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canirove · 2 years

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Meu Amor | Chapter 3

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“Looking fancy today” Taylor says as I walk into the office.

“It’s just a dress.”

“You don’t wear dresses at the office unless it is boiling hot. Which it isn’t. And you are wearing perfume! More than usual!”

“It was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t. You have a date tonight, don’t you?”

“Fine, yes. I’m meeting with a friend later today” I say, not in the mood to deal with her questions.

“Male or female?”

“Female. Sarah. A friend from uni.”

“Ok…” she says, not completely buying my story.

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“Miss, over here” someone calls when I step out of the building. It’s a bit after 5 o’clock, and Taylor has thankfully already left. If she caught me right now… “Good evening, miss” the same man says again, opening the car’s door.

“Thank you” I say with a shy smile. Inside, there is someone waiting for me. Rúben. He was in London for an event, asked me to meet him later for a drink, and I couldn’t say no. Why? I still don’t know…

“Hello” he says.

“Hi.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence where I try to look at everything but him, he starts talking again.

“I hope you don’t mind I chose the place where we are going.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” And more silence.

“Your phone is completely charged, sir” the driver says.

“Thank you” Rúben replies, reaching forward to grab it. As he moves, he gets a little closer to me, and I can smell his perfume. My God, it smells so good.

“What perfume are you wearing?” I ask, catching both of us by surprise with my question.

“One by Tom Ford. It was a gift, I don’t know much about it beyond that I like it” he smiles.

“It smells really nice.”

“Thank you. Do you like wearing perfume?”

“I do. But Taylor gets headaches very easily and I can’t wear as much as I like. Today I wore a bit more, and she instantly noticed it.”

“Really? I haven’t noticed anything.”

“It’s probably already worn off” I say, smelling my wrist. “Or not.”

“May I?” he asks, pointing at my arm.

“Sure” I say, moving it towards him. He grabs my hand with one of his, the other slowly lifting the sleeve of my jacket. You would think that a guy smelling your wrist could be a bit creepy, but somehow he’s managed to make it look sexy. Very sexy. Just the slight touch of his fingers on my skin is making me feel really hot. Am I turned on? Yes, I am.

“Yours also smells really nice” he says, letting go of my arm. “Which brand is it?”

“Yves Saint Laurent. The one with Dua Lipa” I say, my voice sounding very weird.

“We are here, sir” the driver announces. And I can’t thank him enough. I need fresh air and to put some distance between me and Rúben, because holy shit.

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“Wow, this place is amazing” I say as we walk into the bar he has picked.

“It is, isn’t it? I first came here for a party and fell in love with it. But wait until you try their non-alcoholic cocktails.”

“You don’t drink, do you? Like alcohol, I mean.”

“I don’t, no. Do you?” he asks as we sit down on a table.

“Nope. Only a sip of champagne during Christmas or the New Year, but it tastes disgusting.”

“I don’t like it either” he says, laughing and making my stomach do a flip when I hear him.

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“You were so right about those cocktails!” I say when we leave the bar. “If they weren’t extremely expensive, I would come here at least once a week.”

“I was introduced to the owner once, and I told him that they should release a book with their recipes so everyone can make them at home. But they don’t want to share their secrets.”

“Rude” I say, my stomach rumbling. “Should we get something to eat? I know a nice place around here, and it isn’t an expensive one.”

“Sure. I’ll text the driver to let him know.”

As we start walking, I can’t help but stare at him while he texts. How is it possible that I had never paid attention to him? He is so handsome and…

“Holy shit” I say as I feel my ankle twisting on a weird angle, making me fall the to floor. Or almost, because two big arms around me have avoided the disaster.

“Are you alright?” Rúben asks.

“That stupid cobblestone over there… You son of a bitch!” I yell.

“Do you want me to kick it?” he smiles.

“And risk getting you injured again? No way. But shit, it hurts like hell” I say while limping, Rúben’s arms still around me.

“Come, let’s sit over there” he says, helping me walk.

“Sorry for all the swearing” I say as I sit, “but oh my god.”

“It’s alright, I hear worse when I’m on the pitch. Can I check it?”

“Ok” I say as he kneels in front of me.

“It’s getting swollen, but I don’t think you broke it. Let me call the driver, we must take you to a doctor.”

A few minutes later, the car parks in front of us, the pain on my ankle getting worse.

“C`mon” he says, lifting me in the air as if I was as light as a feather.

“What happened?” the driver asks, opening the car’s door.

“A loose cobblestone” Rúben says, putting me down on my seat with an effortless move. “We need to take her to a doctor. I think it’s just a bad sprain, but just in case.”

“I know where to take her. If we go to A&E, we’ll be there until tomorrow.”

And with that, the two men get inside the car, Rúben sitting next to me and putting my legs on his lap.

“Is it getting worst?” he says, his fingers caressing the skin around my ankle. I just nod, the pain not allowing me to say anything. The pain, and his touch. “Try to focus on your breathing.”

“Like pregnant woman do during labor?” Oh my god, why did I just say that? The pain. That was definitely the pain talking for me and not the fact that our current position and his hands on my legs are making me think about making babies. Nope.

“Yes, like that” he chuckles. “Close your eyes and focus on your breathing. You say you do yoga, right? Try one of those breathing exercises.”

I do as he says, closing my eyes and trying to focus on my breathing. 1,2,3,4 in. He is not here, next to me. 4,3,2,1 out. My legs aren’t on his lap.

Surprisingly, it does help. At least until the car suddenly stops and I feel like my face is about to hit the seat in front of me. But yet again, one of those arms is around me, keeping me in place.

“I’m sorry about that” the driver says. “Some people seem to get their driving licences with a box of cereals.”

“Are you alright?” Rúben asks.

“Yeah, yeah. But my relaxation mood is gone.”

“We are almost there, miss. I promise” the driver says.

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“It’s just a bad sprain, nothing to worry about” the doctor says. “During the next few days your ankle will go from purple to yellow and everything in between, but that’s normal. Remember to put this lotion three times per day, and if it hurts, take some paracetamol. Also, keep it up and rest as often as you can. If in a week the pain hasn’t disappeared, go to a doctor.”

“Ok. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you very much” Rúben says, shacking the doctor’s hand. “I’ll send you those tickets for you, your dad and your uncle as soon as I can.”

“Oh, there is no need. Really. My uncle was joking when he said it.”

“I wasn’t” the driver says. Because the doctor attending me, happens to be his nephew.

“It’s ok, don’t worry” Rúben says, lifting me in the air again.

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“So, where to now?” the driver asks once we are back in the car.

“Your place?” Rúben asks.

“Yes, please. But before that, can we stop at McDonalds? I’m famished.”

“Of course, miss” the driver says, trying not to laugh.

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“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Rúben asks while we wait for the lift. He is carrying me again, a bag of McDonalds on one of his hands.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. My friend should be coming back from work any minute now. If she was lucky, she may already be home.”

“We are gonna have to squeeze a bit if we want to fit on the lift” he says when the doors open.

“Or you could put me down. I can balance pretty well on just one leg.”

“Sure…”

“It’ll be just a minute, c´mon.”

“Alright then” he says as he puts me down, one of his arms around my waist while I hold to it. Damn, his arms. Have I already mentioned his arms? His big and strong arms?

“See? Nothing happened” I say as I open my flat’s door.

“For now” he replies. “Are you sure your friend is on her way?”

“I am, Rúben. I promise.”

“Then I guess I’ll let you enjoy your dinner” he says, leaving the bag on the table in front of me.

“Sorry about the restaurant choice” I apologize. “I know you aren’t into this stuff.”

“I’ll eat something at the hotel, don’t worry.”

The moment he says that, the door of my flat opens, Rebecca coming in.

“Oh” she says, her eyes fixed on Rúben.

“See? She is already here. You may leave.”

“I… am… already here” Rebecca repeats, her eyes still on him.

“Ok…” he says, not too sure about what is going on. “Will you text me in the morning?”

“I will.”

“Goodnight then” he says, leaving our flat while Rebecca follows him with her eyes. I think she hasn’t blinked yet.

“That… that was your hottie?” she says once Rúben has left.

“Yep.”

“Wow” she says, sitting next me to me on the sofa. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s a long story. Would you mind if I tell you all about it while devouring this?” I say, picking the food bag from the table.

“Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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ghost-town-story · 1 year

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FebruarOC Day 17: Quinn

Jay paused by the door to his apartment. “Ready?” he asked.

Gray just nodded in response. She didn’t know if any amount of warning from Jay would ever be enough to prepare her for the sight of another too-young Nova.

Jay took her silence in stride and opened the door. Gray followed him inside as he announced, “I’m back, and I have a friend with me.”

The first thing that Gray noticed was that she was so small. Her feet dangled a good few inches off of the floor, and when she slid off the couch, Gray was certain she would barely brush her elbow.

“This is Gray,” Jay said, making quick work of introductions. “Gray, Quinn.”

Quinn’s dark eyes swept over Gray. If Gray looked closely, she could see a thin silver ring around her pupils, already marking her as a Nova. “You’re a Nova too?” Quinn asked.

“Yes I am.” Gray smiled at her, hoping to relieve the girl’s obvious wariness.

Apparently content that Quinn wasn’t immediately going to freak out at this development, Jay patted Gray’s shoulder and disappeared further into the apartment. Quinn watched him go until she couldn’t turn any further while keeping Gray in her sights.

Gray sighed, then settled into one of the armchairs. “Well, I see Jay has already taken care of most of the explanations then?”

Quinn nodded, hesitantly settling back down on the couch. This time though, her feet stayed planted on the floor, sitting so far forward on the cushion that Gray doubted it was comfortable.

“That’s good,” Gray said. “So then—”

“What are you doing here?” Quinn interrupted.

Gray frowned. “Did Jay not tell you?” When she received an emphatic shake no in response, she sighed again. “Well,” she said, “since you’re still young, somebody needs to take care of you. Cassandra is usually the one who takes the younger kids under her wing, and I’m absolutely sure she’ll dote on you once she’s back on her feet, but right now she’s not able to take on that responsibility. So, I was asked instead.”

“What about Sky and Jay?” Quinn asked.

“Don’t let the fancy goggles fool you sweetheart,” Aydan piped up, appearing from the kitchen with a steaming mug in her hands. “Jay can hardly take care of himself some days.”

“Excuse you,” Jay said in mock offense. Aydan just grinned at him as she handed the mug to Quinn. Jay over-exaggeratedly rolled his eyes before turning to Gray. “You want some cocoa?”

Something hot and sweet sounded wonderful right about now. “Yes please.”

Meanwhile, Quinn was sipping at her own cocoa, her bare feet scuffing at the floor beneath her. Gray waited patiently to see if she would say anything as Jay handed her a mug before he and Aydan disappeared back into the kitchen to listen in.

“I’m scared.”

The confession was almost too quiet for Gray to catch, mumbled into cocoa as it was, but it was still enough to make Gray’s chest ache.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asked.

Quinn looked at Gray from behind the shelter of her mug and bangs, and carefully nodded.

“I was too, back when I first went nova,” Gray admitted. “It’s a lot of big changes happening all at once, and it’s so easy to get overwhelmed by everything happening.”

“But I want to be brave.”

“Bravery comes in all different shapes and sizes,” Gray said gently. “Even just being here is brave in its own way.”

Quinn made a sort of disbelieving noise that she quickly muffled in her cocoa. Gray made no effort to hide her own smile at the reaction.

Several expressions flitted across Quinn’s face before she finally settled on something like determination. “Hey Gray?”

“Yes?”

“Jay said something about magic specialties earlier. What’s yours?”

Gray wondered what had prompted the sudden shift in topic, but she tamped down her own curiosity for now. “Clockwork automatons,” she answered.

Quinn made a face. “Clockwork?” she asked. “Why clockwork?”

“A few reasons,” Gray said with a laugh. “Firstly, we don’t really choose our own specialties. It’s determined by when and where we go nova for the first time. Mine was in my father’s workshop, which was full of his clockwork restoration work. And finally…” She ran a finger over the little charm of a bird that dangled around her wrist. Tiny clockworks like this were simple enough to activate that Gray could probably do it in her sleep.

With a whir and click of machinery, the little bird came to life, taking flight and fluttering across the room to land on the edge of Quinn’s mug of cocoa.

“There’s something beautiful about clockwork that you just can’t get with modern tech,” Gray finished.

Quinn made a doubtful little noise, eyeing up the clockwork bird now preening its metal feathers.

“Let me guess,” Gray sighed. “You’re more of a modern tech girl yourself, hm?”

Quinn nodded reluctantly, her cheeks coloring slightly.

“Then Jay is gonna be your guy for that,” Gray said. “He’s the one with all the cool tech toys.”

“Oh I know.” Quinn was suddenly animated, the last vestiges of shyness burned away with the onset of excitement. “Have you seen his tech goggles?”

Gray sat back with a smile as Quinn launched into an excited ramble about the intricacies of Jay’s goggles. Her heart still hurt for how young Quinn was, but somehow, Gray thought, she would turn out alright in the end.

#writing #in which i write #snippets #nova #februaroc #februaroc 2023 #if there's anything weird shhh i'm very tired and will properly beta this tomorrow lol

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cloudteawrites · 3 years

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chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place.

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon.

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful.

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer.

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored.

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum.

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart.

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle.

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.”

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy. “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back.

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…”

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.”

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.”

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation.

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent. Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think.

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night.

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk.

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted.

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen.

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert.

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.”

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you.

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him.

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache.

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.”

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too.

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.” You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking.

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's.

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist.

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?”

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles.

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting.

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another.

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.”

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room.

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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skiitter · 3 years

Note

A prompt, my dear. Hermione and Draco + “who hurt you?”

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, the majority of which were less than desirable to any sensible person, but one thing he was not was late. His punctuality was a point of pride, in a sea of arrogance no doubt, but Hermione had come to appreciate it over the course of their working relationship. It was something she could rely on, something immovable in an otherwise dangerously murky situation. He may needle her ceaselessly and leave her to do the lions share of the paperwork, but he was always there when he was expected, an effortless air of smugness clinging to him like bad cologne.

This Sunday, however; this unremarkable, overcast Sunday in late September he was late. It was the day after her 24th birthday as well as their final meeting. The report had been ostensibly completed, the field work essentially finished, and the conclusion inevitably drawn. After the better part of a year dedicating 1/3rd of every weekend to spending most of the day with Malfoy, Hermione's Sundays were about to become her own once more; a prospect she was not all that excited about.

Everytime the chirp of the bell above the door announced a new arrival, she would glance over, expecting to see a shock of platinum hair above a signature sneer and everytime, she was disappointed.

"Another tea, miss?" The waitress asked, her expression a perfect blend of professionalism and pity.

"No, no thank you." Hermione spared another look out the window, searching for him among the crowd. "Actually, I think I'm done here. Could I get the check?"

Bundled up against the autumn chill, Hermione paid and left the Cafe' and it's memories behind. It wasn't quite noon yet, and the streets were slowly filling with the townspeople emerging to go about their days. She smiled at a few passersby but was otherwise lost in her own thoughts as she made her way to the Apparition point.

Maybe Malfoy had just decided their final meeting wasn't all that important. To be fair it was more of a formality than anything else. His decision to not show would have no negative consequence on anything other than her feelings. Feelings, of course, that she was deliberately not thinking about.

As she rounded the corner, absorbed in her denial, she didn't see him until it was too late. With an audible "oof" she ran straight into Malfoy, colliding chest to chest. She immediately bounced off but he caught her arm before she could hit the sidewalk.

"What--Malfoy?"

"Graceful as always, Granger." He let her go and she stared, wide eyed and confused, at the state of his face.

"Merlin! Your face it's--"

"Your manners leave so very much to be desired." He looked cross but it was hard to tell beneath the bruising. An ugly, mottled patch of purple marred the left side of his face, stark and violent against his pale skin. It was fresh, the edges red with the recent impact, and it appeared to have just narrowly missed his eye.

"Malfoy," she reached her hand out, ghosting her fingertips over the bruise. "What happened?"

He sneered at her and jerked away. "Keep your obligatory Gryffindor concern to yourself, Granger."

"It's not an obligation!"

"Says the war hero."

"Will you--ugh!" She huffed and dragged him back around the corner, off of the sidewalk and into an alley. "What happened?" She repeated.

"Nothing."

"Malfoy."

He looked around, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. "I made a wrong turn at Diagon Alley, is all."

"A wrong turn?" The incredulity in her voice was palpable. "To where? A boxing ring?"

"Just drop it, Granger."

"I will not just drop it. Look--look at your face!" She closed the space between them. "Malfoy, please. What happened?"

He sighed and the rigidity of his shoulders softened. "I forgot, okay? I went to Flourish and Blotts to get you your bloody birthday gift and when I left, I ran into some adoring fans."

"What--"

"Our former school chums don't take kindly to my presence in Diagon Alley and, after our last little spat, I'd forgotten the warning they'd left me with." Malfoy's jaw tensed and he squinted up into the clouded sunlight. "They took it upon themselves to remind me."

Hermione balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter, Granger."

"Who?" She took a steadying breath. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know. I vaguely recognized them from Hogwarts. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. It was categorically not fine. Malfoy was hardly the first of their class that had been on the wrong side of the war to be attacked. Harry had spent a significant amount of time trying to dispel such violent grudges and, to the best of her knowledge, it had been handled. Clearly, she was mistaken.

"We need to report this to the Ministry. Harry needs--"

"Absolutely fucking not." Malfoy gave her an indignant look. "The last person that needs to hear about this is Saint Potter."

"Malfoy, Harry's job is dealing with--"

"No, Granger. I said no."

"So what? Those nasty little insects just get to get away with it? No. I refuse. We didn't go to bloody war--"

"I was on the wrong side of that war, remember? So, yeah, we did go to war for this exact scenario to exist." He could see the lack of effect his words were having written across her face. "Granger. Please. I don't want this to become another of your crusades."

She reeled as if she'd been slapped. "Crusades?! Malfoy, it's about the injustice of it! You don't deserve to be attacked in the streets for something you did nearly ten years ago!"

"The court of public opinion begs to differ."

"Oh they'll beg alright," she snapped. At her genuine anger, his features softened and Malfoy gave her an unreadable look before looking away.

"You're such a fucking Gryffindor." He said it with an air of affection, though, and it helped to ground her back in the now.

"Thank you." Once more she placed her hand upon his bruised cheek and, to her surprise, he leaned into the touch. Her breathe caught in her lungs and she swallowed. "We--we should take care of that."

"It's just a simple spell. I'll handle it."

"No," she insisted and stepped away from him. "I will. It's the least I can do."

"This is hardly your fault."

"You went to Diagon Alley for me, remember?" She looked him up and down. "Speaking of..."

"I've been attacked and you're worrying over your stupid gift?" His tone was lighter than it had been since she'd ran into him.

"Of course I am. It's not everyday the evil Draco Malfoy buys you a gift." Hermione nodded to the Apparition point behind them. "Let's go."

"What about the Cafe? You can't honestly expect me to deny our Waitress her weekly opportunity to oogle at me." He gestured to his outfit: an expensive and perfectly tailored muggle suit that Hermione had forced him to buy after he showed up to their first meeting in robes.

"I've already been. It'd been weird to go back now. Besides, I think the bruise will overshadow your fancy slacks."

"Women like a man with scars."

She snorted. "It's hardly a battle scar, you git." when he gave her a pleading look, she rolled her eyes and looked around, to make sure they were alone. Satisfied with the lack of muggles, Hermione drew her wand and tapped it gently to his cheek. The static heat of magic bloomed between them and the ugly purple faded away, leaving his pale cheek unblemished once more. "There."

In the process of her healing, Malfoy had stepped completely into her personal space and the look he was giving her was heavy, deliberate.

"This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll find out who did this, with or without your help. They don't get to just attack you and get away with it."

"I'm hardly a weakling, Granger. I fought back."

"Good. It'll make them easier to identify."

"You're not going to let this go." It was not a question.

"No. I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because." She gave him a defiant look and he tipped her chin up with his hand. "You're my--"

"What? I'm your what?"

"Friend?"

"Is that all?" He was dangerous, but in a completely different way to the bully he'd been in their youth.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On what you got me for my birthday." She grinned and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers a moment before pulling away and offering her his arm. She looped hers around it and let him steer them back in the direction of the Cafe.

After a lunch of finger sandwiches and tea, Malfoy finally handed her a perfectly wrapped gift that she immediately tore into. It was the latest book in a series on beasts that Rolf Scamander had been releasing, and it wasn't supposed to be out for another week.

"How did you get this?"

Malfoy shrugged, as if it was the least important thing in the world. "Money is an exceptionally good incentive."

"I love it. Thank you." She beamed at him and he cleared his throat as if it would distract her from the flush creeping up his neck.

"It's no big deal, Granger."

"To you maybe. It is to me. You know how I feel about birthday gifts." They both thought back to the spectacle she'd made of his back in June.

"I did fight for my life while I was out getting it." He grinned but the smile faded at the sharp look she gave him. "I'm joking, of course. Just a little fisticuffs, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am. You didn't have to go all the way to Diagon Alley for this."

"Sure I did."

"Just submitting your half of the report would be gift enough."

"Lucky for you I've done both. Besides, I'm sick of using that bloody report as an excuse to be around you." Hermione blinked, unable to process the weight of what he'd said. At the shock on her face, he shrugged again. "Come on, Granger. You can't possibly think I care about work this much."

"I--you--what?"

He leaned forward and captured her chin in his hand. "My fierce, naive little lion. You're horribly dense." Malfoy gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and pulled away. "Let's go before the Waitress gets jealous."

"But. What."

"I've rendered the great Hermione Granger speechless. I am truly magnificent." His laugh brought her to her senses and she launched herself across the table to kiss him.

"Sod the waitress."

She did, in the end, figure out who hurt him and in true Hermione Granger fashion, made them rue the day they laid hands upon someone she loves.

#Dramione #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #Skitterfics #Hmmmm I don't care for the way this ended but I am just rewriting it endlessly at this point

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mostly-marvel-musings · 3 years

Note

Hi, Thor with make up sex prompt

Miss J - Part 1

A/N: We love angry jealous, make-up sex always! Thanks for this request.

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Warnings: 18+ angst.

Word count: 1400+

Requests & Challenges

Thor Odinson Taglist – @raspberrymama @bitchycherryblossomlove @jennie22feona @innerpaperexpertcloud @thorfanficwriter @darklydeliciousdesires @longlostinanotherworld

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Tags are open folks!

You couldn’t care less about the formal affair though. All you wished for was to kick those uncomfortably high heels off, pull on your favourite pair of sweats and cry yourself to sleep, like you’d been doing for the past week.

A week of the big green monster of jealousy trapping your rational self in its ugly tentacles. A week of drowning your sorrows in alcohol and ice-cream, wallowing in your misery.

Agent Hill had a small mission lined up for you tomorrow which you thought would be a welcome distraction.

Getting a few good punches in and kicking a few arses would definitely help the pent up anger to fizzle out.

“Allow me to introduce you to the world-renowned astrophysicist, Jane Foster.”

You smiled politely and shook your current live-in boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s hand, whom Thor had introduced you to with such pride and delight.

It was supposed to be a quiet dinner date at your favourite place when Jane showed up with Eric Selvig and Darcy, spotting Thor immediately because it was obvious not to, in any given situation. Cordial exchange of pleasantries later, Thor thought it’d be a good idea for them to join you at your table.

You didn’t mind, not at first anyway, somewhere around your second drink of the night, it got difficult to keep up with the conversation. Not being a part of the ‘gang’ felt like high school all over again.

You tried your best not to let it show, even made attempts to join in them reminisce old stories but it was proving rather difficult. There is only so much one can take, so by the time dessert arrived, you had retracted back into your shell. The only person who showed genuine interest in you the entire night was Darcy.

Needless to say, the ride back home was silent. You didn’t see the point in bringing it up with Thor since you knew he wasn’t at fault, not really, he was too kind and seeing his old friends had made him happy. You didn’t wish to spoil his evening, even if it meant your pre-planned date was.

Days turned to weeks as your mind pushed away that incident and chose to focus on other things. Thor knew something was up, but didn’t bring it up, assuming you would be over it.

There wasn’t a mission to keep you busy but an upcoming Stark party you were looking forward to.

An easy evening with your boyfriend and the team with great food was something you needed. Little did you know it would turn into a dinner party from hell.

The Avengers Compound was abuzz with polite chatter, dignitaries and fellow colleagues dressed in their finest, enjoyed an elegant evening of expensive aperitifs and exquisite hors d'oeuvres.

You arrived alone after Thor mentioned he had to pick something up for the party and had left the house early. That ‘something’ was actually a someone you were hoping to never run into.

Jane Foster.

A pleasant conversation you were engaged in with Steve was cut short when they arrived, standing too close to each other before she took his arm and walked in.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Steve frowned, following your gaze until he understood the cause of your reaction.

“What does it look like?”

He raised his hands up before taking your empty champagne flute and going over to the bar for a refill while you took a few deep breaths to keep calm and regain your composure.

“There you are, my love.”

Thor’s warm greeting failed to warm your heart as the man wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Here I am.”

You managed a small smile, eyes flitting between the two of them as if waiting for them to make some announcement.

“I thought you’d gone to pick up that bottle of scotch we wanted to give Tony.”

“I was going to, but then Jane suggested we try this different one and I think Stark will appreciate this more.”

Thor showed you the bottle they had purchased but you didn’t give it a glance, you were busy glaring at the man who’d preferred her choice over yours.

“Oh (Y/N), Jane is being considered for a Nobel prize in astrophysics for her study of the Convergence.”

Thor beamed down at the woman before meeting your glare that quickly got replaced with a faux grin.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you (Y/N).” Jane smiled at you kindly.

“If she wins, which I’m certain she will, I have offered to accompany her in Sweden to receive the award.”

“Oh.”

“O-only if you’re okay with it.” Jane interrupted, quickly catching on your reaction to his statement.

“Why won’t I be okay? Looks like Thor’s decided everything by himself. Excuse me.”

You hurried to get away as fast as you could, not really sure where you were going, leaving Thor frowning after you and an exasperated Steve Rogers holding your drink in his hand.

The bathroom seemed like a good idea to collect yourself or let a few angry tears escape, you chose to do both.

Thor was standing right outside the door when you stepped out, arms crossed over his velvet-blazer clad chest.

“That was rude.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“You march in here with your ex hanging on your arm, buy a gift of her choice and then tell me you’re planning a fucking holiday trip with her!” You snapped, not bothered about causing a scene at the party.

“Don’t raise your voice here.” Thor warned but you were too pissed off to even listen.

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do! This was supposed to be a nice evening with the team, you and I were supposed to spend time together but I see you clearly prefer her company over mine.”

“There is no reason for you to be this angry, my love.”

“Maybe you’re too blinded by Miss Brains over there to notice. Have a good evening.”

You glared at the man one last time before storming out, more angry tears spilling from your eyes and blurring your vision as you walked out.

Back at your place, you had showered and changed into your sleepwear, all while glancing at the wall clock every now and then, waiting for Thor to get home and apologise.

Leaving you alone with your obsessive thoughts was never a good idea, Thor knew this. You’d always assume the worst and get self-critical.

You were making some chamomile tea to calm yourself before bed when Thor knocked on the open front door before stepping in.

He found you in the kitchen, hunched over the counter with your back facing him. He could tell you had been crying, your choice of pyjamas was always the same when you were upset, a loose-fitting T-shirt that once belonged to him and your comfy shorts.

“What? You didn’t drop Jane home?”

Thor was expecting you to be this upset, he didn’t see anything wrong with the decision before Steve pulled him aside and opened his eyes.

“Look (Y/N)—”

“Do you not want to be with me Thor?”

Your voice cracked in the end as you spoke, still not facing him.

“Why would you even think that, my love?”

“Oh I don’t know. When you walk hand-in-hand with your ex at a party meant just for the teammates, when you spend an entire evening laughing and chatting with her and her friends on what was supposed to be our date night? When you decide to go to Sweden with her to celebrate her achievements?”

Thor stared at his feet before cautiously walking closer to you.

“I realised I was wrong, if you’ll forgive me—”

“Maybe you should get back with her.”

Your statement made him stop in his tracks, his heart shattering as you finally turned around to face him.

“What?”

“Clearly you prefer her over me. Who am I next to the great Jane Foster? I don’t get nominated for Nobel Prizes, I don’t have all those fancy degrees..”

You said bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest while Thor remained silent.

“I realise I’ve upset you, my l—”

“I think you should leave.”

You murmured, turning your back to him once more.

“Please don’t do this.” He begged.

“You should go with her, Thor. I think we have a lot to think about when you get back.”

We need these two to fall in love again. Help!

#thor odinson x reader #thor odinson angst #thor odinson one shot #thor odinson imagine #thor x you #thor odinson fanfiction #thor fanfiction #thor angst

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babygirl-diaz · 3 years

Text

You're Cute Enough to Fuck With Me Tonight (AU)

Going to a club when you’re in your late 30s is not the best way to spend your Saturday nights, but Steve and Natasha insisted, so Sam ended up giving in to the peer pressure. Natasha got them to bypass the queue outside because she apparently knew the owner. The nightclub turned out different from what Sam was expecting. It was an elite club with its own fancy VIP lounge. Natasha got them a VIP booth and the three of them did whiskey shots to celebrate the successful first season of their tv show.

They were talking and laughing and well into their third beer when Natasha said, “Sam, don’t look now, but cokehead over there is eating you up with his eyes.”

“Huh?” Sam asked, and turned around to see who she was talking about when he found a white dude with short dark hair and a face full of facial hair, looking at Sam like he was starving and Sam was a buffet. There was a line of cocaine in front of the guy and he leaned down to snort it before coming up to wave at Sam. Sam ignored him.

“I tell him not to look and what does he do… he looks,” Natasha said sarcastically. “The guy’s hot, though. I think you should go for it.” She leaned back against Steve, who absently stroked her arm.

“The guy looks like trouble to me,” Steve pointed out. “I think you should stay away.”

“Wow, thanks, Dad,” Sam huffed.

“I love this song!” Natasha announced when the strings of a familiar song played. Before Sam could say anything, he was being pulled onto the dance floor by his friends despite his protests. “Call Me By Your Name, really?” Sam asks

“What? It’s a nice song!” Steve said, almost offended.

“You’re so whipped!” Sam laughed and slapped him on the back.

He moved his hips and ass along with the music and let out a frustrated groan when Natasha and Steve started grinding up against each other and got lost in one another. Sam knew this would happen. He’d end up as the third wheel and that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming tonight.

Sam lets out a surprised sound when he felt hands on his waist. Whoever had their hands on him spun him around, and Sam immediately came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes, rimmed red. It was that cokehead from earlier. Sam wanted to pull away but got hypnotized by the look the guy was giving him.

The guy leaned in close to Sam’s ear and sang completely out of tune. “Romantic talkin'? You don't even have to try. You're cute enough to fuck with me tonight.” His voice was rough and despite the bad singing, it ran a shiver down Sam’s spine.

“I’m Bucky,” the guy introduced himself and pulled Sam even closer to move their hips together. “And you’re hot.” His voice was slightly slurred.

“Well, lucky for me, my name is Sam and not Hot.” Sam wrapped his arms around the guy’s neck and pressed their chests together.

“Sam…” Bucky said as if testing out his name. “Beautiful name for a beautiful guy.”

“You’re just saying that to get into my pants,” Sam smirked.

“Is it working?” Bucky pouted

“Nah, you gotta try harder.”

“God, you’re so hot,” Bucky said into Sam’s ear and took his earlobe between his teeth and pulled on it, making Sam moan. “I want you so bad,” he continued to say and squeezed Sam’s ass. Maybe the alcohol made him do it, but Sam surged forward and kissed him. He darted out his tongue and licked Bucky’s upper lip before taking it between his own lips. He then tilted his head to the side and kissed the edge of Bucky’s lips. Bucky opened his mouth and Sam’s tongue slid inside and he let himself explore Bucky’s mouth. The kiss got intense and heated. Sam felt Bucky’s cock press against his and he moaned into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky swallowed up the sound. The song ended and they pull apart but stay close. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam said over the next song.

“Okay,” said Bucky and took Sam’s hand, leading him out of the club. But when they got outside, a small group gathered around them and asked Sam for autographs and photos. Sam felt himself strain in his jeans and he hoped no one noticed it as he took photos and signed autographs. Once the crowd dispersed, Sam found Bucky giving him a curious look. “You some kinda big shot?” He asked.

“I’m an actor,” Sam replied. “Ever heard of the show Captain America and the Winter Soldier? I’m the Captain America part of it. My friend Steve is the Winter Soldier.”

“I don’t watch tv. Don’t get the time,” Bucky shrugged. “But I get to fuck someone famous. That’s one thing off my bucket list.”

“So that’s why you wanna fuck me?” Sam asked faking offense. “And hey, who said you get to fuck me?”

Bucky got closer to Sam and kissed him again. “Oh, you’re so gonna let me fuck you, doll.” The way Bucky says doll makes Sam shiver and bite his lips.

“You wanna come back to my place?” Sam asked.

“Nah, I can’t wait that long but I know just the place.”

Bucky took Sam’s hand and led him towards the parking garage. Sam raised an eyebrow when they got to Bucky’s vehicle. “You some kinda soccer mom?” He asked looking at the Jeep SUV.

“It’s nondescript. Works well for my line of work,” Bucky shrugged. “Besides, you’re gonna thank me in a bit.”

“Your line of work? Fuck, you’re not a stay-at-home dad, are you? I don’t do married men.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed as he got into the SUV. Sam followed him. “I am not a stay-at-home dad or married,” Bucky replied.

Bucky was on him, kissing him, the second they got in.

Sam pulled away briefly to ask, “What do you do then?”

Bucky looked him right in the eyes. The red rim around his eyes was gone and his eyes turned dark as he replied. “I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets.”

Sam blinked at him before he burst out laughing. “Wow, I’m the actor, but you’re the one with the vivid imagination.”

A smirked twitched along Bucky’s lips. “What can I say? I have a boring ass job. So I’m just trying to make myself sound interesting.”

“So what do you actually do?” Sam asked. “No. Wait. Lemme guess.”

“Be my guest.”

Sam’s eyes trailed down Bucky’s body. “You’re an investment banker.”

Bucky’s eyebrow shot up at that. “So damn close… I’m a stockbroker. How did you--”

“I’m just that good.” Sam winked at him. But then a smile broke across his face and he shook his head. “I saw you with those Wall Street folks earlier. Wasn’t that hard to figure out what you did for a living.”

Bucky leaned in close and kissed Sam once again. “So smart,” he said in between the kisses. “Just the way I like ‘em. Get in the backseat.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made his way onto the backseat and took off his clothes. He tossed them onto the front seat and felt his cheeks heat when he noticed the way Bucky was looking at him. Bucky’s blue eyes dilated, and he licked his lips while once again staring at Sam like he was a buffet. Bucky pulled out a condom and single-use lube from his wallet and Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “You were waiting to get lucky tonight, weren’t you?”

“I just like being prepared,” Bucky replied as he got into the backseat as well. He took off his own clothes and threw them onto the driver’s seat and pulled Sam closer to ravish his lips.

Bucky was right. Sam was thankful for the fact that the vehicle was an SUV. They had enough space to fuck in the back.

When they finished, it left Sam breathless and sore, but in a good way. Bucky drove him home, and the two cuddled up naked on Sam’s bed.

“Didn’t think you’d be a cuddler…” Sam commented.

“Oh, I love to cuddle,” Bucky replied, and tightened his grip around Sam’s middle.

Sam made his head more comfortable on Bucky’s chest and kissed his pecs. “You’re gorgeous, you know that.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bucky chuckled.

Sam frowned at that. “How many guys do you pick up at the club?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?” Bucky teased and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that cause I let you fuck me,” Sam huffed.

Bucky got on top of Sam and pressed their lips together again. “Nope, I’m only saying that so that you’d let me fuck you again.” His hand moved down on the sheets and groped Sam’s ass, making him gasp.

“You asshole,” Sam said, with no heat behind his words. “Lube and condoms are in the side drawer.”

“How many guys do you bring around here?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sam smirked at that. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

***

Sam woke up the next morning to a cold and lonely bed. Bucky had snuck out during the night without even saying goodbye. That made Sam hurt a little. Just a little. Huffing, Sam threw the sheets over himself and fell back asleep. He didn’t know how long he slept, but the ringing of his doorbell woke him up. Sam wanted to ignore it and go back to sleep, but the person on the other end of the door was relentless.

Groaning, Sam got out of the bed and put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before making his way to the door. He threw it open and found Natasha and Steve standing there, looking equally worried.

“Oh thank god,” Steve pushed past Natasha and hugged Sam tightly.

The guy was built like a tank, and Sam struggled in his embrace. “Let me go! You’re crushing me!” Sam complained and pulled away from his friend to catch a breath. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“You disappeared last night! And then this morning there was news that someone at the club died and you wouldn’t answer your phone… we were scared!”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, your leering cokehead friend, one of his friends OD’d at the club last night.”

“Shit,” Sam hissed.

I’m an assassin. I was at the club to kill one of my targets. Bucky’s words rang in his ears and for a moment, Sam entertained the thought that maybe Bucky wasn’t joking after all. But he shook his head and got rid of the thought as soon as it entered his mind. There was no way Bucky was responsible for some guy overdosing. Sam was being ridiculous.

“Where did you go last night?” Natasha asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“The leering cokehead… I brought him home,” Sam replied.

“What?!” Steve screeched. “Why would you do that?”

Both Natasha and Sam gave him an exasperated look, and he threw his hands up.

“So how was he?” Natasha asked.

“The best I’ve ever had,” Sam replied.

#SamBucky #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Natasha Romanov #Steve Rogers #TFATWS #fanfiction #tw: drug use #aashnas drabble

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Chemistry on the Couch

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

submitted by @elevenspeter

Masterlist

“You have a celebrity crush, don’t you Tom?” Graham instigated as he leaned forward curiously on his knee. Tom didn’t have to think twice to know who he was referring to. There was only one girl that had been living rent free in Toms mind since he was a child, and that was you.

“I do. Ever since I was little, I had the biggest crush on Y/n L/n, the actress.” Tom began with a shy smile. “And I mean the biggest crush. To the point where my parents had her movies playing on the TV all day long to keep me from crying. To this day, I could recite all her lines because I have seen it so many times.”

“That’s so cute.” Emily Blunt, another guest on the couch, gushed. “I bet she’d be happy to hear you fancied her.”

“And whats this I hear about kissing the TV?” Graham giggled to himself.

“I-“ ,Tom cut himself off to laugh in embarrassment as the rest of the audience laughed, “I was convinced she was my girlfriend so I would kiss the TV whenever she was on the screen.” He shrugged in his defense as the audience erupted into laughter. “It drove my dad mad because I got saliva all over the television but my mum thought it was sweet.”

“Aw.” Graham pouted. “So you were a big fan?”

“I was obsessed with that girl from the time I was five until I was about 31.” Tom confirmed.

“How old are you now?” Emily wondered.

“24.” Tom stated, eliciting a laugh from the audience.

“How adorable.” Graham looked out at the crowd with a deviant smile. “And that’s exactly what we told her when we asked her to be on the show tonight. Y/n, come on out.”

Tom’s heart stopped momentarily as Graham looked behind him and waved. His eyes slowly went up as the sound of high heels on tile sounded over the roar of the crowd.

“Oh no.” Tom gulped. Strapped into those high heels were mile long legs wrapped in a tight black dress, all topped off with your perfect face. Tom had spent years loving you through a screen, and now you were walking towards him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Y/n L/n!” Graham announced as you came out from backstage with a cheery smile. The audience became deafening as you walked towards the couch but Tom couldn’t hear a thing. His heart had yet to kickstart as he watched you with wide eyes.

“Hi!” You waved warmly to the crowd before hugging Graham hello. Tom looked down in disbelief as you made your way through the guests, hugging each one and greeting them hello. His heart pounded in his ears as you got closer and before he knew it, his life long crush was standing in front of him.

“Hi, Tom. I’m Y/n.” You smiled brightly as you opened your arms to him. Tom nearly jumped out of his seat and gulped as your eyes met his. It might’ve been the lights, but he could’ve sworn your eyes sparkled like they were coated in glitter.

“Yeah.” Tom sputtered, forgetting every word in the English language. The audience laughed at Toms stiffness, but you didn’t. You held his gaze and gave him an assuring smile, silently telling him to relax.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You continued, your arms still open to him. Tom snapped out of his daze and stepped into your arms, resting his head on your shoulder with a child like smile. He was convinced he was dreaming until your lightly curled hair was tickling his face as you embraced, telling him that this was really happening.

“It’s nice to meet you too, darling.” He mumbled happily in your ear. You pulled away but kept your hands on his shoulders, smiling brightly at him when you noticed how red his cheeks were.

“I like your accent.” You told him, keeping one hand on his shoulder as the both of you sat down. All that space on the couch and you chose the spot next to him, something that sent a flurry of butterflies into Toms tummy.

“I like yours too.” He said with a soft smile, never taking his eyes off you. He spent so many years watching you on his television screen, watching you grow up and mature, but nothing could prepare him for the beauty in front of him now. He was enchanted by you, everything about you, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. He was in a bright room full of people with multiple cameras on him, but all he could see was you.

“Thank you.” You giggled. “You’re Spiderman, right?”

“Yeah, I am.” Tom nodded, mouth drying out. “You know about me?”

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t know about the cutest Spider-Man to date?” You nudged him slightly, his eyes staying glued to your arm as you touched him.

“Did everyone else hear that?” He looked out at the audience with doe eyes.

“We heard it.” Graham nodded with a laugh.

“Just making sure.” Tom beamed, still reeling from your compliment. You were the most heavenly creature to walk the planet in Toms opinion, and you thought he was cute. Just about every dream he had ever had was coming true all at once, and he was loving every second.

“Now Tom, we have a picture that your mother sent in. Look how cute.” Graham gushed as he turned to his monitor. A picture of a young Tom appeared and the audience, as well as all the guests on the couch, fawned over it. In the picture, he was kissing the TV that was paused on a scene from one of your movies. You laughed in delight and absentmindedly squeezed Tom’s hand.

“Aw. We already had our first kiss and I didn’t even know it.” You teased him, scooting a little closer to him on the couch. You hadn’t let go of his hand yet, but he wasn’t complaining.

“I am so sorry.” Tom shook his head in embarrassment and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Don’t be. As long as I know about the next one, I’ll be fine.” You shrugged, looking at him through your eyelashes. Tom gulped at the thought of a next kiss, especially if you were the one suggesting it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting with him.

“Now, you two have actually met before.” Graham said as he pointed between the two of you. You looked at Tom in confusion, letting go of his hand to brush a stay curl off your face.

“Have we?” You asked him. He nodded, trying not to let the disappointment of you letting go of his hand show on his face.

“Yeah. We met many years ago at the Secret Life of Arietty premier because you were in the American version and I was in the British version.”

“Oh My God!” Your eyes widened. “Wait, I do remember you! You were so sweet.”

“Was I? I wouldn’t know, I blacked out.” Tom joked, making you laugh cheerfully.

“Tom’s mother graced us with a home video. Now, this was taken after the premier right?” Graham asked as he turned his attention back to the monitor behind him.

��Oh, God.” Tom sighed, knowing exactly what was coming. “This was after the premier when I could not stop bouncing off the walls because I met you. I think my parents recorded it specifically to embarrass me in front of Y/n one day.”

“Lets take a look, shall we?” Graham asked the audience as the home video began to play.

“Who did you meet?” You heard Tom’s mother’s voice from behind the camera. On the screen was a grainy video of teenage Tom, clad in a shiny suit and wide grin. His face was splashed with freckles and acne, he had a mole on his chin, and his teeth hadn’t quite straightened out yet, but you thought he was the cutest thing imaginable.

“I met Y/n!” He gushed, taking a deep breath as if he still didn’t believe it. He was pacing around his kitchen, slightly loosening his neck tie as he went.

“Yay!” He mom cheered. “Where did you meet her?”

“We were at the Secret Life of Arietty premier and she came up to me and she hugged me and we took a picture and she was so pretty.” He rambled, all his words coming out in one breath. You laughed loudly at the video, resting your hand on Tom’s knee as you continued to watch.

“What did she say to you?” His mom asked from behind the camera.

“She said she likes my accent!” He practically screamed as he tugged on his tie. “She said she likes my accent when hers is so pretty. She’s so pretty.”

“Yay! Tommy’s so excited. He just met his dream girl.” His mom chuckled.

“Mum, did you see me? Did you see her hug me?” Tom asked as he bounced up and down. “She smelled so good. Like Christmas.”

The video faded to black and the monitor turned off, the audience clapping as it concluded.

“That was so cute! Tom, I’m gonna die.” You pouted, turning to him and squeezing his knee.

“Please don’t die. We’re just getting to know each other.” Tom laughed, putting his hand over yours and squeezing it. He was never normally this bold, especially not with girls he fancied since childhood, but something about you gave him a confidence he didn’t hate.

“That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so excited.” You gushed, your own flock of butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“I’m having the exact same reaction right now, just internally.” He gestured to himself, making you laugh.

“Really?” You asked, liking his attention more than you thought you would.

“Obviously.” He laughed. “I had the biggest crush on you growing up.”

“I think I have a crush on you now.” You half joked, half meant entirely.

“Oooo, looks like we have a love connection on the couch tonight.” Graham wiggled his eyebrows. “So Y/n, Tom’s seen all your movies. Have you seen his?”

“No, I haven’t.” You shook your head and looked at Tom.

“I have copies back in my hotel room if you want to see them.” He said innocently, not wanting the interaction to end after the show was done.

“How bold of you, Tom.” Graham snorted, making the audience murmur with excitement.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom said quickly, not wanting to offend you. His cheeks were bright red as the crowd misinterpreted his statement. You felt bad for him and shut him up before he could apologize further.

“I know you didn’t.” You patted his arm. “Can we watch them after the show? I’d love to see you in action.”

“You want to?” He asked in surprise, face heating up once again.

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded. “I want to see your work.”

“You hear that Tom? She wants to see you in action.” Graham said wickedly, also trying to start trouble.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re a host, not a match maker.”

“Why can’t the man be both?” Tom shrugged, not particularly mad at the flirting that was going on.

“Careful there, Spiderman.” You warned. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish?” Tom shot back, feeling confident enough to test his luck with you.

“I’ll guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?” You gave him a once over as you leaned back on the couch.

“Tonight?” He furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing what you meant.

“In your hotel room.” You said simply. “I meant what I said. I wanna see you in action.”

“Okay.” Tom swallowed thickly, trying not to show how nervous he was. “I’ll show you my movies.”

“Awesome.” You smiled brightly at him. “It’s a date.”

“This is my room.” Tom said unenthusiastically as he turned on the lights in his hotel room. “If you see boxers on the floor, they’re not mine.”

“Then who’s are they?” You snorted. “Are you and Jake Gyllenhaal filming Broke Back Mountain 2 without telling anyone?”

“No, no. They’re mine.” Tom quickly corrected. “And don’t bring up Broke Back Mountain around me. I had no idea what it was about before I watched it and I still can’t look at fishing rods without blushing.”

“You’re too cute.” You laughed at him as you slid out of your high heels.

“Thanks.” Tom smiled sheepishly. “I’m gonna get the movie ready.”

“I’ll be right there. I just have to get out of this dress.” You called from the bathroom. “Are you okay with me wearing the hotel robe? I promise I won’t get any makeup on it. Not on the outside, at least.”

“Here. This might be more comfortable.” Tom appeared in the doorway with a hoodie and a pair a sweatpants.

“Thanks.” You smiled warmly at him as you took the clothes. “I won’t get makeup on this either.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t mind if you did.” He shrugged it off. “It’d be a nice little reminder of you.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes wander around Toms face, appreciating every line and freckle. He was awfully sweet, and you found that awfully compelling.

“Do you have any face wash?” You asked him, snapping out of your trance before you got pulled in too deep.

“I have soap.” He offered, pointing to a bottle of Dove on the counter.

“You’re such a boy.” You laughed and ran your fingers through your curls. “I’ll just leave this on then.”

“That’s not so bad. Your makeup looks really nice.” He said quietly as he kept his eyes low.

“Thanks. I’ll let my makeup artist know you like it.” You smirked at him as you walked towards the mirror, beginning to gather your hair in a ponytail.

“I’m not so sure it’s the makeup that I like.” He shrugged as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s what’s underneath.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked a little insecurely, looking at him in the mirror as loose curls fell out of your ponytail to frame your face.

“I’ve thought you were pretty since I learned to spell “pretty.”” Tom chuckled, scratched the back of his neck as he shyly watched you.

“Aren’t you dyslexic? I’m sure it wasn’t that long ago.” You teased him endearingly.

“Hey.” He whined playfully. “How did you know I was dyslexic?”

“I might have googled you.” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact as you applied some chapstick in the mirror.

“Did you now?” He asked, taking an even deeper interest in the conversation.

“I googled all the guests that were gonna be on the show.” You shrugged as a light blush painted your cheeks.

“Oh.” Tom nodded, looking away disheartened.

“Don’t sound too disappointed.” You laughed. “Your dyslexia didn’t show up on the first page of google. I did some digging on you.”

“Oh.” He said again in a completely different tone. This time, he was intrigued. You walked away from the mirror and met Tom in the doorway, leaning your arms against the frame as you smiled at him.

“I’m gonna get changed now.” You told him. “Save me a seat.”

“Okay.” He bit his tongue excitedly, giving you a once over before turned to walk to the bed.

“Wait, Tom?” You called putting for him once he was out of sight.

“Yeah?” He came back with concerned eyes. You smirked slightly as him before turning around and touching the back of your neck.

“Unzip me?” You asked, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. Toms chest tightened, feeling a shortness of breath before nodding his head. The way you were looking at him made him forget how to complete an action as simple as raising his hand, but a simple tug of your lips into a smile restored his confidence. He cleared his throat and snapped out of his trance, smiling shyly at you as he nodded.

“Sure.” He mumbled, hesitantly reaching up and grabbing your zipper. He slowly dragged it down your back, a blush painting his cheeks when the lacy black band of your bra was revealed. He pulled the zipper to the end, stopping at the bottom of your spine.

“Thanks.” You turned around slowly and shot him a wink.

“Anytime.” He answered, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. He touched a cool hand to his cheek, trying to draw away some of the heat.

“I might have to take you up on that.” You shrugged a shoulder, knowing full well what you were doing. Tom caught the double meaning of your statement and felt his face redden from the bridge of his nose all the way to the tips of his ears. You smiled slyly at him before closing the door so you could change.

Tom put the disc in the DVD player and got settled on bed, awkwardly shifting the sheets as he waited for you to join him. It didn’t take long before he heard the bathroom door opening, doing a double take when he noticed you hadn’t bothered with the sweatpants he gave you. His eyes were glued to your bare legs that peeked out from the bottom of his hoodie as you made your way towards the bed.

“Nice stems.” Tom quoted a favorite movie of his as you sat on the bed next to him.

“I thought it might be a little too hot for sweatpants.” You said without looking at him, ostentatiously crossing your legs just to give Tom another look.

“I see.” He gulped, sneaking glances at you every now and then as the movie started.

A few silent moments went by as you paid attention to the movie, not taking particular attention to the parts when Tom wasn’t on screen. His heart beat loudly in his ears as that scene in the alleyway came on, keeping a close eye on your reaction. He heard you suck in your breath when the suit slid off, feeling a twinge of pride as an impressed look crossed your face. You scooted a little closer to Tom, running nervous fingers through your curled hair.

“Well damn.” You laughed shyly. “I’ve never seen someone look as good out of a suit as they look in it.”

“Was that a compliment?” Tom looked at you cheekily. “Are you complimenting me, darling?”

“Would you be mad if I was?” You asked softly. The corners of Toms mouth tugged into a smile as he scooted closer as well.

“Not at all.” He shook his head, the movie long gone from his mind. You took this as an opportunity to move even closer to Tom, your hips touching each other now as your bare legs tangled with his clothed ones. You twisted a little in place, leaning into his side as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, rubbing his arm gently as you looked up at him.

“Darling, this is just fine.” He answered, resting a hand on your knee and rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“Good.” You smirked, cuddling into his side and resting your head in the crook of his neck. Tom kept his eyes on you, feeling like he was gonna wake up any moment from what surely was a dream. Your attention snapped to him, making him jump a little as you made eye contact.

“Stop staring.” You scolded playfully. “I’m trying to pay attention.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Tom chuckled, moving his arm so he could wrap it around you and hold you closer. You stayed like that for the rest of the movie, just enjoying the embrace of a stranger who really wasn’t that strange at all.

“What did you think? Did you like it?” Tom asked as he walked you to the elevator once the film had ended. You had your arm linked in his, wearing his sweatpants now as your evening together was coming to an end. He walked slowly, trying to draw out his time with you.

“I didn’t watch it.” You chuckled as you answered honestly. “Any of it.”

“Then what have you been doing the last two hours?” He wondered.

“Looking at you.” You smiled shyly. “Only when you weren’t looking, of course.”

“That’s funny.” Tom mumbled as he brushed a curl off your face. “Because all the times you weren’t looking at me, I was looking at you.”

You reached the elevator and felt a sadness in your heart, knowing this was the end of an enchanting evening.

“I promise I’ll watch your movie when I get home.” You told him as you waited for the elevator to come. “And all your other movies. I might stalk you on Instagram too. Do you have Twitter?”

“I do.” He nodded. “If you follow me, I might react the same way I did in that home video you saw. Maybe even worse.”

“I wish I could see that. I bet it’s even cuter now than it was back then.” You smiled, trying to prolong the conversation as much as you could. The elevator dinged, signaling that it was there, but you didn’t budge. You just pressed your back against the wall next to it and looked at Tom as you spoke.

“I bet it’s just as lame though.” He shrugged, playing with one of the ties on the hoodie.

“I think it’s sweet.�� You said softly, putting your hand over his. “I think you’re sweet.”

A radiant smile lit up Toms face as he looked down, feeling fireworks in his chest going off with your words. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of your head, leaning forward and fitting his face into the crook of your neck to conceal his blush. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug and letting it linger to say goodbye.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna need your number so we can arrange a time for me to get this hoodie back to you.” You said as you pulled apart, keeping on hand on his shoulder as he hovered over you.

“You see, I’m torn darling.” Tom shook his head. “I want you to keep the hoodie but I also want to see you again.”

You bit your bottom lip and held out your hand, gesturing that you wanted him to hand you something.

“Give me your phone.”

“Okay.” Tom agreed as he pulled it out of his pocket, not even questioning why you needed it. You took his phone from him, smiling at the picture of him and his friends that he used as his background.

“I put my number in.” You told him as you handed it back. “Use it.”

“I will. I promise you I will. I just have to gawk at it for a few hours first until every thing that happened tonight really sinks it.” He joked, making you laugh loudly as the elevator dinged again, rushing you were you just weren’t ready yet.

“Are you gonna come down with me?” You nodded towards the elevator, wanting every second with him you could get.

“After you.” Tom held the door open so you could step inside, going in shortly after you.

“I had a really good time tonight.” You said once the doors closed. “I said that already but, you know, I mean it.”

“So did I.” Tom nodded, sneaking glances at you as the floors climbed down, going much faster than he liked. “A really, really good time.”

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Thanks for existing or whatever.” Tom mumbled as he scratched behind his ear and averted his eyes. You giggled happily, giving him one last look as you reached the lobby. The elevator doors opened, but you didn’t get out. You hit the button that closed the doors and turned to Tom, ignoring the confused look on his face as you rested your hands on his chest.

“You know, since you’ve so kindly gifted me your hoodie, it’s only fair I leave you with something.” You suggested with a sultry smile.

“Trust me, darling. The memories are enough for me.” He said as he shyly rested his hands on your hips. You moved your hands further up his chest, letting them rest on his shoulders as you pressed up against him.

“Then let’s make one more.” You whispered, looking between his eyes and his mouth before connecting his lips to yours.

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x famous!reader #marvel

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elliesguitarstrings · 3 years

Text

promises, promises || part one: what used to be

masterlist || series masterlist

tom holland x reader

summary: you're crying over someone you haven't seen in two years, tom is straight up depressed, your friends are trying to set you up, and sam is just trying his best to help

warnings: ANGST, language, mentions of sex, little bit of fluff, probably typos

A/N: PART ONE IS HERE!!!! i absolutely love this fic and i hope you guys love it as much as i do :)

p.s. this ended up being really long sooooo i decided to make it into a series instead lol if y'all haven't figured that out

wc: 5k

~~~~~~~~

"I got the part! Holy shit I actually got the part!" Tom throws his computer across the bed in disbelief, almost hitting you.

"Wait, like THE part? Like Spiderman?" you question excitedly.

"YES!!! Check the Marvel Instagram right now!" he crawls over to you as you whip out your phone and quickly search up the account. You scan the page to see a post captioned, "Click the link in our bio to see who the new Spider-Man is!" You quickly find the link and impatiently wait for the page to load. And then you see it, boldface print and giant letters across your phone.

The new Marvel Cinematic Universe Spider-Man will be played by: TOM HOLLAND

"HOLY SHIT TOM! You're fucking Spiderman!" you tackle him with a hug, squeezing him so tightly that he has to fight for breath. "I'm so proud of you, I knew you were gonna do big things." you smile brightly.

"We have to go tell everyone else, come on!" Tom pulls you off of him, dragging you out of his bedroom and down the stairs to give his family the big news.

The rest of the Hollands were already together in the family room, and they immediately took notice of yours and Tom's excitement as the two of you are bounding down the stairs.

Out of breath, Tom sprints to the center of the room. "Attention everyone, I have an extremely important announcement to make!" He pauses for dramatic effect, his family waiting in anticipation. "I'M GONNA BE SPIDERMAN!"

This causes an outburst of cheers and applause from his parents and brothers, each one of them getting up to hug Tom and congratulate him on this huge achievement.

Paddy pipes up, "How did you get the news? Did they call you or something?"

"Um, not exactly. They posted it on their Instagram and on the Marvel website as well, wanna see?" He turns to you, "Y/N, show them your phone!"

You pull out your phone and open the screen you were just looking at, showing the Hollands the Instagram post and article.

"No way, they're totally hacked." Harry remarks, earning disapproving looks from Nikki and Dom. "if you were really gonna be the next Spiderman, they would have called you."

Before Tom has the time to argue back, his phone rings, as if on cue. Tom pulls it out of his back pocket and nervously studies the number across the screen.

"Well, what are you waiting for div, answer it!" Sam chirps impatiently.

The rest of the room is silent while Tom listens intently to the person the other line. You can't make out what they are saying, but the eventual smile on Tom's face completely gives it away.

"Yes, thank you. Thank you so much for this opportunity," he holds while the other person talks again. "Yeah, I'll be in touch, definitely. Thank you again." Tom ends the call and lets out a sigh of relief. "That was fucking Kevin Feige! I got the part! I actually am gonna be the next Spiderman!"

You and the rest of his family cheered even louder than before, enveloping him in a giant group hug.

"I say we celebrate!" Nikki announces. "How about we go out for a nice dinner?"

Tom smiles, "If I'm honest mum, as nice as that would be, I'd rather just stay in and celebrate here tonight. I like your cooking better than any fancy restaurant anyways."

"Of course honey, I'll make your favorite. We can have a nice big family dinner, how does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect mum, thank you."

She dashes into the kitchen followed by Sam, the aspiring chef of the family, while Dom, Harry, and Paddy go to dress the table.

You take this as your cue to leave, seeing as you don't want to disrupt the rest of Tom's night with his family. "I guess I should get going then," you turn to Tom, hugging him once again. "Congratulations again, I'm so proud of you Tommy." you smile as you head to grab your things before you leave.

"Nonsense! You're staying for dinner too!" Tom stops you.

"Tom, I can't, you should spend this night celebrating with your family." you try to reason with him.

"But I want you here too!" he pouts.

"And you are family!" Nikki pipes in from the kitchen, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the family.

"See, everyone wants you here Y/N, please celebrate with us?" Tom cups your face.

"Are you sure? I really don't want to-"

Nikki cuts you off, piping in once again, "Y/N, I insist you stay for dinner with us. You've been a part of this family for so long, and you know that. So please stay and celebrate with us!" she smiles.

You giggle, "Well, I guess I can't say no to that." Tom smiles, giddily engulfing you in another hug.

After a long and delicious dinner, you and Tom now lay under the stars in the treehouse in his backyard. Dom had built it for you two when you were eight years old, and it's been your special place ever since then. Obviously, it has been upgraded and redecorated since then, now that you and Tom were both eighteen, but it still takes you back to the old days when you were just carefree little kids.

You cuddle into Tom's chest, looking up at the night sky through the small window in the roof of the treehouse. "I wish we could stay here forever," you whisper.

"Me too." Tom pulls you closer, kissing your forehead.

"Everything's gonna change you know. We're graduating in two weeks, and then you leave for America. I don't know what I'm gonna do without you." A small tear rolls down your cheek which doesn't go unnoticed by Tom.

He wipes the tear off your face with his thumb, cupping your chin to make you face him. "Hey, hey, look at me. Things might be changing, but that doesn't mean we have to. I'm only gonna be gone for a few months, and then I'll be back. I love you so much, and a few hundred miles is never going to change that. I will never let anything come between us, ever, okay?"

You smile softly, "You promise?"

"I promise darling. It's you and me forever. I'm never letting you go. Never in a million years." he kisses you lovingly, and you swear you could just live in this moment forever with him, and only him.

That was six years ago. And what Tom said was true, everything had changed. You just wish everything else he had said that night was true too.

Now, Tom is a world-famous actor, living a luxurious life out in Hollywood. You, however, have stayed in England, living only thirty minutes away from your childhood home with your newfound best friends Julia and Finn. You are no longer a part of Tom's life, and he is no longer a part of yours. But that doesn't mean you've forgotten about him.

How could you possibly forget about Tom? Your entire childhood was spent with him. From the ages of two to twenty-two, you were inseparable. To this day, you still remember when you first met, and you think about it often.

"I no wanna go! I stay home and watch princesses!" you cry, defiantly pulling away from your mother's firm grip as she tries to stuff you into shoes that are much too small for your rapidly growing feet.

"I know honey, but we have to go welcome the new neighbors who just moved in across the street. We made them brownies, remember?" she smiles.

You scrunch your face up, " No! I stay home!"

Your dad chimes in, kneeling down to your level. "Listen peanut. How about we make a deal. You come with us and say hello to the new neighbors, and then after we get home you can watch any princess movie you want and maybe even have some ice cream, how does that sound?"

You smile, "Ice cream with rainbow sprinkles?"

He rubs your head, "With rainbow sprinkles."

"Okay. I go then."

Your parents smile, and you hold their hands as you walk across the street to meet the neighbors. Your mom rings the doorbell, and the door opens to reveal a red-headed woman, smiling at you and your parents. Hiding behind her is a small, curly-headed brunette boy about the same height as you.

Your mom introduces herself, "Hi! My name is Y/M/N, this is my husband Y/D/N, and this is my daughter Y/N. We live right across the street, and we just wanted to welcome you into the neighborhood." She outstretches her arms, holding the brownies, "I made these for you as well, I hope you like them!"

The woman smiles, "Oh, wow, thank you so much, you are so sweet! Would you like to come in for a bit?"

"Of course, as long as you'll have us."

She ushers the three of you in and you stay close to your mom, still wary of entering a stranger's home.

As she closes the door behind her, she introduces herself as well, "Sorry, the house is a little messy, we’re still getting settled in. But I'm Nikki, my husband Dominic is unpacking in the kitchen, and this is Tom." She motions to the boy behind her, "Tom, say hello to the nice people!"

He timidly steps forward, waving at you and your parents. "Hello." he says quietly.

"Oh my, he is adorable!" your mom gushes. She walks over to him, "How old are you Tom?"

He holds up two fingers, "This many."

She smiles, "Two years old? Wow, you're so big! Guess what, you know who else is that many?" Tom shakes his head no. "My daughter Y/N!" She motions for you to come, and you shyly walk forward.

You wave at him, and that makes him smile. Nikki taps Tom on the shoulder, "Do you maybe want to show Y/N your toys upstairs?

He nods his head, smiling at you, "Wanna go play?" he asks.

You smile back, looking at your mom for permission. She nods her head and pushes you forward. "Okay, we go." you respond. He takes your hand and pulls you upstairs, seemingly coming out of his shell. You don't know what it is about this boy, but he makes you feel warm, like a hug. It's something your two-year-old brain can't quite comprehend, but suddenly you couldn't care less about watching princess movies or eating ice cream.

Sometimes you wish that day had never happened, that you had never met him. You wish your little two-year-old self had fought harder against your parents so that you wouldn’t have to endure the years of pain he would cause you later in life. But you can’t go back, and in part, you’re glad about that. He was your first friend, your first crush, and your first love. But he was also your first heartbreak, and that’s something you can never forget.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by a sharp knock on your bedroom door. "Hey, are you almost ready? We have to leave in ten or we'll be late!" you hear Julia's muffled voice from the other side of the door. Finn is hosting a gala tonight for his art studio, and being his best friends and roommates, you and Julia are basically required to go.

"Uh, yeah, I'm about done, I'll be out in a minute!" You haven't even started getting ready, but you don't have any more time. You quickly raid your closet and find a short v-neck black dress and matching heels. You wiggle into the dress as you make your way into the bathroom. You had planned on straightening your hair, but you have no time, so instead, you brush it back into a sleek low ponytail and spray it with a bit of hairspray. There's no time for the elaborate makeup look you had planned either, so you quickly throw on some concealer, blush, mascara, eyeliner, a bit of highlight, and you're set. As you walk to the door, you grab your purse and slip on your heels, making sure you have your phone and keys. Finn and Julia are already waiting in the car, both with disapproving looks.

"What the fuck took you so long? We were supposed to leave five minutes ago! You know I can't be late for this thing." Finn complains as you slip into the backseat.

"Sorry, I, uhm, don't feel well. A little nauseous." you lie. You don't feel like telling them that you were actually crying about someone you haven't seen or talked to in two and a half years like you do every other night.

"You're not pregnant are you?" Julia chuckles.

"Oh please, we all know that Y/N hasn't gotten any since he who must not be named." Finn replies for you.

"Thanks Finn, what a great friend." you joke sarcastically.

He's not wrong though. Since you and Tom broke up, you haven’t slept with a single person. You’ve been on a few dates and kissed a few guys, but nothing past that. The closest you got was about a month after Tom broke it off with you. You were looking for someone to take your mind off of him, so you found a random guy named David at a pub and took him back to your place. But as soon as he took off his shirt, you saw a birthmark on his back that looked eerily similar to Tom’s, and you promptly broke down crying.

No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to get him off your mind.

"Alright bitches, we're here." Finn sighs. "Help me bring my stuff in, we don't have much time thanks to someone who took ages to get ready."

You give a halfhearted apology as you grab Finn's paintings from the back of his car. Julia stops you before you follow Finn into the venue, "Babe, are you sure you're doing alright?"

You smile lightly, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Okay, if you say so. And sorry about Finn mentioning... him. It's been two years, he should know better."

"Oh, no. No, don't worry about that. It's okay. I don't care." you lie.

She gives you an encouraging nudge on the shoulder, "Hey, who knows, maybe you'll find a hottie here tonight and finally get back out there! What do you think, huh?"

"Yeah, that would be great, actually. Maybe Finn can introduce me to his friend James, I know he's pretty hot." you say just to get her off your back. You know for a fact that you won't be going home with anyone tonight, but you want to ease her conscience, so you continue to lie.

"That's the spirit! Good luck hun, love you."

"Thanks Jules, love you too." you smile.

Halfway through the gala, you already want to go home. Finn is over at the bar flirting with some guy, probably trying to get him to buy his artwork. Meanwhile, Julia has disappeared into the bathroom with her boyfriend Ollie, who she invited about thirty minutes into the event because she "got bored."

You look at your phone and realize it's already midnight, and you know the event won't be ending anytime soon. You slowly make your way over to Finn through the sea of people and tap him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from whatever guy he's flirting with.

"Hey Y/N, how's it going with James?" he asks excitedly.

"Oh, um, it didn't work out, thanks for introducing me though. I just wanted to come tell you that I'm still not feeling well, so I think I'm gonna head home, sorry."

"Oh, okay, no problem. You're probably gonna be alone tonight though, just a heads up. Jules is going back to Ollie's for the night, and" he starts to whisper, "I think I might be going home with this hunk."

You laugh, "Okay, thanks Finn, see you tomorrow then."

"Bye babe. Do you have a ride?" he questions.

"Uh, no, I'm just gonna Uber home, it's no problem."

Finn gasps, "Not this late at night you're not! Let me drive you, hottie with a body over here can wait."

"No, no, don't let me ruin your night. I'll just call Sam then."

His eyes widen, "Like... his brother Sam?"

"Yeah, we're friends still, it's not a big deal. Trust me."

"Okay, fine. But text me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay, love you Finn, see you later." you give him a quick hug and walk outside to call Sam.

You aren't lying, you and Sam are still good friends. Back when you and Tom were together, Sam was the brother that you were closest to, and you felt that it would be unfair to cut ties with the rest of the Hollands just because Tom was a dick to you seeing as they were as much of a family to you as your own parents were, maybe even more. He was attending culinary school in the area anyway, so you decide he’s the best person to call.

As expected, he's happy to drive you home, and about ten minutes later he arrives at the venue where you are still standing outside.

"Hey Sam, I'm sorry for calling this late, but thank you so much for picking me up." you smile as you slide into the passenger seat.

"It's no problem, I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. How've you been?"

"Fine, I guess. How about you?"

"C'mon, I know that look. Something's up with you." he pries.

"I told you on the phone, I'm just not feeling well." you lie, hoping he doesn't catch on.

"It's Tom isn't it?"

"How the fuck do you always know?"

He chuckles. "He is my brother, remember? And you're basically my sister too. I've known you both for literally my entire life, so trust me, I know when it's about him."

You sign in defeat, "I don't know why I can't get over him Sam. It's been nearly three years since we broke up, and I haven't seen him since. My roommates think I'm overreacting, and honestly, I'm starting to agree with them. I should be moved on by now, but I just can't stop thinking about him."

"Hey, hey, don't listen to them, you aren't overreacting. You and Tom were literally attached at the hip for twenty two years, and you weren't even dating for most of them. It's completely normal for you to feel like this, trust me. And I know it doesn't help much for me to say this because I've said it a million times before, but Tom's a complete dick for what he did to you. He's my brother, and I love him, but he's a dick."

"Thanks Sam. I just wish I knew why, y'know? Why, after twenty-two fucking years, he just completely cut me out of his life." you feel your eyes brimming with tears.

"I wish I could have an answer for you Y/N, I really do. But I haven't got a clue. Hell, I honestly don't even know if Tom knows why he did it."

You sigh, "Well, he must have had a reason. Plus, he seems to be doing great in Hollywood. He seems perfectly happy without me."

"You've been stalking him on Instagram, haven't you?" Sam chuckles.

You laugh, "Shut up." That's the great thing about Sam. He can always lighten up a situation, no matter how serious or how sad. Tom did the same thing, that was one of the things you liked most about him.

You and Sam sit in silence for a few minutes, until he finally breaks it. "He's not, you know."

"Huh?" you question, confused.

"He's not happy. You said he seems happy without you, but he's not. He's doing terribly, and it's not just from stress or his work. He won't admit it, but he misses you." he pauses, "I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but he asked about you the other day. About how you were doing and shit like that. I think he would take it back if he could."

You want so badly to believe him, belief that Tom actually still cares about you after all this time. But false hope is the last thing you need right now.

"Well, he can't, can he?" you say sharply, tears still threatening to flow out.

You and Sam sit in silence for the last five minutes of the ride back to your apartment. As he slows the car to a stop, Sam looks over at you sympathetically, "Look, I'm sorry if what I said made things worse. I just wanted you to know that your feelings aren't... one-sided I guess."

You know better than to yell at Sam, he was just trying to make you feel better, so instead of spitting out the sarcastic remark that was on your tongue, you manage out a half-hearted, "It's okay, thanks Sam." and shut the car door.

As soon as the door of your apartment closes behind you, all of the emotions come crashing down on you. A mixture of sadness, anger, guilt, and regret crushed your heart, smashing it into a million little pieces. It feels like two and a half years ago, when he first broke up with you, all over again. Everything was fine until Sam brought him up again, and the memories just all flooded back in. You fall to the floor, clutching your chest in pain, wishing someone was here for you. Wishing he was here for you. At the moment, it feels like you have no one. In reality, you do; you have an entire support system of people who love you so much and would do anything to protect you. But you only want him. You need him. He is the only person you have ever wanted, ever needed, and he's gone.

You want to hate him, you really do. He's caused you more pain in the past two and a half years than anyone or anything has ever caused you in your entire life. But you can't. You can never, and will never, hate him. Which makes you hate yourself.

After what feels like hours of crying, you finally calm down. There's no one at home to talk to and it's too late to call anyone at this point, so you flip on the tv. There's nothing good on Netflix or Hulu that you haven't seen yet, so you scroll through the other apps. You remember that you just got a free Apple TV subscription with your new phone, so you check to see what's on there.

And there it is. Cherry.

His face right on the screen in front of you, lighting your dark bedroom red. You know it's a bad idea and you know you'll regret it, but something draws you to watch it. You need him right now, and this is about the closest you're going to get.

It's fine at first. It's actually nice to see his face again after so long. He looks basically the same as the last time you saw him, just a little more mature. You feel good supporting him, even if he doesn't know it.

But then it's not fine. His character had just gotten into a fight with his girlfriend, so she comes to visit him in his apartment. They talk, and eventually he reveals that he joined the army and has to go away for two years.

"It's just a couple years. Just a couple years and a lifetime together." he whispers.

Then it all hits you, and you break down crying once again. You can't help but think back to that night in the treehouse, and how the conversation is so eerily similar. You wonder if Tom was thinking about it too, while he was filming the scene. Obviously, the circumstances were different, but it still makes you wonder.

You quickly shut the TV off, unable to bear it anymore. With nothing else to do, you try to sleep, but your thoughts keep you up. And as much as you try to fight it, your mind drifts back to the day you so badly want to forget. The day that it all ended.

"Hey, Tommy, what's up? I'm excited to see you tonight!" you pick up the phone. Tom is supposed to come back to London after filming his first solo Spiderman movie, and you could not be more excited to see him. It's been almost a full year since he left for America, and you miss him so much.

"Yea, uhm, about that. Plans have, er, changed a bit." you can hear the solemn tone in his voice.

"Oh no, what happened? Did your flight get delayed or something? I know there's some rough weather in Atlanta, but I didn't realize it was that bad."

"No, no, it's not that. I don't really know how to say this," he sighs, "I'm not coming home."

Your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Yeah. I'm, um, I'm staying in America for now. I found a house in LA, it's nice."

"Well when are you coming back then?" you utter in disbelief.

"Not anytime soon. I have work, so it's just easier for me to be in America. I'm sorry." his tone is stiff.

"But what about us? I miss you so much, these past few months have already been hell for me. I don't think I can survive much longer without seeing you."

No response.

"Tom, are you still there? You know I can't move in with you. I'm already enrolled in university here in London, I can't drop everything and come to America if that's what you want."

"That's not what I want." At this point he seems to have no emotion in his voice, as if he's reading directly from a script.

"So then what do you want?" you start to really worry, tears already stinging your eyes.

"I think you can probably figure that out by now, Y/N."

"Tom, no. You seriously can't be thinking-"

"Yeah, I am thinking that. You've already said that these past few months have been hell, and I'm too busy with work, so I think that's the only option."

You plead with him, "Tom, please! We can figure this out, I love you so much. We can't break up Tom, I can't lose you." You're sobbing at this point, scared to lose the one person you need the most.

"No, we can't figure this out. We have to break up, there's no other choice."

"What happened to you and me forever? That- that night in the treehouse you said you wouldn't let anything come between us!"

"We were kids, Y/N! We had no idea what our lives were going to turn out like. That was a stupid thing to say and I never should have said it, okay? You can't keep every promise you make, especially when you're eighteen. But we're mature adults now, and the mature way to handle this is to break up. Understand?" His voice is booming through your phone speaker, and it's nothing you've ever heard come from him before. He was always calm, looking for a way to work things out. But now, he's completely giving up.

"Tom, please, I-"

"No, Y/N, I don't have time for this right now, I'm sorry. Goodbye."

He hung up. He's gone.

That was the last time you spoke to him. You didn't even get to properly say goodbye, let alone see his face before he was gone forever.

Unbeknownst to you, that phone call is still, to this day, Tom's biggest regret. Almost immediately after he hung up, he wished he had never called you in the first place. He was stressed from work, he was angry at his management team for making him stay in America, but most of all he missed you. So he did the only thing he could think of to take it all away - separate himself from you. He thought that if he broke up with you, he would feel better about his career choices and he wouldn’t have to wwc:orry about missing you anymore because it would be over.

He was wrong.

Every day since then, he’s wanted to call you, text, you, or somehow contact you to apologize; explain why he did what he did and how he still loves you, still needs you, still misses you every second of his life. But he knows he can’t. You would never be able to forgive him for breaking it all off so suddenly. There’s no way in hell you could still love him after something like that.

So he’s stayed out of reach from you for good. And he hopes that maybe one day he’ll be able to move on, find someone new like you’ve probably done by now. But deep down he knows he never will.

You’re still unable to sleep, and now that it’s almost four in the morning, you decide that you probably won’t be able to for the rest of the night. Not knowing what else’s to do, you begrudgingly roll out of bed and go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As you fill up your mug with warm water, you hear a knock at the door.

Who the fuck would be coming to your apartment this early? You suspect it’s Finn, as he always manages to forget his key. Maybe his night with the mystery bar hunk didn’t go as well as he had planned. You quickly set a tea bag in your mug and walk to open the door.

“Back so soon Fi... what the fuck.” your heart drops to your stomach.

It’s him. The same brown-haired, brown-eyed, British boy that you remember, staring down at you from outside your apartment at four in the morning.

“Hey.”

~~~~~~~~

tags: @pxkajesus @roseke @agentsofparker @lifeasjazzz @damnrancidchicken @tomhoelland01 @iwannabekilledtwice @rafehogwarts @non-eexistent @rosiexx8 @nearlydanger9 @realityisabitch07 @midgardassassins @jbreenr @cap-marvxl @ellesmythe @deepestcolorgiantopera @that-one-person @nevertrustapanda16 @rxmanxff @bubbleskz @quinn-spn58 @idkkkkaaw @aayaissaa @pjmjams @tiredstudenttrinity @isabella-bby @hollandprkr @pure-ghost @ladykxxx08 @white-wolf1940 @runawayolives @geekgirleve @thathurtbrolol @lost-girl24 @justafangirlduh @emistrash @writingrem @hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @mathletemadison @paulaabellag @miraclesoflove @captainamirica @mlmarint @quaksonhehe @laneybobeczko-g @peterspideysense @hollandstanevans @anna-sofia

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland series #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #soph writes #promises promises

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years

Note

Are u going to do a part 3 to the chilly fic its so good <3

Part 1 - Part 2

"I did something stupid" you announce as soon as Mason opens the door to his house, walking in and heading for the living room as if you were at your house.

"You? When have you ever done that in your life" the boy rolls his eyes sarcastically as you glare at him. "This is no time for jokes Mason"

"Okay come here" he claps a hand on the couch after sitting down, inviting you to sit next to him so you don't go back and forth, "What happened"

"Do you promise not to judge?"

"Hmm no but I'm listening" he retorts immediately and a groan escapes your lips as you lower your head and start to doubt at that very moment that that is the right thing to do. But if you don't tell someone, if you don't open up to him, you're gonna go crazy. So you take a deep breath and do your best not to look at him.

"Do you remember how Ben helped me that day? Well I wanted to thank him so I brought him a cake"

"Okay" Mason states looking suddenly curious as to where this is going.

"I just- I used a big plate hoping he might bring it back. But he didn't! Ugh why am I so stupid" it takes him a few seconds to realize the meaning of your words, his body straightening up at the revelation while yours almost wants to get swallowed up by the couch in embarrassment.

"You like Ben? Since when?" but still, his tone isn't judgmental, if anything curious and shocked.

"Mase"

"What? You guys are always fighti- oh"

"What oh" you look at your friend lost as he seems to be lost somewhere in his memory before returning to look at you turning slightly towards you.

"Of course! How the fuck did I miss that" he murmurs, "you acted the same way with Tim Reese when we were sixteen"

"Okay first how do you still remember Tim and second what are you talking about?!" you ask somewhat shocked as he smiles mischievously ready to strike. Oh you knew it wasn't a good idea.

"You were always nervous when it came to him and then when he got close to you you became this impassable fortress of coldness and sarcasm. The poor guy had to sweat to even get a kiss"

"That's not true" you try to defend yourself in vain.

"I might be a little offended you know, you didn't even have a little crush on me"

"Please, you're like my brother ew" you wince as he laughs shaking his head.

"So that's how it is today, it all ends over a plate?"

"It was an excuse Mase" you roll your eyes, "if he wanted to see me again he'd know how to hook me up" in short you had even sent each other a few messages, just to test the waters not knowing how far you could go at the time. But your relationship had never been just about the two of you and there was always that fear of ruining that little step forward lurking.

"Maybe who knows, he needs some kind of push too. Ben isn't the cocky guy he wants to appear after all"

"You know something I don't Mase" you look at him inspectively, him raising an eyebrow. "I won't say anything about him if I can't do otherwise"

"No mh-mh forget it" you shake your head firmly, Mason could talk to you about Ben all he wanted no one would know and you still knew how to handle a rejection by acting like nothing happened. But Ben knowing about your feelings and not returning them... no thanks, you didn't need any more embarrassment in your life to deal with.

"Well then you'll never know what he thinks of you"

"What's he even supposed to think, that I'm a crazy person who always has a say in everything and out of pity helped when I was sick" you shrug as he smiles knowingly, he's never going to tell you how worried his friend seemed in the days following your illness or how he was trying to find out something under the radar. Not if he can't tell him that he might find the door open if he wants to join your world. But as sure as hell he would have done something.

You correct yourself. That's the moment you know it wasn't a good idea to tell Mase.

He had asked you a couple of times if you were going to watch the game that saturday, he always did that when there were tough games because he said you were his good luck charm even though it wasn't true and most of the time they won or lost regardless of your presence. However, you had already cleared your whole schedule for that day and so he had extended the invitation to a drink after the game.

Nobody had lost, nobody had won. There was regret for a few wasted chances, but nothing that couldn't spur them on to do better the next game. You'd driven to the stadium in your car, not wanting to wait for Mason after the last time he'd made you wait over an hour outside, having him tell you where he wanted to go after the game and waiting for him there.

The place isn't that crowded and you can occupy a table further away, ordering something while you wait and taking the book out of your bag while resuming your reading.

"Hi" a voice makes you shift your gaze from those pages and you're bewildered to see Ben take a seat in front of you.

"Hi Ben"

"Mase said he'd meet us in a bit, he had something to do" the boy shrugs, "but I'm certainly not going to wait for him to order"

"Go ahead, I've already helped myself" you place the bookmark on the page you are on then put it in your bag and before you can let your eyes rest on Ben again, your phone alerts you to the arrival of a new message.

As soon as you see that it's Mason you get a bad feeling, and as soon as you open your conversation you see that he has sent you a picture of a diner where he is with some of the other guys. And it's definitely not the one you and his teammate are in.

"Son of a bitch"

"What?" Ben's voice makes you raise your head in alarm, suddenly you feel nervous and you want to strangle your friend and you want to bury yourself because what are you gonna do now. All while he looks at you expectantly.

"Um eh I- that wasn't meant for you" you murmur pathetically sighing and handing him your phone, "Mason's not coming"

"I don't understand" Ben looks at that picture with furrowed brows, but you can't read his expression.

"Look I'm sorry he set you up for this really. Um we can go and pretend like nothing happened" you stammer trying to pick up your bag and jacket deliberately trying not to look him in the eye and you try to get up but he stops you.

"Woah hey wait, wait. I'm not letting you go anywhere so upset" he is quick to grab the chair and move closer to you, if he wanted to calm you down he certainly isn't succeeding like this.

"Easy now, just try to explain what's going on please"

"Ben really it's not- it's just Mason okay? I just need to beat him up and then I'll be better" a soft laugh escapes his lips and you find yourself huffing but giggling at the same time.

"Nothing wrong with that. Just answer one of my questions first?" you nod losing focus for a moment as one of his thumbs starts stroking the back of your hand.

"He tried to set us up"

"Is that a question?" you ask struggling to swallow, your voice coming out weak and shaky. What's going on?

He shakes his head slightly, "Do you like me? That's my question" and if before it was difficult to find air now it seems like everything has closed for good. There you go, is that how you're going to die? In front of Ben of all people, and still before you can get revenge on Mason for that low blow?

"Cause Mason probably knows I fancy you-"

"You what?" you croak.

"-but he wouldn't have done that if he didn't know something else" his cheeks are slightly red, so he's feeling all that sudden heat too then!

"Ben I..."

"It's okay, it's okay. Look we're in the same boat here, if anything I'm a lot more exposed than you are at the moment because I've revealed to you how I feel and you haven't really let me know that I haven't really fucked up"

"No!" instinctively you lean forward and you don't know why you actually did it, but the sound of your foreheads colliding together resonates loudly. "Ouch I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh my god are you okay?" geez you feel so stupid, embarrassed like a teenager struggling with her first crush and as clumsy as you've ever been... or don't like to remember.

"I've taken worse balls" he tries to lighten the situation but your now worried look doesn't seem to want to give way to anything else as you gently test his forehead.

"What do you say we get out of here? Maybe somewhere less crowded?"

"Yes please" you find yourself nodding and after paying quickly exit the building, Ben firmly takes your hand guiding you to the opposite side of your cars.

Neither of you speak on the way, you're lost in your head trying to calm yourself down to get your thoughts in order and not embarrass yourself further. He glances at you from time to time, what he is thinking you cannot know.

You arrive at the park and after a few more minutes of walking you sit down in a fairly secluded area except for a few people walking quietly on the stone path not far from you.

"You were pretty worked up in there" Ben breaks the silence.

"Being taken by surprise throws me off. Probably if I had known you were coming I would have been prepared, and imagined all the possible situations I might find myself in"

"Do you do this often? I mean do you never live in the moment?"

"Obviously I can't predict everything that's going to happen to me in a day, but the important things I like to know in advance so I can leave the anxiety at home and not risk headbutting people" a laugh breaks free in the air and when you look at him you feel lighter, nothing like the you of moments before.

"And to answer your question, yes I like you Ben. That day you helped me I think it helped me realise that"

"Funny, I realized it that day too"

"Sorry I must have looked like a weirdo" the awkwardness comes back overpowering again as he shakes his head moving closer to you some more.

"You were cute. Different from how you show yourself to others" you smile slightly dipping your teeth in your lower lip. "Now, do you still want to beat up Mase?"

"You betcha" you reply promptly causing him to laugh, "but not right now"

#thank you anon #ben chilwell #ben chilwell blurb #mason mount

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

Only For A Moment: October + November [part one]

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: September

Note: I was originally going to post this as one longer one shot, but I’ve split it into two. I haven’t finished writing the last part of the series yet and I’ve had a really bad and busy week so I haven’t had much time to work on it. It’s planned out, I just need to write it, but posting November as two parts gives me more time to finish it.

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this story. The support has been amazing!

-----

October 2020

"Hey," I greeted Chris as I poked my head around the door of his office. "Are you busy? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

He put down the script he was reading - something for a project he'd be starting as soon as the pandemic allowed - and nodded his head.

"Sure, what's up?"

I moved into the room, feeling strangely nervous about what I was about to ask.

"How would you feel," I started. "About me going to New York for a weekend for work?"

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised by my inquiry and I rushed to assure him a bit more.

"They sent all the protocols that would be followed along with the job offer and it seems like it would be as safe as it possibly could be these days and I would drive up, not fly, so that would cut down on the chance of exposure a bit too," I assured him. "But I know that there's always a risk at the moment and it affects you and Gray too so I won't go if you're at all concerned."

Chris was smiling by the time I finished my long explanation and I felt a glimmer of hope that he wouldn't shoot down the idea immediately. I missed working and while Chris at least had 'A Starting Point' to focus on and various scripts to read through, I'd been completely out of work for months and I was ready to get back into it.

"Whitney, you don't need to convince me," he assured me. "I trust you. If you think it's safe and you want to do it then go for it."

"Okay, thank you," I let out a breath of relief. "I really do want to do it. I miss working."

"I know what you mean," he agreed. "What's the project?"

I couldn't hold back my grin as I answered that question.

"I get to go hang out with your friends," I informed him. "It's a promo shoot for Sebastian and Mackie's new show."

"Aw, man! That's great," Chris laughed. "Would you mind if I tagged along? I won't get in the way, I'll stay out of the photo shoot, but it would be nice to have a change of scenery."

"You wouldn't be allowed to come to the photo shoot at all," I warned him. "That was part of the protocol - no guests - and I don't know how many places are open there right now, there might not be much for you to do."

"I can keep myself entertained," he shrugged before flashing me a smirk. "We can leave Grayson with my mom, it'll be nice to have an adults only weekend."

"That would be nice," I agreed, matching his smirk as I followed his train of thought. We did fairly well making sure we got some quality time together, but we had to be quiet and quick and we always had the threat of Grayson interrupting in the back of our minds. "It's just a one day shoot so we'd have the Sunday together too."

"That's great," Chris grinned. "It'll be nice to get away."

"It will," I agreed, walking around his desk to lean down and capture his lips in a kiss. "Our first romantic getaway."

He slid his arm around my hips to keep me close as he smiled up at me.

"I can't wait."

November 2020

Leaving Grayson was harder than I anticipated. Considering I used to leave him with Chris every other week, I thought leaving him for a weekend would be easy, but I was a weepy mess. I held it together in front of Grayson so that he didn't get upset too - even though he was completely unbothered as he skipped off into Lisa's house - but once we got in the car, I let a few tears slip.

Of course, Chris teased me about it, but there was something in the way that he slipped his hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly that told me he was feeling it too. We’d all adjusted to our new normal and Chris and I had really embraced having Gray by our side all the time so while two days was not a ridiculous amount of time to be apart, it felt like a momentous occasion. However, after giving ourselves a few minutes to wallow in the sadness, we agreed to do our best to push those feelings aside. We deserved a weekend away. No matter how much we loved him, parenting twenty-four/seven for almost ten months was hard work especially while trying to build our new relationship.

By the time we arrived in Manhattan in the early evening, our melancholy mood had shifted. The drive, spent playing silly little car games like ‘I Spy’ and singing cheesy duets, had put us in a wonderful mood and kicked off our weekend nicely. It was a fairly long drive though so I let Chris check in while I scampered off to use the restroom in the lobby. He had the keys by the time I found him again and when we got up the room, I was shocked. It was a fancy hotel - Marvel did tend to be quite generous when it came to accommodations - but it wasn't until we walked into the room that I realized we had the penthouse suite.

"Holy shit," I gasped, looking around at the luxurious space and amazing view out over Central Park. "This has to be a mistake, there's no way Marvel would pay for this!"

"No, they wouldn't," Chris smirked as he dropped our bags and moved over to the bottle of champagne that was already chilling in an ice bucket. "But I would."

"What?" I giggled. "What are you talking about? We already had a reservation booked in my name."

"Yeah, and I upgraded it," he grinned. "I just paid the difference between the room Marvel booked and this one."

He popped the champagne and poured it for us before coming to join me at the window and handing me a glass.

"You didn't have to do that, Chris. This is a pretty nice hotel, I'm sure whatever room they booked would have been fine."

"Oh yeah, it would have been fine," he shrugged. "But fine isn't what I'm aiming for this weekend and since we can't do much outside of this hotel anyway, the least I can do is make sure we have a good room."

I was looking forward to getting back to work, but suddenly I wished that I didn't have to as the idea of a romantic weekend hidden away in our gorgeous suite seemed like the best thing in the world. But, I knew we wouldn't have come without an excuse, so I tried to focus on being grateful for the time that we did have together.

Slipping my arm around his waist and stretching up on my toes, I pulled him in for a kiss, trying to convey my gratitude and excitement for the weekend.

"Well, I can think of several things we can do in this room that will keep us very busy," I teased once our lips parted again. "We better get started now or we might run out of time..."

Chris chuckled as he took a sip of his champagne, but shook his head.

"Not yet, Winnie," he denied me, despite his raspy voice. "Why don't you take that champagne and run yourself a nice bath while I order us some room service?"

I felt a frown slide onto my face and I would have been embarrassed at my childish pout had I not been so confused about him turning me down.

"Why?" I asked. "I would have thought you'd be raring to go now that we can finally enjoy ourselves with no interruptions..."

"I am but I want to enjoy it,” Chris informed me, leaning down to nip at my neck before letting his lips hover next to my ear. "I want you relaxed and well-fed so I can take my time while I make you scream my name over and over and over."

His low voice sent shivers down my spine as his plan for the night sent a wave of arousal through me. My mouth suddenly felt dry and my brain forgot how to make words as I choked out an 'okay' and took myself off to the bathroom to do as he'd instructed.

When I wandered out into the living room area of our suite almost forty-five minutes later, I was thoroughly relaxed. Wrapped in a very fluffy white bathrobe that was at least two sizes too big for me, I announced my entrance with a contented sigh. Chris looked up at the sound and let out a laugh.

"What?" I giggled, striking a pose as I had a good idea what he found amusing. "They only had one size."

"You look adorable," he grinned at me. "C'mere, let me top up your drink."

I did as he asked, walking over to where he was sitting and noticed the cart full of food that was next to him. He'd ordered my favourite - mac 'n' cheese - and I felt a rush of love for him when I saw it. A lot of people had teased me over the years, insisting that it was more of a child's dish - something not refined enough for an adult’s palate - but it had always been one of my top choices and I was touched that he'd remembered.

He'd ordered a steak for himself and we both eagerly tucked into our meals, eating until we were almost painfully full and just barely saving enough room for the peanut butter cheesecake that he'd ordered for dessert. That was another favourite of mine and I got a stern warning from Chris - as I moaned through every mouthful - that I needed to control myself until we'd had a chance to digest our large meal. I bit back a smirk, almost tempted to continue my noises of pleasure just to antagonize him, but I reluctantly decided to behave.

After we ate, we curled up on the couch with something meaningless on the TV as we recovered from the large meal. We were half-watching it, half just basking in the contentment of our full stomachs until Chris eventually decided that we'd waited long enough.

My feet were draped over his lap as we lounged and I felt his hands slowly move from lazy stroking the tops of my feet to higher up my ankle. At first, I didn't pay much attention as I mindlessly scrolled through my phone, but as his hand trailed higher up my leg, his intentions became more clear. I fought to keep a straight face as I continued to ignore him even as his hand slid up to my knee. He kept it there for a few moments, rubbing his thumb against my skin, but he quickly lost his patience as I continued playing it cool. Letting out a soft growl, he returned his hands to my feet and with a swift tug, he moved me down the couch.

"Chris!" I giggled as my head slipped from the arm of the couch onto the cushion where my bum had been moments before. "What are you doing?"

"You were ignoring me," he smirked. "So, I took matters into my own hands."

"Maybe I was reading something important," I teased. "You're so rude."

He pulled again, moving my hips up onto his lap.

"I'm rude? We're on a romantic getaway and you're starin’ at your phone."

"Well, maybe you weren't being very interesting."

He chuckled at that, but shook his head.

"You're such a brat," he scolded. "Maybe I should just flip you over and teach you a lesson."

He moved a hand down and pinched my bum to emphasize his point and I gasped as a wave of intrigue flooded through me. Using the back of the couch for leverage, I pulled myself up until I was sitting on his lap, but the positioning was a bit awkward so I shifted and straddled him instead.

"I'm not sure if a spanking from you would be much of a punishment..."

My words made his eyes darken as his hands rubbed up and down my thighs.

"Oh, really?" He questioned and I nodded with a smile. "Well, that is very interesting information to have."

"I'm surprised you haven't brought it up before," I teased. "Since you're such an ass man."

"Shut up," Chris chuckled before forcing me to do so by pressing my lips against his.

It started off as a sweet, playful kiss, but the mood of anticipation between us quickly transitioned it into something more.

His hands moved from my thighs up to my hips as I let mine slide behind him - one rubbing the soft hairs on his neck as the other held the back of his head, keeping it firmly against my own. Our lips parted, letting our tongues bump and glide against each other and I felt a fire started to burn inside of me already.

Our position and the fact that I was wearing nothing, but a bathrobe meant that there was nothing between us other than Chris' jeans. I was pressed bare against him which became apparent when he used his firm grip to pull me even closer towards him. A gasp fell from my lips at the friction the denim caused and Chris pulled back to grin at me.

"Does that feel good?" He pressed my hips forward again as he asked the question and my eyes fluttered shut as I nodded. "Then keep going."

He titled his chin to capture my lips in another kiss as he loosened his grip on me, but his instructions had been clear. Taking matters into my own hands, I started rocking my hips slowly against his enjoying the sparks I felt every time I rubbed against him. I could feel him harden, the bulge underneath me growing bigger with every pass of my hips, and the feeling had me moaning into his mouth. I almost stood up - I almost pulled myself off of his lap and dragged him to the bedroom as my body craved him and wanted him inside me - but I remembered what he'd said. He wanted to wait, to take it slow and savour the experience so, with a smirk to myself, I continued my actions with the knowledge of his growing arousal only adding to my pleasure.

As if Chris could read my mind or feel my misguided sense of control, he tightened his grip again and pressed me even harder against him. I moaned at the sensation, pulling my mouth from his as my head fell backwards. I tried to find something to focus on, something to help me regain a morsel of self-control, but nothing in the room could distract from the pressure that was building quickly as the rough material dragged against my clit. A part of me was embarrassed to be rubbing myself against him like this, but with each thrust of my hips, a much bigger part of me grew too desperate to care.

Taking advantage of my exposed neck, Chris latched his lips onto the skin, nipping and sucking gently before tracing kisses up until his mouth was beside my ear.

"You're almost there, aren't you?" His voice was low and the way my fingers dug into the back of his neck was all the answer I could muster as his hands forced my body to keep up the steady rhythm. "I bet you're almost soakin’ right through my pants. You're so needy. Go on, Winnie, take what you want."

A whimper fell from my lips as his words sent shivers down my spine. My movements, supported by his hands, became even more frantic as I felt my release building to a peak and after a few more shifts against him, I let out a strangled moan as I crashed over the edge.

Chris continued his mumbled words of encouragement as his hands continued to force me to move until I melted against him and let my head flop onto his shoulder. My breath against his neck drew goosebumps up on his skin and I placed a soft kiss on them as I fought to control my breathing.

"How're you feeling?"

I sighed softly in response to Chris' question, fighting to make my brain function enough to form words.

"Wonderful," I purred into his ear after taking a moment to compose myself. "But I'm really dying to have you inside me..."

Without another word, Chris used his grip on my hips to lift me off his lap and onto my feet. My legs felt shaky from the strength of my recent orgasm, but they held me up as I stared down at Chris, a bit stunned by the fast movement. He looked up at me for a brief moment before raising an eyebrow and nodding his head towards our bedroom.

"Do you need me to carry you?" He questioned, his tone laced with sarcasm as he clearly noticed the quiver in my legs. "Or can you walk?"

I giggled and playfully rolled my eyes, but turned towards the bedroom. Trying to regain some semblance of power in the situation, I undid the robe that was still tied around my waist and let it fall to the floor. The action left me completely naked as I walked away and I heard a growl of approval from Chris followed by the sound of him jumping to his feet behind me. I scampered off with him hot on my heels, but he caught me in his grasp when I was a few feet past our bedroom door.

He easily lifted me off the ground and I let out a squeal as he tossed me onto the bed.

"Wow," I giggled as I flopped onto my back, leaning up on my elbows to look at him. "That was a graceful landing, real sexy."

Chris smirked as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"You're always sexy," he insisted, moving to the bed and crawling over me. "I can't get enough of you."

Before I could respond, his mouth was back on mine. I smiled against his lips and took a moment to run my hands over his toned muscles, but quickly moved them down to the belt on his jeans as I was eager to get things moving. Almost immediately, he pulled away with that damn smirk still on his face.

"Not so fast," he warned. "I said we were going to take our time."

"We already did," I whined. "Please, Chris, I want you so bad."

He dipped his head and kissed along my jaw until his lips hovered by my ear.

"And you'll have me," he assured me. "Eventually."

I let out a groan of frustration, but as he trailed his kisses lower until they reached my chest, the groan became one of pleasure. A hand slid up my side until it was level with his head and while his mouth captured one nipple, his fingers pinched the other. I gasped and arched my back up towards him, desperate to be as close to him as possible.

His actions started off soft. His fingers and lips worked in a gentle, almost teasing way that had me almost ready to whine for more, but just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he increased the pressure. His fingers pinched and tweaked one as he nipped the other and the sensation had my hips pressing up against him almost of their own volition. He chuckled as I lifted a leg to hook it over his hip, pulling him down in an attempt to find any friction as he moved to rest his chin between my breasts.

"You're so impatient," he teased. "I'm not gonna fuck you yet."

His voice was thick and rough from his own aroused state and it only made me more desperate.

"Please, Chris..." I whined. "Why not?"

Chris let his teeth graze against my skin briefly before moving further down my body, my question apparently going unanswered. He kissed his way over my stomach, an affectionate smile appearing on his face as he watched the muscles under his mouth quiver and twitch from his actions. It appeared he was intent on taking his sweet time and I really was about to start begging again when he finally settled between my thighs, pulling my legs to rest over his shoulders.

A snarky comment about him taking so long was on the tip of my tongue, but any attitude I was feeling disappeared as he pressed his tongue against me, licking upwards until he settled against my clit. I couldn't hold back the moans and gasps that poured from my lips from the sensation and for a moment, I worried I was being too loud. However, from the way Chris' fingers dug into my ass to lift me higher against his mouth, he seemed to find it encouraging.

He was focused and determined, his lazy mood from moments earlier seemingly gone and I wasn't complaining as I was already practically dripping on to the bed with need. He knew my body almost better than I did and the way his lips were locked on just the right spot, sucking with just the right pressure was driving me wild.

In a few mere minutes, I was already teetering on the edge, but when I gasped out a warning to Chris, he instantly pulled away.

I lifted my head as I let out a growl and scowled down at him - the cocky smirk on his face only adding to my annoyance.

"What the hell, Chris," I huffed. "Keep going!"

He kissed my thigh as I felt an almost painful ache between my legs.

"Patience, Winnie," he warned me. "You need a lesson in patience."

The overwhelming feeling I felt in response to that comment was frustration, but there was a hint of intrigue as well. I was at his mercy, being teased and toyed with until he decided otherwise and I'd be lying if that knowledge didn't turn me on even more.

"Do you-" I gasped as he blew against the wet place his mouth had been moments before. "Do you want me to beg?"

"It wouldn't hurt," he grinned. "But there is something appealing about the thought of seeing how long I can keep you like this..."

That idea filled me with dread. As enticing as my helplessness in this scenario was, the thought of it lasting more than a few minutes seemed painfully cruel.

"No, please don't," I pleaded. "Please touch me, Chris. Please, please. I need it so bad."

He groaned, letting his forehead rest against my thigh for a moment before looking up to meet my eyes.

"The way you say my name when you're like this drives me crazy."

He moved his hand to flick his thumb over my clit and his name fell from my lips again as a desperate whimper. That seemed to be all he needed to hear as he quickly attached his mouth back to that sweet spot.

Instantly, my hands shot to grip his head as mine fell back against the pillows. He held down my hips that were pushing up towards him, desperate to increase the friction, but it didn't matter. I was so close already, so worked up from his previous actions, that it took no time at all for the pressure he'd built up inside me to boil over as I finally found my release.

As always, he coaxed me through it, only moving back when he was sure my orgasm had faded. By the time it was done, my chest was heaving and Chris dragged himself off the bed, giving me a moment to catch my breath as he rid himself of his jeans and boxers. I smiled at the sight, but I was in a daze. My whole body felt like jelly from the two amazing orgasms I'd just received, but that didn't stop me from the moment of clarity that hit just as he was climbing back over me.

"Wait! Condom."

Chris cursed under his breath before hopping off the bed and quickly rifling through his bag. He found one - which I knew he would as I'd reminded him several times to pack them so we wouldn’t be caught without them in a moment like this - and returned to the bed.

"Hurry," I panted. "I need you."

A quiet growl rumbled from Chris' chest as he quickly tore open the condom wrapper and put it on. I was still sensitive from our previous activities, but as soon as he was on top of me again, I was pressing up towards him. He filled me with an almost insatiable need and it seemed his patience was also thin after being so hard for so long as he slid inside me with impressive speed.

I groaned from the sensation of him filling me so quickly, but any discomfort quickly shifted into pleasure as he rocked his hips against mine. My fingers dug into his shoulders as my legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer as he quickly established a steady rhythm. As much as he wanted to take his time, his restraint was clearly waning as he kept up a vigorous pace. My over sensitive state and his purposefully angled thrusts, hitting all the right nerves with just the right pressure, had me writing beneath him as I basked in the sensation.

Chris was always rather vocal, but as his moans, grunts and whispers of filthy commentary grew louder and more unrestrained it became clear that he was also edging closer and closer to his peak. His hips snapped with more ferocity and all I could do was hold onto him tightly, giving him all the control and riding the waves of pleasure he was causing.

“I’m close,” he groaned, his voice strained as his breath hit my neck.

Unable to form words, I made a noise that I hoped would convey my agreement and his movements seemed to become even more pointed and more deliberate. With every thrust, he made sure to rub against every sensitive spot inside me and moments later, I felt my release hit me. It felt like every muscle in my body tensed as I quivered and clenched around him, a sound leaving my mouth that was so lustful and unrestrained that I could hardly believe it was coming from me. He gasped out a moan of his own from the sensation of me coming around him and quickened his pace through my orgasm until eventually he stilled, the sound of his pleasure echoing through my ears.

Once we had both recovered, Chris rolled off of me, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the garbage can next to the bed before he settled on his back, chest heaving from exertion.

I let out a happy sigh as I curled into his side and his arm wrapped around me, pulling me close.

"That was amazing," I smiled, placing a kiss against his chest.

He chuckled, squeezing me even tighter as he answered.

"See? Patience. It makes everything better."

I nipped at the skin underneath my mouth.

"Shut up."

He leaned down to place a kiss on the top of my head and I smiled.

"I love you," he practically whispered in the darkness. "I'm so glad we get this weekend together."

"Me too," I agreed. "I love you too."

He squeezed me closer again as we laid there curled up in each other, basking in our post-orgasmic glow.

No one had ever made me feel the way that Chris did. I’d never felt as safe with anyone, I’d never felt so able to let my guard down, and the physical aspect of our relationship clearly benefited greatly from the closeness that we shared. It was an amazing feeling to know that we were so in tune with each other and that there was so much room to explore the things that made us feel good and, despite being fully satisfied for the time being, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to other things I would be interested in delving into as I drifted off to sleep.

November [part two]

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans smut #chris evans fic #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

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chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay · 3 years

Text

// Day 6 //

// Fame //

Tikki was pissed. Her holder had been bullied mercilessly by Lila and due to the spell cast, her Ladybug's friends can't see it.

If only she could cause the lies to backfire.

Of course!

…..

Lila giggled as the swarm of admirers asked her for another story.

"Oh. I have this story about this family from Gotham. You probably haven't heard of them, but they're a big deal over there. The Waynes. I even dated one of them. Tom."

Marinette rolled her eyes. Of course she'd go for Gotham socialites, just before the class heads to America.

"Oh it's such a shame that you can't see them on the trip."

Their class had been planning this trip for months. They raised enough money to spend a few days in a city and two or three towns. One of the cities that were excluded due to budget was Gotham. But this was so very convenient to Lila.

"Actually," a mischievous voice piped up, "Daddy graciously agreed to match the money we raised and double it. Just so we won't miss out on anything America has to offer. So we will be able to go to Gotham."

A few of the girls in the class smiled.

"That's so kind of you and your dad, Chloé," Lila said, "But we wouldn't want to be abusing your friendship."

Marinette laughed slightly as Chloé's shark grin widened, "Oh it's no problem. I've changed for the better now! And what's a better way to prove it than providing for our class. I mean Marinette does so much for this class, what's a little money?"

…..

As it turns out, the 'little money' was not little. At all.

Chloé's dad didn't just match and double the money raised. Adrien's dad added to the pile, too! Although probably not out of devotion to his son, more like devotion to not being shown up by André Bourgeois of all people. The class itself raised over a thousand more than they needed to, anyway.

Now the class budget for visiting America was worth over 10 times as much and both Bourgeois and Agreste had to be asked to stop giving money, because Marinette couldn't think of any other activities or places for the class and they couldn't reasonably spend that much.

…..

The day after summer break started, the class arrived at the airport, ready to get their trip started.

The only problem was that Marinette's ticket was missing. The whole class looked for it everywhere. Only for Rose to find it ripped up in the bin.

"Oh dear, Marinette," Lila said, feigning innocence, "It looks like you can't come!"

Alya rubbed her friends back in comfort, "Don't worry, girl. We'll figure something out!"

…..

In fact, they did figure something out. Mlle. Mendeleiev explained the situation to the front desk.

"I'm sorry ma'am, unfortunately we can't reissue you the ticket for the same seat. But there is a seat in first class free. We can upgrade Mlle. Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette scratched her neck, "I don't know. That sounds expensive."

Adrien and Chloé met each others eyes, a silent agreement was made between the two ever since Lila's spell broke. To help Marinette whenever they can.

He walked forward, "Don't worry. I'll pay."

Marinette scrunched her eyebrows, "Adrien, no! That's too much"

The lady at the front desk grinned, "No need to worry, sir. The airline will provide the seat free of charge. Have a good day!"

…..

As the class boarded the plane, Lila feigned ear pain.

"Mlle. Mendeleiev! I'm having a tremendous earache! Maybe sitting in first class will help? They have hot towels."

The teacher looked alarmed, "Lila if you have an ear infection, it can be dangerous to fly. You could burst an eardrum! Maybe you should stay here and fly out when you're better."

Lila's eyes widened, "Oh, never mind! My mind must be playing tricks!"

…..

The class landed in LA and collected their bags from the carousel. Except Marinette.

Lila, once again, faked concern, "Oh Marinette! All your clothes are gone!"

Chloé grinned, "No worries, Marinette can borrow some of mine until she figures something else out."

Alya nodded, "Mine too!"

There was a chorus of agreement from the girls (and from Kim who wasn't listening but still agreed when he realised what was happening).

Marinette smiled kindly, "It's fine guys! I appreciate the offers but that was just my night bag! I sent my bags ahead just in case something like this happened. There were only old pyjamas and a few toiletries in there."

Lila let out a low growl that nobody noticed. Except for a little red bug rat who's mischievous grin spread wide.

…..

When they reached the hotel, the class looked around in awe of the fanciness.

Marinette collected the room keys and assigned rooms to everyone, making sure to hand the Los Angeles itineraries out as well.

"Feel free to get something to eat before going to bed and meet here at 8am.

…..

Marinette woke up feeling refreshed, she checked her phone and found it was only 6am local time.

"Hmm, I'm never up this early. Must be luck!"

She opened her door to see if anyone else was awake, but on the floor outside were her suitcases.

"Oh, how fortunate! The hotel must have sent them up a few hours early."

…..

Lila looked all over the lobby, feigning concern, "Oh, it looks like Marinette isn't here. Maybe we should go ahead without her. She's probably sleeping in. You know our Marinette."

Suddenly, the automatic doors of the lobby opened to reveal Marinette carrying a coffee and wearing some of the most stylish clothes Lila had ever seen.

Her eye twitched.

…..

The class was about to climb off the bus before Marinette stopped them with an announcement.

"Okay, everyone. I need you all to listen because this is very, very important. Today we'll be visiting many attractions, including a tour of some of the studios. I tried to get tours of places that will interest at least one person. Please remember that these are places of business even if it doesn't seem like it with all the costumes and acting."

…..

Lila couldn't believe her misfortune. None of her attempts to hurt Dupain-Cheng have worked and some have even backfired right back on her.

She tried to push Marinette onto the set of a show filming live. But she just tripped herself and had to face the humility she tried to subject Marinette to.

She couldn't even pin the blame on Marinette because there were cameras pointed at the audience and if they checked they would see her failed attempt.

Lila couldn't have that.

…..

A few days later, the class packed up and headed to Anaheim, so they could spend a few days in Disneyland before heading to the next state.

The result was not great for Lila.

…..

"Oh thank you, Marinette, for saving my space, you can go now."

Marinette's face scrunched up and Adrien and Chloé were about to pounce.

But someone else bet them to the punch.

"Um… Excuse me, miss."

Lila turned around only to be met with a hair bob.

"There aren't any cuts allowed."

Lila smiled beautifully at the woman, "Oh my friend was saving this space for me."

The woman didn't look impressed, "No, cuts. Do I need to get an employee over here? I've been waiting in this line for three fricken hours, because my kid didn't wanna go on the Teacups, if I have to wait three hours to get on the Tower of Terror. So do you."

Lila was pushed out of the line by the Karen.

…..

While on the bus to Arizona, Lila got herself thinking.

'Why are my attempts of ruining Marinette, not working? Am I losing my touch?'

…..

For the next few weeks, the class had the trip of a lifetime. They visited many attractions, including the Grand Canyon, the Kennedy Space Centre and they saw alligators in Louisiana.

The class were delighted to learn that even though the road trip portion of their trip was over they still had a lot left.

They flew up to Massachusetts and spent a few days visiting tourist sites in Boston, whilst others took college tours.

Everyone was excited to visit their colleges of choice and luckily Marinette was able to arrange for train and bus tickets for day trips for anyone who wanted to visit any colleges in the second part of the trip.

Lila made it her mission to take up Marinette's offer whenever possible, just to slightly inconvenience her, but no matter what Marinette seemed happy to help. It infuriated Lila.

Every time she'd get off a bus or train, Lila would walk around the town, shopping, instead of going to colleges.

…..

Soon, the class arrived in Gotham, Lila was worried.

For some reason, people would pass by Marinette and ask for selfies, which greatly confused the class before Max found out that MDC was very famous and popular in Gotham. Apparently, the Wayne's were big fans of MDC's work and they owned several originals. Unfortunately, for Lila they were also the family she lied about and they had a connection to Marinette, her one rival.

"Oh Marinette, isn't that swell! I did mention you in passing to Tom, but he must have looked you up and liked your work!"

She knew that the likelihood of running into a Wayne was low, so she had no problem lying. But, on the day Marinette announced to the class that she and the entire class was invited to the Wayne Gala, Lila felt a pit in her stomach.

…..

Luckily for Marinette, her fame in the city got her some discounts in fabric and supply stores, so she was very easily able to get what she needed for her friends outfits.

The class was supposed to be in Gotham for a month in order to attend some summer classes in Gotham University, so Marinette (who only signed up for 3 classes) was able to get a lot done.

In fact, by the time the Gala came around she had all the outfits ready.

She made everyone an outfit.

A bouncy pink dress for Rose and an elegant but dark coloured dress for Juleka. For Alix, she made a suit that would match her favourite sneakers.

Alya had a high-necked burnt orange dress that went to her knees, whilst Chloé's high-low amber dress brought out her eyes.

Sabrina had a purple two-piece and Myléne had a green floor-length dress.

For the boys she made suits with their own flare, to avoid a uniform look.

She even made Lila a dress, but the girl refused to wear it in favour of a dress she bought during one of her 'college tours'.

…..

"My father will be furious when he learns that I went to a Wayne party in clothes that he didn't make," Adrien joked with Marinette and Chloé.

Lila let a shark grin take over, "Oh, Adrien, you shouldn't let Marinette get you in trouble. They're only clothes. Maybe you should change. Maybe we should all change, just in case."

Adrien shook his head whilst waving Chloé off, "No, Lila. I was only joking."

(For once, Lila was right. Gabriel was furious that his clothes didn't get into a Wayne party but a teenage girl's did. But it wasn't like he could do anything about it, while they were in America)

…..

When the class exited their stretch limo. The paparazzi outside the Manor ooh'd at their clothes. Lila decided to go last just so her outfit can have the most climactic admiration.

When Marinette stepped out, wearing a navy halter high-low with sparkly stones sewn in a way that emulated the night sky, the crowd shushed.

Marinette was about to hide her face in embarrassment, 'They don't like my dress.'

Suddenly, the crowd broke into whispers of curiosity and admiration.

"Look at her dress. It's gorgeous."

"Is that an MDC original?"

"Is that MDC herself?"

Lila smiled, 'If these guys think her dress is nice. Wait till they see mine.'

She stepped out and, well, it was anticlimactic.

The praise slowed and turned into more of a polite murmur.

"Oh her dress is… nice."

Her dress was a grey spaghetti strap that went to her knees. It was actually a nice dress but it was not formal at all and made Lila stick out like a sore thumb.

'I should have just taken Dupain-Cheng' s stupid dress.'

…..

As the class entered the Manor, they were greeted by a young man, who Marinette and Chloé both recognised from their Business class in Gotham U.

"Tim? I didn't know you'd be here?"

Tim laughed gently, "Well, it's kind of my family's party so I have to be here. Trust me I'd rather be anywhere else."

Chloé smirked, "Oh, you're a Wayne? Lila here, used to date one of you. Tom was it, Lila?"

Lila shrunk back, "Oh no! You must have misheard me. I never said I dated a Wayne."

"Yes, you did."

Everyone turned to look at Max, "I have an eidetic memory and you definitely said, and I quote, 'I have this story about this family from Gotham. You probably haven't heard of them, but they're a big deal over there. The Waynes. I even dated one of them. Tom'."

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion, "Well actually that's a coincidence, I also have an eidetic memory and we don't have a Tom. We have a Tim, and that's me. And I've never dated a Lila."

The class had varying facial expressions, but all of them had one emotion in common. Hurt.

Rose gently pushed out, "Were you… Lying to us, Lila?"

"No, I-I wasn't, I just-"

Alya almost cried, "I almost cost my whole journalistic career for you! Marinette stopped me from posting about you onto the Ladyblog. If she wasn't there, I would be ruined!"

The class all came to their own realisations.

"If Marinette didn't send off my application, instead of letting me rely on you--"

"If she didn't push us to continue--"

"Marinette knew and we didn't believe her," Nino said, "I'm very sorry, Marinette."

"Me too!"

"Same."

"Yeah."

She smiled at them graciously, "It's alright, guys! You learnt in the end and you didn't know any better."

Lila looked around frantically, "Why isn't the spell working? It should be working!"

"Spell?"

Alya walked forward, "Lila, what spell?"

Chloé spoke up, "She was given the power to make anyone believe her lies, unless they have been given undeniable proof."

The class looked at her in confusion.

"Hey, I actually knew Ladybug, remember! Unlike her."

…..

Tim sat beside Marinette, "So…"

"My classmate has been lying about famous people including your family for years?"

"And…"

"She keeps her victims under a spell, so they can't learn the truth."

"... Ladybug?"

Marinette grinned, "One of our superheroes. Chloé used to be one and revealed her identity. She isn't anymore."

His face was scrunched in confusion, "You know, Gotham is really fucking weird but I've never heard anything like that."

"Eidetic memory?"

Tim sighed, "I am technically, kind of, very much knowledgeable on… Things."

She smirked, " 'Things'. Timothy you are so very specific," She teased, "I don't even need you to clarify."

He knocked her shoulder against hers, "I've been meaning to ask…"

"Oh more than usual?"

"Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Marinette. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to dance."

He held out his hand.

Gently she took it, "I'd love to!"

Tim looked down at Marinette's dress, "Is that an MDC original? I love her work! Where did you get it?"

Marinette deadpanned, "What are my initials Tim."

"... OH!"

"Do you not have Twitter? People have been tagging me all month."

Tim smiled sheepishly, "Okay to be fair, I'm a dumbass and my pregame to any events like this is to drink a shit ton of coffee every day for a month."

A man who very obviously knew Tim walked by and looked at him incredulously, "Tim, that's your pregame to waking up every morning!"

Tim glared at him, "Fuck off, Jason!"

@timari-month-event

Buy me a coffee?

#i spent so long on this #*throws this into crowd* APPRECIATE ME!#timari #Timari January #Timari Month #Day 6 Fame #buy me a coffee #Pls #i'm poor #Commission me if you like this lmao

273 notes · View notes

helpinghanikan · 3 years

Text

Hot Date

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Sum: It shouldn't have to be said that SHIELD researchers aren't allowed to date their wards. But that doesn't stop the romantic tension from forming between you. The real question is, whose feelings will be most affected when the tension finally boils over?

Anomalous weapons supervisor was typed out on your paychecks, but babysitter would be a better description. Diplomas, experience and more resulted in your butt on bleachers. Watching the important people play around with powers few in this world understood.

Whoever designed this area probably didn’t know who exactly would be using it. It had the basics; a track for running, mats for sparring and weights for lifting. With more off the wall items thrown in that might be useful to the superpowered individuals using it. Like the massive metal balls being lifted and lowered by the red magic of your charge. Or one of your charges at least.

‘Wanda seems to have complete control of her powers. Whether these powers are coming from her mind or some sort of muscle in her hands has yet to be known.’ You type out just intime to get a guest sitting to your right.

“Can I get an autograph when your book is finished?” Pietro has been working on his accent, so had Wanda. As much pride as the two had they were still looking to adapt. But there were still hints of it on certain words. Especially when he’s this close not really trying.

“Only if I get to sign those tits.” Obviously, a joke, but you still had to take a quick glance to the camera. Just in case you get dragged into a meeting and this comes back up about your unprofessional comments. Not that it would stop your work.

“I can live without the signature,” Wanda’s voice, although distant, echoed in the wide space. “You’ve spelt many things wrong anyhow.”

Few people could say they were as close to the Maximoff twins as yourself. Even after the discovery of an alien/god, of the defrosting of a super-solider and the destruction from a billionaire people were wary of the twins.

It was through simple respect that Wanda had warmed up to you. You hadn’t talked to her with artificial kindness, didn’t look to the guards when her voiced raised even the slightest. No, you had asked how she was (the room was too hot for her), if she needed anything (just wanted to know how much longer she was going to be questioned), if she liked coffee or tea (tea is preferred), and how she was doing, really doing (she was tired, you all were).

It was another story for Pietro. Only trusting you after Wanda obviously saw you as a friend. Taking his own time to warm up after getting the same genuine experience you offered rather the blunt questions and stupid statements. It was the dinner you invited them to that sealed the deal. Nothing brings people together more than a lot of meat, the warm feeling of alcohol and a quiet afternoon with a food coma.

“What have you written?” Pietro asks, your laptop now in his hands.

There’s no point in trying to stop him when he snatches things. A child who had to move fast for food and safety makes petty theft a hard habit to beat. Not to mention Wanda already knew everything that went into your daily reports with a blink of her eye, it was seemingly only fair that Pietro got to know to.

“Same stuff I was doing yesterday, and the day before and the day before that and the-.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” Pietro says, used to the child like taunts and knowing to stop you early.

With nothing of interest on said laptop he turned it back over to you. Taking his place leaning against your shoulder as you begin to work once more. Only speaking up to ensure you add in the correct description of his improvement.

These reports were supposed to be done without the twins knowledge. You were supposed to be a spy on the side of the government. Although it was blamed on Wanda’s mindreading in reality you had never tried to hide them. These friendships were genuine, resulting with the man practically putting himself in your lap to try and keep your attention.

"How much longer do we have to do this ‘training’?” Although a grown man Pietro could act like a little boy sometimes. When he’s done, he’s done. Taking whatever actions needed to get through his current situation and move on.

“For as long as the door is closed, Pietro.” Wanda has set the metal down. Taking slow steps to reach her brother and friend. “She would likely go faster without you hanging on her.”

There is no smooth way to say this; Pietro is a big spoon. Any chance he gets a hug or to hold someone results in being overwhelmed in lean muscle. Pietro was the only warmth during those impossible cold nights as newly orphaned children. His legs and arms creating a shelter that protected his chosen from any harm from ever happening. You were one of chosen now, which explained the face made at having to get up.

“Alright kids, let’s head home.” You say, slapping the laptop closed for effect.

You were one of several who kept an eye on the twins throughout the day. Wanda and Pietro pretended not to notice how certain employees just happened to always be in the hallway when walking through. Or the little cameras that were hidden in plain sight among the decorations in their quarters. And that’s not including all the mom aged agents “just checking in” at random times, complete with the sing song voice and overuse of the word “sweetie”.

On any other day you would have followed them into their quarters. Give them a recommendation for the TV and even stay awhile to watch it with them. A chime from your phone changing the day’s proceedings. It’s only a second-long hesitation that announces this change to the twins.

Pietro says your name in a tone different than the one earlier. It’s a tone of concern that snaps your head up at him. Wanda hanging around the quarter’s entryway, staying close enough to be apart of the conversation.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, now with your attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, I just got a…you know, a hot date.” You turn your phone to face him. Not long enough for him to read the entire message but enough to know that you weren’t completely hiding anything “I’ll see you guys later. Brush your teeth before going to bed, I’ll know if you don’t.”

Before Pietro or Wanda could give a retort the door slid shut.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asked the only other person in the room.

Wanda didn’t answer. Rather tilting her head towards her brother. Rolling her eyes when he asked “what? Wanda, what?”

Although officially a desk agent there were times the field required someone of your talents. When this happened, all other duties had to be dropped in exchange for an outfit change and a fancy car shared with your accompanying field agent. Natasha has been your designated agent since the first field mission and could now be considered a friend.

It would seem the babysitter had become the baby. Including having your clothes laid and being helped into them before reaching the car.

“You’re an heiress looking for some expensive decorations and I am your lovely assistant and translator for the evening.” Natasha says, holding the under-suit’s legs open for you to slip into. “We’ll show up fashionably late. You are incredibly rich and important and better than all of them. So, don’t make eye contact with anyone, and try not to say anything, they’re below you.”

Unlike fulltime field agents you weren’t trained enough to go without serious protection. Not just in the form of an accompanying agent but also in a (jokingly called) bullet proof onesie. So, fitting it was essentially a bullet-proof wetsuit that stopped at the knees and elbows. Making the clothes to wear over it something with long sleeves, past the ankles and covers the neck. Sunday school appropriate for this event.

“Can I fake an accent? Like, German?” It was a dumb question for you to ask, but the ride to the gallery was already taking longer than it should.

“Hmm, Let’s hear it.” Natasha doesn’t look up from her phone but still sounded interested.

“Vell-,”

“Stop.”

Very special pieces were being auctioned off tonight. Invite only without any advertisements to say what’s up for grabs to outsiders. Although the windows were blacked out and authorities were paid off (but obviously not enough) supposedly nothing for sale was illegal. But if that were true you wouldn’t have found a seat in the front row.

The language of the night was deeply European. One or two words you could maybe guess what they meant but there was no way you could name it. Nat knew it though; it kept her ears perked to the room and her mouth right next to your ear for most of the night.

First items up were the typical rich people arty stuff; vases and paintings that probably represented something to someone if you squinted. Those went for a year’s paycheck in minutes. It was after the third portrait of some lady now long dead that Nat placed a hand on your back, just below the neck.

“Next up is ours,” she whispered. “you’re doing good and you’re doing great.”

The entire night was spent with better manners than an office setting could ever be. Back straight, eyes forward, and no one is allowed to make eye-contact. It’s only when the target was wheeled in that your mask was starting to slide.

Genuine HYDRA blueprints for a titanium prosthetic. White ink on blue paper with decades old coffee stains and tiny tears, spread up and out under protective glass like a butterfly. Although Mr. Barnes had a serious upgrade with the Vibranium he now used. But these blueprints showed just how advance the original was for the time.

Sitting forward as it’s wheeled by wasn’t enough to authenticate the prints. Something you easily communicated to Agent Romanoff with just a look.

It was a bad idea, it called why too much attention, but Agent Romanoff whipped her head towards one of the several employees of the auction. Curling her finger at them to get them over and in her speaking line.

She speaks quickly, and with an edge to her voice, to the employee. With only a few words back that same employee returned to his post and spoke to the next man in charge.

“They going to invite a few of us up to inspect the piece,” Agent Romanoff whispers, “You’re going to have to be fast, we’re going on stage.”

Others in the audience made their way onto the stage when invited. Agent Romanoff ensures that you are somewhere in the middle of it. Heels and heavy shoes making creating white noise for your work to be done.

In all HYDRA’s documents, blue-prints and almost everything else their symbol was hidden throughout it. A little game of where’s the octopus in two places. A large, but translucent, icon covering the center. And a smaller one in the bottom right-hand corner, hidden behind the creator’s signature. Reproductions never had the smaller symbol, but the stains and fingerprints ensured you were right.

Later, during the debrief, you would be lectured about the importance of subtlety and espionage. But how was the look you gave Agent Romanoff any different than how others were looking at their people?

After that (completely natural and not at all suspicious) nod Natasha’s arm was around your back. This was part you were suddenly feeling ill. This was the part your assistant/translator/arm-candy would escort you out with just enough urgency and demands for the bathroom that you’d be gone before everyone was in their seats. Apparently this was also the part a sudden security guard fires twice into your chest.

“Watch your head.” Although not yelling Agent Romanoff’s voice was firm.

It's hard to say which was scarier; the bullets aiming firing for your death or how calm and professional Agent Romanoff was about it all. Although, few rounds were actually fired inside the auction hall.

Agent Romanoff shot an arm out to the first security. Pushing his gun up and inward quick enough to catch his jaw and take him out of the game. Agent Romanoff keeping the downed man’s sidearm for herself.

That was really the only bit of action you clearly saw that night. When things go wrong in the field it’s the agents job to remove their ward from the situation with minimal injuries. As the researcher your job was much simpler; don’t die. “Keep your head down, use your arms to protect yourself and trust your agent.” Was hammered in during field training. With this mantra running over and over you weren’t in the position to watch the mess happening all around.

“Someone, call the police!” It takes a second to realize it’s Agent Romanoff yelling this. In a panicked, almost shrill, voice that practically screamed ‘we’re being victimized!’

With all the guests now properly riled up it was easier to exit the building. Allowing the oncoming mod to carry the two of you out of the building without much more fuss from security. Trying to kill an agent was one thing but killing a rich connected person (or worse their spouses) would be on an entirely new issue.

Someone stepped on your foot. Another put an elbow in your rib harder than the bullets. And a third open hand pushed you, and your agent, right out the door and onto the street. It was only through the strength of Agent Romanoff, and your handling of flats, that this mission could be considered successful.

The blueprints were already being tracked and followed by the time you’re stripped down to underwear. The pretty clothes had to be taken removed, the makeup wiped off, hair undone, and the bullet proof onesie had to be taken away. Simple tank-tops, shorts and a coat were worn on the journey home. By the time it’s all off, and you’re finally walking into the apartment, it shouldn’t be surprising how you looked to others.

“Have a good time?” It takes a second to realize it’s just the roommate asking the question.

It’s expected that any roommate a SHIELD employee takes on would also be with SHIELD. The two of you weren’t in the same division or even security level part of why living together worked out so well. She was in the know enough to hear you complain but enough in the dark to keep any secrets from getting out.

“Yep, had a real banger of a night.” Although a friend and technical coworker you couldn’t disclose too much about the missions. At least not until the green light is given by the higher ups. Instead, you can only give the people something to speculate about. “Can’t wait to see what the bruises are going to look like tomorrow.”

Spoiler alert: the bruises looked like hickeys. Something noticed by Roommate but keeping quiet about it in exchange to heading out early. Ready with the latest thing to share with the office mates.

Just like any working environment gossip is always somewhere underfoot. After being dragged in by someone who couldn’t leave it at home it’s then latching onto everyone who came close enough to hear it. Most ignore it, others listen then forget and others drag carry it further into the workplace. Until researchers leaning against the wall talk too loudly and Pietro catches a few too many words.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asks once the housing area’s door shut. Quickly clearing things up with the use of your name.

“I’ve haven’t seen them yet.” Wanda doesn’t care enough to close her book but does enough to look up.

“No, yesterday. Before they left, someone messaged them. Who was it?”

Wanda shrugs and returns to her book, but there’s a smile there.

“You know who it is,” He says, now on beside her. “Tell me.”

“I can’t say for sure,” She’s smiling again. Only a slight glance at Pietro. “but I think he may be very handsome.”

The siblings argued as siblings do. With Wanda teasing as sisters do. All of this could be heard before you even made it to the door. Standing at its threshold to listen as the two go at it.

“Natasha will tell you the same, Pietro.” Wanda says, probably aware that you were in hearing distance. “And she says he can do more than simply be handsome.”

Although you say nothing Wanda grins at you.

The gossip overheard is just words without evidence. Just enough to get Pietro thinking but not enough to create any serious emotions. But the “evidence” to create those emotions was now standing in the room. Small marks darker than your natural skin was peaking out from the lower neckline.

To you, they were simple bruises, nothing worth trying to hide, even something to brag about to the other desk workers. To Pietro it was marks of another person, something that pursed his lips and marched away from. Doing so slowly, to be sure that both you and Wanda were aware of how upset he was.

“I missed something.” You say, setting everything down on the counter.

Wanda has a habit of sneaking into other people’s minds. The mission, the shots and the everything was slowly being filed through in the back of your head. A pressure at the base of your neck screaming that there was an intruder.

“Stop it.” You snapped, but Wanda only smiles back.

“How was your ‘hot date’?” She finally asks.

“Is that what he’s…sonofabitch. Pietro!” There are only three rooms in this section of the compound. One being Wanda’s, another Vision’s and the third Pietro. Making it easy enough to find the pouting grown man.

“What?” He asks upon your entering.

There isn’t a response on your part for moment or two. Spending that time going to the room’s corner. Standing on tiptoes to find that switch that definitely doesn’t exist on the camera. Shutting it down for the time being before turning to start your explanation.

“You can turn that back on.” He says from his place on the bed. “There’s nothing bad we need to talk about.”

“So, you don’t wanna hear about how I was shot in the tit?”

Manners were out the window at this point. Pietro openly looking towards your chest. Back up to your face, and back down to your chest. “You were shot? They look more like…”

“They’re not hickeys, I was shot a few time through a suit.” Frustration was starting to build up. It was overflowing when you finished with “You really should know about being shot.”

The hurt on his face screamed. He didn’t look away but stayed staring forward right at you. “Pietro, I’m so…I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It hurts,” He says. “Being shot, it really hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Even as you walk around to sit beside him Pietro stares at where you were. Listening to your apology but not saying much else. Until he dares to lean against you. Something more than cuddling with a friend this time around. “I get it, I get you’re scared and all that. And I really like you, Pietro, I like you more than I am allowed to.”

It’s hard to say who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. It was happening, and it was so much more than a something between friends.

“When that camera comes back on this didn’t happen.” You say in a moment of separation for air.

“What happens when the camera goes off again?” He asks, thumb rubbing over the bruise.

#reader insert #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #quicksilver x reader #Pietros' alive au #One shot #Fluff kinda #Angst kinda #This is based on that window between 2012-2016 when everything was happy for the Avengers #Requested on my AOW #Not used to writing these kind of stories

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Show Pony

Chapter one - Big Sky

Also on Ao3

Billy doesn’t give a fuck about the rodeo.

He doesn’t care about country music, or fancy horse riding, or the beauty queens, even the bull riders.

What he does give a fuck about it not being in his house today.

Not when his dad was obviously itching to pick a fight. Not when Max gave him such an easy out over breakfast.

“I saw a flyer for a rodeo. I think it’d be kinda neat.”

It was in town for four more weeks.

And Billy could tell the second he and Max bought tickets, he was about to be spending more time than he ever fuckin’ thought he would spend at a rodeo.

He based that on the way Max’s eyes lit up the second she stepped inside the big fairgrounds.

Not knowing that he was right. He was about to spend a lot of time at the rodeo.

But not for Max.

For himself.

And a pretty horse rider named Steve.

He didn’t see Steve that first day.

Was too busy shelling out his own hard-earned cash to buy Max sugary funnel cakes. Sitting next to her watching the poor suckers get bucked off their pissed-off bull.

But when Max was in the car she turned to him, the sun setting outside, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Can we come back tomorrow?”

And the tickets were dirt cheap. And Billy hates being at home.

So they did.

And they watched the rodeo queens.

And the team-roping.

But it wasn’t until the calf roping that Billy felt his heart sink.

Because he thinks Steve Harrington might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Tall and broad, smiling like sunshine at his gorgeous black quarter horse, patting her strong neck and leading her to the entry point of the arena.

His name was loudly announced after the event name.

Calf roping, with our very own Steve Harrington! Steve will navigate his beautiful June into the arena, trying to rope and tie down a calf as quickly as possible!

Billy had tuned out everything but his name.

Leaning forward on his bench seat to watch him lead June up to the starting line, give her a few more pats before swinging one leg up, heaving himself up and over her back, settling into the saddle with a grace Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to describe.

Steve appeared to shake himself out, leaning forward over June’s neck to speak quietly to the sleek horse, wiggling his hips a bit in the saddle.

And then he sat back up, readying himself and waiting for the countdown.

He was off like a fucking shot.

Billy’s never seen anything fucking like it.

June kicked up dirt as she thundered through the arena behind a small herd of a few calves, Steve ducked low against her neck as he led her forward, his lips moving as he spoke quietly to her, egging her on and forward. He was clinging to her for dear life, his legs straining as he was tossed up and down in the saddle.

And then he let go of her reins, one hand reaching for the rope on his belt.

And it was the most hick shit he’s ever seen.

This flannel-wearing cowboy on his perfect fucking horse, roping a baby fucking cow.

He slipped the knot around it from his perch on the moving horse, lassoing it easily like that was a common skill, and with a fluid practiced movement, he tossed himself off the slowing horse, getting on one knee to tip over the calf and tie it up like it was second nature.

And maybe it was. Performing in a show like this.

That’s all it was, a performance. Practiced and rehearsed over and over for Steve and June.

It was over in a blink, Steve tossing his hands up to show he was finished, and the calf didn’t break its bonds.

The whistle blew and Steve’s time was read to the arena. Nine seconds. And apparently, nine seconds was a good time, judging by the way Steve’s raised his fists in the air, and patted June’s neck so gently.

He mounted back on his gorgeous horse as the calf he had roped was released by a few of the rodeo workers and the next guy took his position at the starting line.

Steve did a lap around the arena of June’s back, smiling and waving to the crowd.

And maybe Billy just has an overactive imagination.

Maybe his stupid gay brain was looking for something not there.

But he could’ve sworn he saw Steve grin just a little bit brighter in his direction.

There were a few riders after him. Competing to earn a faster score on the same track.

But Billy didn’t give a fuck about calf roping if he wasn’t watching Steve and June.

The sun was setting as Billy finally led Max out of the fairgrounds, one hand on the top of her head, steering her towards the Camaro.

“So, you think we can come back next weekend” Max was giving him a big shit-eating grin, powdered sugar all done her front from the final funnel cake Billy had shelled out to buy her.

“Don’t see why not. Get’s us outta the fuckin’ house, don’t it.”

“Plus, there are lots of good-looking cowboys, just everywhere. Did you see the guy doing the cattle roping, or whatever? He was cute .” Billy rolled his eyes. Max was just touching the age when she stopped thinking of boys as gross, saw them as cute, and whatever else she said. It also made her realize that having a gay brother apparently meant talking about nothing but boys. It made Billy wanna slam his head into the steering wheel. He grunted in response as she kept going on and on about Steve.

Like Billy didn’t see the way his thighs gripped the sides of his horse, like he didn’t watch as he hurled himself off June to tie up the fucking calf. Like he didn’t watch him take that fucking victory lap, shit-eating grin looking like home on his pretty fucking face.

“You gotta carry your own weight, you know that, right Shitbird? I’m talking, pay for your own damn fried shit.” He bets Susan would give him money for tickets if he acts real nice this week.

He can’t blow all his savings at the fucking rodeo of all things this summer. He’s got plans for the wad of cash burning a hole in the shoebox in the back of his closet.

Max huffed at him.

“What am I supposed to do? Get a job? I’m thirteen .”

“So? Babysit or some shit. Rob an ATM. Fuck if I care. Just quit stealing all ‘a my goddamn cash for your fuckin’ funnel cakes .”

“You’re just pissed off because you didn’t try one. They’re the best. You gotta have one next week.”

“I, unlike you, care about what I put in my body.”

“Yeah, because cigarettes and beer are so much better than fried dough .”

“Whatever.” The truth is, Billy’s gotta watch what he eats. Max didn’t know him when he was prepubescent and chubby. He can’t be sitting there shoving funnel cakes in his mouth and not expect it to all go to his gut. Not like her. There’s not an ounce of fucking baby fat on her. She’s positively scrawny. If anything, the funnel cake might help her out a bit.

“Yeah, whatever .” She huffed, slumping back in her passenger seat. “But can we come back?”

“Fuck, if you keep askin’ me, the answer’s no .”

She huffed again. She does that a whole lot when they talk.

“Don’t act like you didn��t like it. I saw the way you were watching Steve race. You were practically drooling .”

Billy clenched his jaw.

“Was not .”

“Was too .”

And Max had a knack of leading Billy into moments like this, childish little arguments that made him feel kinda weird inside. Made him feel kinda warm at how sibling it was. Like they hadn’t been forced together just a few years ago.

For all his bitching, he really did like the little spit. If he didn’t, he’d be a bigger asshole than she’s always accusing him of being.

“You don’t even know what I look like when I’m really eyeing a boy, if you think that was it. Just, you know. Respected his riding.”

“ Respected his riding. Yeah ‘cause you wish he was riding-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m pushing you out of the fucking car.”

“I’m right, though.”

Billy just reached forward to turn up the radio, letting Dee Snider drown out any other awful shit Max wanted to say to him.

Which was probably showing his hand too much. No direct answer pretty much means affirmative when it comes to Billy. And yeah, Max knows that. Judging by the way she’s cackling like a goddamn gremlin over the sound of the music.

He just pressed his foot down further on the gas pedal, letting them fly down the highway.

And he thought about Steve and June, thought about how fast Steve could press that girl to go. Thought about him leaning forward, flattening himself to the horse’s neck, gripping onto the reins and urging her forward, urging her faster.

And if he thought about those strong legs wrapped around him, if he thought about what Max was about to say, Steve riding Billy like he would that fucking horse, his hips flexing as he bounces up and down, well, that’s his business.

And the next Saturday, Susan slid him a crisp twenty-dollar bill to buy Max some lunch at the rodeo.

They took it more seriously this time, bringing water bottles, and Max slathering thick white sunscreen on her freckled skin.

Billy even wore shorts, some old jeans he sacrificed to the summer gods when he wore holes in the thighs and chopped pretty much in half.

And it was kinda fun.

He knew what to expect now. Knew the barrel racing was all women, all beautiful horses winding their way along clover-shaped tracks. He knew that the bull riding was a little more fun to watch with a shot in him, and that his fake i.d. could get him an alcohol wristband from the tent at the front.

Max sneered at him when he bought himself a beer later in the day.

“Uh, you know you have to drive me home, right? Like, and not crash your stupid car on the way home.”

“Fuck off. It’s one beer.”

“And also that shot earlier, and I know you have a flask.”

“Okay, what are you, the cops? I’m just tryna enjoy myself in this blistering fucking heat. I don’t exactly get my rocks off to any of this shit.” Which is a lie. He’s totally sold on every stupid fucking event at the motherfucking rodeo.

“Fine. You wanna get stupid and drunk? Then you have to take me to the pageant. I wanna watch it.”

“Since fucking when do you give a shit about the pageant .” Max glared at him. Her nose was beginning to get red.

Maybe if Billy were less of a shithead he would tell her to put some sunscreen on. But she was really testing his patience today.

And then her eyes went huge, and her jaw went slack, and Billy was just about to tell her to close it and quit lookin’ like a dead fuckin’ fish when he heard someone cough slightly behind him.

And when he turned, he almost made the exact same stupid dead fish face as Max.

Because gorgeous cowboy Steve was standing right in front of him. In another cracker of a flannel shirt, stupid blue jeans, and fucking cowboy boots, because yeah. He’s a goddamn hick that rides a horse and ties up calves in a traveling rodeo for a fucking living.

And God save Billy, because hot damn.

Steve had an easy smile on his face, a little bit lopsided, and perfect white teeth showing between perfect pink lips.

“Hey there.”

“Howdy,” Billy responded before he could stop himself, his face burning up.

He was hoping he was already sweaty enough Steve wouldn’t notice the flush.

But thankfully, Steve’s smile went wider, and he laughed, this gorgeous bright laugh, his head tossing back, and that thick hair flowing easily.

He had gold streaks in his hair, lighter browns tussled within the darker colors. Billy wondered if they were natural, days spent out in the sun on his horse. Part of him hoped they weren’t. Part of him hoped that Steve was that intentional with himself and his goddamn hair.

He smiled at Billy.

“I’m Steve.”

“We saw you. Last weekend,” Max blurted out before Billy could kick her. She looked shocked that she had even spoken when Billy turned to give her a death glare. But Steve just laughed his gorgeous laugh again.

“And what’d you think?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you on the way home.” And Steve was back to looking at Billy, and his eyes are so fucking big, like, who’s eyes are just. Like that. Just fuckin’. Big.

“And what about you, uh-”

“Billy. And this is Max. My sister.”

“Well, Billy,” and fuck Billy nearly creamed himself at the sound of Steve saying his name. “Did you like my display of talents ?”

“Could say so. I don’t give too many shits about all this hick farm stuff. But I can respect it.”

“Well, that’s alright then.” And Steve reached out to pat Billy once on the shoulder. “I hope I see y’all around. I gotta head off, June needs some TLC before our time.” He smiled at Max, and her already red face flushed deeper, almost blending into the roots of her flaming hair.

And then he doubled back.

“You know what, I forgot why I came over here in the first place.” He was digging through his jeans, rummaging around in his back pockets.

Billy wanted to slide his hands in there, cop a feel while he helped Steve look for whatever he was going to offer Billy.

And then Steve brought out two white wristbands.

“They’re for, uh, VIP seating and stuff. If you’re interested. Gets you closer to the arena. That way I can just see what you look like after I’m comin’ off a ride.”

Hoo boy.

This little cowboy has some fucking charm.

And he knows it too, judging by his smug little half-smile he gave Billy while he fastened the wristband around his wrist.

He helped Max with hers, doing it faster than he had Billy’s, and with a lot less eye contact, which was a good sign. He’s not perving on his twelve-year-old sister. Which is cool.

And then he was looking back at Billy, and brushing his long fingers over the tops of Billy’s shoulders, his arms out in his shirt, the arms torn off an old Aerosmith t-shirt he found at the Goodwill last year.

“You should reapply sunblock. Don’t want you burning now.” And Billy’s sure if Steve was wearing a Stetson, he woulda tipped it at them. “Enjoy the pageant.”

And he was off, and Christ, those jeans. How did Steve even successfully ride his horse in those things? They were so tight, showed off his nice peachy ass as he walked through the fairgrounds.

“Wow,” Max said. And yeah, Billy felt the same.

“In case it wasn’t clear, based on the way he was flirting with me, and also that he’s way too old for you, but, uh, dibs .”

“Billy, you can’t just call dibs on a person.” Billy just laughed.

He knows that his twelve-year-old fucking sister doesn’t have a shot in Hell with Steve. Really, he doubts he even has a shot in Hell with Steve, but he also likes to spend his time making her life as difficult as possible without actually being a shitty person. So, he just riles her up. Says shit that’ll get her going. He wouldn’t be doing his brotherly duties if he didn’t say that shit.

Max calls it even by kicking him in the shin twice and making him watch the stupid beauty pageant.

Which, like, why the fuck are there beauty pageants at the rodeo anyway?

Turns out it wasn’t pageant at all, but the four previous Miss Rodeo’s all lined up and looking far too glammed out for this fucking heat.

Max faked being disgruntled by the disappointment, but Billy knows, somewhere inside that tough bitch little soul of hers, she’s glad she didn’t have to sit through a goddamn pageant just to make Billy miserable.

Besides, Billy had whipped out his flask a few times, and he was feeling alright. Just buzzed enough that the heat had stopped making him feel quite so disgusting.

But not too drunk to miss calf roping.

And yeah, maybe it was a little bit lame to make their way over to the VIP seating earlier enough that they scored the front row. But when Steve came trotting out, leading June behind him, Billy was close enough he could pick out the cluster of moles on Steve’s left cheek.

So, lame was not in Billy’s vocabulary today.

It was pretty much the same thing as last week. Steve made everyone in the arena ooh and aah with his riding, tied up the calf in less than ten seconds once again.

But this time, when he took that jaunty little lap around the small arena, Billy knows for a fact Steve grinned at him. Knows his stupid gay brain wasn’t making up the wink he tossed effortlessly in Billy’s direction.

And they left, just like last weekend, as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon.

“Just, c’mon. Mom gave you money .” Max was whining for a corn dog, of all things. When they have perfectly good, not fried food, at home.

“Maxine, I swear to Christ, I’m fucking tired. Let’s go home so I can crash, and you can fucking drive Susan up the goddamn wall with your whining.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too bad.” And Billy felt his insides curdling at that voice, felt himself wilting and shriveling because he would not be getting out of this day without one final, no doubt embarrassing, encounter with his gorgeous cowboy.

Steve was leaning against a booth selling chili fries, looking like a perfect picture of a Clint Eastwood movie.

Billy had never liked westerns.

But he was gonna go home and spend all night watching every one he could get his grubby little hands on.

Steve pushed off the side of the booth as Max found her words again.

“You don’t have to live with him.”

“And you don’t have to live with my folks. I’d trade you any day.”

And Billy nearly died. Right there. On the spot. Because. Holy shit. I’d trade you any day.

Billy was more than happy to follow this fucking hick around America, watch him ride his pretty horse before fucking him against the stable wall.

Or whatever. Do they have stables? Billy doesn’t know how a traveling rodeo works.

But like, they’ve gotta have stables, right?

“Nah, you’d get sick of him. He stinks.”

“Have you ever smelled horse shit? Because that’s the fragrance I wake up to every morning.”

And Max was laughing, and Steve was laughing, and Billy was trying to keep his hands as casually as possible in front of his slight chub.

“Will I get the privilege of seeing you two again?” And what a way to word it? The privilege. And then Steve was looking Billy up and down, and he was biting that perfect bottom lip and opening his mouth and “I could always give you my phone number. So we can. Meet up. Next time you’re here.”

“‘Course. You can give us the grand tour.”

And Steve was digging in those tight back pockets again, and shoving his phone into Billy’s hand, and he doesn’t have a passcode, but his home screen was a picture of him and his fucking horse which is, just about the sweetest thing Billy’s ever seen.

And Billy put himself in as Billy Hargrove , and then panicked because Steve doesn’t know his fucking last name. So he settled for Billy and then for good measure shoved San Diego after it because. Billy’s a common name, okay?

And Steve took his non-password protected fuckin’ horse girl phone, and Billy was giving him as charming a smile as he could muster with sweat on his upper lip and saying-

“You better text me, Pretty Boy. So I can save your number.” Billy shrugged, looking off to his left to try and seem. Nonchalant. “In case I wanna see you again.”

And Max was rolling her eyes, but she wasn’t stopping away. Wasn’t even whining at Billy, no doubt on her best behavior in front of hot cowboy Steve.

But Steve had a glint in his eye, and if Max wasn’t here Billy would be playing this all different, laying on the charm a lot thicker than he was.

But he can’t be a horny bastard in front of her. That’s just, like, gross.

So he settles for making a real show of licking his bottom lip, and maybe flexing his bare arms just a tiny bit.

“We should probably get goin’. Got a curfew for this one,” Billy jerked his head in Max’s direction. She huffed before she could stop herself. “See you around, Cowboy Steve.”

And Steve gave another one of his pretty ringing laughs.

“Come again soon, Billy and Max.” And again, Billy’s sure that if Steve were wearing a hat, he would’ve flicked the brim at them as he set off back into the rodeo, dodgin off the main thoroughfare.

“Wow. That was embarrassing for you.”

Billy whipped his head around to stare at Max, giving her the most disgusted look he could muster.

“The fuck you mean?”

“You were so obvious.”

“That’s the fucking point . We were flirting. It’s supposed to be obvious, you demon.” Billy shoved her once before stomping in the direction of the parking lot.

“Yeah but you were like, making these faces at him.”

“Shut the fuck up. I know what I was doing, okay? It was all very calculated . Let him know I’m down for it, and if he texts, then I’m good to go. If not, then I move on.”

And the thought of Steve not texting was kinda, disappointing. Because Billy really wanted him to text. He wanted to stay up late giggling at his phone and the dumb things Steve texts him and pretend they don’t make him flush like a fucking school girl.

He pointedly didn’t look at his notification when he reached the car, just shoved an old tape in and turned up Black Sabbath when Max wrinkled her nose at it.

They were both quiet on the drive back home. Something heavy unsaid between them.

And only as Billy was pulling into his spot in the driveway did Max suck in a big breath to actually put it out there.

“I won’t tell. About him. Not even Mom. Not even that I think he’s cool.”

“Thanks. Easier just to. Avoid at all costs.”

And if Billy were a better person, maybe he would hug her or something.

But they don’t do that. Instead he sighed and didn’t hip check her violently off the porch like his instincts were telling him. So really, he’s a fucking saint.

#yikes writes #rodeo au #show pony #steve harrington #billy harringrove #steve harringrove #thought i'd make a proper post with the story for ppl that wanted to read it here #i'm very proud of it!!#please read it!!

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