for, but when I turned around, I ran right into someone's back and almost dropped my coffee.

"Whoa! I'm so sorry!"

I instinctively looked down to make sure I didn't spill anything, or that the person I ran into didn't spill anything, and when I finally looked up to apologize to their face, I froze and almost dropped my coffee anyway.

There was no fucking way.

"Hey, Stranger," he said almost nervously, his cheeks flushed.

I wasn't sure when I actually answered, but it seemed like forever because I was just so shocked that I actually fucking saw him again. I truly didn't think in a million years I would live in a moment like this, but there I was, taking in this man in all his beautiful glory.

He was more dressed up than the last time I saw him, maybe for work, or maybe that's just how he dressed sometimes. Whatever the case, I didn't give a shit because it was hot as hell. The color of his corduroy jacket was the same as his eyes, which now that I could see him in better lighting were lighter than I remembered. Under it was a white dress shirt and some type of olive green vest. His hair was still messy and downright tug-able, light curls framing parts of his face. Which was currently in the process of taking me in as well.

I smiled at him, though I wasn't sure if it was coming off as too excited, revealing myself to him, or if it was underwhelming. Or maybe it was just right?

Oh, who cares, Y/N, just fucking say something back!

"Hey, yourself. I... can't believe I ran into you again."

My stomach flipped at the way he smiled back at me, like he was almost nervous to be in my presence. Like I would have shooed him away rather than acknowledge him. He was fucking nervous and I found it incredibly endearing. It was such a contrast to... that night. Once he gained confidence, he was really something... But even now he still was really something, just in a different way, as he visibly tried to find the right words to say.

Finally, he settled on, "Yeah, I... I didn't think I'd see you again. It's... a nice surprise."

Understatement of the century, I thought as I waited for him to speak again. His voice was so... I didn't know how to describe it, other than to say it was so fitting for him, and therefore it was perfect.

Was that weird? Was I being weird?

"Do, um... Do you want to sit down?" I offered, gesturing to the tables on the other side of the café.

"Oh, I don't want to keep you if you're busy, I—"

"Nah, I had nothing going on today, trust me." I gave him a wink as we started making our way to the sitting area. "Besides, Stranger, if we're gonna keep meeting like this, I'm gonna need to at least know your name, don't you think?"

He laughed a little before shrugging, waiting until we sat down across from each other to respond. "I don't know, I... I think I like hearing you call me Stranger. It has a nice ring to it."

We both took a sip from our drinks, our eyes never losing their contact. By the way his face turned even redder, I would have thought he'd look away first, but he didn't. I had to wonder if he didn't look away because he didn't want to, or if he couldn't. Either way, I liked it.

"So, Stranger, tell me..." I said, setting my drink down and folding my hands over the table. "You been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about you lately?"

I could tell he hadn't been expecting that question, because for a second it looked like he was choking on his drink. He coughed before setting it down, though his hand never left the cup. "I— Y—you've been thinking about me?"

Suddenly remembering the note in my pocket, I scrambled to get it out. And as he looked at me, still shocked but a little puzzled now, too, I started to wonder if maybe it was a stupid idea. But there was no stopping it, now, because that would have been even more puzzling, not to mention embarrassing on my part.

I un-crumpled the note and held it in my hands, outward so he could see his handwriting. "I've been staring at this thing and carrying it around with me everywhere in my pocket for the past week, dude."

It looked like he was trying to hide a smile, and failing miserably at it. "So... Leaving the note was a good idea, then, huh?"

I smiled, though trying to hide it wasn't even an option. "Well, it certainly got me thinking about putting a name to the face... and the body... But in all honesty I think I would have been thinking about you regardless."

He studied me for a moment, and an unfamiliar feeling in my stomach just about sucker-punched me at the way he did it, his face softening and just getting lost in thought. Or me, though I didn't want to flatter myself. Even still, the thought of him being completely lost in my presence, in my just being here, discussing our brief past, was enough to tighten the knot in my stomach.

I couldn't tell if I liked that feeling or not.

Because while my body certainly seemed to like this uncharted territory, something tugged at the pant leg of my brain like a small child, looking up at me and saying with sad eyes that they wanted to leave and go home, back to the comfort and safety of what they already knew. And who was I to deny that?

But at the same time, I couldn't for the life of me let this man go. I wanted, ached to know more about him.

I was intoxicated, and it scared the ever-loving fuck out of me.

"Can I tell you my name?" His voice almost made me jump.

I considered it for a moment, before ultimately deciding that it would be a good small step to take. "Yes."

"Will you tell me your name?"

"Maybe."

We both smiled at each other for a few seconds before an idea came to my mind. He was about to tell me his name right then I think, but I held up my hand and leaned forward, tilting my chin up a little. "You know what... Before you tell me, I wanna know something... Have you ever fucked anyone in a public restroom?"

If he'd had any coffee in his mouth, it surely would have been all over the place right then. Instantly his eyes widened and he looked around the room as his cheeks flushed redder than I'd ever seen them. "What are you doing?" he gushed out really fast, almost refusing to look me in the eye.

"Giving you a deal. No one uses the restrooms here because people are always rushing in and out to grab coffee, or there's hardly anyone here to use them anyway. Bottom line is: we can easily be inconspicuous. So here's what I'm offering."

"This isn't a good idea—"

"You don't have to agree, obviously, but hear me out."

I waited for further resistance, but he just blinked at me, and I took that as my cue. "I'm gonna get up and walk to the women's room. You'll follow me after about a minute, and if you can make me cum twice then we can exchange names and numbers."

"We... We can do that without the exhibitionism, though, you know that, right?" He spoke as if anyone would be able to hear him if he wasn't quiet enough.

"Of course. But... I really haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and judging by the way you're shifting in your seat I can tell you're strongly considering taking me up on my offer. Because you haven't been able to stop thinking about me, either. And you really want to fuck me again, probably almost as much as I want to fuck you again. So what do you say?"

He still didn't speak, only stared at me, which left me to wonder what he was thinking. If anything, he almost looked a little petrified, so last minute I decided to take a little pity on him.

"Okay, new plan. I'm still going to go into the bathroom and wait a minute for you, two tops. I am gonna give you this, though..." I grabbed a napkin, a pen from my bag, and wrote my number down on it before sliding it to his side of the table. "I'll wait for you. If you don't want to go through with this, you can leave. But then you're gonna call me later, and we'll set a date to meet up if you want. How's that sound?"

I think he was completely overwhelmed by my ultimatum, because he still didn't say anything. Though this time he seemed... awed. Not necessarily as embarrassed as he was before, but more enchanted with the idea of what I was offering, the way I presented everything to him.

Figuring that was a good sign, I winked at him and made it a point to walk to the bathroom as seductively as I could without being too obvious.

Though, the further I got, and the longer I waited in the bathroom, the more I wondered if he'd already left the café. And then it started to dawn on me that I might have acted like an asshole, giving ultimatums to a man who was just trying to tell me his name. Why couldn't I have just let him tell me? We were right there, and I had to go ahead and turn it into a fucking game... And for what? So I could get laid? The thing is, I was so sure he liked me enough that after he told me his name we probably could have gone somewhere private and—

The door opened, and I was about to yell at whoever it was that someone was in the room already, but then I saw his face and felt myself relax.

"Hey, I'm... I'm sorry if I pressured you into doing this," I said sincerely, as he locked the door behind him. "We really don't have to if you don't want, I was... I was just trying to... I don't know, be mysterious or something? Which, I guess I can be, but I promise I'm not usually like this, and—"

"Hey, it's alright. I promise. Now... I don't mean to change the subject so quickly, but I do believe I owe you two orgasms. And I don't want us to get caught, so I'd like to get to it if you don't mind."

Holy fucking shit..

"You really know how to get a girl to shut up, Stranger," I said, grabbing him by the jacket and pulling him to me. I looked up into his eyes and smirked, walking us backwards until I hit the counter, just beside the sink. "How fast do you think you can get me there?"

A small smirk twitched at his lips before he surprisingly lifted me up and promptly sat me on the counter. "Depends... You gonna keep talking or are you going to let me do my job?"

The low tone in his voice was unlike anything I'd heard from him thus far, and it lit this fire in me that I didn't know I had. With a small, involuntary moan, I spread my legs wide and let him stand between them. He pulled me in for a long, hot kiss before dropping to the ground and wiggling me out of my pants. He ended up taking off my shoes, too, so he could slip my pants and underwear off my body completely. No sooner than they hit the floor did he get to work, his hands coming up to spread my legs once again, propping my heels up on his shoulders.

Unfortunately I couldn't keep myself from moaning out as he worked my pussy with his mouth, each long, wet drag of his tongue adding fuel to the fire he'd already kindled within me. I tried to bite my fist, hoping it would muffle some of the sounds, but it wasn't working.

I was thinking about calling the whole thing off and going somewhere we wouldn't get in trouble, when he seemed to have another idea.

Before I knew what was happening, my panties were shoved in my mouth, and my eyes were rolling to the back of my head as he slipped a finger inside of me with ease. In no time I felt my orgasm creeping up on me, every pump of his fingers and every quick, meticulous flick of his tongue on my clit getting faster and faster with each passing second. I shrieked into the ball of fabric as quietly as I could manage as I started to fall, clenching and shaking around him in record time.

Once I relaxed, he pulled himself away from me and stood up, licking his fingers clean and working at his belt as I stared at him with pleading eyes. I wanted to take the panties out of my mouth, but I knew that if I did I probably wouldn't be able to keep quiet. And the fact that he'd put them there in the first place, after so clearly being flustered at my suggestion to go have a quick fuck in a public restroom, completely turned me on and made me want him even more.

I did manage a pretty decent moan when he finally came forward and lined himself up with my waiting pussy. He smiled a little before leaning forward, never entering me but running his dick over it, coating himself with my arousal. He leaned his head in and brushed my hair from my neck before kissing it, and even softly biting me. If it was going to leave bruises, I didn't care. I welcomed every kiss, every lick and bite, and every slow, excruciating drag of his cock along my pussy.

He slid the tip of himself into me for a second before pulling out and moving my face with his hand, gripping my jaw and making me look at him. I whimpered at the loss of contact where I was clenching around nothing, patiently waiting for him, and also at the gain of our eye contact. I genuinely had no idea what he was going to do next, but I hoped it involved some semblance of a repeat of last time.

But once again, he surprised me, leaning forward and bringing his mouth to mine, ripping the panties from my mouth using his own. He leaned back, the pale blue fabric hanging from his teeth, and the sight drove me absolutely wild. It didn't help that he kept them in his mouth as he slapped my clit with his dick, and it took everything I had not to moan obscenely. He could tell, too, because he brought a hand to cover my mouth right as he pushed into me and held himself there.

He tossed his head to the side and dropped my panties on the ground, then ran his hands along the insides of my legs and rested them on my thighs. "I'll keep going as long as you keep quiet."

"You probably should have kept the panties in my mouth, then," I breathed, clenching myself around him and feeling him grip my skin tighter.

"Guess you'll just have to try and be quiet like a good girl, then, won't you?"

The whimper that escaped me was utterly pathetic. And I loved it.

Needing this to get going now, I reached forward and grabbed his hips, urging him to start moving, and thankfully he did. It was slow at first as we both just savored the feeling of being together like this again.

But in a matter of seconds all pleasantries were thrown out the window, and he slid his hands up to grip my waist as he pounded into me as quietly as he could. To ensure the skin-on-skin slapping wasn't too loud, he kept his thrusts short and staccato, but incredibly deep, setting my insides on fire and making me clutch onto the back of his ass for dear life. I tried so hard not to yell out that I was pretty sure my nails broke through his skin. He hissed out sharply, confirming that I was hurting him, so I let him go and opted to for gripping his shirt instead. I drew him closer, that way I could kiss him and feel all of him at once.

I might have also needed to find some way to keep myself quiet.

I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me back, every swipe of his tongue somehow managing to perfectly find a rhythm in tandem with his thrusts, despite how rushed and sloppy we were being.

It wasn't long before I felt myself start to fall apart, my hands clutching onto his jacket for dear life as my stomach started to knot. "Gonna cum, gonna cum," I murmured into his mouth, and he pulled away to kiss my neck.

My arms wrapped around him and pulled him as close to me as room would allow, right as my eyes squeezed shut and I saw stars, my second orgasm quick and intense. I mumbled little 'uh-huh's into his mouth as he fucked me through it, and when I was done, he pulled out, leaving me dazed but also confused.

It looked like it pained him to pull his pants up and tuck his still-hard dick away, so I reached out. "Why didn't you finish? We're in a bathroom, I can clean up just fine..."

"My orgasm wasn't part of the deal," he stated simply, straightening his clothes and trying to get comfortable.

"So, what, you're just going to walk around town with a boner?"

"No. It'll go away soon, I'll be fine." Once his clothes were all the way on, he reached into his jacket pocket, handed me a slip of paper—a business card it looked like—and kissed me quickly one more time. "Besides, the next time I cum inside you, I'd like to hear you saying my name."

And then he walked out of the bathroom without another word, grabbing my panties and shoving them in his jacket pocket as an afterthought before he disappeared.

I don't think I moved for a good minute or two before I finally looked down at the card and read his note. He must have written it down before he came in here.

Y/N, I heard them call your name at open mic night, and that's when I knew. I'm free tomorrow night. I hope you'll call. —Stranger

I turned the card over and saw his number, followed by his name.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

The second I got home, I ran to the bathroom and fixed my... problem... I wanted so badly back in the café to finish what I started, but I'd meant what I told her. I'd sighed her name out as I touched myself the few times since I'd met her, and I could only imagine what it would finally sound like to hear her say my name. I knew she could already tear me apart at her touch, but I wanted desperately to know if my name on her tongue would have the same effect.

I was almost positive it would, but I just needed to know.

It surprisingly didn't take long for me to finish, just the mere thought of her face and the way she looked at me as I shoved her underwear in her mouth enough to take me to the edge. And finally, when I felt them practically bruning a hole in my pocket, I tensed and sighed out her name, cum spilling out over my hand and into the toilet.

The orgasm should have calmed me down, should have relaxed me, but instead, as I cleaned up and changed into different clothes, I wondered if she would actually call me.

First of all, it was a wonder I'd ran into her at all. Truthfully, I didn't think I was ever going to see her again, and when I heard her voice call out an apology for bumping into me, I really thought I was dreaming. And yet, there she was, right in front of me in all her beautiful glory.

So when she offered to sit down with me, I couldn't say no. And when she asked, You been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about you lately? ... I was pretty sure I couldn't breathe. I didn't tend to think of myself as the type of guy who would leave that good of an impression, so hearing her of all people say that sent my heart—and stomach—into a mess of flutters.

And though the confidence I had in my ability to flirt with women in any capacity was very slim, I must have done something right. Because when I picked up the phone later that night and heard a low, "Hey, Stranger," through the speaker, I couldn't stop smiling. "Or should I call you Doctor?"

***

"YN... I'm really glad you called."

Hearing him say my name for the first time did something to me I couldn't explain. The way he said it was innocent enough, but it still made me beam with excitement.

I was curled up on my couch, wrapped in a robe after my shower and having been contemplating whether or not to call all afternoon.

I didn't want to wait too long in case he ended up making other plans or something, but I was also apprehensive. Because as much as I wanted to keep seeing Spencer, I wasn't sure I could handle breaking his heart. That's what always happened, didn't it? I started seeing someone, things would be great for the first few months, and then as they fell more in love with me I fell more out of love with them. But even then I wasn't sure I could call it that, because I never fell in love with them in the first place. Not even gotten close to it.

Would... Spencer be different? It was hard to tell. He'd already made me feel things I'd never felt before, so maybe this time would be different.

Or maybe that would just make it hurt even more when I inevitably pushed him away.

But I didn't want to think about that. All I knew in the moment was that he intrigued me, and for the first time in my life I actually wanted to to be near him almost every second of the day. Even when I wasn't thinking about him, my body was buzzing with the aftermath of him. His entire being was so magnetic that I couldn't help but be drawn to him. Even if, ultimately, I knew it would end with one or both of us in shambles, I wanted it. I wanted him more than anything, to be with him, to see him smile, to hear him talk...

That little kid that was tugging on my pant leg earlier, warning me that it was time to go home, was screaming now. Scared for its life and begging for me to turn back.

And for some reason, against my better judgement, I ignored it.

"You really knew my name the whole time and didn't tell me?"

From the pause on the other end of the line, I could tell he must have been nervous. I could see him in my head, looking down at his twitching hands as he tried to find some explanation. "Um... Well, you said you didn't want to know names, so I... thought I'd keep quiet. I hope you're not mad about that..."

I smiled. "No, I'm not mad. It was nice of you." I paused a beat before changing the subject. "So, uh... Tomorrow night..."

"Oh... Yeah, I travel quite a bit for work, and I don't get many days off, but tomorrow night is the only time I'm free for a while. So I guess it was a good thing I ran into you when I did."

"Hmm... I guess you're right. In that case, I should probably take it easy on you. Wouldn't want to wear you out or anything."

He laughed a little, and warmth bloomed in my chest at the sound. I imagined seeing him smile, which made it fully blossom. "No need. You... You could wear me out any day."

"Careful what you wish for, Stranger. Time and place?"

"I can be by your place at 6? I'll even bring food if you want."

I paused, suddenly reminded of the screaming child again. This time it was yelling, "It's not safe! Don't let him in, please!"

But God damn it, I wanted to so bad...

"Uh, sure," I finally answered, playing with the hem of my robe anxiously. "You... remember where it is? As I recall, you were pretty nervous the last time you were here, and kind of occupied with... other things."

"Oh, I—I remember everything, pretty much. I know where to go, it's okay."

He didn't elaborate. I kind of wanted him to, but figured the less I knew about him the better. I was invested in him enough already, and knowing more would just plunge me in deeper than I was comfortable with. So, I told him, "Alright. If you need directions or anything though, let me know. Should I be... wearing anything in particular when you get here, Doctor?"

The line was silent, and I could picture that little shocked expression on his face, the one he got every time I said something suggestive that he wasn't expecting. It was cute. "A—Anything you want will be fine..."

I laughed and bit my lip, leaning back into the couch. "Okay... See you later then. Tomorrow night, 6PM."

"Tomorrow night. 6PM. Goodnight, Y/N."

My face felt warm and my stomach fluttered as I curled into myself and smiled into the phone. "Goodnight, Spencer."

What surprised me most about that night was that I didn't hang up right after. I waited. And waited, until he hung up, just in case he said anything else. And I think he was in the same mindset, because we sat in silence for a good fifteen seconds before I finally hung up, shaking my head and wondering if he thought that was weird.

As it turns out, he didn't.

About ten minutes later, as I was getting into bed, I got a text message that read: I hope you know that I always have your song stuck in my head. The one from the bar. I hope you'll sing to me again one day.

I promptly sent back: If you're a good boy for me tomorrow, I just might, and set my phone on my dresser, ignoring the way my heart swelled at his sentiment.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. And when I did finally drift off, my dreams were about Spencer.

***

Usually I was decently confident when it came to my 'date' outfits. I knew what looked good on me, and I knew what made other people go, "Holy shit," under their breath when they saw me, so it should have been easy. And to some degree it was, but with all these weird feelings I was having lately, I was second-guessing myself.

But no matter how badly I second-guessed my decision, I stuck with what I knew best, wearing a thin black long-sleeved shirt with a low neckline and form-fitting jeans that flared at the bottom. A necklace with a silver diamond that matched my belly-button ring sat nicely at my chest, right above my cleavage. I opted to leave my hair down in long, loose curls that curled away from my face, and framed my eyes with simple black eyeliner and mascara, leaving my lips alone with a peppermint chap stick. Remembering how Spencer had complimented and basically worshipped my hands, I accented them with a deep purple nail polish that almost looked black if there wasn't any light shining on them. I put on a few rings that matched my other body jewelry and wore a thin, braided rope bracelet that my sister made me for my thirteenth birthday. Since I didn't think we were going anywhere, I only wore black ankle-length socks, but kept a pair of simple black heeled boots by the door in case we did decide to leave.

As for my... undergarments, I chose a nice black lace set that I only brought out on rare occasions, and I felt like it fit. The material was sheer and lacy, and that was about it. It was simple, but sexy, and that's what I loved about it. And if I knew Spencer's taste as well as I thought I did, I was pretty sure he would love it, too.

And that fact alone was enough to snap me out of my worry.

Kind of. I mean, he was still coming to my apartment, and I was almost certain that he was going to look around and probably ask some questions about things. Which, normally wouldn't be a bad thing, and in a way it really wasn't, but it still made me nervous...

I just hoped that I could keep him occupied enough so that I wouldn't have to deal with it too much.

There was a knock at my door, and I was thankful, finally pulled out of my head and into the world around me. I got up and opened the door with a smile, leaning against it slightly and taking him in.

"Hey, Stranger," I drawled, giving him a wink as I stepped aside to let him in.

But he didn't come in. Not until he was done taking me in, of course. "You... Wow, uh, hi," he stammered, holding out a bag that had to be takeout. "You look great."

As he walked in, I shut the door behind him and looked at his backside before he turned around. "Speak for yourself."

He took off his shoes, which revealed one red striped sock and one purple and blue polkadotted one, which made me smile. He wore simple grey corduroy pants and a purple sweater that matched my nail polish almost perfectly. His hair was just as perfect as it was the last two times I saw him, rightfully messy and curly that made me want to skip dinner all together and get right to dessert.

I even told him as much.

"You're kinda making me want to skip dinner."

"Oh, we... We can eat after if you want to, I don't mind," he offered kindly. It was sweet.

I laughed and walked up to him, bringing my right hand up to run my fingers through his hair. Then I leaned up and kissed him hotly on the lips for a few seconds before pulling away and letting out a low 'hmmm'. "Probably a good idea, but I'm starving."

I turned and started to the kitchen, throwing back over my shoulder, "That okay with you?"

"Y—Yeah, of course."

I turned on the light above the table before pulling out a chair for him with a smile. "I didn't really eat much today, so takeout sounded really good. I hope you didn't have to go too far out of your way to grab it, otherwise I could have made something here."

He sat down and I went to the other side of the kitchen to grab forks and plates. "Oh! No, it was alright, it was on the way over. Plus, I guess I don't really mind the travel, since I already do so much of it."

"Right, you mentioned that," I confirmed, taking a seat across from him. My dining room table was small, since my apartment wasn't that big. Even sitting across from one another, if Spencer and I reached our arms out across the table, we would have been able to reach each other's shoulders.

"Hey, do you want anything to drink?" I asked. "I've got some white whine in the fridge, otherwise I also have water, milk, and I think some Sprite."

"Oh, uh... Water is fine, thank you."

As I got up to get it, he got out the food. "Not a drinker?" I wondered aloud, grabbing glasses and the pitcher of water from the fridge.

"Not really. I'll have one on occasion, but if I'm driving I like to steer clear."

So, he wasn't planning on staying the night, then... Ultimately that was a good thing, but a small part of me admittedly felt disappointed. Regardless, I didn't let it show. "Makes sense. I don't drink a lot either, but I've been known to have a good time occasionally. And I always need white wine in the house, that's a rule of mine."

I didn't see his smile, but I could feel it. Was that weird? Feeling a smile? I'd never been able to tell, never noticed that before, but right then I just knew it was there.

But maybe it was just the way he said, "Fair enough," that made me certain.

Whatever the case, I shook the feeling and made my way back to the table with full glasses of water.

We ate with few words between us, though occasionally Spencer would throw out a random fact about the origins of the food we ate, or we exchanged small stories of both of our inabilities to use chopsticks. It was nice, being able to eat with him and not have to talk about where I was from or what my family was like. I never liked sharing that much of myself with someone that soon, let alone at all, so I was thankful for the ease our conversation carried.

Though, at one point he asked, "So, you're a musician? Is it full-time?" And it stopped me in my tracks a little. I loved music, and I was definitely passionate about it, but again, it was so personal to me that for some reason my brain kept sending me signals to turn around and change the subject.

But it was an innocent question. And I used music to my advantage all the time, it wasn't a secret that I was good at it, so I could give him an answer. And I knew that I didn't have to tell him anything I didn't want to, so I just needed to get my shit together and stop worrying. I had to remind myself that not everyone was going to use the things I tell them to hurt me. Truthfully I don't know why I was so paranoid by that, because it never happened, but I chalked it up to just looking for any excuse to keep myself closed off.

I brushed off all the discomfort and doubt I had, and took a drink of water before answering truthfully. "It's not full-time, but I think I'd like it to be. I definitely love it enough, but whether I could handle the stress of being a full-time musician or not is... well, it has yet to be seen."

"Do you write your own songs?"

"Mhm. Have been since I could talk, really. But whenever I perform it's usually covers that everyone knows. Easier to get them excited, anyway."

Spencer smiled, leaning forward a little. "You know, actually I'd never heard the song you sang at the bar that night... That was a cover?"

"Yeah. You don't listen to the radio?"

"Not really. If it all sounds like that, I may have to start, though I'm pretty sure it's not."

I laughed a little. "You'd be right about that... Still, the radio has its merits. I'm a fan of more independent stuff myself, but I keep up to date with what's new. Kinda have to."

"Why's that?"

I chewed my lip for a moment before answering. "Well, I don't do it full-time since I have a day job, but on the side I've helped with writing and producing other peoples' stuff, and a lot of it is what you hear on the radio, so..."

"Oh, that's really cool," he mused, and his eyes gave away that he genuinely seemed impressed. I almost blushed at the sight. "Y'know, I'm sure if you did decide that you could handle the stress of being a full-time musician, everyone would love you."

I laughed again. "You've never even heard my stuff."

"I don't need to," he answered truthfully. "I've heard you sing, you're incredible. And you know how to produce and write music. And, if it's good enough to be on the radio, then I know you've got nothing to worry about."

He could have just been saying that to be nice, and if it wasn't so clearly written on his face that he really believed what he was telling me, I would have thought so. Heat crept up to my cheeks, and I smiled, telling him, "Thank you," before taking another drink of water to cool myself off.

We spent the rest of the meal talking about some of our favorite music, which was a nice way to end it. We had a decent discussion about classical music (He was surprised and I think a little turned on by the fact that I knew a lot of what he was talking about in that department), and as we cleaned up the dishes he happily told me about the story behind one of my favorite classical pieces (which I didn't know and was more than glad to learn).

And while we were on the subject of music, I took him over to my piano when we finished cleaning up, which sat under the only window in the main room of the apartment. The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the sleek black of the piano. Since it was a small apartment, I couldn't have a 'fancy' piano like I wanted, so it was an electric one with a few settings to change the sound. I never messed around with it though, unless I was working on something for someone else. But even then, I did that work with other people in the studio, and not at home.

"Here, sit next to me," I said, patting the small space on the bench.

We barely fit together, but it gave us an excuse to be close to each other, which I think he liked. I know I liked it, at least.

"Are you gonna play something?" he asked. "I mean, you don't have to of course, I don't want to make you or put pressure on you or anything, but..."

"I wouldn't have brought you here if I wasn't going to play you something, Stranger," I said with a laugh, turning the piano on and nudging him with my shoulder. "Though, if you don't want me to, I can think of a few other things I could do for you instead..."

I looked up at him to see his face in a flush, and I smiled, my stomach knotting in that unfamiliar way again.

"Um... Maybe when you're done playing," he said finally, reaching out to ghost over the keys with his fingers.

"Do you play?" I asked, suddenly very warm, and turned on at the idea of watching his hands work around a piano.

"A little. I... I don't know much, but I'm a fast learner."

With a small smile, I grabbed his hand and placed his fingers over certain keys to make a chord. "There. Press all of those together," I told him.

He did, and a smile broke out on his face.

"C Minor," I said. "My favorite chord."

"You have a favorite chord?"

"What, you don't?"

"I... never really thought about it."

We laughed together for a few seconds before he played the chord again, this time tapping the pedal underneath to make it ring out longer. I looked up at him with a smile, right as he looked down at me with an even bigger one. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say we got closer, even though that was impossible unless I'd sat on him. Which I didn't do. Not right then at least.

No, I cleared my throat and messed around with a few keys, trying to decide what to play. Spencer removed his hands from the keyboard as I did it, and I could feel his eyes watching my movements. The thought sent more warmth through me, and I decided to go with something familiar.

My fingers settled on the right keys and started playing the chords to Wildest Dreams. And when I started singing, I swear I felt him melt beside me. It was different from the guitar performance, because at the piano I made it sweeter. My vocals weren't as strong, and I slowed it down to make sure I got everything perfect, but made it a point to look over to him occasionally, winking as I sang some rather sultry lyrics.

When I was done, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He looked down at me, his eyes studying my face like he was going to kiss me, but he leaned away from me, like he was deciding against it. Finally though, he spoke.

"While I appreciate the performance, it completely juxtaposes the text you sent me last night."

I really didn't know what to say, mostly because I was having a hard time remembering what I texted. I would have been able to remember any other time, but in the moment I was just too entranced by his presence and the way he was staring at me. "W—What did I say?"

My hand was still on the piano, but I felt his reach out and lightly brush over it, caressing the lengths of my fingers. "You said you might sing for me if I was good for you... We haven't done anything yet, and you still sang for me anyway."

Oh, that...

I smiled, sliding my hand out from under his and dragging my middle finger along his own, up and then back down, over and over again. "Didn't you know that I can see the future?"

He looked amused. "Oh, really?"

"Mhmm..." I kept drawing lines up his middle finger, but leaned in closer to him. "And just before you got here, I saw that you made me cum three times."

He took a moment before leaning in closer and responding, his voice barely above a whisper. "You and your ultimatums..."

"It wasn't an ultimatum. It was the future."

Our faces got closer...

"Oh, okay. I believe you."

...And closer...

"Good."

My eyes fluttered closed as he kissed me, gently and with a care that was practically butterfly-inducing. I leaned into him further, finally moving my hand up his arm and snaking up to grab his hair. As his lips parted and his tongue gently swiped over my bottom lip, I climbed up onto his lap, placing my hands around his head to anchor myself to him. He used his to grab the piano in front of him, pushing us forward a little so we wouldn't fall off the bench. The mess of notes rung out loudly in the air, much like they had the day before, right before I went to the café and ran into him.

The coincidence of it all almost made me laugh, but the humor quickly dissipated before I could, because Spencer brought one of his hands to my lower back and groaned softly into my mouth.

I moaned right back, shifting my hips slightly so that I was straddling one of his legs. He spread them wider to give me more room, and I settled nicely, grinding down and almost whining at how little friction there was between the corduroy that adorned his leg and the denim that adorned mine. That didn't stop me, though. I rode his thigh as well as I could, relishing in the way his hand pushed me further into him and his kisses got deeper and more desperate.

Eventually, though, I had enough. I pulled my mouth away from his and clumsily got off of him, standing up and unbuttoning my jeans. He turned around and reached out to help, but I put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. "Stay right there. I'm gonna finish what I started, but I need to get these damn pants off first."

He didn't argue. I held eye contact with him up until I slowly tugged my pants down and stepped out of them, lifting up my shirt a little so he could see the underwear I was wearing. As expected, his eyes wandered south, and I could have sworn I saw his pupils dilate.

But I didn't give him a lot of time to take them in. I made good on my promise and climbed up on his lap again, wrapping my arms around his neck and biting my lip as I started to ride his thigh once more. I started off slow, pressing my forehead to his and enjoying how it felt when his hands firmly grabbed onto my ass. Our lips met again, slowly and yet, also just as desperate as they had before. And with each antagonizing slow roll of my hips, his kisses got bolder, and his hands kneaded my ass, urging me to go faster.

Thankfully for him, I was feeling just as desperate as he was. So I quickened my movements on his thigh and kissed him harder, taking his bottom lip in between my teeth and tugging it before tilting my head to the other side and kissing him again. Meanwhile I could feel that burning in my lower stomach that signaled a fast-approaching orgasm. So I ground myself onto him even harder and whined in his mouth, just before pulling away to speak.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum already," I breathed, pressing small kisses to his jaw.

Spencer squeezed my ass and leaned into my touch. "Go ahead, Y/N..."

It wasn't like he was giving me permission, but just hearing him say my name regardless sent me over the edge, and in no time I was shaking around his leg, clenching my own around him and clinging to his neck for dear life.

Once I came down, I sighed and smiled into his neck, kissing it and moving up to his ear. "Two more to go."

What he said next threw me completely off guard.

"No."

It wasn't a command, or a threat. It was a matter-of-fact statement. I pulled away and looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

He only smirked. "You said I was going to make you cum three times... You did that one all on your own."

The sultry, cocky way he said it made me melt, and I knew then that I was in some serious trouble.

The first time he made me cum was right there on the piano bench. He insisted that I sit down while he eat me out, and I wasn't one to complain. However, he did drag it out so long that by the time I actually came, it felt like I'd done it a thousand times over.

So, to give myself a little break, I returned the favor, and we made it to the kitchen before I couldn't wait any longer and promptly decided to suck him off while he leaned back against the counter. I took the same courtesy he had in dragging it out, pulling off of him completely right as he was about to cum, and I absolutely melted into a pile of nothing upon hearing how he whined and panted while I did it.

I did that in about five long, excruciating cycles before he told me it was my turn and dragged me into my bedroom.

The second time I came, he fucked me against the door, one of my legs standing on the ground while the other lifted and rested on my dresser. He didn't waste any time, just pushing my panties aside and fucking me hard and fast. And fast it was. It only took about a minute before I was convulsing around him, every nerve I had set on fire.

He let me have one more break, laying me down on the bed and taking his time stripping off the rest of my clothes. He must have spent a solid half hour just licking, biting, and teasing my breasts, his hand occasionally reaching down to graze my clit for a few strokes before returning to touch the rest of me. All the while, he slowly rutted against my thigh, moaning into my skin when he got close and stopping his movements all together for about a minute before continuing.

But I was growing impatient and squirmy. So I grabbed his face, pulled him up to kiss me, and wrapped my legs around his waist.

"Fuck me, Spencer, please," I begged, kissing his jaw and shivering at the way he whimpered hearing his name fall from my lips.

He adjusted us for a moment before sliding into me slowly, and we both let out some of the most filthy sounds I'd ever heard. Every movement and sound we made from then on was frantic, desperate, and so full of need that I was almost positive I wasn't even alive anymore. Was I even ever alive at all? Did life exist?

"I can't... I'm go—gonna..."

Spencer suddenly coming to a halt and coming inside me was all I could feel, and it brought me back to my senses. I breathed out his name as he continued emptying everything he had into me, just like he'd admitted to me that he wanted back in the coffee shop. I was close myself, but with his halted movements, I didn't get there.

As I moved one of my hands down to rub my clit, he grabbed my wrist and pinned it above my head, pulling out and then plunging back into me, causing me to gasp.

"That's my job, angel," he murmured sweetly, just as he began slowly fucking his cum into me.

If I wasn't already in trouble, that would have destroyed me.

It didn't take long before I was crying out his name and orgasming for the fourth time that night. It was the most powerful one I'd had... well, ever, if I was being honest. My back gradually lifted off the bed and my eyes were screwed so tightly it felt like they were bruising.

But God be damned if I didn't want to experience that whole feeling over and over again for the rest of my life.

He stayed there for a moment, leaning over me and brushing the softest kisses to my temple as we caught our breaths. Eventually, though, and I wasn't sure how long exactly we'd been wrapped up in each other, he pulled out and laid beside me. And if it wasn't for his cum dripping out of me, I would have probably fallen asleep right there and been happy.

As if he was able to read my mind, Spencer sat up and brushed some of the hair from my face. "I'll go get something to clean you up real quick. Don't move."

I giggled, feeling light-headed and completely blissful as I caught him in our afterglow, taking in his beauty and basking in it like the sun. "I wouldn't go anywhere even if I could."

It wasn't until he came back and started cleaning between my legs with a warm washcloth that I realized what I said.

It took even longer for me to realize that he'd grabbed and put back on his underwear and pants.

As he tossed the washcloth into the laundry basket in the corner of my room, I sat up and reached for his sweater, slipping it on before he could say otherwise. It smelled like him and fit just right, which made me feel all warm and happy.

"Did you, um... want me to stay?" he asked softly not stepping any closer.

Yes.

"It, uh... would probably be better if you left. But... You can stay for an hour or two before you go home?"

Of course it was only a suggestion, because I couldn't make him do anything. But I asked it like a question, because I really wanted him to stay, just for a little bit longer if he couldn't stay the whole night.

Spencer nodded, smiling, and looking a little relieved if I was reading him right. "You should try to go to the bathroom first. Urination after sex is essential to prevent UTIs."

Smiling, I got up from the bed and kissed him on the cheek before grabbing a pair of clean underwear from my drawer and walking to the bathroom.

When I came back with a freshly washed face, my jewelry discarded, and feeling refreshed and ready to fall asleep, he was laying on my bed with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his bare chest. Thinking better of it, I took off his sweater and threw it at him before rummaging through my drawers for a night shirt of my own.

"You could have kept it on," he said quietly, even as he put the shirt back on himself.

I shrugged, slipping on a large brown tee-shirt and climbing into bed under the covers. "You can't go home without a shirt."

"Right..." He sounded a little sad, but maybe I was just imagining it.

I rolled over on my side and looked at him, already feeling myself start to drift off. But I forced my eyes open and reached out to brush my fingertips through his hair. "Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Of course," was all he said, a small smile adorning his lips.

I hummed and nestled in closer to him, and his hand came down to rub the inside of my arm.

And as much as I tried to stay awake, just so he would stay longer, inevitably I fell asleep, hearing Spencer humming the melody to my favorite classical piece.

***

My arms stretched out, seeking his warmth even though I knew it wouldn't be there. I told him, made it a point to make sure he knew he had to leave after I fell asleep.

So why did I feel saddened by his disappearance?

I groaned into my pillow and stretched my body, already feeling it ache from all that... strenuous activity from the night before. When I opened my eyes and turned my head, I saw just a glimpse of the sun peeking through the curtains in my bedroom, illuminating what looked like a piece of paper on the other pillow next to me.

I slowly sat up and grabbed it, rubbing my eyes to will myself to read it. I already figured it would be another note from Spencer, but my hear fluttered when I read it nonetheless.

Not sure when I'll be free to meet again, but I'd like to keep in touch— As much as I love when you call me Stranger, I'd prefer to be anything but.

Sweet dreams, — Stranger Spencer

Yeah. I was definitely in trouble.

***

“All my pleasure choked by pain Since I let you get away. I should’ve tied you to the bed When I had you in the flesh. Now I’m chained to the memories.

How the music played loud. How my hair came down. How you kissed my mouth With a fire I can’t put out.

Why does it feel like torture Not to have your skin on mine?”

—Liz Longley, Torture

SERIES TAGLIST: @bluesunrise02 @meowiemari @teenwolfgirl90

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes

(Please let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! Thank you!)

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#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid #songbird

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kurt-nightcrawler · 4 years

Text

Baby Bird

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request: i kinda had this idea for a warren x reader and if you were intrested or had time i’d be very appreciative 👉👈. (warren has his apocalypse wings) so the reader is a new student she’s very like shy and timid but very sweet and her only friend is jean, she just like refuses to converse with others. and her gift is her wings and they’re exactly like warren’s except black (kinda like he was the bad boy with white angel wings and she’s the good girl with black wings,sorry i love opposites 😂) and be just hates her because it’s a reminder of his old wings and mistakes. fast forward to like a day at school or party someone is messing with r because she never shows off her wings and then like push her or something and jean freaks out and tells warren r doesn’t know how to use her wings (super sad childhood with very anti-mutant parents) so then warren saves her and they talk more and get closer.

A/N: this is so late! I am so sorry! But I am finally getting around to all my requests and this wasn’t in my ask box so it got kind of lost and I forgot about it for a hot minute! I hope you enjoy it though! 🥺💛

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: underage drinking, teasing, anxiety, and mentions of poor home life

“Your grades are phenomenal, yet your class participation is lacking.” (Y/N) picked at her nails, looking down. Xavier called her into his office to “discuss her grades” but she knew that was the last thing on his mind. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but at some point, everyone has to socialize.”

Her head shot up, “I do! I do socialize.”

Sure, she ate lunch alone under the trees, would rather be alone than have a partner for class projects, and she didn’t have many friends— but she was new! Being the new kid was hard. Not to mention her parents were more than thrilled to get rid of her and her wings.

Her big, black, feathery wings, that she didn’t even know how to use! She hid them under baggy sweaters, no matter the weather.

Xavier gave her a look, “You don’t have any friends and you hide your beautiful wings.”

“Dr. McCoy and Mystique hide their true selves… and if Kurt had the chance he’d want to look normal too.” Charles sighed. “Look, um, Professor, I do— I do have friends.”

“Who?”

“Jean Grey.”

Saying Jean was her friend wasn’t a lie— however, Jean was her only friend. (Y/N) didn’t like to talk, and Jean read minds— easy friendship right there.

Jean had other friends and even a boyfriend. (Y/N) felt like she weighed her down or was charity work, but Jean always said otherwise.

Sometimes (Y/N) would sit with Jean and her friends. They were all kind and welcoming, despite her not saying anything. The only one who seemed standoff-ish was Warren.

Warren was tall and extremely handsome. Jean had teased (Y/N) for losing her train of thought more than once for looking at Warren and thinking he was pretty.

He had these huge metal wings and tattoos on his face. (Y/N) thought they could possibly be friends, mostly because they both had wings, but that didn’t go so well…

—

The one day (Y/N) wore a t-shirt, with holes in the back so she could flaunt her wings, everyone looked at her. She didn’t like the attention, but she couldn’t blame them for staring.

Jean’s friends showered her with a mixture of surprise and compliments with her wings.

“Can I touch them?” Peter asked. (Y/N) nodded, making eye contact with Warren for a moment.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. (Y/N) quickly looked away and frowned. Everyone liked her except for Warren.

Was he the honest one of the group though? What if all of Jean’s friends actually hated (Y/N)? What if they just put up with her because Jean made them? She was sure Scott didn’t like her much either, even if he never showed it. He was dating Jean and her friendship with (Y/N) probably cut into their time… Oh, God… They just think my wings are neat and soon as I stop showing them they’ll get bored of me…

Warren was glaring at something, and then he got up as left. Just like that!

“Is he okay?” (Y/N) asked Jean.

“He’s just being dumb. You know how boys are.” (Y/N) nodded, but she was pretty sure Warren wasn’t just “being dumb”. He probably hated her.

—

It was finally the weekend, and (Y/N) was hunched over her books on a Friday night. Normal for her, as Jean and her friends usually went out somewhere.

A knock at her door interrupted her work time, and she opened it to find Jean and Jubilee standing in the doorway. Jubilee was bouncing and had a bag in her arms.

(Y/N) let them in. Jubilee set the bag on the floor and started going through it— it was full of makeup and hair stuff. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to a party tonight, and you’re coming with us.”

(Y/N) glanced over to her work pile, “But I’ve got a paper due—”

“Two weeks from now. I have the same class.” Jubilee answered.

“Jean…” She whined.

“One night out won’t kill you. Neither will a little makeup and a cute outfit.”

“What?”

“Here, put this on.”

She examined the lump of fabric in her hands.

It was a dress.

“People will see my wings!”

“Yeah, that’s like the whole point,” Jubilee said.

(Y/N) sighed and slipped off her sweater, putting the dress on in its place.

“You look so pretty!” Jubilee cooed.

“Thanks.” (Y/N)’s immediate reaction was to fold her wings in tightly to her back, so they weren’t visible from the front.

“Relax,” Jean told her, soon as she noticed what (Y/N) was doing. Jubilee signaled her to sit down on the floor next to her, amidst a hundred different makeup products.

“I’m just gonna do some light, subtle makeup. Enough to enhance your features.”

“Thanks?...” The brush tickled (Y/N)’s skin, making her nose scrunch up.

“Relax your face. This doesn’t hurt.”

“Sorry. Sorry…”

“It’s okay.”

—

Everyone somehow managed to fit in one car— except for Kurt and Peter, they were racing to see who could get to the party first— Jean and Scott in the front, Warren, Jubilee, Ororo, and (Y/N) in the back.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Warren looked a little flushed, “Is Warren okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Jean asked.

“His face is flushed. Is he just like, hot or something?”

“Or something…” Jean smiled, trying to act nonchalant. (Y/N) gave her a deadpan look through the rearview mirror. “I can’t tell you, but he’s fine.”

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Scott asked, looking back at her through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.”

Scott nodded awkwardly.

—

Once parked, everyone quickly tumbled out of the car. Music could be heard from the inside. It was loud.

“I want to go home.”

“(Y/N) we just got here— dance with Jubilee or go sit outside with Ororo and Warren.”

“Warren doesn’t like me.”

“Not true… He’s just quiet.”

(Y/N) started to retaliate but Jean walked into the kitchen with Scott, and (Y/N) tried to not interrupt her time with her boyfriend, so she shut up.

Peter was playing beer pong with some kids. Jubilee and Kurt were dancing and both had cups in their hands. There was some wanna-be punk band playing.

(Y/N) decided to join them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!”

She waved her hand.

“You look nice,” Kurt said.

“Thanks.”

“I did her makeup,” Jubilee bragged.

Kurt giggled slightly, “Nice.”

The band was mostly playing covers, but they were pretty good. (Y/N) was letting loose and dancing along with Jubilee and Kurt.

I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah!

Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit…

I'm traveling at the speed of light.

I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!

(Y/N) accidentally hit Jubilee with her wings. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine! They’re soft anyways.”

Don't stop me, don't stop me, don’t stop me. Hey, hey, hey!

Don't stop me, don't stop me, ooh, ooh, ooh…

(Y/N) was actually enjoying herself. She was dancing and chanting incoherently along with the lyrics. She almost felt free.

The last time she had felt like this was as a child. Before her wings grew in. Before her parents deemed her a monster who had to hide. Before she lost everything she had. Before she decided to speak less was better for her.

She didn’t even think about any of it. She didn’t even think about how Jean was probably making out with Scott in a bathroom, or how Warren had been acting. She was having fun, and that was the only thing that mattered to her.

—

At some point during the night, (Y/N), slightly tipsy, made it up onto the roof with a few other kids. Everything was fine at first, but they were way too drunk.

“Why don’t you jump off the edge?” One of them asked.

“What?”

“Fly off the edge, birdie!” The other laughed. “Jump! Jump!”

“Jump! Jump!”

In the rooftop kids efforts to get (Y/N) to jump, people on the ground started chanting too.

“What’s going on?” Warren asked. Jubilee shrugged.

(Y/N) was terrified, wings folded in tightly to her back.

Jean came running up to Warren, “(Y/N) can’t fly! She can’t hear me either, she’s too nervous, lost in her own thoughts.”

Warren wanted to ask what he could possibly do, but he never got the chance.

(Y/N) fell off the roof.

Or maybe she was pushed off. Either way, it didn’t matter because she was screaming and falling and no one was doing anything.

Warren bolted and flew up so he could catch her in his arms. She looked so weak and tired in his arms. She was crying and his heart dropped seeing her like that.

Warren carefully brought her to the ground, making sure she could walk on her own. “Come here,” He gave her his jacket and wrapped an arm around her, letting her cry into his chest.

“I hated that—” She sniffled, “—I’m never doing it again.” Warren nodded understandingly, holding her close to his side.

“Let’s go home, okay?” (Y/N) nodded, still in a state of shock.

—

The halls of the mansion were like a ghost town, everyone was either out, asleep, or couped up in one of the many rooms. Warren and (Y/N) were alone as they walked up to her room.

“Why did you save me?”

Warren blinked, looking at (Y/N). She rarely spoke to or around him.

“Jean said you couldn’t fly.”

“Oh…” She avoided Warren’s eyes in embarrassment. So Jean told him to save me because I’m useless. Of course…

“You could have died, falling from that high up,” Warren’s voice was stern, but he wasn’t angry.

“Sorry…” She mumbled.

Warren furrowed his brows, “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“I inconvenienced you…”

“What? No!” He stopped to stand face to face, holding one of (Y/N)’s hands. “You could never.”

(Y/N) felt fuzzy inside. Was she getting sick? Was she allergic to Warren? Why is he so nice? Why am I so nervous?

“I’d do the same for anyone.”

Oh. Yeah, no, he doesn’t really like me… nobody does… “Right.”

Warren noticed her mood change, but he didn’t call her out for it.

“I’m gonna go to bed. Thanks for bringing me home…”

“Of course…” He coughed for a moment, clearing his throat. “If you need anything, um, my room isn’t that far—”

“Thanks, Warren.” She forced a smile. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

—

Warren slipped off his t-shirt, discarding it on his desk chair. He laid in bed, thinking about (Y/N).

What if he hadn’t caught her in time?

He shook the thought away as he tossed in bed, slowly falling asleep.

Warren didn’t hate (Y/N). He just hated her wings… they reminded him of his old wings. The one thing he wanted most in life… his new ones were a constant reminder of his past mistakes, they were the wings of a monster.

But Warren had changed, or so he thought. He hated seeing (Y/N)’s wings, despite them rarely being out. He was jealous and angry. Mostly at himself.

But (Y/N) didn’t know how to use her wings…

That was strange to Warren. Maybe there was more to her than he thought.

—

(Y/N) awoke to a knock on her door.

“Hggggg… Just give me a minute.” She groaned. She rolled out of bed and opened the door.

“Jean? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay! We got back late and Warren said you were already asleep.”

“Oh… Well, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… Do you wanna come down for breakfast?”

(Y/N) glanced at her pajamas. “Can I get changed first?...”

“You look fine! Most of the group is still in their pj’s anyway.”

“Okay.”

Jean led (Y/N) down the hall to the kitchen where her friends were. Most of them were chatting amongst themselves or shoving food into their mouths.

“Hangovers?” She asked.

“Yeah some, I’m surprised you don’t have one.”

“I never said I didn’t.” (Y/N) got herself a cup and a plate, taking some of the food and drink available.

“(Y/N), are you okay from last night?” Jubilee asked.

She nodded.

Peter let out a breath, “Thank God. Xavier would have killed us if you’d gotten hurt.” (Y/N) nodded again, trying to just focus on the food on her plate.

“You’re lucky Warren was there to catch you,” Scott stated.

“Yep.”

“Is everyone going to keep talking about last night?” She asked herself.

“Probably. You could have broken your legs, or sprained an ankle— plus people like to talk.”

“Gossip, you mean gossip.”

Jean didn’t respond, she was too focused on whatever Scott was saying. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

Typical.

Warren trudged into the kitchen— his curls tangled, wings almost dragging against the floor, and he wore the world’s most wrinkled t-shirt— he looked like he didn't want to be there.

He opened up a cabinet and took out a mug. He closed the cabinet door and moved over near the coffee pot on the counter. He took it and poured plain, black, coffee into his mug.

Then he took a sip straight from the mug.

“There is creamer and milk in the fridge,” (Y/N) reminded him.

“I know.”

“Oh.”

(Y/N) focused on her plate again, trying to pretend the awkward interaction didn’t happen.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering—“ (Y/N) quickly looked up at Warren as he spoke. “I could like, help you learn to fly.”

“Um…”

“No one would see us. If you’re worried about that.”

“Oh my god! You should say yes!” (Y/N) quickly twisted her head over at Jean and almost gave her the finger, but Scott was watching. So she just glared.

She didn’t want Jean in her head all the time. Especially at a time like this.

She looked back at Warren, “Sure. I have nothing else to do.”

“Cool. I have some stuff to do, but I’ll get you in a few hours.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Sounds good.”

—

(Y/N) looked through her closet, trying to find something she could wear to fly in. Most of her tops weren’t exactly wing friendly. She sighed.

She didn’t even want to do this— she just wanted to hide her wings forever and move on from last night.

No. No, that wasn’t true in the slightest.

She needed to learn to use her wings, they were a part of her, whether she liked it or not. She had her old life ripped away from her in exchange for the big black heaps of feathers on her back, weighing her down every day. She had to embrace them somehow. They were all she had.

That and Jean… sometimes. And eventually, she’d have to leave the nest and talk to other people.

Warren knocked on her door. (Y/N) glanced at her reflection— she still had her pajamas on!

He knocked again, “(Y/N)? It’s me.”

“Sorry! Give me a sec!” (Y/N) hurried and shut her closet, then opening her door to let Warren in. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, are you—“ He glanced at her clothes. (Y/N) instantly tensed up, insecure by his gaze. “Why are you still in your pajamas?”

“Uh… I don’t really have anything good for flying—“

“Just wear some shorts and a shirt with holes in the back. Nothing fancy.”

“You don’t understand, I have one shirt with holes in the back, and it’s in the laundry.”

“You sleep with your wings tucked in?” Warren gawked.

“Sometimes.” She defended.

Warren glanced at something shiny in the corner of his eye. “Grab a shirt you don’t care about.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) grabbed an old Xavier’s school tee.

“Give it to me.” She handed it to Warren. He took the scissors from her desk and quickly cut slits in the back of the t-shirt. “There. Now you have something to wear.”

She just stared at Warren.

“Are you gonna put it on or?...”

“Can you step out of the room then?”

Warren’s eyes widened in realization on what he’d set himself up for. “Right! Right, um, do you need any help getting your wings through the holes?”

“If I do, I’ll ask. Now leave so I can get dressed.”

“Yeah, right, right.” Warren quickly stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

(Y/N) huffed and slipped her large nightshirt off, throwing it on her bed. She grabbed the shirt Warren cut up and put it on without a second thought.

Head pops out through the first hole.

The arms go through the sleeves.

The shirt slips down and covers the chest and torso.

But the wing holes were new. (Y/N) tried to push one of her wings out but she struggled. It took her a bit of reaching back with her hands to spread the fabric a bit so she had more space before she could get it through the slit.

The second wing she had more trouble with.

(Y/N) couldn’t reach her arms back as easily to spread out the slit. And her whole wing wouldn’t go through since it wasn’t the loosest of shirts.

(Y/N) opened her door and peeked her head out. “Hey, I need some help…”

Warren perked up a little, following (Y/N) into her room.

“Just like, hold the two sides of the slit out, and then I can get my wing through.”

Warren did as she asked.

“We’re they too small?”

“A little, but also this isn’t baggy like most of my clothes, so…”

“I can make the holes bigger if you want.”

She dismissed him, “It’s fine. I’ll do it later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I already wasted enough time getting ready. We should go out.”

Warren nodded, “Yeah. We’re gonna be out for a while.”

—

They were standing on the roof of Xavier’s, looking out onto the grassy campus.

“So, uh, flying once you get the hang of it, is like a reflex almost… But uh basically, you just need to flap your wings, so you keep yourself afloat of sorts. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, um, just like, run off the edge—”

“Runoff the edge?!” (Y/N) asked, terrified of falling to her death. Scared of having a repeat of the night before.

“Just flap your wings, and if you mess up I’ll catch you.”

(Y/N) stood at the edge, peering down at the ground below. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe back up a bit, get like a running start first.”

(Y/N) did as he suggested, running off the edge. When her feet left the roof, she tried to flap her wings as Warren had told her.

She felt herself flying like a wonky baby bird. Somewhat lopsided with each flap, but she was doing it!

“Oh my gosh! Warren! Warren I’m doing it!”

She could see Warren still on the roof. He gave her a thumbs up and some encouraging cheers.

(Y/N) smiled, struggling to fly, but flying nonetheless. She looked down for a moment, and then suddenly realized she was many feet above the ground, in the air. (Y/N) panicked, and stopped flapping her wings for a moment, before she started to fall.

“Shit!” Warren flew off the roof to save (Y/N).

But it was a false alarm, for, by the time Warren was about to catch (Y/N), she’d regained herself and was no longer falling to the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, it’s just really high up, I’m scared of falling again, like at the party.”

“Hey, hey, relax, don’t focus on the ground or your wings. Just— focus on me, okay?”

She looked at his face— his blue eyes, his plush pink lips, the dark lines adorned all over his face, and how he had a few untamable, blonde curls that framed his face— she looked at Warren’s wings and tried to copy how his fluttered and kept him aflight.

“You’re doing it!” He told her.

“Really?” (Y/N) was almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, you’re doing great!”

(Y/N) looked at her wings, realizing what she was doing. She was worried she’d fall, but it never happened.

“I’ll race you to the mansion next door.”

“Next door? That’s like several acres.” Warren gave her a knowing look, and then it all clicked. “Oh! Oh, you’re so on!”

Warren laughed and they both flew off at high speed, away from school.

—

They got back to the mansion after sunset, both giggling and playfully fighting about who won the race.

“I think I won—”

“Oh, yes, beginner’s luck, Baby Bird.”

She raises her eyebrows and points at him, “Aha! So you admit I won.”

“I may have let you…”

(Y/N) scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, you got me. I wouldn’t go too easy on you.” Warren was headed for the kitchen, but (Y/N) was going in the opposite direction.

“I was gonna get a bite to eat. Wanna join me?”

“Um, I was going to shower first…”

“Oh… I’ll see you later then?”

(Y/N) was suddenly very awkward and nervous, “Um, yeah! Pfft, of course, uh— yeah. Yeah!”

“Great!” Warren was also suddenly somewhat nervous.

“Great!”

The two were on their separate paths, before (Y/N) turned back for a moment.

“You good?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, um,” (Y/N) kissed his cheek. It didn’t last long, but it left her heart pounding and Warren flustered.

“Thanks for today. I’m gonna go shower.”

#warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington x reader #x-men x reader #x men x reader #xmen x reader #angel x reader #archangel x reader #warren worthington iii x you #warren worthington iii oneshot #warren worthington x you #warren worthington oneshot #x-men oneshot #xmen oneshot #my writing #ben hardy x reader

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writingsforanyone · 3 years

Text

Forgotten Fling 2/7

Pairing: Y/N x Brett Talbot

Warnings: Guns

A/N: found this in my notes and realized i never continued this story, so i figured now is as good of a time as any! this is going to be slightly slowburn so there will be more parts!

++++++++++++++++++++++

“Y/N”

“Y/N!!”

You bolted upright, startled awake by your little brother Liam. You looked around and noticed you were in the some clothes from last night, with your essay notes and textbooks spread around you on the bed.

“What? What is it?” you said.

“We have to be at school in 20 minutes,” Liam said, before rushing out of your room.

You took a minute to recall the events from yesterday: school, the lacrosse game, your essay, Brett. Seeing Brett get off the bus, at the game, and most importantly: helping him at the clinic. You shook yourself back into reality and bolted into your bathroom. You looked into the mirror and saw your red face and puffy eyes, messy bun in your hair that you definitely forgot to wash last night. In simpler words: You looked terrible. After getting home from the clinic, you laid on top of your bed, and cried for hours ; homework long forgotten. You must’ve eventually fallen asleep and forgot to set your alarm, because the last thing you remember is recalling all of your memories with Brett.

You shook yourself back into reality, again, and kicked it into high gear. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, attempted to brush your hair, before throwing it into a slightly neater messy bun than before, and stripped out of your dirty clothes. You found the closest pair of clean leggings you could find, and a random crewneck from your closet. Finally, you went over to your bed and shoved all of your work from the night before into your bag and shoved your shoes on. You grabbed your keys and your phone and raced down the stairs.

“Finally! What took you so long?” Liam said.

You looked over and saw him sitting at the kitchen table, empty plate in front him.

“In case you forgot, I had kind of a rough night last night. Now let’s go, we have like 5 minutes to get to school.”

Considering you and Liam didn’t live far from the school, you didn’t have to speed too much to get there. After a silent car ride, you pulled into the parking lot just was the first bell was ringing. You both hurried into the school, halfheartedly saying goodbye to each other and heading to your respective classes. You slid into your English class just as the final bell rang and hurried over to your seat next to Lydia. She gave you a confused look to which you shook your head and faced the front.

At the end of class, you and Lydia walked out and started heading to your lockers, when she suddenly stopped you and stepped directly in front of you.

“Okay, what’s up with you? You’re never late to school, and you look sickly. Spill it.” she said.

“Is Brett on the deadpool?” you asked, ignoring her other comments.

“What?”

“Lydia, come on. I know you broke the second third of the list. Is he on it?”

“Yes.”

“How much is he worth?”

Lydia hesitated and took a deep breath, before saying, “1 million.”

You sucked in a breath. You weren’t surprised by her answers, but you definitely weren’t expecting your stomach to drop when she said it. The question had been in your head since the night before, and was a majority of the reason you had trouble sleeping.

“Okay. Thanks,” you said, turning around without a second glance, ignoring Lydia’s calls for you. You didn’t know why you were so upset when she told you. You knew Brett was a werewolf, so why wouldn’t he be on the deadpool? The bigger question: Why were you so worried about him?

—————————

Over the next week, you struggled with yourself over what was going on in your head. You were over Brett, right? He made you choose between him and your little brother. The two of you were never even together in the first place. It was just a fling, and occasional hookup, right?

Lydia spent the week trying to get you to talk about it and get it off of your chest, while Liam spent his time talking about how much he hated Brett. You, on the other hand, wanted to forget about it and focus on the more important thing at hand, the deadpool. Since you didn’t have any supernatural abilities, you practiced the one thing you knew you could do to help: shooting a gun.

Your stepfather taught you how to shoot a gun when you were younger, but you never really took a big interest in them until you found out about the supernatural. You knew you had to have a way to protect yourself, and the ones you cared about, so you practiced. At first, you would go with your stepdad to the gun range as often as possible, but with his schedule as a doctor, picking out a specific time was hard. That’s when Scott introduced you to Braeden. Braeden helped you learn more about shooting a gun in the first week than you had ever known. Now, months later, if you weren’t helping the pack figure out who the Benefactor was, you were with Braeden. Shooting helped you get your mind off of everything going on, especially you conflicted thoughts about Brett.

“Are you picking me up from practice?” Liam asked as you were walking out of the high school at the end of the day.

“No, I’ve got plans. Can Scott take you?”

“I’ll ask him. What are you even doing anyway? You’ve barely been home all week.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, okay?” you said as you walked over to your car, leaving Liam to wonder where you were off to. You hadn’t told Liam that you had been spending most of your time either at the range or with Braeden, but you weren’t sure why. Scott and Lydia both knew, but you made them promise not to tell Liam. Regardless, you got in your car and threw your bag into the passenger side, before heading off towards the range where you were meeting Braden.

As you pulled into the parking lot, you saw Braeden leaning against her car.

“Hey Y/N, you ready to do this?”

“I always am,” you replied while getting out of your car.

The two of you headed in and immediately got to work, you practicing with your favorite weapon: a Glock 19. According to California laws, you weren’t old enough to carry a firearm, but due to the circumstances, Braeden gave you one. You hadn’t had the need to use it yet, but it was more so a safety precaution incase you ever did need to.

_____________________

You had no idea how much time had passed since you got to the range, but Braeden was long gone when you got a call from Scott.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey Y/N, are you still at the range?” Scott rushed out.

“Yeah, why?”

“Look, normally i wouldn’t have called you for this, but I figured you’d want to know. Kira is on her way to the school. Brett and his sister are in trouble.”

“I’m on my w-,” you started to say, before Scott cut you off.

“Be careful okay? We don’t know what these people are capable of,” he said.

“I can handle myself Scott. I’ll let you know what happens,” you said, before hanging up the phone. You grabbed all of your belongings as quickly as you could before running out of the building and to your car. At this point it was pouring down rain, and you struggled to see as you drove to the school for the second time that day. You had no idea who you were up against, or what they were doing, all you knew is that Brett was in trouble, and you were not about to let him be the next casualty of the deadpool. You spotted Kira getting out of her car as soon as you pulled into the parking lot, and you didn’t even bother to park in a spot before stopping the car and turning it off. You looked over at the gun and the extra magazines laying in your passenger seat, debating if you should bring them or not. You grabbed them before you could change your mind, and got out of the car and ran over to Kira.

“Did Scott call you?” she yelled at you over the rain.

“Yeah he figured I’d want to be here. Any idea where they are?” you asked. Just as she was about to answer, you saw one of the stadium light on the lacrosse field come on, and the both of you took off in that direction. By the time you reached the field, all of the lights had come on, Kira and yourself were soaked from the rain, and you spotted Brett and Lori standing in the middle of the field. You also spotted the multiple assassins at the other end of the field, all with different weapons aiming for the chests of the young werewolves. Kira broke off in a sprint, you right on her heels, to the middle of the field. One of the assassins shot an arrow, and Kira was able to get to it and slice it in half just before it would have come into connect with Brett’s chest. You pulled your gun out of the back of your waistband, before you and Kira both turned to the siblings and yelled,

“Run!”

Both Brett and Lori opened their eyes and saw the two of you. You made eye contact with Brett, and when he didn’t move, you yelled at him again,

“Brett, get out of here! Take Lori and get to Deaton’s clinic!”

Brett hesitated, but upon seeing Kira slice another arrow in half, and the gun in your hand, he took off with Lori. At this point you had turned your attention towards the assassins that were shooting at you and Kira left and right. You struggled to see in the rain, but you aimed for the legs and started shooting. You didn’t want to kill anyone, you just wanted them to stop shooting and leave. You hit one of the men in the leg, and that’s when they took off. You looked over at Kira to see her breathing hard, you doing the same.

“Come on let go. We can call Scott on the way,” Kira said, grabbing your arm before the two of you ran to your cars. Kira agreed to call Scott on the way, and the both of you headed to the veterinary clinic. As you were driving, you took into account everything that just happened, and realized that the adrenaline had to have accounted for most of it.

“I just shot someone,” you thought, suddenly feeling like you were going to throw up.

“I just shot someone, who was trying to assassinate the boy I’m in love with,” you thought again. You didn’t realize that you had started to cry at the possibility of Brett almost dying, once again. This was the first time since seeing Brett get off of the bus, that you admitted to yourself that you still loved him. By this point, you had arrived at the clinic, and you saw that Kira was already walking in the door. You took a minute to compose yourself, wiping the tears off of your face. you turned off the ignition and went into the clinic, not expecting to see Brett’s entire pack, including his Alpha, in the back. You avoided eye contact with him and made your way over to Deaton, who was talking to Kira about what happened.

“Who’s idea was it to bring them here?” he asked.

“Mine. This was the first place i thought off, but I didn’t realize there was this many people in the pack,” You answered.

“Well, I’d say it was a good idea to bring them here. Has anyone called Scott?” Deaton asked again.

“I called him on the way over here. Liam’s with him,” Kira said, looking over at you. You realized now was as good of a time as any to tell your brother what you had been up too, since he would probably have found out eventually. Just then, you heard the bell over the front door sound, and you and Kira both ran out to see the boys. You ran too Liam and crushed him in a hug, while Kira went over to Scott and kissed him.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Liam said sounding worried.

“I’m fine. I’ll explain everything later, I promise,” you said, before looking at Scott and Kira.

“Did you find him? Did you find Brett?” Scott asked.

“Actually, I think we found all of them,” Kira said, before leading the four of you into the back room.

“Satomi, this is who I was telling you about,” Kira said, gesturing to Scott. Satomi nodded and smiled before saying,

“I know who Scott McCall is.”

“Are we safe here?” Lori suddenly asked, looking only at you. When you and Brett were “together,” you had become close with Lori, treating her like your little sister. You looked over at her and smiled, before saying,

“For now, yeah, you’re safe.” You looked over at Brett for the first time since you were on the lacrosse field, and you just barely caught the soft smiled on his lips. You wanted to look away, to look anywhere besides him, but you couldn’t. Brett was having the same problem. He wanted to break the eye contact, but he couldn’t either. Unbeknownst to the other one, memories of the two of you flooded both of your minds. Memories of when the two of you were happy together kept playing in your mind, and you didn’t want them to stop. It just seemed like everything around the both of you stopped, like you and Brett were the only two in the room, until,

“We’re gonna need help. A lot of help,” Scott said. You ripped your eyes away from Brett’s and looked over the Scott, before saying,

“I’ll call Braeden. You call Argent.” With that, you spun on your heel and headed outside, where it was still raining, but not quite as hard. The whole eye contact thing with Brett made you feel like you were going to throw up for the second time that night, but this time, you actually did it. You ran to the back of the building and threw up, all of the events of the night finally catching up to you: Saving Brett and Lori, the assassins, shooting someone. When you were done, you moved to lean on the side of the building, letting the rain hit you and calm you down. You were crying again, and you realized that you seemed to be crying a lot these days, something you never used to do. You hated crying because it made you feel weak.

Preoccupied with your thoughts, you didn’t hear Liam come up beside and you and ask if you were okay. You jumped at the sound of his voice, before saying,

“I need to tell you something. A lot of things actually.”

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #brett talbot imagines #brett talbot imagine #brett talbot #scott mccal imagine #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey #deadpool #tumblr #imagines #imagine

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samdeancass · 4 years

Text

SuperWolf

Requested by: @kikikittykis

Pairing: Scott x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Characters: Y/N, Dean, Sam, Scott, Stiles, Derek

Description: Supernatural/Teen wolf Crossover!

"So, there have been multiple reports of murders going on in a town called Beacon Hills in central California. I think we should check it out."

Dean was sitting across from Sam, legs crossed over each other on the table and nursing a whiskey. "Murders, OK. But what makes this our sort of thing. Murders happen in small towns all the time."

Sam leaned in closer to the laptop screen and read through the article again. "It says that there were claw marks left on some of the bodies. Others were left completely mangled. I'd say that would definitely make this our sort of thing."

Dean sat upright in his chair and placed his whiskey on the table. "I don't know, Sammy. Sound just like a normal animal attack to me. I don't want to go all the way to Cali just to find out that animals have been munching on people. It just doesn't seem worth it to me."

Sam closed the laptop lid abruptly and got up from the table. "We've travelled further on less, Dean. I've got a feeling about this one. Go and get Y/N. We're leaving in 10." Sam walked away from the table and towards his room, leaving Dean sitting at the table. "Why am I always the one to get her? He knows that she hates leaving before having something to eat. She's gonna bite my fucking head off." Dean stood up from the table and made his way to your room, giving three quiet taps on the door.

You were sat upright on your bed, pillows supporting your back. Your stomach was beginning to rumble and you were about to get food when the knocks sounded at your door. "Come in!". The green eyed hunter entered your room with a sheepish look on his face. "Y/N/N, Sam's found us a case. Multiple mangled bodies in Cali. We're leaving in 10."

You groaned in response and slammed your book down on your bed. "Come on, seriously! How does this always happen when I'm going to get something to eat?! Fine, I'll be ready in 5." Dean quickly closed his door and made his way to his room, muttering under his breath how he's gonna get Sam back.

The journey to California was long and tiring. Sam and Dean were constantly bickering with each other which made you want to pull your hair out. You stopped at a few gas stations and filled the hungry void in your stomach which improved your mood a little. You all checked into a motel and began to research what the culprit could be.

"It seems like all of the murders are happening around the high school. We need somebody to go undercover and try to find out some information." Sam was sat at the table, huddled over a map. Dean looked at you as Sam finished his sentence, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Nope. No way. No fucking way, guys. I'm not going back to school. You've got no chance." You shook your head violently, completely refusing. "I had a terrible time at school. Why don't you guys do it?"

Sam and Dean smiled at each other. "Oh yeah, ok. I'm sure two fully grown men would be allowed to attend a high school, Y/N. C'mon, it'll only be until we've found what the hell this son of a bitch is and then we'll be gone." Sam flashed you his puppy dog eyes which immediately melted you.

"Fine!" You crossed your arms over your chest and sulked a little. "Sam, you really need to stop using those eyes, it's not very fair." He walked over to you and engulfed you into a bear hug, which immediately lifted your mood. "You know you love me." "Yeah, whatever. Let's get me registered so I can get this over and done with."

Scott and Stiles were walking down the hallway, whispering between themselves. "And what are you two girls whispering about?" They both stopped short when they seen Derek standing 2 feet in front of them, arms crossed and a smug smile plastered onto his face.

"What makes you think that we're acting like girls? Just because we whisper a lot and keep secrets doesn't mean we're acting - yep we're acting like girls." A red blush rose on Stiles' cheeks as he turned away from Derek, clearly embarrassed.

"What are you doing here, Derek? I thought you were staying away from us?" Scott gave Derek a questioning glare before delving into the depths of his locker to find his school books. "I need your help, Scott. Another body has been found and it looks like it was a wolf kill. We need to try and find whoever is doing this and stop them before we attract unwanted attention."

Scott turned around and opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Derek tried to get his attention but failed so he decided to see what, or who, Scott was looking at.

Far across in the corner of the hallway, you were stuffing your useless school books in to your locker whilst talking on the phone to Dean. "This is absolutely pointless, I'm not going to find anything here, Dean." "How do you know that? You haven't even tried yet." You could practically hear the eye roll in his voice and huffed in response. "I swear, if this ends up wasting my time, Winchester, I'm gonna beat your ass."

You heard muffled laughter from the other side of the phone and hung up, internally screaming. You turned around and began to walk up the hallway to your 'class' when you felt two pairs of eyes on you. You turned around to confront these people but stopped dead in your tracks, a slight blush creeping onto your face.

"She's noticed you, McCall. Go and say something! We can talk about our wolf problem later." Scott growled a little when Derek pushed him towards you, eyes flashing red in his direction. Derek held his hands up and pulled Stiles away by his ear to stop him from eavesdropping. "Hey! Why does he always get the girls?!"

Scott shuffled forward slowly towards you, anxiety wrecking his body. He hadn't felt like this about a girl since Allison, and with what happened to her, he was a little hesitant to even think about dating another girl. You let out a breath to calm your nerves as he walked towards you.

Scott shuffled the remaining distance between you two and glanced up at you shyly. A blush rose up on your cheeks under Scott's stare. You cleared your throat quietly and began to speak.

"Hey, I'm Y/N L/N. I'm new here." You held out your hand and Scott took it, shaking it. "I'm Scott McCall, lovely to meet you. Maybe, if you wanted, I could show you around the town? There's a diner in town that sells the best milkshakes." You thought for a second before nodding your head. "That would be great, thank you." Scott led you out of the school entrance and made your way towards the diner.

"What the hell is she doing in there? She's supposed to be undercover, not going on dates!" Dean was sitting behind the wheel of the Impala, nostrils flaring in anger.

Dean and Sam had followed you to the restaurant so they could make sure you were safe.

"Is it the fact that she's not investigating or that she's with a boy?" Sam looked at his brother accusingly, knowing what the answer was.

Dean opened his mouth to say something but soon closed it when he seen you and Scott leaving the restaurant. You spotted the jet black 67 chevy in the parking lot and rolled your eyes inwardly. You turned to Scott and pressed a kiss to his cheek before saying goodbye and making your way towards the car. Both of the brothers braced themselves when you said into the backseat.

"What are you two doing here? I was investigating." You sat in the back with your arms crossed over your chest in frustration. You heard Dean take a deep breath before turning around to confront you.

"Yeah, it sure looked like investigating. What was that kiss you gave him? Looks to me like you were on a date! That's not what we're here to do!" Sam could tell Dean's anger was getting the better of him so he decided to step in.

"I think what Dean's trying to say is, don't get distracted. This job is very important and we don't want to get side tracked." Sam gave you a small smile before placing a hand on Dean's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

You nodded in understanding. "I know that, but I really was investigating. I was seeing if Scott knew anything about the attacks that was going on, but he didn't."

You were lucky that the brothers didn't have any telekinetic abilities to read minds because at this point they knew that you were lying. Sure, you were investigating but Scott had told you something very important and you didn't want the Winchesters to know because you knew how they would react.

"Scott? Is that his name? Kinda young for you don't ya think?" You gave Dean a slap to the back of the head. "So what? It's not like you've been able to hit on anything older than you." Sam sniggered at your reply whilst you sat back smugly.

Dean cleared his throat before getting to the root of why they were in Beacon Hills. "Well, I know you didn't find out anything about this wolf, but me and Sammy did. We're going to head out tonight to catch this son if a bitch so we should be home by morning."

Your eyes went wide. You hadn't expected them to narrow down their search so quickly. You couldn't let them hunt down this wolf, at any cost. "And what exactly did you find out? Surely its not trustworthy?"

At the other side of the parking lot, Scott was standing next to his motorbike, listening in to your conversation. Anger grew in his body. "She's a hunter?! Why didn't she tell me?"

His eyes turned red before getting on his bike and riding away before he could hear the rest of the conversation.

Sam and Dean looked at each other and began to laugh. "Whats with all the questions, Y/N? You usually don't need anything trustworthy to hunt down monsters?!"

You shrugged in response. "I don't know, I guess its just a little too quick for my liking. Can we maybe sit on this for a little whilst we delve into the situation some more?" The brothers shook their head in confusion before turning back to the front of the car. "Alright, just one night though. Then we're definitely going to hunt it down."

You and the brothers parted ways for the night and checked into your own rooms. Immediately, you threw your bags down on the floor and pulled out your phone, dialling Scott's number.

The dialling tone rang for a few seconds before Scott picked up. "What?" Your face contorted in confusion at Scott's aggressive manner. "Woah, what's the matter with you?"

You could hear Scott's breathing becoming more heavy on the other side of the line. "Why didn't you tell me you were a hunter and you were hunting one if my kind?!"

Dread filled your whole body as you sat down on the bed in an attempt to stabilise yourself. "You weren't supposed to find out about that. I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to protect you. Other hunters aren't like me, they don't sympathise like I do."

Scott's breathing began to slow down a little as he processed the new information. "You should have told me, I would have understood. But please, leave this situation to us, we've got this handled. It'll be sorted by the end of the night."

You and Scott carried on the conversation for a few more minutes before hanging up. You lay back on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Loud bangs on the door awoke you the next morning. You groaned at few loudness and swore inwardly at the people who dared wake you. You opened the door and found the Winchesters smiling widely at you.

"What do you want? Don't you know its rude to wake up a woman?" You walked slowly back into your room before flouncing back down on the bed.

"Good morning to you to". Dean walked in and grumbled slightly under his breath before you narrowing your eyes at him in response. "Turns out, it was just a wolf that was killing people. The cops found it this morning."

You sat up straight and stared at Sam. "Really?" Sam nodded in response as Dean took a seat at the table. "I told you it was a waste if time travelling down here, that it was just a normal animal attack. But did you listen to me? Nooooo."

Sam shook his head at Dean's childish actions. "Me and Dean have already checked out. We'll be waiting for you in the car when you're ready."

You gathered your belongings together after getting dressed and headed out to the Impala, handing in your keys at the desk after.

"Guys, can we please make a stop at the high school first. I need to say goodbye to Scott." Dean rolled his eyes in the mirror and began to place his foot down harder on the accelerator.

You had texted Scott to tell him you were on your way. He was waiting outside the school when the Impala pulled up. You got out of the car and walked towards him.

"Thank you for stalling them, Y/N. We managed to catch the wolf before they did anymore damage. I'm so sorry I was angry at you, I should be used to things like that by now."

You placed a warm hand on Scott's face which he leaned in to. "You don't have to say sorry. You had a right to be worried, given what you are. So thank you for catching whoever it was before those two got their hands on it."

Scott laughed in response. "So I guess this is goodbye then?" You nodded. "For now, yes. But I'll be back to visit my favourite werewolf."

Scott blushed at this before crashing his lips on yours in a passionate goodbye. After a few seconds, you both parted away from each other. He kissed your hands before you walked away.

"I'll text and call you, OK?" Scott nodded before waving goodbye and heading back into the school.

You slid into the backseat of the car when the brothers turned to face you, smug smiles on their faces.

"Looks like somebody's found someone she likes."

"Just drive you idiot."

You smiled to yourself and began counting down the days you'll be back in Beacon Hills.

#supernatural #supernatural fandom #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #spn #spn fandom #spn family #supernatural/teen wolf crossover #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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noyoucantpinmedown · 3 years

Text

Springtime Swap

For this year's Springtime Swap I had to write for @totaldramablueyonder! This was a lot of fun. I've never written Katie and Sadie so it was good to try them out. I hope you like it!

Courtney didn't have friends. Never had. Never needed to. She got along well enough with her classmates to be somewhat popular, and that was all she needed to be named Student Council President.

But then Katie Ayala and Sadie Li joined the Student Council.

Those two were the chattiest girls Courtney had ever known. Whenever they bumped into each other in the hallways, they would keep her there for a good five minutes before she could excuse herself, and then she'd be late to wherever she was going. And Courtney hated being late.

So when she found out Katie and Sadie were being elected, she had to hold back the urge to slam her head against a wall.

But they impressed her. They showed up to the very first meeting in matching pink pantsuits- their outfits were always coordinated. They proposed doing a bake sale to raise money for homecoming, which Sadie made the budget plans for. Katie got half the school to buy something and charmed the other half into caving in and buying as well. In the end they raised a lot more money than they were aiming for. They were competent, and Courtney could always respect that.

"Courtney!" She heard Katie's high pitched voice from down the hallway, always distinct among the murmuring of the students. In a second, she and Sadie were standing by her locker. "Sadie and I were going to hang out at my house, do you wanna come?"

She blinked. "Oh, um...well thanks, but I have a lot of homework to do and--"

"Oh, that's okay, we do too!" Sadie piped up. "We can all do it together."

Shit. "I just--"

"Come on, it'll be so much fun!"

Courtney sighed and closed her locker. "Fine, okay, I'll come." The girls squealed. "But I can only stay until six, okay?"

Katie was already linking arms with her, Sadie on her other side. "Sure! We'll drive you home!"

The three climbed into Sadie's car, where the talking mingled with the music coming from the radio, which Katie had plugged her phone into.

Katie's walls were painted pink, and the white comforter on her bed was so thick and soft it almost looked like a cloud. "Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?"

Courtney sat down on the bed and began taking out her books. "I'd like some coffee, if you have any."

"I want coffee too!"

Katie nodded and left for downstairs, leaving Courtney alone with Sadie. Which was awkward, because while she wasn't close to either of the girls, she got on with Katie better. Sadie went quiet, so she guessed the feeling was mutual. She looked around the room, looking for something to make conversation with.

There were several posters of singers and bands on the walls. Courtney recognised Selena Quintanilla, One Direction and Little Mix among them. The desk by the window had been taken over by a sewing machine, pattern books and other sewing supplies.

"I didn't know Katie sowed."

"We both do. We make or alter a lot of our clothes", Sadie explained. She was laying down on the bed next to her. "That's how we always match. It's hard to find clothes that have both of our sizes, so..."

"That's really smart."

"Okayy, here's coffee!" Katie stepped through the doorway with a tray, which she set down on her nightstand. "I think we should start with math, just so we get it out of the way."

Courtney was worried that they would get distracted and not get any work done, but despite talking as they worked, they managed to finish all of their work, perhaps faster than Courtney would have done on her own.

When they were done, Katie put on some music and sat at her desk. She had brought a plate with cookies from downstairs. Courtney took a bite out of one while she checked her social media. Sadie was doing the same, and humming along to the music. The three weren't talking, but Courtney felt so relaxed. It really wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. The complete opposite, in fact.

"Katie, I was thinking we could use the fabric from the pantsuits to make rompers, or like a cute top and skirt combo."

The taller girl looked away from the shirt she was replacing a button on. "What? But the pantsuits turned out so well! And taking the stitches out is going to be such a pain."

"Well, yeah, but when are we going to wear them? Like, we literally just made them for the Student Council, and the fabric cost a lot!"

Courtney locked her phone and put it down. "I think Sadie has a good point."

Katie sighed, looking over at the open closet where the hot pink pant and suit jacket were visible. "A top and skirt in this color does sound nice. Oh my God, if we work quickly we could wear them to Geoff's next party."

Sadie looked somewhat satisfied before the prospect of a party distracted her. "He's throwing another one? When?"

Of course he was throwing another party. Geoff was the star quarterback of the school's football team, and his parties were infamous. He was easily the most popular person in school- everybody liked him, and he liked everyone. If he had thought to run for Student Council President, he could probably have given Courtney a run for her money.

"DJ told me that two weeks from now, his parents will be out of town. Oh!" A sudden idea hit her. She patted Courtney's knees to get her attention. "Court, you never come, we should all go together!"

"Oh my God, you totally should! You're like, friends with Bridgette, right? I'm sure she can get you an invite."

Geoff's girlfriend was in the volleyball team with Courtney. They sometimes talked in the hallways, and she liked the girl's laid back, yet grounded attitude. "Yes, we're friend...ish, I guess. But my parents would never let me go. And I have a curfew."

That didn't phase Katie. "You can just tell them you're having a sleepover at my house."

Her eyes widened. "Lie to them? I can't do that!"

She had never lied to her parents, not once. She had never disobeyed them, either.

"It wouldn't be a lie, we'd actually sleep over here after the party." Sadie grabbed a cookie from the plate. "Come on, it'll be so much fun."

"Yeah! Who knows, you might even meet someone."

"Oh, stop!" Sadie rolled her eyes at the suggestive look her best friend gave her. "She's hellbent on finding me the perfect girlfriend." She explained to Courtney.

That made her smile. "That's sweet."

"Do you have your eye on anyone, Court?"

She thought back to Alejandro, the charming exchange student who was too much of a flirt and a sweet-talker for her liking. Then to Duncan, which her recoil- she would die if anyone knew she had ever been attracted to him. Finally they landed on the red-haired boy from shop class that had been so helpful during the bake sale. Just a few days before, she had opened her locker to find someone had slipped a daisy inside through the slits at the top. It was a little damaged from having to fit through such a small opening. She had turned around to see who it might have been, and he was watching her from the other side of the hall. When she caught his eye, he blushed as red as his hair then walked away as quickly as he could.

"Please don't tell anyone."

The girls squealed. "No, of course not!"

"Promise!" Katie offered her pinkie finger, and Sadie imitated her. Courtney pinkie swore with both of them, a giddy smile forming on her face.

"Okay, you know Scott? He built the food stands for the bake sale. Tall, ginger hair, a year below us."

"Oh my God! He totally did that because he likes you. I saw how he looked at you when you thanked him."

"Actually..." She told them about the daisy. The girls squealed again, and Katie reached down to squeeze Courtney's hands.

"That's so sweet!"

"Oh my God, that's so cute!"

"You guys think? I know I can come off a bit strong sometimes. He probably thinks I'm the annoying Student Council chick."

Sadie shook her head. "Why wouldn't he like you? You're, like, super smart, and super pretty too! And some guys like girls with strong personalities."

"Yeah, you're gorgeous. He totally likes you back. He'll probably be at the party, you know. He hangs a lot with Duncan, and Duncan and Geoff are super close."

Courtney cringed inwardly at the mention of the school's resident bad boy, but the idea of going to the party was getting more and more appealing. She could picture herself dancing with the girls, and maybe Bridgette too. Letting loose for once. Feeling as happy as she was feeling now. Maybe she could find Scott and talk to him.

She had been so wrong about these girls- not that she'd ever say it aloud. They weren't vapid, or stupid. They were geninuely kind and skilled.

"You know what?" She said, "the sleepover sounds like a good idea."

#springtime swap #td writers #my writing #td katie #td sadie #td courtney

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Long Way From Home: Chapter 9

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Meant to update this last night but forgot, whoops. The shopping trip continues, so that means one thing: more Scott&TOS!Gordon. Hope you like this duo because there’s a lot of it to come :D Also no full panic attacks in this chapter, but there are a couple of occasions where he starts spiralling before something stops him, so here’s a vague warning for that, I guess?

<<<Chapter 8

Other-Gordon didn’t start talking until the engine was running.

“You still okay to keep going?”

“I’m fine.” It came out sharper than it was supposed to, and he winced.

“If that’s what you say.” Other-Gordon sounded dubious, but didn’t press the matter, to Scott’s relief. “Can’t say I blame you. This is crazy enough for me; I can’t imagine how bad it is for you.”

“Don’t tell them.” Other-Scott had already caught him on the edge of an outburst once, and they’d all seen him explode in the hangar, but Scott needed to seem at least somewhat in control.

Especially in front of Not-Dad.

Amber eyes analysed him for a moment. “The fellas won’t think less of you for it, Scott.” The words hung in the air, Scott not bothering to respond despite Other-Gordon giving him the opportunity, and the ginger sighed. “Scott should know, in case something gets out about it. Madeleine’s discreet enough, but…”

Scott swallowed, but saw the sense in that.

“Besides, I fully intend on sending him out to collect all the clothes, so he’ll find out anyway.” There was a grin on Other-Gordon’s face that Scott subconsciously labelled trouble. He’d seen it enough on his own Gordon’s face to know that Other-Scott was in for a prank or two. “You can’t talk in public and it’d look mighty odd for the rest of us to be picking them up.”

That definitely made sense.

“So where to next?” he asked, deciding to change the subject rather than let that one linger. Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.

“We might as well get your workman’s clothes out of the way,” he said. “Luckily for you, I do know somewhere we can get those.”

He put his foot down and the car started moving, rolling out of the parking lot and onto the main streets again.

“Say,” he continued. “What was with the poke?”

It took Scott a moment to remember what he was referring to, the fiasco of the fitting rooms having almost pushed it from his mind.

“To get your attention,” he said. “Don’t you guys do that?”

“The fellas do,” Other-Gordon admitted. “But not to me.” The words were laced with an undercurrent of bitterness, reminding Scott of their discussions about the rescues he was kept off of. “They tap me on the arm.” Scott frowned.

“They think you’re that fragile?”

The man shrugged. “Father does.” There was a heavy pause. “It’s strange. It’s not as though you don’t know about the crash, but you don’t treat me any different to the other fellas.”

Scott kept his eyes on the road in front of them. “From what I can tell, you’re just as fit as my Gordon,” he said. “He’d make my life hell if I treated him like he was broken. Well, I did, at first,” he admitted. “When he was in hospital, and then through the physio afterwards. I… I was terrified something would go wrong.” He’d never told anyone that before, but Other-Gordon… Something told him Other-Gordon needed to hear it. “But he wasn’t having any of it.” A fond grin crept onto his face uninvited, but he didn’t try and force it away. “Gordon’s tough, stronger than the rest of us put together, probably. I won’t lie, it took me a while, but I trust him to know his limits. If he’s having a bad day, if he can’t go out, he tells me. Otherwise…” he shrugged. “He can handle it.”

Other-Gordon’s hands were tight on the wheel.

“I’ve only known you a few hours,” he continued. “So maybe I’m wrong, but you seem just as strong. I figure if something’s too much, you’ll say.”

“Well, I do know my own limits,” the ginger agreed. “You know, I’d almost forgotten what a jab in the ribs felt like.” Scott glanced across to see his lips pulled into a grin. “Who knows, maybe the fellas could learn a thing or two while you’re here.”

Scott laughed, unsure if the unspoken message was simply permission or a plea, but hearing it anyway. “Maybe.”

Silence lingered between them for a moment, scoring a line under that enlightening conversation. Scott was glad for it – in many respects, most respects, Other-Gordon was still a stranger. Telling him things he’d never even told his own family, even if he was fairly certain Gordon suspected more than he let on, felt decidedly weird. He didn’t regret it, though, because even if Other-Gordon was basically a stranger, he was also Gordon.

Trying to wrap his head around that idea was definitely a challenge.

The fact that Scott had got the feeling he’d needed to hear it made him wonder exactly what Other-Gordon’s relationship with his family was. Father does, he’d said. No mention of his brothers. Just how much did Not-Dad rule the roost?

“We’re nearly there,” Other-Gordon said, interrupting his chain of thought. “Custom is going to be tricky without you talking, so give me the run-down now. Blue?”

“Are you guessing that based on the last shop or on what your Scott likes?” Scott asked.

“Both. Am I right?” He was still gathering information. Then again, Scott was, too.

“You’re right,” he confirmed. “Something easy to move in, too.”

Other-Gordon let out a chuckle as he pulled into a parking lot. Scott missed the name of the place. “The fellas are gonna have something to say when they see it,” he mused. Scott raised an eyebrow at him; he hadn’t forgotten the ginger’s own reaction to the idea. “Well, we should be able to get the jeans and hoodie here.”

“Sounds good.” Scott was already impatient for the trip to be over. It had nothing to do with Other-Gordon – his company was about as good as he could have expected to get – and everything to do with the ill-timed realisation of his situation. He watched Other-Gordon get out of the car, focusing on the lever on how it operated, before mimicking the movement on the lever his side. Other-Gordon looked amused when he finished his walk around the car to see him extracting himself.

“I should have figured you wouldn’t need help a second time,” he commented. “But remember, you lost a bet and don’t want to be here. Try not to look too enthusiastic.”

“Decided on the bet, yet?” Scott asked him, and Other-Gordon sent him a look. From the gleam in his eye, he knew exactly what bet had supposedly been lost, and it was not going to be something either he or Other-Scott was happy about. That look was dangerous on Gordon, and it was no doubt equally so on the ginger in front of him. “Going to tell me?”

The grin said no, he wasn’t. Scott sighed.

“If we’re going to hit the paparazzi, it’ll be here,” Other-Gordon told him instead. “Remember, head down, mouth shut, let me do all the talking.”

Scott nodded, remembering Other-Scott saying something similar back on the island. Gordon can handle the paparazzi.

“And Scott,” the aquanaut continued, his voice quieter. Calmer, reminiscent of the fitting rooms at Lemaires’. “If you need to get out, tap me four times.” It was Scott’s turn to give the younger man a look; after the almost disaster with the shirts, a signal was a good idea, but knowing that Other-Gordon thought they needed to establish one implied that he wasn’t hiding his unease as well as he was hoping.

“Four for Four?” At least it was easy to remember, on the chance he would need it. He sincerely hoped not.

“Four for Four,” Other-Gordon confirmed, a small grin on his face, before that grin transformed back into the amused cat got the cream of a younger brother who’d got one over on an older brother and was entirely too satisfied about it.

In a way, Scott supposed he had. It didn’t make him any happier about it, and the wary looks he was sending the younger man weren’t entirely for show as Other-Gordon confidently led the way to the front door of the shop and strode in as though he owned it. Scott was left with no choice but to trail behind him and try to ignore the gawks of what looked like the entire shop.

The stunned silence appeared to have blanketed over everyone, all eyes on the two Tracys making their way to the nearest salesperson, and it was several long seconds before anyone else in the shop moved. Hissed words accompanied the hubbub as life slowly trickled back into the shop. Scott was certain he heard Tracys muttered in an astonished undertone.

This really wasn’t their usual shop, it appeared. That was a pain, because as Scott looked around, he could see that the clothes here looked the most like the clothes he liked. Polos and jeans lined the shelves, and Scott immediately flagged multiple that he’d willingly wear.

Not being allowed to talk was suddenly a real pain.

“Mr Tracy and Mr Tracy, what an unexpected pleasure!” The salesman Other-Gordon had beelined for was doing little to cover his surprise, which worked in Scott’s favour as the title put him on edge, but Other-Gordon just flashed him a grin.

“Mr Tracy would be our father. Call me Gordon, and this is Scott,” he corrected, much to Scott’s relief. He’d never got used to being called Mr Tracy.

“As you wish, Gordon, Scott,” the man – his name tag said George – adjusted. He still looked a little star struck. “What would bring the illustrious Tracys to our shop?”

Gordon’s grin widened, if that was even possible. “This fella thought it’d be smart to bet I couldn’t beat the whole family in billiards,” he announced, loud enough that the whole shop no doubt heard it. Scott sent him a glare – he was better than Gordon at the game, and he suspected that held true in this universe as well. Other-Gordon wouldn’t be so gleeful otherwise. “The loser got a wardrobe makeover of the winner’s choice.” He shrugged. “I won, so Scott here needs some new clothes, if you could help with that?”

“But of course,” George scrambled to say. “What would you be after?”

“Well, Scott’s wardrobe is lacking in jeans, for the first.” He made it sound natural, not quite alienating the people shopping there while making it perfectly clear that Tracys didn’t normally wear them. “And I think one or two of your polos would be just the thing.”

Scott started – he’d never said polos. Other-Gordon must have caught him looking at them.

“Gee, no need to look quite so horrified, Scott,” the ginger commented. “George here might think you don’t want them!” He turned back to the man, who still looked rather out of his depth. “Poor fella lost his voice last night, so he can’t make his own comments.”

Scott rolled his eyes, and the ginger beamed.

“Luckily for him, I know exactly what he needs!”

“Right, of course,” the unfortunate George stammered. “If you’d like to follow me, then… sirs?”

“Lead the way,” Other-Gordon invited, and they were led into something that looked a lot like it was normally an office, and not open to the general public. It was a far cry from the lavish customer furnishings of the last place.

“What would you like to look at first?” George clearly had no idea which Tracy he was supposed to be addressing, from the way his eyes kept flicking between them. Scott decided to have a little pity on the man and leaned backwards, effectively removing himself from the conversation. Other-Gordon helped by leaning forwards, drawing more attention to himself.

“I think the jeans would be a good place to start. Could you fetch some examples?” he prompted.

“Of course. What size would you like to try?”

Other-Gordon answered without hesitation, leaving Scott to assume he had his brother’s sizes memorised, and George all but fled from the room, leaving the two of them alone. The door closed, and immediately Other-Gordon pressed up next to him.

“Which polos were you looking at?” he asked, quietly.

Scott told him, before raising a quizzical eyebrow. “You’re not complaining?”

“Aw, polos aren’t so bad. Scott has one or two himself, you know. Besides, I’d say it makes the story more convincing if we get a full outfit or two from here.”

He had a point.

The door opened again, and George entered, one arm laden with jeans. Well, they all looked the right size at least. With any luck, they wouldn’t need fitting.

Scott could live in hope.

“Do any of these suit?” the sales assistant asked, hanging them up one after the other on a rack against the wall. Scott eyed them all, suspecting that Other-Gordon was more likely to be paying attention to his reactions than the clothes themselves.

None of them were exactly like he was used to, but he supposed that was to be expected, considering the overall differences between the universes – and he was not going to think too hard on that one right now. Instead, they seemed to be geared more towards being form-fitting, not quite ‘skinny’, but definitely a lot tighter than the ones he wore at home. A couple of styles even seemed to be flared at the hem, a design that hadn’t been in fashion since Grandma’s time, and looked completely useless for doing any sort of exercise in without tripping over them.

He dismissed those immediately.

“You know, Scott, you’ve got to pick at least one,” Other-Gordon drawled. “A forfeit’s a forfeit, you know.”

So Other-Gordon was going to let him take the silent lead on this one? That made it easier, if nothing else. Scott stepped forwards, sorting through them one at a time until he found a pair that looked like they wouldn’t completely constrict his movement, and took it off of the rail.

“There is a changing room just through that door, if you’d like to try them on,” George offered, gesturing at a door set into the far wall. Scott nodded, and started to head for it. Movement from Other-Gordon made him pause, and he glanced at the ginger to see a querying look on his face.

Right. Last time he’d been out of the other man’s sight, he’d had a panic attack. Other-Gordon had good reason to be cautious, but Scott didn’t feel any warning signs of an impending one this time, so he shot him a reassuring grin before opening the door and walking through.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Scott waited a split second to make sure he didn’t suddenly descend into panic – not that he planned on calling Other-Gordon if he did; once was more than enough – before hurrying to get changed. The jeans were infinitely more comfortable than Other-Scott’s slacks, but that was to be expected. Scott wasn’t particularly fond of slacks.

They also fit pretty much perfectly. No ankles showing, but also not falling to the floor and getting caught underfoot. Other-Gordon also clearly did know his brother’s waist size, because it wasn’t too tight or falling down. The only problem was that they were a little tighter, particularly around the thighs, than he was used to, but that looked to just be a universal difference he’d just have to get used to.

Or hopefully not, because he wanted to go home sooner rather than later. His family must have discovered his disappearance by now and-

He cut that train of thought right there. There was going to be no more breakdowns in changing rooms, so he busied himself with making one last assessment of the jeans before pushing the door back open.

Other-Gordon was looking straight at the door, George nowhere in sight, and Scott knew he didn’t imagine the flash of relief on his face before amber eyes flicked down to the jeans.

“George went to start picking up polos,” he explained. “Everything alright?”

That was an obviously double-layered question, and Scott answered both with a single nod.

“Fabulous,” Other-Gordon grinned. “You’ll need more than one pair, though. Different colours of that one or different styles?”

Open-ended questions needed verbal answers; Scott glanced at the door leading to the rest of the store – still closed – before answering.

“Mostly colours,” he said. “If there’s another style that fits, I’ll take that, but I think this is the closest I’ll get. Not perfect, but…” He shrugged.

“Alright,” Other-Gordon nodded. “The rack’s still there, if you want to take another gander.” Well, there was no harm in that, even if Scott was dubious about finding any more practical ones amongst the too-tight and flared-hem designs dominating the selection.

There wasn’t. Maybe that was Scott also just wanting this trip to be over with, even if it meant speeding up his next no doubt probing conversation with one of the Other-Tracys, but he didn’t like the look of any of the others. He said as much to Other-Gordon, who took on that calculating look that was quickly becoming familiar, and not just because he’d seen it on Gordon too many times to count. Another piece in the puzzle for the ginger. Scott wondered what sort of picture he was putting together.

He also didn’t want to know.

“You’ll need quite a few of that one, if that’s the case,” Other-Gordon reminded him. “We can get you more later, if we can convince Scott to pretend he likes the clothes after all, but I’d say you need five or six.”

Scott nodded, but hoped they wouldn’t need to get more. He knew Other-John had said it could take years – a prediction that had something uncomfortable curling in his gut if he thought about it, because if time moved linearly in both universes then that was years with his family not knowing what had happened to him, just like with Dad but worse, and he couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t. They’d hold it together because his little brothers were strong, but it would hurt them. It would hurt them so, so much.

“So, colours.” Other-Gordon’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to the room and the jeans and away from the thoughts running rampart through his head. From the look on the other man’s face, he’d noticed that his mind had wandered. Scott still wasn’t sure if he liked how easily Other-Gordon seemed to be able to read him, but he supposed that was better than another breakdown.

He really had to get a grip.

“We should ask how many shades of blue these chaps can offer,” the aquanaut continued as the door opened. “I’d suppose there’s quite the variety.”

“We do have a variety of colours available,” George assured them, now carrying a stack of polos in various shades and colours. Some of them made Scott’s eyes water just to look at them. “Have you found anything?”

“I’d say what he’s wearing looks jolly good,” Other-Gordon said. “What shades of blue can you do on those?”

“Well, we have five shades available,” the sales assistant said. “I would have to check how many are in stock in Mr- er, Scott’s size.”

“He’ll have one of each,” Other-Gordon said. “If they’re not in stock, you can order them in, can’t you?”

“Of course! It may take some time for them to arrive, but we can definitely arrange that.”

Other-Gordon grinned. Scott swallowed back against threatening thoughts about time. “Fabulous! Now, how about those polos?”

At the full force of a Gordon who knew exactly what he wanted and how he was going to get it – Scott pitied George for that; Other-Gordon was proving to be as much of an occasional bulldozer as Gordon when it suited him and was definitely enjoying the lack of a restraining older brother stopping him – the man had little choice but to lay the offerings out for the pair of them to look at.

Scott instantly dismissed the ones that hurt his eyes to look at. Unlike the jeans, which despite being made of denim and therefore technically still jeans were cut in styles that were nothing like the ones he was used to, the polos looked a lot more familiar. He had no qualms about trimming the selection by the colours of the examples he was being shown, even if that was a shallow reason.

He still didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be on the island – preferably his Tracy Island, in his universe, and not stuck here trying to find clothes for his inevitably long stay in a world where strangers wore his family’s names, personalities, and even looks.

“This one?” Other-Gordon cut in again, appearing beside him and reaching for a blue one he hadn’t pushed aside yet. Scott blinked and realised his hands had stilled on the rack. Sharp amber eyes were watching him carefully, one of the man’s arms close enough to his hand that he’d brush it if he moved his fingers the right way.

Scott purposefully didn’t touch, keeping an inch or so of air between them in a clear but silent message to Other-Gordon. He was not giving up on the trip. Instead he poked and prodded at the polo in question. It looked worth a try, so he unhooked the hanger from the rack and let the material fall over his arm.

There was a decidedly disapproving air from the man next to him, but Other-Gordon didn’t say anything. Scott didn’t acknowledge it either, dragging his mind back on task and brushing through the rest of the polos on the rack until he had a sizeable pile folded over his arm.

With no excuse, Other-Gordon couldn’t justify following him into the changing room, but it was abundantly obvious that he wanted to. Scott just wanted this to be over with, so when the ginger grinned at him and proclaimed that he wanted to see every single one, he glared at him.

Other-Gordon wasn’t perturbed in the slightest, chivvying him towards the door and ignoring George as he stood redundantly by the dismissed polos. “For your favourite brother?” he wheedled, before a grin lit up his face. It didn’t reach his eyes, but Scott could tell it was only a show for their audience anyway. “Remember, this is a forfeit, Scott!”

For my own peace of mind, that translated as. Reading the subtext behind the younger man’s words was as natural as breathing to Scott, which he put down to the similarities between the two Gordons. He rolled his eyes in an attempt to persuade Other-Gordon that he was fine and not on the edge of another panic attack, before slipping back into the room and shutting the door in his face.

A little rude, and definitely coming off as ungrateful – he wasn’t; he knew it came from care and if their positions were reversed he would absolutely be doing the same if he hadn’t just overridden all protests and taken them back to the airport already – but Scott really didn’t want to be hovered over.

The waistcoat and shirt were shrugged off, hat and sunglasses temporarily removed, before he yanked the first polo on with more aggression than the action really deserved. Scott grit his teeth. He really had to get himself back under control. Other-Gordon had good reason to be worried, and the fact that they were technically strangers was doing nothing to temper it. But then, what did he expect? He was still an operative of International Rescue.

Other-Gordon was also one of the few people in the universe that he was even vaguely comfortable around. Alienating him would do more harm than good.

With a sigh, he tugged the hat and sunglasses back on and opened the door to dutifully show the polo. It fit fine, he supposed. Not too baggy, but not restrictive, either. It was definitely better than any shirts he’d worn so far in the universe.

Unsurprisingly, Other-Gordon was more interested in his face than his clothes, clearly checking him over for signs of another spiral. Scott hoped he didn’t look too terrible; whatever the other man saw, he didn’t comment on.

“Well that looks pretty fine, wouldn’t you say?” he said instead to George, who jumped at being suddenly addressed again and nodded vigorously.

“Very good, sir,” he agreed. Scott shrugged a noncommittal agreement, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this trip – he wasn’t, but not because of the clothes – and retreated back to the changing room to try on the next.

In the end there were eight polos in the original selection, and six of them in the pile Other-Gordon was setting aside with the approved jeans. From the look on George’s face, he hadn’t been expecting quite so many purchases but also wasn’t complaining at all. Scott wondered if sales assistants still got commissions on their sales in this universe.

“That’s a fine collection.” Other-Gordon looked positively gleeful, but Scott supposed that made some sense. Even if it was all a ruse, as far as the world was going to be concerned, he’d got one over on his eldest brother. In a way, he actually had, even if it had been with Other-Scott’s begrudging blessing. “But I’d say there’s still something missing, wouldn’t you, Scott?”

Scott had started to wonder if Other-Gordon was going to try and force the shopping trip to a premature conclusion by skipping the hoodie, but to his relief it seemed as though that was still on the cards. Burying the relief behind a long history of catering to little brother whims, he just rolled his eyes and let his shoulders slump a little.

Other-Gordon beamed.

“What this needs,” he told George with enough glee that Scott almost forgot he’d been dubious about the idea in the first place, “is a hoodie. Wouldn’t you agree?” He wasn’t looking at Scott, but rather a George who suddenly looked entirely too much like a deer in headlights.

“You- you’d like to view our hoodie collection?” he stammered, clearly believing that he’d misheard. “But…” The look he shot Scott spoke volumes, enforcing Other-Gordon’s earlier proclamation that hoodies were workman’s clothes and certainly nothing that someone of the Tracy’s social standing would be seen dead in.

Other-Gordon’s smile turned the slightest bit predatory. Scott suspected that was actually aimed at his poor brother’s reputation than anyone in the room, but it didn’t stop George blanching.

“He did lose a bet.”

“Yes, of course.” Scott really hoped they were going to compensate this poor man for the mental stress he was being put through. “Would you like me to fetch some examples?”

“I was thinking something a little more unique for my brother,” Other-Gordon corrected, and Scott recalled that Other-Scott had insisted on custom made. Personally, he’d have been happy with something off the shelf if it fit and was comfortable, but as far as compromises went, it could have been a lot worse. “I heard this shop offers custom tailoring?”

“We do, but I will have to consult with my manager about hoodies,” George hedged. “If you gentlemen would excuse me…” When neither of them protested, he escaped the room. Scott winced.

“They’ll agree,” Other-Gordon said confidently. “Money talks in places like this.”

“As long as we don’t give the employees a heart attack first,” Scott muttered. “George seems… stressed.”

Other-Gordon sighed. “With any luck, the fella will calm down once his manager’s in the picture. I don’t like it any more than you do, Scott, but for the sake of appearances easing up on the guy isn’t an option.”

Cover story. Right.

“How about you?” the aquanaut asked suddenly. “Are you going to be okay for another fitting?”

“I’m fine,” Scott assured him. It came out sounding almost believable. Almost. A judging ginger eyebrow rose.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule and refuse to admit when you’re anything less than A-One,” Other-Gordon informed him. Scott got the feeling those were Other-Scott traits he was – admittedly correctly – associating with him. “You trust me to know my limits, so it would be a mighty help if you’d show me the same courtesy.”

You do realise we’re on the same side? His words from Thunderbird One’s hangar ran through Scott’s head.

“Talk to me, Scott. You holding up?”

They had known each other barely a handful of hours. Scott was acutely aware that he trusted International Rescue to do what they could to help him, but also that that same trust was not yet cemented between him and the individuals within the organisation. Other-Gordon was the closest he’d got, mostly through exposure but also because the ginger had respected the boundaries once they’d been felt out.

That trust was still a small, fragile thing. Scott could almost see the thread in front of him, barely a hair thick and easily broken. The wrong move would snap it, and then where would he be? Both sides needed that trust to maximise their chances of getting him home.

Not that Scott was going to be blindly handing it out – Other-Alan had shown nothing but distaste for him so far, and Not-Dad brought up too many conflicting thoughts and emotions for trust to be on the cards any time soon – but to Other-Gordon?

“I can handle it,” he promised. “Honestly…” he trailed off, trying to find the words and push past his natural inclination to keep the truth buried where it wouldn’t worry younger brothers, but that word was enough to get Other-Gordon’s back straightening. “Honestly, stopping and having to come back later would be worse.” He’d take panic attacks in changing rooms over going back with the shopping half finished and having to explain the failure, especially to Not-Dad.

More than anyone else, he knew that if he showed weakness in front of Not-Dad, something would break.

“Then it’s a good thing the fellas don’t need us back any time soon,” Other-Gordon said matter-of-factly. A hand rested on his shoulder, the touch light but there. “We can take as many breaks as you need until we’re done.”

Scott felt like he’d just fallen off of a cliff, hoping he had a grapple pack left to catch himself with, only for Other-Gordon to grab his hand and haul him back up. It should be disconcerting that he’d been read so easily, even with the bare bones he’d managed to share, but the overwhelming feeling of relief washed away any lingering unease.

“Thanks,” he managed.

“Thank you,” Other-Gordon replied, a gentle look on his face.

Chapter 10>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #gordon tracy

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dc41896 · 3 years

Text

Inside Jokes

Happy New Year guys🎊☺️!! I hope it’s filled with much happiness and positivity! So this was another idea I was gonna do for Christmas, but I already had other stuff and the holiday had then passed so I figured hey why not do it for New Years🤷🏽‍♀️? Hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluffy feels☺️!

Sounding the bright charm of the doorbell, a smile spreads on your lips hearing the familiar excited barks from Dodger as he scurries to the front door.

“I know bubba, I’m coming. I heard it too,” you hear Chris’ muffled chuckles as his footsteps lightly thud against the hardwood the closer he came. He doesn’t have time to properly greet you before brown and white fur dashes past him circling around your legs before peering up at you with soft brown eyes as his front paws push on your abdomen making you laugh.

“Dodge let her come in the house first bud.”

“It’s okay. I know I haven’t visit you in a while, I promise I’ll do better,” you smile scratching behind his ears as he drops to all fours helping his dad guide you in the warm, faintly pine scented home. Pulling you into his chest, your arms wrap around each other in the most comforting hug you’ve received in a while. His lips against your temple after his low “hi sweetheart,” makes you giddy with stomach doing tiny flips before quickly trying to push those feelings away.

“Y/N!,” Scott shouts.

“Scott!” Pulling away, you meet him halfway for a hug as he spins you around causing an eruption of giggles.

“I didn’t know you were back in town, how are you? I haven’t seen you in...what? A year?!”

“And what are you doing bringing us gifts on your birthday?,” Chris adds taking the respective snowman and reindeer covered gift bags from your hand.

“That’s right, Happy birthday! Have anything special planned?”

“No, I’m just gonna stay in and watch a few movies until I probably fall asleep. And the gifts are late Christmas presents since I couldn’t get them to you sooner.”

“Aww you didn’t have to do that, thank you so much,” Scott smiles hugging you again. “And you hear that Chris? She’s not doing anything tonight.” There’s a brief silence as the two brothers peer at each other as if telepathically speaking some secret language.

You weren’t quite sure what was going on, but from Chris’ pleading yet serious eyes and Scott fluttering his lashes with innocent smile on his face you thought maybe it might be your cue to leave.

“Well um I don’t want to take up too much of your time-,”

“You’re not!,” Chris interrupts, a bit too enthusiastic for his liking from his growing blush. “Um in fact if you want to stay and hang out here, that’s completely fine. We’re having a few friends over later for a last minute New Year’s Eve party, which you’re more than welcome to join.”

Your heart screamed yes, wanting you to kick off your shoes and get comfy on his sectional couch. However, your brain kept picturing you sitting off to yourself for the majority of the night with drink in hand as they laughed and mingled with their childhood friends.

“Thanks, but I uh think I’m gonna just head home.”

“You sure? I know this dud is gonna be there, but I promise it’ll be fun!,” Scott says, soon receiving an arm smack from his brother that makes it hard to hide your laugh.

“Yea, I’m sure. Maybe we can all meet up later sometime and do something?”

“Of course, and if you change your mind just give us a call or come over.”

Giving you a final hug and happy birthday, you squat down saying your goodbyes to Dodger who had yet to leave your side since you walked through the door. Being the gentleman he was, Chris insisted on walking you to your car even though you tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary since it was still light out and that you’d be fine.

“Thanks again for the gifts. That was really sweet.”

“You’re welcome. Sorry if it’s something you already have, I tried to think of things you guys might like.”

“Anything you get, we’ll appreciate,” he smiles. You could tell there was something more he wanted to say as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. And it was as if you could see with your own eyes the conflict in his brain trying to figure out how to say whatever he was attempting.

“Hey, you okay? You kinda seem in your head a bit.”

“Yea, yea I’m fine. Just uh, thinking about how you shouldn’t be alone on your birthday. Not trying to pressure you or anything, but seriously we don’t mind you staying.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” you wave him off dismissively giving him a sure smile. “And if I change my mind, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright, and call if you need anything at all okay?”

“Okay,” you giggle, feeling his arms bring you closer again in one of his famous hugs.

———

“Why didn’t you stay?! It would’ve been better than being alone. Plus you’ve said before how fun they are, so I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed yourself,” your mom states, clearly in the kitchen from the pots and silverware clanking in the back.

“I don’t know, I didn’t want to be the odd one out I guess. The one person majority of people didn’t know and end up by myself.”

“Well being the stranger shouldn’t stop you from going to a party that you’re invited to by your friend. And if those boys are really your friends, I’m sure they would’ve tried to include you in stuff and made sure you were comfortable.”

“Yea that’s true. I also wondered if it was a pity invite too, you know? Like being invited because it accidentally slipped?,” you admit fiddling with the string on your pajama shorts.

“No I don’t think so. Chris himself told you about it when he could’ve just kept quiet. I think you’re overthinking a bit honey.”

“You’re probably right about that too,” you sigh watching the scene currently playing on the screen in front of you.

“And I know you’re upset about not being able to come home like you planned, but don’t let that stop you from having a good time. Live your life, we’ll all still be here the next time you can come.” Although you had a tear rolling down your face, a soft laugh escapes your mouth surprised by her words hitting the nail on the head. Why you’d think your own mother wouldn’t be able to tell how you were feeling even over the phone miles away, you didn’t know.

Just as you set your mouth for your reply, a knock on your door slightly startles you diverting your attention to the door across the room.

“Hey, I’ll call you back. Someone’s at the door.”

“Okay, well be safe and remember what I said! Love you.”

“I will, and love you too.” Hanging up, you peek out the peephole to see Chris switching from one leg to the other as he looks down at his phone waiting for your answer.

“Chris, what are you doing here?”

Dark jeans and white sneakers below his forest green crewneck sweatshirt, a build a bear box comes into view from behind his back to rest on your kitchen counter.

“I too came to give you a present,” he smiles hands showcasing the box.

“T-Thank you. You didn’t need to go out and get me something, especially with everyone being out for New Years.”

“What makes you think I just bought this?,” he smirks.

“Because if you had it earlier, then you would’ve handed it over when I came by.”

“What if I held onto it so I could deliver it myself?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, a grin breaks your expression as your hands begin to roam the box beginning to open it. “Then I’d ask what about your party? The host really isn’t supposed to leave.”

“Well that’s why it’s good to have your brother as your other host so he can watch over everything. And the host can leave if it’s for an important reason.”

“Fair point, but still-,”

“Y/N, open your present please?,” he grins as you hold up your hands in surrender before finally pulling the stuffed brown teddy bear with jeans and a pullover hoodie from the box making you gasp as a soft “aww” leaves your lips. You read the card attached that says “a new friend to be independent together with” instantly causing a rush of memories and you to smile.

It was an inside joke between the two of you ever since your first week of meeting each other. You were his makeup artist while on set of his last project, and noticing that you seemed bored sitting outside the makeup trailer one day, invited you to get lunch with him.

Conversation came surprisingly easy as you walked side by side to a nearby cafe. Not that you expected him to be the snobby, stuck up type to look at everyone on set who wasn’t a fellow actor as less than and undeserving of his time. You’d heard before how nice he was ultimately being loved by those who had the chance to interact with him. As a fellow introvert though, you could tell from your first couple of talks how it took a while for him to warm up to someone.

And from your experience, typically with two introverts together, there could be a bit more silence than talking.

You can’t remember exactly what the both of you laughed about standing near the front of the line, but that was cut short when the older lady behind you complimented on how cute of a couple you were.

“Oh no, we’re not together,” he corrected with a light chuckle, before quickly feeling guilty that you might take offense. “I mean not that I’m not attracted or anything because you are pretty. Beautiful in fact. A-And not that I’ve thought about it or that’s why I invited you because I promise it didn’t cross my mind! Not that it would be a bad thought either! I just..um..”

At this point both you, the lady behind you, the waiting barista, and everyone within earshot of his rambling were watching making up from his neck to his ears tint red.

“...we’re just coworkers getting lunch,” you smile trying to ease any further embarrassment. Or confusion at this point.

“Yea together, but independently. Independently together,” he adds as she nods, a light laugh leaving her lips.

“Words weren’t really your strong suit today huh?,” you giggle making it back to the lot as he shakes his head silently laughing at himself.

“I-I was trying to correct her without potentially offending you.”

“Thank you for thinking about my feelings, but I was fine, you didn’t have to worry. Now if you were like utterly disgusted and started gagging or something-,”

“Noo, no I’d never do that. And if I did, I’d definitely understand if you punched me in the face repeatedly. Honestly probably encourage it.”

Both of your laughters dying down, it’s the first moment of silence you’ve experienced with him today. It’s doesn’t feel awkward at all though, and you may just be strolling along with the summer sun on your skin, but you don’t want to leave.

Little did you know he didn’t want to either.

“Um well I guess I’ll see you later then,” you shyly smile reaching the steps of the makeup trailer with Chris’ hand resting on the railing.

“See you later Y/N.”

“Oh, and be sure to get your words together when you’re in front of the camera. That’s kinda important.”

“I’ll try my best,” he deeply chuckles with hand over his chest. “If you don’t see me tomorrow though you know what happened.”

“Oh man, then who’d I get lunch independently together with?”

“You’re not gonna let me live that down are you?”

“Maybe. Eventually.”

His lips slightly part for his next remark, but the director calling his name steals his attention, yelling about changes to the script. Turning back to you, you both said a quick goodbye before he jogs off.

Not before thanking you for walking ‘independently together’ with him and flashing you his gorgeous smile.

“I know it’s kinda kiddish, but-,”

“No it’s perfect Chris. Thank you.” Arms wrapped around his middle, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as his arms seem to naturally fit around your body. You can’t help but to feel those flips and tingles from earlier, this time though opting to bask a bit in the feeling versus ridding it away.

“You’re welcome.”

Soon you’re both startled from the sound of poppers and party horns coming through your walls from the surrounding apartments as voices shouted “Happy New Year!,” and cheered.

“I didn’t realize it was already midnight. You should uh probably head back to your party,” you speak pulling away to set down your new, smaller friend.

“Yea you’re right,” he states following behind as you unlock your front door seeing the hall littered with confetti and glitter. Nearly stepping over the threshold, he pauses before turning back around to meet your eyes, which were now scanning outside wondering why he stopped.

“What is it?”

“N-Nothing, I just...uh, t-there’s actually another reason why I came by.”

“Um...okay. What’s up?”

Inching closer and closer until you could smell the mint from his gum, his larger hand finds your cheek and thumb grazes along the bone briefly looking down at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m guessing this is the other reason?,” you whisper, nervously tucking part of your bottom lip between your teeth.

“It is. If there’s someone, or you say no that’s fine though. I-I jus-,”

Your lips on his muffle his next couple words as his other hand gently grabs your side pulling you as close as you both could be. His soft lips paired with their equally forceful yet careful movement leave your head dizzy, in the best way, and hands clasping onto his sweatshirt to steady your now wobbly legs. Separating to catch your breath, your swollen lips stay hovering anticipating a repeat.

“There’s no one, and I think I just gave you a definite yes.”

“Looks like no more independent together then,” you both chuckle before your lips resume their previous actions.

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If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found on my masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know 🤓!

#chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 6: Heart Monitor

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

P.S. Scott and Stiles are back to being terrible at keeping secrets, Jackson is en route to creepyville, and Derek is super duper probably dead.

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

“A spiral.” I said slowly, to make sure we were on the same page.

Scott nodded frantically, his fists tightening around the straps of his bookbag. “I-I thought it was Derek, but it wasn’t.”

He’d practically bolted toward me the second I walked into the school this morning. After yanking me away from Allison, who was very confused might I add, he proceeded to tell me about the events of last night.

“Then who was it?” I asked, even though I could've guessed the answer.

He leaned toward me and looked around before whispering harshly. “The alpha. It had to be him. But why didn't he kill me?”

“Wait. He?” I stopped walking. “Do you have any suspects?”

“No. No, I’m just saying...” I quirked an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes with a sigh. “He or she didn't kill me. Which is weird, right?”

“I guess.” I shrugged, continuing down the hall at his side. I honestly had no idea what the alpha’s deal was. It had killed before, almost randomly, and according to Derek it was after Scott. So maybe it was weird that he was still alive, or maybe it wasn't. “You’re apart of it’s pack, right? So maybe it wants to kidnap you, not kill you.”

“That’s reassuring.” He huffed and returned his attention to the hallway in front of us.

Stiles turned a corner a few feet away, his gaze trained straight ahead. Scott’s face lit up in recognition, a relived smile pulling at his lips. “Stiles, dude. You didn’t answer any of my texts. You have to hear...”

His greeting trailed off when Stiles continued walking past us as if we didn't even exist. I winced, watching as Scott turned on his heel to follow him. I had no choice but to join in, because I’m nosy.

“Stiles. Come on!”

He kept his face blank, aside from his lips which twisted into an annoyed frown.

“You can’t ignore me forever.” Scott tried again, his voice growing desperate.

Stiles hadn't spoken to him since the parking lot incident two days ago. He was beyond angry with him for disappearing with Allison for a full day, plus having his phone off. I kind of understood both sides. Scott just wanted a normal day with his girlfriend, on her birthday no less. And Stiles is a spaz who freaks out if his friends can’t be reached in a timely fashion.

Not to mention, his dad had somehow been hit by a car in the middle of the shitstorm at the school, and he was worried about him. There were a lot of dangerous things going on right now, so it honestly wasn't ideal for any of us to be M.I.A.

“Can you at least tell me if your dad’s okay? I mean, it’s just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big.” Scott prodded, only making the situation worse.

Stiles’ nostrils flared as he dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek in frustration.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” His eyes twitched, but he otherwise showed no reaction. “Okay. What if I told you I was trying to figure this whole thing out? And...and that I went to Derek for help.”

My head whipped in his direction. That was news to me. Did he just conveniently leave that part of the story out? He avoided my gaze with a sigh.

“If I was talking to you.” Stiles spoke up suddenly, surprising us both. “I would tell you that you’re an idiot for trusting him. But obviously, I’m not talking to you.”

“I second that.” I added with a raise of my hand.

Derek was just straight up bad news. He may know more about being a werewolf than Scott, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. A few tense beats of silence passed between the three of us. I watched as Stiles had an internal battle with himself. His lips rolled inward and his head tilted to the side, his eyes pinching shut for a brief moment. I knew he was about to crack. He turned to Scott with a jerk, practically causing a traffic jam in the hallway.

“What did he say?” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with himself for giving in.

Scott smiled gratefully. “He said I could learn to shift by tapping into a primal animal rage.”

“Uh, correct me if I’m wrong, but every time you do that you try to kill someone. And that someone’s usually me.” Stiles started talking with his hands like he usually does, a good sign that he was back to normal.

“Wait. What?” I looked at the two of them with wide eyes. How did I know nothing about this? They shared a secretive glance before Scott sighed, his shoulders hunching in defeat.

“I kinda lose it when there’s a full moon. I’ve only been through one before and it wasn’t pretty. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Derek said he won’t help me unless I stay away from Allison.”

My brows furrowed in question. What does she have to do with any of this?

“Because of her family?” Stiles asked, coming to a more logical conclusion than me.

“No,” Scott shook his head, looking troubled. “He said that she's a distraction. She makes me weak.”

“You know, the whole women make you weak thing is a little too spartan warrior for me.” Stiles rolled his eyes with a huff. I couldn't agree more. That was one of the biggest copouts I’d ever heard. “It’s probably just part of the learning process.”

Just then, the warning bell rang through the halls. We all went our separate ways, and I made a mental note to confront them about their habit of keeping secrets the next time I saw them.

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

I walked through the halls, glancing between my phone and the floor in front of me. I was supposed to meet up with Allison and Lydia in the library during our free period to study. I was waiting for them to tell me they were ready. I sent them another text in our group chat and decided to just head in that direction without them. They could catch up.

I narrowly missed running into someone, but looked up just in time to stop before faceplanting into their broad chest. It was Jackson, looking sick as ever. His green eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in days, and he was covered in a thin layer of sweat. I took a tentative step back to put some distance between us.

After a few long moments of him awkwardly staring at me, I cleared my throat. “Hey Jackson. You have a free period?”

“No,” He chuckled, although it didn't reach his eyes. “I just don't like sitting through chem.”

“Understandable.” I sent him a small smile and, when he didn't respond, sidestepped him to continue on my way.

The few other people in the hall had wandered off by now, leaving us alone. He moved in front of me, blocking my way, and once again only stared. There was something weird swirling in his eyes. I couldn't quite place it. It was like he wasn't completely himself. Maybe he had a fever, sometimes that can cause mood changes.

“Did you...need something?” I asked slowly, beginning to get a little creeped out.

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to talk.” I glanced away from him, the intensity of his gaze making me uncomfortable. “I realized that I've been a jerk to you. And Scott, especially. I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise, and he huffed out a laugh. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay...” I really didn't know what to say. He had been a huge jerk since the day I met him. But that was just Jackson. That’s how he was. Why he had the sudden urge to apologize to me, I had no idea.

“Do you know what it’s like to be the best player on the team? To be the star, to have every single person at the game chanting your name? And then some kid just comes along, and everyone starts looking at him instead of you. Do you know what that feels like?”

I just blinked for a long moment, surprised by his sudden outburst. It was obvious that he was talking about Scott. He’d recently been named co-captain along with Jackson, effectively knocking him down a peg. The distaste he had for Scott wasn't subtle, but he’d never seemed remorseful about it until now.

“No, I don't.” I admitted, not sure what else to say.

“Well, it feels like something's been stolen from you. And then you start to feel like you’d do anything, anything in the world...” His eyes slowly trailed over my face as he spoke, and I shifted away a few inches. He was seriously being weird. “To get it back.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying there’s no I in team?” I quipped, trying to lighten the mood. I took a miniscule step away from him, hoping he wouldn't notice. He’d gotten way too close to me during that monologue.

“But there is a me.” He barked, and my shoulders immediately stiffened. Then, he laughed. But it didn't exactly sound genuine. “That was a joke.”

I forced a chuckle, just wanting this weird conversation to be over.

“Gosh,” One of his hands came up to rub at the back of his neck. “You must really hate me.”

“I don’t.” I reassured slowly. It was the truth. I may not particularly like the guy, but he was dating one of my best friends. He was mostly harmless and I could put up with him when I had to.

“You sure? Because I’m not a bad guy.” His eyes danced around my face as he spoke, and he’d somehow gotten way too close again. “I mean, yeah. I make stupid mistakes. A lot. But I’m not bad.”

My lips twitched into what I hoped looked more like a smile than a grimace. I glanced down at my phone, praying that one of the girls would text me so I had an excuse to walk away.

“I really like you.” He said suddenly, and my eyes snapped back up to his. My breath caught in my throat. He likes me? He cannot like me. He’s dating Lydia. And I have...okay, no. I don't have anyone. But he still can’t like me. That is so many types of wrong. “And Scott. I really like you both. And I want you guys to like me.”

I relaxed slightly, but still felt majorly weirded out by this whole thing. I also noticed that he hadn't mentioned Stiles at all and wondered if he had ever even acknowledged his existence. I guess he was more aware of Scott because he saw him as competition, and he was dating his girlfriend’s best friend...but still.

“I want to get to know you guys better.” I just nodded, hoping he was done talking. I’d never wanted to crawl out of my skin more than I did right now.

I felt my phone vibrate with a notification and silently thanked the heavens. I lifted it up and tried to smile regretfully as I stepped around him. “This has been...nice. But I gotta go. I’ll, uh, see you later.”

I walked away briskly, feeling his eyes watch me the whole way. Once I turned the corner, I felt a shudder move through me. I was so put off by that whole conversation. Had he always been that weird? I remembered him being a charismatic asshole, not whatever that was. I tried my best to forget about it as I walked into the library and immediately found Allison and Lydia at a table.

I sat down quickly, running a hand through my hair to collect myself.

“Where have you been?” Lydia asked, and I paled. She had this glint in her eyes that said she somehow knew I had just been talking to her boyfriend.

“Uh...” I wracked my brain for a believable lie. “Just had to stop at my locker.”

“Whatever. Guys, listen.” Allison’s full attention was on a small book in her hands. “The Beast of Gévaudan was a quadruped wolf-like monster prowling the south of France in the years 1764 to 1767. La Bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the King, Louis XV, sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.”

“Boring.” Lydia sang, but Allison continued unfazed.

“Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan.” Her eyes lit up in excitement as she read.

“Hmm,” Lydia hummed, pretending to think. “Still boring.”

“Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a predator—”

“Slipping into a coma bored.”

“While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shapeshift into a man and a monster.” I stiffened at that, my breath catching in my throat. That sounded familiar. What were they even talking about?

“Does any of this have anything to do with your family?” Lydia pressed impatiently.

Her family?

Oh.

Oh no.

“This. It is believed that La Bête was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter, who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature. His name was Argent.” She looked up with a triumphant smile, and I cleared my throat while trying not to give anything away.

Did she already know, and this was her way of telling us? Or was she just now starting to put the pieces together?

“So your family killed a big wolf...” Lydia drawled, clearly not understanding what she was trying to say.

“Not just a big wolf.” Allison shook her head and turned the book around so that we could see inside. “Take a look at this picture. What does it look like to you?”

My heart nearly stopped beating in my chest. It was a werewolf, clear as day. And it looked just like the alpha. Same glowing red eyes. Same terrifying teeth and claws. Same black fur atop bulging muscles. Lydia’s face dropped at the sight, her lips parting and eyes going wide. I knew she was remembering what she saw outside the video store. But how much had Allison seen?

“Guys.” She huffed, her brows furrowing in concern. “Guys?”

“It looks...” Lydia trailed off before seeming to collect herself. “Like a big wolf. I’ll see you guys later.”

She stood abruptly, and we both watched her until she turned out of sight. My eyes found Allison again and she opened her mouth to say something right when the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. She began collecting her things with a frown, and I shook my head.

I had more questions now than ever, but I couldn't just outright ask her. If she didn't already know, I’d be exposing not only her family’s secret, but Scott’s. She mumbled a quick goodbye and went on her way. I sighed and rubbed a hand down my face in frustration. I hate secrets. So much.

On my way out of the library, I stopped at a nearby table where Scott and Stiles had been eavesdropping the entire time, using books as covers.

“You two aren't subtle.” I stuck around long enough to see their sheepish expressions before walking out the doors.

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

I pressed my head into my pillow with a sigh, trying to get comfortable. My luck hadn't changed when it came to sleeping. Aside from the one night that Stiles stayed over—which I have decided to never speak of—I’ve been plagued by bad dreams and visions. I’d been laying here for what must’ve been hours now, and I was no closer to sleep.

There were so many things weighing on me, and I had a feeling they’d all be coming to a head soon. Like the alpha. What did it even want and why was it killing people? And Allison. I was feeling more and more guilty everyday for not telling her everything I know. Then there was Scott and Stiles, who were still keeping things from me, apparently. And Jackson. He was just...off.

With a frustrated huff I turned over onto my other side, but froze when I felt hard ground beneath me. My bed wasn't hard. My eyes popped open and I bolted upright instantly. I wasn't in my bed anymore. My fingers flexed in the soft grass around me as I tried to get my bearings.

My heart pumped harshly in my chest while my eyes scanned my surroundings. I was sitting in front of the high school, in the grass. My brows furrowed and I shook my head. I had to be dreaming or something. I was literally just in my bed a few seconds ago.

I froze as the sound of growling echoed through the building behind me. It was so loud that the doors and windows were actually shaking. It went on for several seconds, then stopped. I huffed out a breath, more confused than ever. I squinted my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness of the night. I caught sight of Stiles’ jeep, along with another car, across the parking lot.

Great. What had they gotten themselves into this time? What had I gotten myself into?

“I’m gonna kill both of you!” I nearly jumped out of my skin as a sudden voice boomed from the dark.

I turned to see Scott and Stiles walking casually out of the school, as if it were normal to be here after hours. Derek emerged from behind one of the cars, putting a face to the angry yelling.

“What the hell was that? What, are you trying to attract the entire state to the school?”

“Sorry.” Scott shrugged, not sounding the least bit genuine. “I didn't know it would be that loud.”

Okay, so the growl had come from him. That was honestly impressive.

“Yeah, it was loud. And it was awesome!” Stiles sang, clearly excited by the whole thing.

“Shut up.” Derek hissed before shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Don't be such a sour wolf.” Stiles chuckled and threw a hand up dismissively.

They were talking so casually, as if they were friends...

The last time I saw Stiles and Derek interact, he was terrified of him. What changed?

“Hey, what did you do with him?” Scott suddenly asked, his voice becoming serious.

All three of them looked at Derek’s car, inspecting the back door which was sitting wide open. What, did they kidnap someone or something? He whirled back around to face the guys quickly. “I didn't do anything.”

Then, without warning, a spine-chilling growl sounded from behind Derek. I just barely had enough time to see a pair of glowing red eyes before he was lifted into the air. A fountain of blood spilled from his mouth and I covered my own with a harsh gasp. It was hard to see in the low lighting, but I’d bet all my allowance money that the alpha was the cause.

Scott and Stiles instantly bolted from the scene, running at full speed toward the school. I was still frozen in place, fear paralyzing me. Just before ripping the doors open, Stiles’ head jerked in my direction as he noticed me sitting there.

“Y/N?” He was beside me in the blink of an eye, wrapping a hand around my bicep. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I...I don't...” I stammered, watching as the alpha threw Derek against a wall and stalked toward us slowly.

Stiles dragged me to my feet painfully fast, and I had no choice but to run with him as he sprinted to the school. We ran through the door that Scott was holding open for us, Stiles releasing me so he could help hold one of them closed.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He yelled at me, his chest rising and falling with each quick pant he let out.

Both his and Scott’s backs were pressed against the metal doors, keeping them closed with their weight. It was a good idea in theory, although it would never hold up if the alpha decided it wanted to come in. They looked at me expectantly and I realized I hadn't responded yet.

“I could ask you the same thing.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold now that some of the adrenaline was wearing off. I really needed to start sleeping in more than a t-shirt and shorts, seeing as this was becoming a habit of mine.

“No, not gonna work this time.” Stiles shook his head angrily. “This is so not okay. You can’t be here.”

“Seriously, Y/N. What, did you follow us?” Scott added, his tone sharp.

Okay, they needed to chill the fuck out. It wasn't like I meant to crash their weird after hours meeting with Derek.

“By the looks of it, you shouldn't be either.” I huffed, my annoyance at an all time high at continuously being kept in the dark. “Since when are you guys talking to Derek? And coming here at night? What are you even doing?”

“Not important.” Stiles glared at me before turning to peer out one of the windows in the door.

“Very important!” I raised my voice as anger shot through me at his dismissal. “You two better start telling me everything you’ve been hiding. Right now. Or, I swear, I’ll—”

“This is not the time!” Scott interrupted, suddenly panicking. I’d nearly forgotten that we were hiding from the alpha. “We need to lock the doors.”

“Do I look like I have a key?” Stiles barked, voice rising with his own anxiety.

All I could do was watch as they started bickering.

“Grab something!”

“What?”

“Anything!”

Stiles suddenly stopped fidgeting and lifted his head to look out the window again. Scott stood from his hunched position and did the same, before whipping his attention back toward our spaz of a friend.

“No.” He breathed, seemingly understanding what Stiles wanted to do.

“Yes.” He shoved a flashlight that I hadn't even realized he was holding into Scott’s chest and popped open one of the doors. My eyes widened as I realized what he was going to do.

“No! Stiles, don't!” Scott whisper-shouted, but Stiles didn't even hesitate as he squeezed out the door.

I instantly ran to the place he had just been standing in so I could look out the window. My gaze landed on a pair of plyers laying on the ground.

“Is he crazy?” I whispered, my heart hammering painfully in my chest. Those were so not worth his life.

Scott and I watched with baited breath as he jogged down the concrete steps. He had barely touched the plyers when the alpha suddenly emerged from behind the Jeep. Scott instantly started pounding on the doors and calling Stiles’ name to get his attention. He looked at us, kneeling on one knee, and swallowed slowly.

He turned back around, and must’ve seen the alpha barreling toward him, because a second later he was back inside. We slammed the doors shut, and Stiles jammed the plyers between the handles. A moment of tense silence passed, the only sound our ragged breathing.

We all shared a wide-eyed look, knowing we were in for a long night.

Episode 5, Part Two Episode 7, Part One

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singtotheskiies · 4 years

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Hi can I make a request? Scott Lang x team cap!reader where they get to know each other in the car ride during Civil War and during the fight 🤣 but like when they open the door like in the movie and he is like asleep and wakes up, the reader is like drooling on him and its funny? And after the home arrest at the end they go and visit him secretly because they escaped with the others. Sorry for my English ❤

request: Hi can I make a request? Scott Lang x team cap!reader where they get to know each other in the car ride during Civil War and during the fight 🤣 but like when they open the door like in the movie and he is like asleep and wakes up, the reader is like drooling on him and its funny? And after the home arrest at the end they go and visit him secretly because they escaped with the others. Sorry for my English ❤

summary: the civil war between the avengers may have bred a lot of tension and strife, but it brought you one good thing—scott lang.

words: 2432

warnings: none, it’s just fluff:))

a/n: scott is a literal angel bb; i got so into writing this imagine🥺🥺i hope you enjoy!!!!

✖️✖️✖️

You sit in the back of the white van, looking straight ahead at the back of Wanda’s head in front of you. Clint is driving, shoulders set stiffly, his knuckles white around the wheel. If you had to pick one word to describe the mood of the car, you would have to go with an obvious “silent.” Everyone seems grim—everyone except for Scott, who’s sitting next to you—so close, in fact, that you could feel him—

“Are you—vibrating?” you ask in disbelief, looking at him sideways.

“I—uh—you just talked to me?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh my god, wow, I definitely haven’t been waiting like years for this to happen, I mean look at you, you’re just—“

You’re full-on staring at him now, brow furrowed in confusion and amusement.

“Thanks—I think?”

“God, I just—I’m such a huge fan of yours. My daughter Cassie loves what you do, she can’t get enough of you on the news. ‘Record it, Daddy!’ she always says when you’re on, and I say, ‘Okay, peanut!’ because I want to watch you as much as she does, and—oh, lord, I’m making such a fool of myself, I’m sorry—“

“Hey, it’s okay! Just—take a breather,” you say, chuckling. “That’s—really flattering, actually. Very nice of you.”

“Oh, wow,” Scott says, and you can actually see him blush at your words. “Um, thanks—that means a lot.”

“Hey, I’ve heard of what you’ve done, too. Pretty amazing stuff,” you say, and his face practically glows.

“Aw, it’s nothing—I mean, compared to you, I’m just insignificant. Like an ant—okay, that was horrible,” he trails off. Once he sees you laughing at his unintended joke, he visibly relaxes and smiles along with you.

“You know, Scott,” you say, “I think the fact you were asked here is pretty telling of your abilities. They wouldn’t have wanted you to come if they didn’t think you were capable.” He looks down shyly, murmuring a thanks, and you grin at him. You’re beginning to get an idea of this man—adorable, dorky, determined with a heart of gold. He’s not too hard on the eyes, either.

“Hey, Scott, tell me some more about your daughter,” you say, and the two of you strike up a conversation.

At some point, Clint yells at the two of you to pipe down, muttering something about not being able to think over your laughter. Wanda just shoots you a smug look, raising her eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes at her, muttering “grumpy ol’ Clint” before turning back to Scott and talking at a reduced volume.

✖️✖️✖️

After some time, Scott notices you stifle a series of yawns. Your eyes start to droop, and he finds your slow blinks stupidly endearing. “Sleepy?” he asks softly.

You giggle, and he swears his heart bursts from how cute it is. “Yeah, a little. The car’s moving really smoothly and y—“ You trail off.

“What?”

“It’s nothing, I just—I guess your voice is pretty soothing, too,” you say, and Scott clears his throat subconsciously.

“Uh, thanks! I mean, I think that’s what I should say—sorry, it’s—that’s really nice of you, thanks,” he stutters out, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and pride. You smile at him before yawning again, covering your wide-open mouth with a hand he wishes he could hold. He doesn’t think he could ever work up the courage to do that, but your compliment makes him feel a little powerful. Adrenaline rushing through him, he opens his mouth to make an offer.

“Um, if you’re—y’know—tired, you could always, like, rest your head on my shoulder if you wanted? Of course, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but it might be more comfortable than the window. Or maybe not. But, uh, offer still sta—“ His rambling is cut off by your (very soft and nice-smelling) head softly landing on the offered shoulder. He stiffens at first, unsure of how to react, but eventually leans his head onto yours, feeling your hair brush against his cheek. He fully intends to stay awake to savor every single second of your presence, but your steady breathing, soft body, and comforting smell all but force him to drift softly into sleep.

✖️✖️✖️

The sound of voices outside the van rouses you, and you start when you remember you had fallen asleep on Scott shoulder. God, how embarrassing, you think, sitting up straight. To make matters worse, there’s a dark patch on Scott’s shoulder that makes your heart drop. You couldn’t possibly have—drooled on his shoulder, could you? Hopefully he won’t notice. Looking up, you realize that the two of you are alone in the van. He’s still asleep, leaning back onto the headrest. You’re about to gently shake him awake when the van door slams open, blinding your still-sleepy eyes with daylight.

Scott jumps, also startling awake. “What time zone is this?” he asks, and you laugh before hopping out of the van and realizing that standing in front of you is the rest of your team. You nod and wave at Steve, Sam, and Bucky—you had fought with them a few times before.

Scott rushes by you, exclaiming “Captain America!” and shaking the mentioned hero’s hand vigorously. His eyes are full of adoration as he continues, “It’s an honor! I’m shaking your hand too long—“ He steps back, an awkwardly adorable smile on his face as he clumsily introduces himself to everyone else. After introductions, it‘s time to get suited up, and the two of you walk side by side.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry for—y’know,” you say, motioning to his still-damp shoulder.

“No, it’s okay—I don’t mind. My mom always used to say that drooling meant you were sleeping really well. So I’m glad you were comfortable,” he says, laughing.

“I most certainly was,” you answer, laughing with him.

“You were so calm meeting them, I mean, wow, that’s impressive! I know you’ve fought with them before, but I would still be losing my mind if I was anywhere near Cap,” he continues.

“They’re just like the rest of us,” you say. “Powerful, yes, but also imperfect people who need help. I’m just here to provide that help.”

“Wow,” Scott says, staring at you with doe eyes. “That’s something else.”

You just smile affectionately at him.

✖️✖️✖️

Scott is speechless for a full minute when he sees you in your fighting gear. Standing stock-still in shock, he manages out a “You—look—wow—even better in person,” and you grin.

“Not too bad yourself, Lang. It suits you,” you say, before chuckling. “Now it’s my turn to make a bad pun.”

Scott manages to quirk one side of his mouth up before Cap’s voice breaks him out of his daze—time to fight.

Punching and ducking and flipping, you manage to land quite a few hits for your team. You’re getting good feedback over the comms, and you continue to fight, maneuvering around the opposing Avengers fluidly. As focused as you are on fighting, you can’t help but notice how innovative and successful Scott’s tactics are. Plus, his commentary makes you chuckle more times than you’d care to admit. One time, he’d even used your shoulder for a running jump, and feeling his tiny feet as they pounded across you was definitely an interesting experience.

There comes a point in the fight where your team needs a little momentum, and Scott offers his help without hesitating.

“I got something kind of big, but I can’t hold it for long. On my signal, run like hell. If I tear myself in half—don’t come back for me,” he says.

“He’s gonna tear himself in half?” Bucky asks.

“You’re sure about this, Scott?” Steve adds.

“Scott, that doesn’t seem reasonable,” you say, trying to conceal some of the overpowering worry in your voice. “You could really get hurt.”

From your hiding place, you can see Scott look right in your direction. “I do it all the time,” he says. “Well, once—in a lab. Then I passed out.” You shake your head at him: this doesn’t sound at all good.

“Scott!” you cry, but he’s already running, repeating “I’m the boss, I’m the boss,” in an apparent attempt to psych himself up. He jumps, landing on Rhodey’s back. In a split second, he’s the size of a building, towering over the airfield.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, staring up at him. Your attention is soon captured by Steve’s hand on your arm.

“We gotta get out of here!” He yells over the noise of the fight.

“We can’t leave Scott!” you scream back, but Steve is already dragging you toward the exit. “Hey, are you hearing me?”

“He’ll be fine!” Steve says, gripping your arm tighter. “He’s smart; he’ll figure it out!” You hear the shot of Tony’s machine heading for the two of you and duck under a car, using the opportunity to pull free of Steve’s hand. Ignoring his calls after you, you break into a run, heading back to where Scott is being tangled up by the spider-kid.

“Scott, c’mon!” you shout through the comm. “Everyone’s safe except for the two of us!”

“Y’know, I’d really like to, but this kid’s got me all tangled up,” Scott yells back. “This stuff is really sti—woah!” His giant form begins to topple, and you run instinctively, jumping and landing a hard hit on the teen—Peter, you thought.

“Sorry, kid,” you say. No hard feelings.” You turn your focus to Scott, who’s about to hit the ground. You can only pray he’s able to size down before he wrecks the whole place—and, very possibly, himself.

At the last possible moment, he shrinks to his normal height, hitting the ground with a thud that makes you wince. Without even thinking, you run to him and kneel down.

“Does anyone have any orange slices?” he quips, and in your utter relief, you wrap him in a tight hug. You notice that even after having fought, he smelled really, really good.

“Ow,” he muttered, and you pulled away.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I totally forgot—“ you stammered. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, no, it’s all good,” he said, falling back onto the ground. “It—felt really nice. I mean, yeah, you were pressing against some scrapes and all, but you, uh, well—it was—very nice.”

You sigh in relief before remembering that the two of you were very much in the middle of a battle zone. “We gotta get out of here,” you say. “Are you good to stand?”

“Probably,” Scott says, wincing. “Although I might need some help.”

“Get up here,” you say, standing and reaching a hand out to him. He manages to get upright, but limps a bit and seems generally stiff. You offer an arm to support him as the two of you run, definitely not paying attention to the defined muscles stretching under your hand. The two of you manage to make it to the quinjet, sprinting inside to safety as you dodge blasts from Tony and Rhodey’s suits.

✖️✖️✖️

An hour later, you’re sitting in the quinjet, dabbing some hydrogen peroxide on a cut on Scott’s cheek. You frown as you reach a particularly stubborn spot, shifting so that you draw closer to him, legs further intertwining with his. As you move the cotton gently towards his hairline, your eyes are drawn to his. You’re surprised to find that he’s gazing at you, expression soft and half-lidded in admiration. When he notices you look back, he gives you a shy smile, eyes crinkling up adorably.

“Thanks for helping me back there,” he whispers.

“You’re more than welcome. I couldn’t just leave you there. I was worried.”

“Wow, you—really? About lil ol’ me?”

You hum in affirmation, feeling your heart soar strangely in your throat as you take in the man in front of you. Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to his uninjured cheek and get the pleasure of seeing a rosy blush spread all the way down his neck. You reposition yourself so that you’re sitting next to him, placing your head on his shoulder a second time.

And when his hand finds yours, hesitant, searching, you can’t bring yourself to care about anything else.

✖️✖️✖️

You knock on the door, readjusting your dark glasses and ballcap as you wait for Scott to answer. Even though what you’re doing is probably illegal, you know how Scott values connection despite his awkwardness. You’ve taken the liberty of visiting him, bringing him snacks and little gifts and games you’d think he’d enjoy—and, hopefully, best of all—yourself.

You hear his footsteps nearing the door, crashing into something on the way followed by a subdued curse of pain. He’s still grimacing when your eyes meet his, but the expression quickly morphs into one of disbelief.

“W—what are you doing here!” he exclaims, looking equally floored and excited at your presence.

“Thought you might be a little lonely, so I thought I’d help,” you say, lifting up the bag of gifts and food.

“Well—wow—uh—please, come in.”

As you step inside, Scott whirls around the room, adjusting small objects and not-so-small messes as he does do. “Gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know anyone was coming. Especially you! I mean, I would have, y’know, actually cleaned up if I’d known—“ He looks at you sheepishly, but you just smile.

“I think it’s perfect, Scott. Now what say we have a look at what I broughtcha, huh?”

He rummages through the bag with the eagerness of a child, and you watch him affectionately exclaim at each new thing he finds. When he reaches the last object, he looks up at you in complete awe.

“Thank you! I—uh—I don’t know what to say,” he says.

“Hey, it’s my pleasure,” you say, beaming at him.

“Um—do you, uh, have anywhere else to go today?” Scott asks, not meeting your eyes.

“Hmm—not that I can think of,” you reply, grinning.

“Would you like to—well, y’know—hang out some? We can try to make a dent in all this food,” he says, voice adorably unsure and excited all at once.

“I’d love that,” you say.

Later that night, he somehow works up the courage to kiss you on the couch while you watch a movie. It’s soft, reverent almost, and he places his forehead on yours afterwards, eyes closed in bliss, awestruck breath coming in the form of a barely-there giggle.

“You’re amazing,” he says, and you assure him you feel the same with another series of short, soft kisses.

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