#a man can have a beer every once in a while without being labeled as an alcoholic

[mariolandavid]

Stop 2 : Penang! I didn't know much to anything about this island off the coast of Malaysia before entering the country. A bit of cursory Wikipedia research labelled this part of town as The Silicon Valley of the East, but simultaneously a backpackers paradise of unspoilt old town and charm filled cheap cafes. Like if Starbucks moved in but was best pals with your local neighbourhood cake shops instead of mercilessly grinding them to dust. I was excited for this; sounded like a vibe.

Arriving we've been greeted much more by the latter old town sort of thing, given we are staying in that part of town. This is the only kinda place where i've seen the "people on bikes" graffiti genre veer as far one way as Bansky and as far the other way as "just put mr Bean on the bike and more people will stay at the hotel". It's a beautiful place. Slow. Feels almost too quiet right now but this is a world only just post COVID. There's some way to go before what's 'normal' is back I guess. Places like this got hit bad by having to close their business for 3 years. It shows, there's a lot of shut up places. Man, it's not even just Covid, you can see the effects of the 2004 Tsunami out by the beaches. It's dumb to expect recovery from this stuff quickly and I'm glad they're open up again and the money comes back to rebuild. I'm kinda grateful to be here at all.

One thing I am not grateful for. Durian. I once left a bag of potatoes in a cupboard over a kettle for close to a year in a student flat. Over time the steam liquidised the potatoes as they gradually putrefied naturally. The smell at the end of it was close to something between death and a deep wet mould. Durian is the only thing close to that smell, and it is everywhere. It's actually banned in many public places yet appears so delicious inside that despite these things being on every street corner, & this making you appreciate how bad the whole world must smell in the Walking Dead, everyone love the taste too much to choose not to have corpse stench lightly permeate the air at all times. Good for them. I admire that mental strength. I hate durians.

We did domestic duties early on arrival. Getting the washing done, scouting around and sitting down at Tek Sen for some really good Chinese food. The adaptation from Singapore dollars to Malaysian Ringitt has taken some brain adjustments that's hard to demonstrate without reconverting everything into pounds and realising a beer now costs £1.80, not £7. A meal £2.82, not £20+. The budget might be ok after all. It's taken a lot of work and heart rending "oh god, we need a cheap day tomorrow, this is going to tip is past our average" before realising that a 90 ringitt meal is £16 and no, it's fine, you probably spend that on an aperol Spritz on a bad day back home. Chill.

Day 2 was eventful. We took the bus out to the national park via a breakfast stop off at the Toh Soon cafe. Toh Soon was a lovely little spot, but with a hell of a queue early in the morning. I felt a pang of home-sickness in that queue when the Malaysian man in front of us shouted "FUCKS SAKE" all of a sudden, apropos of nothing. It's a curiously English phrase when I think about it. I don't think i've ever heard it in another accent before.

We got a portion each of Nasi Lemak and Kaya Toast on a couple of different breads, washing everything down with the customary condensed milk laden coffee that I still can't shake the feeling is going to give me diabetes by the end of this trip. All excellent, still not a bad meal here. Because South East Asia is possibly situated next to some great cosmic steam vent, I immediately needed more fluids before the hour long bus ride so we dropped into 7/11. The door played what, on first listen might sound to the corporate morons who decreed this inflicted punishment on the poor staff who have to listen to this song everyday, to be a 'cheerful welcoming melody'. I heard this cheerful welcoming melody 6 times while in the shop buying one drink for something like 5 minutes. Some quick sums; and the poor man working behind the counter is probably there for a minimum of 8 hours a day. He must have heard that welcome jingle a minimum of 576 times in a day. If he works all week, even if it's a 5 day week, he will hear that jingle 2880 times. The suicide rate is remarkably low when considering this.

We hurtled onwards to Penang park after this interlude at 800 mph on the public bus. Seeing corners only as challenges to travel faster. When arriving, we geared up for a big hike (1 hour 15!!) to Turtle Beach, or Pentai Kerachut. We booked a return boat trip, because we're all allowed our little luxuries (and they take you to see the monkeys, come on). Walking through the jungle, you're hit by a wall of humidity and ants. You experience that true sweat that is only reserved for humid climes. The kind where things like your lip and the top of your arms even start sweating when you forgot they could. It's a lovely hike all things considered though, not too strenuous and some gorgeous beach and jungle scenery before you reach the meromictic lake where freshwater meets salt and the two are too different in density to mix. The colours are gorgeous and if you're lucky you'll see them form whirlpools twirling, ever twirling towards freedom.

We got out past the lake onto the beach and played our new favourite beach game "why can't I swim here", is it something that can kill me? Raw sewage? Perhaps lethal waves or a small undersea cliff? Well today it was multiple of these, so we stayed out of the water and continued on to the turtle sanctuary, seeing and reading about the egg laying cycles of the giant turtles on these beaches who need utter quiet, calm and peace, without any bright light to lay their eggs, or they'll simply turn back around and return to the see if they're disturbed. If you lived 100+ years, you'd think time was on your side too.

One of the things I have noticed dating a Spaniard, is that, there's a hell of a lot of Spaniards. I have found them as far aflung as the Premier Inn near Birmingham International, Westminster, local bakers in small english towns, and now here, on a boat in the middle of Malaysia, a group of 5 Catalonians became immediate best friends with Mariola because this is what Spaniards do. They were great company on the way to Monkey beach. Much friendlier than the second boat where I was nearly turfed off by a lady who insisted she had booked the entire boat privately for her family. Ah well. If Brits can do anything well, it's obstinately stand your ground when a small piece of official paper tells you you're in the right. So we stayed on that damn boat.

We had however spent all of our bus money on crisps on Monkey beach. This was a mistake & one I do not encourage. We needed to walk 5km to various hotels imploring people to try and call us cabs and furiously refreshing Grab. After multiple tries, an argument with 2 bus drivers eating dinner and a short rest in a 5 star hotel car park, we were saved by the lovely valet staff of the hotel Ansanga who managed to find us a cab home. This was 10x more expensive than the bus. Please learn from our mistakes and resist those island crisps. Keep some cash handy at all times!

We rounded off the day once we got back and showered with a late dinner at Tem Xim (Penang surprisingly has pretty limited food options past 9pm.. the local population prefers rising early and eating earlier.. look to eat between 6-8pm for the best options!)

The woman who owns Tem Xim, a thai charcoal bbq joint, is likely on some sort of wall somewhere alongside Mother Theresa, Marie Curie & Florence Nightingale. The woman's an artist at hospitality. She saw two floundering hangry westerners staring at chili sauce in beffudlement as to whether it would blow our face off or not and took pity. She was particularly informative and nice in helping us around the menu and it's one of the better dining experiences I think we'll have all trip not just for the quality of food, but also how genuinely kind everyone was. You can tell she does this a lot by the fact she's racked up 300+ 5* Google reviews, most of which mention her explicitly. Good on ya love, you've got one more from me. Hit up Tem Xim anyone reading this and visiting Georgetown.

Our last full day took us from our original plans to go to Penang Hill onto the Kek Lok Si temple instead because, oh boy, when it rains here, it rains. We had a pretty fantastic trip around all things considered and it's a stunning temple, only recently built in the 19th century, but built to impress with grand enormous 70ft tall statues, 7 story pagodas and seals of approval from Beijing about its status amongst Chinese temples. It's well worth a visit and if you want to you could combined it with a trip to Penang Hill to get the views quite easily for a jam packed day. We then did the customary 'eat absolutely everything' food tour, hitting up all the local favourites of Wanton Mee, Char Kaoy Teow, Apom, Lok Lok and Cendol because we are those people, and try and keep me away from weird novelty food. I will eat you.

It's been hard to get away from a fact that Penang doesn't feel quite recovered yet. There's people here, but it feels a bit stunted. Like the energy is yet to return fullly as the place isn't quite full. It's wonderful for a bit of pece and the lack of crowds is something we should be happy about but Georgetown is definitely somewhere I could feel like you could appear, without a purpose, without a clear sense of anything, and have a wicked time simply being. Come for 2 weeks, forget about everything, eat like a king for £3 and forget life happens outside this island. It's back to city life in Kuala Lumpur after this, but i've liked this sleepy little town and recommend it to anyone.

Signing off - DW

[chocolatecakecas]

The Fabric of Your Life

@spnprideweek day 1: coming out/flags

warnings: internalized biphobia, implied past physical abuse, alcohol mention

The first time Dean watched Star Wars, he was ten and his dad dumped him and Sammy at some crappy motel with a promise that he'd return soon. Dad hadn't bothered to register either of them in the local school, since it was supposed to be a "milkrun", so by day four they were both climbing the walls. And Dean was sick of it, so he took the money he had left, after buying a box of cereal and a three pack of mac and cheese at the gas station, and dragged Sammy to the video store he saw when they drove into town. He rented, Star Wars: A New Hope because he remembered some kid at their last school wouldn't shut up about it, and wow was that kid right. Dean loved everything about it, especially Han Solo, with his fast ship, and his blaster and his cool hair and, smooth talking. Every time he was on screen, Dean got this weird funny, excited feeling in his tummy, and he assumed it was because he wanted to be just like him when he grew up.

(read the rest under the cut or read on ao3)

It was the same feeling he'd get later, whenever he caught an old western at the movies and Clint Eastwood or John Wayne would saunter across the screen, but he tried not to think about it too hard.

When Dean was fifteen they were stuck in some small town in Nebraska for four months. The town was shit, but Dean had luckily made friends with this guy named Jake Preston who was two years older than him. They were practically inseparable, sneaking into movies, late night joyrides in Jake's crappy pick up, swiping beers from Mr. Preston to drink under the bleachers. And sometimes when Jake would do a successful donut with his truck, or con their way out of trouble, or wink at Dean before he snuck them out of school early, he'd get that same funny feeling in his stomach. But Dean would just chalk it up to admiring the guy for being so smooth and getting away with anything. Of course until the night they were drunk on the bleachers and Jake grabbed Dean by the shirt, smashing their lips together. And after the momentary shock, Dean found himself pulling Jake closer for more. But then Jake angrily shoved him away, as if it was Dean's fault and left without a word, leaving him alone under the bleachers, terrified about what he had just done and wondering if Jake would tell anyone at school. But it didn't matter because they quickly left town the next day, his Dad saying he finished up the hunt, so for years, Dean would just shove that memory off as a drunken accident.

When Dean was twenty, he kissed Lee Webb for the first time. They had snuck off while their Dads wrapped up the hunt, swiping a few of John's beers before heading to their motel room. They acted like assholes, loudly recalling the antics they had got up to on the hunt. And Dean found himself unable to look away from Lee's smile, his eye, his arms, laughing loudly at his jokes and felt that funny feeling in his stomach whenever Lee would laugh. And the next thing Dean knew, he was kissing him like he'd done with girls hundreds of times, but hadn't with another boy sinc-not in years. But unlike with girls, Dean was quickly pulling away horrified at his own actions. But then Lee was pulling him back in, deepening the kiss as he struggled to get Dean's flannel unbuttoned. And just as Dean was starting to realize that Lee wasn't going to angrily shove him away, and that maybe this was okay, he heard the door unlock, and was met with a very drunk John Winchester, who quickly made his opinions about the scene before him, known. And Dean quickly realized that he couldn't just push off this off as some drunken mistake, because that's the moment when he first knew.

And now at age 42, he's happily married with a handful of kids that are his in every way that matters, living in the suburbs with a big kitchen and a deck out back, and it should make those moments feel like a lifetime ago.

But he's still somehow there. They're still fresh in his mind as if they happened a few days ago, the feeling of fear still fresh. Even though he's come so damn far, he's gotten farther than he ever thought he would, he still feels like that terrified little kid again.

All because of some stupid, flimsy piece of fabric.

And Dean knows it's ridiculous. He's married to a man for gods sake, a man who he kisses in public and fights with in the grocery store and who's hand he holds when they walk down the street. And it's not like he's worried about anyone's reaction, since they were all at the wedding, they've been to dinner at their house multiple time, not to mention it would be a little hypocritical of pretty much everyone he knows.

And Dean knows all of that, but he still just feels li-

With a heavy sigh, Dean sits on the corner of the bed running his hands through his hair.

Because it's not that he doesn't want the "label", or thinks that he needs to have it or thinks the label is wrong. He wants the label. He likes the idea of being able to call it something. And he knows it's the right one because during the very few times he was brave enough to google it, he realized it was the one that fits the best.

So why can't he just hav-

Pulling his hands away from his face, he slowly turns to look across the bed, heart leaping into his throat when he catches sight of it. And he finds himself frozen, unable to look a way, let alone reach out for it.

And Dean knows he's being ridiculous because he's faced far worse than this. He's died so many times he's lost count, he's saved the world multiple times, he's killed monsters, ancient cosmic beings, been to other dimensions, he's fought Heaven and Hell, and damnit he's even fought God.

But after all of that, he's still afraid of a little fucking scrap of pink, purple and blue fabric currently clashing with the floral comforter. Paralyzed by fear at the sight of it.

So with a grunt Dean practically launches himself across the bed grabbing the offending object and he's on his feet again pacing around the room.

It's just a piece of fabric. It's just a word.

But you know it's more than that.

And something drops deep in the pit of Dean's stomach, as that familiar feeling of fear continues to creep over him, consuming his thoughts.

Because it's more than just a piece if fabric, it's more than just a word and Dean knows that. To him it means something more, and god he wants to have what it means.

Why can't he just let himself wan-

Dean's footsteps stall, and he finds himself standing in front of the mirror.

And when he meets his gaze, all he can see is that confused little boy looking back, that terrified fifteen year old kid, the twenty year old who was just caught and nearly killed by his own Da-no.

Dean shuts that thought down while he's ahead. Because he learned a long time ago not to let his father dictate his life choices, he learned how to stop letting his ghost prevent him from doing what he wants. He's already worked through and made peace with that trauma, well as much as you can work through that kinda crap, that is. But he's come a long way, he's married, he's got kids, he's got a family, he's got a life that he's damn proud of. So he's sure as hell not not gonna let John Winchester have a place in this.

Because this is about Dean. And what Dean wants.

So shaking his head, Dean finds his eyes in the mirror again.

It's just a piece of fabric. It's just a word. And it's a word Dean wants to own. It's a piece of fabric Dean wants to hold. So why the hell can't he just le-

Because you still can't let yourself have what you want.

His heart skips in his chest as he grips the dresser attached to the mirror

After everything he's been through. After saving the world, and Cas's confession, and the wedding, and the house in the suburbs. He let himself have Cas, but he can't let himself have this thing and-

Oh.

Dean can barely admit it to himself most of the time, but he's aware that he believes that wanting, is selfish. That he thinks his wants are inherently selfish things and so he can't let himself want. And logically he knows that's crazy because everybody wants something, but he jus-can't let himself. And for years he could barely let himself think about wanting Cas, and then after everything that happened he jus-he to let himself be selfish just once and want him. But that was only after he knew Cas wanted him too, which made Dean's want, "unselfish" because it would make Cas happy too. That want was technically for both of them, and that's what he told himself.

And that's why Dean hasn't been able to let himself want the label too.

Because wanting the label is something, just for himself.

And Dean chuckles lowly at the irony. Dean Winchester has free will for the first time in his life, and he still just can't let himself have what he wants.

He rubs a hand down his face, pausing when he spots the fabric in the mirror. Dean slowly looks down at his other hand to see it clutched in a white knuckled grip.

And he thinks of the way he felt when he first saw it on some website, after finally convinced himself to open his laptop in the late hours of the night all those years ago. And he thinks of the smile on Sam's face when he handed it to him after their weekly Friday night dinner, as he was on the way out the door. And how he never specifically talked about it with him, but Sam seemed to know anyway, like always. He thinks of Cas' understanding smile as he softly told him he definitely didn't need it if he wasn't ready or didn't want it, and how he didn't even have to come today. And how he never expressed any of this to him, but Cas seemed to know, like always.

And he thinks of how he might feel, holding the scrap of fabric a little more gently. And he thinks of how he might feel holding it today, where everyone can see.

And he makes his choice.

So with unsteady hands he releases his iron grip, and carefully threads it through one of his belt loops. He squeezes his eyes shut, as he tilts his head back up towards the mirror. Then he slowly opens them.

Dean's breath catches when he sees as the flag hanging at his hip, stopping just above his knee. He takes a moment just to stare at the way it sways slightly, side to side. Then his eyes continue their ascent upwards until they meet his face in the mirror. And he finds a small smile pulling at his lips, reflection becoming a little blurred.

Because for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester is going to let himself have what he wants.

Simply because, he wants it.

He spends the next few minutes just staring at his reflection like an idiot, and that thought causes the smile to grow wider, tipping his head back as a soft laugh bubbles up his throat.

But god he's felt lighter than he has in years.

"Everyone's here, are you ready to go?" Cas asks suddenly appearing in the doorway with a soft smile as Dean meets his eye in the mirror. His hair is a mess like always, but he's decked out in a rainbow striped shirt and socks, and he's even got a little flag painted on his cheek, and his smile grows even wider as his eyes pan down to Dean's waist.

And in three strides Dean's across the room and wrapped in his arms, staring into those wide eyes.

"I'm bisexual" Dean chokes out suddenly, voice thick as he releases a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. He quickly looks down, unable to meet Cas’ eye, unable to look at his reaction. Then hands are cupping his cheeks, slowly tilting his head upwards.

"I'm so proud of you" Cas whispers, thumbs wiping away stray tears Dean hadn't realized where falling. It pulls a watery laugh from his chest. 

"Cmon, let's go before Sam starts bitchin’ about how late we are" Dean laughs, trying not to think too much about how big of a deal what he just said was. And he knows Cas can see right through him, but he thankfully lets it slide. But not before pressing a soft kiss to Dean's lips, and leading the way into the living room.

And later when Dean's standing downtown, he realizes he's more relaxed than he thought he'd be. Luckily nobody made a big deal about the flag at Dean's hip, and hell he even let Jack paint three little stripes on his cheek, but he definitely didn't miss the wide smile on Sam's face. And when they got to the small Pride event, Dean was surprised see a decent amount of people sporting the same colors, one girl even had her hair dyed the same colors, each person shooting Dean a small smile of acknowledgement. And now with Cas' arms wrapped around his waist, watching Claire, Kaia and Jack all dance around to the music blasting in the streets, as he wonders where Sam and Eileen have gone, he tries to memorize how he feels at this exact moment. Because he rea-

His thought is cut short by Cas suddenly pulling him down for a kiss, like he’d done a billion times before, but one of his hands comes to rest by the flag at his hip.

"I really am so proud of you" Cas whispers into the kiss, and Dean can feel the smile stretching across his lips, pulling him closer.

Yeah. Lighter than he's felt in years.

Tag list:

(please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed💛)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @bichaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @subbydean @organicpurplepants @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @writtendevastation

@tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @sinnabonka @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @icefire149 @dakiaty @seffersonjtarship @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @jewishdeanwinchester @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @aestheticflyer26

@slipper007 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @winchester-novak @lyonessrampant @angelic-bee-enthusiast @nguyenxtrang @idiot-on-the-hill @fandoms-and-things @doreschary @confix @itsanending @thiscowboyisbisexual @milfcodeddean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @smokerdean

[copias-thrall]

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be  alist, but it got away from me! 😅 

Enjoy 😘 

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time. 

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.) 

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy. 

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-* 

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day 

goin upste 2 show 

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm? 

yeah. got me thinkin 

why no show? 

so i chked 

i missed one 

gotta do it 

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans. 

save em 

ths is impt 2 me 

We’ve had this planned for weeks. 

i thot u suprted me 

on a bus cnt tlk 

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being. 

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him. 

What? 

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

[buckyjamess-archive]

𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter eighteen • a/n: last chapter folks- wanna thank all those who interacted/read it, I hope you enjoyed it! ♡ gonna miss these fools, ngl • wordcount: 2k • warnings: nothing but fluff. Parenthood. Babies. Kids.

summary

going through  rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

His hands are warmer and maybe even bigger as his fingers are intertwined with yours, gently swaying back and forth, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand or a light squeeze to remind you he's still there. 

a few steps ahead, rosie groans, huffs and puffs as she pushes the stroller the best she can. Talking to her little brother who gurgles back just as much. 

"You're really heavy!" 

a soft pink, round handbag with minnie mouse printed on the front hangs loosely in Steve's other hand. Handed to him seconds after leaving the restaurant by Rosie herself as she offered to push her little brother back home. A heavy diaper bag he'd taken off the stroller to take away some weight, hangs of his shoulder– you told him you could carry one of the two but Steve being Steve, refused your offer and instead clamped his hand in yours.

A day out planned by the man walking next to you. A day with the four of you, letting Rosie and JJ get used to Steve being around for more than the two hours every night before getting tucked in. That Steve wasn't just a friend anymore– though Rosie 'just knew' when you told her Steve was more than a friend, a special friend. 

'I don't kiss my friends like that' 

Rosie didn't mind, or at least you think. She was good with everyone, stranger or not. Opening up to Steve wasn't a problem, becoming friends with Steve came easy for the girl. 

And bucky, bucky would always be dad.

'Now I have three daddies. My real daddy, my normal daddy and steve.' 

And though you never intended to let Steve in your life so quickly, it became serious pretty fast. 

Delicately glueing back each other's pieces left of a broken heart; giving solace, a shoulder to cry on and someone to hold. Steve and you never intended to become this, you were just friends, used-to-be-coworkers. It happened. Bucky no longer floating through your head every other minute or feeling that ache in your chest– just you and Steve and for now after the heartbreak Bucky caused you could in all honesty say that Steve Rogers treated you better than anyone ever did.

The stroller comes to a halt when Rosie stills in front of the apartment block. She let's go of the stroller and places both hands on her sides, bright yellow sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose, she sighs heavily. 

"That was heavy." 

You and Steve chuckle at Rosie her stance as if an old man admiring his self-built furniture, sarcasm dripping from her body yet as innocent as can be. 

"I bet it was, kid." 

"Yes, JJ eats too much." 

"Says the girl who ate all my fries." 

Letting go of your hand, Steve hands Rosie back her own bag which she happily takes– slipping the diaper bag from his shoulder, you wrap your hand around it and carefully toss it over your own. Hand digging in to find your keys. Taking the few steps up the building, you push open the door and watch how Steve casually carries the stroller and JJ up the steps and follows Rosie in the building.

The walk to the elevator is short, the three of you and the stroller packed tight in the small space– you stay quiet, watching the interaction between Rosie and Steve, your heart grows ten times its size. You thank the gods above for giving you all these amazing men in your life, even if they broke your heart in different ways- teaching you the ways of life, giving the best things to ever exist, trusting you, caring about you..loving you.

Riley, your first real love. The one that changed your life forever. Teaching the ropes of this crazy thing called adult life. Be the calm to your chaos. Showed you love like you'd never had before– sure enough about it all to put a ring around your finger and giving you the most important job of them all; be a mother to a beautiful, funny and feisty daughter. Riley who gave you real heartbreak, leaving an empty hole in your heart and took a piece of your soul with him

Sam who stood by your side through it all. Going through the process together of losing a spouse and partner on the field. Your shoulder to lean on when things got rough, a friend of your man turned into your best friend– showing you the meaning of family by letting you into his own.

Bucky who stole your heart so fast, you never had a chance to let it settle– a wild man willing to wait. A wild man who showed you that life after Riley could be something beautiful; taught you how to love again, brought you back to life and gave you the gift you call your son, gave Rosie a father figure. Bucky the best mistake you'd ever made in your life.

And maybe all these men were needed to get you with the one. Without Riley no Sam and without Sam no Bucky, and you'd never have met Steve if you didn't move to Brooklyn. All these men lead you to him.

Steve. The man who picked up the pieces and put them back together– the man you so desperately needed in your life. The calm that Riley once gave you and the wild and silly bucky once showed. The one for real this time.

Even if things didn't go your way, men changing every chapter of your book– life was pretty amazing. 

Steve must've seen the slight wobble of your chin and your eyes filling with tears. His firm hand back into yours, you look up to meet his blues, you shoot him a tight lipped smile.

"Mommy, why are you crying?" 

You inhale deeply, quickly wiping away the tears that have made their way down your cheeks and not trusting your own voice, you smile at your daughter but shrug. 

"You know what I think?" Steve quips, the hand that's intertwined with yours now snaking around your waist to pull you ever closer into his side "I think mom's just really happy." 

Rosie nods unsure but gives a toothy grin "then I'm happy too, then we're all happy." 

"Then we're all happy." 

He reads you like an open book, something you got to love and hate over the last few weeks. Nitpicking little flaws to get under your skin or be the biggest sap whenever you're feeling down; he knows you like the back of his hand. 

"This is so stupid," you breath out a shaky chuckle "Jesus, I'm crying in an elevator–" 

"It's not stupid," Steve reassures "we're all just very happy, right?" 

"Yeah." You nod. 

Squeezing your side, Steve let's you know he's there and plants a kiss to your temple before resting his chin upon your head.

"I love you, sweetheart." 

Bucky can't quite believe it himself; just a month ago he labeled Steve Rogers as his arch enemy and wish bad things upon the blonde and now, now bucky hopes and wishes the blonde would treat you better than anyone else– welcomed Steve into the mess. 

At ease, okay, alright but above all grateful. You didn't kick him out of your life or that of his kids– you wouldn't be the first mother to do such a thing, he's seen it on TV multiple times. Bucky's grateful that you and him still were a thing just not the same. Parents of your kids, friends.

Though jealousy would strike once in a while and he reminded himself of the mistake he'd made, It was good this way.

Big helium balloons in the shape of letters and numbers float above the table shoved against the wall, reading 'JJ 1 YEAR'. Silver birthday garlands hanging from ceilings along the baby blue and white balloons– table filled with snacks, gifts and drinks. Cramped in your apartment but done together– texting back and forth, nights of planning brought you all here, JJ his first birthday.

Friends and family here to celebrate something the two of you made from love.

Bucky leans against the kitchen bar, one hand tucked deep into the pocket of his jeans and the other wrapped around a bottle of beer. Eyes upon the small crowd gathered and lands on Steve, barely on his knees next to a side table, small plastic tiara on his head as Rosie applies makeup on the guy's face from the set she'd just got as a gift from uncle Sam.

Bucky smiles, at least you picked a child magnet, a guy who'll love his kids as much as the two of you do. 

Bucky scans the crowd again and spots you without any problem, another smile on his face at the sight of his godchild hailey holding JJ, probably gossiping around with you.

It's good this way.

"Hey man." 

Snapping out of his own world, Bucky meets the eyes of a man he hasn't spoken to in months; sam. Not since he got to learn about Bucky's mistake.

"Hey." Bucky shoots him a tight lipped smile.

Standing still next to Bucky, Sam leans against the bar in the same stance and follows Bucky's gaze to the crowd to you, his son and hailey.

"He looks like you." Sam confesses "scary." 

Letting his head fall, Bucky chuckles and nods "at least we know it's mine." 

Sam chuckles along till it dies down, silence falling over both men as they keep watching the scene in front of them. How you leave Hailey with her nephew and mingle with some friends– bucky can feel Sam's eyes burning on his face. 

"Told you so, didn't I?" 

Bucky snorts "Let's not go there, I've learned my lesson." 

"Do you?" Sam quips with a grin on his face "No new love on the horizon?" 

Bucky nods, he has learned his lesson and he knows he'll never find someone like you again– he has definitely learned his lesson and definitely not ready for something new.

"No man, I'm going to focus on my kids." Bucky breathes out a soft chuckle "apparently I still have two." 

"Rosie loves you– I have to thank you for that, giving Rosie a father figure." 

"Wouldn't trade it for anything else." 

"I know." 

Another, comfortable silence falls like a thick blanket. Knowing each other well enough to know what they're thinking– a smile creeping on both men's faces at the sight of you pushing yourself past some people and beelining towards the duo.

"Mind If I join?" 

Scooting aside, both Sam and bucky make space for you in between and your arm that snakes around Bucky's back gives him a warm and fuzzy feeling– he pulls you closer into his side with his arm dropped over your shoulder 

"A year ago you nearly passed out." You mumble softly 

"I didn't pass out." Bucky scoffs 

"I said nearly–" 

"Not even nearly." 

"The nurses had to sit you down." 

"They never–" 

"They did!" 

It's a game of back and forth, getting underneath each other's skin and Bucky hopes things like this will never change even if you decided to spend the rest of your life with steve. The silly arguments, the silly fights and the lame jokes– bucky would be alright as long as that stayed. 

The squeeze around his side makes Bucky aware you're still there. Locking eyes with yours, one's he's found himself lost in many times before, he copies your smile. 

"What?" 

"Nothing– we did good." You state.

Though things didn't go the way it was supposed to, the two of you did good indeed, more than good even. 

"I think we did amazing." Bucky smiles back.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder a bit tighter, he places a quick kiss on your forehead before following your gaze into the crowd, his daughter, his son, his family and steve.

It's good this way.

"So, guys," Sam clears his throat from beside you "really gotta know what happened on hailey her birthday party that day." 

"No, you don't." You and Bucky chuckle in unison "you really don't."

Taglist: @farfromshawn @Nicollettemarie @wooya1224 @felicityofbakerstreet @agentmstark @sierrax023 @lilyevanswhore @qhbr2013 @buckybarnesobsessed @themaddies-obx @aloserwithoutacause @aanngie @sebby-staan @sweetth1ng @starrystarkey93 @libidinexx @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @gasly-kvyat @brown-bi-beautiful @peter-laufeyson @im-squished @meshlababy @lindseyrae20 @cb97skies @qwccrr @ssprayberrythings @yougottalovefandoms @jbcalway @realgaytrash @natyvwe @poetryazenth @winterberryfox @ahahafudge @okiegirl24 @0moondoodler0 @why-wait-4-eventually @abzidabzy

[immortalecstasy-blog]

The Man From Willow Creek - PART ONE Pairing: Mountain Man! Dean/Author! Reader

Y/N isn't in a good headspace, so her publisher sends her off to a remote cabin in the mountains in an attempt to rid her of all distractions and produce the highly anticipated first draft of her last book. But as she battles with snow, word counts, and surprise visitors, she learns that not every battle needs to be won, and that happy endings aren't always what we'd think.

WC ≈ 35,000 Total A/N: Thank you to@redweddingsandbowties for helping me to churn out over 25,000 words in a week and filtering out my typing fails. Warnings: Violence, Recreational Drug Use, 18+ Smut, Pet Death

Read on AO3 or...

“Miss, your total is $426.54. Miss?”

Y/N blinked and looked up at the cashier before taking her credit card out and handing it over.

“Are you stocking up for the end of the world?” The cashier asks as he runs her card. Y/N glances at the trolley loaded with a months’ worth of non-perishables and a dozen crates of beer.

“Something like that.” She tells him as she scribbles her signature on the store receipt.

The trolley is a bit on the heavy side as she heaves it across the car park towards her truck, but she manages it. When she’s got everything all loaded up beside the bags and bags of logs she’s worked up a sweat and has to unzip her coat as she climbs up into the driver’s seat. The truck feels empty without her little border terrier, and she finds herself wishing Harley could have been with her for this new adventure.

It had been her publisher’s idea to go on this little escapade, to get her out of the city, away from all the distractions. He cared more about the lack of pages than her deteriorating mental health, but for the sake of her sanity she had agreed that a month-long retreat into the mountains might do more for her writer’s block than being in her too quiet apartment. Her creative juices had bit the dust around the same time she’d had to make the heart-breaking decision to have Harley put to sleep.

His other idea had been to get a new dog. She’d used some extraordinarily strong language at that suggestion, so… mountains.

She feels fairly well prepared. Provisioned. Whatever. The cabin her publisher had found had been empty for a few years, and she had been warned that it may take a bit of work to get the generator working, and that there would be no mobile signal out there either. But she had been equipped with a satellite phone and the publisher had done some technological whizz-bang magic that meant she would be able to send and receive emails via satellite. She’d also done her own extensive research, which hopefully meant that once she arrived, she wouldn’t have to make the drive back to civilisation until her month was up and her first draft was on its way. She had churned out three books a year at some points, she could manage this.

She reaches over to the passenger seat to pick up one of her many notebooks, this one was her ‘survival plan’. “Snow tyres, check. Firewood, yes. Socks, hundreds…” She went down the whole list, covering everything from dry shampoo to copious amounts of candy and snacks. She’d even found a repair manual for the generator online, and had both printed and laminated it, just to be thorough.

“Okay, let’s do this.” She says aloud, still not used to Harley’s absence. The truck’s engine whines a little as it starts up, and she takes a moment to put the map (also laminated) on top of the paperwork piled up on the passenger seat. She still had a few hours until noon, plenty of time to get to the cabin while it was still light and make some sort of order out of it before dark.

The first two hours of her journey went as expected. She didn’t even miss the hairpin turn she had been dreading, but as the bare trees began to curl over the road and block the sun, she felt a prickle of unease. Wishing again for Harley. What was she thinking? A woman, on her own, hiding out in a run-down cabin in the middle of nowhere, all for a book she was contracted to write but had no heart for.

The last four years of her career had been dedicated to her high fantasy trilogy, the world, its characters, its mysteries. Mystery solved and arcs resolved, her baby was done. Before that she had spent years churning out a crappy serial romance saga before a well-earned break funded by selling the rights to turn them into a television series. That was until the inspiration for The Fallen had hit her. But of course, the publishers were keen to squeeze out more profit, and had coerced her into signing another book deal. They wanted a revival of the romance saga, but after over twelve years of being free from churning out two or three contentless books a year, it wasn’t something she wanted to revisit. Besides, it felt ridiculous to be in her early thirties, and turning back to something she started when she was only seventeen. Something different. She didn’t know how to write different. She had planned to save the existential breakdown until she’d arrived and at least got a fire going, but apparently her brain hadn’t got the memo, and she had to pull over to stumble from the truck and put her head between her knees. She focused on her breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose… “C’mon, you can do this.” … out through the mouth.

As she climbed back into the truck sometime later, she heard an engine and slammed her door shut just in time to see beaten up chevy truck thundering past, black smoke sputtering from its exhaust. The driver beeped their horn at her, and her panic was replaced with annoyance. She’d picked a safe place to pull over, she wasn’t blocking the road. Hell, that dick didn’t even have to move positions from the centre of the road.

Apart from the short break at the side of the road, and a five-minute detour down the wrong lane, Y/N was making good time. The only problem came when the cabin was actually in sight. A tree was blocking the drive, and nowhere on the map could she pick out any way to go around. The cabin looked to be only a ten-minute walk away, but everything was blanketed in thick snow, and she had a months’ worth of wood, food, water…not to mention all her writing stuff, clothes, blankets… beers. It would take an insane number of trips and eat into her daylight. But the tree was huge, and even if she had a chain or ropes to try and pull it out of the way, she had no idea how she’d do so safely. That wasn’t something she had researched how to do.

She climbed out and her legs disappeared up to her knees in the thick snow. Not to be put off by the first hurdle, she found the keys for the cabin, gathered up the only valuable things in the truck (namely her laptop and the satellite phone), and locked the truck behind her. The tree had a tangle of roots, so it seemed to have fallen naturally. Not that she really knew what she was looking at. She skirted around the edge and stomped through the snow towards the cabin, which was bigger than she had imagined. The ‘ten minute’ walk took closer to fifteen minutes, hampered by the snow, and then there was the issue of trying to get the door open. The wood seemed to have swelled, and she had to throw her shoulder against it several times before it burst open in a cloud of dust.

It stank. It had that unlived in smell, like stagnant water, and she kept the door open – not just for the light – but for the fresh air.

It was much as she expected really, a small kitchenette (which really was just a log stove and a cobweb infested sink with a single section of worktop) with a small dining table and four chairs. A mismatched armchair and leather sofa tucked close to a log burner. Two doors stood off the one side, presumably to a bedroom and a bathroom. “Right.” She said, setting her laptop bag down and wondering what to do first.

The owners hadn’t been sure that the water supply would still work, which is why she had lugged her own plastic barrels up here, but if it was working, she wouldn’t have to carry so many.

The pumped the lever over the sink a few times, still flushed from the hard walk. After a few tries, the tap sputtered out a dead spider and rust coloured liquid, followed a moment later by clear, precious water. The initial horror at the colour of the stuff still had her deciding to get some water from the truck, however.

“Okay.” She said to herself, stepping back. “Water, oil, logs, clothes for the night, bedding, cleaning stuff. Food.” She ran through her list again and then nodded, satisfied. On her way out of the door she spotted a big old wooden sled propped up under the window. “Perfect.”

Her second trip took longer than the first, fighting the sled the entire way and almost losing the barrel of water. It slid off the sled and looked for a moment like it might roll clean of the mountain, but the packed snow stopped it in its tracks.

Catching her breath for the next trip, she checked the other side of the two doors. Discovering to her horror that both led to bedrooms, then – to her relief – that the master bedroom had a rather basic en suite. It contained one of those giant clawfoot baths you only ever saw in movies, though this one was an old-fashioned green colour and a bit rusty around the plug. She hoped she could get the generator running to enjoy a soak at some point.

She tested the double bed in the master bedroom, and then checked both the twin beds, testing which of the three was the most comfortable, and therefore the one she would be using. The other bedroom, she would use as storage for all her supplies. The big bed in the room with the en suite was fortunately the comfiest, which meant she could pile all her stuff into the room with the twin beds.

She found an old oil lamp in the kitchen cupboards and a little paraffin heater in the cupboard under the sink. It was the ancient kind with no warning labels. Though common sense filled in the unwritten ‘use in a well-ventilated space or you will suffocate’. She set it up, just to take the edge of until she could get a fire going and put the lamp on the dining table next to her laptop, deciding there and then that this evening would be electricity free. She didn’t want to have to deal with the frustrations of the generator, and it seemed encompassing of her new mountain persona to forgo some of the basic necessities.

Two trips later and her hands are blistered from the friction of the sled rope, even through her gloves. Her legs are screaming at her, and despite the three thick pairs of socks, she would put all her royalties betting on frost bite setting in. There’s one last trip to make sure she has everything she’ll need for the night and most of the next day, and then she covers the flatbed of her truck with its waterproof cover and makes sure it’s stupidly tight. None of her things will enjoy a night in the freezing cold, but as long as nothing gets too damp, everything will be fine.

The door had been open all this time, so the cabin is now just as chilled as outside, but at least it smells fresher now. Her phone – devoid of all signal – becomes a glorified sound system. The oil heater starts to inject a little warmth, and as soon as it’s warm enough to abandon her coat and gloves, she gets to work on making the place fit for habitation.

“…As long as my heart's beating, and these old lungs keep breathing, the highs and the lows, yes and the no’s…” She sings loudly as she sweeps out the log stove of half burnt longs and powdery grey ash.

By the time the sun is setting, the whole cabin is as dust free as it can be without a hoover, the log fire is roaring, the bed is made, and the only lingering issue is the draft from the front door, which – having been forced to open – is now refusing to close properly. Having decided that the back and forth from the truck was enough work for one day, Y/N simply snacks instead of making a dinner and then sits by the fire with her notebook and pen. The flannel patterned throw she’d bought from home depot thrown over her legs.

Nothing comes. Not even a silly doodle in the margin. True, she usually wrote on her laptop. But the charge wouldn’t last long, and she’d been prepared to write this book by hand.

Even with the fire and the blanket there seems to be a wickedly cool draft, and she makes a note to put a makeshift draft excluder together in the morning. Finished with her bag of chips, she stands to select another snack and grab a beer, missing Harley weaving between her legs. She twists the cap of the beer bottle and walks back to the sofa and freezes in surprise.

On the sofa, is a pleased looking black Labrador.

The beer bottle slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor. The dilemma of broken glass and soft paws snapping her out of her shock.

“Hello…” She says slowly, answered by a thumping tail on brown leather. “You stay there. Okay?”

thump thump thump

“Okay, good boy… girl… good dog. Stay.”

Fortunately all the cleaning supplies are in easy reach. Y/N focuses on sweeping up the broken glass as a priority, ignoring the beer sloshing around the stone floor and seeping into the rope rug. Glass sorted; she gets a cloth to wipe the beer up. The front door in ajar, which explains how the dog got in. But it doesn’t explain what they’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere. They seem happy enough, well fed, shiny coat, wet nose. So they’re obviously being cared for by someone.

“Okay, it’s safe.” She tells the Labrador from the floor once she’s sure all the glass is up. They seem to be a pro at broken bottles, because with the all-clear, they jump from the sofa and come greet her properly.

“Oh, yes, hello. Nice to meet you too.” She tells them, trying to shove their face away as their tongue makes a beeline for her mouth. She giggles, giving their neck a good scratch. There’s a chain collar, but no tags. “Where are you from, huh?” She asks, attempting to stand, her knees protesting against the stone floor.

There’s a tremendous bang and the front door flies open. Halfway to her feet, Y/N loses her balance and topples onto her back, staring up into the doorway.

Where a bearded man in a Stetson and a heavy coat is pointing a shotgun at her.

PART TWO

[deancasheadcanons]

Something Only I Would Know

[ao3]

1.7k words

15x20 fix-it (kinda), warning for Dean being ableist, thanks to @saywhatjessie for letting me use her headcanon that Dean could’ve been paralyzed by the rusty nail

Just as Dean was hoisting his left leg onto his bed, one of the phones rang in the library. He sighed and moved his leg rest back into place, then wheeled out to the hallway, hoping he could get to the phone in time. Sam was on a hunt with Eileen out in Iowa, and Jody and Claire were taking out some werewolves up in Nowhere, Michigan, but other than that, nobody else should be calling. 

He didn’t make it in time. As he sifted through the phones to figure out where the missed call came from, something crashed in the kitchen.

“Who’s there?” he yelled forcefully, grabbing a shotgun from a table before pushing himself to the kitchen.

“Son of a bitch,” a familiar voice said just as Dean turned the corner.

He looked right at himself, all six-foot-one of himself standing in the middle of the kitchen, his legs working just fine.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” other Dean said, progressively raising his voice until the end of the sentence was a shout. He glared up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna kill you, Chuck!”

“Which universe are you from?” Dean asked calmly.

Other Dean glared down at him, jaw clenched. “The real one. And you’re obviously from one where I’m bad enough at my job to land myself in a goddamn wheelchair. That’s real great.”

“No,” Dean said, sizing his other self up. “You’re too much like me.” A memory came back to him, something he said to himself in a situation similar to this one, years ago. “Tell me something only I would know.”

“Oh come on, don’t quote me to me.” Other Dean took a beer out of the fridge and tossed the cap in the direction of the trash can. “Although if you’re from a different universe, I guess you wouldn’t have a memory of that. I must just say the same shit in every version of myself.”

“I do have a memory of it.” 

They glared at each other.

Dean said, “Camp Chitaqua.”

Other Dean blinked. “Yeah, OK.” He took a long pull from his beer, staring pointedly at the wheelchair as he did. “What year is it?”

“It’s 2022.”

Other Dean dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Ah, fuck. How’d we end up crippled?”

“No. Tell me something only I would know.”

Other Dean stared at him, annoyed. He lost the staring contest after half a minute, shaking his head and scoffing and then taking another long drink of beer. He then looked down at the table and said loudly, “Cas.”

“Excuse me?”

Other Dean raised his eyes. “He told me he loved—he said he loved me. And that he realized he couldn’t have what he wanted. And then the Empty took him.”

Dean ran his tongue along his top teeth. “OK, you are me.” He pushed his wheelchair forward and moved the shotgun from his lap to the table. “And you must be from 2020.”

“Oh goddamn it, I’m gonna lose my legs that soon?” Other Dean stood and said, “Christ, I need a stronger drink.”

“We don’t have anything stronger.”

“What?”

“I don’t drink anymore. The beer is for everybody else that comes through here.”

Other Dean sat back down. “Is Sam—”

“On a hunt with Eileen. Everybody’s fine. Well, except.” Dean gestured to the room and shook his head. 

“Except your legs?”

He leveled himself with an impatient glare. “No. It’s a C7 spinal cord injury, and it’s really not that big of a fucking deal. I was talking about Cas.”

Other Dean looked at his beer bottle, picking at the label with his thumbs. “Chuck is trying to show us that we have no free will. He threw me here to prove that I can’t change anything about our lives.”

“Oh, like The Time Traveler’s Wife?”

Other Dean made a face at him, but then his eyebrows raised in realization. “Right, we read that a couple years ago. Man, I forgot about that. Yeah. Like, why would I try to bring Cas back if I’m sitting here with you now, and you’re telling me Cas never came back? So what’s the point of me trying to bring him back if I already know he’s not here in 2022?”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together as he thought for a minute. Eventually he said, “I know you’re me because I never told anybody that Cas is in love with me.”

“Whoa, whoa, he didn’t say—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Dean swallowed. “Let me tell you something, alright? You’re gonna spend a couple months having no fucking idea what to do with yourself, no clue how to cope, so you and Sam are gonna try to do some run-of-the-mill hunts, and guess what? On the very first one you’re gonna break your fucking back after being impaled on some shitty nail in the wall. You’re gonna spend six months laid up in bed feeling sorry for yourself, drinking yourself stupid, wanting to die, praying yourself hoarse to Cas, and Cas is not gonna fucking show up!” 

He took a ragged breath and continued, “And Jack doesn’t either. And then Sam’s gonna tell you that he needs you to get your shit together, and it’s not because he needs your help saving the world or even just needs your help on a hunt, it’s because he wants to get married, wants to marry Eileen, so you’re gonna put your sorry life back together enough to be the best man at your brother’s wedding, and that’s when you’re gonna realize that there’s more to your shit life than the selfish things that you want—things like, I don’t know, being able to walk? And having Cas.” He closed his eyes. “You’re gonna realize that Cas meant that he was in love with you, that he wanted to be with you, and you’re gonna have to deal with the enormity of that. That this—that a being so ancient and so huge and literally so incomprehensible to you that your ears bled the first time you heard him speak—that he could learn love? From your sorry ass? Look at me, Dean. Listen to what I’m saying to you.” 

He waited until other Dean looked him in the eye. “Eventually you’re gonna accept the fact that Cas lived thousands of years without doing anything other than following the will of heaven, never changing course, only to meet you and learn love so completely that the only thing he wants is to be with you. The first selfish, human desire of his life. You. And you didn’t even get the time to process it, to tell him that you love him, too, before he was gone. So the best you can do is try to actually live your fucking life, because he died to save you.”

The silence between them was heavy. Eventually other Dean said, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I never told anybody. Listen to me, Chuck said Cas didn’t do what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you—us. He changed things when he told you. So you can change things, too. Go back to your time and fucking tell somebody. Is Jack still around? For fuck’s sake, tell Jack.”

“I can’t—everything you just told me, I can’t—I haven’t…”

“Dean, listen. I know. I know how you feel. I know you, and I know you don’t trust yourself, but look at me. I’m different than you, alright? You can trust me. I just threw two years of emotional processing at you, of course you can’t deal with that. But you can do just one thing. Just one. Tell Jack.”

Other Dean studied his face. “You really are different.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged and looked at his legs. “Turns out being loved by a cosmic being changes you.”

“And being paralyzed.”

“No, trust me, that’s easier to deal with.”

Other Dean huffed a small laugh and nodded. “Uh, what are you gonna do? What happens now?”

“Don’t worry about me, you just—”

A loud crack cut Dean off, then his other self disappeared out of existence. He looked around the kitchen warily, as if something dramatic was about to happen. Instead, a phone once again began ringing in the library. 

As Dean wheeled through the hallway, he felt a splitting headache and had to stop and close his eyes. Images flashed through his brain, mostly of him and Cas, and then they abruptly stopped and he felt fine. The phone was still ringing.

He only made it a few more feet before the headache returned, worse than before. Images, so fast and loud in his head that it felt like his brain would explode. When they stopped, he blinked his eyes open and had a realization. 

“It’s not The Time Traveler’s Wife. It’s—” he did a 180 in his wheelchair and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Cas standing at the end of the hall. “ — Looper.”

“Ah, we’ve finally caught up, then?” Cas said shyly as he walked toward Dean. He squatted in front of him, not in a patronizing way, but as a gesture of trust, submission. “You said it would be soon. You made me watch Looper so I would understand . Does your head feel alright?”

Dean put his hand to Cas’ face, delicately, like he might disappear if he touched him too much. “Cas.”

Cas turned his head and kissed Dean’s palm, then held his hand against his face and smiled at him. “I’m right here.”

The memories kept coming back to Dean, the changed timeline, his past self defeating Chuck and immediately telling Jack that he had to bring Cas back because he never got the chance to tell him he loved him, too. Then—still getting hurt on a hunt, still needing time to process and adjust, to give up drinking, learn how to accept Cas’ love and to love Cas properly in return—but easier this time, because Cas was there. Cas gave him space and time, all while loving him and taking care of him.

Dean took a deep breath. “C’mere, Cas.”

He didn’t wait. He pulled Cas up into his arms and buried his face in his neck and said, “I love you, you can have me. You can have me forever.”

Cas laughed gently. “I know, Dean. I love you, too.”

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

NOTES:

The Time Traveler's Wife (book) - Henry has no agency and no free will because he time travels randomly to different parts of his life and therefore knows everything that happens before it happens, and can't change any of it.

Looper (movie) - When people time travel to the past and try to change their lives, their memories change in the present as the timeline of their lives change.

[pedros-mustache]

mr. grinch

summary: javi was never going to be the all-out-for-the-holidays type, was he?

word count: 2.7k

warnings: borderline soft!javi (the heart wants what the heart wants), specifically related to the christmas holiday, a disgusting amount of fluff, x fem!reader

a/n: wrote a post about this concept and decided that wasn’t enough. my forte is angst and pining, not fluff, so forgive me if this is trash.

also: this will be repeated in the future, i’m sure, but if you have at all interacted with/commented on/reblogged/liked any of my previous fics thank! you! i would reply to each and every comment however that would require exposing my main (as this is a side-blog) and that’s not gonna happen. please know that i see and feel your love! xoxo! 

you long for the day after thanksgiving more than thanksgiving itself. 

sure, you enjoy the november holiday; it’s not like you hate it. especially since getting married, since having kids, you find thanksgiving means a little more to you now than it did prior to adulthood.

you enjoy packing the kids up and traveling across town to your mother’s house for thanksgiving breakfast and then packing the kids up again and going to javi’s father’s house for thanksgiving dinner. you enjoy sitting beside your husband, your hand on his thigh, as you watch your children play with their cousins or be passed around by distant aunts and uncles. you enjoy knowing that you’re safe, that javi’s safe, that the babies are safe. you enjoy knowing that you’re loved.

really, thanksgiving is nice, a good reminder of all that you have to be thankful for. but it’s just that: nice.

the day after thanksgiving, though... that’s when the real fun begins.

since childhood, your family has waited to decorate for christmas until the day after thanksgiving, and you’ve brought the tradition to your new household. javi tells you that your excitement for christmas overshadows thanksgiving, and maybe it does, but you really don’t care. not when christmas is ten times more cozy and festive than thanksgiving could ever dream of being. 

this year, you rise early on the appointed day and wake javi with a firm shake to the shoulder. he groans, rolls over to his stomach, and slips his head beneath a pillow.

“too early,” he mutters.

you exit the ensuite bathroom, rubbing your lotioned palms together as you prepare for a long day of unwrapping dusty boxes and fragile decorations. with a grin, you tap javi’s foot beneath the bedcovers. “get up before i sic the kids on you.”

he mumbles something under his breath, but the weight of the pillow muffles his words, so you leave him to his sulking. he’s never been a morning person, not in all the years you’ve known him. in a few minutes he’ll be up; you just have to give him time.

you find your son, tomás, awake and raring to go. six and a half years old and responsible as ever, it is his greatest joy in life to make his father proud. and though javier is a man of few emotional words, there’s a soft spot in his heart for both his children. today marks the first year tomás is old enough and capable enough to help his father with the outdoor decorations, and he’s already halfway dressed, his small feet shoved in tiny boots and his unruly hair snug beneath a baseball cap.

leaning against the doorframe, you watch as tomás struggles to get his arms through the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “you’re up bright and early,” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“wanna”—he bites his lip in concentration—“wanna help daddy today.” he drops his head with a heavy sigh. one elbow in particular remains stuck in the sleeve of his shirt, caught at a ninety degree angle.

you cross the bedroom to kneel in front of him and gently tug on his shirtsleeve. the arm once stuck at an uncomfortable angle flops to his side, and you smooth your hands over his narrow shoulders. “i’m sure you’ll be a big help, tommy. you just have to promise to do as daddy says.”

“yeah, i promise.”

with a squeeze to his arm, you cock your head to the open bedroom door. “go run downstairs and pour yourself some cereal while i get your sister up. daddy will be down soon.”

boots heavy around his ankles, tomás dutifully makes his way to the kitchen, his steps slow as he descends the steep stairs. his shoes clomp on the hardwood, and you hesitate, waiting to hear the cabinet doors open and shut, before moving to wake your daughter. you know by now that, though tomás thinks himself a fully grown boy, his legs often move faster than his brain, and you’ve had one too many tumbles down the staircase to show for it. the last thing you need today is a split forehead or bonked chin. 

like her brother, julieta is awake when you enter her dimly lit nursery. she gives you a gummy smile when you reach down to lift her from the small mattress, and she gurgles happily as you change her diaper and dress her for the day. her arms flap against her sides in joy as you enter your bedroom and place her on your bed. with practiced effort, julieta crawls her way up the bed and presses her tiny fists against javi’s shoulders. 

“come on, javier,” you say, pulling the covers away from your husband’s body. he groans in response, head still tucked beneath his pillow. “tommy’s already downstairs waiting for you.”

with a huff, javi turns to his back, drawing julieta with him, one broad hand splayed across her entire back. “getting up this early the day after thanksgiving is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“no—you’re just dramatic.”

“i think i ate too much pie yesterday.” he sits up with a frown. “i’m gonna have a beer gut like my uncle before you know it.”

“maybe, but i reckon you’ll still look cute.” you grab his wrist and tug him out of bed. he keeps julieta firm against his chest as he moves. “you know i don’t like to waste time, so please move that cute ass of yours downstairs. it’s past eight-thirty already.”

javi tosses a surprised look over his shoulder as you shove him out of the room, plaid pajama pants and all. “you think i have a cute ass?”

“shut up,” you grumble. 

tomás sits at the kitchen table, bowl of cereal on his plastic placemat. he grins when javi enters the room, and a line of milk dribbles down his chin, which you are quick to wipe away with a stray napkin.

“hi, daddy.” rising to his knees, tomás swivels in his seat and braces his hands on the back of the chair. he watches as javi deposits julieta in her high-chair then sets about making his morning pot of coffee. “we’re gonna put the lights up outside today?”

without turning away from the coffee maker, javi nods. “yeah, champ. but, you know, i was thinking.” his eyes slide to yours as he shuts the coffee maker’s lid and flips the on button. “what if we did something... different this year?”

you still. julieta makes grabby fingers for the half of the banana that still hasn’t been sliced for her, and she kicks her legs against the high-chair. “different?” you narrow your eyes. “different how?”

“oh, i dunno.” javi leans back against the stove and crosses his arms over his chest. he has all the air of nonchalance, but you know this is a calculated attack. if you know anything about your husband, it’s that once he gets an idea in his head, he’ll work his way forwards and backwards to bring it to fruition. “just different.”

“so no lights?”

javi shakes his head in reassurance for both you and your son. “no, tommy, we’ll still have lights. just different lights.” for the crescendo of his argument, javi crosses the kitchen and crouches beside your chair. he squeezes your thigh, his brown eyes soft and pleading. “come on, mi vida, let’s spice it up a little bit. i’ve got it all worked out, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

you toss your head back on a laugh. “oh, i’m sure i won’t!”

“trust me, baby,” he whispers, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, and, for a moment, focusing more on the patterns of your face than his end goal. 

you feel your resolve soften. how can it not? javi is decidedly undomestic, even with a wife and two kids. oh, he loves you; he adores his children. but it’s been a long time coming to get to this moment—him on his knees with his own holiday decoration plans. you’d be a fool to turn him down.

you shut your eyes and give him a nod. “okay, fine. i trust you.”

javi pops to his feet with a loud clap and equally as loud, “alright!” he points to tomás. “finish your cereal, kid, ‘cause we got work to do.” 

dropping a kiss to the top of your head, he makes for the stairs. his socked feet slide on the linoleum, which causes to tomás to laugh in amusement, but you’re too stunned by javi’s sudden change of mood that you can’t help but feel like you’ve been duped. 

spice up christmas decorations? you can only pray that whatever he has in store won’t get you a stern letter from the homeowner’s association. 

***

before beginning his mysterious outdoor decorating project, javi pulls all the boxes labeled christmas down from the attic. he helps you assemble the artificial tree in the corner of the living room, and he, though with a good measure of grumbling, adjusts and readjusts the garland draping the front door. 

but as soon as you give him the go ahead, he pushes you inside, makes you promise not to peek until he’s finished, and, like schoolboys up to no good, hurries away with tomás.

as the door slams in your face, effectively cutting you out of the fun, you glance at your daughter and roll your eyes. “men,” you say, and she coos in agreement.

it’s easy to get lost in your work for the remainder of the afternoon. there’s tens of ornaments to put on the tree and the little village to set up along the front windowsill. julieta follows as you move throughout the house. she crawls, or scoots on her bum, or rolls behind in her baby walker. she’s primarily a happy baby, and after tomás and his terrible twos, you’re thankful for a reprieve from the incessant crying and surly attitude. 

christmas tune after christmas tune drifts from the record player in the foyer, and you bump along to the music, finding the work of unpacking boxes and artfully arranging decorations is not so much work with a good playlist and a giggly baby on your hip.

after pausing for lunch, you resume with the finishing touches. the house looks cozy, you have to admit. the tree sparkles in its corner, and the quaint ceramic village display on the windowsill reminds you spending the holidays with your grandmother as a child. there’s miniature, stuffed snowmen in the kitchen that tomás made in school and papier-mâché carolers that javi’s aunt crafted in the hall. an advent calendar hangs from the back of the closet door, and a spring of faux mistletoe dangles over the dining room doorway.

you’re proud of your work, but more than that, you’re proud of the life you’ve made alongside your husband. when he’d proposed all those years ago (a dreadfully unromantic proposal of a ring simply slid across the table at a restaurant), he’d promised life with him wouldn’t be easy. he hadn’t been lying. still, you’ve made it this far, and you wouldn’t go back on your vows for the world.

it does surprise you that you haven’t heard a peep out of the boys for most of the day. tomás hasn’t so much as run inside to use the bathroom or grab a drink of water. either javi’s spicy christmas decorations were more labor-intensive than he’d originally planned, or he’d jaunted off to his father’s house to escape the responsibility, taking tomás with him. you can’t decide which possibility you’d prefer.

before you can pick up the phone to call your father-in-law, the garage door opens. javi sticks his head into the hallway, a wide grin on his face when he sees you.

“okay, we’re ready.”

you put a hand on your hip. “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure.” he steps inside long enough to lift julieta from her place in the bouncy walker. he sets her on his shoulders, and she squeals as she grabs fistfuls of his hair. “i thought you trusted me?”

you place the phone on the receiver and grab your jacket. “don’t throw my words back at me, javier.”

he taps your ass when you brush past him into the garage. “you’ll love it,” he says. “but you have to close your eyes.”

“really? just how different are these decorations?”

“oh, it’s like nothin’ you’ve seen before, hermosa. now shut your eyes!” with an exaggerated sigh, you close your eyes. javi squeezes your shoulder, and you start to walk forward into the driveway. “tomás, keep a watch on your mother. make sure she doesn’t peek.”

javi maneuvers you until you feel the driveway beneath your feet give way to soft grass. he places julieta in your arms then squeezes both of your shoulders. you can feel the excitement in his fingers, feel it in the way he practically bounces with anticipation behind you. you have entirely no idea of what to expect, but if putting up christmas decorations has made javi this excited, no matter what the decor is, you’ll let him do it every year.

“ready, tommy?”

“ready!”

javi presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his arm winding around your stomach to pull you back against his chest. he is firm behind you, the solid foundation on which your family stands. “ready, mi vida?” his voice is low, and even after all this time, it still sends a shiver down your spine.

in lieu of answering aloud, you simply nod.

“okay. tomás, in three... two... one.” he squeezes your hip. “open your eyes.”

the air in your chest leaves in a giant whoosh as you take in his decorations.

“oh my god, javier,” is all you can say as you stare in dumb-founded shock.

javier laughs—a real, hearty laugh—as he watches your face. “isn’t it great?!”

it—it being a wooden cutout painted to look like dr. seuss’s the grinch.

it being that cutout pulling down a strand of illuminated colored lights from the gutter. 

it being the most half-hearted christmas decorations you’ve ever seen. 

“where on earth did you get that?”

“eddie from two streets away. i saw it in his yard and knew i had to have one, so he got another from his guy and gave it to me.” he shakes his head as he looks on in pride. “best forty bucks i ever spent. it’s been in the back of my truck for weeks!” 

“you are so lucky that i love you, javier.”

he laughs again, squeezing you tighter against his chest. “hey! i put lights on the bushes for you. that’s gotta count for something?”

dropping your head against his shoulder, you nod. “it does. and the more i look at the grinch, the funnier it is.” you hold up a finger. “but i’m not laughing yet.” 

you glance at your neighbor’s house, at the cookie-cuter lights lining the frame of their two-story, at the mechanical reindeer bobbing their heads up and down. you look back at your... grinch, at his twisted smile and tip-toed stance and the sad string of lights wound from his hand to the gutter. you snort in amusement.

“i’ve got to hand it to you—this is the most javier peña thing you’ve ever done. i’m almost proud.”

“i knew you’d love it.”

turning in his arms, you shake your head. “no, i just love you.” 

javi smiles and lowers his head to kiss you softly. it’s his way of returning the sentiment, and you preen under his affection.

but then you pull away with a frown. “wait a minute.” laying a finger against his chest, you tilt your head toward tomás. “where have you been all day? this set-up couldn’t have taken more than half an hour.”

javi cringes and glances at his son. he rubs a hand across the back of his beck. “yeah, about that...”

tomás appears from his place plugging in the outdoor extension chords. “daddy took me to the shooting range!”

gaping, you sputter to form a coherent sentence. “you what?!”

“tomás,” javi whispers, swiping his palm over his son’s hair. “you weren’t supposed to say anything.” he looks up through his lashes with a wry smile. “we did—yeah, we did go to the range for a bit.”

“oh, javier peña, you are so lucky i love you.”

javi grins, captures your chin between his fingers, and kisses you again. “yeah, i am.”

***

taglist: @insideafictionaluniverse​ @ladytrashbird​ @generaldamneron​

[blissfulsun]

based on this & this lovely request❣️✨

word count: 1,926

What are we? // Jeff Wittek

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. A little green monster that grips at you and lodges in your throat. 

Jeff hates the feeling, despises its cause as he watches you laugh at something David whispers to you in the crowded room, swapping secrets and elbowing each other back and forth without a single care for anyone else around. 

He knows he has no right to be angry with anyone other than himself, you’re just friends, nothing more nothing less, just as Dave is one of his closest friends too. 

It doesn’t make the ridiculous possessiveness rumbling in his chest any less apparent, especially when he remembers what got him here in the first place. 

The memory of your vulnerable expression still a permanent feature in his mind, how your posture slightly deflated when he finally answered the pained question you’ve been holding to yourself for so long. What are we? 

How you left his apartment in a hurry when Jeff finally stopped staring at you with a helpless look in his eyes, coughing awkwardly before he finally gathered his bearing enough to ramble on in a stuttered speech that more or less could be shortened to ‘I’m not ready for anything serious’ 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, easy to spot towering over other people and with numerous beautiful women within his vicinity. 

Jeff’s always the centre of attention in every room, you’d know, it’s how you met him all those years back, in his Miami days, before your paths crossed again here, in LA a couple of months back. 

Your mind flashes back to that fateful night last week when he looks in your direction and you make eye contact that lasts for less than a second before your gaze returns to the friend as your side. 

There was so much more you wanted to say, to ask. What are we? 

He holds your hand and cuddles you in your bed or his couch wraps his arm around your waist from behind when a stranger starts a conversation with you or loops his fingers through your jeans as your group of friends enters every party, scanning the crowd and frowning at the numerous sets of eyes that follow your every step. 

But he won’t kiss you. Never lets words of exposed affection slip past his lips unless it's late at night and he thinks you’ve already fallen asleep with your head on his chest or in the crook of your neck. 

The night carries on, the party goes on in hours of drinking and endless fun as you stick to David’s side. 

He’s one of the first people in the group you made friends with, felt close to immediately just from the warm presence he exudes, your childlike tendencies reflecting each other’s youthful side. 

You remain completely oblivious to the tear in Jeff’s armour, growing bigger with every booming laugh and smile swapped between you and the messy-haired brunet, arms looped together as you follow each other around. Jeff doesn’t speak to you at all that night. 

The quiet prevailing even as only you two, David and Natalie remain in the car, the pretty assistant snoring quietly in the back of the Tesla. 

You’re sat in the front seat, music playing quietly from the stereo Dave’s turned on once he’s realised no one is willing to break the silence that’s coated the car when Zane’s stumbled out with a last drunken goodbye kiss to your cheek through the open window. 

You’ve only had a couple of drinks yourself, stomach heavy with something harder to swallow than any alcohol. 

David senses your unease, eyes flickering between your zoned out expression and Jeff’s stone cold one in the backseat before he picks up a conversation, words gentle as he asks you about something or other to keep your mind occupied.

It works. Well enough to have you laughing with your head thrown back just as he stops outside of your apartment building. 

You don’t worry about waking Nat up, well aware the girl is dead to the world with the number of shots she took with your friends earlier in the night. 

Your eyes soften, head leaning against the headrest of your seat as you sigh once the laughter shaking your chest calms down. 

You don’t even think about it as it happens, hand reaching out in your slightly tipsy state to grasp David’s own on the steering wheel to squeeze affectionately in a silent thanks. 

He understands what it is you’re thankful for without words. Nodding as he says his goodbye. 

Jeff watches it all happen, ear attuned to every happy sound that ever leaves your mouth. 

Sad eyes following your every move out of habit, the weight in his chest crushingly heavy as your small hand wraps around someone else's. 

His ears perk up as Dave shouts an ‘I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight!’ To which you nod and shut the car door behind you. 

It hurts almost as bad as the realisation that you didn’t say goodbye to him. 

The hope that disillusioned him into thinking this would be like any other night, that you’d turn around in your seat, or better yet, in his lap, where you usually sit in the car and ask him to stay the night, dwindling in his chest as David starts the Tesla back up and turns the corner on your street, your building disappearing out of sight while you remained deeply ingrained in his mind. 

Jeff hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol. Never usually drinks anyway, but even more so ever since you’ve started hanging out with them, forgetting about having a beer or two in favour of remaining sober in order to look out for you or after you at the end of the night as you giggle against his chest and demand him to cuddle you every single time without a fail. It’s a pattern he’s grown to love. 

Almost as much as he loves the girl that he thinks is going on a date with one of his best friends in a couple of hours. 

David doesn’t get to ask him what’s been up with him, with both of you, all night, or even for the past couple of days as he keeps his eyes closed and head leaning against the cold window, pretending to be asleep until he feels the car park. 

‘Thanks’ Jeff’s goodbye is short, hand falling atop of his friend’s shoulder before the door shuts behind him and he stalks away to the entrance of his building. 

David watches on, head shaking in exasperation at just how stubborn two people can be before he drives off home. 

Falling asleep isn’t an easy fit for Jeff that night. Body twisting and turning under his sheets even as two turns to three in the morning before he finally decided he’s had enough. 

The knocking wakes you from your light slumber, stumbling out of bed and to the door where you first check the peephole before opening the door to find Jeff on the other side. 

He looks frantic, eyes a little red and movements frantic as he storms past your sleepy self, your hair a mess and one of his t-shirts adorning your body. 

You yawn, closing the door behind the man before you turn to look at him walking up and down the length of your hallway. 

It’s quiet still, the only sound being his heavy steps before Jeff stops, turns on the spot to face you again and say: 

‘I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?! I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out how you can go from spending every night at mine to suddenly going out with someone else - one of my best friends! Just like that. It’s not fair y/n! You can’t just -’ 

He pauses in his speech, words lulled at the sight of your eyebrow raised in a challenge before his shoulders drop in defeat. 

‘He’s not good enough for you’ Jeff finally resonates. 

You can’t help but let the delusional giggle slip past your mouth, brain still lagging with sleep as you chortle and reply, ‘He’s your friend!’ in exasperation. 

‘I’m not good enough for you either.’ His reply makes you pause, laughter dying in your throat. 

You watch Jeff groan, hands safely tucked in the pockets of his sweats as he shrugs. 

‘What I mean is...no one is, good enough for you, alright?’ While you’re lost in your own thoughts spiralling from his words and endlessly mixed signals, Jeff uses the opportunity to close the distance between you, hands leaving his pockets to wrap around your waist gently and pull you closer, missing having you next to him like this. 

‘Last week...’ Jeff clears his throat when you look up at him, pretty features defiant but eyes curious. 

‘When I said I didn’t want anything serious, any labels...’ he stammers. 

The reminder that someone, anyone, could swoop in and see you for what you are: the best girl, his girl, and take you away, just like that, is enough to light a fire. 

‘What I meant was, I’m scared of being serious, of us, this’ his confession aided by the tightening of his fingers around your frame. 

‘Of what we already are without ever saying it out loud before. Doll, you mean everything to me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that when you asked me to clear it up. I know you’ve been patient with me and you have this date with David tomo-’ You interrupt him with a kiss. 

A simple peck that’s intended to shut him up for a second. 

It’s effective, rendering the man speechless long enough to allow you to clarify. ‘I love you. I’m not going on a date with Dave, or anyone, if it isn’t you.’ 

The look of confusion that passes Jeff’s face is adorable enough for you to reach up on your tiptoes and lay another sweet kiss on his mouth, one he eagerly reciprocates, one hand flying to rest in the nape of your neck while he pulls you closer against his chest. 

Jeff pulls away eventually, breath heavy and eyes closed as he lays his forehead against your own. 

‘What about? I thought you two - tonight?’ You giggle again, his heart doing somersaults against his ribcage at the sweet sound, one he’s missed so dearly, especially when he hasn’t been the cause of it for the last seven days. 

‘We’re going to set up a prank at Jason’s house with Ilya while he’s out’ you explain. 

Jeff lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping and body relaxing at your words before his eyes open and arms wrap around you to pick you up. 

You squeal in surprise, hands flying to wrap around his neck as he walks to your bedroom. 

‘Let’s get you to bed baby, I know how sleepy you get when you drink & I wanna take my girl out for breakfast today’ You yawn, only confirming his observation.

‘Like a date?’ you can’t help but tease, watching him take his sweats off and crawl under the covers on his side of the bed, arm reaching out for you before he pulls you into him and wraps it around your waist. 

‘Like a date’ Jeff confirms, words whispered into your hairline but you hear the smile that’s there as you begin to drift off. 

‘I love you so much baby’ he adds. You both fall asleep with smiles on your lips.

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Never Too Far

David Bowie x Fem! Reader

Category: Fluff, angst

Warnings: Just slight angst

Word Count: 5.9K

A/N: Hope you enjoy this little piece fueled by excitement and love for Bowie, I swear I proof read a couple of times but if anything went over my head, I apologize in advance for it. Enjoy! xox

Originally Posted by @fleeting-queen-of-pepperland

__________________

Music blared through the speakers, invading every inch of the house, making Y/n's chest rumble. Her hand tightly gripping her brother's as they made their way across the large living room towards the kitchen. 

"Are you sure they're in there?" Y/n asked, stretching her neck and brushing a couple strands of hair behind her ears to take a better look at the sea of faces surrounding them. John answered with a meek nod followed by an unsure shrug. 

"Roger said he'd be here, Brian already left with someone and god knows where Freddie is," he answered, slightly annoyed at his band mates for ditching him and his sister. They had been the ones to talk him into letting Y/n go with them to the party. 

"But it's at Mick's" John had protested "I don't want my sister on her own at one of his parties."

"Come on, Deacy!" Roger had insisted. "She's what, five minutes younger than you?" 

"Three." Y/n corrected, palms sweating as she tapped her fingers against her knees anxiously. "Please, John. You might've gotten used to being around these people by now, but this would mean so much to me!" 

John pursed his lips thoughtfully and stared at Y/n, who looked at him pleadingly, mouthing another "please", holding her hands together in front of her lips. 

"Alright," he receded, throwing his arms up in defeat "But don't wander off and if you even look at anything other than a joint, we're out. Understood?" 

Y/n nodded and hugged her brother gleefully, planting a kiss on his cheek, thanking him profusely. 

"Oh, don't worry, darling" Freddie said, patting John's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll look out of her from time to time, she'll be fine," 

Of course, they didn't, ergo John's annoyed expression. 

Once they walked into the kitchen, Roger was indeed in there, rummaging one of the cupboards while drunkenly whispering to himself. 

"For fuck's sake Jagger, you have all but the Queen's knickers in here but not some damn licorice?" 

"Rog?" John called from behind the drummer, who tripped on the chair he was standing on and barely managed to hold himself up by gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. He stared at the twins and smiled widely, a half-eaten chocolate bar hanging from his free hand. 

"Deacy! Y/n!" he exclaimed and carefully stepped down, "How's the party? Are you having a good time, love?" 

Roger didn't wait for a reply before taking another bite out of his chocolate bar, shaking his head while looking at Y/n. 

"Of course you aren't, how can you be remotely having fun with your dear chaperone breathing down your neck, you poor, poor thing. " 

Roger threw an arm around Y/n's shoulders and pulled her head down to his chest, running his hand down her hair in a comforting manner. 

Despite wanting to protest, Y/n knew he was right. She loved her brother to pieces, but he did have a hard time assimilating that fact that she was not a little girl anymore, and she wanted to live a lot more than he probably would be comfortable with. 

Unfortunately, she had never been confrontational enough to openly tell John to back off. If anything, she would sneak away or find any other passive way to get rid of her occasionally overbearing twin. 

Mostly, it was a lucky twist of fate that saved her from this kind of situation, and this wasn't the exception. 

That night it came in the shape of Freddie barging in through the kitchen door. 

"Brian just got in a fight!" he announced. 

"What? I thought he was leaving with that brunette!" John exclaimed, looking puzzled. Freddie laughed almost maniacally and nodded. 

"Oh, he tried to leave with her alright. But turns out she came here with Townshend and he's having none of it, and apparently dear Bri isn't either."

"I've got to see that, where are they?" Roger asked, bolting through the door. 

"Upstairs, in the hallway!" the singer replied as he quickly followed, still laughing gleefully. 

"Damn," John muttered, seeing them go before turning to his sister. "Stay here, I'll go and see if I'm sober enough to save their drunk asses" 

Y/n nodded eagerly, obviously not intending to obey his order and already wondering what part of the house she'd venture to first once John was out of the equation. Probably not the hallway upstairs. Just as a precaution, Y/n waited for a couple of minutes after her twin disappeared behind the kitchen door. As she scanned her surroundings, her eyes landed on the fridge before her. 

"Oh, what the hell." she whispered to herself as she swung the door open and grabbed a bottle of beer. Y/n hummed while she carefully pressed the lid against the edge of the counter and, with a sudden upwards movement, opened the bottle. A handy trick she had learned from Roger. 

Since everything seemed clear, she reached her hand out to grab the door knob before it suddenly twisted and someone flung the door open, covertly sliding inside the kitchen and closing the door after him. 

Instinctively thinking it was her brother, Y/n retreated to her original position, as if she never intended to leave the room. 

But the figure before her wasn't John. 

He was barely shorter, and slimmer. His skin was porcelain smooth, strands of his scruffy yellow hair fell over his forehead. With a quick head movement the man flipped them out of his face, uncovering his eyes. 

It wasn't until he turned around that she could see them properly, but he almost jumped backwards, startled by the figure quietly standing on the other side of the room that had gone unnoticed by him. 

"Bloody hell," he blurted out before taking a deep breath and leaning against the wall besides the door. "Sorry, I could've sworn I was alone," 

"No, no, it's okay." Y/n assured him with a soft chuckle. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I shouldn't have just stood here, in a dark corner, looking so creepy," 

"Well," he replied with a smirk "Can't be worse than a pale, scrawny weird-eyed lad, can it?" 

She nodded with an amused smile and shrugged. 

"Touche. I honestly thought for a moment I had too much to drink and was seeing a ghost, but then I realized…" Y/n lifted the untouched bottle of beer she was holding. "... I'm completely sober."

"Love, you don't want that." the man made his way towards her with a couple of strides and snatched the bottle from her hands. 

"I have already been here several times," he whispered, leaning closer to her as if he was revealing a big secret, even if they were alone in the kitchen. "I know where to find something more… suitable for such a pretty lady, follow me."

He took her hand, practically engulfing it in his slender and delicate fingers. He led her out of the kitchen, not letting go as he made his way across the crowd that had gathered in the living room, going as far as the top of the stairs. However, Y/n realized he was being careful as to not drag her too roughly through the innumerable bodies. 

Finally, he turned around a corner and slid through a small door, behind which a small staircase descended into a pitch black corridor. 

"I'm David," he said as he continued to walk down the stairs. Even in the darkness, Y/n could see his wide, mischievous smile when he looked back at her. 

"Y/n," she replied smiling back, although she doubted he had noticed since her eyes were anxiously fixed on the steps. 

"Here," he said gently, almost reading her mind, as he took her hand and placed it on his arm. "This stair is a little bit steep, you might want to hold onto me." 

Y/n nodded with a soft "thank you" before they continued their descent. 

Finally, they reached an underground room. David reached out his hand and began feeling the wall next to the entrance until he found the light switch. 

When he turned on the lights, Y/n could see three rows of large barrels and another of wooden racks, full of wine bottles of different kinds. Finally, a small metallic table stood in the center of the room, a silver tray with four glasses resting atop. 

"See?" David said, rubbing his hands together as he made his way towards the racks. He knelt before one and moved his fingers tentatively around the bottles while he chose one. Finally, he gripped the neck of a bottle with a beautifully painted label depicting an abstract bouquet of posies on a white background. 

"Are you sure Mick will be okay with this?"

Y/n asked, snickering nervously as she approached the table. David nodded without a single trace of worry and carefully pulled the cork off. 

"Come on, he won’t miss one sad little bottle, he’s got plenty,” he assured and carefully poured the two glasses, handing one to Y/n. 

“Well, cheers to that,” Y/n said, lifting her glass with a soft laugh. He reciprocated the toast and took a small sip of his glass, staring at Y/n thoughtfully with pursed lips as she took another sip. 

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he said with an amused grin. Y/n felt her face burn as she bit the inside of her cheek, pondering on whether the words in her brain should leave her mouth. However, thanks to that odd instant connection established between the two of them, David seemed to peek into her mind once again. 

“You do know who I am, don’t you?” he asked. 

“I do!” Y/n gave in, clamping her hand over her forehead and shaking her head, “Of course I do, I’ve been actively trying to get a hold of myself for the last ten minutes, I figured it would be awful to come up to someone wanting a normal conversation and instead end up with another starstruck fan babbling about how much they love your music and how you’re amazing, blah, blah, blah.” 

Y/n looked up at David, who was just staring back with a surprised expression and obviously trying to refrain himself from bursting out laughing. However, before she could panic any further, he grabbed the bottle and leaned forward. 

“I believe the most responsible thing to do would be to cut you off,” However, he did exactly the opposite and tilted the bottle to refill Y/n’s glass. “But if this is what it takes to keep you talking, I’d let you wipe out Mick’s entire cellar, dear.” 

Y/n let out a relieved laughter, feeling more tranquil now that she had gotten that off her chest and didn’t scare poor David away. Said calmness increased when he began laughing as well. It was an honest and hearty laugh that made both of them forget the entire party above them, even after the laughter stopped and they sat in a comfortable silence, sipping on their glasses contentedly. 

“Coltrane,” David said after a short while. Y/n hummed questioningly and furrowed her eyebrows. 

“John Coltrane,” the musician repeated, “do you know him?” 

“I absolutely love John Coltrane,” Y/n replied, emphasizing every word, “I have spent years collecting every album of his, and now I’m only missing A Love Supreme,” 

“That I can help with,” David replied with a flirty smile. Y/n now positively blushed, which he noticed despite her attempt to hide it behind the glass as she raised it to her lips. 

“Smooth,” She quipped. “Alright, Chet Baker?” 

“Love him. I’d hate to boast, but I own a gigantic collection of jazz records. Coltrane, Davis, Baker, you name it. Perhaps you’d like to visit me sometime and I could show them to you?” 

Y/n nearly choked on her wine. However, she realized that the longer she kept talking to the world-famous rockstar, the less she perceived him as such, now rather seeing him as a fellow jazz connoisseur who happened to be undeniably charming. 

Suddenly, their pleasant chatter was interrupted by an odd sound. It was so out of place that it took Y/n a couple minutes to put her finger on what it was, until she realized it was a doorbell. More specifically, the one they had at her building. How the hell could the doorbell of her flat be ringing in Mick Jagger’s cellar, and too loudly to be at the main door? 

As Y/n turned to face David, she blinked confused when her eyes met nothing but an empty space next to the table. Before she could think or say anything else, the doorbell began ringing once again in an annoyingly persistent fashion.

Y/n opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. She felt a dull ache in her chest and sighed deeply, hoisting herself up and rubbing her eyes groggily. Y/n swung her legs over the edge of her bed and looked down when her toes collided with something cold and smooth. She picked up a small, square object that laid beside her bed, recognizing it as an object she should’ve never taken out of the box in the attic to which it had been confined for months. 

It was a framed picture of David and her together. He was hugging her by the neck and planting a kiss on her temple. The Y/n of the picture smiled gleefully, her hands placed atop the musician’s. 

Y/n huffed and placed the picture inside a drawer next to her bed as the phone downstairs began ringing. She hurried down the stairs and plucked the annoying artifact from its base. 

“Yes?” she answered. The familiar voice of her brother sounded on the other side, especially cheerful. 

“Happy birthday!” he greeted, “Where are you? Are you at home? I’ve been ringing on your doorbell for ages!”

“Birthday?” she answered, furrowing her eyebrows. “Oh, right. Our birthday. I’m sorry, John. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

She rushed to the mirror in her bathroom and stared at her face, didn’t liking at all what she saw. Her eyes and cheeks were noticeably red and puffy, and the last thing she needed was a concerned twin that tended to ask too many questions regarding her well-being. 

Y/n hastily threw some cold water on her face and patted her hair to make it look somewhat neat before hurrying downstairs and opening the door to find John standing before her. By the way the edges of his lips sunk when he laid eyes on her, she knew her efforts to look perfectly fine had been futile. Stupid twin intuition, she thought, stepping aside to let him in. They walked upstairs in silence and, right after she closed the door after him, John spoke. 

“Do you want to t–?” 

“I had a dream about him again,” Y/n snapped, folding her arms and sitting on the sofa. John thought that in that position she accurately resembled a pouting child. 

“Y/n…” John cooed sitting next to her, his arm placed comfortingly over her shoulders “Listen, I came to invite you to the studio. Me and the boys are recording a new song today, and I know how much you love to hear us play, and since it’s our birthday we could get lunch after...but if you don’t feel like going, I could ring them, tell them something came up, then we could go to Brixton and get some of those Cuban sweets you like so much…”

“Jamaican,” Y/n interjected with a soft smile, which her brother returned. 

“Jamaican sweets, then. How does that sound?” 

Y/n looked around the flat. That day it felt particularly small and stuffy, and no matter how much she wanted to stay in and spend the day in bed, she knew there was nothing that could lift her spirits more than sunlight, good music and the three boys she loved most in the whole world. 

Suddenly, the sound of a car honk blared through the window, followed by the unmistakable voice of Roger. 

“Come on, Deacons! Are you coming, or what?” 

Y/n giggled and shook her head before staring up at her twin.

“I thought you said you could ring them to reschedule,” 

“I might have decided to forget they were downstairs waiting in the car in favor of your well-being,”  

“Then I guess it would be extremely rude to keep them waiting, wouldn’t it?” 

Y/n said, keeping an exaggeratedly serious attitude. 

“Oh, absolutely. How shalt thou proceed?”  

He replied, making a funny nasal voice to accompany his parodic posh accent. Y/n laughed and threw her arms in the air as she walked back into her bedroom. 

“Alright, alright, you win. I’ll be ready in a bit.”

Y/n hummed as she wandered around the recording studio, carrying the notebook with the notes of the new song John was writing for the album. She flipped through the pages, admiring her brother’s messy handwriting, so typical of him when he was in a hurry. 

She loved the recording studio, and deeply appreciated the band’s willingness to let her tag along whenever she wanted. If it was up to her, Y/n would spend every single day with them at the studio, but she knew they needed space as a band and a Masters took up much more of her time than she expected. 

Thus, she was more than happy to sporadically join them and perform small tasks such as fetching things they had forgotten in the car, like the notebook she was holding in her hands. 

Reaching the door of the room in which they were recording, she grabbed the handle and walked in, her eyes still fixed on the pages. 

“John, here’s your notebook,” she announced, lifting her glance, “I’m serious, if your head wasn’t attached to your neck…”

Y/n froze in place, a cold shiver slowly sliding down her spine as her eyes fell upon the figure that sat on a chair, staring at the boys who were already inside the booth, discussing something among them. She slowly placed the notebook atop one of the speakers and silently walked backwards to avoid drawing attention to her, but it was too late. 

David’s blue eyes wandered to the side until they collided with Y/n’s, freezing him in place as well. Feeling her throat dry up, she couldn’t think of anything better to do other than making her escape through the doors and going back to the hallway, where she stared blankly at the wall before her as she tried to collect her thoughts. 

What the bloody hell is he doing here? she thought, fighting the urge to peek back inside to make sure he hadn’t followed her. 

It wasn’t necessary. Shortly after, Y/n heard steps headed towards the door. Without making sure it was even David, she quickly began walking down the hallway, trying to remember whether it led to the exit at all.

She felt cornered when she reached a dead end, seeing nothing but doors leading to empty studios around her, and the steps kept getting closer. For a short instant she considered the possibility of hiding inside one of the studios, but they were probably locked and it sounded much too childish anyway. 

She couldn’t keep running anymore. 

“Y/n?” The voice behind her spoke, making her stomach feel as if it was riding a roller coaster. She faked a composed smile and turned to face David as he approached her with slow, hesitant steps. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” 

“Hi,” she coolly greeted, “Yeah, I...I didn’t expect you to be here either. What are you doing here?” 

“I’ve been looking for you for months,” he interjected, ignoring her question with a pang of annoyance in his voice. She lifted her eyebrows with faux surprise. 

“Really? Oh, I’ve been quite busy. That’s just how things are sometimes, right?” 

However, the recognition she expected to find in his eyes wasn’t there, as if the words she had intentionally chosen meant nothing to him. Unbeknownst to her, the same moment she had been replaying in her mind over and over for the past months was exactly what he had in mind right then, trying to make any sense of what she was trying to say. 

It hadn’t been a nice day from the very beginning. Rainy, windy and cold. Both of them actually enjoyed that kind of day, but this one felt different. 

It probably was the fact that David’s reply to Y/n’s “I love you” before she left their shared flat was “See you,” or that the night before he had insisted on her going to bed so he could stay up working on the songs for his album, promising he would join her when he was done only for Y/n to find him sleeping on the couch in the morning. 

When her classes were over for the day, she went straight to the phone booth outside her college and dialed his number cheerfully. When he picked up, he sounded tired and even slightly irritated. 

“Who is it?” he dryly spoke. Y/n frowned, a little confused and decidedly hurt. 

“Hi love, it’s me,” she replied, hoping his tone would change when he realized it was his girlfriend calling. However, that wasn’t the case. 

“Oh, hi. What is it?” David answered. 

“Nothing, it’s just...I wanted to let you know that my last class was canceled, so I’ll be coming home earlier, alright?” 

“Yeah, fine. I’ll see you here,” he replied. However, Y/n didn’t hang up. 

“Wait, I was thinking, maybe we could go out and have dinner together? They opened a new place downtown and it seems lovely.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” 

Y/n blinked, still confused. Had she done or said anything wrong? Why did he sound so bitter? 

“Is it not what you want?” She tentatively asked, still maintaining a happy disposition towards him despite his attitude. 

“No, it's fine. Listen Y/n, I’m a little busy at the moment, we’ll talk about it when you come home, okay? See you later,” 

“Yes, fine. I’ll see you later, I lo–”

But he had already hung up. She sighed and exited the booth, gloomily realizing that had been the second unanswered “I love you,” of the day, something that was becoming more and more frequent. 

When she arrived at their flat, Y/n slid the keys inside the lock and turned them as quietly as she could, slowly swinging the door open.

As she made her way through the flat, Y/n could hear David’s voice in the kitchen, somewhat muffled by the whistle of the kettle. 

“...I know, I know,” he spoke, sounding tired. A pause followed before he spoke again. 

“I just want one hour, Lou,” he snapped, “One bloody hour to work properly with no distractions and not having to worry about being an arse to her,” 

He must be at the phone, Y/n thought as she moved closer. 

Y/n stopped on her tracks and covertly stood next to the kitchen door. When David said “her” was he referring to his girlfriend? Was he considering her a distraction to his work? Of course she had noticed he was feeling a lot of stress from the new album, but didn’t think her efforts to relieve him of some of that pressure were unwanted. Perhaps she had unknowingly crossed some boundary? 

“I know she does, and I didn't mind it at first, but...I just can’t stand her sometimes, and I feel like shit about it. Maybe...I don’t know, lately I’ve been wondering whether it’s time to call things off. She’s doing her best, I know she is, but I refuse to put up with it anymore.” 

By that point, Y/n had to clamp her hand over her mouth to muffle the strangled sob that began to build up down her throat. She wished more than ever that her last class hadn’t been canceled, that she was far away from there, sitting before her desk without even suspecting that the love of her life was planning on getting rid of such a “distraction”. She was completely taken aback. The hurtful way in which he was referring to her, even cold-heartedly, didn’t sound like the David she had met and fallen in love with. She would have bet on her life he would never talk about her like that. 

“Yeah, it’s a pity, I did like her, you know? But now I hear her come in and I honestly want to jump out of the window,” Then David laughed. He dismissively talked about breaking things off with her and laughed about it. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Y/n’s heart as well. “Anyway, that’s the way things are sometimes. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Y/n didn’t intend to stay and listen for not even one more lousy minute. It took her two seconds to realize she didn’t have the strength to face him. Just standing in the flat, staring at the walls that had witnessed so many hours of their relationship made her sick. 

As silently as she had arrived, but with tears in her eyes and a sharp pain bolting relentlessly through her chest, Y/n slipped out the door and rushed down the street, unsure of where she would go next or what she would do. She only knew that she wanted to be as far away from David as she could.

But apparently, the universe had other plans. The man she had spent months avoiding was now standing before her, looking hurt and confused as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“I need to talk to you,” 

“I think it’s too late for that,” Y/n cut him off, “because I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Exactly,” David replied, “What happened? One day you went to college as always and never came back, you changed your phone number, nobody will tell me where you have been living, where did you go, and most importantly, you didn’t even tell me why you left in the first place.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows and blinked, feeling extremely confused. 

“Are you serious?” she asked, “I heard your phone call with Lou, David. I heard everything you said about me being a distraction, and how you couldn’t stand me anymore, and how you wanted to jump through the fucking window every time you heard me come home. And I tried to spare us the whole breakup speech by just leaving, but if you want to talk about it fine, let’s talk about it.” 

David just stood and stared at her, not even a trace of guilt dashed over his face, just utter confusion until his eyes went wide and his mouth broke into a relieved grin, his hand pressed against his forehead. 

“Oh my god,” he said and began chuckling nervously, “I can’t...oh god.”

“What’s so funny?” Y/n exclaimed, not deciding on whether she should feel hurt, insulted or just as perplexed as he did seconds before. 

“Y/n...that call was not about you at all.” 

“What?” 

“How could you have even conceived I’d say such things about you? I was talking about Miranda, the assistant I had been working with for two months,” 

Y/n just moved her mouth a couple of times as if she wanted to say something, but her mind was a complete blank, her brain struggling to order her thoughts and give them some logic, replaying the conversation in her mind. Since she did not speak, David took this as a sign to continue his explanation. 

“She was a fan of mine but I didn’t mind it at first, because it did not interfere with her job. But eventually she began flirting with me until it became unbelievably annoying and I decided to fire her, although I did feel pretty bad about it because she was a nice girl, I just couldn’t ignore it anymore.” 

“But…” Y/n murmured, still unsure. “They way you acted towards me before, like...like you didn’t want me around at all.” 

David’s eyes saddened at that statement, and the guilt that had been missing from his face suddenly appeared as he nodded. 

“That I did and it is completely my fault. The deadline for the album was around the corner, I was struggling with my writing, and I made the terrible mistake of taking all that frustration out on you, and you can’t imagine how sorry I am, darling. It didn’t dawn on me how unfair I was and how horrible you must have felt until I found myself alone in that flat and realized you weren’t coming back.”

David pressed his lips together and sighed deeply before slowly making his way towards her, lingeringly wrapping his hands around hers.  

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Y/n, is that I’ve terribly missed you. I was angry at you for leaving without an explanation, and so I didn’t even try to find you. By the time I realized I loved you too much to let my pride get the best of me, you were already gone. And if you let me, I promise I will fix that.” 

“David,” Y/n replied with a sigh, “I don’t know. I would love to believe all of that is true just like that...but somehow…” 

“You find it hard to trust me,” David finished for her. After all, he was still capable of reading her mind so easily. She bit her lip and nodded, tears threatening to fall from her eyes as she blinked. 

“I’ll need some time to think about it, okay?” she said, putting her hand against this cheek with a gentle smile before clearing her throat and making her way around him to head back to the studio. 

However, before she could take two steps, his voice stopped her. 

“A Love Supreme.” he stated, turning to face her, his face full of a new resolution. “The day we met you told me the only Coltrane album you were missing was A Love Supreme, and I didn’t forget, do you want to know why I never mentioned it again?” 

“David,” Y/n began to say, only to be immediately silenced by him.

“No, no, let me finish. I didn’t forget, and the only reason why I never gave it to you was because I didn’t want to give you just another album. I spent months looking for something way better than that, something that lived up to what you deserve. And one month before you left, I found it. It was an unopened record signed by Coltrane himself, and I was saving it for your birthday, for today, as fate would have it. And I never got rid of it, I still have it after all these months just in case…” his voice faltered, and Y/n could see how his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes she was still infatuated with no matter how strongly she tried to deny it, turned glassy, prompting David to clear his throat. “Just in case you ever came back. And I’m still waiting and if I don’t walk out of here with you today, I will keep waiting.”

Y/n stared at him, scanning every inch of his face, until her eyes stopped when they met his. Slowly, she made her way back towards him and, in a contrastingly sudden movement, cupped his cheeks in her hands and pulled his face towards her to press a soft kiss to his lips. Yet, it did not remain that way for long as David slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer almost desperately, his lips leaving hers to meet her cheeks, forehead, nose and finally her mouth once again. 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he said, his voice hoarse as a relieved but unsure smile tugged at the edge of his lips. 

Y/n could only nod as she smiled back at him, her thumb softly caressing his cheek. 

“I swear to god Bowie, if you ever treat me that way again, I will shove my foot so far up your–”

“I won’t, I promise,” he quickly assured, pecking her lips hastily, “Do you have any idea of how insufferable it was to live without somebody to bring me coffee while I worked?” 

Y/n punched his arm jokingly, but couldn’t hold back a gleeful snicker as they made their way back to the studio, their fingers almost instinctively intertwined, and the world significantly brighter than it was when they woke up.

Epilogue

“So…” Y/n heard a voice behind her as she helped put the instruments back in their cases. “...is everything sorted out?” 

She turned around to find her twin fondly smiling at her. 

“It is. Isn’t it great that he happened to be around the studio?” she said, noticing a sheet of paper lying on the floor besides one of the speakers. Y/n picked it up and began reading it when she noticed it was a draft of a song. 

“Under Pressure, with…” she lifted her head and stared at her brother, her eyes wide in realization. “You knew he’d be here. John Richard Deacon, did you deliberately ask me to come because you knew he’d be here?” 

John’s face was pale. He obviously didn’t intend Y/n to find out like that. He probably had in mind something more subtle, like casually mentioning it to her at lunch later that day, or back at her flat. 

“Look, I can explain,” he stuttered. “The first time you told me how everything happened, I couldn’t help but wonder why you didn’t even give the lad a chance to explain himself. Because you were right, I had to put up with your babbling about all the wonderful things he said to you for ages, and it did not sound like him. But you’re a very proud and stubborn person, Y/n. I love you, but you know it’s true. And I knew you wouldn’t do it without...well, some help. What can I say? I saw the chance and I took it.”

“Then why didn't you just give him my new address?” she inquired. 

“Because if despite everything you still wanted him to stay away, your address would remain a secret.”

“Johnny, you absolute genius!” Y/n exclaimed, throwing her arms around her twin brother's neck and hugging him tightly, “Thank you. For everything.” 

“Come on, what are twins for? Now, you go and have fun with him. It’s your birthday.” 

“But I don’t want you or the boys to feel as if I ditched you,” Y/n said, a worried look on her face. John chuckled and shook his head with a shrug.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” Freddie’s voice said from behind them as the singer walked by. “you have many, many birthdays left to spend with this bunch of old ladies, we can get lunch tomorrow. Now go.”

Y/n stared at him baffled, but before she could question anything, Brian looked at her, one of his eyebrows lifted. 

“Of course we all knew of Deacy’s plan. Roger just lost money on this.” 

“I didn’t lose shit!” Roger exclaimed, sulking out of the recording booth, “I said she would tell him to give her time to think about it, I never said she would reject him.” 

Y/n looked fondly at the boys and shook her head. They truly were incorrigible. After gifting them with one last excited smile, she ran outside to meet the man she did not wish to be parted from ever again. 

[wannabe-fic-writer]

WandaNat x Reader : Kiss The Chef

Summary: Food is the way to the heart! In this case at least.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,883

* * * * * * 

“I said minced, this is chopped.” You resist the urge to shout, instead choosing a mild anger.

The man frowns, eyes glancing at the garlic on the cutting board and back to you.

He clearly doesn’t know the difference.

A deep sigh wracks your body before you fan him aside, picking up the chef’s knife and a fresh garlic clove. Then mincing it yourself and making sure he sees the difference.

“Now you certainly don’t sound like someone who loves their job.” 

Setting the knife down, you wipe your hands off on your towel, and turn to your long time friend and pain in the ass, Mister Tony Stark. 

“Why are you in my kitchen Anthony?” You ask, passing him, and stopping at the sauce station to taste test.

Tony feigns hurt, hand over his heart,“ that is no way to greet a friend.” 

You simply look at him, a bored expression on your face. In short telling him to get on with it because you have a kitchen to run.

He nods,“ alright alright. I’m here to cash in that favor you owe me.” 

“Did you not do that already? Cause I’m pretty sure I catered your second wedding my friend.” You remind him.

Clicking his tongue, he tells you,“ you got paid. That was a job, this is a favor.” 

The urge to groan is high but you don’t. A deal is a deal.

“What is it?”

* * * * *

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you eye the large facility, before heading inside with a sigh.

Tony is waiting at the door for you with an all too familiar smug grin on his face. If you were the violent type you would’ve smacked it off. 

“Don’t look so proud.” You huff.

Chuckling, he throws his arm around your shoulder and begins the tour of his compound. He takes you around to the gym, shows you his lab, and the living quarters where your temporary room is, then finally shows you the way to the kitchen.

As you walk you memorize where you’re going, since this’ll be the route you take most often for the next month. 

Once inside, you survey the room with narrowed eyes, checking all of the equipment it’s fitted with. It’s all state of the art, which Tony brags about, and it’s not a problem but it does mean you’ll have to get acquainted with it all. 

Tony also informs you of F.R.I.D.A.Y his fully automated A.I. He let’s you know how it works, how to order fresh ingredients, and how to pull up recipes(mainly his favorite meals but also those of his teammates. 

“And the pièce de résistance.” He jokes, then grabbing a f/c fabric and shaking it out.

‘Kiss The Chef’ is written across the front of the apron in white and Tony happily places it around your neck, despite the blank expression on your face.

The man always finds your stoic and aloof personality amusing. Especially since, while cautious, he proves to be the exact opposite. Still you two are friends. 

You’re expecting Tony to leave. With it being well past six you decide to prepare dinner and the man knows you’d rather he not hover. But he does. 

Still you move through the kitchen with the same grace as you do your restaurant. 

With this being your first day as their chef, you want to make a good impression, so you fix a meal you’d perfected long before you’d become a professional chef. 

All the while you’d had to stop Tony from dipping into the food you made. Snapping at him more than once and slapping his hands away from the food. Until eventually you kicked him from the kitchen with a task to go get everyone. 

Using that time to set each plate on the table, with white wine as it’s a compliment to the pasta dish. Making sure they all look presentable and that the table looks nice but not cluttered, you go back into the kitchen to give them their space to eat.

You don’t even try to hide your proud grin when you hear their reactions to it. First their awe at the set up and then the silent chatter about how much they enjoy the meal. 

As you wait, you nibble on the leftover food and drink a beer. Until Tony comes in to bring you to meet everyone.

“Guys this is a friend of mine, Y/n. Y/n this is Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Natasha, Carol, and Rhodey.” You nod to everyone, eyes lingering on the brunette Wanda and the red head Natasha. 

They look familiar you just can’t place where you’d seen them, so you move past that.

“Y/n is the chef who prepared this meal. As a favor to me, she’s agreed to be our chef for the next month, hopefully by which we can have the position filled permanently.

Everyone nods at his information and the man you now know as Rhodey speaks up,“ well thank god for that. This was incredible. I’m assuming you have experience as a chef.”

Nodding you tell him,“ I’m head chef at a restaurant in Manhattan called-”

“Pezzo di Paradiso.” Wanda interrupts with wide eyes.

Beside her, her redhead girlfriend holds the same expression.

How had they not noticed? You work at their favorite restaurant. And this is a dish they’d thought tasted familiar. 

They’d seen you more than a few times there. They even considered asking to thank you after a meal on more than one occasion but always became flustered at the idea of having an actual conversation with you.

Mainly Wanda. The young woman had developed a crush on you that grew with each visit to your restaurant. A crush that Natasha had continuously teased her about, despite her own attraction to you. 

Now you’re to be in their home for an entire month.  

That seems to fly by quicker than anyone liked.

Over the next couple weeks the team finds themselves loving absolutely everything you cook and growing to like you as a person in general, which admittedly takes a moment since you’re pretty closed off. 

Some nights were spent teaching one of them a certain recipe or valuable techniques. Your two main “students” being Wanda and Natasha.

At first the women weren’t sure about invading your environment as you worked but you’d assured them you didn’t mind showing them some stuff. Especially since you allowed their teammates to learn from you.

What everyone had begun to notice was your approach to the women. While with everyone else you were stern and slightly frustrated, you were much more patient and forgiving with them.

On more than one occasion Tony found you smiling or chuckling softly at Natasha’s mistakes with meals or Wanda’s curiosity toward the meals you made.

He’d teasingly asked you why didn’t snap at them for hovering or being in your space and when you stumbled to answer him he knew. Your month in the compound had lead you to develop feelings for the women.

Which had ate away at you. 

The women are in a relationship. Clearly in love with one another. You knew that your feelings for them would amount to nothing as they are obviously happy together.

But that doesn’t make leaving any less hard.

Your month is up. Tonight is your last night as their chef. So you plan to go all out, as both a thank you and a goodbye. 

Using F.R.I.D.A.Y, you pull together everyone’s favorite meals. It’d been a while since you yourself cooked eight different meals but you still give it your all. Even when you set the table. 

You have F.R.I.D.A.Y call everyone down after you’ve set name cards around the table. You know there’s a chance that you’ve overstepped, having left red roses at Wanda’s and Natasha’s spots.

It’s your way of telling them that they are indeed special to you, without the risk of saying the words to them and having that blow up.

As had become usual, you hear their excited chatter as they sit down, and even their comments pointing out the difference in their spots to Wanda’s and Natasha’s. 

You present them all with a three course meal. Starting simply with salads for everyone, again being special with Natasha and Wanda as you give them soups from their countries of origin. 

The second the smell of the Shchi hits Natasha her mouth waters and while she is mesmerized by the food, she finds herself mainly focused on you as you place a bowl of Zöldségleves in front of Wanda.

Both women then look at you. 

It’s clear you’d paid more than enough attention to them as they spent time with you in the kitchen. And you’d noticed the few times the women mentioned missing the taste of food from their homes. 

Which is further proven when you serve them their favorite meals from their home countries. Chicken Paprikash for Wanda and Pelmeni for Natasha. 

By the end of the night everyone is stuffed, not leaving though until they toast to you and thank you for your services. 

Natasha and Wanda, set on one particular goal, wait for everyone to leave, before going into the kitchen. 

They find you putting away the leftovers from each dish, named sticker labels pressed to the side of the tupperware. As always they’re flustered and attracted to the sight of you moving in the kitchen so elegantly. Like this is truly your element. 

“Oh,” you finally notice them, taking a hardly noticeable step back in shock,“ is there something I can help you ladies with?” You ask, ignoring the heat that’s begun to rush up your neck at the realization of your situation.

“In fact there is.” Natasha says, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You’re almost positive this is the moment they tear you a new one for leaving the roses and obviously making their meals more special than the rest of the teams.

“We were hoping we could give our compliments to the chef.” Wanda speaks slowly, a small purposeful step forward.

Fighting a confused frown, you nod,“ um, well, compliments received.” 

The women take notice of your nervous state. It isn’t often that you act this way. As you usually keep a cool and collected air around yourself. 

And unbeknownst to you, this gives them every bit of information they need. Their thoughts that you are attracted to them as they are you had just been confirmed by you.

“Actually, Wanda and I believe our actions could speak much louder than our words.” Natasha’s voice drops to a flirty tone.

You aren’t sure if you heard her right, but it’s clear you did when Wanda nods and takes yet another step forward.

Hesitantly, she reaches for your hand, and releases a breath when you let her take it.“ We’d really like to show you are gratitude.”

Her innocent words hold a suggestive tone and you swallow, glancing at Natasha who simply smiles reassuringly. So you nod and let them pull you from the kitchen.

You aren’t sure if this will be more than it’s implied to be but you’re eager to find out.

* * * * * * 

[cocobwrites]

Once Upon A Time in Santa Ana

Summary:  Once Upon a Time, Angel Reyes knew you and you knew him. Once Upon a Time, Angel Reyes loved you and you loved him. In him, your teenage hopes and dreams found a home, a safe haven. Angel Reyes took your love and spat it back out at you with malice. Once Upon a Time Angel Reyes accepted a tender, fragile love and burned it down. This is the story of a man trying to rekindle his first love from the ashes.

Chapter 1

                                        Ghost Two: Angel 

Angel was unsettled, unnerved and on edge. There were too many ghosts here. The weight of his past decisions was heavy on his conscience. The streets he rode down lead to memories of emotional crimes he’d sooner forget, and the clubhouse felt like it had the potential to morph into his own personal insane asylum. 

“Angel!” The man being shouted at turned to the sound of the voice. This was the second time today that he’d been slapped in the face by a ghost of his past. The first was by his own doing. Angel knew without a doubt that walking into that convenience store was inviting hurt that he wasn’t 100% sure he could deal with, but the temptation of possibly being so close to you and not attempting to see you was too much. 

In front of him now was ghost number 2, Shania. Shania was the perceived catalyst in Angel’s love story. The cousin/best friend to the girl he first gave his heart to. The devil on his love’s shoulder egging her on to do what she desired most and covering for her disappearance acts. 

The last time Angel saw Shania she was just on the brink of womanhood. At 18 her face still held a girlish charm while her body was blossoming into full adulthood. Looking at her now the transition was complete. Her once rounded cheeks were still full but defined. Her eyes told a story of secrets that came with being grown, and her hips swayed in a way that marked her confidence. In short, Shania had finished growing up. Her hair hung in long coils hitting her waist. They were dyed a bright red and highlighted a lighter red that held a pink tone.  The colors complimented her sepia-toned skin. 

Shania threw her arms around Angel’s neck and pulled him tight swaying back and forth. Angel needed the hug. He needed the affirmation that he hadn’t burned every bridge he built while he was here all those summers ago. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath absorbing the warmth and comfort Shania offered.

“Damn, it’s been a long time,” Shania said while letting go. She smiled up at her former friend. “You forget how a phone works?” She asked following it up with a slap to his arm. “I’m mad at you Angel. Just dipped out without a goodbye and then went ghost. “ These fools” she pointed a thumb in the general direction of the members “treat information about other chapters like they’re in the CIA.” she shook her head.

“How have you been?” Shania finished with a bright smile waiting to hear about how things had been with Angel. 

Angel in return just ran a hand down his face and answered with a short “Shit” followed by a shrug of uncertainty. “I mean good I guess.” He raised his hand palm up and rolled his fingers outward in a questioning gesture. “Just doing club shit.”

Shania’s brow creased and her smile dropped, the face she was currently sporting was eerily reminiscent of her uncle. Angel was sure it was a family trait. “Wow, that was a really insightful look into what life has been like for the last'' she waved her hand “however long.”

Angel laughed, appreciating the blunt but humorous honesty. “Do you want a drink, Angel?” Shania asked and looked over her shoulder apparently feeling EZ approach. 

“Shania, this is my brother EZ. EZ, this is Shania. Shooter’s daughter.” Angel watched EZ stick his hand out and give a half-smile. Shania accepted it and gave it one firm shake. She didn’t let go though. Instead, she turned back to Angel and said “So, is the whole family fine, or were the genes reserved for just y’all?’ She finished what a laugh that mixed with Angels and was accompanied by EZ’s own chuckle. 

“I’m going to grab you a drink.” She finished with a wink and went to do just that. 

EZ stepped up to Angel and watched the girl walk away. “So, that’s Shooter’s daughter meaning she’s the cousin to the unnamed girl.”

Angel knew EZ had said you were unnamed for the sole purpose to get him talking. “She’s not unnamed” Angel answered back not without irritation. 

“Then what’s her name?”  Asked EZ angling himself towards his older brother.

Angel supplied your name. “Look, man, I don’t really want to get into this right now. Just let it alone for a bit EZ.” 

Angel stalked off towards Shania meeting her half-way to get his drink. In truth Angel really didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty about you but he knew he had to. EZ was at a disadvantage not knowing the truth of how Angel left. There were old wounds here that he wasn’t sure fully healed. If judging by how your father reacted and how Shooter was treating him he’d have to say they were very much still open and sore. Why though? That was something that he was hoping to ply information from Shania. 

She handed Angel an open bottle of beer and clinked her own to his before taking a sip. She turned to the side so she was facing him and leaned against an unoccupied pool table.  Angel muttered a thank you and then mimicked her pose. 

Shania took a breath as if to say something, but stopped having changed her mind, and instead took a sip of her beer. 

“Does she know I’m here?” Angel asked deciding to just cut to the chase. “Hell, is she even still here?”

Shania just looked at him for a moment before answering. “Are you being serious right now? You sure you want to open that can of worms?” She huffed and shook her head. Shania set her bottle down on the green of the table and folded her arms over her chest. “Angel, I’m going, to be honest with you.” She paused again. It seemed she was unsure if she wanted to say what she was thinking, but her lips tightened for just a moment and she continued on. 

“You fucked up bad when you left here like you did. At least you gave the appearance that you did.” Her eyes narrowed briefly while she looked Angel over. “I’m willing to forgive and forget. It’s been a long ass time and it’s clear that y’all haven’t had any form of contact. My daddy and uncle on the other hand….” She trailed off. 

“My daddy won’t say anything since it didn’t involve the club, but I’d step lightly around him. Also-” she poked his arm. “Keep yo tail away from my uncle. That man has been itching to beat you down for years. He’s old but he’s quick and trust me, he hits hard.”

“Now do you really want to know the answers to those questions?” She shook her head. “Don’t go pickin’ at scabs unless you’re ready to treat the cut.”

 “I hear you, Shania. I do forreal” Angel paused “and if you don’t think it’s good for her to know I’m here, don’t tell her. I just have to know. Is she still here?” Angel tried to keep the desperation out of his voice but was failing. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about you, but as of late he felt like he was spiraling. There was a need to feel something genuine and untainted again. Something was telling him he could do that with you.

Shania nodded along and listened. “Yeah, she’s still here.”She said casually while pulling her phone out. “Well, more like here again. She moved back home a few years ago.” She continued while apparently responding to a text on her phone. 

“As far as her knowing if you’re back-” She paused again and Angel heard the distinctive single vibration of her phone. Shania nodded in satisfaction. “Put your number in here.” She handed Angel the phone. “I want to be able to get in touch with you again.”

Angel did as directed more focused on if Shania was going to tell follow through and tell you. Shania, for her part, took the phone back and continued to tap away. “She knows now and I gave her your number.” She then pushed off the table and took a swig of her drink while walking away. Angel watched her pocket the phone and felt his stomach drop, rise up in an attempt to lodge in his throat before finally filling with moths. There were no butterflies here. Butterflies were reserved for happy reunions that would be filled with smiles and warm hugs. 

In the time he’d been back Angel had been met primarily with cold acceptance or outright hostility save for Shania. He didn’t know what he’d get with you. He didn’t know if he’d get anything from you. As badly as Angel wanted this reunion he was scared to death of it. 

He’d been reminded multiple times since getting back to Santa Ana that his departure had been less than ideal. From what he was gathering, the ripples of his decisions went farther than he thought they would. Angel huffed to himself and raised his bottle to down the rest. 

When his eyes closed he saw your face; confused and tear-streaked, a silent question on your lips “Why?” He wasn’t sure if what he was remembering was the true sound of your voice or just what he imagined it. While everyone was worried about protecting you they were ignoring the vulnerability Angel was submitting himself to. 

Was your relationship as good as he remembered? Had he taken only the best highlights of it and committed them to memory, leaving all the mess to be forgotten? That was the scary thing about memories. You could never be sure if what you were recalling was the truth or the romanticized version used to get through melancholy.

Angel looked to the now empty bottle and just stared at the label, not really seeing it. Instead is mind was playing that moment on a loop. “Why?” The memory version continued to ask and never getting a true answer. “Because I could” Angel found himself whispering the implied response. 

You had his number. That knowledge left his phone feeling like a boulder in his pocket. Would you use it? Would you let this be content with never having a true resolution? If you did use it would you come at him like your pops? Would you give him a cold welcome like your uncle or would he have you back? Could he take a stroll down memory lane and make you smile like you used to? Would he get to hear that melodic laugh again? Would Angel get a chance at redemption?

Angel eased a long sigh and let the hand holding the bottle fall to his side. He took strides towards the bar looking for another drink and felt the weight of two pairs of eyes on him. A quick glance confirmed they belonged to EZ, observant as usual, and Shania, scrutinizing and assessing. It was going to be a long weekend.

[leafs-lover]

If he’s lucky I’ll let him join

Part 1: Wildest Dream

Series Masterlist

A/N: I wrote this kind of quickly. I’ve had this idea for a while now, i hope you like it. In case you haven’t noticed I have a thing for Fred, but how can you not? 

Warning: Swearing, some drinking, and smut lots of smut, this is pure filth. I actually toned it back from my original plan a bit believe it or not...

Word Count: 7500

“You don’t have to do this” he says looking into your eyes. You stare at the man a few meters away in the corner of the room, his light eyes full of care and compassion. You turn your head to the man beside you; his pupil’s dark and dilated, full of lust.

You have talked about this a bit, but you have thought about it even more. You had been thinking about it for months, unsure how to bring it up. You and Fred only met in December and had been hanging out for almost a month when he invited you out for drinks with some of the players and their girlfriends.

They all seemed really nice, and welcomed you in to their circle. You felt calm and at ease until the door opened and a 6’3” brunette entered. He had broad shoulders, similar to most of the men in the room. His shirt showed off his sculpted arms, almost looking one size too tight. He had on a ball cap, dark hair peeking out under it as he entered smiling at his friends.

He greeted everyone before making his way to you, “you must be (Y/N). Auston, nice to meet you.” You smile back at him “yeah you too.” You spend most of the night chatting with Fred and Mitch, while some of the players play beer pong. You kept getting the feeling someone was looking at you, and every time you turned around you often found Auston staring at you from the corner of his eye.

You think it happened when he pulled you in for a game of beer pong as his partner. His hand hit the small of your back and the hair on the nape of your neck stood up in response. “Fair warning I’m not the best at it” you say stopping beside him at the table. “You’ll probably have to carry me.”

“I think I can handle that” he says smirking at you. He gives you a gentle shove as you set the cups up. You immediately feel wetness pool in your core.

You continue with the game and the playful banter has your mind wandering. Thinking about his body pressed up against you tongue drawing slow circles along your neck. You could feel yourself practically dripping as you continue to play.

Mitch throws a ball and it begins to swirl around the rim of the cup, you bend to blow the ball out when Auston hooks a finger in pulling it out before it touches the liquid. Watching him makes you wonder what it would feel like to have his fingers curled inside you.

You immediately glance over to Fred who was none the wiser to what his friend was making you feel. You know if you stay beside him longer you won’t be able to pull yourself away. As soon as the game is over you manage to pull Fred away; you barely made it through the door before pressing him against the wall.

Pressing his jacket off his wide shoulders you slowly dropped to your knees. Keeping your eyes glued on the 6'4” Dane above you, you pulled his thick cock into your mouth. You noticed his eyes straining his breathing getting uneasy, getting closer to spilling inside your mouth. Before his warmth was dripping down your throat he pulled you off your knees.

Within seconds he picked you up carrying you to his room. Instead of throwing you against his mattress he pinned you against the wall. He followed your lead dropping to his knees and throwing one leg over his shoulder. His mouth quickly found your slick heat, tongue sliding inside your walls.

An hour later you’re lying in his bed, the man beside you having just fallen asleep. You stare at the ceiling with a million thoughts running through your head. Thoughts about Auston and what you felt being around him.

You told yourself it was the drinks that had you feeling that way. You would never do anything with Auston, you are seeing Fred. You didn’t want to date Auston, but all you could think about was him railing you while Fred shoved his dick down your throat, him filling you with his warm cum. You had never had a threesome, never even considered one, but every time you were in his presence you only wanted him more.

You would never bring it up to Fred, mostly because you don’t know how to tell him you want his best friend to fuck you. You don’t want to create any tension between the two boys or for Fred to feel uncomfortable with you being around the team. You tell yourself it’s a stupid crush that will go on its own, and you only find yourself imagining these things when you spend time with Auston. It’s not like you think about him every day.

You and Fred haven’t discussed labels; you talk to him sometimes while he is on the road and exchange texts. For the most part you keep it pretty causal but you have amazing sex together. You spend most of your time in his apartment, but you occasionally go out on dates together. Regardless of the status of your relationship you don’t want to jeopardize what you have by bringing up his friend.

It didn’t help when the boys returned from their LA road trip in March and had a weekend off. They had a couple practices, but no games for 3 nights, and those days fell on an actual weekend. You all planned on going to a club, Early Mercy. You dressed in your favourite black dress. It was likely an inch or two too short, and the cut hung low accentuating your chest. You paired it with a pair of bright red stilettos.

Fred is dressed in a tight long sleeve shirt; it’s tight enough to show off his tight muscles underneath. The drinks have been flowing, and a few shots have been thrown back. You are feeling good as you sit lightly on Fred’s thigh, his arm around you. “You are driving me crazy” he whispers in your ear as your hand slides down his back. You lean in closer to his ear and chuckle placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Turning your head you stare across the table to Auston in his tight black button down shirt. The top button is left undone, his chain peeking out from his firm chest. You grin at him as you feel his eyes glancing over you while he talks to Will. You think about how he is driving you crazy without even doing anything. He smirks at you taking a sip of his drink, before turning his attention back to William.  

You place a soft kiss on Fred’s cheek “I’m going to run to the bathroom” you say getting up. You look at Fred’s glass, seeing it is almost empty.

On your way back you stop at the bar to order you both another drink. Someone beside you stumbles back into you and you begin to lose your footing. You feel a strong pair of hands on your hip as they help keep you from falling.

“You okay?” you hear him say loudly over the music into your ear.

You feel a tingling in your core instantly recognizing the voice, his arms still on your hips and you can feel his breath on your neck as he leans in to hear a response. You turn slightly and smell his cologne and practically lose your footing there “yeah” you yell back “I’m good. Thanks.” You smile at him and he removes his hands from you before turning to the bartender to order drinks.

As he pulls his hands off, you feel the sensation burning where they once were. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have his fingers pressed deep inside you. His fingers fucking you, bringing you to a high.

Later that night you are in bed with Fred. He is on his back, you positioned between his legs sucking his cock. His hand is lightly in your hair holding it away from your face as you deep throat him. You haven’t been going down on him long, but you are completely ignited, fire radiates inside you. Fred senses your mood, and pushes his hips to fuck into your mouth. In less than 3 minutes Fred is holding your head steady as he is spilling deep down your throat.

After you finish licking him up you pull your mouth from him. You crawl up sitting on his stomach, his dick pressed under your hips. You rock your hips against him as you lean down and kiss him. Fred groans as you continue to grind back onto him, he tries to push you on your back to return the favour but you can’t wait.

You can tell he is half hard again underneath you, so you push his chest back down. You grin down at him and ride up, bringing a hand down to his member. After a few strokes he is painfully hard and you line yourself and his tip is pressing into your entrance. Fred reaches into the side table to pull out a condom, you shake your head.

“I want all of you, fill me with your cum” you say to him. His eyes go wide as he pulls you down by the back of your neck kissing you. His fingers slide to your hips and he pulls you down onto him, you both gasp at the feeling. Before allowing any time to adjust you set a fast pace. You cum twice on his cock before Fred finally spills deep inside you.

“Fuck, what came over you tonight?” he asks, pulling you into his arms.

“I don’t know” you say lightly.

“Well whatever it was, feel free to have it happen again” he mumbles into your hair.

You laugh as you hear him fall asleep. A ting of guilt washes over you; you know exactly what came over you. You kept imagining it was Auston’s dick hitting the back of your throat. That you were riding Auston as Fred kissed your neck and played with your breasts.

You tell yourself you will tell Fred, try and explain what you are feeling. Find a way to not make him awkward or uncomfortable as you tell him you want to fuck his best friend.

But before you have the chance the NHL pauses the season for the coronavirus pandemic. Fred takes off to quarantine with Auston, you aren’t that surprised. If he stayed you would be stuck in a small condo. But it does suck not having him around for sex for the next two months.

While he is in Arizona you talk periodically and exchange text messages. You know he is enjoying himself, but in mid-June he leaves to return back to complete his 14 day quarantine prior to the season starting.

You are sitting in your living room when you hear your phone chime.

F: Hey I just finished my quarantine want to hang out?

Y: Yes! Be there in an hour?

F: Can’t wait ;)

You walk into his apartment and before you can get the door closed Fred has you pinned against it “missed you” he mumbles kissing you.

“Missed you too Fred” you chuckle as he reaches down to grip your legs and carry you to his room.

An hour later you are tangled in his arms, your bodies a sweaty mess. “Sorry for dragging you here right away, I just missed you” he says brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Never apologize when you give me three orgasms” you laugh. “How was Arizona?” you ask him.

“It was good, hung out by the pool. Auston got a dog so got to spend my days with a puppy. It got pretty hot down there though” he laughs. “You still off work?” he asks.

“Yeah, schools might be starting up in September, if they do I will be back to work then” you reply.

You spend the next couple hours with him in bed exchanging orgasms. Your legs are practically jelly and your core is raw. You know you won’t be able to walk right for days but it’s worth it. The months of having to take care of things by yourself pale in comparison to anything Fred does to you. Around 10 you wake up from a nap and finally pull yourself away to have a shower, when you change you find Fred on Facetime in his living room.

“Got to go man, talk to you later” he says when he hears you.

“Auston says hi” he says when you sit beside him.

“Spent 3 months together and now you can’t go a day without talking? Cute” you joke and Fred laughs. “How is he doing?” you ask.

“He is alright, coming back soon” Fred explains trailing off. “He uh, he talked about you a couple times while I was down there.”

You turn and look at Fred waiting for him to continue. There is a slight flutter in your heart and quiver in your pussy at the thought of him talking about you. “He wants to…to…” he looks you in the eyes before taking a deep breath “he wants to know if you would want to have a threesome with you.”

Your eyes go wide at his words, and it takes a lot of will power to stop your eyes from rolling in the back of your head. You turn to look away when Fred puts a finger under your chin tilting your head to him. “I’ve seen how you look at him (Y/N/N). I know you think he’s attractive.”

Your face immediately goes red; you didn’t realize you were so obvious with your feelings. Fred chuckles and kisses you lightly helping to calm you a bit but your heart is still racing. You so badly want to agree and tell Fred everything, but a huge part of you is frozen.

“Okay, but how do you feel about this?” you ask him hesitantly.

Fred shrugs “I’m fine with it. I mean we aren’t anything serious. Besides I know he won’t make you feel nearly as good as I do” he has a devilish grin on his face with those words. His mouth moves a few inches from your ear, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

You sit there taking in everything he said, thinking of the consequences of going through with this “just think about it. 100% your choice and whenever you’re ready” Fred says before kissing your sweet spot.

This is what had brought you here. The boys have been participating in training camp, leaving to enter the bubble in 5 nights. Fred invited both you and Auston over for dinner, you hadn’t given Fred an answer, hadn’t even discussed it since then. You know that Fred invited him for just dinner, and there are no expectations for anything more.

All night you stare across the table at both men, trying to engage in conversation. Your attention kept getting pulled away to Auston’s arm, he was wearing a black t-shirt that showed his tattoo’s off. You thought about tracing his tattoos up his arm to his chest, but what would you do once you reached his chest? Where does your hand go, back down his arm? Further down his stomach across his abs? And then what?

After dinner Fred goes to the washroom and Auston picks up some of the plates, you grab the remainder and set them on the counter. Auston turns to grab them and put them in the sink when you practically jump onto him.

Your arms snake around his neck and you kiss him, he hesitates for a second before sinking into the kiss. His arms slide down your back to your ass giving you a light squeeze. You yelp as he laughs hoisting you on the counter. You wrap your legs around his waist “bedroom” you demand before he has the chance to kiss you again.

He picks you up and carried you to the bedroom with ease. You pepper his shoulder and neck with kisses “fuck I have thought about this for so long” he growls into your ear. You feel your panties become soaked at his words, hearing he has wanted you. Just like you want him.

He sits on the bed, you still straddling him, and wastes no time reattaching his lips to yours, you allow his tongue entrance as your hands play with the hem of his shirt.

You hear the bedroom door close as Fred enters the room. You both pull apart for a second and hear Fred say “leave you alone for two minutes and you stick your tongue down my friend’s throat.

You can’t gauge his expression so you climb off and sit beside Auston on the bed. You feel bad; maybe he isn’t comfortable with this anymore. Fred walks to the chair in the corner of the room, he smirks at you “you don’t have to do this” he says lightly looking into your eyes.

You stare at the man a few meters away in the corner of the room, his light eyes full of care and compassion. You turn your head to the man beside you, his pupils dilated and full of lust.

“You can if you want to, but you don’t have to” Auston says grinning. Your eyes turn back to Fred who is relaxed in the chair staring at you. You look between both men; you are soaked and wonder if you have soaked through your jeans.

You run through all outcomes, not the short term outcomes they all end in pleasure. You play out what will happen between you and Fred, between Fred and Auston. If it will be awkward between you and Auston moving forward.

Auston runs his right arm through his hair; his tattoos catch your eye. Before you can think you spring onto him pushing him onto his back. You rock your hips against him as you lean down kissing him. His right hand tangles in your hair as his left pushes up the hem of your shirt and strokes up your stomach.

You shudder against his touch when he quickly pulls your shirt off revealing you breasts. He pushes his hand up on your bra, squeezing you through the lace. You groan as his entire large hand easily engulfs your breast.

His lips are back on yours, placing a sloppy kiss on you. You open your mouth allowing his tongue in as he massages your breast. You moan into the kiss, as his hand in your hair slides down your back to easily unclasp your bra. He frees them of the fabric and pulls away, admiring you with a grin.

“Fred, you’re a lucky man” Auston says not bothering to glance at the man in the corner, attaching his mouth to your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around it. His other hand keeps massaging you, pinching your nipple when you hear Fred’s deep seeded chuckle from the corner “just you wait and you’ll see just how lucky I am.”

“Oh trust me, I plan on finding out” he says pulling away slightly. His hand slides down to your belt, and you look over at Fred. He is sitting in the chair staring at you. You are still fully clothed but he smirks as you stare at him. Auston pulls your belt through the loops when his hands stop wandering your body.

“(Y/N)” Auston calls turning your head to look at him. “It’s just you and me right now. Fred doesn’t get to touch; he has to watch as I destroy you over and over again.” He turns his head to Fred who smirks and rolls his eyes.

“If he’s lucky I’ll let him join” Auston grins before he turns his attention to you and flips you onto your back kissing your stomach. He is pulling your pants down your legs leaving you in just a pair of soaked purple panties. He spreads your legs and grins seeing the wet stain that has leaked through your thin fabric.

“Have you been this wet all night?” he asks, his finger dancing on your clothed clit.

“Since Fred told me you would be coming for dinner” you manage to whisper looking up at him. He lies down on his stomach looking up at your pussy and kisses you through your fabric, tasting your wetness. You groan as he lightly licks up your fabric nipping at the skin on your thighs.

He sucks hard on your pubic bone, as his fingers graze over your core. The teasing has you going insane, you try and push your hips up to get more friction.

“Be careful princess” he warns you. You smile lightly at the pet name he has for you “you get one more warning then I punish you for not obeying.”

He pushes your hips down and returns to leaving marks on your pelvis and thighs. You use all your willpower to not squirm your legs as his finger grazes up and down your thin fabric. He uses a finger and slides it to the side and finally slips one finger inside you. Your head falls back into the bed at the slightest bit of contact from him.

He slowly pumps it in and out of you. He isn’t trying to get you off, just trying to get you hot and bothered, to edge you. He continues slowly pushing a finger in you as your panties fall over top his hand. He pulls his finger out and immediately tears your underwear off.

“Auston!” you scowl.

“Relax” he laughs. “Fred will buy you a new pair” he says throwing them to Fred who laughs lightly.

He quickly shoves two fingers inside and starts thrusting them inside you. You gasp at the feeling of his large fingers and turn your head to Fred. He is still fully clothed, but now you can see his erection pressing against his shorts. He sits there staring, and appears to be calm; not fazed by his best friends actions.

Auston continues to pump his fingers inside you, when you feel his mouth suck on your nipple. You moan in pleasure, and feel a thumb press circles on your clit. The pace of his fingers increases, curling to hit your g-spot every time. You watch as his tattooed arm flexes, quickly thrusts his hand in and out of you.

Your hands reach to his hair and you give him a light tug earning a chuckle from Auston. His thumb presses hard into your clit and you gasp and turn your head to look at Auston.

“You getting close” Auston murmurs against your breast.

“Yes” you say, stretching your legs and rocking your hips into his hand slightly. He sucks on your nipple, lightly grazing his teeth over it before releasing it. He brings his lips to yours and places a sloppy kiss on your lips before he slips a third finger in.

“Fuck” you scream gripping his hair even harder.

“Cum for me princess” he growls in your ear, your pussy clenching around him at the purr of pet name. A few more thrusts and your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you. Auston slows his hand but he doesn’t take it out of you, working you through your high. “You’re so hot when you cum” he says slipping one finger out and kissing you.

His hand has completely stopped, 2 fingers still sitting inside you as you kiss him. Your tongues fight for dominance and you can feel his erection straining to be exposed from his jeans. You release one hand and attempt to slide it between you and undo the button when Auston starts moving his hand inside you again.

You gasp and pull away slightly as he laughs “no” you whisper bringing your hand to his wrist trying to clasp around it. Trying to pull them out of you.

“I told him you’d say no” Fred begins while Auston peppers kisses on your collar bone. You turn your head to look at Fred while Auston crawls down and lies on his stomach hooking your legs over his shoulder. “I also told him that if he doesn’t listen to you, pleasure will override the pain. Told him how you like it when I don’t stop” Fred explains shifting in his seat to get a better view with a large grin.

Auston licks up some of the juices that still remain on you, you whimper at the feeling before he pushes his mouth onto you. You feel his stubble rubbing against your thighs as he scissors you open and presses his tongue deep inside you.  He starts by cleaning out all the juices from before, then he begins to lick up your walls.

He brings a hand up and grabs your breast, while his tongue moves to suck on your clit. His fingers curled inside you continuing to hit your sweet spot. You grip the sheet and look over at Fred who is sitting on the edge of his chair, he looks at you and smiles. Something about Fred watching you turns you on more, it’s a thrill like nothing you have felt before.

“I wish you could see what I see skat” he hums before turning his gaze back down your body to watch his best friend.

“It’s too much” you moan, legs shaking.

You hear Auston laugh as he presses his tongue inside your walls, sucking on your clit. Fred doesn’t look up at you but answers “give it another minute, I can tell you are getting close.”

Auston’s tongue flicks inside you and you moan as your toes curl “told you” Fred says smiling. “I know your body. Keep it up man she is close again.”

Your head stays locked on Fred, he is gripping the arm rest firmly, eyes glued to your pussy.

“Auston” you moan, his tongue pressed deep inside you.

You feel your second orgasm approaching, your knuckles go white. You are sure the neighbours can hear you. Your legs begin to tremble as you bubble over, your juices dripping down his hand. His mouth making quick work to clean it up as his hands keep moving inside you, working you through your high.

When you stop moaning he pulls his fingers from you and crawls up beside you. He pushes his fingers into your mouth and you moan tasting yourself as you clean his thick digits. You bring a hand down to his pants and undo the button and zipper, you try to push them down his legs causing him to laugh “eager eh?”

He kisses your neck and whispers just loud enough for Fred to hear “he not taking care of you?”

Fred shakes his head and rolls his eyes, he pulls his shirt off of his chest and you stare at him while Auston kisses your neck. Fred stands up and removes his shorts, you can see his erection straining the fabric of his boxer. You know what is waiting for you underneath his boxers, and you want it now.

Auston pulls away from you and looks to Fred “you said I could have my fun first, well I’m not done.” Fred freezes and stares at him. Both of their eyes are dark and narrowed in on the other waiting for the other to flinch first. It is the hottest staring match you have ever seen, both trying to assert their dominance but it’s Auston who takes control first.

“Sit” he demands. Fred obeys and wordlessly returns to the chair, you feel some disappointment. You were really ready for both of them.

Auston quickly peels his clothes off. His cock slaps into his chest when he pulls his boxers off. Your jaw practically falls to the floor, earning a laugh from both men. Freddie was slightly longer than most men you had seen, but he was thick. You remember the first time you saw him you didn’t think you would be able to stretch enough for him. But Auston is longer than anything you have ever seen, easily an inch longer, but he isn’t as thick as Fred. You don’t know if you can take all of him in you.

He leans down to kiss you, erasing some of your fears, you stroke him up and down. He groans into the kiss before falling onto his back pulling you onto of him. You can feel his dick pressed between you as his hands tangle into your hair.

After a minute you pull away and grin at him before making your way down his body. Slowly peppering his chest with warm open mouth kisses, your nails raking down him as you press on. You finally reach the area where he wants you, his eyes locked on you.

“You’re in for something special” Fred says from his chair, and you raise your eyebrows to Auston. You suck hard on his pubic bone, next his thigh leaving marks along your way. He groans when you lightly kiss his tip, before moving to the other thigh sucking on him.

He bucks his hip up and you chuckle “impatient are we?” you ask teasing his tip.

“Fuck (Y/N) such a tease” he says. You begin placing light kisses on the throbbing vein of his shaft, never breaking eye contact. You bring a hand to pick up his dick and open your mouth; you lick up his shaft before putting him in your mouth.

You push down, and begin slowly bobbing taking the rest in your hand. They work in tandem as you swirl your tongue around him. You lightly rake your teeth on him as you suck on him, his head falls back into the bed as he lightly pushes his hip forward.

You begin taking more and more of him in your mouth “you can do it baby” Fred encourages you from the corner. You hollow your cheek and deep throat Auston, hearing him swear above you. His hands tighten their grip on your hair as you continue to deep throat him, gagging slightly as spit dribbles out.

Auston smirks when you choke slightly on his length, you respond by bringing a hand to massage his balls. “Fred you’re so lucky” Auston groans out.

You hear Fred chuckle as you keep bobbing on him. You can tell his orgasm is approaching when the bed dips beside you and Fred’s hand is on your back.

“Think you can let him take control babe?” he asks. You pull back slightly, still keeping Auston in your mouth you turn your gaze to Fred. He is rubbing your back lightly, as he waits for an answer. Your eyes go wide and you smile around Auston’s cock as you hum in approval.

Auston’s dick twitches slightly as you vibrate around his cock. He smiles, the glistening reaching his eyes. Fred smiles at you and helps you to the floor where you sit on your knees at the edge of the bed.

Hard wood is under your knees as you adjust your position. Fred returns to his chair as Auston moves to sit in front of you on the bed. “You’re about to see just how lucky I am” Fred says as Auston grips the back of your neck.

You open your mouth and he slides his wet cock back inside. You slide your hands up Auston’s legs, stopping on his thighs. He pushes his cock into you, hitting the back of your throat. He pulls back and slowly pushes back into you when you squeeze his thighs lightly.

He takes that as approval and increases his speed, ramming down your throat. He uses the hand on the back of your head to pull you forward fucking into your face. Your hands grip tight, leaving scratch marks on him.

He keeps going, chasing his high. You look at him through your lashes and can see him straining. He brings his second hand to your head and pulls you in close, shooting warm ribbons down your throat with a grunt. He thrusts your mouth onto his cock a few times until he is dry. He releases your hair and you pull your mouth off him, you stand up and kiss him.

He turns you around and pulls you into his lap, kissing your neck.

“Look at what you’ve done to Fred” he growls in your ear. His large hand finds your throat holding your gaze on the man in the corner.

You can see beads of sweat on his forehead, and the obvious bulge in his boxers. You can tell his dick is pink, tip is throbbing waiting for you to touch him. Auston’s hand massages your breast “you want to touch him?” he asks in your ear.

“So bad” you whimper.

You try to stand up and move to Fred, but Auston has a tight grip on your throat holds you in place “not yet princess.” He slides his tongue in your ear, while fondling your breasts with his left hand, his right hand slides down and presses into your swollen bud.

“Fuck…I..” you stare at Fred so ready to finally touch him. Auston wraps both arms around you and stands up, he practically throws you onto the bed. You land on your stomach and stick your ass out to him. You feel his hand slap your ass causing you to yelp at the sting “not yet princess, turn over.”

You listen and roll over onto your back. Auston’s eyes are dark as he looks up and down you. He opens your legs and you stare at his naked body. Admiring his physique but also his tattoos, you are captivated staring at him, he notices and smiles at you making your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He lays down hooking your legs around him, staring into your glistening cunt. He gently licks you three times before pushing his tongue inside you. His tongue is deep inside you, his nose pressed hard into your clit. He brings a thumb to start pressing circles on your clit as he licks your walls.

He curls his tongue inside you, and you are a mess, you squirm at the feeling and he throws an arm over your hips to hold you in place. Normally it would take longer for you to get there just from his tongue, but the previous two still has you on edge. His tongue is licking you and you can feel your third orgasm quickly approaching.

“Auston” you groan loudly, legs clamping around his head. He brings two fingers up and slips them into your ass. You gasp loudly as your head falls back into the pillow and rolls to the side, you look at Fred who is now naked and stroking himself. You see his thick cock, with salty precum dripping down it. Thick hand wrapped around it stroking up and down his harm member. You moan thinking about licking it up, putting him inside your mouth and sucking him dry.

Auston never moves his fingers, he leaves them deep inside you for the feeling, the stretching while he works on your pussy. Fred doesn’t see you staring, his eyes locked on his best friend sucking on your cunt. You watch a little longer, seeing his strokes increase in speed.

“Freddie” you groan, thinking of his dick so close to you, and what you want to do to it. Your mouth is watering, you can practically taste him on your tongue.

His eyes snap up to you and he grins, not stopping his motions. Auston chuckles below you but that only encourages him to go deeper and harder inside you.

“Fred” you moan lightly and he smiles. He knows you want it, but also that it’s his friend’s time. That he can look but not touch.

“Soon skat, soon you will wrap those pretty little lips around me” he says. His words throw you over the edge. Your legs spasm around Auston’s head, knuckles gripping his hair tightly as you feel your release. Your orgasm is intense causing you to squirt all over his mouth and face, you tremble around him but he doesn’t stop until you are finished.

He pulls his fingers out, and next lifts his face from your warm cunt. Both men are staring at you, Fred has stopped stroking himself.

“Wow” Auston says chuckling, his face drenched in your juices.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” you say to him.

Both men look to each other before back to you “never apologize for that” Auston says.

“That was so hot” Fred agrees and they both chuckle lightly.

Auston walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean himself, Fred sits on the bed beside you “you are doing so well” he says stroking your hair. You place a hand on his thigh, pinky grazing his swollen tip. He brings his lips to your forehead “soon smuk” he whispers before returning to the chair as Auston walks back into the room.

Auston sits beside you and kisses you lightly “you are amazing” he whispers. His words alone almost pull your fourth orgasm from you. Something about his praise mixed with his assertion has you feeling so many things. Before you can relish in the words his lips are back on yours. It is soft and passionate kiss, your hand slides down to his hard shaft and you stroke it a few time.

“You ready for me?” he asks and you eagerly nod. He kisses you once more before pulling away slightly to kiss your forehead “hands and knees” he orders.

You crawl up higher on the bed, head near the headboard when Auston laughs. “No down here. Look at Fred so he can see your face.” You smile and oblige moving to position yourself to stare directly at Fred.

Auston stands behind you, his hands gripping your hips. You feel him toying at your entrance when a hand smack against your ass yet again. Fred laughs as he watches you jump slightly.

Auston quickly slides inside you, your juices from before providing an easy lubrication. He bottoms out your ass hitting his pelvis. You groan at feeling him hitting areas that haven’t been touched and you look down at the bed unable to keep your eyes open.

“No elskede, eyes up here. Let me watch you” Fred says lightly. You stare at him and see his hard cock, resting against his stomach. Auston begins to rock inside you, not giving you time to adjust he sets a steady pace causing you to groan loudly. He keeps his hands on your hips pulling you back onto him as you moan loudly.

“You’re so tight” Auston groans from behind you.

You fall onto your elbows, arching your back further for him. Reaching out in front of you, you grip the bedsheets tightly. Your body is filled with pleasure as you smile at Fred before they roll into the back of your head. You tightly clench the sheet as Auston bottoms out in you every time. Your moans and slapping noises fill the room.

Fred wraps his hand around his shaft and starts stroking himself again. You wish he was closer so it could be your hands wrapped around him. Your head falls to the mattress, unable to support yourself. Auston thrusts into you a few times, before he slows his pace. He reaches down and grabs your neck pulling you to his back.

His hand is wrapped around your neck, however he doesn’t squeeze it. Instead he uses it to hold you in place while he fucks you from behind.

“See what you’re doing to Fred?” he asks in your ear.

“Yes” you croak out watching as Fred strokes himself eyes locked on you. Watching your tits bounce every time his friend drives into you.

Auston’s other hand snakes to your clit and presses into it. Your head falls back to his shoulder, your eyes close.

“What do you want?” he asks.

You open your mouth but can’t respond as he keeps pushing inside you. He uses his hand to cup your chin making you look at Fred.

“Want to help him out?” he asks. You and Fred lock eyes before you see his throbbing cock.

“My mouth” you groan out as Auston keeps sliding in and out of you. “I can help with my mouth.”

Auston chuckles “I think he’d like that” he groans while rocking into you.

Fred walks over to the bed and Auston brings his hand back to your hip. Fred locks you in a sloppy kiss as Auston slowly moves inside you. Your hand slides down to stroke him a few times before Auston pushes your back, causing you to fall forward onto the bed.

Fred positions himself in front of you and you take him in your mouth. Auston is pulling you slowly back onto is dick as you take Fred in your mouth. He allows you to set a pace on him before his hips snap and he increases his pace.

You groan loudly and Fred grabs the back of your neck. He pulls you onto his cock, his pace following the one Auston has set. You know Fred isn’t going to last, he has been watching you and his friend for the last hour. He has been stroking himself, and you can tell his orgasm is close. You bring a hand to his ass and pinch him as he keeps fucking into your mouth.

Auston senses Fred is close and slows his pace so Fred can shoot down your throat. You bob on him a few times when both his hands grip your face holding you in place allowing you to suck him dry before he pulls out of your mouth.

As soon as Fred pulls out so does Auston, he lies on his back and you crawl up him. You use a hand to lift him to guide yourself on him when he stops you “turn around” he whispers.

You smile and turn to see Fred grinning “told him it’s your favourite” he winks before ducking into the bathroom for a minute. You sit on your knees, feet up by his sides. He helps guide you onto him as you lean forward and grip his large thighs.

You start using your legs to move up and down him. Auston has a perfect view of your ass as you slide up and down. Fred walks back into the room and sits on the edge of the bed watching you ride his friend.

You ride him, using your hips to control his cock. You thrust hard and then slow, grinding on him, he is in heaven. Using your knees to steady yourself as you bring your body up and down on his cock, watching as slides in and out of you.

You lean back placing a hand on Auston’s stomach feeling the curves of his muscles, your other begins massaging your breast. You hear one of the boys mutter a fuck but you aren’t sure what one. Auston grips your ass, your hand slides down to your clit. You moan out loudly with every thrust.

He pushes his hips, thrusting deeper inside than before. You moan loudly and know your orgasm will come quickly. You start chasing your high, pressing hard into your bud when Fred kisses you, his hand tangling into your hair.

You bring your hand from your clit and start stroking Fred as he groans into your kiss.

You can feel Auston getting sloppy, but you increase your pace. Fred’s large hand massages your breast pulling on your nipple rolling it through his thumb and index finger, his other hand turns its attention to your clit while Auston is gripping your ass. All that combined with his long dick pressing into your g-spot has you on the edge, waiting to fall off the cliff.

You can hear Auston say something, but you can’t focus on him chasing down your high. You scream out in pleasure still bouncing on Auston as Fred presses hard into your clit. You swear you can feel him hit your stomach with his length, the sounds around you fading into the background as you focus on one thing. Your release.

Fred sucks on your bottom lip and you feel yourself fill with warm cum. You stop moving as Auston thrusts a few more times, spilling deep inside you.

“Did you just –“ you start to ask Auston pulling away from Fred.

“I called out like 4 times” he explains. “You didn’t stop or get off. I’m so sorry (Y/N). Fred…man, I-“

“Don’t worry, I heard you” he says grinning and kissing you again holding you in place on his friend. “She was so close I thought we could get her there.”

He finally pulls you off his friend and you glare at him. “Frederik” you huff at him. You and Fred stopped using condoms but you hadn’t discussed it with Auston.

“Please I know you have wanted this since you played beer pong with him months ago. I know you have been imagining him while you fuck me. What it would feel like to be full of his cum.”

He kisses your neck “tell me I’m wrong” he mumbles in your ear.

You look at him, his light brown eyes staring at you. You open your mouth to talk, before you close it and think for a minute how to answer.

“You can’t say it because I’m right” he grins. He slips two fingers inside you and starts pumping them, Auston’s warm cum spills out around them.

“It’s okay skat” he says in your ear. “He can pull out next time if you want.”

“What?” you ask as his fingers press fully inside you. His thumb begins to press circles on your bud when you feel Auston’s breath on your ear “this was too much fun to just do once” he whispers as he helps you rock your hips on Fred’s fingers.

“Next time maybe he’ll let you finish first” Fred jokes turning his attention to his friend. Before you can answer Fred pulls you onto his hard member. He stretches you out, but you are wet from your juices and Auston’s cum still spilling out of you he slides in with ease.

You rise and drop on him a few times, hand tightly gripping his shoulders. He sucks a mark on your neck, his hands pulling you down on him.

Fred pushes you onto your back and pulls a knee up, wrapping his elbow under it. He pushes inside you, each thrust causes some of Auston’s warm cum to spill down your thigh. Auston brings a finger and wipes it up before bringing it to your mouth. You open your mouth and lick his finger clean.

Fred rocks his hips, quickly pushing inside you. Your head falls back to the bed as you groan loudly. Auston massages your breast, pinching your nipple while Fred thrusts hard inside you. Your hand snakes into Fred’s hair, digging into his neck.

“Come on smuk, I know you have to” Fred whispers to you.

“Let go princess Let us both watch as you fall apart” Auston mumbles in your ear. Your walls flutter at the Danish being whispered in one ear, and the new pet name being mumbled in your other.

“Ahh” you scream out. Your hand scratches down Fred’s shoulder and bicep. He keeps pressing into you, as you feel him getting sloppy. Auston moves his hand from your breast down to your clit and presses circles into you.

“Oh my god” you moan causing Fred to groan.

“Cum for Fred” Auston says to you. You come undone, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Fred continues to work you through it, as Auston pulls his hand away and brushes your hair.

“Fuck” you moan as it continues. It is the longest orgasm you have had, not just tonight but in your life. Every part of you is practically convulsing as you pulsate around Fred’s cock. You feel Fred’s dick twitch as he spills deep inside of you. After he has finished you have as well and he stops thrusting. Auston pulls you into his arm, brushing your hair slick with sweat from your face. Fred pulls out and falls to the other side of you, you wrap an arm around him.

His hand rests on your stomach, as Auston presses soft kisses into your temple. You snuggle in to his arm, while stroking up Fred’s.

Auston continues to place soft kisses on your temple as Fred soothingly strokes your stomach while his lips are pressed into your neck. You hand begins tracing the shape of Auston’s tattoo as you lay there for a few minutes catching your breath, both men holding you tight between their large bodies.

Fred is the first to move to the bathroom and he turns on the shower. While he is gone Auston turns you to look at him. You bring your hand to his cheek and stroke him before he places a soft and hesitant kiss on your lips.

“Thank you for this” he whispers. He kisses you once more, this time with a slight hesitation. It’s not until your hand runs back up his tattooed arm that he leans into it. His tongue swipes inside your mouth and you pull him down closer to yourself.

You expect him to be the first to pull away, instead he sinks into it a hand tangling into your hair. This kiss, this moment is unlike everything else you have experienced with him tonight. He easily could have pulled his clothes on and slipped out, but you get the impression he needs this. One last kiss.

Finally he pulls back and has a wide smile plastered on his face. With a quick peck on the cheek he pulls away and gets dressed and leaves the room. Turning to the door of the attached bathroom you see the large frame of Fred leaning against it. You don’t know what he saw but he grins, making his way to you. He picks you up, carrying you to the shower. He sets you on the shower bench and kisses you “be right back.”

A couple minutes later he returns and pulls you to your feet. He helps to clean you, and runs a finger over the marks on your body. “He really did a number on you eh” he laughs washing the shampoo from you.

After showering he helps you change and to bed. You realize that he changed the sheets and you both crawl into the freshly made bed. He runs his hands through your wet hair.

“Did you mean it?” you ask him looking up at him. “Next time?”

He looks down at you with golden brown eyes “if you want, yeah. Completely your choice” he says.

He continues running his hands through your damp hair as you shift tighter into his arm. Your heart rate slows and you lie there for a minute “I think I’d like that” you say before you doze off.

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 1

A/N + Summary: SO I’m currently obsessed with the Outer Banks right now, and I had no idea that there was so much hype about it until I hit tumblr after watching the show. It kind of got me back into writing for a bit so I thought I would go ahead and publish something that’s been sitting in my drafts. It’s essentially a fanfic that goes through the entire show from the perspective of the reader, who is John B’s twin sister. Let me know if it piques anyone’s interest, because I don’t want to keep pushing out something that people hate lol. 

Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, slowburn

Word count: 3056

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were tired of listening to the waves. It made you sick to your stomach. It didn’t help that the Chateau was so close to the water that it was all you could hear at night. The waves crashing on the shore. The waves colliding with each other. The waves fighting to topple boats that made the mistake of trying to take on a storm too big for them. 

You listened for your father in every wave. You hoped you’d at least hear the ghost of your father.

Unlike John B, you had no hope that your father was alive. At first, you didn’t bother voicing that thought, but as time went on, and John B continued to have delusions, you started getting more and more vocal about your opinion. Your dad was dead. Period. 

And it was time that John B accepted that, too. 

The two of you may have been twins, but you were as different as two people could get. John B was, for the most part, quiet, reserved and mild. You, on the other hand, had a fuse shorter than the short end of the stick you had pulled. You were hot headed and often misjudged situations too quickly. John B was the calm before your storm. You preferred to call yourself passionate. You smoked, John B did not. You slept around with far too many tourons. John B did not. John B was a dense motherfucker. You could read the room the moment you walked in. The only thing that really bonded the two of you was your love for surfing, your love for the pogues and your love for your dad.

Now that one of those things had died, or simply “vanished,” as John B would say, all that was keeping your two member family together were the pogues and surfing.

The last few months had been hell, and all you wanted this summer, was to have a good time, all the time.

Speaking of which, you and the pogues had decided to break in the summer with a little rule-breaking. Kiara wanted to check out one of Gary’s new beach-house developments, which was being built right over a turtle habitat. You all shrugged at the suggestion and agreed. 

You threw a can of beer up, JJ catching it instantly, wrinkling his nose when he looked at the label. “This is the shit stuff, Y/N,” he complained. 

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll boot-leg champagne for ya, sweetheart,” you drawled.

JJ winked. “That’s more like it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed two beers to Pope, which he promptly dropped and bent down to grab, dusting himself off, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes, watching as he threw one to John B, who was far too drunk to hold onto it, dropping it on the deck of the house, causing it to burst. 

Before you could comment on Kie’s overly concerned “Please don’t kill yourself,” to John B, you heard voices yelling “Hey! What are you kids doing up there?!”

“Shit,” You said, looking for your hat.

“I second that shit,” said Pope nervously.

John B swiftly made his way down, grabbing Kie’s hand and leading them out, Pope on their heels. 

“Guys, have you seen my-”

Suddenly, you felt something slip over your head, and you smiled up at JJ, who patted the top of your head and pushed you down the stairs and out of the house, all five of you laughing as Gary and his men chased after you.

As John B jumped the fence, he held his hand out to help Kie over, doing the same for you once she made it. You rolled your eyes, slapping his hand away and smoothly making it over yourself.

Pope, as expected, fell over onto the ground as he jumped, JJ shoving him further jokingly. You glared at the boy, and he held his hands up as you helped Pope up, pulling him by the hand into a sprint.

JJ held his hand out of John B’s beat up old van, pulling your laughing body in. Pope closed the door as John B gunned it, but you opened it again, teasing Gary, who was struggling to catch up with you guys. 

You tossed him a beer, which he tried to catch, but failed as he stopped running, his hands on his knees.

JJ laughed as he too leaned out of the van, “They don’t pay you enough, bro!” He yelled to Gary.

Your hair blew in the wind, strands of it tickling JJ’s cheeks. 

He spat overdramatically, coughing, “Hey, uh, Y/N? You mind not choking me with your hair?”

You simply gave him a playful punch in the gut, taking a seat in between Kie’s knees, who was sitting on the bench behind John B.

Kie took your long, wild hair in her hands, taming it into a french braid. JJ watched with a goofy smile on his face, his conversation with Pope getting too boring.

John B drove down to the docks, where you guys took out the HMS Pogue for the rest of the day. You tried to slap the book out of Kie’s hands, holding a freshly rolled blunt out for her to share with you, but she glared at you, turning back to her reading. You noticed Pope doing the same thing.

JJ grabbed the blunt from your hands, lighting it. 

You leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tutting. “Didn’t realize we ran with a bunch of nerds…”

Before Kie and Pope could retort, John B turned around, releasing a pile of freshly caught fish onto the deck of the boat and you cheered. “Nice, John B. We eatin’ good, today.”

“Yeah we are. You’re cooking.”

“I’m what?” 

John B smiled smugly, “I did the catching, you do the cooking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Fine then I’ll also do more of the eating.”

“I never agreed to that,” John B argued.

You turned to him, “And that’s because you’re a greedy, cocksucking parasite and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re here to have fun, you guys,” said Kie, her hands out to the two of you.

“Man, I’d really like to go one day without you guys at each other’s goddamn throats,” Pope groaned.

“Forget the fish, there’s a party tonight. First summer party. We gotta be there,” said JJ.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take a touron dick appointment over fish and chips any day,” you put your hands on your hips, looking at the rest of the pogues.

John B rolled his eyes at your blunt words, while Pope and Kie shrugged, agreeing.

Everyone looked to John B and he sighed before saying, “Yeah, I’m down.”

You all cheered, running over and piling on top of him, laughing.

The party was one of the best you had been to yet. While Kiara got on her soapbox about plastic and the boys were looking for girls to flirt with, you were on the hunt for someone who could make your night count.

As you waited in line at the keg to fill up your cup, the guy behind you spoke up. “You look too good to be hanging around the cut.” He flirted.

Your blood boiled as you turned around to get in this guy’s face. You stopped short once you saw what a nice face it was. You weren’t shallow, just… horny. “Am I now?” You smiled slightly.

He nodded, “Oh yes, too good for North Carolina even. The likes of you belong in Hollywood, babe.”

He had neatly trimmed blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Guess you had a type, after all, you thought fleetingly. 

“Wow, can I get a name, kind stranger?” You flashed your teeth.

“It’s Asher ma’am, and you are?”

You shrugged, handing your cup to the guy near the keg, who handed it back within a second, full. You put your hand on Asher’s cheek, tapping it as one would a small child, “Oh, sweetheart, you gotta earn that.”

Asher’s eyebrows rose, walking with you down the beach. “How might I go about that?” He asked, suggestively.

You smirked. “It’s not how, honey, it’s where.”

And that was all you needed to let this guy rock your world that night.

You woke up alone the next morning in the hammock outside the Chateau, having crashed there after the party. Groaning, you rolled over until you fell on the ground, struggling to pick yourself up. John B appeared out of nowhere, helping you up.

He handed you some water, which you downed immediately, his hand on your back.

“You alright, kid?” He asked. You nodded, “Yeah, I just need a shower like yesterday,” You moaned. 

John B nodded, slapping your shoulder. “Next time don’t drink so much, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you walked inside. You were heading to the bathroom when you passed John B’s bedroom. You noticed JJ, half-naked and leaning over some blonde on your brother’s bed, his forehead practically touching hers. He noticed you instantly. Some emotion flashed across his face before he glared. “Dude, come on. Get outta here,” he said and you smirked.

“Get some, JJ,” you encouraged, barely dodging the pillow he hurled at you as you shut the door.

As you walked into the bathroom, you couldn’t understand why your stomach lurched when you thought about what JJ was probably doing with that blonde in John B’s bed. You shrugged, it was probably just the alcohol.

That afternoon, you and John B had an appointment with social services, who basically confirmed that you two would be put in foster care after they confirmed that your uncle wasn’t home to look after you two tomorrow.

As John B expected, you didn’t take it well. To your credit, you kept it together in the social worker’s office, but you practically had a meltdown the moment you stepped foot outside.

“How can they just fucking take us away! What did we even do wrong? It’s not our fucking fault Uncle T decided to split! Can’t they see that we’re better off on our goddamn own, John B?!” 

John B shrugged. “Not much we can do, Y/N. It’s the law.” 

At that, your breaths came even faster, “But it’s not fair, John B! What if-What if they split us up?” You were almost hyperventilating now, pulling your own hair.

John B furrowed his eyebrows, pulling you into a hug. “They’re not going to do that. I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N, you hear me?”

You pushed him away from you, “We’ll see, John B.”

The two of you caught a break. Hurricane Agatha came in the same day DCS was supposed to do your assessment. Your mind immediately went to the sick waves that would be forming. You tugged on John B’s shirt, pulling him away from the TV, “Call DCS and call them to reschedule. And then grab your surfboard.” Your grin stretched across your whole face, your eyes probably wild.

John B looked confused, then concerned. “You can’t be serious. There’s a hurricane?”

“Dead serious.” You crossed your arms. “Like you can resist these waves.”

John B shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you ran out to the ocean, the dark clouds and harsh winds not fazing you, Pope having bailed on you guys, claiming that these weren’t surfable waves. 

As you surfed the waves, constantly getting wiped out due to their sheer size and speed, you couldn’t help the thought: Did a wave like this kill Dad?

John B tried to surf a few waves, but he lacked not only your skill, but also your tenacity. He gave up and simply watched you from his seat on his board. 

When you noticed a clearly fancy boat being tossed around in the waves, you pointed it out to John B, who squinted, trying to make it out. He agreed that it was strange. Who would go out in a storm like this?

The next morning, after surveying the damage that Agatha had caused, John B suggested that you guys go fishing, given the likeliness that there would be a whole lot of fish to catch in the marsh today.

Happy to put off cleaning up for a day and high on the fact that DCS wouldn’t be able to catch a ferry down here for at least a couple of days, you agreed. 

After practically kidnapping Pope from his dad and picking up Kiara, the five of you drove down to the marsh, Pope steering. 

Giggling, you pulled JJ by the hand up to the bow of the HMS Pogue and handed him one of the beers that Kiara had brought. He smirked and held it up along with you as he shouted for Pope to go faster. Pope groaned. “We’ve tried this like six thousand times.”

You shook your head. “I’ve got this. It’s gonna work.”

And it did. Kind of. You and JJ were downing your beers, Kiara complaining that it was getting in your hair. You looked over at JJ from your peripheral and smiled slightly at his silly face, mouth open like a fish as he attempted to get all of the beer that was being hurled out of the bottle.

Until the boat lurched to a sudden stop, catapulting you and JJ into the air. You felt your entire body flip as you fell into the water with a loud crash, water surrounding your ears. You broke the surface immediately, blinking against the sunlight. “Fuuuck,” you groaned.

You felt JJ reach you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You good?” You nodded at him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

John B called out, “You good, Y/N? JJ?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ groaned.

You swam back to the boat, JJ right behind you. “Pope, what did you do?” You asked.

Pope looked as confused as the rest of you guys. “Sandbar. Channel changed.”

As you made it onto the boat, JJ pulled himself up, too, saying, “No shit.”

As your clothes were soaked, you slid your shorts and t-shirt off, leaving you in your teal halter bikini. 

You didn’t miss how JJ’s eyes dragged up your figure, his ears turning pink when he reached your eyes and realized you noticed. 

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you turned to Pope, who had his eyes on something in the water.

“Guys...I think there’s a boat down there,” He said.

John B scoffed, “Shut up.”

Kie smiled, “No way.”

But Pope didn’t let up, “No, no, guys. I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.”

You all leaned over the side of the boat and sure enough, there was a large shadow, vague, but obviously in the shape of the hull of a boat.

“Holy shit. He’s right; let’s go!” You said, jumping into the water. 

As you swam towards the shadow, you heard Pope muse, “You think there’s a dead body down there?”

You couldn’t stop your subconscious from immediately thinking Dad.

You almost threw up at the thought of stumbling across your own father’s drowned corpse.

But you knew that if that was the case, you would handle it far better than John B. You swam faster, trying to get down there before him.

The five of you made your way to the boat, your eyebrows raising against the water as you saw what kind of boat it was. This was a rich guy’s boat for sure. You recognized it as the boat from yesterday. You all took a peek inside, but couldn’t make out a body. You sighed aloud, bubbles releasing in the water. 

As you guys resurfaced, you all laughed. 

“That’s a Grady-White,” JJ laughed in shock, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You guys climbed back into the boat. John B gave you a look. “That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kie looked confused. “You surfed the surge.”

You smirked. “Well… I surfed the surge. John B mostly just watched.” Your brother rolled his eyes but he didn’t correct you.

JJ was getting on the boat when he heard you say that and his entire face lit up. “Yeah, that’s my girl, pogue style,” he said, giving you a high-five. 

You grinned back, your stomach involuntarily tumbling at the words my girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. Kie noticed, shooting you a look.

You blushed, looking away.

Pope asked, “Wait, wait, do we know who’s boat that is?”

John B opened the hatch on the deck of the boat, looking for the anchor inside. “No. but we’re about to find out.”

JJ shook his head, “Dude, it’s too deep.”

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ,” John B said.

“Well, I’m not resuscitating you. I’m just making that clear up front.”

You worried that there could still be a body down there. Your father’s body. John B couldn’t see that. Plus, something about the thought of diving felt like a challenge. You took the anchor from John B’s hands. “I’ll go,” You said.

“What the fuck, no Y/N,” said John B.

JJ grabbed your upper arm, “Yeah, not a good idea,” he said.

You shook him off lightly. “I’m doing it,” you insisted.

JJ shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t mind resuscitating you,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t even know how.”

JJ smirked, “Yeah, but I have experience with-”

Pope interjected as you walked to the edge. “Diver down, fool,” he shook his head in slight disappointment. But then again, when was Pope not disappointed in you?”

JJ came over to you. Looking you hard in the eyes, he gave you a questioning look. You steeled your eyes. “I’m ready.”

He smirked, “You better be.” He gave you a shove on your shoulders, pushing you backwards off the bow of the boat and you could hardly hear him say “Diver down,” and John B say, “The fu-” before the water hit you, swallowing you whole as you quickly sunk with the weight of the anchor.

Masterlist

[obxlife]

Complicated (JJ x Reader)

A/N: I’m back! After like four months of not writing ANYTHING I have finally decided to write something. This idea just popped into my head, honestly, but I think I’ll be taking requests again soon (maybe not, I’m still not sure). Anyways, enjoy!

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Word count: 4385

Request: -

Summary: The ups and downs of your relationship with JJ.

Warnings: Underage drinking, mentions of hooking up and maybe some other sexual acts (NO SMUT). Swearing probably. Oh, also, I tried wirting in third person so let me know if it’s as good as second person!

COMPLICATED

Feelings sucked. Just ask Y/N Y/L/N about it.

The empty cup in her hand weighed her arm down as she rested it upon her knee, her chest and body leaning forward closer to the bonfire that burned before her. Her free hand was tracing random figures onto her thigh, trying but failing to distract her mind from what she was witnessing across the beach.

The kegger was in full swing, and normally by now she would have been at least three drinks in, but her mood had turned sour the instant the rim of her first cup touched her lips.

She didn’t want to talk about it - hell, she didn’t even want to think about it - but JJ was right there in front of her line of sight flirting with another girl from the Cut. And to make matters worse, it was the one girl from the Cut which she couldn’t stand. Her childhood best friend, Matilda Garner. 

Y/N let out a big sigh, which caught Pope’s attention. He turned away from the girl he had been speaking to and looked at Y/N, noticing her frown and the furrow between her eyebrows. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, although he already had figured out the answer. All he did was follow Y/N’s unwavering eyes towards their blond friend.

“Nothing,” she tried to lie knowing she would fail. Pope had always had a way of figuring everything out, which explained why he was the only Pogue that knew exactly what was going on between her and JJ. 

“Y/N...,” Pope began. He didn’t continue speaking until the girl before him removed her eyes from Matilda’s obvious flirting attempts towards JJ. “You should just tell him.”

“Why the hell would I do that, Pope? It would completely ruin our relationship,” she explained. Y/N felt panic rise within her just at the thought of confessing what she truly felt to JJ.

“Look, even if JJ does not feel the same way you feel about him, it would probably make you feel better.”

“That doesn’t make sense at all, Pope,” Y/N replied moving her eyes to the floor. She pretended to count the grains of sand that were seeping through her toes as Pope continued to explain his thoughts on the topic.

“It does too! I just think it’s unfair for you to be carrying this around. He’s totally using you and like, fine, you were using him at first too, but now you feel stuff and you’re hurting.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I prefer hurting than being without him.”

“Without who?” Kiara’s voice rang behind them. The two teenagers turned around towards the voice, surprised that she wasn’t flirting some Touron up like she normally would. “JJ?”

Y/N groaned. “How does everybody know about me and JJ?”

“That you guys are secretly-not-secretly hooking up?”

The girl groaned again. 

“It is kind of obvious though,” Pope explained. “You guys would randomly leave when we were hanging out and then we could hear you guys through the Chateau.”

“What?” Y/N practically screamed. “I thought we were being quiet though.”

“Think again, Y/N,” Kie said while taking a seat right next to her. “So are you finally going to tell him that you like him?”

The girl in question just rolled her eyes before stepping away from the log where she was perched. She looked towards her blond friend-with-benefits one last time before heading towards the keg, where John B was surely too drunk to ask her about JJ and sober enough to distract her.

**********************************************************************

JJ was nowhere to be seen. It was the third time that week that he skipped the Pogue hang out and the person everyone had expected to know where he was at the moment was just as lost as the rest of them.

“But JJ always tells you where he goes in hopes that you’ll call him to hook up later.”

“Well, I don’t know where he is,” Y/N replied. She hadn’t heard from the blond in about two weeks, ever since the kegger where he had been flirting with Matilda Garner. “He stopped texting me a while back.”

“Really?” John B inquired while looking up from his phone. It chimed once again with a message (probably from Sarah), but he ignored it. “That’s weird.”

Y/N’s furrowed eyebrows showed her slight confusion towards the teenage boy, but this only lasted a few seconds before Kiara declared that they should just leave without JJ.

They didn’t arrive back at the Chateau until the very late afternoon, and both Pope and Kiara rushed off (not without saying goodbye, of course) because they had to help their parents with their respective businesses. John B and Y/N trudged towards the front door as they waved to the other two teens.

“I’m so tired,” Y/N exclaimed as she placed her bag onto the table and the cooler she held in her other hand onto the floor. She opened it up and began to take out the empty beer cans and plastic bottles so that she could throw them out in the recycling bin that Kie had bought a couple of months ago. John B leaned down to help her, leaving his phone on the table next to her bag. 

“Same,” the boy replied. “I did not think that we were going to be out that long.”

The girl was about to speak out her agreement when the back door suddenly burst open and in came JJ with a dazed smile. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to apologize for having skipped out on the afternoon activity he had promised he would attend.

“Hey, man,” John B greeted while Y/N focused her eyes on the can in her hand. She pretended to read the label while she secretly began to listen in on the two boys’ soon-to-be conversation. 

“Hey,” JJ replied almost in a sigh. The toothy grin on his face had not faltered one bit, and Y/N had a feeling she knew exactly what that meant.

Suddenly feeling as if the walls of the fishing shack were closing in on her, the girl grabbed onto her bag and placed it over her shoulder.

“Well, I’m out,” she exclaimed. “Gotta go help my mom out.”

She began to head towards the same door JJ had just entered through a while ago when she was stopped by a hand that wrapped around her arm, just below her elbow.

“Wait, Y/N, I actually wanted to talk to you,” the blond surfer said as if only just realizing she was there. The girl nodded her head and turned to face him, but his eyes darted towards the outside. She knew what that meant, so she turned and exited the small house after saluting John B one last time.

JJ headed straight for the hammocks while Y/N followed suit, wondering what exactly JJ was about to tell her.

“So...,” the boy began. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The girl rolled her eyes. She wanted to say that it was JJ’s fault that he hadn’t seen her. but instead, she went straight to the point. “What do you want, JJ?”

“Um, so I don’t want you to feel bad or anything because you’re my best friend and you’re really cool,” he rushed, almost as if he had memorized the exact words he was going to say and he was going through them before he would completely forget them.

Y/N ignored the slight pang in her chest she felt at the words ‘best friend’.

“And, trust me, I loved sleeping around with you but we have to stop.”

The girl’s face fell. The blond noticed this.

“It’s not that you’re bad in bed or anything like that. It’s just I really like this girl, I think you know her. Her name’s Matilda and -”

Y/N wasn’t listening anymore. Each word JJ spoke made her feel worse and worse and worse. What was the worst she had ever felt? Now, with JJ confessing his love for her ex best friend. And the worst part about it? She wasn’t even mad at him. He had no clue she was completely in love with him and he had no clue she absolutely loathed Matilda. She was just disappointed in herself. How could she have been so stupid to fall for her best friend?

However, she tried to not let it show on her face. If she were with anybody else, she would not have pulled her act off, but JJ was oblivious and believed everything that was said to him when it came from Y/N.

“That’s fine. I’m really happy for you.”

“Really? That’s great because -”

Once again the girl pretended to listen to his words instead of the sound of her heart breaking. Soon enough, she realized she couldn’t take it anymore, and she interrupted JJ.

“Hey, I’m really tired and I need to go help my mom.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you were staying the night,” he said with a bit of sadness in his eyes. He was almost bursting at the seams with excitement to tell her all about Matilda.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Tomorrow?”

The boy nodded as the girl finally hugged him and turned around. She wiped the tear that slid down her cheek and promised herself that she would be able to build up her armor again for tomorrow.

*********************************************************************************

It wasn’t long before Matilda began to hang around the Pogues and Y/N began to do so less and less. They all knew what was wrong with Y/N except for JJ, who would ask about her every once in a while. He never seemed to get a straight answer.

Meanwhile, Y/N hung out with the Pogues individually in places where she knew JJ wouldn’t be. The library, the ice cream shop right on the edge of the Cut, the church’s parking lot, anywhere. No matter how many months had passed since he got together with Matilda, she just wasn’t over him. She began to believe that she never would be over him.

When school began it became obvious to JJ that she was avoiding the Pogues. She was hanging out with a completely different group of kids, and although JJ didn’t know them, he already sort of hated them for stealing his best friend.

Matilda was a good distraction from this problem though, and JJ never actually had enough time to confront Y/N about it, so he didn’t.

However, when he noticed Marcus Lakes hanging around Y/N more and more often, he began to worry.

Y/N didn’t really think of Marcus as more than a friend though. She was still hung up on JJ, and she really hadn’t spent enough time with Marcus to actually begin to feel anything. In fact, her relationship with Marcus was just a series of coincidences that only amounted to them being partners in many school projects together. Y/N truly believed that once they were over, he would leave her alone. 

But he didn’t. No, instead he spent even more time with her, and although the girl wasn’t used to this type of attention, she enjoyed it. She found herself entranced within the brunett’s conversations and thrilled when he invited her out for dinner.

Soon enough, they were dating, and Y/N had never been happier. For once in her life, she felt like someone’s first choice. She felt great not being a simple replacement or a filler. She loved being important - even if it wasn’t to the boy she still secretly loved.

In all honesty, she knew she would never fully be over JJ. Like ever. But she did truly like Marcus. Maybe even love. And she spent many nights wondering if that made her a bad person. 

She soon concluded that it didn’t. She related her situation to those of adults whose spouses died and they carried on loving both their deceased love and their new living one. The only difference in her case was that JJ wasn’t dead.

After a few months of dating Marcus, Y/N finally built up the courage to hang out with the Pogues again. She felt strong enough to encounter them even if JJ was with them, and besides, Marcus would be there with her.

And so on a cold, winter day, she headed down her dock with her hand entwined with her boyfriend’s before stepping onto John B’s boat. The Pogues all greeted her with hugs as if she had never left, and Y/N understood the underlying message behind them. We get it, they said. You don’t have to say you’re sorry.

The best part of that afternoon was that JJ was there but Y/N soon realized that she wasn’t truly nervous about that. In fact, he had also hugged her as the old friends they had once bee - or maybe still were? Y/N was kind of confused about that. However, she realized that maybe Marcus was actually helping her get over her past love, and she didn’t really mind spending time with the Pogues as she did before.

JJ wasn’t happy though. At all.

For some reason, he was absolutely pissed when he saw Y/N at her dock with Marcus by her side. Why did he have to be there? Marcus wasn’t their friend, Y/N was. And she had no right bringing him. He thought the afternoon was supposed to be a Pogues-only hang out. They had even left Sarah out!

JJ soon realized that the way he was feeling must have been the way the Pogues felt when he brought Matilda along at the start of his relationship. And he realized that they had all sucked the bad feelings up for him and put a smile on their faces. So that was exactly what he did as he greeted Y/N and Marcus.

“Hey, I missed you,” JJ whispered into Y/N’s ear when he hugged her. She giggled and tapped his chest lightly when she pulled back. His heart skipped a beat at that feeling, but he pretended he didn’t feel it.

As she turned away JJ realized that Y/N never said he missed him.

**********************************************************************************

In the middle of May, JJ called Y/N near one o’clock in the morning. 

“Hello?” she had asked groggily into the phone.

“Y/N,” he sniffled a bit. The girl piqued up once she realized that he had been crying.

“JJ, what’s wrong?”

“Matilda and I had a fight. I think we’re done.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered, but she forced it to settle down. She instead invited the broken-hearted boy to her house and promised he could stay with her that night.

Y/N, and the rest of the Pogues as well, had seen this break up coming. JJ and Matilda had been fighting for weeks on end, sometimes even inside of the Chateau when they (the Pogues) were on the other side of the walls. Y/N tried to stay awake as she waited for JJ to arrive, knocking on her window as he would do when they used to hook up.

God, that seems like so long ago, the girl thought.

Soon enough, the blond surfer was outside her window, tears still running down his face. He let himself be embraced by his best friend as he cried and cried and kept crying until the very early hours of the morning.

“Thanks,” he whispered when he had finally settled down. He wouldn’t confess this to her, but most of his recent fights with Matilda had been about Y/N. About how she was his best friend and how she always seemed to be around. How Matilda would always bad mouth her relentlessly and about how JJ couldn’t stand or understand that (“Y/N’s so nice, what do you mean I can’t hang out with her?”). Secretly, he was glad his relationship was finally over.

“You’re welcome, J,” she whispered back, eyes barely open. JJ felt his heart bounce in his chest at the nickname he hadn’t heard her call him in so long. A smile stretched across his lips as he buried his face into the girl’s pillows in an attempt to keep his grin hidden from her view.

Before Y/N could fall asleep, she reminded herself that she shouldn’t sleep with JJ in the same bed. After all, she had a boyfriend. So, as slowly as she could, she stood up and grabbed a pillow, placing it on the ground. As she lay across her carpet and grabbed the blanket that was on top of her bed, she heard JJ ask, “What are you doing?”

“Sleeping” she sighed as the quilt fell atop of her body and enveloped her in heat.

“On the floor? Why?”

She hummed softly before speaking in a soft grumble. “I have a boyfriend, J.”

The boy felt really lonely all of a sudden. He wanted to be able to cuddle Y/N like they used to do before he was with Matilda, like when he was sad about his father or some other shit. He didn’t know why he felt almost angry at the fact that he couldn’t hold onto his best friend like he used to.

“So no cuddles like old times?” he asked in an attempt to make Y/N feel guilty enough to join him. But she just shook her head. “I have a boyfriend, JJ.”

JJ tried to come up with something else to get her back in the bed. He didn’t even want to have sex with her, he just wanted to be able to hold her.

“So you’re going to sleep on the floor?”

“Would you rather sleep here?”

“No, but it’s your house,” the blonde tried to be as gentleman-ish as possible.

“Then I’m staying here. Besides, you need the bed more than I do. Your night was pretty rough.”

With that, she turned around and fell asleep. JJ tried to do the same but failed.

The following morning, Y/N was up and out of the house before the blond teenager even woke up. When he finally opened his eyes he read the note she left for him on the bedside table. He groaned when he realized she was going to be out with Marcus for the whole day.

Just great. Fucking great.

************************************************************

If there even was a God and he could see JJ now, he’d probably be laughing.

The boy was seated on a log, a red solo cup in his hands, as he stared at Y/N across the beach. His other hand was tracing figures on his thigh as his mind was occupied with what he was seeing. Marcus’s hand was wrapped around her waist as they both dancing. He let out a sigh before Pope turned to look at him, an exact mirror of Y/N’s situation from a year ago. 

“What’s wrong?” Pope asked although he already knew. He had noticed JJ staring at Y/N more often these past few months after he had broken things off with Matilda.

“Nothing,” the blond surfer lied as he brought the cup in his hand up to his lips.

“JJ...”

“I know, I know,” the boy in questions answered before his friend could even speak what his thoughts were on the matter. “She’s with someone else, I get it.”

Pope hummed as he stared at Y/N as well. He noticed how her smile was the biggest he had ever seen it, and he pondered over telling JJ how she had felt just last year about him. 

“You know,” he began to say, still not knowing if it was a good idea to confess what he was going to mention. “She had a thing for you last year. When you guys were hooking up.”

JJ’s eyes widened. “She what? Wait, you know we used to hook up?”

Pope scoffed. “We all knew, JJ. And yeah, she did. That’s why she distanced herself when you got together with Matilda. Well, that and the fact that Matilda used to be her best friend when they were little.”

JJ couldn’t believe it. Everything was making so much sense.

“That makes so much sense.”

Pope just nodded. “Yeah, she was pretty heartbroken about it.”

“Who was heartbroken?” a voice asked from behind them.

The boys turned to find Kiara standing there, with a cup in her hands. She moved to take the spot on JJ’s side that wasn’t occupied by Pope as the dark-skinned boy answered, “Y/N.”

“Last year? Yeah, she was. It’s good she found Marcus though. He makes her happy.”

“I guess,” JJ whispered bitterly.

Kie’s eyes widened when she noticed the blond’s tone of voice. “Don’t tell me you like her now. You do know she was heartbroken about you, right?”

JJ simply rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed scoff. “Yeah, I do now. And karma finally got to me by cursing me with the exact same fate as her.”

His tone of voice was burlesque, and he quickly stood up from the log and headed away from the beach, hoping that he would be able to find John B to distract himself.

Life seemed to have a funny way of working and JJ hated it. What he hated was that everything was just so complicated, and not even his feelings could line up at the same time with the one girl that he finally realized was perfect for him.

He glanced at her once again. Each dance move Y/N executed made him feel worse and worse and worse. What was the worst he had ever felt? Now, with Marcus wrapped around her and him standing far away. And the worst part about it? He wasn’t - he couldn’t - even be mad at her. She had no clue he was completely in love with her. He was just mad at himself. How could he have been so stupid to fall for a girl that was taken?

He did what he did best to forget. He downed the cup of alcohol in his hand.

******************************************************************************************

JJ felt like he was in a personal torture chamber except the chamber was the whole island and the torture was Y/N talking about her boyfriend. 

By now, the Pogues had started pitying JJ the same way they had pitied Y/N before she got with Marcus, but this time, they didn’t want to say anything because she was apparently extremely happy with her current boyfriend. 

So JJ just spent most of his days looking at Y/N from afar and trying to ignore Marcus while pretending everything was fine.

And then, finally, after months of being tortured, it all ended.

Marcus had cheated on Y/N. And with no one else but Matilda.

To say she was utterly pissed was an understatement. And honestly, this had surprised her. She originally thought she was going to be completely devasted, but after the first round of tears that came with the shock of finding them in her own bed, Y/N was fine. Just pissed, but other than that, fine.

And JJ? Oh, he was over the moon. He couldn’t believe that everything had lined up so perfectly in his favor that he was finally going to be able to be with Y/N, the girl f his dreams. But just as fast as his happy feeling came, it disappeared when he realized that Y/N’s strategy for moving on was hooking up with Tourons and then telling him about it.

In between all of the madness that followed the weeks after her break up, Y/N never once stopped to think about what she was doing. She spent three weeks absolutely getting wasted at every single party she attended and leaving them with a new boy in her hand. And later, when she washed up once again, she would head straight over to her blond best friend and tell him everything about it, not noticing the sad eyes with which he would listen.

When school started once again, JJ was trying to ignore her in hopes that he would stop listening to her awful hookup stories. And it was around this time that Y/N realized he was avoiding her and how much she truly missed him.

And so once again she began to pin after JJ without him even realizing it. 

As their feelings began to grow once again (because they finally just started hanging around each other without talking about their past sex lives), Pope was the first to notice their heart-shaped eyes and saccharine words. 

And thank God he did, because the two Pogues whose hearts belonged to each other were way too naive to notice.

It had been a random Tuesday night when Pope had spilled the beans and sent JJ into a frenzied rush towards Y/N’s house. His frantic pounding on her window pulled her out of her studying as her wide eyes locked with him. She opened the window and let the boy she loved inside, smiling at him in greeting and putting a finger up to her lips.

Before she could actually talk, however, the boy kissed her, taking her by such surprise that she almost bit down on his lip. Luckily, she caught herself before she did so.

And as their lips touched each other and her eyes closed, she swore she could see the entire universe. Every star and every light shined before her while her thin arms wrapped around the back of his neck and cherished the moment she had been craving for since she had fallen in love with JJ once again. Her stomach was doing jumping jacks and burpees just as JJ’s tongue began to dance across her own. When they finally surfaced for air, JJ bit her lip as softly as he could before opening his eyes and staring right back into hers.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for like, seven months now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you do it again?”

And so he did. Again and again and again.

That night, after they had undressed and shown each other just how in love they truly were, Y/N sighed in happiness and relief that their relationship would never have to be complicated again.

*********************************************************

A/N: I was loving this fic but then it just became sort of meh, but I feel like I have to post it because I still like it, you know?

[darter-blue]

okay so I reached 300 followers today - and in appreciation for putting up with me and my silly blog you all get a little gift!

Here is 2k words of Stucky fluff just for you, dear followers. Thanks for all your love.

Worth it

Bucky is pretty sure that this was a terrible idea. Every single date he’s ever been on in his life has been a disaster. How he could have possibly been persuaded to believe that not one date but twenty dates, in succession, in increments of ten minutes a pop - speed dating, his best friend had called it with a smile intended to deceive, but torture, might be a better descriptive - would be in any way a good idea is beyond him. It felt like extreme dating in the same way that ironing over a cliff face was extreme ironing, dangerous and nauseating. And Bucky had always preferred to just live with the wrinkles thanks. Anything that required more care than, ‘stick it in the dryer on high and wear it immediately’, was not a piece of clothing that ever made it past the first wash. 

He felt kind of the same about dating.

Anyway. However he looked at it, this was not the ‘opportunity to meet someone great’ he had been promised. This was just a faster, more efficient way for Bucky to get stepped on. To meet people who saw his looks and smiled and then spent the remainder of the date growing increasingly disappointed with the reality of his personality.

Well. At the very least, Nat was going to owe him that fifty bucks. Because not one of the guys he had met so far would ever put Bucky down as a potential match. 

But finally it feels like, after too many beers and way too many sweaty, lingering hand shakes, Bucky has finally been through all twenty dates. And thank god. So far, over the course of the night, he’s been told he should speak up more, to smile more, to put his hair up, to sit straighter, to talk less about math, and to seriously reconsider his fashion choices. He is so fucking ready to go home he has his keys already in his hand. But while he drains the last of his bottle and prepares to get up from his chair and run (before the speed dating organiser can grab him for his card and his ‘insights’), someone new sits down gracefully into the seat opposite him.

Somebody he doesn’t remember from the introductions.

And he’s looking up from where tight blue jeans around thick thighs have slid into the seat, up to a broad chest in a t-shirt that has to be two sizes too small, up to shoulders so wide they could carry a bus, and up, up, up to the most beautiful face Bucky has ever seen in real life. Or at all, in anything maybe.

It’s ridiculously unfair how attractive this man is.

His dark blond hair is long and swept back. His skin is golden against a dark, full beard that frames his high cheekbones and pink lips. His eyes are the kind of blue that only exists in magazines. And he’s smiling. A real, enthusiastic smile. 

At Bucky.

Bucky looks down to make sure he’s been drinking light beer - and not something heavy enough to have him hallucinating. The label is just the cheap crappy stuff that the dating company provided. Doesn’t mean it hasn’t been spiked, though, he doesn’t feel dizzy.

He looks back up at the guy and he seems to have deflated a little at Bucky’s less than stellar response. Which… well, that’s basically the story of his life.

Bucky raises an eyebrow but chooses not to say anything (what would he even say, besides hello. Okay hello would be a good start. But he’d just mumble it anyway. And fuck it up like he always does)

But the guy is not deterred.

‘Hey,’ he says, dialling the smile back up, ‘How’s it going?’

Bucky looks at the guy, this perfect, gorgeous guy, looks around for the moderator, at the other daters, at the general public inhabiting the rest of the bar, and tries to figure out whether he’s being punked or something.

‘Umm…’ Bucky looks back to the guy and tries to find a word, any word, to help him figure out what is happening. ‘Hi?’ His brain is apparently not cooperating.

‘Hi,’ the guy replies, his smile, somehow, getting brighter as he does. He holds a hand out across the table to Bucky, long, strong fingers, and a wide palm. Perfectly manicured fingernails. And how are even his hands beautiful. ‘I’m Steve.’

Bucky reaches out his own hand, nails bitten down and blue ink stained into the cracks, shaking the outstretched palm and feeling himself want to linger in the warmth and softness of the guy’s shake. ‘Bucky.’

‘Bucky?’

‘Nickname,’ Bucky says automatically. But the guy doesn’t seem put off by the tone. If anything, his smile seems to widen at the answer.

‘It’s cute,’ the guy, Steve, says with a low, husky laugh, ‘Bucky.’

‘Umm… thanks?’ Bucky says, raising his eyebrow even further. ‘You don’t... ‘ he starts, and then clears his throat, the nerves getting to him, making his throat itchy, ‘I don’t remember you from the introductions.’

‘Oh yeah, no. I’m not part of the group,’ Steve says with a wave of his hand, dismissing the notion, ‘I’m here with some friends.’ He gestures to a bunch of guys at the bar, looking like some kind of movie star football team, pretending not to be watching their buddy do… whatever it is Steve is doing here.

‘Are you… Did you need something, or…’ Bucky is rambling now, nervous as to what Steve might be doing if he’s not here for a torturous ten minute date.

‘Your number?’ Steve says, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow of his own.

‘My what?’ Bucky says without thinking.

‘Your phone number?’ Steve repeats, looking a little less cocky now, ‘You know, so I could call you sometime.’

And Bucky is frozen for a moment, his mouth open, his eyebrows raised. Probably not a good look at all. He snaps his mouth shut and tucks a strand of his dark wavy shoulder length hair behind an ear. Buying himself some time. ‘You aren’t part of the speed dating group?’

‘Uh-uh,’ Steve says, shaking his head.

‘You’re here with your friends?’ Bucky asks, trying to pin this all down. 

Steve nods.

‘And you just came over here to get my number?’

‘I did.’

‘My number?’ Bucky asks incredulously. 

‘Absolutely.’ Steve says. And that tone leaves no room for argument. 

It sends a little shiver down Bucky’s spine to be honest. The first time all night he’s felt any flash of heat.

‘Why?’ Bucky asks. He knows you're not supposed to ask that. But, well, Bucky certainly wouldn’t be here if he was any good at meeting people, flirting, or being on a date in the first place.

‘Hmm…’ Steve says, placing one lovely finger against his bottom lip in mock contemplation. ‘Let me see. I’ve been sitting over there,’ he points back to his recently abandoned spot at the bar, ‘Watching losers come and go from this table all night,’ Steve drops his hand and leans forward, ‘Asking you the stupidest fucking questions I’ve ever heard asked, talking over you,’ he’s picking up speed now and Bucky is helplessly fascinated by the way Steve’s blue eyes are almost glowing with fervour, ‘Not appreciating one goddamn thing you’ve had to say. Not laughing at that hilarious crack about obtuse angles, and not treating you with the kind of reverence that you deserve.’

Bucky is watching Steve rant about how awful his dates have been, hears him unabashedly complimenting his math humour, feels his genuine affability crash over him, and it starts to hit Bucky that maybe this guy is actually serious.

Maybe this glorious man is actually interested in asking Bucky on a real fucking date.

‘Also,’ Steve says, Bucky suddenly and sharply focused back to his words as Steve’s voice drops to a sinfully deep register, ‘You are definitely the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen in my life.’

And whoa.

Bucky blinks. And tilts his head in confusion. He can’t be serious… can he?

‘You came to a speed dating night in a sweater vest. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more adorable.’

‘You’re joking,’ Bucky says. Because every single person who sat down at his table tonight, once they got past the long hair and the pretty face, had bemoaned his choice of outfit for the evening. (Even Nat had told him to lose the vest).

‘I am deadly serious,’ Steve says. And the heat in his eyes as he looks at Bucky is evidence of his sincerity.

‘You know I’m a total nerd.’

‘I can tell that you’re brilliant,’ Steve counters, ‘You’re like a mathematical genius.’

‘I talk to my pot plants,’ Bucky says, leaning forward in his seat.

‘I love that,’ Steve says without hesitation, smile growing wider by the second, ‘You can’t scare me away Bucky.’

‘I’m not trying to scare you,’ Bucky says, and it’s true, ‘I’m just trying to preempt your eventual disappointment.’

But Steve is shaking his head. He laughs that low husky laugh and looks up at Bucky through beautifully dark, long eyelashes. ‘A, I could not be disappointed by you if you tried, and B, can I get your number? Cause I’d really like to call you.’

Bucky can feel himself smiling, by some minor miracle. He can feel a flush spread through his cheeks. He can see the other daters getting up to hand over their cards. None of them have spared a glance back at Bucky, though plenty of them have given Steve a second look. 

He looks back to Steve, who’s now pouting his pink lips at Bucky, just enough to make Bucky actually laugh out loud. ‘Yeah, okay, sure. You can have my number,’ Bucky says, accepting Steve’s phone as he hands it over and adding himself in the contacts as ‘Math nerd - Bucky’ really wanting to make sure Steve remembers what he’s getting himself into if he ever actually tries to call him. 

Steve takes his phone back and immediately calls the number, Bucky can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out to show Steve that it's ringing, and Steve shrugs his giant shoulders and laughs again. ‘Just checking.’

‘Well-’ Bucky says.

‘So-’ Steve says at the same time.

They both laugh, but Bucky gestures for Steve to go first.

‘I was just ah, wondering if you might be free right now?’

And oh, Bucky’s heart skips a little at the question. And the hopeful, nervous look that Steve is giving him right now. He looks down at his watch. It’s ten, but it’s Saturday tomorrow. He has no classes. Nowhere to be. 

‘Yes,’ Bucky says, and Steve breathes out with a smile, ‘I’m free now.’

‘Great let me just…’ Steve gestures back to his friends and Bucky nods. 

He’s expecting Steve to just drag him over to the group and maybe buy him another beer. But Steve is waving to his friends, slapping a few shoulders, laughing and ducking his head. He’s grabbing his jacket and jogging back to Bucky.

‘You like ice cream?’ He asks Bucky as he reaches him.

‘Yeah, I like ice cream,’ Bucky replies, tilting his head, still a little confused but mostly charmed by this gorgeous, strangely sweet man he’s just met.

‘Cool. I know this great ice cream place.’ And he takes Bucky’s hand to lead him through and out of the bar. Past the daters and the organisers who are looking at him with surprise. Smiling back at Bucky as he checks to make sure he’s got everything.

And something in Bucky is melting.

But also he’s a little pissed.

Cause it looks like he’s going to have to fork out that fifty bucks to Nat after all.

Only one more look at the guy who’s got his hand in his soft warm grip and Bucky can’t even be mad. It’s totally worth it.

Steve is totally worth all of it. 

[atombombbibunny]

I Knew Pt 4

hi

This one feels like a filler to me, but it also feels like a crescendo.

I'm already working on the next chapter, I'm hoping I've gotten my mojo back. I appreciated each and every one of you.

Hope you enjoy it!

Words: 1728

Warnings: None

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The next few weeks flew by without much happening, you and Rafael hadn’t picked a date or talked much about the wedding, but you continued to plan things, whether it was written down or just in your head, you couldn’t help but get lost in a daydream each day of what you expected on your special day.

You hadn’t brought up what happened between you and Daveed, you figured that if he was going to talk to anyone about it, it would be Rafael.

But things came to a screeching halt when you came home one evening. “I got a phone call today.” You had barely sat down when he began to explain to you that a studio out in New York reached out with the idea of helping him produce his first album.

Your mind swam in emotion, on one hand you were excited for him to accomplish his dream, but at the same time you knew it would pause all wedding talk, and he would be gone, you couldn’t go with him due to your work.

“Well?” He asked, his eyebrow raised, you hadn’t realized he had asked you something, you knew the gist of what he was asking, he was seeing if you approved or if you were devastated at the idea of what this meant for the two of you.

“That’s amazing news Rafael.” You shifted to lean against his chest, he intertwined your fingers and began to play with your thumb. “When would you leave?” You muttered, listening to his heartbeat, it was rather rough with excitement. You closed your eyes to the rhythmic feeling against your back.

“Next week.” He said, his chin resting against the top of your head. You took in a deep yet somewhat painful breath. “Okay, well, this is happening.” You shifted to look up into his eyes. “Baby-“ He started; you placed a finger against his lips. “Rafael, don’t you even think about not following something you’ve worked so hard for, your going.” He huffed lightly before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you.” He muttered against your skin.

“Me too.”

The rest of the week went by, and with each passing day you could feel the weight of the world begin to rest on your shoulders, with every article of clothing Rafael placed in his luggage you felt the need to beg him to stay. But you never wanted to be someone to hold back someone from their dream, especially Rafael.

You kissed him tenderly, a few stray tears sliding down your cheeks as you dropped him off at the airport, he slid his fingers against your cheek wiping away a tear. You stared into his eyes before a slight smile broke across his face. “I’m going to marry you when I get home.” He muttered before he placed one last soft kiss against your lips. “I love you.” You whispered before he exited the car, he quickly gathered his luggage before turning around at the door of the airport to smile at you and give you a dramatic wave. You let out a choked laugh before waving back at him and pulling away from the drop off section.

That night you fought the urge to text him every second to know if he landed, where he was, who he was meeting up with, how his AirBnB was, if he was tired, if he missed you like you were missing him.

You also fought the urge to call up everyone you knew to cry into the phone.

Instead, you fought to sleep in your empty bed, something you were no longer used to.

As the week passed, you felt somewhat miserable, the dependency of Rafael dancing in the kitchen as you cooked dinner was greatly missed. You called each other any time you had the chance; it was mostly him calling as you never wanted to interrupt his studio time. But you just were no longer used to being alone, especially in the house you two had purchased together.

Rain had poured all Friday evening and you had planned to settle in with a bottle of wine and some kind of movie you know Rafael would never want to watch.

That kind of freedom you enjoyed, although deep down inside you knew he’d watch it with you, he’d just poke holes in the plot.

Right around the Black Cell Tango in Chicago the doorbell rang out into the house, you jumped at the noise, turning to the door almost in fear. You quickly checked the time to see it was almost 10 and although it was a Friday you certainly weren’t expecting someone.

The doorbell rang out again and you carefully removed yourself from the couch, practically tiptoeing over to the door, you knew if you moved quietly enough no one could hear the echoed footsteps. Once at the door you peeked into the peep hole.

The last person you were expecting was him.

You rushed with the lock before opening the door.

He stood there a bit soaked, he wouldn’t meet your eye line.

“Daveed?”

He let out a light huff.

“Can I come in?” He mumbled, his eyes finally meeting yours, you were met with a look of utter heart ache, he looked defeated, bags under his eyes, his voice raw and exhausted.

You moved to the side wordlessly as he inched into your house. You watched as the rain dripped into the house. “Daveed.” You began, he turned, his eyes boring into yours. “Let me get you something warm to wear.” You uttered before rushing up the stairs.

As you grabbed a few things for him including a towel, you placed it all on your bed. You closed your eyes wishing Rafael was here, Daveed and him had been friends longer.

He’d be able to help with something, anything.

But it was up to you. You exhaled deeply as you made your way back down to the living room. The house was dark, only lit by the sliver of moon that came and went with the rolling clouds. Daveed sat still, unmoving.

You watched for a second before you moved into his eyesight, you attempted to passed him the towel and set the clothes off to the side, you knew they wouldn’t fit him perfectly, but it would be better than what he was in now. Daveed’s eyes were unmoving, he was zoned out at nothing as you moved the towel from your hands, placing it on his lap. You then quickly sat on the other side of the couch.

The silence became deafening as you waited for him to speak or move.

“My marriage is over.” He uttered, his eyes staring at nothing, you scanned his face as your heart sank. “Daveed, don’t say that.” You begged as you observed his unmoving state. He finally tore his eyes from nothing to look at you. “Y/N, it is.” He stated.

It had been over a month since Daveed came home from his honeymoon before you had the chance to actually see him.

It was Jasmine’s birthday, and you were a few drinks into the evening. When you had first arrived, Rafael was already there, beer in hand lazing on the couch. He smiled as you entered the house, the two of you only making vague plans to plan a date were still in this supreme awkward phase. Something you were dreading on; this is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

It was getting to the later part of the party, the sun was officially set before Daveed arrived, without Lauren to your surprise.

You smiled when he smiled at you, and you waved at him meekly like you did the night he announced his engagement.

You thought you would have been more excited to see him, you thought you’d be running through the crowd to jump into his arms. But as his eyes softened before he turned to talk to someone you realized that was just something that wouldn’t happen anymore.

Life had changed before your eyes and the man who used to be inseparable from you had become an almost stranger, your other best friend was crazy about you. And you were unsure of everything happening.

None of it had felt real, it felt like a blurry dream with the pace things were going.

After chatting in groups of people and laughing at the few jokes Rafael had spouted, the two of you bumping shoulders every once and a while you began to wonder where the newly married man was. You had to at least tell him you were happy he was home.

You wandered the house with no such luck, and you took a breath before you opened the front door, to your surprise he was there, drinking silently into the night sky.

You paused before speaking, wondering if it was best to leave him, but you bit down the thought. Knowing it was just you being timid to speak to him.

“Hi.” You squeaked out; clearing your throat quickly embarrassed by the noise that burst from your lips. He glanced over his shoulder before he spun around to you, smiling gently. ��Hey.” You began to nervously pick at the label on your bottle. “I just wanted to say, I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.” You looked up at him to see him biting the inside of his lip. “Yeah, I missed you too…”

His eyes burned into yours as you stared at each other silently, you hadn’t realize how close you had gotten to him during the conversation, until you could feel his shuddering breath against your cheek. “Can I stay here tonight?” He practically begged, it took everything in you not to break down into tears at the sound of his broken voice, you leaned forward wrapping your arms around his shoulders, squeezing him gently as you closed your eyes, this scent of him filled your senses for a moment.

“Daveed.” You said breaking the quiet in the house. “What happened?” A thick, tense silence followed your question as you felt his muscles tightened beneath your touch. You could feel his heart pounding against you as his hands slid against and around your back.

You heard him take a deep breath, you could tell his eyes were closed as he gained confidence to speak.

“You.”

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