#like yeah Miguel doesn’t really give a shit dress how you want be who you want but Miles is taking this as allyship

[milimeters-morales]

Miguel in his slit dress and Miles takes this as the “OK” to finally wear his outfit with a subtle skirt built onto it. Miguel has yet to notice any difference

[intheorangebedroom]

Hey orange besties 🧡

Here's the one thing none of you asked for but I'm giving you anyway!! Listen, Halloween is my favourite holiday and I'd do just about anything rather than start working on my WIP because it terrifies me.

So here's the most indulgent headcanon EVER, please feel free to scroll past this nonsense of a post, but not before I could wish you all a very spooky Halloween 🧡

Yes, I have no shame.

Explicit HC below the cut 🔞

This Halloween, you've convinced Frankie to host a party at your place. He was really the first surprise, you're not exactly the party type, yet here you are.

You’ve been on Pinterest looking up aesthetics and recipes since August, basically, you've spent an inordinate amount of money on fancy decorations, stocked up enough candy to give all the kids in the tristate area a stomach ache of biblical proportions, and it's finally happening, today is the day, this is your version of the American dream.

But what will you and your friends dress up as???

Rosie

For years, the two of you have had an ongoing argument about what constitutes a proper Halloween costume. To you, it’s either crafty and creative, or spooky if not disgusting. To her… Let’s say she’s explored all the slutty options out there.

This year, the debate resumes as early as September. Only this time, you outsmart her, challenging her to look sexy despite a plain horror get up.

Never one to retreat, always one to excel, Rosie chooses to dress up as Candyman. With the fur and the hook and the scarf, down to the fake bees painted on the left side of her face. And yes, she still is smouldering hot as all hell.

Will

Will? Dressing up? Fucking hell, why are you doing this to him? He��s a grown ass man. He was a warrior, for fuck’s sake. He’s not gonna go around and spend money on a fucking costume!

But. He’ll be damned if he’s the only one who doesn’t play along. He can probably whip up something with whatever he’s got in his closet, anyway. Like…. Motorcycle gang leader, for example.

(at this point, orange besties, I’m cackling in French).

Yovanna

Yovanna. Understood. The assignment. Obviously because she’s hands up the smartest one of all the TF bunch.

She dresses up as the Corpse Bride. Your jaw drops to the floor when you open the door. She's stealing the show and it is fine. You’ve no idea how she can look this at ease with all that heavy makeup covering her skin, but she looks like she's having a hell of a good time, oh and also SHE'S FUCKING STUNNING.

Pope

Pope could have made an effort and go as Victor, right? He should have. Did he, though? No. No he didn't.

Pope dresses up as Miguel O'Hara from Across The Spider-Verse, so he can slither into this tight af costume and strut his butt like a Spidey slut.

Tom

Kidding. Tom's not invited. But if he were...

Benny

Sweet, sweet Benny, our sunshine boy, our precious blond gem of a baby man…

Benny considered not coming at all. Not that he's not over you yet, come on, let's be serious, it's been over two years. He's totally over you. He’s slept with at least a dozen different women since you broke up and his friendship with Frankie is on the mend, so yeah, over you and beyond, thank you very much. Ok, he'll go, then. Besides... he wants to see you. Just to make sure he’s really over you. What could possibly go wrong?

A horror classic connoisseur, his first idea is to dress up as something overly sublte. Say… Tom Conway in the 1942 Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, for instance. Only because it would be obscure enough for people to ask him about it, which would give him a good opportunity to show off his impressive... cinematic knowledge. Not at all because you and the director share the same last name. Of course not. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’d probably be the only one in the room able to identify the costume. Argh fuck, he can’t go as Tom Conway in the 1942 Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, can he? 

Fine. He’ll play it safe. Mainstream. Mike Meyers. But Mike Meyers with a twist: the kid version. 

What he does not anticipate, is how many times he gets asked if he’s that stupid Pennyclown from It. Doesn’t anyone have any fucking classic culture?? It’s winding him up real bad and he’s starting to think he’ll leave early, until you walk up to him with a shy smile and a tall glass of beer. 

“You make a real good baby Meyers, Benjamin,” you whisper, and it's the first words you've spoken to him all night. Of course you knew, of course you’re the only one who guessed, and he wants to say something smart but he can’t, he’s riveted to the floor, melting under your soft gaze. You lift your arm, as if reaching for him and for a split second, he thinks you’re gonna run your fingers through his hair like you used to, and his heart does this lurching thing, like it simultaneously shrinks and explodes in his chest, and fuck him. He’s not over you yet.

(maybe I’m not over him either 👀)

Meanwhile… Meanwhile, Frankie's watching the whole scene from the kitchen. Ticking jaw, sucking on his teeth, vein popping in his neck. 

But what did Frankie dress up as, you ask. If you're still reading this, that is.

Frankie

Well, Frankie’s not exactly big on Halloween. For one, he grew up in a household full of ghosts. The candy sure was a perk, as a kid, but he’s always enjoyed savoury food more than sweets. Later, Izzy would let him tag along to the parties she went to (not that her mother left her much choice, anyway), and those were fun, admitedly. There was always alcohol, but most importantly, ✨girls✨ Girls who would never fail to find Izzy’s baby brother oh so cute with his soft curls and his golden skin and his lovely dimples and he’d spend the entire evening passing from one set of arms to another set of hands, which suited him juuuuust fine.

However, the man now has an actual body count, so he’s not too keen on the notion of the dead coming back to haunt the living for one night…

But thewhole thing makes you so damn happy. In the end, it doesn’t matter if he has to fend off an entire army of undead.

Unlike Pope, whatever your choice of outfit may be, he’ll get behind you. You wanna be Lydia Deetz? He’ll be your Beetlejuice. He’ll be the Gomez to your Morticia, the John Bartlett to your Patricia Bradley. 

This year, you announce most enthusiastically, you want to be Frankenstein’s Bride. 

Alright, baby!

And let's just say this: he makes it very, very difficult for you to be a good host to your guests. How on god’s wretched earth can he be this incredibly sexy as Frankenstein's creature??

Not only is he good with the kids, patient and gentle and cracking dad jokes with each group of little monsters and Elsas and cowboys eagerly standing on your doorstep, but that jacket… That damn jacket he got himself, three sizes too small, fuck, that poor jacket is working hard ALL NIGHT trying to contain his breadth, the seams just as strained around his shoulders as your poor clenching cu– 

Oh and you’ve no idea where he found that headband with the bolts on each side, but you don’t really care because he’s slicked black his hair and it's curling thick and luscious on his nape and you can’t wait for every one to get the hell out of your place. 

You’re gonna go down on him the minute the last guest leaves your house, take him down your throat and show him just how grateful to him you are for playing along so well. Watch that handsome, pretty, pretty face, that the green makeup and fake scars can't even spoil, go slack when you suck on his balls and swallow his spend. 

And you almost get to do it. If it wasn’t for that tiny little misstep. The sultry teasing words you pour into his neck, halfway through the party. When you tell him that what you truly wanted to dress up as was Margarita at the Midnight Ball. And Francisco’s eyes grow dangerously dark and wide and wild, pupils shot open with lust, because he knows what this means. And what this means is stark naked. 

And sure enough, he has barely closed the door behind the last guest that Frankie turns around and orders you to "Take off those fucking clothes. Now."

His tone brooks exactly zero argument. You comply at the speed of light before he shoves you onto the couch and kneels on the floor between your spread thighs, and it's very obvious, very fast, that you are his Halloween candy.

He keeps your ass balanced on the edge of the sofa and your back pressed into the soft cushions, thick fingers digging into the dips of your hips to hold you still with a welcome, bruising hold. 

His mouth feels like lava, liquid and hot as he licks into you like a starved man, broad sloppy stripes through your dripping folds, tongue dipping to feast on your slick like his sole purpose down there is to drink you dry. 

And when he wants more, because it’s never enough, he fastens his plush lips around your pulsating clit and plays it with the curled up tip of his tongue, two fingers hooked inside your cunt and pulling on that fucking spot with the same deftness with which he used to pull the trigger, and you give him more, give him everything he wants, you leak straight into his mouth, you’ve lost track of time somewhere after your third orgasm. 

There’s green makeup smeared all over your inner thighs, rivulets of black tears streaking your once ghostly pale cheeks. Sweat’s pooling in the small of your back and damp locks of hair are glued to your temples and forehead. 

You're a writhing mess, nearly slipping out of consciousness when he grabs your waist and flips you around, rough and urgent. 

With that easy strength that makes you light-headed, he pulls you downward, kneeling you down between his folded legs, your back flush to his chest, you’re moulded into him, and by the time you register the change in position, he’s already lining himself up. 

It’s no longer than a split second before he all but impales you on his length. It’s too sudden and the stretch downright painful, and you cry a strangled cry of his name but it's soundless, there’s no more air in your lungs, he’s fucked all the oxygen out of there. 

“How are you so fucking tight,” he says, his voice sounds strained, and he starts fucking up into you, absolute, merciless, the pace is punishing and you’ve gone blind with the stretch. 

It’s too fast, too deep, too fucking thick. Your spine goes stiff as a metal rod as you try to get away from it but you can’t, one hand is clutching your throat and his other arm’s banded around your waist. You’re helpless, nails digging into his flesh, crushed against his sweaty torso and he keeps sliding your rigid body down onto his impossibly thick cock at this impossibly fast pace, hips hammering your ass, lewd and loud, slap slap slap. 

And he knows, he feels you trying to recoil. The flat of his tongue licks up the column of your throat and it’s a sharp bite on your earlobe, and a low grunt in your ear, “I'm not gonna last long,” and you relent, you slump down into his hold and let him give you what he needs you to take. 

“Good girl”, he pants, and what do you know? You feel another one coming. 

Oh but this one’s deep and violent, it’s building tense and heavy into your core like a burning fist gripping your insides right behind your navel, and if it wasn’t for his own grunts, you’d hear the pathetic mewl you let out when it explodes in your breasts. 

The frantic clench and clutch of your cunt around his length is more than enough to tip him over. He rams his pulsating cock into you one last time before he starts to grind, so forceful his hipbones are biting into your ass, pushing further inside you to bury his come as far up your body as possible, up to your fucking cervix, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his rumbling growl. 

When he stills, finally, he doesn’t unwrap his arms. Doesn’t loosen his embrace. Instead, he draws your body with his when he slouches backward, his broad shoulders hitting the coffee table.

Limp, spent, blissfully used, you lay on top of him, his length sheathed inside your warmth, your chest heaving along with his chest. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. 

He nuzzles the crown of your hair, gentle again. 

“Happy Halloween, baby.”

****

HAPPY HALLOWEEN ORANGE BESTIES!!! HAVE FUN WITH THE DEAD AND STAY SAFE 🎃💀🧡

[ozimagines]

Do you have any head cannons for if Miguel had been paroled at the end of season 5? Thank you

Ooooooh this is interesting. Like, everyone knew he wouldn’t get paroled, but what if Ruiz took pity on him. Saw a little of himself in this lost barrio boy.

Miguel Alvarez Gets Paroled (S5)…

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re angry…”

He’s seething. His parole might be in danger. Maritza might be in danger.

(Poor boy doesn’t know about Ronaldo yet💔)

When he gets in front of the parole board, he’s jittery

He’s thought about every question ahead of time and gives his answers

He can see on their face that they don’t believe it

“What the fuck makes you think you should go free, you little prick?”

He feels it… the anger. The red in his eyes that wanted to hurt Ruiz. That tingle in his hands before he hit someone. 🔥

He took a deep breath.

“I really believe I’m rehabil…”

He can’t even make himself say the words😢

He was going to spend the rest of his life in Oz

So he opted for the truth

“I don’t know if I’m rehabilitated. I know I want to be different. I know I want a life. I know I don’t want to hurt people anymore. Feel their blood on my hands. Their voices in my head forever. I don’t know if rehabilitation is possible… but I hope it is. I hope it is because it’s my last shot. My last shot at having something to hold onto.”

“…and if you were free?” -Ruiz ⁉️

“I’d hug my mother, because I know she tried. I’d tell my sisters I love them and I’m sorry I went away where I couldn’t protect them. I’d get a job and complain about it but I’d love every minute of it. I’d join community theatre. O’Reily’s mom was really nice and I think I found something I care about. I’d try. I really would.”

The board is silent for a moment. Ruiz beckons the lady next to him to lean in to a whisper.

“Thank you, Mr. Alvarez. We’ll get back to you.”

He leaves, not feeling good about his chances. He tears off the suit with an anger, waiting in Sister Pete’s office.

“I’m gonna stay here, Sister. Those motherfuckers ain’t ever gonna let me free.”

A woman in a suit entered, reading something off a form. He didn’t listen to any of the words except the last three:

“They voted yes.”

His heart stopped in his chest.

Was he going free❓❓❓❓❓

He released a long breath that he had been holding onto since he got to Oz. He’d be free. Maybe not fully safe, Chico wasn’t gonna let him get away that easy, but he was free.

He signed all the forms, collected all of his belongings, and said goodbye to the one prisoner he’d miss.

Rebadow congratulated him, giving him a word of warning before he left:

“Hold onto life, Miguel. Hold on with both hands.”🙌

He mulled over those words, unsure of what they meant completely.

He knocks on Mukada’s door, whose sad eyes trail up towards him. Even he wasn’t sure if Miguel was safe to put on the streets.

They’re silent for a moment, Miguel dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, a leather jacket over it. No cuffs in sight.

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve caused.” -Miguel says after a moment.

Mukada thinks for a moment.

“Then don’t cause shit, Miguel.”

Those were the last words they spoke to each other for a month.

The sun is bright, and Miguel realizes how much he’s missed being outside.

His sister, Jimena, drives him.

He stares out the window the entire way, watching the blank fields turn to houses turn to buildings.

She asks if he had any friends to invite to his parole party

“No” -he says a little too quickly.

The party is small. His mom and sisters and cousins who cared to show up.

Honestly, after being in solitary for years, all the people were a little much for him

He goes for a walk afterwards, walking through his old neighborhood. Nothing changed and everything did at the same time.

He visits Maritza, who refuses to let him inside… when he sees Ronaldo’s hat on the chair.

There it is again… the anger. The seeing red. He wanted to drag them both across the floor.

But he didn’t. ❤️

“Yeah… this… this is done. You too, Ronaldo.”

He throws himself a pity party for the night, downing Michelada after Michelada. 🍺🌶️

He made good on his word and joined e community theatre the next day🎭

It was… strange.

He’d been used to inmates who hated acting and were playing it like a joke… and now everyone was so serious.

He starts off in lighting and sound, teaching him all the tech spots one by one

He makes friends, real friends, who invite him out after shows.

They tell crazy stories, and though he knows his stories could beat them all, he stays silent and just listens, laughing along with everyone.

He gets a job as a mechanic at first. He hated it but went every day and stayed clean.

A few weeks later, after jawing with one of his clients, he offers Miguel a job at a video game studio.

He stays quiet and takes notes at meetings, trying to show everyone he belongs there

He wears a suit to work, getting teased (friendly) as everyone else was wearing whatever they please

But he likes his suit, so he still wears it🕴️

As he’s walking one day, he meets Ronaldo on the street, who looked instantly afraid of him.

Miguel rolls his eyes and tells him that Miguel died in solitary confinement

Ronaldo, not reading the situation, offers Miguel a bump of his coke and says he has a job that’ll get Miguel back into El Norte

He thinks about it for a second, but declines both

Ronaldo calls him a pussy and even though he’s seeing red again, he walks away.

He gets a therapist and stays on his meds this time💊

He binges shows he missed and judges them on their technical prowess

He stays away from trouble, and even when others try to start some, he stays out of it.

Chico tries shit from Oz, sending people to mess with Miguel.

Miguel keeps his head down and does what he does best… survive.

After a while Oz starts to fade away into Fourth of July BBQs and oily popcorn fingers at the movies.

He hangs out with his sisters’ kids. They think he’s the best uncle.

Miguel doesn’t know how to talk to kids but they’re just drawn to him. Feel protected by him.

He hangs up every card they make him.🎨

He stays in that community theatre, working his way up to stage manager.

It’s years later but he’s finally in charge again.

He plays basketball and soccer and even beer pong if you catch him in the right mood

He even buys himself a sketchbook and starts drawing (very much keeps it to himself)

Miguel starts to understand Rebadow’s words.

He reaches out to Mukada when he’s feeling no feisty or violent. After seeing Mukada at one of his plays unannounced, the two had become closer. He realized Miguel was serious about getting his life together.

They chat at a coffee shop the next day.

Miguel is… surprisingly calm for losing his girlfriend and being released into nothing.

“Y’think… maybe… God’s listening to me again, Father?”

“He never stopped, Miguel.”

Years later, years and years, as Miguel is sitting on the couch with his family, and his kids are playing on the floor, his significant other just watching, happily… Miguel realizes he did exactly what Rebadow told him.

Bonus: his kids were baptized by Mukada. He wouldn’t have it done by anyone else.

[aestheticsuwu]

It is not the same without you around

Eli ‘Hawk’ Moskowitz x Demetri Alexopoulos

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby is a good friend. One of the best of friends Demetri has, But as much he loves the dude, he does not want to look for a missing necklace . No matter how much it cost to Robby’s boyfriend.

Pretty hefty. He seen the receipt.

Since Robby was throwing such a fit. They were all forced to look for it like it was a live or die situation .Demetri didn’t understand , the guy could get away with anything , The tall dude would just forgive him.

And if Robby dearly loved that necklace he should’ve kept it safe ,like who knows, maybe around his neck ,or in a jewelry box.

But here he was, in a Sunday, the sun beaming directly at him trying to melt him into a Demetri-shaped puddle. He could feel his armpits begin to sweat. Thank God for deodorant .

“Let’s split up in groups of twos.” Robby suggests . After taking a break in their search , Robby decided it was better for them to espérate into teams.Them being him, Sam , Miguel, Tory and… Eli.

Demetri was fine as long they don’t pair him up with… him.

Maybe he was running on different time because he blinks and suddenly everyone is paired up leaving him with Eli. What did he just say.

“How about you guys look here. Sam and Miguel look near the entrance and Tory and I will search near the abounded train tracks.”

“Why would it be there ?” Eli ask , the question everyone was thinking.

“T-Thats—I really hope your good at looking for my necklace like your questioning.” Robby sneer and glares at Eli. It wasn’t as scary as it was intented with his tinted cheeks.

His mind didn’t want to picture Robby and Rickenberger [redacted]. Yeah, it was too early for this shit.

The pairs start to leave and Demetri pulls Robby and Sam roughly aside ignoring Sam’s yelp.

“Let’s switch . “ He demands.

“Demetri —“ He cuts Sam off, He had a guess what she would say. It was no time to be persuaded by those baby blues . He opted to glare at both Robby and Sam.

“Don’t Demetri me , Samantha.” Lowering his tone he pleads, ” I would rather have Tory give me a wedgie than be alone with him.” He didn’t want run the risk of the blonde hearing him and take his word for it.

He tried to copy Robby’s puppy look that he witness work in his favor a million times, it was a work in progress, Sam looks almost swayed but Robby interrupts and elbows Sam’. He will not be helping him find shit.

“ Focus. This is important. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have made you go spend time with him. I only have today to find it , Dee would know I lost it. Please Demetri” Robby pleads.

Why couldn’t he be a bad friend and ditch them. Go home and eat a pint of ice cream all to himself while listening to the Wallows blasting his eardrums until it bled .

Scoffing at Robby’s ‘Puppy look’. He sighs deeply and looks up at the sky with his hand on his hips.How did he do that. He has to take notes.

“Fine.” Demetri stops them again.” As soon as one of you find it , you come and rescue me, Got it?”

“Got it!” Sam and Robby say in unison and give him a good luck smile. Acting like they were twins, they were even wearing the same color , did Mr.LaRusso dressed them?. He really wanted to push them down a hill.

He feels it. The awkwardness in the air. Even if everybody tried to ignore it. Maybe that’s why nobody wanted to pair up with the two of them. Because it’s there. Floating in the air.

Who knew how awkward it is to break up with your best friend / boyfriend. He did now.

Demetri doesn’t quite remember for what reason they broke up , what he does know ,is that he is not going to spend his Sunday looking for a dumb expensive necklace with his ex. Well… not all day .

“I can’t believe I’m stuck looking for a stupid necklace .” Eli huffed , kneeled over the grass . Demetri rolled his eyes . Always the complainer.

And people thought it was him.

He is about to get up from his squating position. His thighs were cramping already,He really has to do leg day, But freezes when he hears Eli mumble.

He is not sure what he exactly said. But it sounded in between , Especially with you or this stupid shoe.

“Look for the necklace because I don’t want to look at your stupid face, any longer.” Demetri went with the first one. Not seeing Eli trip on air .

“ Stupid face? Stupid face!” Eli laughed dryly ,” If I recall you were all over this stupid face.” He motions his face with both of his hands.

“Oh please , don’t get yourself confused , I remember you would climbed on to me.” Eli must be dumb to think he was winning because Demetri was ready to prove him wrong.

“Because you were so whiny for my attention!” Eli yells looking way too smug.

“Don’t make me laugh , Eli.” Demetri scoffs , moving from his spot not wanting to be any closer to this jerk any longer.

“Don’t worry I will just tell your terrible unfunny jokes!” Eli snarks, giving him the most fake ass smile .

“You said they were funny!” Demetri screams, a tiny bit hysterical .

“I lied!” Eli laugh mocked him.He was looking to smug for his own good. Demetri had to dig deeper.

“You suck at singing!, makes me wonder if your tone deaf.” Demetri watched Eli narrow his eyes in disbelief.

“ Why should I listen to you, you have bad music taste ? You listen to wallows !” Eli took a large step forward ,jabbing his finger at Demetri chest. Which , Ow , that hurts.

“Don’t you dare say nothing bad about them!” Demetri warned . Say anything about him but not them. He stabbed Eli chest with his bony finger . He gets a satisfaction seeing Eli wince.

“They suck ass , oh wait ? You do too.” That stupid malicious smirk came up making Demetri felt his marbles let loose but he tried to not show it.But Eli continued, “Guess you have something in common”

And well he did warn him to keep his mouth shut. And for a fleeting moment he felt bad for Mr.LaRusso perfectly cut grass, but it disappears when the chunk of grass and dirt is thrown at Eli.

Eli spits out the dirt that managed to get inside his mouth . Eyes shot wide like he couldn’t believe that Demetri did that, and when the shock warned off he reaches down for a nearby plant ,that Demetri dodges but is not lucky with the second time.

A voice in his head that sounded like Mr.L yelled at him stop .

So he did. Demetri opted to tackle the guy to the ground. Poor plants didn’t deserve it, at least the remaining ones . He will crane kick his ass if he needs too.

Eli is quick to roll him over trying to pin his arms down but Demetri pushes him to his left and plants his knees firmly . Somehow Eli swings his legs over, caging him in and flips him in his back.

When Demetri looks to his side , he sees his arm beside his head. He watches their chest heave as they ran out breath from rolling around the grass . One second their glaring and seconds away from throwing punches to laughing their ass off randomly.

Eli drops down next to him , still laughing but reaches for his hand . Just like that ,the anger he had was gone, he turn and was surprised that Eli was looking at him already.

“I’m sorry about saying shit about the Wallows , they don’t suck ass.”

“I lied about your singing , you sing beautiful .”

“No I don’t.” Eli shook his ahead in amusement.

“No you don’t. “ Demetri laughs “I’m sorry for throwing chunk of grass.”

“It was nostalgic , haven’t had grass and dirt in years.” Eli acted like he felt melancholy and broke into a smile when he swatted his arm.

“Why did we break up?”Eli asked seriously.

“Because we are stupid . I don’t even remember why !” Demetri sighs , he squeezes Eli’s hand .

“Take me back. I miss you.” Eli confesses making Demetri the happiest guy today.

“I missed you too , I missed you sending me a thousands of Tik Tok videos every day .”

That’s all Eli needed to jump on Demetri and kiss him . The kiss tasted like dirt but Demetri will ignore that for now since they couldn’t exactly brush their teeth or whip out a gum in the middle of kissing.

“Bet you missed kissing this stupid face .” Eli grins , lips shiny and pink driving Demetri nuts . He rolled them over , wincing a tiny rock dug into his knee, he regrets wearing shorts.

“If you don’t shut up and kiss me , we will break up again .” Demetri blank face breaks when Eli twist his nipple in retaliation . He pinches Eli back making him laugh.

“We can’t have that now , can we ?” Eli tugs him down and plants a big ole kiss and Demetri is just swell . Makeup make outs are the best . Mind slushy like a cloud , head empty , and hands on Eli.

For a second he pulls his hand away from Eli’s face to pull the pebble digging in his skin and goes back to sticking his tongue down his boyfriend throat.

~~~~~————/-

“Dude!” Tory yells and covers Sam’s eyes and uses Miguel body to shield them from seeing skin or whatever was going on. Miguel scrunched his face , but not that scandalized he seen them naked before.

“What the hell guys?”Robby surprisingly screams louder than Tory , he looks around the place probably avoiding to see them until they throw back on their clothes. Even if it was just the shirts that were discarded.

“Sorry to scar you eyes ” Eli bit his lip to stop himself from cracking up. He tried to get a high five from Miguel but Miguels pulls away at the last second not knowing where and what that hand touch. Eli shoves his hand into his pockets.

“I’m talking about the dojo. You guys are fixing this !” Robby mouth tugged down into an angry frown and brows furrowed . Tory whistled seeing how they tore the place up. Sam was looking equally piss matching Robby expression and crossed arms . He butts in Robby hysterical rant before Sam has the chance to explode .

“Ok, Ok . You found it?” Demetri dust off any dirt or grass of his shirt with his hand.

“Found what?”Robby looks at him funny , ‘giving him a what the hell are you talking about’ his arms falling to his sides .

“The necklace?” Demetri is now confused. The whole reason they were here.

“What neckla— Oh! , No we haven’t.” Like a light blub appears above Robby .Which was funny, minutes ago he was dying of nerves and now he couldn’t remember .

The sun lets its presence known by hitting Robby’s green lying eyes, making the boy shift nervously .The sudden movements make Demetri catch something shiny .

“You little deceiving liar!” Demetri can’t believe it , he was tricked. If it was anyone else he would laugh but Robby played him.

“Excuse me.” Robby shifted his weight one foot to the other.

Robby has the audacity to act innocent.

“You have the necklace. You never lost it.” He points an accusatory finger in his direction. Demetri runs up and pulls the necklace , gently he was not wasting his allowance buying him a new one, Robby just smiled sheepishly trying to look cute but it won’t work on him.

“Made us waste our day, looking for something that wasn’t lost with the sun trying to kill us. And for what.!” Demetri yells frustrated , He didn’t even bother asking the rest if they knew all along too.

“To be fair , the plan work.” Robby shrugged calmly with a smile on his face, as if that was justifiable .

“What plan?” Eli squawks , wiping away the dirt and sweat off his face, feeling a bit annoyed now. Sure he got Demetri back but he didn’t understand Robby’s big scheme.

“To get you guys together.” Robby points at them . He shares a look with Miguel, Tory and Sam and then starts explaining, “We couldn’t deal with you talking our ear off about Eli being the dumb beautiful idiot .And Tory and Miguel was tired of seeing Eli act all miserable , weepy and crying himself to sleep.”

“I didn’t cry myself to sleep.” Eli is quick to correct Robby.

“Ehh”Miguel betrayed Eli , but it was the truth. “ I hate seeing you sad , so we made this plan , we all sacrificed our day and cancelled our plans to get your silly asses back together. It was a great plan if I say so.” Miguel proudly said .

Eli pulled Miguel into a hug. And then the rest, which left them confused but touched that Eli was showing his grattitude.

Demetri is not caving in that easily . Robby put his palms together and apologized .

“It’s going to take more than that, Keene.”

“Okay.” Robby added a pout and the sad puppy eyes. Demetri was not falling for this one . Robby stopped for a second to wave his hand to get the others attention. They stood in formation and started to give him their own version of ‘puppy eyes ‘ , Demetri really needed new set of friends.

“Fine, Fine . Just stop doing that it’s creeping me out !”

“Group hug.” Sam shouts.

Demetri got squashed in next to Eli and Miguel, Almost kissed Robby and his foot got stepped on by Tory and knocked his chin with Sam with the sudden force . They really shouldn’t have rushed in.

Somebody phone chimes . It’s Robby , Because he is peeling away from the hug and announces he has to leave since his boyfriend is taking him to the ‘Theater‘.

“Wait .”Miguel stops Robby from taking one more step , looking confuse “I thought we all cancelled our plans for today.”

“Yeah , but when we went to Sam’s car , I texted Dee to come pick me up when you were betting how long it would to get their shit together . “ Robby unashamedly explained , The others collectively made noises of ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahhh’ .

“Are you really ditching us , why don’t you invite us ?”Tory shuffled forward .

“Tickets are sold out.” Robby smiles apologetically at her.

“Unless you’re not going to the movies.”Miguel ask suspiciously getting on Robby nerves .

“I am going to the movies.” Robby’s jaw ticks . anyone could see that Robby didn’t want his friends to accompany him but they would also see Robby was lying . And well he made them all cancel his plans in good cause .

Robby calls it victory when they supposedly let him leave , the second he turned his back on them the menace of Eli yells out .

“Then we all are going. Cmon guys !”

No , guys , there’s no more , it’s a date for two not for 7 , we can hang out another—“ Robby gives up , he pursued his lip , hands on his hips watching them run outside . He sighs in defeat.

“Thanks for all this. I really appreciated .” Demetri pats his shoulder .

“No problem.” Robby says irritated, Demetri looks away to hide his smug smile. “ Shouldn’t you be celebrating right now like you were a couple of minutes ago with Eli.” Robby tries one last attempt to get rid of them but it’s no use .

“Another time . We got a movie to watch.” Demetri cackles seeing Robby looking pissed that his plans were being ruined .

“Demetri !”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Robby looks pretty pissed that we are crashing his date.” Eli snickers , rasing his chin towards Robby. Demetri shoves a couple of popcorn into his mouth and he watches Robby pout angrily with his arms crossed.

“Hawk, lend me a few bucks I’m a bit short.” Miguel screams from the popcorn stand making Tory wince . Sam smiled apologetically towards the random strangers who turned by the yelling.

“Dem hold my cup .”

Demetri gave him a ‘really?‘ look , his hands were full from the large bucket , red vines and his own cup. Which reminded him how much of a brat Eli is , not one ounce of a gentleman .

“Robby, Hold my cup.” Eli shoves it in Robby’s hand who left right eye was twitching . Eli blows out a whistle taking a peep in his wallet, shamelessly turns to Robby’s boyfriend to borrow money to let Miguel borrow .

Robby looks seconds away from disowning them when Rickenberger lends him a 20 . That guy was clearly trying to win some points with them because he is clearly knows he is not getting that back.

Miguel won’t pay Eli , And Eli won’t ask for the money since he also owes Miguel.

Hawk sprints to Miguel and back to him , Miguel shouts ‘thank you’ and Eli ‘No problem man’ ,they might get kicked out.

Robby tugs his boyfriend and tells the woman ,giving them a disapproving look , that he didn’t know them. She might’ve been more bothered by the hand on Robbys ass and Eli constantly telling random people that he got back with his hot babe.

Another time , Demetri would’ve tried to help and make those two idiots to shut up and be in constant worry of being kicked out and all. But he just got his boyfriend back, no more single Demetri , so when Eli screeches when he finds out Robby threw his cup away, Demetri just lets it happen . He is happy goddammit . Nothing can ruin this day , he is about to watch a movie that he will not pay attention to since he will be making out with his boyfriend . And eating all these snacks

They’re real close to getting banned—Wait—. Never mind , they’re banned . There goes his plans .

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ 𝜗𝜚⠀⠀ ֺ𓂂⠀⠀ cop!miguel 𝓍 teacher!reader (part 6)⠀⠀. ˚⠀⠀❀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❛⠀ previous⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next ⠀❜

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who settles on an italian restaurant for the date after confirming with you over text. it was a recommendation by his friend lyla.

a hug smile plastered on his face reading the “love it! can’t wait!” text from you. how pleased and excited are you about the location.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who asks lyla to babysit gabriella tonight. luckily, she doesn’t have anything on her schedule so that puts less stress on him. besides, she wants hang out with her adorable niece.

“hellooo, where’s… whoa. what the hell is going on here?” lyla stares at the messy room filled with tossed and crumbled clothes scattered across the floor. dress shirts, ties, pants.

“language.” miguel retaliated as he paces back and forth in his bedroom. standing in front of his floor length mirror, buttoning up a shirt dress shirt.

one brow quirks upward. “you look like a mess. actually, your whole room is a mess.”

“cállete.” he scowls, buttoning the last button with slightly shaky, sweaty hands.

glancing around, lyla takes note of the mess and miguel’s body language. “damn, i haven’t seen you this nervous since high school. you really like her a lot, don’t you?” she taunts with a smirk.

“lyla, por favor. i already have enough shit on my plate, i don’t need your teasing right now.”

“and i’m the one getting called out for language.” she scoffs with an eye roll, crossing her arms.

the stressed out man groans out of frustration then walks a way from the mirror, grumpily unbuttoning the white dress shirt after he found it unbearable.

“miguel, you need to chillax. it’s just a date.”

another scoff let his lips, accompanied with an eye roll. “it’s not just a date, lyla, it’s an official date between her and i. it has to go perfectly.”

the woman in heart-shaped glasses rolled her eyes once again. “okay, sure but you don’t need to stress out about it. it’s going be a great date with great food and other shenanigans. perfection is lame.”

“well to me, it’s not. i want her to have a good time.” he digs through his closet, searching for other shirts.

“she will, both of you will.” lyla walks towards him. she stops him by gripping his forearm and swat it away. “stop panicking over a shirt, just wear black.”

miguel stares dumbfounded at her. “black?”

“yes, dumbo.” she rolls her eyes. “trust me, women love men in black.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who follows lyla’s advice and picks out a black dress shirt that matches with his dress pants and black oxfords.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who sprays an overdose of cologne to ensure himself he smells good.

“ugh! don’t spray that much!” lyla coughs, waving her hands like fans to wave away the heavy smell.

“need to smell good.”

“yeah but not that much, damn.”

“lyla.” miguel said in a warning tone.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who is finally ready after a hour of choosing what to wear and overall panicking. the amount of cologne and gel applied said enough.

“no tv after 9:00 and—“

“bed before 9:30.” gabi and lyla said in unison.

“miguel, we know. stop worrying and go have fun.” lyla gives him an aggressive pat on the shoulder, which startled him a little.

he rolls his eyes then walks over towards the door, looking at his reflection through the tiny mirror. fixing and patting down creases on his clothes. gently touching his hair, making sure it’s gelled enough.

“hey—“ lyla approached him, gabriella by her side. “it’s gonna go great tonight, don’t worry.” she flashes a reassuring smile.

a sigh escapes his lips. “thanks, for the advice and helping out tonight.”

“of course, big man. anything for my niece.” she winks at gabriella, who giggles.

“have fun, papí! tell miss i said hi!” the little girl quickly goes in for a hug.

miguel crouched and embraces his daughter, a light peck on the forehead. “gracias, princesa and i will.”

“you two are gonna have lots of fun.” she winks at her father, catching him off guard with that comment. she laughs at his confused expression.

“uh huh, té amo.” he smiles before planting another kiss on her forehead then lets her go.

“and you have to tell me everything when you come back.” she demands.

one brow quirks upward in surprise at the sudden authoritative tone. “tomorrow because you’ll be asleep by the time i come home.”

“still! tell me everything!” she smiles brightly.

after saying final goodbye to gabi and lyla, miguel walks out the door with a racing heart.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who doesn’t hear their mischievous conversation after he left.

“how much you bet they’re gonna kiss?” lyla asks with a smirk, gently nudging her little shoulder.

“oh 100%. she’s gonna be my new mom, i know it.” gabi smiles proudly.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who anxiously waits for you outside your apartment door. sweaty palms nervously gripping on the small bouquet of pink tulips. in a previous conversation, you mentioned they’re your favorite flowers.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel whose mouth hangs open and eyes widen in pure astonishment when the door opens, revealing the goddess behind it.

he drinks in your appearance. an ivory pink dress that captures the curves of your body like a glove. makeup more glamorous yet neutral, matching the beautiful pink of your dress. hair done beautifully, it’s evident you took much time with it. subtle gold jewelry such as a necklace and bracelet on your right wrist, complimenting the ivory pink.

a precious pearl.

you always manage to take his breath away effortlessly. your beauty, your personality, your energy. all of your is just so breathtaking.

miguel feels blessed to stand in your presence. savoring your presence. his heart beats fast like drum as he continues admiring you. your beauty could kill him and he’ll die happily.

“you… you look beautiful.”

heat rose up to your cheeks at the compliment. “thank you.” you chuckle bashfully.

miguel is so in awe of you that he forgot about the bouquet that’s on verge of slipping through his fingers. “oh… um.” he awkwardly clears his throat, internally embarrassed at himself for being a blind fool. “i brought you these.” he raises the bouquet to you. cheeks burning and heart racing.

your heart flutters at the kind gesture. a smile graces your lips. tulips, he remembers. “thank you, miguel.” you gently take the bouquet from his grasp and bring it up to your nose, a quick sniff at the pretty petals.

once you place them in a vase and locked your door, miguel guides you to his car with his arm linked with yours like the gentleman he is.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who opens the front doors of the restaurant as you arrived. one hand lightly placed on your lower back as the waitress guides you both to your reserved table, which was in the outside area.

a small surprise gasp falls from your lips as you entered the outdoor garden. the walls decorated in vibrant vines. fairy lights dangling from above. soft, romantic italian music in the background. everything about it so elegant yet magical, just perfect.

miguel couldn’t hold back his smile at your adorable reaction. the sparkle in your eyes. your lips adorned with lipstick slightly parted in astonishment. he’s also impressed with the interior (or exterior lol).

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who pulls out your chair for you once the waitress showed you your table. his heart fluttered at your sweet “thank you” and gorgeous smile he adores wholeheartedly.

“wow, there’s so much to choose from.” you softly chuckle as you read through the menu.

“yeah, it all sounds delicious.” he chuckles.

both of you decide to build your own pasta of your choice. paste, meatballs, and sauce of your choice. a waiter serves you water and a tiny basket of garlic bread. you thank him as he takes both your orders then walks away, leaving you and miguel to talk.

“gabi wanted me to tell you she says hi.” he watched the way your eyes light up, sparkling.

“awww, she’s so sweet.” you take a sip of water. “how has she been?” you ask, setting down the glass.

“great. lyla, the woman who used to pick her up from school, is watching her tonight, they’re probably having their own party right now.”

“oh, fun! i bet they are.” you softly smile.

you remember lyla, seeing her when picking up gabriella everyday before miguel started to take over. that woman has a sense of humor, always making you laugh with her jokes and remarks, especially towards miguel. he mentioned she’s a closed friend from high school, considers her a sister to him, hence why gabriella calls her tia.

after about 15 minutes, the waiter returns with your food. it looks absolutely delicious. you and miguel continue talking while enjoying your meal. a few laughs here and there as you talk about childhood memories. you couldn’t contain your laughter as miguel talks about a time when his younger brother gabriel accidentally knocked him over into a lake after a failed bike trick attempt. apparently, gabriel was riding the bike down a steep hill.

“how fast was he going?” you laugh.

“i don’t know but really fast that i didn’t have time to move, un putaso.” that made you laugh, making him smile. the most beautiful sound.

“pobrecito.” you flash him a sad smile, causing his heart to flutter. “how did your mom reacted?”

“she yelled at us and grounded us for a week. no tv, no video games, no dessert.”

“oh that’s sad.” you chuckle with a pout.

miguel shrugs with a chuckle. “that’s what happens when you do things you’re not supposed to do.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who almost spits out his drink when you share your embarrassing childhood memory. saying you got hit in the face with a basketball in front of your crush.

“wh-what?” he coughs, eyes wide.

you smile, laughing. “yep, i guess i didn’t notice the ball so when i turned. boom!” you gently slap your forehead in a dramatic way, mimicking the accident. “right in the face. i got a nosebleed from that.”

now he’s the one to pout, feeling guilty. “that’s terrible, i’m sorry.” miguel can’t imagine how badly it hurt, or you getting hurt in general. even if it happened years ago. it bothers him deeply, an unsettling feeling in his chest.

you shrug, waving off with a hand. “it’s no biggie. although, it did suck that my crush was there. i remember he came up to me the next day and said he felt bad for me. it was cute but jeez i felt really embarrassed.” you shyly laugh at the memory.

miguel laughs with you, understand the embarrassment in front of a crush. on the topic of crushes, he’s been admiring you throughout the conversation. savoring your every smile, laugh. you’re just so mesmerizing, everything about you.

he gets to see a different side of you. yes, he’s seen you outside of being a teacher during those cute hangouts with him and gabriella. but tonight, just you and him, it feels more intimate. seeing you dolled for this date, for him. having more personal conversations, sharing a laugh, opening up to each other little by little. miguel loves it.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who orders dessert after you finish your meals. you were craving tiramisu, he wasn’t against your choice. it sounds scrumptious.

the same waiter returns a singular plate of tiramisu. miguel seems delighted by the delicious dessert but noticed your slightly surprised face. he gathered you were expecting two plates for you both. he grows a bit concern, thinking it was awkward for you to share plate. but that is thrown out the window when he sees that gorgeous smile once again as you scoop up a tiny piece with your fork.

when you noticed it was one plate for you both, you were surprised but also shy. sharing a dessert with miguel made it more romantic. you never mind it at all, it was just shyness after all.

you two enjoy the dessert. babbling how scrumptious and addicting it is. you come to an agreement it’s one of the desserts you’ve tried.

“i’d like two boxes for this, thank you.” miguel tells the waiter, who nods with a smile then leaves.

“two boxes?” you ask with a confused smile.

“one half for gabi because she’ll get mad at me if i don’t bring her dessert. and the other half for you.”

this man continues making your heart flutter. “aw miguel, you don’t have to.”

“i want to, querida.” he softly smiles. “i can tell you’ve been craving it for a while when your eyes lit up at the menu.” a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “now you can some whenever you want.”

you match his smile. “gracias.”

the waiter returns with two small plastic containers and the bill. miguel thanks him before he leaves. you help him cut the tiramisu in half, him giving you the slightly bigger piece since he said he doesn’t want gabi to have too much sugar.

once the bill is paid and you gathered your belongings, you and miguel exit the restaurant and begin the journey back home.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who walks you back to your apartment. the tiny container of your piece of the tiramisu in his hand.

“this night was amazing, i loved it.” you said wholeheartedly, looking up at him with bashful eyes.

there goes his heart skipping a beat again. the effect you have on him is astounding.

“i’m glad you do, i loved it too.” he smiles.

now there’s silence which leads to anxiety. there’s something miguel has been desperately wanting to do since the beginning. something he’s been dreaming about, pretty much every night.

to kiss you.

miguel figures after a date would be appropriate but the hesitation and concern lingers. is it too soon? it’s only the first official date and it’s not common to kiss. would it make you uncomfortable? miguel doesn’t want to overstep your boundaries. in fact, it’s the last thing he wants. he needs to ask first.

“i uh…” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, struggling to hold your gaze. “before i leave, i-i want to… i-if you allow me to…”

“yes.” you spoke softly, making him look up in shock.

his eyes meets yours eyes and his breath gets caught in his throat. the soft lighting of the hallway lights makes your eyes sparkle like gems, like the gems from snow white when the dwarfs are mining for them. he detects the sincerity and want in them.

very slowly, miguel leans closer. or bend down due to the height difference between you two. even with your heels, he’s still almost two feet taller than you.

both your hearts pound with anxiety. lashes fluttering and chests heaving a bit as your faces get closer.

because of the height difference, you help him by standing on your tippy toes. it doesn’t make a big difference but an attempt to help him. you know his back will ache after this, hence why you helped. his hand holds you steady by the waist.

warmth radiates from your cheeks as your faces are cemeteries apart. lips almost touching. in a slow and gentle manner, your lips collide. fireworks explore in your hearts, butterflies in your tummies.

so soft and sweet, just like he dreamed of. miguel can taste the wine but doesn’t mind. he’s too lost in the softness of your lips. god he’s practically losing his mind. the moment he’s been waiting for so long.

it feels like a lifetime. just a simple, soft kiss for a moment that feels like an eternity.

after a moment, savoring the taste of each other, you slowly part ways and meet one’s gaze. miguel grew addicted to your taste, he fought demons to deepen the kiss, to taste more of you. perhaps another time.

you stare at each other with fluttering eyes. cheeks flushed and hearts pounding.

“does… another date sound great?” miguel whispers, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes.

“if it only ends like this, yes.” you smile bashfully.

his heart flutters at that.

unlocking and opening the door, you take the small container of your tiramisu and flash him one final smile. “goodnight, miguel.”

he stands there like a fool in love as he watches you close the door. catching your beautiful smile once again. miguel is over the moon. he feels like a teenage boy who had his first kiss. he smiles at himself as miguel walked back to his car. tiny imaginary hearts floating around his head.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who drives back home with a hug smile on his face. tonight went perfectly and he can’t wait for future dates with you. but most importantly can’t wait for this relationship to bloom.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @nightingale1011 @snails-doodles22 @planetxella @fatimam6 @resident-clown @tatatida @alegnafox @juneonhoth @scaryplanetdestroyer @eatalyy @kianaliv @reirain @futabaurl @zaunsin @nicolerock @oharaslove @slut4oscarissac23 @misakitenko @zayai @odessa-is-my-queen @barbixsatan @marshhbs @withlove-magss @edanamk @f1-hoff @yeanika @koko-1025 @itsissayup @theplaid-wearingmoose

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[narcosmx]

narcos mexico: love language head cannons

a/n: I NEEDED SOMETHING SOFT OKAY i’m soft at heart and this made me happy to write because being fluffy is my life okay kill me i apologize for bothering you all with ths 

amado: 

i chose recieving gifts for amado because that focuses a lot on being thoughtful and gestures and i just amado.... 

even though i have devolved into like writing him as a fucking DADDY who will constantly rearrange his guts, i still stand by the fact that he would be so fucking whipped for his girl and he’s not afraid to show it 

he’s never going to forget an important day, he’s never going to make you feel like you’re underappreciated 

just gestures are everything for him 

he hasn’t been home for a while, fuck it we’re going on a trip and he can fly you out in his little avioneta and he probably has everything fucking set up already 

i’m just imagining this little like sunset dinner on a hillside where he has dinner and wine waiting for you and why am i doing this to myself 

would be one to splurge on whatever the fuck you want and whatever the fuck you want to do

like you want to go try this new restaurant in butt fuck who knows where, amado is there for it

you’ve always wanted to go snorkling or some shit, amado’s taking you 

he remembers these things about you and like keeps them in his back pocket for later 

and if you remember something about him oof it’s over for him like i just remembering how he takes his coffee and looking at you with this little smile like “mira nomas mi mujer hermosha”

always showing up with flowers and chocolate for you; exactly the way you like it because he remembers every fucking little detail 

miguel 

miguel’s love language would be quality time with focus on giving undivided attention 

he knows that the time that he gets to spend with you is few and far between so he has to do fucking everything to make sure that the time is well spent???

like i just have this feel of like when he notices you really need him, he tells all of his men to leave him alone just miguel standing there like ‘no quiero oir de nadien, no quiero ver a nadien, se arreglan solo cabrones’ and giving them the fucking look™️

i just him coming to find you and being like, craddling you and sitting on the couch and having you settled in his lap

pushing your hair out of your of your face and placing it behind your ear and kissing your forehead gently

asking you what’s wrong in this cooing tone and just !!! eye contact !!! he wants you to know that hes truly there with you; not just physically but he’s emotionally spending this time with you i am crying

long walks out in sinaloa, like holding hands or with his arm wrapped around you and quiet whispers, him kissing the back of your hand constantly

like i can see you prompting that like, he’s freaking the fuck out about something and just as he’s starting to rage you’re like sabes que vamonos a caminar and i just 

chapo/palma 

so imma fucking do these two together because they give me the same vibes and their love language would be acts of service as fuck

so acts of service focus on “easing a burden” and i swear these men would make it their live’s mission to make your life as easy as possible 

they make you a fucking priority, they are the ones that if you need them without question they are dropping shit and coming to get you 

any responsibility they can take on for you and you let them oof they will jump on that shit immediately 

bringing in the groceries and they’re like NO NO NO MI REINA YO TE AYUDO and by ayudo he means you’re not lifting a finger again like... actually become playfully offended if you bring your own groceries in 

“amor, mi carr-” dont even have to finish the fucking sentence they’re already up and out to look at it 

“me haces un favorcito” and there is no way that the answer to it is no; no matter what comes after it, they will be like FUCKING YE S!!!

is it the stupidest thing like can you go get me my favorite ice cream bebe and um yeah they’re already gone 

and you doing acts of service for them has them falling in love with you all over again 

like could you imagine, you wake up early to make him breakfast because you know he’s going to go somewhere important and is leaving earlier than usual

and like he comes into the kitchen and you give them a little sleepy smile in your pjs as you serve them breakfast they would be d y i n g 

“no, bebe, no mi amor hermosa” in like disbelief as they come to pick you up and kiss you i’m not okay

TAKING THEM LONCHESITO AT WORK ALERT BECAUSE EVERYONE SEEING YOU’RE WILLING TO GO OUT OF YOUR WAY FOR THEM FUCKING OOF

ramon: 

this man is a literal motherfucking baby so he needs all the love but if i had to pin point a specific one for him it would be words of affirmation 

words of affirmation focuses on words that build security in the relationship and god is that what ramon fucking needs

the amount of times that you need to grab his face and probably bring him down to face you because he’s a tol bby and tell him that he’s doing enough fucking wow 

the amount of times you have to reassure him that’s he’s not just the stupid ass younger brother 

celebrating when he doesn’t fuckign do a pendejada or when he doesn’t go rage and kill someone 

but another reason i chose this one for him is because it also involves bragging and like building someone up in public and dear god ramon would never fucking stop talking about you 

if you did anything for him he’s telling everyone he encounters for the next four years about “mi novia es un angel, pinshi chulada que me cuida”

god forbid you dress up because he’s out here GASSING YOU UP about how gorgeous you look

benjamin: 

🥺 THIS MAKES ME SO FUCKING EMO NO ONE FUCKING LOOK AT ME BUT BENJAMIN’S LOVE LANGUAGE IS PHYSICAL TOUCH .... HE JUST WANTS TO KNOW THAT THERE’S SOMEONE WHO IS THERE FOR HIM AND HE CAN RELY TO LOVE ON HIM REGARSLESS OF THE CHOICES HE’S MADE 

and the way he knows you’re there is having that physical contact with you 

when he’s really going through it, you’re never out of his reach; he needs to be holding your hand, have his arm wrapped around you, 

i just how would you cure a sad or grumpy min?? literally just put your hand on his shoulder or like grab at his arm and he’s already instantly calming down 

just pouting at him with arms open and grabby hands for him to come hug you and he’s literally melting in your arms

holding benjamin, just the idea of it has me crying in the club like 

it could be when you’re hugging him and he is like leaning on your, and he’s putting his head in your neck and you’re just holding his head and rubbing his back as you like sh sh sh him 

or in bed like you’re in bed when he comes home and he’s visibly not okay so just reaching out your hand for him and him curling up to your chest

and benjamin being physically affectionate towards you like he doesn’t even have to think about it 

he can’t leave the house without giving you a goodbye kiss, it’s physically impossible for him to leave

whenever you come to see him, he’s automatically moving from wherever he is and moving beside you

just him bringing you into his chest and kissing the top of his head

likes standing with you having your arms wrapped around his torso i 

rafa

mi bebe you see also recieving gifts but another vibe to it 

he’s the one that buys you little things from wherever he’s been like coming home with twice as much shit as he left with 

and him being like “es que esto me hizo pensar en como...” and listing off all these stupid little things and how they made him think of you 

like this dude would be like but this is the color dress you were wearing on like your 3rd date 

this is the album that has that one song that we fucked to that one night in ensenada, no not that time the other time 

he’s such a fucking emo he would be the one writing you fucking love letters to send home and even when everyone else is shitting on him for it, he’s still there writing away about how much he missed you

the guys are like “la puedes llamar pendejo???” and he’s like “ ES QUE NO ENTIENDED CABRONES “ and him getting all fucking poetico 

could you imagine leaving him little notes for him to find; like in his shirts or in his car or literally anywhere

and when he finds it he goes so fucking heart eyes and never lets it go

will read it so many times he fucking memorizes it, keeps it with him at all times like he has a collection of all the notes you’ve ever written him i am 

[wheresmynaya]

Lopez’s 8 Ch.5 | Brittana

A lot of Miguel was listened to during the making of this chapter so take that as you will LOL. Happy Friday! 

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

Later that week, Santana and Brittany are seated at the dining table looking over headshots of the two guards that have been tasked to accompany the Toussaint out of Cartier. They both have very impressive backgrounds which worries Brittany.

“It says here this guy has worked for the Queen,” Santana reads aloud. Her expression is unreadable while Brittany’s jaw drops.

“Like the Queen of England?”

“Yup.”

“Fuck.”

Santana smirks, hearing Britt drop the F-bomb never quite loses it’s effect on her.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Santana assures her, “Cartier is as predictable as they are ridiculously expensive. I’ve got this.”

“I know you do, but still. This is the big leagues we’re dealing with,” Brittany replies, “You can’t just distract these guys with a flirty smile. It works on me, but I doubt it’ll work on them.”

Santana chuckles before reaching out to hold Brittany’s hand. She gives it a little squeeze as she says, “I’ve got something a little more effective in mind. Don’t worry, B. You said it yourself, I can get us out of anything if I have to."

Albeit, she’s still a little nervous though even with a plan in place. For as long as she’s been doing this, she’s found that the nerves are always there, especially when there’s a ton of money involved. Without the nerves to keep her on her toes, she can get complacent and mistakes can be made.

But with so much at stake here, there’s no time for that.

Brittany glances down at their hands folded together on top of the table. It’s something she hasn’t seen too often, it’s something more intimate than what she’s used to.  

A moment later, Quinn’s sliding open the heavy loft door and the sound of it has Santana and Brittany quickly pulling away. Quinn’s looking exactly how Santana would picture a suburban mom dressing if she worked at Vogue with her stripped J.Crew sweater – that looks itchy as hell by the way – paired with a suede pencil skirt and clunky clogs.

She’s fashionable, Santana gives her that, but she’d never get caught out in public with all that on.

“Look who rooted through Emma’s closet,” Santana teases as Quinn slips out of her raincoat and puts it away.

Upon hearing her name, Emma looks up from her work bench and glances over to Quinn. There’s an approving smile on her face as Quinn walks over to Santana and Brittany.

“Very cute. I love the shoes with that sweater, but I don’t recognize it? Are you sure it came from my closet?” Emma questions.

Santana and Brittany snicker as Quinn cuts them with a glare before turning to Emma, “No. This is actually mine.”

“Oh! Well then,” Emma tilts her head to the side, noting the outfit once more, before turning back to her work.

“Why am I not surprised by that?” Santana chuckles before taking a sip of her beer.

Quinn just shakes her head and joins them at the table. Brittany leans back in her chair so she can grab a bottle for Quinn too.

“How’d it go?” Santana asks while Quinn twists off the top, “We got the scan of the seating chart you sent. Thanks, by the way.”

Quinn bows her head before taking a sip. Since getting into Vogue, Quinn’s intel has been vital in the execution of the heist. She’s like their own personal inside-woman and she’s getting all sorts of important information. The seating chart has been the highlight of the week so far.

“I noticed there’s an empty spot at the table next to Rachel Berry,” Santana points out.

“Yeah, you hear anything about who her date will be?” Brittany asks Quinn, “How soon do they need to lock in the seating chart?”

“As soon as possible from what I’ve heard,” Quinn replies, “But I haven’t come across anything about who her escort could be. The girl goes through dates like there’s no tomorrow so I’m surprised it’s still up in the air.”

“You don’t have any idea either?” Brittany asks Santana.

The brunette shakes her head slowly, “Nope. None. I figured she would’ve chosen by now too.”

Quinn catches something off about Santana’s statement, but sips on her beer just to observe them. She’s worked with the pair for years, she knows their quirks and she can read them nearly as good as they can read each other. So when she sees the slight twitch in Santana’s upper lip, she knows that she’s telling a lie.

But to Brittany? That doesn’t make sense.

“I hope it’s Finn Hudson,” Brittany giggles, “Those T-Rex eating the Jew memes were hilarious!”

Santana chuckles along with her, “Hilarious. We’ll see what happens.”

“Well good work, Q!” Brittany praises as stands to stretch, “I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Thanks Britt,” Quinn smiles, “Goodnight.”

Santana says the same before Brittany presses a kiss to the top of her head. She swoons but the feeling gets a little watered down as Brittany kisses the top of Quinn’s head too before she walks off.

Quinn just smirks as she watches Santana slowly green with jealousy.

“Shut up,” Santana growls.

Quinn just laughs,” I didn’t say anything! You know, people wouldn’t think you two are dating if you guys didn’t act like you were dating.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Right. Well people should also mind their own damn business but I see I’m still waiting for that to happen too.”

“You’ll be waiting awhile for that one,” Quinn jokes but then she lowers her voice as she grows serious again, “You have an idea for Rachel’s date?”

Santana smirks behind her beer bottle, “Yeah. You.”

Quinn’s eyes go wide, “What? Are you serious? As if you don’t have me doing everything already. How would that even work? I’d need to – “

“Woah. Calm down, Lucy Q.”

Quinn glares back with her voice threateningly low, “Don’t call me that.”

Santana’s not fazed, “I’m joking. I do have an idea, but I can’t talk about it here.”

Her eyes drift off to where Emma sits at her station and Sugar’s over on the couch playing some game on her phone. Mercedes is over in the other corner too on her laptop and only God knows what she can hear from there.

“We need to talk somewhere private,” Santana says cryptically.

Quinn’s intrigued, “I’m off tomorrow. Let’s do coffee then?”

“Perfect.”

\\

Santana and Quinn decide to stay somewhat close by to the loft for their coffee date. They find a tall table by the back window and slide up on the stools. It’s not too busy for a Saturday morning so the two don’t have to wait long before a server stops by and takes their coffee orders. They make small talk until their coffees are brought over, not wanting to be interrupted once they get on to the serious topics.

“So what’s with all the secrecy?” Quinn questions after taking a sip of her latte.

Santana wipes away chocolate powder from her lip and shrugs, “I’ve made sure that everyone only knows what they need to in order to complete this job and I want to keep it that way.”

“Okay?”

“So you’ll have to make this look like Rachel Berry was the one who decided to pick her as her escort.”

Quinn’s even more confused and asks, “Who?”

“Dani.”

It takes her a moment for the name to sink in but then Quinn’s eyes bug out as she slumps back in her stool, “Dani? As in your ex-girlfriend, Dani?”

“That’s right,” Santana answers confidently before taking another sip of her coffee.

Quinn lets out a chuckle in disbelief, “Why in the hell would you bring her into this, Santana?”

“Why not? You’ve seen the tabloids, you know how painful it is to be within a two-foot radius of Rachel Berry. It would bring me so much joy knowing that Dani is out there suffering from an excruciating dinner with that woman. Nothing would make me happier actually. You and I both know the bitch has it coming anyway.”

Quinn doesn’t look too convinced, “Why do I feel like there’s something bigger going on here?”

“Because you like blowing things out of proportion?” Santana tries to deflect.

“No. I don’t think that’s it,” Quinn shakes her head and laughs, “I know you. You’ve got ulterior motives.”

Santana scoffs at the assumption but choses to stay quiet.

Quinn eyes her carefully, “Does Brittany know about this?”

Santana lets out a huff, “I don’t need to run everything by her. I’m the HBIC of this heist.”

The blonde smirks, seeing a crack in Santana’s front, “She wouldn’t approve, would she? That’s why you didn’t tell her. That’s why we had to come all the way over here to talk about it.”

Santana sips her coffee, trying collect her thoughts. The thing she loves and hates about Quinn is how fucking smart she is, the girl’s deductive skills are on point! When Quinn’s using them for the benefit of the team it’s great, but when she’s targeting Santana? Not good at all.

“Listen, I didn’t involve Britt because she’s dealing with other things and she hates Dani’s guts and you know Britt doesn’t hate anyone. If she got wind of this, she’d probably try to fuck with her hair or something ridiculous. We can’t have her distracted by trying to make Dani’s night a living hell,” Santana explains, “This has to stay between us and you have to make it look like Rachel Berry was the one who put this in motion.”

“Hmm,” Quinn hums as she rotates her latte glass in her hands. Santana’s putting her in a really questionable situation because at some point, Brittany’s going to find out and when she does, shit’s going to hit the fan. She shakes her head again and sighs, “I don’t know about this. It doesn’t seem right to leave Britt out.”

“Q, come on. Since when did you suddenly develop a moral code?” Santana questions, “If we put Dani in, at least it’s familiar territory.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Exactly. We can’t risk putting someone else in there that could jeopardize the heist. For the most part, Dani’s a puppy dog. She’ll just follow Rachel Berry around. She won’t get in the way, but we can’t say the same if someone else becomes the date. Just imagine if it really was Finn Hudson in there? He’s a dope but we don’t know him, we don’t know what he might do. Same with St. James and Puckerman, they’re loose units and we can’t afford to try our luck here.”

“You’ve put some thought into this,” Quinn points out, “You’ve always wanted Dani to be Rachel Berry’s date.”

Santana shrugs, opting to hold her cards close to her chest, “Like I said, everyone only knows enough in order to get their job done. All you need to know is that Dani has to be Rachel Berry’s escort and you need to make it look like she decided that. Will you organize this or you gonna make me do it myself?”

Quinn eyes her curiously, “And how would you do that?”

Santana sits back in her chair with her chin raised, “Don’t apply logic to Lopez.”

It takes her a moment but Quinn finally answers, “Fine. I’ll work on it.”

“Thank you,” Santana says with the bow of her head.

“But I’m not going to be the one to tell Brittany. That’s all you and you should do it before she finds out first,” Quinn warns, “The worse thing you can do is leave her out of this.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Santana brushes off.

“Seriously Santana,” Quinn takes a stern tone, “This won’t be good if you half-ass it.”

“I’ll sort it out, Mom. Don’t worry,” Santana says earnestly, “You just focus on getting Dani in good with Rachel Berry. It should be easy, they’re both full of themselves so they’ll have lots in common.”

Quinn’s already feeling uneasy about this, but she agrees anyway. All she can do now is hope that Santana isn’t a complete idiot and actually communicates her plans to Brittany first.

\\

They’re heading back to the car after they’ve finished up their coffees when Quinn asks, “So I’ve got a question.”

“Do I even want to know?” Santana grumbles.

“Considering I’m doing you a huge favor, yes.”

“Fine, what’s your question?”

“How the hell does The Great Santana Lopez, daughter of the infamous bandit Hector Lopez, wind up in jail?”

Santana knew Quinn was itching to ask that specific question, as is everyone. In fact, she’s actually surprised Quinn hasn’t asked sooner. Santana keeps it casual thought and replies, “I got caught up with the wrong woman.”

“Yeah, I got that much.”

Santana brushes off the sass, “I met Dani around the time Brittany and I were sort of hitting a rough patch. She was this musician at bar I frequented. She bought me a drink one night and we hit off. A few weeks later, she approached me with this hypothetical and I ran with it. We made a ton of money, but she was soft. I knew I should’ve bolted at the first sign of it, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. I guess I thought I could handle it?” Santana averts her gaze and pauses a moment before continuing, “When we got caught, she broke under pressure and threw me under the bus. I went down for everything and she barely got a slap on the wrist. The end.”

“What’s with the short version?” Quinn looks surprised as they get into the car, “I know the bare minimum about this woman. If you’re roping me into something that’ll potentially have Brittany on both of our asses you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

Santana rolls her eyes and sighs as she starts the car, “God, okay.”

\\

In the time that it takes for Santana to fill Quinn in on everything she’s missed regarding her involvement with Dani and her life in jail, they’re just around the corner from the loft.

“Shit Santana,” Quinn frowns, “I’m sorry. Dani seems so up herself, couldn’t imagine you with someone like that.”

Santana shrugs, “It happened, it’s whatever. Karma’s a bitch apparently, so I’m not worried. I’ll have my fun when she has to sit through dinner with Rachel Berry.”

“Right,” Quinn chuckles and after a pause she asks, “So you two were dating back then? You and Brittany?”

“What? No,” Santana laughs nervously.

“But you said you hit a rough patch?”

“Yeah, in our work,” Santana says and it’s not a complete lie, “Besides, sex isn’t dating.”

Quinn cocks her head to the side, “Did Brittany know that?”

It should be a simple answer, but Santana’s words get caught coming out.

She and Brittany never really talked about what was going on between them back then. There was this unspoken understanding that it was just casual sex between friends, they weren’t an item or anything serious. It would be something that would bite Santana in the ass one day, but you try being that close to Brittany without developing some kind of feelings for the woman.

Plus it’s Brittany, Santana knows how she is. She flirts and teases and everything’s a joke when it’s not about their work. There’s nothing serious behind her words. It took a long time, but Santana gets that now. She just wish she would’ve gotten it a bit sooner than later.

“We were partners…in crime,” Santana finally answers as they pull up to the loft, “That’s all we were and that’s all we are now.”

Brittany’s in the garage with the door open talking to Sugar when they spot the Range Rover pulling up. Brittany’s got her overalls on this time so she must’ve been working on something out there. They wave to Santana and Quinn and move out of the way so that Santana can park inside.

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing,” Quinn says, “Then or now.”  

“Of course you’d say that,” Santana sighs, “What’d it look like then? Enlighten me.”

“More than just a friends with benefits type of situation.”

Santana grits her teeth, “Well it wasn’t that. There were no feelings involved.”

Quinn’s brows furrow, “None?”

“None,” Santana lies.

Quinn rolls her eyes, “I don’t believe you.” She doesn’t wait to hear Santana’s snarky reply before she’s climbing out of the car.

Santana’s quick behind her though, “Why? Because I don’t need to have feelings for someone I’m having sex with? Because I don’t believe in settling down and doing the whole Desperate Housewives thing like you?”

They’ve grabbed Brittany and Sugar’s attention and the two watch on the sidelines as Santana and Quinn continue like they aren’t there.

Quinn rounds on her, “Is that what you think a real relationship looks like? No wonder you’re afraid of them.”

“I’m not afraid of them. I just spent the last hour talking about one!” Santana snaps but Quinn doesn’t look convinced, “You always want there to be this grand romance or something like we’re in a damn Hallmark movie, but it’s not like that. Life’s not like that. Things don’t always go your way especially when it comes to love and that’s just how it is.”

Quinn looks surprised, but she isn’t the only one.

Brittany watches from where she stands with this contemplative look on her face. She knows Santana can be pretty closed off when it comes to how she feels – it’s something that she’s gotten used to over the years – but that might’ve been the first time she heard just how pessimistic Santana really is.

Santana’s so caught up in Quinn poking at her that she doesn’t even notice.

“Damn Lopez, who hurt you?” Quinn asks half-heartedly.

“Well, the last woman I was sort of dating did send me to jail…” Santana jokes bitterly.

Instead of winding Santana back up again, Quinn just shakes her head and turns to greet Brittany and Sugar before heading inside. They smile in reply and Sugar trails after Quinn, not wanting to be around Santana when there’s steam coming off of her.

Brittany just goes over to the sink to wash the grease off of her hands. She can feel a storm brewing the longer Santana lingers and she wants to give all of her attention.

“You believe her? She pops out a kid and gets married and now she suddenly thinks she knows everything,” Santana rants as she throws her hands up in the air.

Brittany turns and goes to dry her hands, “She’s always been a know-it-all. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because it’s so annoying,” Santana grumbles before crossing her arms and walking over to lean against Brittany’s work bench, “Like if I wanted her to tell me something about myself I’d fucking ask.”

“Totally,” Brittany shrugs and goes to stand next to Santana, “But we kinda like her, right?”

“Jury’s out on that one.”

Brittany chuckles, “Come on, she’s been a great friend over the years. Remember that one time she punched that guy because he was being a prick to us?”

“Yeah, I remember. She broke his nose and we all got thrown out of the club,” Santana’s smile falls into a glare, “She ruined our night out.”

“I don’t know,” Brittany smiles sweetly, “I remember you being pretty proud of her.”

Santana ponders the memory and starts to smile. It was a wild night out for sure and seeing Quinn fly across the bar fist first like that in her frilly sundress was such an experience. They may have gotten thrown out of the club but she can’t lie and say it really ruined their night.

“She’s got her moments,” Brittany adds as she bumps their shoulders together, “You have to at least admit that.”

“I guess she does,” Santana agrees as she leans into Brittany.

Their hips are touching as they look out at the garage: there are a couple expensive models that are parked by the Range Rover plus Brittany’s motorcycle. It’s a quaint collection and Brittany uses that in attempt to change the subject before Santana winds herself up even further.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take the Fastback today,” Brittany says.

“I know you just waxed it,” Santana shrugs, “I didn’t want to dirty it up.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Brittany replies as they look over to the ‘67 Mustang Fastback in all it’s shiny jet-black glory, “I do it for you anyway. Can’t have you out there behind the wheel of something dirty, no matter what the songs say.”

Santana cracks a smile, “I don’t think Ridin’ Dirty is quite that literal, Britt.”

Brittany just shrugs, happy that she could at least make Santana smile even if it was a goofy joke.

“You know,” Santana says as she glances up at her, “You could’ve gotten a lot of money for that one if you would’ve sold it. It’s a classic.”

“I know,” Brittany nods, “But the Schuester Dealership job was an important one for us. It was our biggest one in awhile. I wanted a souvenir I guess.”

Santana remembers that dry spell all too well. The shitty cons they were pulling at the bingo hall weren’t scratching that itch, but they couldn’t come up with anything new either. It was a pretty rough time for them, but then Santana spotted the Fastback and it was like inspiration struck.

“Plus, you love that car,” Brittany says, “You came up with the entire heist just because you loved it so much. I couldn’t just sell it.”

Santana smiles in gratitude, “It’s a nice one for sure,”

Lifting cars wasn’t really her thing – it was more so something her father dabbled in – but an opportunity arose and she just had to try her hand. It was a complete success! That day, she and Brittany walked away with seven cars including the Fastback. They were on cloud nine, completely ecstatic for finally pulling themselves out of that rut the had been stuck in for weeks.

Santana also remembers how that day ended too and decides to push that memory far, far away. Instead, she thinks back on the super hot sex that took place in the backseat of the Fastback because thinking about sex always seems to make things better. Plus, she’s sensitive in more ways than one so she can’t help but reminisce.

After a moment Brittany feels it’s safe to ask, “So what were you and Quinn talking about before that got your feathers so ruffled up?”

It’s a little bit of a mood killer, but Santana answers her, “Just filling her in on the past. She didn’t really know much about what went on between me and Dani.”

“Lucky her,” Brittany jokes as she pushes from the work bench, “Glad I missed that conversation.”

Santana fails to hide her smile as she watches Brittany almost sulk away.

Maybe sulk isn’t the right word because that would imply that Brittany feels some type of way about it all and apparently she doesn’t. Santana just has to know what the real reason is behind Brittany’s tone, because she’s so use to hearing her say one thing when she actually means another. Santana’s been pretty guilty of that as well, but this isn’t about her.

It’s about Brittany and what she isn’t saying.

“Why do you always do that?” Santana’s words tumble out and it surprises her how easy the fall. It’s a question that she’s been begging to ask but she hasn’t had the guts; apparently she has them now.

“Do what?” Brittany questions but Santana spots uneasiness in her usual confident partner in crime. It makes her own confidence grow.

“The whole jealous ex thing,” Santana presses further, “It’s cute and all but I don’t get it. You say you aren’t jealous but I don’t know, your actions say something totally different.”

“I’m not jealous and I’m not one of your exes so that doesn’t really apply to me,” Brittany corrects before simply saying, “As your friend, I just don’t like her, never did. You know that.”

The way she says friend hits Santana differently than it usually does. That’s what they are – technically – but Quinn doesn’t react in the same way that Brittany does whenever Dani’s brought up and they’re friends too. Something doesn’t add up so Santana’s curiosity gets the best of her.

“Yeah, but I don’t know. You took that stance well before I even told you that we were sort of together,” Santana says but then there’s this playful glint in her eye as she smirks, “Is there something else going on?”

Brittany remains silent and Santana takes that as a win and presses further, “Could it be that you can’t stand the thought of me being with someone else?”

It’s bold of her to ask and she probably wouldn’t ever say something like that if it weren’t for the sudden boost of confidence she got from calling Brittany out for being jealous.

Brittany narrows her eyes at the question, also surprised by the sudden boldness.

The look makes all the annoyance brought on by Quinn earlier suddenly disappear for Santana. She’s got Brittany right where she wants her now. The teasing and flirting is familiar territory for them and there’s comfort in that. Even if she’s not going to pull the answer from Brittany this time, she’s going to at least rile her up a little for her efforts.

“Could it have something to do with someone else being able to do all the things you think only you can?” Santana asks, her voice low and raspy, “Because that’s exactly what I think it is.”

Brittany shivers at the accusation but finds herself leaning in, “Careful Santana, that’s a brave statement you’re making.”

Santana smiles back challengingly, “Is it?”

“It is,” Brittany husks. She takes a daring step closer, backing Santana further against the work bench.

“Tell me I’m wrong then?” When Santana’s met with silence again, her smirk deepens, “Tell me you weren’t just a little jealous of her.”

Brittany stands her ground and cocks a brow at her, but she doesn’t say a word.

Santana lets out a laugh, “You can’t, can you?”

Brittany looks back with this steely gaze and tries to fight the smile that threatens to form. This is what Santana does. She thinks she has the upper hand and gets really confident about that while Brittany merely waits her turn so she can show her who the real boss is.

Sometimes though, Brittany can’t tell if that’s exactly what Santana wants her to do.  

“You and I both know how good I can make you feel,” Brittany responds as she settles her hands on Santana’s hips, “Or have you forgotten?”

Santana hasn’t forgotten a thing – sometimes it’s like the only thing she can remember – but she keeps up with cocky smile for as long as she can, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine either,” Brittany smirks.

“Maybe?” Santana replies, “It’s been awhile, my memory is a little fuzzy.”

Brittany chuckles but it’s throaty and it sounds so sexy especially when she starts to trail her hands up and down Santana’s sides. There’s something dark and needy about the way Brittany stares down at her as she asks, “Should I remind you?”

Everything in Santana screams yes, a million times yes, but she can’t give up just yet. She has lasted this long, no use in caving now.

Brittany seems to have other ideas in mind though.

“That’s what you want, right? You want me to remind you,” Brittany grins devilishly as she presses up against Santana. She’s trapping her against the work bench, holding her in place as she continues, “See, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying so hard to rope me into this just like you always do, teasing me until I break.”

Santana sucks in a shaky breath. With Brittany this close to her now, everything’s going a little foggy. She can smell the peppermint on her breath and her soft lips are just right there. All she has to do is lean in.

“Is it working?” Santana asks with her eyes glued to Brittany’s mouth. She watches her lips form the words like she’s hypnotized.

“It always works,” Brittany says with a chuckle, “But you like the build up too much for me to do anything about it just yet.”

Santana swallows dryly. God, Brittany knows her so damn well. She knows just how to work her up to the point of no return. This is more than just a teasing game now, they both know exactly where this is headed.

“It’s okay,” Brittany whispers hotly against Santana’s cheek, “I’ll play along.”

The way the words fall sends a shiver up Santana’s spine.  

“Because I know exactly how you like it, baby,” Brittany says and if it were anyone else calling her that, Santana would cringe but it sounds so good when it’s Brittany.

Then again, Santana’s sure she’d let Brittany call her almost anything with the way she’s staring at her right now. She’s looking at Santana like she’s a whole meal and she’s ready to eat!

She loves when Brittany’s like this – like she’s trying to stake her claim or something – and maybe that’s why Santana was never truly annoyed by her reaction to Dani. Maybe she kept Dani around because it was the only time she could catch a glimpse of how Brittany really felt about her?

But that’s just another maybe, Santana’s head is full of those.

“Did Dani?” Brittany challenges as she comes to stare Santana down but – judging by the look on Santana’s face – she knows the answer already, She’s not stopping though. If a reminder is what Santana needs, she’ll be all too willing to give her that.

“Did she know how to make your back arch with just her tongue?” Brittany adds and Santana feels her heart rate spike.

Apparently Brittany’s trying to kill her today.

She leans in closer so that her lips are just brushing the shell of Santana’s ear while she husks, “Did she have you calling out her name like you’ve called out mine?”

Santana swallows thickly as her thighs clench together.

It’s the wrong move because just that little bit of friction has her biting her lip at the sensation. Sex with Dani was good, but it wasn’t anything compared to the connection she had with Brittany and it sounds like the blonde knows that.

Brittany smirks at Santana’s continued silence, “You leave scratches down her back too? You ever beg her to keep going because it felt so good and you didn’t ever want her to stop?”

Santana’s griping the work bench so hard that she could probably break off chunks of wood if she really put her mind to it. All she wants to do is to reach out and touch Brittany, but she doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of caving first.

And maybe she’s a little bit of a glutton for punishment. Maybe she likes to see how long she can wait, how long she can hold out?

Even if the whole silent approach isn’t really working for her, Brittany’s got her wrapped around her pinky and Santana’s not sure if that’s entirely a bad thing or not.

“Yeah, I bet she didn’t,” Brittany says as her hands glide up Santana’s back, “You know how I know that?”

“How?” The sound of her own voice surprises Santana, but Brittany’s got her hooked now and she’s hanging on every word.

“Because she’s not me,” Brittany says simply as she leans in and nudges Santana’s nose with the tip of hers, “She doesn’t know every inch of you like I do. She can’t drive you crazy like I can. She wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Brittany’s so damn right, but Santana tries to regain some control here regardless, “I don’t know, Britt, you’re not the only one in the world who can make me come.”

Brittany’s taken aback by the statement and Santana knows the moment the words leave her that she’s really in for it this time. Brittany knows Santana’s right, but no one has made Santana come the way that she can. She’s not like any of those other girls Santana has been with and somewhere deep down, Santana knows that too.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not just about getting you off. It’s more than that for me. I’ve heard every one of your sexy little moans, Santana,” Brittany tells her, “Hell, I know when you’re wet without even touching you.”

Santana licks her lips as Brittany pulls away with that same hungry look in her eye.

“Like right now,” Brittany adds as she glances down Santana’s body then lifts her gaze to met darkened brown eyes, “I bet you’re soaked.”

“I’m not,” Santana tries to hang onto the last bit of dignity and matches Brittany’s heated gaze.

“So sure of yourself?” Brittany smirks beneath hooded eyes, “Show me then.”

Never one to back down, Santana pulls Brittany’s hand out from behind her and guides her down, down, down until she feels her warm fingers caressing her inner thigh.

She’s thanking the Gods above for deciding to wear a loose fitting skirt because Brittany’s able to move without being so restricted. Although, she’s pretty accustomed to that as well considering Santana’s wardrobe of skin tight everything.

When the pads of Brittany’s fingers press against Santana’s covered center, Santana can’t help but let out a whimper at the feel. God, she’s already so damn sensitive. The feeling only intensifies as Brittany starts to run her fingers along the damp silk there. She can feel how wet she is – even with the barrier in the way – and it has Brittany licking her lips.

“Liar,” Brittany husks, “You’re dripping.”

“Whoops,” Santana replies with a sexy smirk, “My mistake.”

Brittany lets loose another throaty chuckle. The things Santana does to her…she’d do anything right now to be inside. To have Santana literally in the palm of her hand like this after she’s waited so long for it, she wants nothing more than to have her in every way imaginable.

Her fingers are still gliding back and forth at a slow but steady pace and there’s this trance setting in again as Brittany asks, “This all for me?”

“Yeah,” Santana moans helplessly. Her body is all a buzz just waiting for Brittany to do something. All resolve has gone out the window now along with her dumb rules about holding out. She needs this, she needs Brittany in however way she decides to take her.

Santana’s past caring now, she’s that desperate.

“Look at you,” Brittany mumbles and goes to rest her forehead against Santana’s. They’re both looking down at where Brittany’s hand is slowly moving along Santana’s center, “So wet.”

Santana wants nothing more than to rip the skirt away completely just so that she can watch how Brittany glides through her.

“What should I do?” Brittany starts to make lazy circles, her fingertips bumping Santana’s clit every so often.

The feel makes Santana squirm. She needs more of Brittany but every time she rolls her hips into her, the woman eases her touch. She’s teasing her again, she’s wanting Santana to beg for it. She wants Santana to be so turned on that she can’t think about anything else but this.

Honestly, Santana’s not that far off.

When Brittany moves in close again - her nose brushing Santana’s - she says, “Tell me, Santana. What should I do with all this?”

“Fuck,” Santana breathes out raggedly, “Just go inside like–“

She doesn’t finish her sentence but instead takes Brittany’s hand that’s up her skirt and guides it beneath her panties. She doesn’t miss the little moan Brittany releases as soon as she’s met with Santana’s soft, wet heat. She’s so unbelievably turned on right now, she doesn’t care how desperate this is making her look.

“Oh my God,” Brittany’s voice is gravely as she takes a single digit and runs it through Santana’s slickness.

“Inside,” Santana whimpers as her hips start to move in time with Brittany’s rhythm, “I need more.”

“Okay San,” Brittany whispers before pressing their lips together for a searing kiss. She does her best to swallow Santana’s moans as she sinks into her easily with two fingers.

It’s the best feeling in the entire world and it’s just like Brittany remembered: tight, wet and so damn hot.

Santana grabs onto Brittany – one hand settles on the back of her neck while the other digs into her hip – and she really wishes they had moved somewhere a little more private because anyone who happened to walk past would definitely catch an eyeful.

There’s also the possibility of someone inside the loft coming out to the garage and catching them in the act, but with the way Brittany’s pumping into her…giving a fuck is becoming a distant memory.

“Feels so good,” Santana groans against Brittany’s mouth and she’s already embarrassingly close but you can’t really blame her because it has been a long time since she was with another woman.

Plus, Brittany has some talented fingers.  

She’s already hitting that spot she knows Santana loves because the girl lets out a, “Don’t st – fuck!”

“Someone’s going to hear if you keep that up,” Brittany warns playfully against her ear before taking the lobe between her teeth for a light nip, “You want everyone coming out here? See how wet you are for me?”

Santana wants to roll her eyes at the smug tone, but she really can’t. She’s completely at Brittany’s mercy right now, so she tries her hardest to keep quiet.

“I’m not going to stop,” Brittany tells her and uses the pad of her thumb to press a little at Santana’s sensitive clit.

Santana’s knees are starting to shake as she trembles in Brittany’s arms. She’s not sure how long she can keep herself standing if Brittany keeps this up.

The blonde must feel that too and swiftly lifts Santana onto the work bench for some relief. The change in position has Brittany hitting that spot a little deeper than before and Santana’s throws her head back at the feel of it.

“Britt!” Santana cries out, momentarily forgetting the whole thing about being quiet as she rocks against Brittany’s hand, “Just like that.”

Brittany pulls back and smirks at the sight of Santana spread open on her work bench with that sexy face of hers – the one she makes when she’s lost in the chase – and Brittany tries hard to commit the scene to her memory. She’s not going to want to forget this and it’ll definitely make working out here a lot easier.

“Like this?” Brittany accentuates each word with a harder thrust, “This how you want me?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, just uses her free hand to press against the small of Santana’s back to get her to move in time with her pumps. Santana takes the hint and let’s Brittany guide her hips while the blonde dives back in to suck kisses at her neck.

“You’re so sexy,” Brittany mumbles, letting her lips brush against the sensitive spot beneath Santana’s ear. She tastes like sweat and something that’s entirely Santana, Brittany can’t get enough of her.

“I’m so close,” Santana whines and threads her fingers through Brittany’s hair to hold her where she is. The feel of Brittany’s lips on her skin pressing soft kisses behind nips has Santana’s blunt nails scraping at the back of Brittany’s scalp. It’s too much and too little all at once.

God, why did she put this off for so long? How could she have gone this long without Brittany making her feel like this?

Santana starts grinding back against Brittany and the motion causes the work bench to bang against the wall in time to the roll of her hips.

And it’s loud.

She should really stop before the sound alerts the others and they’re caught, but she’s too far gone. She’s needs release and she needs it now.

But nothing ruins an orgasm like an unwanted interruption, so Brittany pulls out –  much to Santana’s protest – and quickly lifts Santana again and lays her down on the next best flat service which happens to be the hood of the Fastback.

She’s quick to get back to work because she knows how long Santana’s waited for this and – as much as she’d love to take her time – she’s had enough of the teasing game. When she sinks back into Santana they both let out a moan at the feel of soft, smooth skin and tight heat.

Everything Brittany said before – about all the little ways she knows Santana – she’s backing up now because every curl of her fingers, every dirty word whispered drives Santana a little closer to the edge. It is truly something only Brittany’s capable of and she’s proving it now.  

“You’re so good at this,” Santana whimpers and the compliment makes Brittany smirk before she leans in for a sensual kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth and when Santana surprises Brittany with a hard nip at her bottom lip, Brittany let’s out a moan of her own.

“Fuck Santana,” Brittany breathes out as she pulls away.

There’s this sexy, lust-filled look on Santana’s face and she looks so damn pleased to see Brittany a flushed mess too. She tries valiantly to pull her head from the clouds though and focus on keeping up with her rhythm: in and out, in and out, in and –

“Holy shit!” Santana groans as her head falls back against the hood. She’s so desperate for Brittany’s touch that she feels herself tightening around slender fingers.

“Careful,” Brittany coos as she presses into Santana, taking her free hand to smooth over the side of her head. It’s gentle, a little too gentle for Santana’s liking right now.

“Just keep going,” Santana tells her and Brittany does just that.  

With Brittany pressing flush against her, Santana’s able to hook her heels around the backs of Brittany’s thighs while the blonde continues to pump in and out. She’s missed this so fucking much, the way Brittany takes care of her is like no other and Santana loves it. She loves that she doesn’t have to train Brittany on how to fuck her, she just knows.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Brittany asks after a particularly loud moan. There’s that word again too sending shivers all over Santana’s body. Why doesn’t it sound as good when someone else calls her baby? It never did when Dani called her that, so why can she hear it when it’s Brittany?

Deep down, she knows why.

“Mhmm,” The brunette nods and starts to pick up the pace, meeting Brittany thrust for thrust. She feels like a rubber band about to snap she’s that wound up, but she isn’t slowing down. She rocks in time with Brittany’s rhythm, just riding her fingers like there’s no tomorrow.  

“That’s my girl,” Brittany smirks and winds her free arm around Santana’s waist to hold her in place.

My girl she said and the sound of it shoots a jolt of arousal through Santana’s whole body. To be Brittany’s, that’s something she wouldn’t have expected. She tries not to put too much thought into it though because they’ve both been known to say things they usually don’t when they’re swept up in the moment.

Santana reminds herself that this isn’t anything more than a much-needed fuck, no need to read between the lines. Plus she’s clenching so tight around Brittany’s fingers that she can’t really think of anything else right now. Her hips have decide to do whatever they want and just jut up uncontrollably, chasing that release.  

She can feel how wet she is as Brittany delves in and out. She can’t even hear herself but she just knows Brittany’s name is falling from her lips in ragged breaths like it’s the only word she can remember.

Brittany notices the signs and pulls Santana up, holding her close as she continues to pump into her. Santana wraps her arms around Brittany’s shoulders as their body press so impossibly close together. She’s hanging on for dear life while the muscles in Brittany’s forearm begins to burn from the exertion.

Santana pants into the crook of Brittany’s neck, “Fuck Britt, I’m gonna…”

“I got you,” Brittany says softly in reply.

With another thrust, Santana’s falling apart right then and there. Brittany is quick to cover Santana’s mouth with her own, hoping to muffle the sounds of her whines as she let’s Santana ride out the aftershocks.

Everything’s a blur as Santana’s body tenses. She makes a mental note to never hold out on Brittany ever again because this feeling is too much to go so long without. Hell, she’s sure she’s close to blacking out, but she’s so glad she hasn’t because then she would’ve missed this look Brittany’s giving her.

It’s soft mixed with that familiar hunger and something else she doesn’t quite recognize. It quickly morphs into something devious as Brittany pulls out her glistening fingers and slowly slides them into her mouth.

She keeps eye contact with Santana as she licks them clean, humming at the very taste of the woman beneath her coating her digits.

Santana can already feel herself building again at the sight.  

“You’re in big trouble,” Santana pants behind a smirk, watching Brittany’s talented tongue glide along her index finger before it disappears again in her mouth.

“Me?” Brittany asks innocently as she releases her fingers with a pop.

“Yeah, you,” Santana’s heart is pounding as the throb between her legs intensifies.

“Why? I just gave you a mind blowing orgasm,” Brittany responds sweetly, “You should really thank me.”

Santana just narrows her eyes on the girl, imagining what she wants to do to her first, “Once I regain the feeling in my legs…game over.”

“I hope so,” Brittany winks before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Santana’s lips. Santana can taste herself there and it makes her moan while Brittany says, “I’m planning on riding your tongue at some point tonight.”

Santana’s jaw drops at the bluntness as Brittany helps her to stand on shaky legs.

“Either that or maybe I want you to ride mine? We’ll see. I’m open to suggestions but I’m definitely not done with you yet,” Brittany grins sweetly before turning away to head inside, “I’m going for a long shower. You can join me if you want.”

Santana’s just left standing there thinking that maybe Brittany isn’t the only one here that’s in big trouble. Then again, she’s not too surprised. Trouble always manages to find her somehow.

[everwitch-magiks]

dance with somebody (ch. 12)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 11

“Hey, Whiskey. Whisk. Yo! Earth to Whiskey, hello?"

Belatedly, Whiskey looks up from his phone.

Tango is watching him from the opposite stall with a somewhat bemused expression.

“Whatever Beth is texting you about, it absolutely can’t be that interesting.”

Whiskey reluctantly locks his screen, despite the fact that those three little dots clearly indicate that Miguel is already texting him back. Again. Almost as if Miguel is actually enjoying their near constant back-and-forth just as much as Whiskey is.

There’s an oddly fluttery feeling in Whiskey’s stomach. He feels… Calmer than he thought he would, sure, but still more nervous than he’s been before a game in a long time. To think that Miguel is out there, in the audience, about to watch him play – to think that Whiskey is taking Miguel back to the Haus, after, that Miguel is coming along to the kegster. Whiskey still has no fucking clue what he’s going to tell the team, unless you count the vague idea of as little as possible.

At least he’s managed to pick out an outfit.

“Whisk? Hey, Whiskey!”

Whiskey looks back up at Tango – he has no idea how long he spaced out this time, but apparently it’s been long enough for Tango’s expression to shift from amused into suspicious.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was just asking if you'd want to run by Stop-n-Shop, after,” Tango says, slowly. “Hey. Are you-”

“Let’s show those Yale boys what we’re all about!” Whiskey lets out a breath as coach Hall steps into the locker room, effectively interrupting whatever Tango was going to ask. "Remember, we want to be the ones setting the pace tonight – we're going for a strong offense, right from the get go. Lyons, Brant, make sure you're always keeping an eye on each other, and on Chow, even when you're moving up the ice. Piper, Whisk, I’m going to need to borrow you two for a couple of minutes – please come with me. I promise this will be quick.”

Whiskey looks up, meeting coach Hall’s eyes and giving a quick nod. Then he searches for Pips’s gaze across the locker room, raising an eyebrow in question.

Pips looks equally bewildered.

Coach Hall leads them out of the locker room, down a corridor and then left, and it takes Whiskey that long to realize they’re heading over to coach Hall’s office. For a brief moment he wonders if he should feel concerned, but then they’re stepping inside and Whiskey comes face to face with a man and a woman dressed smartly in tailored, black suits. The woman is wearing heels, and the man is carrying a briefcase. They both look decidedly friendly, if a little intimidating in their impeccableness.

The meeting is brief, just like coach Hall indicated, but it’s still something of an out-of-body experience. Because it can’t be real, not really real, the way coach Hall just said Whiskey’s name in the same sentence as one of the most agile and adaptable players I’ve had the pleasure to work with and Connor has taken on more of a leading role on our team this season, on and off the ice.

It’s not like Whiskey doesn’t know he’s good at hockey – really good, even – but there’s a significant difference between plain old really good and all those impossible things coach Hall just claimed.

Yet somehow, the game managers for the Houston Aeros look sufficiently impressed.

“You two have shown some particularly great teamwork, during the first half of this season,” the woman chimes in – Whiskey thinks she said her last name is Larsen, maybe? She probably mentioned a first name, too. Whiskey wishes his mind would stop spinning. “Of course, we’ve had the opportunity to watch Connor play several times last season as well.”

“Oh,” Whiskey says eloquently.

Larsen smiles.

“It’s very impressive to see how quickly you have adjusted to playing with new teammates,” she adds, turning towards Pips. “And evidently, Samwell continues to attract players with a lot of potential. Nathan Piper, is it? Very nice to meet you, too. You’ve been racking up some quite impressive statistics, so far.”

“Thank you,” Pips says carefully, almost unsurely. “I’ve really been able to learn so much, since I came to Samwell. And Whiske… Uh, Connor’s been a great help. The whole Samwell team is so great.”

Whiskey smiles, briefly.

“Sounds to me like you’re both thriving,” Larsen continues brightly. “We’re very much looking forward to watching you play tonight, as well as seeing how your performance continues during this season. Both of you, of course.”

Yet as she speaks, she shifts her focus back towards Whiskey.

“Connor, when do you graduate? This spring?”

“Next spring,” Whiskey corrects her. “I’m a junior, this year.”

Larsen pauses, almost unnoticeably.

“Right,” she continues, just as pleasantly as before. “Very good to know. Well, we’d certainly like to keep in touch with you both. Here – you should take my card.”

Whiskey accepts it and glances at it briefly – Emily Larsen, GM of the Houston Aeros. Right.

And somehow, that’s it.

After they’ve left the room, walked back down the corridor and turned the corner, Pips stops abruptly.

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Whiskey says quietly, staring at the card in his hand. “I know.”

“Holy shit. What the actual fucking fuck.”

Whiskey leans back against the wall. He offers Pips a small smile – because really, Pips’s bewildered expression is just so precious, it almost makes Whiskey forget his own internal turmoil.

“Ever thought about it?” he asks loftily. “Going pro.”

“Me?” Pips all but squeaks, and there’s a joke waiting to be made there somewhere. “The NHL? Are you crazy?”

“Apparently not.” Whiskey grins slightly. “I have it on good authority that The Houston Aeros think you have plenty of potential.”

“Fuck you, don’t even say that.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear this much, Pips.”

“What about you?” Pips asks, completely ignoring all of Whiskey’s chirps. “Do you wanna do it?”

That makes Whiskey pause. It’s a serious question.

“Yeah,” he says, after a beat. “Yes. I’m going to.”

Pips’s eyes widen.

“You’ll play for the Houston Aeros?”

“Not necessarily the Aeros,” Whiskey adds quickly. “But play in the NHL? Yeah. That’s the idea.”

It’s something he’s been saying out loud more and more often, lately. Somehow, that makes it seem less like the dream it’s always been, and more like an actual possibility. It’s weird. The words hanging in the air between them shouldn’t feel more like a tangible, irreversible truth than the business card he’s holding in his hand.

“Wow,” Pips breathes out. “I’ve never, like… Thought of that as something you can just do.”

“I’m sure it won’t be anywhere near that easy,” Whiskey says honestly. “But I know I’m going to try.”

“That’s so cool,” Pips says. His eyes are wide. “And I mean, if anyone can do it, it’s you. It’s definitely you.”

Whiskey laughs a little.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m serious!” Pips sounds almost insulted on Whiskey’s behalf. “You are by far the best player on this team. By far. You’re so fast, and you play so smart, and you’re agile and adaptable and all those things coach Hall said in there. And I learn so, so much from you, every day. I play so much better when I play with you. We all do.”

“Hey, now,” Whiskey says abruptly. He has literally no idea what to do with that information. “We, uh. We should be getting back. Got a game to play, remember?”

Pips grins. He looks unfairly relaxed for someone who has just articulated his private thoughts and feelings out loud. How do people just do that?

“A game to win, right?” Pips chirps.

“Yeah,” Whiskey agrees, absentmindedly.

Impulsively, he reaches out to ruffle Pips’s hair, just a bit – sort of in the same way he might’ve pet a cute little puppy, if he liked dogs, or tried to mess with an annoying little brother, if he had one. A friendly, affirming gesture. Sort of.

Or not. Because unfortunately, what felt like a good and reasonable idea in Whiskey’s mind feels like an overly stiff and unnatural motion in reality, and for a second Whiskey takes the opportunity to thoroughly regret his entire existence.

(It’s never been a completely conscious thing, how Whiskey has always been careful not to touch his teammates outside of a celly. It’s not something he’s particularly inclined to think about now, either.)

Somehow, it had just felt like the right thing to do, in that moment – something in place of those right words to say that Whiskey will surely never find, right in between thank you and I like playing with you, too and I’m here for you. I see you. I’ll always have your back.

Still. Pips doesn’t look at all bothered.

Instead, Pips –  even with his hair ruffled  – looks otherwise… Unruffled? For some reason, Whiskey’s impossibly awkward gesture only makes him grin wider than before. And in Pips’s eyes, there’s something surprisingly like recognition. Like understanding. Almost as if Pips has somehow heard all those words Whiskey will never speak.

“Race you back!”

And then Pips takes off. Whiskey blinks, watching him go, dumbfounded.

Then he gets moving.

(ch. 13)

[klovenhooves]

Johnny Lawrence and the Five Love Languages, Chapter Two: Acts of Service

Johnny felt like he’d been living in Groundhog’s Day. Every day he woke up, and it still wasn’t the weekend yet. He was constantly tapping his foot, jumping his leg up and down under the table, as if willing time to speed up. He wasn’t used to feeling so jittery about something – Miguel commented knowingly that Sensei Lawrence had overdosed on caffeine when he fidgeted too much during training.

 He got some extra push ups for that, not that he minded, the little twerp.

 And then, suddenly, it was Saturday morning, and he was jogging out to his car, keys jangling like his nerves, trying not to think about how eager he was to get to the beach. This time they would be without Robby, without Anthony, alone in the ocean.

 Maybe Diaz had a point with his little love language thingy.

 At least, that’s what he thought at ten in the morning. By noon, he was pretty sure the love languages thing was bullshit, because he was still waiting for Daniel to show up, and he was about to admit to himself and his stubborn pride that he wasn’t coming. He scoffed, pushing himself off the hood of his car and into the driver’s seat, trying to stifle the ripple of disappointment that ached a little like embarrassment.

 He was a high school kid again, playing games with the pretty girl and hoping she knew the rules. Except this time, he was the one who didn’t know the rules.

 He grabbed his phone from the cupholder beneath the radio where he’d left it to keep the sand and salt out of it. He almost didn’t look at it. What would he find there, but another avenue to hurt his feelings? Daniel probably hadn’t called.

 He sighed and pressed the top button. There were five missed calls on it, and a text from Robby.

 “CALL ME NOW,” it said.

He obeyed the text message, thinking ironically that whatever shit was about to hit the fan would at least distract him from Daniel LaRusso.

 “What the hell did you do?” Robby’s voice was hoarse, tired, like he’d been yelling for a while already. Johnny’s hand twitched around his keys, itching to turn them in the ignition, to find his son, find the problem. He stuck his hand under his thigh and forced himself to stay still.

 “What did I do?” Johnny repeated. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

 He could hear something in the background, deep sounds of wood hitting wood, and running water. “Cobra Kai never dies, right?” Robby sneered. “Isn’t that what you say?”

 “Yeah…” Johnny trailed off, trying to put together too few available pieces of the puzzle. “Look, I don’t know what –”

 “Cobra Kais trashed Miyagi-do last night,” Robby spat.

 Suddenly, Daniel’s absence made sense. “Send me the address,” he said firmly, speaking over Robby when he could hear his son preparing to deliver another painful blow. “Now.”

 ***

 He could see the devastation before he even got out of the car. “Cobra Kai Never Dies” seared into his vision from the side of LaRusso’s favorite yellow vintage car, black and stark and painful to look at. He grimaced, shoving the door of his car open and listening for the approach.

 It didn’t take long for Daniel to find him.

 “Get the hell out of here, Johnny,” he snapped from the porch, and even from a distance, Johnny could see that he was sunburned, sweaty, exhausted. “Before I call the cops.”

 “I didn’t do this,” Johnny answered, holding his hands up in the sign of surrender. “I swear. I would never.”

 “I don’t believe you.”

 That hurt more than Johnny thought it would. He blinked and looked down at the worn earth beneath his feet, almost sand. They should have been at the beach right now. They could have been having fun.

 He steeled himself. As much as he didn’t want to, he was going to have to swallow his pride if he wanted to convince Daniel of his innocence. More than that, he wanted to convince Daniel so completely that he would never again believe him capable of something like this.

 Because what man would love someone capable of something like this? Whoever had done this had stomped into Daniel’s sanctuary, his shrine to his dead teacher, and crushed it under their boot without remorse. Even when he was blindingly angry, drunk, miserable, Johnny would have never dared wreak havoc here.

 “You don’t have to believe me,” he said. “Just tell me what needs fixing.”

 Daniel took a step down from the porch, eyes intent on Johnny, so sharp that Johnny wanted to flinch away from them. “What?”

 Daniel was itching for a fight, Johnny could see it in his gaze. He wondered if that would make him happy, and considered giving it to him.

 But no, he would be selfish, and deny Daniel their personal brand of intimacy. Let this be a new one. “Let me help,” he said softly. “What do you need me to do?”

 Daniel furrowed his brows, eyes roving over Johnny’s face like he would find the truth in the lines around his eyes. Johnny let him look, content to suffer under his gaze, waiting to be sent away.

 “You really didn’t do this?” He wanted to believe him, Johnny could see in the sad downturn of his mouth.

 “LaRusso, if I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t resort to vandalism,” Johnny replied, tilting his head, giving Daniel a genuine smile instead of his typical smirk. “This has teenage kid written all over it.” Then, without thinking, he blurted, “We aren’t teenagers anymore.”

 Daniel clenched his jaw, the bunched muscles protruding from the pressure. “You’re right, we aren’t.”

 ***

 Taking Johnny through the back gate brought the initial shock back; Daniel could see the wreckage as if through his eyes – the broken pots and tipped over plants, the shredded punching bag, the toilet paper all over the trees, the spray paint. He had been trying to clear it up for three hours, at least, and it still looked like he hadn’t even started. It almost made him turn around and leave – though what he would do when he left, Daniel couldn’t tell. He was stuck between wanting to fix everything, put it all back the way Miyagi had it and going to a bar and getting wretchedly drunk.

 “Holy shit,” Johnny breathed beside him. Daniel spared him a glance, enough to see that he was clearly still dressed for the beach, and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t called to tell Johnny he wasn’t coming – that felt like the closest thing to a courtesy he could give him when he saw the dojo. He had stood there, where Johnny was standing now, trying to reconcile the Johnny he had been thinking about against his will all week with the one who was callous enough to send his students to do something like this.

 He didn’t dare hope that Johnny had nothing to do with it, lest he be wrong.

 “Where do you need me, boss?” Johnny asked when Daniel didn’t answer.

 “Uh,” he stammered, looking around the yard. “We really just need to get the trash picked up first.”

 “Cool,” Johnny said, turning away and yanking toilet paper out of the tree beside him. “Go get some water, LaRusso, you look dead on your feet.”

 “I don’t need –”

 “You do,” Johnny interrupted, and there was that unfathomable softness again, apparent in the wrinkles around his eyes, in the set of his mouth. “Go get some water, and get some for my kid, too.”

 Daniel stared at him for a moment, trying to replace the hardened, angry face of Johnny Lawrence in his mind with this almost reasonable one. He sighed, feeling his muscles ache with the breath, and nodded. He returned a few minutes later with cold bottles of water, holding them up for the kids to see. He could feel Johnny watching him as he passed them out, cracking his own open and drinking greedily until the bottle was empty.

 When he looked back, Johnny gave him a self-satisfied smirk and kept cleaning.

 Daniel felt like he was being constantly barraged by epiphanies about Johnny Lawrence lately. He remembered keenly the understanding he felt when he stood next to him at his childhood apartment.

 “A nice house doesn’t mean nice things are going on inside.”

 The words made so many unexplained details about Johnny make sense that Daniel kept catching himself thinking about it weeks after. No wonder Johnny had been so angry as a teenager – no wonder he’d adapted so well to Kreese’s teachings. No wonder karate had always been so important, and such a dire skill to learn.

 Now, he was seeing new facets, like Johnny surfing, still boyish and energetic in the ocean, familiar and knowledgeable in the way Daniel always wanted to be about anything.

 And here he was, slaving away under the hot sun, to prove to Daniel that he hadn’t trashed his dojo.

 Daniel wanted to comment that he didn’t think a rich boy from Encino could work so hard, but he found that he was unwilling to break the easy peace they’d found. Instead, he helped Johnny unhook the punching bag from its hook and carried it inside with him.

 “I can tape it up,” Johnny said, surveying the cuts critically. “That should hold it for a while, depending on how much you wail on this thing daily.”

 Daniel nodded. “I’ll get the tape.”

 He ended up kneeling across from Johnny on the wood floor, his hands holding the different gashes together so Johnny could tape them closed, his hands both careful and sure.

 “I will find out who did this,” Johnny said after a while, peeling another piece of duct tape free. “I didn’t teach them –”

 “I know you didn’t,” Daniel interrupted, and he could see Johnny turn his head to see his face more clearly. “No criminal worth his salt would stay to clean up the mess.”

 Johnny chuckled, a genuine laugh under his breath, and Daniel smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever heard that laugh before.

 “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Daniel muttered, ducking his head lower, closer to the punching bag so Johnny couldn’t see it. “I should have.”

 “No,” Johnny muttered, pressing the duct tape into the gash Daniel was holding closed, his fingers brushing over Daniel’s as he secured the tape in place. “I wouldn’t have called me either.”

 Daniel looked up at him, accidentally catching his gaze and holding it. There was a sadness in Johnny’s eyes that Daniel could feel, radiating from him like he was trying to warn him away. He wondered why that was. He could feel the edge of Johnny’s hand, pressed onto the punching bag right near his own, warm and soft.

 “John –”

 “Dad,” Sam blurted, trotting up the stairs and into the house. “We need more hands to pick up the statue.”

 Daniel tore his eyes away and found his daughter, face red and hair frazzled. “I’ll be right there,” he said.

 “Let’s go,” Johnny said, picking up the punching bag, his voice a forced replica of his usual tone. “I’ll help you.”

 Daniel was left to gape after him as he carried the heavy bag by himself back to its hook and replaced it.

 ***

 Johnny couldn’t explain where his strange feeling of hope came from, but once it settled in, he couldn’t shake it. Something about working with Daniel to fix that punching bag, the way they spoke plainly, even if they said it while looking at the punching bag instead of each other, felt important, like Daniel was starting to see him as something other than an immature bully.

 He followed Daniel and Sam to the tipped over statue, where tracks in the grass told him that Robby and Sam had already tried to pick up the statue themselves and stumbled. He could tell just by looking at it that it was too heavy for the kids to pick up by themselves, and maybe even too heavy to himself and Daniel to pick up.

 “Robby, can you get me those two broken fence planks?” he asked. Robby furrowed his brows at him in confusion but didn’t argue, trotting off to grab the planks.

 “What are you thinking?” Daniel asked, stepping closer to him, close enough that Johnny could smell that he was wearing sunscreen. He was reminded, again, of their plans to be at the beach.

 “If we can use those rocks and the planks to get the statue just a few inches off the ground, we can probably get it the rest of the way ourselves,” Johnny said. “I had to do this at a landscaping job I did about ten years ago. Some rich Encino broad –” he caught Sam’s close gaze out of the corner of his eye. “Some rich Encino…woman…insisted that she wanted slabs of marble sticking out of her garden in the back yard, and one of them fell over. I was the only one there, so I had to get creative to get it back up.”

 “You did a landscaping job?” Daniel asked as Johnny passed him a plank.

 “You’re the white-collar guy here, LaRusso,” Johnny remarked, shoving the plank under the statue. “Not me.”

 Daniel didn’t answer him, but mirrored his movements, setting his own plank underneath the statue and looking to Johnny for his cue.

 The statue was heavier than he expected, but after a few seconds of struggling, it started to lift off the grass. Daniel huffed a surprised scoff, too out of breath to do anything else, and Johnny grinned at him.

 Robby and Sam slipped in and took hold of the statue, Johnny and Daniel following, and after some clumsy struggling, the statue was upright again and looking as sturdy against the fence as it had before. The kids cheered, high-fiving first each other, and then their fathers.

 “Alright, you two, why don’t you go cool off in the shade and drink some more water?” Daniel said, his eyes landing only momentarily on Johnny. They obliged without argument, trudging off toward the house with heavy feet.

 Johnny could feel Daniel’s eyes on him in the wake of the kids’ absence. He turned away from him and surveyed the garden, far more tranquil than it had been when he arrived. He could hear the running water and the deep sound of the wood chimes that he’d heard when Robby called.

 He could understand, in quiet moments like this, why Daniel was so protective of this place.

 “I want you to try something,” Daniel’s voice broke through his reverie. Johnny turned to see him, a smile just barely quirking his lips upward, his hair tousled and messy from the wind and the work. The sun was starting to sink behind him, leaving gold behind in strands of his hair, his skin supple and dark in the sunlight.

 “Is this when you tell me you have weed?” Johnny replied.

 Daniel rolled his eyes and led Johnny to the edge of a pond where a round platform floated in the middle.

 “Torture device?” Johnny asked.

 “Get in the pond, Johnny,” Daniel said, toeing off his own shoes at the edge.

 “Are there fish in there?” Johnny asked, peering in.

 “There aren’t fish in there,” Daniel laughed.

 “Are you sure –?”

 Before he could finish, Daniel had grabbed him around the middle and pulled him into the pond with him. The water was ice cold when he went in, so cold he felt the shock ricochet through his body. And then he felt Daniel’s arms around his middle, just barely releasing so they could find the surface safely, and the cold didn’t matter.

 He broke the surface, spluttering, and found Daniel grinning at him, trying to hold back his laughter. He launched himself in Daniel’s direction, catching him around the shoulders and shoving him into the water, yanking him back up only a moment later, hand tight around Daniel’s upper arm.

 “You don’t want to play that game with me,” Daniel said warningly, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, grinning like a fool. “I’ve been almost drowning my cousins since I lived in Newark.”

 “I grew up in the ocean, LaRusso, a body of water intent on drowning you without any help,” Johnny retorted, still holding tight to Daniel’s arm. “I think I can handle you.”

 Daniel raised his eyebrows at him, and before Johnny could think of another witty retort, Daniel’s leg was snaking around his and yanking his feet out from under him, sending them both below the surface of the water.

 Beneath the surface, Johnny could see the stones on the bottom of the pond, recently scraped clean of algae, if the little green spots in the cracks of the rocks were any indication. Daniel, beside him, was untangling himself from Johnny’s legs, swimming toward the surface again. Deftly, without any struggle, Johnny waited until he broke the surface, gave him time to take a breath, and wrapped his legs around Daniel’s waist, pulling him back down below again.

 Daniel glared at him, his eyes almost black under the water, and pushed them both to the surface.

 “Okay, okay, time out, we’re actually going to drown each other,” Daniel said, one arm sliding around the small of Johnny’s back to hold him up in the water.

 It wasn’t until Daniel’s hand settled on his hip that Johnny realized he still had his legs hooked around Daniel’s waist. He just assumed Daniel would break free of the hold when he made his way to the surface.

 His surprise must have shown on his face because he could both hear and feel Daniel chuckle.

 “Thank you,” he said, and if Johnny hadn’t been so close, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. “For today.”

 Johnny didn’t know what to say. Brushing off Daniel’s thanks would feel like he was cheapening what they had accomplished today, which, based on their track record of working together, was unheard of. But he didn’t really feel like what he did required thanks when really all he wanted was to prove to Daniel he hadn’t trashed the dojo.

 And then he remembered one of the love languages that Miguel told him about.

 Acts of service.

 Perhaps this was the one that would work.

 He watched, as if in slow motion, Daniel’s gaze drop to his lips. There was still water running down his face, settling at the point of his chin, dripping in the silence, harmonizing with the chimes at the back door to the house. He could lean in – he moved to unhook his legs from around Daniel’s waist, but Daniel’s arm around him tightened and stilled his movement.

 “Tighten your legs,” Daniel said quietly, the same words Johnny said to him last week, and Johnny’s gaze snapped up to his eyes, deep, soulful brown in the shade, eyelashes still wet.

 He could lean in – he watched Daniel lick his lips and reached up to grab onto the side of the pond, steadying them both against the side. He leaned in, just a fraction –

 “Dad –”

 Immediately, Johnny released Daniel’s waist and moved away, far enough that he bumped against the platform floating in the pond.

 Daniel’s eyes were still on him, dark and unreadable. “Yes, Sam?”

 “Sensei Kreese is here.”

[peeterparkr]

limits of desire⤳t.h.||8

chapter 8: buy your wedding dress

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary:the one when the wrong choice maybe is the right one

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing,miguel, lizzie being lizzie , didn’t proof read, wedding dresses, lizzie again 

word count: 5.4k

previous chapter

next chapter 

series masterlist

wanna be tagged?

If we speak in correct terms, using dictionaries and other sensible things, we would reach the following conclusion, jealousy means: feeling or showing envy of someone or their achievements and advantages.

Let's put Tom in that equation, he was a) feeling it and b) showing envy of what Miguel had achieved.

Yes, we can conclude that Tom was jealous. More than jealous. He felt that at any moment he was going to explode.

Y/N and Miguel were kissing at the airport entrance. Tom was frowning as he tried not to stare. He clenched his jaw as he drummed his fingers against the wheel. Anna, y/n’s mom, was in the back of the car, along with Lizzie. 

“They’re adorable,” Anna commented. 

No, they were gross, thought Tom. 

“He’s super dreamy,” Lizzie admitted. “Ain’t he, Tom? Or are you breaking any rules by saying that?”

Tom rolled his eyes and glared at her through the mirror, while Lizzie showed him a smirk. 

“Oh my god, she’s seeing him in two weeks, please,” Tom murmured as the couple kept devouring each other. Tom wrinkled his face and stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Besides, who comes to London only for two days?” 

Even if he were in that place, he wouldn’t be eating her like that. Not on public at least. And he would be gentle. For once in his life. Of course, he’d show her whatever she wanted him to show her. Not that that mattered, but at least, he knew he would. Her lips were like rose petals, delicate and pink. 

“Please, you’d be the same if you were dating anyone,” Lizzie laughed at her comment. “Ha, as if you could date anyone, right?” 

Tom turned his head and glared at her. “Wouldn’t you love that.” 

Anna was laughing. “Okay, c’mon.”

Tom smiled at Anna and chuckled dryly. “Seriously, Miss Y/L/N, sorry-sorry, Anna,” Tom laughed. “Your daughter has been there kissing him for about 15 minutes, he’s got a plane to catch, doesn’t he?” 

Anna laughed and nodded. “Yes, he does,” she agreed as she rolled down her window. “Y/N, sweetheart, you’ve got your appointment and he’s got a plane, hurry my dear!” 

y/n stopped kissing Miguel and turned to her mother with utter embarrassment, as her fiancé chuckled against her forehead. 

“I love you,” Miguel said, with a gentle voice. 

Tom turned around to rub his face with stress. 

“I love you more, amor mío,” Y/N said, giving him one last kiss. “My fiance!” She chirped and kissed him again before walking back to the car. He blew her a kiss, waving goodbye before walking in to the airport. 

y/n coughed jumping into the car, coughing awkwardly. She had the brightest smile on her face and her rosy cheeks were proving her to be just as happy. She cleared her throat. “So,” she buckled up, as she giggled. “Let’s go… We have a dress fitting…” Everybody was quiet. “Uh, does anybody have chapstick? Chapstick? Thanks, Tom,” she said as Tom handed it over. “So, well, call Hannah and Jess, tell them we’ll see them there.

Anna smiled. “Yes, darling, and your grandma will also be there.” 

“Why-why do I have to go, again?” Tom asked, as he started the car. A part of him wasn’t sure that he wanted to see her trying on a dress in which she wouldn’t be marrying him with. He didn’t want to do anything to do with this wedding, except of course, stopping it. 

“You’re the Maid of honour,” y/n reminded him. “And please, it’ll be like we always do, like when we go shopping. You’ve got good taste.” 

“He is scared of breaking any rules,” Lizzie snickered. 

“You shouldn’t be going either, Liz, are you sure you’re not getting your hopes up just by  being with me  on the car?” Tom snapped back. 

Liz was about to yell, but y/n shushed them angrily. “Guys, please, please, not today, okay? Behave! I want…. I want to be happy today, please?” 

Tom and Lizzie frowned but nodded. 

“Sorry,” Tom apologized to y/n. “And  sorry Anna, because Lizzie here doesn’t know how to behave.”

Lizzie glared, but y/n chuckled, rolling her eyes. It was going to be a long day. 

“Hey, have you got plans tomorrow?” Y/N asked Tom. 

“No, why?” Tom glanced over at her, she was biting her lip and playing with her fingers. 

“I’ll…. Tell you later,” she said before looking away. 

__

Hannah, Jess and Lizzie couldn’t just shut up. They had met y/n’s grandma’s there as well, they had arrived just in time for the dress fitting. 

Tom walked through the bridal shop and stared at the different white dresses. He didn’t quite understand how it worked, she’d needed to try on thousands of them. 

Y/N was talking to another woman and looked so radiant while doing so, her smile was delicate and strong while she just stared at the different dresses. She was explaining to her the idea of her ideal dress. 

With any dress, she’d look beautiful, Tom knew that. It didn’t matter what kind of dress she could choose. 

Tom had done some research on dresses, from heart shaped, mermaid, trumpet, a-line.  But he barely had any idea of it, he had always avoided all subjects of marriage. But he had always listened. He knew everything that y/n wanted for her wedding, from the flowers to her dress. Princess like. 

“Like Cinderella at the ball.” 

That was what she had always wanted. 

He walked through the white gowns as he had his eyes fixed on y/n. She turned to him and dedicated him a small, insecure smile. 

Suddenly, her friends tormented her and all showed her dresses they wanted. Tom watched how y/n just took a step back. She was overwhelmed with the attention. 

Tom received a call. 

“What up, Haz?” He answered with trouble. 

“How’s the dress fitting going?” Haz asked. 

“Well, no dresses yet, I’m… honestly, man, I can’t see her trying on dresses to marry someone else,” Tom admitted. “I want to leave.” 

“No, no, here’s the plan buddy, you show her your support, everything she wants you have to say yes, but try and show her you’re the one who knows her, you are the one who supports her. Show her some dresses.” 

“I can’t support a wedding I don’t agree with,” Tom snapped. 

“Then make her see this is all bullshit!” 

“Gosh, she was basically eating him when we left him at the airport, bloody Mr. Perfect,” Tom said with disgust, as y/n waved at him to come over. “She looks so pretty.” 

“Tom, focus, we’ve got a wedding to ruin, man,” Haz reminded him. “Now, so, she told me she wanted to learn how to dance before going to Mexico, and she booked lessons and they start tomorrow, she asked me to go with her, but there’s that plan, I told her you should be her partner.”

Tom stared at y/n and grinned. Dancing, that was one of his strengths. “Right, so I’ll have to be her partner.” 

“I’m glad you can use those brain cells to think,” Haz laughed. “So, we’re gonna steal the bride.” 

“We’re gonna steal the bride,” Tom repeated with a smirk, y/n was going to approach him. Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, so, I’ll clean up my mess Haz, I’m not that terrible of a roommate.” 

“Wha-?” 

“Bye, Haz!” Tom hung up the phone and smiled at Y/N. “Hey,” he smirked. 

“Hey, so… Okay, come over, I need your help.” She asked him. “You were… speaking to Haz?” 

Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, I left some… underwear on the coach,” Tom lied with a smile. Y/N wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes with a snicker.

“Please, come, I need some reason before they all attack me,” Y/N begged. 

“Ah, but I know shit about wedding dresses,” Tom laughed as he pulled back some of her hair off her face, making her blush. “I just know you’ll look beautiful anyway.” 

“But you’re always my shopping buddy so I need you,” Y/N said, blushing. “And besides I know you won’t be biased by how you want your wife to be dressed as, honestly, they’re all trying to make me wear their ideal wedding dress, but you don’t believe in marriage, so it’s fine! You’ll help me choose with an objective point of view.” 

Tom felt like he had just been stabbed right on his heart, as he stared at her. 

“Who says I don’t believe in marriage?” He asked with a gentle voice, as he caressed her cheek, she cleared her throat and stepped back. 

“You did, silly,” She coughed. “Now, please, just…” 

She took him by his hand and dragged him over, to the wedding planner, the saleswoman and all her friends. 

“Oh, brides usually don’t bring along the groom,” The saleswoman commented. Tom smirked, and Y/N burst out in laughter, with her face as red as the lipstick she was wearing. 

“He’s not my boy-bride-groom...fiancé, he’s my maid of honour,” she said embarrassed, to which the lady apologised. 

They offered them all Bellini’s, to which everyone accepted, and Tom ordered just plain champagne. He wasn’t ready to see her walking out in a white dress. It wasn’t going to be easy, after all, because he was not the groom. And besides, he didn’t like the concept of marrying. Of course, his parents had had a successful marriage but he had learned about many which hadn’t been that successful. He didn’t want to share his luck. Sure, he wanted a relationship with y/n, especially now. But he didn’t know how further he could take it. 

“Which ones did she choose?” Hannah asked. “Ugh, I can’t wait to see her.” 

“Hope she wears the one I chose,” Lizzie commented. “She’ll look pretty in that one.” 

“She’ll look beautiful anyway,” Tom commented. Anna smiled at him as she nudged her mother. Y/N’s grandmother was the most excited to be there. 

“Can you believe she’s getting married?” Hannah asked. “Gosh, and she seems to be all over the moon.” 

“You know, we can’t blame her, if she loved the wrong one with such passion, I can only imagine how she’s loving the right one,” Lizzie pointed out. 

Tom glared at her. 

“And how are we sure he’s the one?” Tom cleared his throat. 

“Maybe you don’t believe in it, Tom,” Lizzie frowned. “But he is.”

“And you’re one to know about finding the one, huh?” Tom frowned. 

“And you? You’re one to talk, too,” Lizzie said. “Aren’t you happy for her?” 

Tom had to stop. He looked down. “I—of course, all I want in life is for y/n to be loved, and happy.” 

And he meant it. He wanted her to be the happiest she’d ever been, and he wanted her to be loved forever. And he was going to prove that to her. 

But he guessed that he had to accept the fact that if she was happier with Miguel, then he’d back away. He needed to be certain that she loved Miguel more than she could ever love Tom. Tom needed to be certain that Miguel was going to love her more than Tom ever could. But he was certain that Miguel simply couldn’t love her even just a third part of what Tom loved y/n. 

Because Tom was willing to leave everything for y/n. His life, his dreams. She was his dream. And he was also willing to sacrifice his love for her if it meant y/n would be better. That didn’t mean, however that he wouldn’t fight for her. He sensed it in his heart, that they belonged together. 

Maybe Tom didn’t really believe in soulmates, but if there was something even remotely close to it, he knew y/n was his. 

They kept chatting between them and Tom was walking behind their chairs. He was staring down at the floor, staring at his shoes. Mentally preparing himself to see her. 

Tom kept wondering about it, how much it would hurt to sacrifice his dreams for her, or sacrifice his love for her happiness. He’d have to turn around, with the sun. 

He needed a kiss. He knew that a kiss would prove to her just how much they belonged together, how synchronized their hearts were. How linked their souls were, how with each smile their hearts would leap in a whirl. 

However, he also knew he had to get back to his senses. Wishing only wounds hearts. Maybe he was dreaming it too much. And maybe he wasn’t supposed to be wishing it. 

The chatting suddenly  stopped, and Tom just lifted his head to realize that even if he had prepared for seeing this for years, he wouldn’t still be ready. 

He saw her with a beautiful white gown that circled her body perfectly, she looked like a princess, it just was the match for her. He stared at her with awe, and his jaw dropped. He felt his heart wanting to jump out of his chest. And suddenly, Tom wasn’t as scared of weddings as he had been before. He suddenly wished to be the groom with a tux, waiting for her to walk down the aisle with the beautiful ballgown she was wearing. He saw it. He saw the complete scene. Music playing in the background, him taking a deep breath as she would stare at him. Maybe he’d shed a tear, for the drama. He saw the people smiling at him, and he saw her mother walking her down the aisle. 

And he knew that she was his dream, that it made sense to be in love with her. He was certain that he needed to fight for it. 

She gulped as she smiled. She shyly walked to the mirrors, and her mother shed a few tears. Hannah chipped and awed. 

Y/N walked to the pallet and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Oh my god.” 

Tom felt the sweat across his face, as he tried to gain back his composure. His mouth was still open. 

Y/N turned around with a smile. “So?” 

“Wow,” he muttered. He blinked and shook his head back into reality. 

“Hmm, nope, not the one,” Liz was the first to talk. Tom glared at her. 

“What?” Tom asked. “Are you bloody mental? She looks perfect!” 

Hannah chuckled. “She does, but…” 

Y/N pursed her lips. “Yeah, I’m not convinced either, but hey, it’s a good start, huh? Gets me in the mood,” Y/N agreed with her friends. Tom grimaced. He didn’t understand what was wrong with the dress. 

“I can’t believe my granddaughter is getting married,” her grandma said. 

“Aww, nana,” y/n smiled, bringing her hands to her heart.

“I always thought you’d marry…” And Nanna didn’t finish her sentence, but everyone was staring at Tom. He cleared his throat as he drank from his glass. 

“So, okay, I’ll keep on trying on some others,” Y/N said. She glanced over at Tom. 

Tom didn’t know how many dresses she tried, but he loved them all. Every time he saw her stepping out with a new dress he had to take a moment to breathe. Every time she stepped out, Tom added a flower, or a new guest to the imaginary wedding he was playing on his head. 

But it became… boring, or tiring for a while because none of the dresses were suiting or pretty or not big or whatever the girls were making excuses out of it. They’d give out a “yes but…” 

“Maybe try a pink one.” 

“Maybe a mermaid tail.” 

“A short dress, maybe?” 

“Try it without the veil.” 

And y/n was just losing it. She wasn’t even enjoying it anymore. Tom saw it. Her eyes getting teary. But she took a deep breath and smiled at her friends and family. 

She walked back into her dressing room and Tom followed after. 

The saleswoman tried to stop him but Tom shook his head, raising his hand. 

“Hey, y/n…” 

She didn’t answer. The saleswoman tried to stop him but Tom shook his head. 

“Y/N?” 

He heard her take a deep breath. “Yeah?” 

“Can I come in?” He asked. “Are you okay?”

“I—yeah, I’m okay—I”

“Y/N?” 

Tom sighed, the door was slightly open. He opened it slowly to reveal a y/n, on the floor hugging her knees. She was crying. 

Tom sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her, she leaned against him. She curled up to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assured her. 

She bit her lip. “It’s just too overwhelming.” 

Tom looked at her. “Hey, no, it’s just another dress,” he reminded her. 

She frowned. “No, it’s not.” 

Tom closed his eyes. “I don’t mean it that way, what I mean,—“

“What you mean is that you don’t care about this.” 

“I care more than you think.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You haven’t said anything about any dress.” 

Tom sighed. “I know.” 

“And I know you don’t care for weddings—“

“I care about you, y/n,” Tom said, seriously. He had turned stiff. “And I care so much.” 

Y/N shrugged. “You don’t understand this.”

“What I understand is that you’ve walked out with a bunch of dresses that you didn’t choose yourself,” Tom reminded her. “You’ve looked beautiful in every single one of them, but I know that none of them are you.” 

“They chose them for me.” 

“but don’t listen to them, this is for you, alright?” 

“They don’t like any.” 

“Why do they have to have a saying? it’s you, your day, and you will look beautiful no matter what, you could dress with a white hoodie on your wedding day and you’d still look perfect.” 

Y/n looked up. “Tom.” 

“I’m serious, everything you’ve walked out with is perfect,” Tom said. “You’re breathtaking, y/n.” 

Y/n sighed. “Can I do this?” 

“Are you having second thoughts?” Tom asked with hope. 

Y/n looked down. “I—“

And even if Tom wanted to make her think straight so he could get her to not marry the douchebag, he knew that his friend would rather appreciate his support. 

“Y/N, you don’t have to please anyone,” Tom reminded her. “This is you, this has to be for you. And I know this is too hard for you because you keep doing what everyone expects you to do,” Tom said. “And trust me, no matter what you do, you’re still going to excel at it, just like you did with the dresses, but if you want to look perfect with your dress,” Tom continued. “You have to choose it yourself.” 

“I—“

“I know you enough to know you wanted to look like Cinderella,” he reminded her. “But it won’t matter unless you’re a hundred per cent sure.” 

Y/N looked him in the eyes. “Tom—“

“Actually, you know what? In the end, y/n, the dress doesn’t matter,” Tom explained. 

Y/n frowned. “Tom I don’t need you telling me that you don’t believe in weddings.” 

“I want you to think about it, close your eyes,” he said as he placed his fingers on her temples. She frowned but did as told. “Imagine this… you’re getting ready, you have your red lipstick on, your mother is gently arranging some loose strays of hair and you’re breathing in and out.” 

Y/N nodded as she listened, relaxing against his touch. 

“Someone walks in, hands you your flowers, which on the last moment were changed,” he continued as she frowned. 

“But why—“

“Listen, y/n, they apologize for the inconvenience of the flowers, but says the words, ‘it’s time’…and you’re holding your flowers tightly, you’re angry because your hair is probably not fixed enough,” he continued. “And suddenly the music starts, and it probably sounds awfully—“

“Tom, why are you—“

“Sh, sh, and they open the door, you’re walking out with that gown you chose, that maybe wasn’t the one you wanted but you kept listening to your friends.” 

“I don’t—“

“Sh—but it doesn’t matter, or does it? Because you’re walking in to be received by…” Tom gulped. “By him, the love of your life, not just any other guy you met, it’s him, he who doesn’t care about what dress you chose, he who doesn’t know a thing about flowers, and in all honestly couldn’t care less. He who knows what you’re thinking before your thoughts even come to your mind. He who is the answer to all of your questions. Does it matter?” 

Y/N stayed quiet. 

“Because maybe you’ve been planning this day all your life, y/n, and it probably will be ruined a million times, what Can go wrong, will go wrong, but it won’t matter because he loves you, blue or red flowers, good music or bad music, this dress or the other one. Because he sees the you inside of you and he couldn’t be happier, and you know you couldn’t be luckier. And he says it: I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, and you believe him, because you couldn’t imagine your life without him.” 

Y/N opened her eyes, slowly. She turned to look directly into his eyes, venturing through them. He sensed that he had just planted a thought on her. 

“And then you realize that it never mattered. Because you knew how the right person makes everything else perfect,” Tom whispered. 

Y/N gulped. She fidgeted with the veil that was on top of her head. “Thank you.” 

“Now I need you to smile, alright? The world needs your smile right now, I need it, okay? And I want you to walk out in a dress where you see yourself marrying the love of your life, alright?” 

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 

Tom stood up and helped her up. She immediately pulled him into a hug. Tom held her tight. He knew it, before everything. He was her best friend and at that moment she needed him as a best friend. Not as the guy who was deeply in love with her 

But he loved her. He knew that he was supposed to be the person that after everything, makes everything feel alright. No matter how many things could go wrong, he knew that y/n would make it turn out right. 

“I do believe in marriage, y/n,” he whispered. “I do believe in someone special who makes everything turn la vie en rose.” 

Y/N gulped. 

“Does he make you feel that way?” Asked Tom. “Does he turn everything right even when it’s wrong?” 

Y/N didn’t answer, she just stared at him. 

“Think about it, y/n, maybe you’re just trying to blame it on the dress,” Tom said condescendingly. 

Y/N frowned. “What? No, no! He is… He is the right choice.” 

Tom sighed. “Then you shouldn’t have any problem with the dress.” 

Y/N let him go. “Right, right.” 

Tom walked out, as the saleswoman made her way back into her dressing room. Y/N gave one last stare at him before telling her the exact dress she wanted. 

“Is she okay?” Asked Lizzie as soon as Tom stepped back into the room. 

“I’m going to ask you all a favour,” Tom started. 

“What can you--”

“Liz, can you please? For y/n? For the first time ever, this isn’t about you,” Tom said. 

“And not about you, either,” Liz added. 

Tom didn’t even glare at her. “We have y/n back in there,” Tom explained. “Tears in her eyes,” Tom said, making Hannah, Jess and Lizzie all gasp. “I understand that she wanted to feel like Cinderella, but you girls don’t have to be her bloody stepsisters tearing her apart, ‘right?” 

The three friends look down ashamed. With the little hope was having he stared at them. 

“He’s right,” Anna agreed. “Y/N hasn’t smiled the way she should, and it’s her wedding dress, for God’s sake, she should be feeling perfect!” 

“Yes,” Tom added. “And please show some support for the next dress, even if you don’t like it, it’s… her happiness before everything, alright?”

They all agreed. Tom guessed he was telling that to himself, too. That whatever happened, it was bigger to see her happy. 

Y/N walked out, unsteady and insecure with each step. But it seemed different this time, because right now she looked radiant. Uneasy, but happy. They all had to stop what they were doing to take in all of her brightness. It was perfect, no flaws. Y/N looked down with a sublime smile, and as she walked closer the light hit her in the perfect spot, as if their whole surrounding had darkened just to get her her own spotlight. Even other people from the bridal shop had to stop to look at her. The wedding dress was simply perfect. It was a princess cut, big dress cascading down, with a heart-shaped neckline, that sparkled around her skin as if she was just covered with a magical fabric, that was loosely but brightly shining over her neck. Stars were gleaming on her. Diamonds. 

Tom had to sit down, as he tried to breathe again. He looked at her with wonder and excitement and awe. It was made for her. 

And suddenly, even if Tom hadn’t asked her friends to support her, he knew they would’ve. There was no way that they wouldn’t have loved it because it was made for her. 

Tom blacked out, in a certain way. Because he didn’t listen to all the compliments, the tears, or the clapping, He only stared at her. It was her and only her. Nothing else mattered. 

He didn’t know when he came back to reality, and he wasn’t sure what face he was making. 

“Do you… do you like it?” Y/N asked him. 

Tom shook his head and blinked. “Wha--?” Tom gulped. “Yeah, yeah, you...look perfect,” he whispered. He didn’t have any words, or not any that he could say out loud. He wanted her more than want, he loved her more than love. And he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

Y/N blushed as she looked down. She took a deep breath as she stared at herself. “I… I think this is the one.” 

“Does this matter, y/n?” Lizzie asked with sadness. “I mean, you look beautiful….But.” 

Hannah stepped in. “Weren’t you going to wear his mom’s dress?” 

They all stayed quiet. Y/N didn’t answer. 

And it turned blue. All the splendour and joy the dress had brought was gone. Y/N just smiled sadly. 

“I… well, it’s good to dream, isn’t it? Maybe I can…” She looked down. “I can convince them so I can wear this one.” 

-----

Y/N ended up with Tom. She had asked him to drive wherever. Tom was driving to the bakery. Whenever they were happy, whenever they were sad, whenever they had an argument or whenever they needed to celebrate. The bakery was their own little corner. 

She had been quiet, and Tom needed she had to be quiet. She was processing everything. 

“Aren’t you…. Aren’t you going to say anything?” She finally asked. 

Tom eyed her. “You want me to say something?” 

“I… I dunno,” she gulped. “You’re always saying something… And lately, you haven’t.” 

Tom gulped. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.” 

“I… what did you really think about the dress?” She turned to him. 

Tom shrugged. “You want me to say what I really think? Or you want me to say what you need to hear?” 

Y/N frowned. “Where’s all that honesty?” 

Tom shrugged. 

“You’re always honest, Tom,” Y/N added. “Who’s this new Tom Holland?” 

Tom shrugged. He parked. “One that’s had many realizations.” 

Y/N grinned as she looked up at the bakery. “Gosh, haven’t been here in ages,” she chuckled. Tom watched her with a big smile.

The bakery was rather alone, they sat down and stared at the menu.  “ I want to taste everything.” 

Tom chuckled. “But I think I know just the thing for you, you need to try the new Strawberry rhubarb tart,” 

Y/N chuckled and blinked. “How did you know--I was--?” 

Tom smirked. “I know you, y/n, it’s like you’ve forgotten everything we are, and everything we will be.” 

 Y/N chuckled. “Time away changes us,” she reminded him. “But hey, I know just what you want,” she grinned. “Crown… apple fudge brownies!” 

Tom laughed. “You know, I actually realized something.” 

“What?” She blinked. 

“I think we don’t exactly guess what the other wants,” Tom admitted. 

She gasped. “How could you--!” 

“No, no, hear me out, I think we just order whatever we secretly want to try,” Tom grinned. 

Y/N bit her lip, giggling to herself. “Nah, I’d like to keep the idea that we know each other that well.” 

“That sounds better, doesn’t it?” He grinned. “Reading each other minds. Knowing our thoughts before we even think of them.” 

Y/N gulped.  “Right.”

Tom watched her. The waitress arrived just in time. They ordered for each other. And their respective tea and coffee, with cream. 

“I missed this,” Tom admitted. 

Y/N smiled sadly. “I will miss this,” she muttered. 

Tom frowned. “Hey, I’ll be around,” he chuckled. “If you let me, of course.” 

She gulped. “Tom, It’s complicated…” 

Tom sighed. “Do you really want me to tell you my thoughts on today?” 

Y/N nodded. “Yes, that’s the least you could do.” 

Tom took a deep breath. This was a chance, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. 

“Most of them were awful,” he said. “Some of them were tacky, especially Lizzie’s choices,” Tom wrinkled his nose, making y/n laugh. “But you somehow made it perfect, no matter how ugly the dress was, you looked stunning, breathtaking, beautiful,” he continued. “But your friends… your friends were awful,” Tom whispered. “But… that just… That one last dress,” he threw his head back. “Y/N, I’ve never been more honest, you looked perfect, the moment you walked out of that dressing room, I… I lost it, y/n,” he looked into her eyes and reached for her hand. “Like an angel, like...it was perfect. You need to wear that dress, not any other.” 

Y/N had to pause, he squeezed her hand. It was as if she didn’t want to listen to him, because she knew he was right. 

“But you said it doesn’t matter,” y/n reminded him. 

“Yet it does,” Tom muttered. 

The waitress placed their desserts in front of them. Y/N let his hand go. Tom wanted to make it clear, Y/N had made a big mistake. 

They remained slightly quiet for the rest of their meal, sharing their desserts. 

Tom didn’t know how it had gone, honestly. They ended up tired, plopped on his couch, with her complaining about the cold weather. They were back at his place, as Tom was completely defeated. 

Y/N had started rambling for about 20 minutes, and started walking around the sofa, Tom didn’t say anything but he was missing her warm body so he just stared at her and listened. She was talking, and talking and talking about how awful the day had gone, and how she couldn’t stand Lizzie, Hannah and Jess right now. The day was supposed to be happy, and they had just made it the worst. She then talked about the many things she had to get done before leaving to Mexico, how she had a lot to plan and barely had any time. 

“Y/N, things will become better,” Tom interrupted her rambling. She stopped and chuckled. 

“Thanks. Thanks, Tom, I… sorry, this is just… overwhelming,” she apologized. stayed quiet and spent the night listening to her. 

They were catching up, playing games, drinking some beers. Just Tom and y/n happy again. She didn’t leave for the night, she had fallen asleep on Tom’s arms on the couch as they ended up watching Notting Hill, and Tom couldn’t help but think and imagine that if only he could wake up this way this morning. 3 words so easy to write, so easy to think, so hurting to feel, and damn, so damn difficult to say. 

previous chapter next chapter

series masterlist

wanna be tagged?

tag list   @clairesrainbow  @desirableprey @fairydustparker @newlove-neweverything @ymeradonnadx @underoosmarvel @tomhollandlovebot @its-the-unknownspidey @savethebabyseals @hermionedeservesbetterthanron @tomhaz @wronglanemendes  @itsvianny   @jake-and-amy-are-married @starlightfound @tiredfeels @thespiderdweeb  @kill-the-stereo @thequeensardine @originalpinkpowerranger @spidxrparkxr @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @organicpurplepants @happywolves81  @nedthegay @skylar-mendes  @emma-worthington @redwhitenbucky @cartiertom  @elefthavraam   @sentimentalquackson  @savannah0111 @vibhati123 @imagine-that-100 @lunagreenwood @hollandhearts @bluparis @badhollandfluff @myspideysensesrtingling @spidermansmj14 @soccerstud004 @marinaabernardii @applenter @silver-winter-wolf    @dark-infernal-instruments @claredolphinbear24 @bookgirlunicorn  @tomshufflepuff @avengersgirllorianna @alwaysbenhardysgirl @saintlavrents @herofiennestiffinashardinscott.  @almostrosadiazz @tonystark-mcu @tomzfrog @tohollandback @morganhoran1671 @awkwardfangirl2014 @spideysimpossiblegirl  @everythingbooknerd  @xapham @parkerswebhead @afilmbypeterparkr @xxtomxo @gioandreolli @tomhollandisagod @danicarosaline @laurfangirl424 @vintageroses1014516 @cinnamon-roll-peter   @the-lost-fairy-tale @lala-florez @fufaation15 @healthyassdonut    @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo @socorroann @muffinmari25   @cassindeansass  @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious @southsidespidey @nathaliabakes​ @hollandslut​ @marvelstuck​ @embrace-themagic​ @bradfordbantams​ @sanniegirl1214 @gioandreolli  @peterpandco​ @fairytaleparker​ @underooling​ @griff1ndor​ @chubby-cheek-calum​ @thatweirdomimic​ @avengersgirllorianna​ @reginalaufeyson-holmes​ @better-daisy​ @yeahimcrying​ @allmonstersxarehuman​ @spider-manholland​ @clairesrainbow​ @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes​ @kissingtrutharchives​  @snoopy3000​ @prettymessygurl​ @spideyparkerstark​ @fanfic-4-you​ @lexshead​

[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Day Four

Day Four of the Hello Spring 2020 Writing Prompt Challenge

Characters- Bucky Barnes, Fem! Reader

Prompt- Cocktail

Warnings- A few swear words, nothing too bad, drinking

Wordcount- 911

          Working the weekend shifts at the local bar provided you with the most entertainment. The constant routine of being hit on by drunk men never really bothered you- you could handle yourself just fine- and the regulars you had come to know well made for good conversation over the bartop as your poured drinks, and they poured out their hearts. A drink for a buck, but you traded in something more exclusive, more valuable. You dealt in stories and secrets, exchanged for advice or a listening ear.

           You heard a lot of stories, but the one tale you desperately wanted to know was that of the man sitting at the quieter end of the bar, brown hair hanging to his shoulders, dressed in loose clothes that couldn’t hide his muscled frame, though he tried to look small. He’d been coming for a while, but he didn’t do much talking. Occasionally, you’d seen a cleaner looking blond accompany him, and on one shift a fiery redheaded woman had sat on the stool next to him, but he was normally alone. He had you curious the moment you laid eyes on him- you figured him for a military vet, with those sad eyes, and sensitivity to sudden noises, and how he strategically sat so he was never with open space at his back. You knew the type, and yet, there was something more to him, and that intangible something, chapters or pages of a life you needed to read, that kept you coming back, hoping to get a glimpse behind the handsome man’s walls.

            “Alright, Miguel, I’m cutting you off. Is your husband coming to get you?” You asked one of your regulars, a nice man married to a doctor in town. You’d been slowly watering down his drinks per his reveal that he was trying to quit drinking, and he’d been doing good. “Thanks, Y/N. Dustin is already on his way. Have a good night, mija.” Miguel said with a friendly smile, paying more than was owed, but slipping from his stool before you could properly protest. Someone must’ve let slip that you were saving up for an apartment. You shook your head fondly, and wiped down the counter, setting his glass in the sink, when a low voice caught your attention.

         “That was nice of you.” As you turned, you hid your surprise behind a smile. The mystery man had finally spoken. “He’s a good guy. Can I get you anything?” You asked, subtly giving him an appreciative once over. “You look like a woman of good taste. What’s your recommendation?” The blue-eyed man asked, and you swore he gave you a smirk. “I make a mean cocktail. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You offered. “...Bucky. I’ll take it.” He replied, almost hesitantly. “Comin’ right up, Bucky. Not to pry, but what brings you here?” You asked conversationally, already getting to work on the cocktail. “Good drinks. Nice company.” Bucky said, smiling crookedly when you laughed. “You’re a smooth-talker for a bloke that doesn’t talk much.” You said wryly, raising a brow. “My friends would disagree, but thanks.”

            Conversation with Bucky was surprisingly easy- the man could really lay on the charm, but you didn’t mind, especially because the moment you quipped back with a flirty comment of your own, he became adorably flustered. “What’s your story, Bucky?” You asked, leaning forwards so your elbows rested on the bartop. “Who says I have a story?” Bucky raised a brow, expression made carefully neutral. You snorted, giving him a dubious look. “C’mon, Buck. I’m a bartender. It’s practically in my job description to be a good listener. War vet, right? You’ve got the reflexes.” You guessed, Bucky’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Yeah, actually. It’s a, uh, a pretty long story.” Bucky mumbled, looking down briefly. “That’s the best kind.” You winked. Bucky smiled- a real, genuine smile- but shook his head. “Trust me Doll, you ain’t got the time for this one.” He smirked. “Well, I can’t make you, but I gotta say, you’ve left me intrigued. I’m a sucker for a good story.” You sighed dramatically, telling him you’d be back before going to serve other customers.

           “Y/N?” Bucky asked nervously. “Mhm?” You hummed, looking up briefly from the glass you were polishing. “I gotta be honest, I don’t really like cocktails.” Bucky confessed. “Well damn, shoulda said so. I could’ve gotten you something else. On the house, pick something you want.” You demand, giving him a stern look. Bucky laughed softly, giving you a slight grin. “Thing is, I’ve been coming to this bar for a long time, and I keep meaning to, but I kinda... well, I chicken out. So, my delightful-” Bucky paused to give someone a fierce glare. “Friend decided to force me to get my shit together and just ask you.” He finsihed. “Ask me what?” You demand. “If you’re free sometime, I’d like to buy you a drink. Maybe tell you that long story.” Bucky said quickly. You blinked, before smirking slyly. “It’s a good story?” You asked, raising a brow. “I’d say it ain’t half-bad.” He shrugged. “Deal. One condition-” “Name it.” Bucky said immediately, as you chuckled softly. “No cocktails.” You bargained. Bucky broke into a wide and boyish smile, full of charm and the promise of a little bit of trouble, and you knew you were a goner. “No cocktails.” He echoed.

             It turned out to be a damn good story.

TAGS-

@ibwhellowriting​

[anunvalidcritic]

SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER VERSE

                                                MOVIE REVIEW

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

June 27th, 2019 the year of our Lord (whichever one that may be) I watch a spectacular movie that I can truly say that the awards won were well deserved. Spider-Man was the first superhero I can truly say I looked up too and he’s super duper awesome my dudes. I plan on rewatching the movie again so I can complete this post.

Man, this post is gonna be extremely long but it’s totally worth it!

I FUCKING LOOOVVVEEE THIS INTRO MAAAAAAANNNNN!!

“With great powers come great responsibility” - UNCLE BEN

AHHHHH THEY DID THE SPIDER-MAN 3 DANCE DEAD

YOU’RE MY SUNFLOWER!!!!!!!

The love that his parents give is amazing.

I’m glad to see an ethnic spiderman its dope that he speaks Spanish and English.

I understand that Spider-man is a vigilante

“With accountability comes great accountability“ - JEFFERSON DAVIS

He didn’t have to do MILES like that lol

DEAD THAT CLASS WAS QUIET AF

AYYYEEE THE CITY IS BUMPIN’ TONIGHT!!!!!

LOL MILES needs to get his face off that window.

Ayyee black people really do that stuff with that chill talkin’ being all smooth and shiiii ROFL

OOFFF

AHHH SHIT IT’S GOING DOWN WITH THE GRAFFITI AND THE SPIDER

SPIDER BITE

LMFAO BOOP!

Damn his roommate just loves to study.

That is a lot of sweat tho

“I’M A MAN.“ - MILES

Haircut looks cool though if you ask me.

“EVERYONE KNOWS!” - MILES

“WOAH SHE’S TALL” - MILES

PETER droppin’ bops huh??

OOOO THAT LANDING WAS EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!

That was some freaky shit when that spider glitched though. It kinda turned into a thriller movie for a minute.

DAAAMMMNNN a normal person would be dead

“Stanton Island maybe but not Brooklyn!” - PETER

You better catch him!!!

he better not say you only get one of th…….. AAAHHHHH HE SAID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE FUCKING SAID IT!!!!!!!!!!

PROWLER got a lot of balls flyin’ up on him like that.

WILSON FISK IS TOOOO FUCKIN’ BIG!!!!!!!

Dang, these glitches remind me of when Vanellelope has hers. (I think her name is spelled wrong but it’s whatever at this point.)

You know whenever people make promises they sometimes are hard to keep.

WTF HE’S BLONDE!!!!!!!! WOAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH HELL NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST KILLED… AHHHHHHH

ROFL “Yeah I think it’s a BANKSY.” - BYSTANDER

RIO is the sweetest mom ever.

PETER should not have gone out that way! MAAAAANNNNNN

STAN LEE R.I.P

Boy, you better not jump off that building that black in you bette… LOL, HE TOOK HIS ASS RIGHT BACK DOWN!

damn, he messed up the hard-drive.

Aww, I love that ominous blue and red lighting… good symbolism.

PETER B. PARKER

Spider-Man for the last 22 years

blah blah blah workin’ hard and fallin’ in love

15 years past

buried Aunt May

Split up with MJ

Seahorses mate for life 

“Could you image a seahorse seeing another seahorse… and then making it work.” - PETER B PARKER

pizza is life

YEAH, THAT BLONDE SHIT THREW ME FOR A LOOP TOO!

“Adios” - MILES

DAAAMMMNN he didn’t have to do PETER B like that!

“Looks like a child dressed like spider-man dragging a homeless corpse behind a train.” - POLICE OFFICER

Aye, I fuck with the song that was being played through that guy’s headphones even though I don’t even know what it was. 

“Why is your body another shape” - MILES damn that’s fucked up 

GOOODDDDDAMMMMN THAT GLITCH FUCKED HIM UP!

These fucking sweatpants man

“DON’T PLAY WITH ME.“ - MILES (black people love that line lol)

“You good with that Spider-Man?!“ - MILES

“In my universe, this place closed 6 years ago. I don’t know why.” - PETER B PARKER (Probably because the restaurant has a C rating)

Was lowkey waiting for a roach to crawl across something 

I LOVE THIS SONG!

“Spider-Man doesn’t wear a cape.” - MILES (He doesn’t wear sweatpants either)

How tf did WILSON FISK get his BIG ASS INTO THAT CAR?!?!?!

lol his booty jiggled a bit hehehehehe

hold up this chick sound like Jessie from Toy Story…

WOAH either she a freak or she likes pushing people

“And I for one can’t wait to watch.” - DR. OC (WTF DID SHE JUST SAY!!)

LOL, HE HIT ‘EM WITH THE ‘HEY’.

Aww, they’re having a bonding moment! 

GWEN STAC(E)Y UP IN THIS BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last 2 years

Joined a band

Saved her dad

Couldn’t save her PETER PARKER

Doesn’t do friends to save herself feeling.

Oh, we’re getting a little WILSON FISK flashback.

Damn, why is she driving so fast…

Something like that was bound to happen I’m sorry to say. 

This dude really got some board shoulders.

SPIDER PEOPLE

Why does PETER B PARKER have on two different types of shoes?

BRUH AUNT MAY CAME FOR HIM!

DAAAANNNGG AUNT MAY THUGGIN’ HUH!?!?!?!?!

TRIGGERED

DEAD AUNT MAY has “HELLO MY NAME IS …” cards

“Wherever I go, the wind follows.” - SPIDER-MAN NOIR

BRUH JOHN MAOULNEY

SPIDER-MAN NOIR

Year: 1933 

Job: Private Eye

Likes: Drinking egg creams and fighting Nazis (A LOT)

“Sometimes I let matches burn down to my fingertips just to feel something anything.”

PENI PARKER SPIDER

Year: 3145

Has a psychic link with a spider that lives inside of her father’s robot.

Lost her father

BEST BUDS FOR LIFE

SPIDER-HAM

PETER PORKER

Bitten by a radioactive pig 

Photographer for the Daily Beagle

Usually, when he’s not working like a dog he chasing a story

Likes to frolic and dance while doing it in his pants. 

SAD FACE EMOJI

if stitch had a glitch lol

PETER B PARKER really puttin’ MILES on blast. 

STOP FUCKING CROWDING HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

This movie is back on their spooky ooky shit

Damn only if he knew his uncle was the PROWLER...

LOL, THAT MUSIC!!!!!!!!!

RUN BOY RUN THIS WORLD ISN’T MEAN FOR YOU!

BRUH PENI’S FACE!!!

“This is a pretty hardcore origin story.“ - SPIDER-MAN NOIR

“We don’t pick the ballroom we just dance.” - SPIDER-MAN NOIR

OOOFFF WHEN AUNT MAY SAYS TAKE IT OUTSIDE SHE MEANS IT!

Of course, MILES dad is on the way

OH, SHIT SHOW HIM YOUR FUCKING FACE!!!

OH, FUCK!!!!!!

How the fuck you gonna be flying around without some type of bulletproof vest. DAMN SMH

Man, a kid should not be seeing someone die right in front of them. 

JEFFERSON didn’t deserve to find his brother that way. 

I’m glad they’re having a heart to heart to him. But that room is too small

“MILES the hardest part about this job is that you can’t save everyone“ - SPIDER-HAM

“Do animals talk in this dimension because I don’t want to freak him out.“ - SPIDER-HAM

Let the bodies hit the floor. 

“A leap of faith” - PETER B PARKER

At least his dad came by to speak to him.

He had that boy fucked up again!

AUNT MAY A THUG BRO!!!!

THIS SONG IS GETTIN’ ME HYPED UP AND I’M NOT EVEN IN THE FUCKING MOVIE!

Man them taking the bus is really killin’ me

Bruh the waiter

ROFL

BATTLE ROYALE BABY!!!!

YEAH MILES

“Do you have a problem with cartoons?!?!” - SPIDER-HAM

PENI I’m sorry to say but your BUD FOR LIFE is gone.

MILES is a smooth criminal!!

WILSON FISK BIG MAD!!

I find it so cool that each time they jumped back into the portal it was reflected off of them.

ROFL “That’s all folks” “Is he allowed to say that legally?”

WILSON FISK always tryin’ to hurt somebody damn!

NOBODY TOOK YOUR FUCKING FAMILY BITCH THAT WAS YOU! IF YOU TRULY KNEW YOUR WIFE YOU WOULD’VE KNOWN THAT SHE DIDNT GET JIGGY WITH THAT SHIT PERIOD!

THE SHOULDER TOUCH

MILES did that (with help of course)

C-Mobile = T-Moblie hehehehehehe

BRUH HE DID WILSON FISK DIRTY!!!

MILES MORALES

SPIDER-MAN for 2 days

Finally, finished his essay

Saved a lot of people

Spent time with his father

Got hit by a drone as well

Had a proper meeting with his roommate

Slapped his sticker where his dad won’t find it

Will always remember his friends. 

“Anyone can wear the mask. You can wear the mask. If you didn’t know that before I hope you know that now.“ SPIDER-MAN (MILES)

_________________________________

Y’ALL THERE WAS A GLITCH IN THE SYSTEM! Everything and I mean EVERYTHING! So thankful I was able to salvage a little bit of it back. I really do wish I was able to get what I said at the end because I meant it. :( 

_________________________________

EDIT: I was fast forwarding through the movie to get it off of my “continue watching” list and I discovered something at the end! So I’ll be making a bit of an edit. (This is a reminder that you need to ALWAYS STAY AT THE END OF EVERY MARVEL! (smh I made a rookie mistake))

James Blake has such an amazing voice

MEANWHILE IN NUEVA YORK

“I was gone for less than 2 hours.” - MAN

THE BEST LESS 2 HOURS OF MY LIFE!

oooo the man’s name is MIGUEL 

Earth ‘67

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH THE MEME THE MEME!!!!!!!!!!

“How dare you point at me!” - SPIDER-MAN

[purplesurveys]

458

Did you do anything stupid/anything you regret today? So far, no. I always end up doing something stupid at least once a day so I’m just waiting for that to happen.

Do you trust your doctor? We don’t have a family doctor but I like to think I can trust whichever doctor that winds up giving me a checkup.

Have you ever switched primary care doctors? ^

^If yes, what was the reason?

Do you ever sleep on your bedroom floor just for fun? No, the floor is too hard. Sleeping on the floor is reserved for emotional breakdowns.

What's the last thing you regret spending money on? A really bad bowl of ramen at Podium. Backstory time!!! So I never liked ramen until a few weeks ago, when my uncle brought me to Mendokoro Ramenba, which is the restaurant that people say is the best ramen place in the country. And people weren’t lying, because it really was a fucking good bowl. Made me cry. Anyway, after that, I kinda increasingly had a craving for ramen and tried out a couple of other places that served it. The ones I’ve had so far just reinforced my dislike for ramen, because every other bowl I’ve tasted so far (other than the one my uncle brought me to) was terrible.

So, idk. Either ramen is really just not good–at least for me–or Mendokoro gave me extremely high standards when picking ramen. 

Do you have a youtube channel? I have one but it’s only for subscribing to channels and so that YouTube can personalize my home page according to my interests.

^If so, how many subscribers do you have? 0.

What color are your nails painted currently? If I had a dollar every time this question appeared on a survey...

Are you worried about your current financial situation? HAHAHAHA YES. Internship is DRAINING MY WALLET. I work in Ortigas, which is one of the busiest business districts in the metro. And understandably, they charge for everything. Park for five minutes? Pay up. Wanna use the bathroom? Pay up. Are you just standing aimlessly? Pay the fuck up. The last one was a joke but you get the point. Anyway, so I pay P200-P250 ($4-$5) for parking from M-F and it leaves me with little to no savings at the end of the week. I also had to stop buying food out because I had to resort to getting meals from the house. 

Yesterday I was desperate to reward myself so, with P350 left in my wallet, I bought a burger from my favorite restaurant that costs P350 exactly. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to buy something that wasn’t a parking fee, so I said fuck it. This is the one thing I hate as an unpaid intern and I can’t wait til it’s over.

What was the last thing that made you cry? Gab and I had an honest conversation last night that lasted until 1 AM, and we both cried.

Do you know anyone who's had a stillbirth? I don’t think so, no. 

Who was the last person you know (or that you know of) that died? Kaye’s dad.

What are you looking forward to doing tomorrow? Resting, napping, sleeping. Maybe a little work here and there but I’ll be asleep for the most part.

What store did you shop at last? My girlfriend and I stopped at Filbar’s to look at Funkos and (for her) GoT stuff.

Do you need a new phone? I’m a little materialistic so I’m always wanting a new phone hahaha but no, I really don’t need a new one; my iPhone 8 is working just fine.

What's something you are behind on? SOCIAL LIFE

Name someone who has it worse than you. I don’t like this question :/ It’s a little narcissistic for me.

Do you wish you were rich? Duh, don’t we all.

Do you miss someone who treated you horribly? Nope.

Would you rather get a big tattoo or small tattoo? Small one. I used to think I can handle big tattoos though.

Are there any redheads in your family? We don’t even have brunettes nor blondes. The day we discover a redhead in the family is the day the world ends.

Do you identify as a supernatural being..i.e., unicorn, alien, goddess...?

Do you block a lot of people on Facebook? On Twitter, yes. I’m not into the Facebook culture much so I’ve never felt the need to block someone there.

What's one thing you are tired of seeing or hearing about on Facebook? Fucking Bible quotes. It’s made worse because they’re always used by hypocrites. Motivational quotes with generic graphics are just as bad.

What is a secret you have? Stared at this question for like 7 minutes only to come up with nothing haha. My secrets are either too private or too uninteresting to count as secrets.

Do you wait until the last minute to do laundry? My mom does it every Friday so that she doesn’t get behind.

Do you have any big regrets in life? Not big ones, just mini regrets here and there. And I try not to have them in the first place because I hate being stuck in a place when I could’ve just moved on and accepted my mistakes already.

What color is the sweatshirt you wear the most? Navy blue.

Do you consider yourself athletic? Not really.

What's one thing you are not? Good in calculus.

Has anyone ever bullied you while you were grieving a loss? No, but I’d be so pissed off if that happened. Like I’d have no time feeling victimized – I’d just go right ahead and be furious that someone would do that.

When was the last time you went to the doctor? Three years ago, when my school required me to get scoliosis stuff settled before they admitted me to freshman status.

How many pills do you take every morning? Zero, unless I wake up with a headache in which case I’d take one.

Do you own a designer purse? Yes.

Which twin is your favorite: Niki or Gabi? ?

Do you know anyone who is colorblind? I don’t think so.

Which YouTuber do you feel like you relate to the most? Dan Howell, and how timely considering the video he just put out after more than a year :3

List three people you hope to meet in Heaven. If it ends up being real, I’d like to meet my great-grandfather and my ancestors who founded the province of Bulalacao.

When was the last time you cleaned your room? Last April. I had a lot of time on my hands then. It’s gotten messy again though so I’m itching to clean it up.

Do you have a prayer partner? No.

When was the last time you went to church? Last Sunday. I’m going again tomorrow -.-

Do you know what you're wearing for the 4th of July? I don’t care for another country’s Independence Day. Especially a country that’s bullied my own for decades.

What was the last parade you went to? Last June, when we went to the Pride March.

Have you ever been in a parade, and if yes, doing what? We were...celebrating Pride? 

What is your favorite ride at the fair? I can’t handle a lot of rides, but I do love the octopus. It’s a ride that resembles...well, an octopus, and its arms go up and down and go around fast.

Do you wish you had someone you could trust? I already do.

Do you want a dog that looks like you? I’d rather not have a dog that looks like anyone.

What theme do you want for your wedding? No theme. I just want it to look elegant, classy, and classic.

What theme would you choose for a baby's nursery? I don’t think I’ll know until I’m actually getting a kid. Right now though I’m leaning towards a space/stars theme. Or animals.

What color would you paint a baby girl's nursery? Pastel pink.

Does your first crush know that he/she was your first crush? No. I never told her and I probably never will. It’s just the timing’s been lost forever hahaha.

Do you know your first crush's middle name? Her second name is Louise, but I forgot her maiden name.

What is one thing you are scared of? Setting my kitchen on fire while cooking.

How far away do you live from your favorite park? I live in the Philippines – the government does not give a shit about public places other than malls. We have no parks other than Rizal Park, and that’s 1-1.5 hours away.

What is the last thing you missed out on that you wanted to go to? My org’s alumni homecoming party last February. That day was also mine and Gab’s anniversary. I missed out on both because my dad had booked a trip that weekend.

Do you have a secret nobody knows? Yes.

Who do you wish were your best friend? I already have my two dream best friends.

Who do you wish you could go on another date with?

Name a celebrity who has your natural hair color. Vanessa Hudgens, and that’s because she’s half-Filipino haha.

Which family member did you get your height from? My mom.

What color was the last popsicle you ate? I haven’t had a popsicle in a hot minute. I had a Cornetto yesterday though! It was chocolate flavored, so it was brown.

Do you feel stupid regularly? Of course.

How do you love yourself when you feel stupid? I don’t.

What's a great piece of advice you've heard? Too lazy to rack my head for past advice I’ve heard.

Do you like your butt? Yes. 

What style of wedding dress do you want? I want something Audrey Hepburn would wear and a dress that would suit a small-chested frame.

What does your dream house look like? Minimalist, square-shaped, large windows, predominantly white.

List ten girl's names you love. Olivia, Amelia, Mia, Harper, Isabella, Ava, Scarlett, Charlotte, Elizabeth, Julianna.

List ten boy names you love. James, Jacob, Luca, Julian, Liam, Mason, Miguel, Andres, Luis, Matteo.

Who was the last friend of yours to have a baby, and what's the baby's name? None of my friends have babies but I do have batchmates from my senior class who’ve already had their own. I don’t remember the names but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want it aired out either by their random classmate that owns a secret survey Tumblr blog either.

Are all of your friends having babies right now? I just said none of them are.

Who is the cutest baby you've seen on social media recently? Olivia and Amelia Manzano-Reyes!!! Yeah, the mom basically has the same taste in names as me :/

Do you know anyone who's given birth to twins? I know sets of twins, but I don’t know the moms who birthed them.

What's your biggest regret? I don’t really like dwelling on regrets so I always come up with nothing when asked this.

[themandylion]

[fic] the rarer action is - deleted scenes 2

More deleted scenes. I wrote so many versions of Stephanie’s rescue from the Egyptian? Here’s one from another pov. In this version, Steph is in her Spoiler outfit (because she was in the comic even though it makes no sense because she wasn’t when Selina grabbed her but continuity, what’s that???). Also, ALSO, I totally found a scene that somehow didn’t make it into as strange a maze for some unknown reason that probably made sense to me at the time? Whatever, everyone gets to read everything! \o/ (Lies, no one will ever get to read everything, there are too many notebooks for that.)

An inch more and Steph will have her fingers on the knife secreted away in the lining of her boot. It’s her own fault for taking this long—Oracle tried to convince her to keep it in a hidden pocket on her thigh, or at least wear taller boots, but Steph hadn’t listened, had been sure she’d never need it, would never get caught. Had never expected

Catwoman, of all people.

Steph’s contemplating dislocating her thumb when the door to the vault starts its slow swing open.

“—boots can’t clash with anything—it’s not about the style, it’s about the attitude of the person wearing them. And anyway, it’s not purple,” a familiar, artificial voice drifts through the open door, “it’s aubergine.” A muffled bang punctuates this final statement.

Oracle is tucking a gun into a smart evening bag when she walks in. Steph gives her a hairy eyeball. “Rule One?” Stephanie asks, because as glad as she is to see Oracle, she really doesn’t want to risk being the accessory to a murder.

“Rubber bullets; he’ll have a killer headache, but otherwise he’ll be fine. Nice to see you too, Spoiler.” Oracle is wearing combat boots, a deep purple cocktail dress, and her mask.

“I could have got out on my own,” Stephanie says, a little annoyed. “I have a knife.”

“And I have C-4,” Oracle tells her as she unites the rope around Steph’s wrists and ankles. “So does Flying Fox on the floor above us.”

“You’re going to blow up Catwoman’s vault?!” Steph’s friends are crazy. No wonder her mom wanted to skip town.

Oracle climbs up on the chair Steph was sitting in and starts sticking balls of plastic explosive to the ceiling. “You’ve pissed off people with power. Cluemaster has League assassins after you. We need a quick and quiet exit.”

“Explosions aren’t quiet!” Stephanie hisses, fumbling her mask back into place.

“Bluebird has it under control.” Oracle attaches a wire to the C-4 and pulls Steph back into a corner of the vault. She presses the side of her mask. “B? Maneuver R1—flash and bang, at least five minutes, ten is better. FF, on my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark!”

The explosions aren’t nearly as big as Steph expected, and when the dust clears, there’s a hole in the ceiling just big enough for Oracle and Steph to fit through. A rope falls down from it, followed by Flying Fox’s head.

“Hey, Spoiler. Got your gear here. Ready to blow this joint? O says you get to come home with us, and I’m thinking breakfast for dinner.”

The computer lights up as soon as Tim sets foot in his room on the yacht.

Ok, just so you know I totally didn’t see this coming.

“Um, what?” After spending who knows how long bouncing around the timestream, Tim’s exhausted. It doesn’t help that, because of time shenanigans, less than 72 hours have passed in the “present” while the Titans have been occupied elsewhen. At this point, Tim honestly doesn’t have enough functioning braincells left to deal with Oracle.

The Nightwing thing. Didn’t see it coming, I’m as shocked as you.

Shit, that’s right. Between one thing and another, Nightwing’s capture by the Crime Syndicate totally slipped Tim’s mind. “S’okay. He gets himself in over his head all the time,” Tim says, but already his body is dredging up the last reserves of his adrenaline, encouraging him to kick into high gear, to start panicking.

Ouch. Haven’t talked to the family yet, then, huh?

Already, Tim’s stumbling backwards, trying to find the pieces of the Red Robin suit he just took off. “Oracle, what—what happened with Nightwing?”

If it’s any consolation, the stats are on his side. 100% of all former Robins who died after being fired from Robin turned out to actually be faking their deaths.

This can’t be happening. Dick can’t be dead—he’s the most together of them, the least neurotic. The hero the whole masked community admires, respects. Loves. “No,” Tim says, stopping his mad rush. “You’re wrong. Batman saved him.”

Hey, look, all I know is that there was a bomb, and it was wired to Nightwing’s heart, and he had to die for the bomb to stop.

“Batman would have found a way to save him. Resuscitate him. Batman would never let Nightwing die.” Dick is the best of them, what Bruce keeps trying to replicate with the rest of his Robins. Letting Dick die is the last thing Bruce would ever do.

Look, Red. I know it’s hard to grasp, but according to everyone there, he’s dead. BUT. Like I said–high probability that he’s faking it.

“One nonexistent case does not a trend make,” Tim says, collapsing on his bed. He feels sick and drained, only now it has nothing to do with time shenanigans and everything to do with how his heart hurts so much he’s sure it’s about to just—give up. “Your case study is the nonexistent Robin, right? The girl one.”

Don’t discount my science just because I have no hard evidence to back it up. It’s not on me that someone broke the world. Which, hey, could be your fault, Mr Let’s-Take-A-Jolly-Jaunt-Through-Time. Nevermind timeline integrity.

“Hey, that—It’s not like we did it on purpose,” Tim splutters. After all, if he’d had any choice in the matter, the Titans would’ve all stayed in the present. Yes, it’s nice to finally have an answer for how, out of all the trains and traincars available, Miguel hopped on the same one as Tim last fall. But he’s still not sure if the closing of that particular timeloop was worth the loss of Bart (Bar, a part of Tim hisses, call a murderer by his name) and Kirin.

Yeah, yeah. Still, if the world goes cockeyed again in the next six months, I’m totally holding you responsible, I don’t care if you can’t remember it.

[narcosmx]

narcos mexico headcannon list: giving them oral would include

a/n: tryin out this new thing.... if you like it i’ll continue it ???? and should i do a narcos one too??? thoughts appreciated... couldn’t decide on a single gif so why not these gorgeous fucks anyways... enjoy mi desmadre

amado

oh MAN DOES THIS MAN LIVE FOR A FUCKING BLOWJOB

he’s the one thrusting into your mouth, sorry about it but i don’t make the fucking rules amado fucks your mouth and that’s that 

one hand  around the nape of your neck and the other arm slung over the back of the couch fucing enjoying the view and every now and then he’s bucking his hips forward 

whenever he hears you gag on him, because i reiterate GROWN MAN DICK, he throws back his head in this like growl and thrusts again wow  

when he really feels like being in fucking control he’s standing, one arm propping him up against the wall and the other in your hair still wow 

leaves your throat fucking sore and has you thank him for it F U C K 

miguel

with miguel, blowjobs are like your please for attention

when he’s like brushing you off while he’s on a phone call being like “ahorita vengo, mijita, calmate” 

and your bratty pouty ass is like i’ll show you calmate 

he’s at his desk with this important phone call and you cutely walking over to him and settling onto your knees 

he’s looking at you like ???? que estas haciendo?? and tries to be like ahorita no 

but he’s not trying very hard to desuade you 

miguel is very no hands when it comes to blowjobs; if anything he has his hands propped behind his head and you aren’t allowed to use hands 

watching you struggle to take him is what he’s really looking for, knows he can control you with a fucking look if he needed to 

likes a slow, steady pace like he likes a blowjob with class not one where you’re chocking on him you feel

chapo 

hear me out here my dear friends, chapo wants you to want him

chapito wants you needy as fuck to get your lips wrapped around him; whimpering, making ojitos and like rocking on him with need 

fucking piece of shit probably asks if you behaved yourself see if you deserve to suck on him and the little smirk he gives you 

okay this but with your fucking plaid mini skirt don’t judge me i just 

no one can tell me chapo wouldn’t be into skirts and dresses and that a plaid skirt would make him lose his absolute fucking shit 

the fucking !!! praise!!! him teasing about how pretty your lips look wrapped around him wow 

 wow have a glimpse into my mind everyone 

rafa:

okay wow rafa gives me you waking him up with a blowjob vibes 

oof i don’t know why but i feel like even when he acts like he fucking hates it, he lowkey lives for the way you tease him 

lives for watching the way you teasingly suck on his tip, the way that you lick him playfully making him fucking groan 

i don’t know why but i see rafa getting blowjobs laying down or like sitting up against the headrest of the bed; probably because if he could he would spend his whole fucking life naked and tangled up in sheets with you

palma 

this is soft as fuck i’m kind of crying

he is pretty sure you’re gods gift to the fucking world already so you being willing to go down on him is just ??? he thinks you’re a literal fucking angel 

i see this happening as like something you do when he’s stressed, like when you find him coming home to sit on the couch and like rubbing his forehead you come right away 

sitting on his lap and cooing up at him and he’s trying to convince you he’s fine but you’re already sliding down his body and settling between his legs

he’s the one who is like gently caressing your hair, moaning softly in appreciation for you, telling you how he doesn’t deserve you

wow he’s instantly fucking relaxing and i am so heart eyes for this idiot

benjamin:

office blowjobs vib e s 

like you brining him lunch or honestly his siblings asking you to come talk to him because they can’t handle his grumpy ass anymore 

and the whole coming into his office and him being like “ahorita no, bebe” but he’s a lying bitch because he’s already backing away from his desk and making space on his lap for him 

and i just live for benjamin in his office chair and you on your knees looking up at him with a pout like “te calmo, papi?” bye 

he’s one for love making, doesn’t rush shit so his blowjobs are something he rushes either; likes watching you bob on him slowly, hand on your head but not roughly

he’s not like amado where he’s the one pushing you against him, he does it more out of a need to touch you

lowkey likes it when you use your hands too i don’t know why i just feel it my dudes... i think it’s the fact that he likes how dainty your hands look against him

benjamin likes seeing you as someone soft, in need of his protection 

ramon 

first and fucking foremost eye !!! contact!! he lives for towering over you, and you looking up at him with like pouty eyes or teary eyes just the sight of you batting your eyelashes up at him is nearly enough to make him cum 

ramon likes it standing because he gets to fucking flex the fact that he’s a tol boy

really leans in to calling you a fucking good girl for him but i’m sorry... lowkey gets into it and calls you his little slut I DONT MAKE THE RULES EVERYONE 

whenever he hears you gag on him he’s like “yeah you fucking like that don’t you, bebe”

oooooOOOOOOoo if he’s not standing , this bitch is handsy as hell; squeezing your tits and or sure smacking your ass 

would lowkey be into blowjobs where others could possibly find you because d a n g e r 

loves watching the way you suck your cheeks in; he likes a varied blow job

some teasing, some deepthroating, some bobing 

the one willing to cum somewhere other than your mouth like getting it on your lips... your tits...

MESSY BLOW JOBS OKAY 

[unpopcorned]

.

.

She’s only seventeen when everything falls apart. Technically speaking, her life falls apart and puts itself back together on a regular basis, but she supposes this time feels a little different. 

Ben’s dead. Charlotte’s dead. Her only way out is fucking gone. 

She’s covered in blood when she comes to Miguel, and he helps her shove all of her clothes into a plastic bag, lighting it on fire outside. She showers, doesn’t bother changing the temperature, and stays until the water until her skin is raw and her fingers are pruning. When she’s done, she steps out, dressing into whatever Miguel had left her to wear, ( her mind and body are on autopilot now ). He tells her to stay for the night, and she’s a little too numb to try and argue with him about that. 

Veronica doesn’t stay long though. When she’s sure Miguel is asleep, she pulls herself off of the couch, shoving her shoes onto either foot and creeping out of the front door. She’s filled to the brim with nerves, she can’t stay there. Not where he can find her, not when every time she shuts her eyes she only sees Ben’s corpse. 

With one-hundred-thirty-four dollars in her back pocket and the clothes on her back, Veronica skips town. 

.

.

“That’ll be...eleven-ninety-four.” 

Veronica shoves hair back from her face, reaches into her pocket and pulls out a twenty. The clerk takes it, counts out her change and hands it over. With that, Veronica leaves the gas station, stuffing the money and heads directly towards her car. The car she’d hotwired only a few hours before she found this place, a car someone would certainly miss - and never have back in the same condition. 

The sun has gone down. And she’s full of nerves - her skin itches terribly. She tries to keep these feelings to herself, it’s not like she has many people to talk to. Or anyone for that matter. She’s alone. Completely, for the first time in her life. She was always constantly surrounded by others, but always felt the same. Now, things were just like she’d always dreamed.

But it doesn’t mean she likes it either. 

Veronica rubs her hands against her arms apprehensively, glances at the payphone across the street. She looks left and right, and then decides to cross, plucking up the receiver when she gets close enough. She has enough change where she can make a call, and she waits almost anxiously as the phone rings a few times. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey.” 

There’s movement, probably him sitting up from bed, “V - holy shit, you okay? What the fu--” 

“I’m fine, Dex. Fuck’s sake.” 

“How the hell else am I supposed to react? Miguel said you left in the middle of the night. No calls, didn’t tell anybody shit. It’s been weeks, V.” 

“Just gimme a little more time, okay? I just - I need to breathe.” 

She can tell Dex isn’t happy with that answer, she wouldn’t be either. But he scoffs into the phone, “...miss you is all. Jorge doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about most of the time. No one’s counting shit. Uncle doesn’t care. I just...need you here, V.” 

That makes her feel a little less itchy, a little less on edge. She looks down at her shoes, her shoes that’re barely held together and her jeans that have dried blood and dirt on the knees. Veronica tilts her head back, tries her hardest to ignore the stinging in her eyes, “I cut my hair.” 

Dex is quiet for a second, and then he snorts, “Yeah? How short?” 

“Pretty fuckin’ short.” 

“Never seen you with short hair.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sure it looks fine. Unless you did it personally or somethin’. Then it’d look like a botch.” 

“Fuck you. I did pretty good.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“I’ll get better at it, fuck off.” 

There’s laughter in his voice, but it soon goes somber after awhile, “Can you promise me you’re gonna come back at some point? In one piece?” 

She fucking hopes so. “Yeah, Dex.” 

She hangs up first, fingers linger around the phone before she drops her hand to her side again. Ten minutes later, she’s back across the street, filling her tank with gas, and driving off. Unfortunately, she can’t linger in a single spot for too long, it’s way too risky. She got that the hard way - things have been quiet though, for the last few weeks at least. But there’s this constant buzzing underneath her skin, in her blood and embedded into her bones that won’t ever leave. This awareness, it wasn’t fleeting. Nothing about this was. 

.

.

She only stops driving when its morning. She’d parked on the side of the road and slept in the backseat. Her car pulls into the parking lot of a diner, out in the middle of nowhere, only two other vehicles there. Veronica is achy and exhausted, and starving, and she has roughly thirty dollars left in her pocket. 

Once inside, she’s relieved to feel that there’s air conditioner. The older woman there ( in big letters on her name tag, there’s STACEY ) gives her a very unamused look and one glance over before she leads her to an empty table. But then again, the entire place is like a ghost town, Veronica can hear sounds from the kitchen, but other than that, there’s nothing. She slides into the booth, all jitters and tense shoulders. 

Stacey pours her coffee quietly, has her pen and paper at the ready when she’s finished, “Want to try our special today? Comes with two eggs, two pieces of meat, and hashbrown.” It doesn’t sound very appetizing right now, but Veronica cannot deny she’s almost weak from hunger. She nods, quiet. Stacey writes it down, then regards her with a pointed look, “You’re not from around here, huh?” 

Veronica narrows her eyes, locks her jaw, “And that’s your fuckin’ business why?” 

Stacey doesn’t say anything to that, only clicks her teeth and leaves her with her coffee and silence. Veronica tries to sit still, has to physically plant her hands on her legs to keep them from shaking the table. She hasn’t lingered in one place for longer than an hour in the last month, and she wouldn’t start now. She’ll just eat, and leave. 

That’s it.

The bell above the door goes off, and Veronica looks up instinctively. Stacey greets the guy, he’s a good foot taller than Veronica with buff shoulders and long legs. No one Veronica can immediately pinpoint, she tries to will her shoulders to relax - stop being so paranoid. He’s seated in the booth behind her, and she hears his voice, he orders a coffee and nothing more. Minutes tick by, Veronica can’t stay still anymore, she pulls a napkin from the dispenser and begins ripping it into little pieces. She doesn’t touch her coffee, she’s wired enough already. 

She’s tempted to just take off, forget the food. But before she can, here comes Stacey with two plates, setting them down in front of Veronica, “Enjoy.” Veronica can’t help but wonder how long she’s been in customer service, because she sucks at it. Veronica forces herself to eat, stuffs as much as she can in her mouth at once until she feels sick. 

The skin on the back of her neck prickles. She stops only for a second, twists her head slightly to see who’s staring. And she’s not surprised to see its the guy, he stares at her from over the brim of his coffee cup, doesn’t look away when she meets his eyes. Veronica turns back around fast, ice darts down the length of her spine. 

And then she’s standing, taking her backpack with her - the place is so small, she doesn’t need to look for the bathroom, it’s directly across from her. When she is inside, she doesn’t even hesitate to look for the nearest exist, the window beside the sink would be a tight squeeze, but she’d manage. Turning over the small cylinder trashcan and pushing it against the wall, Veronica uses it to help her reach the window, undoing the latch and lifting it thereafter. 

Behind her, the door opens. 

Fear plummets deep into her stomach, she hurries to pull herself up. She doesn’t get to, meaty hands reach out and wrap around her right thigh with ease. Fumbling, Veronica tries to twist her body, using her legs to kick. The guy grunts, but doesn’t let go. He’s a lot stronger than her actually, and he makes that apparent by yanking her from the window and shoving her into the wall. Air leaves her lungs in one violent motion, and she gasps. He lets her go almost immediately soon after, and she lands on her side. 

Hard. 

It takes a moment for her vision to come back to her, and by the time she does, the guy is crouching down next to her, his hand touches over her left hip - he’s making sure she doesn’t have anything on her. She makes an attempt to sit up, he grips her shoulder to stop her, but she uses her weight to her advantage, slamming his hand into the sink beside them. 

He makes this almost inhuman growling sound, scrambling to reach for her when she ducks underneath his arm. Veronica is stumbling for the door, she barely registers it is locked before she reaches it, tries in vain to tug it from the wall. Her fingers are shaking too bad to close around the lock, and before she knows it, he’s barreling right back into her. His weight is nearly crushing, the door makes a sharp sound when he forces her up against it. 

His fingers wrap around her throat before she can gather herself, he squeezes tighter and tighter, and this terrifying thought suddenly comes to her head - she might die here. She might die by his hand, in some diner in the middle of nowhere. Where the waitress probably wouldn’t even realize she’s still in there until she begins to smell or a customer finds her ( if they even got regular customers ). And her body would be held until someone claimed it, and no one would. Because she’s Veronica, and because she doesn’t have any ID on her, and because she makes sure to never leave a trace of herself behind. 

“Fucking bitch, stop squirming!” 

She freezes. She knows that voice - she remembers voices and faces very well. And it suddenly comes back to her just why she’d found him familiar in the first place. She’d seen him briefly, but it was enough to leave a lasting impression. He’d been in the room when Ben had died.

“Oh? So you remember?” 

She doesn’t say anything, can’t really. 

“Sorry - I never really got a chance to introduce myself. Terrible etiquette, my bad. Name’s Arnold,” He squeezes his fingers tighter around her neck, Veronica’s eyes water, “West been looking for you. And he sends me on this fucking wild goose chase just to look for you. Crazy, right? All over one dried-up--” 

Her foot is formally introduced to his dick. And his hold fumbles, Veronica uses it as her chance to jerk around him, her eyes focused specifically on the light spilling from the window above. She makes it to the trashcan again, hands latching onto the window sill to keep herself from falling. But he stops her again, his fingers tangle into her hair, his other hand coming around her mouth to muffle her sounds. 

She bites him. As hard as she possibly can with the angle. Until she tastes blood. He lets her go again, finally. Veronica lifts her weight into the window, and just like she thought, it’s a tight squeeze. Her hips get stuck, and to keep him off of her, she kicks back - her shoe plants directly into his nose. When she’s free, Veronica’s running. 

Car forgotten, bag left. She’s not looking back. 

.

.

“So what’re you going to do?” From across the table, Jax looks at the eighteen-year-old Veronica very worriedly. His hair is getting longer again, he really needs to cut it. But Veronica isn’t going to tell him that, it isn’t any of her business. She fixes him with a look, and he raises his hands defensively, “I’m just sayin’, you can’t keep doing what...whatever you’re doing right now. It’s not really living, V.” 

When has she ever really lived? When did she ever have the time? Every moment of her life only stacked up to more shit, it’s been like that since she was born. She’s grown used to it, doesn’t bother resisting it or trying to change fate’s hand. It’ll always be like this, or at least, until she kicks the bucket. Hopefully, that’s no time soon. 

“What else am I supposed to do?” She’s tired, it’s very apparent in her voice, “I can’t keep...running away from him. He knows where I am, all the time. Nothin’ is fucking working.” 

“Rob thinks--” 

“No. No Rob. I’m not dragging him into this again.” 

“V--” 

“Out of all people, you should know how West works. You should know how this works. There’s no...gettin’ away from him. Not completely.” 

Jax fixes his lips into a straight line, he looks serious for once, “I...I want to help, V. I really do, but--” 

“I get it. It’s fine. Whatever,” He doesn’t look convinced, Veronica isn’t looking at him anymore, “I’ll...talk to someone. Devin or somethin’. He still owes me and Rob.” Jax nods, doesn’t try to break in, “If he knows you’re talking to me, he’ll kill you, probably. If he knew we were talkin’ about this.” 

Jax smiles this time, it’s a very familiar look on his face, causes the corners of his eyes to crinkle, “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. One time offer, for you only, V!” 

Veronica rolls her eyes, but her voice lacks its usual venom, “Yeah. Sure.” 

After their talk, Jax leaves before her, and she is left alone. Veronica sits for awhile longer at the bar, only picks herself up when her head isn’t swimming as much. It’s been a year - she’ll try again, she’ll keep trying until she’s out of his five-fingered iron grip. Everyone around her tells her its impossible - Borris, Nixie, Jax. But she’s never been the one to listen to reason. She’s quickly found out that she’d rather be dead than be trapped underneath his fist, forced to play his sick game of chess until he’s satisfied. Attempting to take her own life hadn’t gone so well before. Six months ago, he’d found her in bed, overdosed and still. And he’d managed to bring her back, and managed to make her life a living hell even after that. Even though a small part of her tries to tell her to accept her fate and that there’s no way to escape him, the larger and stronger part tells her to keep fighting. Because that’s all her body really knows, in the end. 

She leaves the bar, leaning against the side to light a cigarette and try to clear her mind. It’s been a week since she’d last seen him, a week since she’d left the house in the middle of the night and hadn’t been back. It’s also been two years since she’d met him, and just like he knows her like the back of his hand, the sentiment can be returned. Veronica is well aware where he will look first, who he will ask, she’s not stupid. 

She stays holed up on the other side of town, very far away from that massive manor he calls home. She hates that place, almost as much as she hates him. It fuels her escape, clogs her chest and makes it harder to breathe - this hate she keeps close to her heart. For herself, for him, for what the world has made her into. Too damaged, but good enough for someone like him. 

Veronica tosses her cigarette on the ground when she’s finished, steps directly on top of it. Down the sidewalk, cuts through an alley that leads to the station. Apprehensively, she glances over her shoulder, she seems to be doing that a lot lately. Faces forward again, walks a little faster.  She’ll feel better if she’s near light, which is only a few feet away, underneath the street lamp. Once she’s on the train, once she’s at Mr. Rubio’s where it’s safe, she’ll calm down. She’ll think of a plan, it’s the only thing she can do in a predicament like this.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t get very far. Before she can turn the corner of the alleyway, a hand darts out and grabs a tight hold of her arm. Veronica inhales sharply, a hand comes tight around her mouth and jaw before she can get a sound out. They’re surprisingly gentle though ( save for the bruising grip on her arm ), and a cold bucket of panic washes over her. She’s pressed up against the brick wall, stares straight into the cool blue eyes of his. 

Must’ve been important if he showed up himself. No Arnold, no bodyguards, just him. 

“If I let you go, will you promise not to scream?” 

Veronica stares at him, eyes eating up her face. But she manages a careful nod of her head. West releases her arm and mouth, yet doesn’t move an inch back. He crowds up her space thoroughly, makes it difficult to breathe or focus on anything but him. 

“Good girl.” 

Veronica wants to spit in his face. 

He tilts his head at her, reaches down and fiddles with the zipper of her jacket. For awhile, he doesn’t say anything, only drags it down until he can see her shirt underneath, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

She doesn’t doubt that. She’s very aware when his hand ducks over her side, touches her waist. It makes her feel cold all over, “Really?” 

“Yes, really. I missed you this week. You left without saying anything.” 

She inhales, exhales deeply. Veronica is trying hard to soothe her racing thoughts, “...I’m sorry, West.” 

“Are you? I can’t tell,” His anger is there, he just has a really nice way of showing it. His eyes narrow slightly, jaw flexing when he tightens it, “You keep leaving me.” He sounds like a disapproving parent, just waiting to punish her for lying. She keeps leaving because she fucking hates him. Because she doesn’t trust herself not to smother him in his sleep or blow her brains out in one of his cars. Because she can’t breathe around him, because there is no rest when he’s concerned. There’s only the smell of blood and the bitter tastes of lies on her tongue. 

“I didn’t--” 

“Don’t lie,” he tells her, reaching up and clasping her shoulders in his hands. He squeezes, “Don’t lie to my face, Veronica. We’ve talked about that.” 

“West--” 

He hits her. Right across the face. She hears the slap before she feels the pain blooming across her temple and cheek. Veronica’s fight is instant, she tries to dislodge herself from his grip, scrambling to find purchase on the walls for any type of leverage. He doesn’t let her - he takes a hold of her arm, yanks her backwards. The sudden movement is enough to make her hiss, any harder and he would’ve dislocated her shoulder. Though, she doesn’t get to tell him this, he leans down and kisses her the next second. 

His mouth is warm on hers, he forces his way inside, presses her harder up against the wall, caging her there. She cannot move, she cannot breathe like this. He’s everywhere at once. Veronica makes an attempt to twist her head away, it makes him break off, but he continues to trail kisses down to her ear, pinning her wrist to the wall behind her. 

“You carve my heart out, Veronica.” 

And then he lets her go. It’s so sudden that she loses her footing and stumbles backwards. She’s out of breath, left staring up at him when he draws back completely. He crouches down to her height, but doesn’t touch her. Even so, she jerks back tight against the wall behind her, back pressed tight to the brick. 

“...you’ll come home, won’t you? For me?” 

.

.

Jacob likes to cuddle. Veronica hates it. 

Even though she makes sure to keep distance between them, he always seems to end up wrapped around her. Maybe the better use of words would be - she wants to hate it. She wants to hate the warmth he exudes, or the comfort. But she can’t, not really. Even though she forces herself to do so. 

When she is sure he’s asleep, she pulls herself out of bed, throws off the covers from her legs and stands. It’s difficult to find her jeans in the dark, but she manages. Veronica tugs them up, clasping the button closed and shrugs on her shirt next. Her socks and shoes are next, she has to feel around to look for her jacket. 

“Goin’ somewhere?” 

Veronica almost jumps a foot in the air, turns to see Jacob is sitting up in bed and staring at her, eyebrows slightly furrowed. She curses underneath her breath, “Yeah. Home.” 

He makes this noncommittal noise underneath his breath and sits up more, leaning back against the wall behind the bed, “Home. Right. Since that worked out so well last time.” 

She wants to tell him to mind his business, but she can’t really do that. It’s not like he came out looking for her, it’s not like he’s the one who came to her covered in bruises from head to toe. It’s the other way around, and he took her in with open arms. Veronica doesn’t say anything for awhile, only sits down on the edge of the bed when she finds her shoes, “I’m only gonna be gone for an hour. Tops.” 

He scoots closer to her, she can feel his body heat now. He doesn’t touch her, not yet, “If you’re going back to--” 

“I’m not going back to anything. I’m going to get my shit. My clothes, stuff, money.” She doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s displeased with that answer, “You can’t make me stay.” 

“I know.” 

“Then don’t try.” 

She’s a little surprised to feel his lips on the side of her head. And he curls his body around hers, almost familiarly. It makes her feel strange, almost makes her shoot up from the bed, but she wills herself to hold still.

“Y’said an hour?” 

“...yeah.” 

“Fine,” he inhales deeply, pulls back after a few seconds, “An hour.” 

.

.

She climbs in through the first story window. She has no way of knowing if he changed the locks, or if anyone will be waiting at the door, so she tries the safest approach. Inside of his study now, she takes a quick glimpse around. It’s been around two weeks since she’s been here - she’s been staying with Jacob, and though she would prefer not to, it’s the safest bet she has to staying alive. 

West would find her,somehow. He always did. Things were different with Jacob though - she supposes she can say he even made her feel safe. He didn’t know the extent of what happened, he just barely knows anything about her, and still, he welcomed her back with open arms. Even after what happened with Arnold. He’s either really stupid or too kind. Or he just wanted to get his dick wet.

It didn’t matter to her. Not right now, at least. 

She opens the door of the study carefully, it doesn’t creak. And then closes it behind her. If she leaves anything how it wasn’t before, he would notice and find out. From what she could see from the parking outside, Arnold wasn’t home. And if he wasn’t here, neither was Borris. Which was a good thing, if anything happened, she wouldn’t be able to take on two six-foot guys at once. 

She goes through the house as quietly as she possibly can, gathering her things and whatever she needs. If any of her plans are going to go through, she’ll need the money she’d left stashed away months ago. And that’s upstairs. She has to swallow down any unease before she takes the first step, and then another, and another until she’s at the top. Veronica keeps her steps light and quick, glances out of the corner of her eye to see West’s door. It’s clamped shut, and he’s more than likely asleep at this time. 

She ducks into the guest bedroom, forcefully shoves the hardwood dresser from in front of the air vent embedded into the wall. The screws are already loosened from before, so Veronica pries it off, reaching inside. The duffel bag is found with ease, and she pulls it out, slinging it above her head so it can rests over her back. 

She’s leaving the room soon after, quietly reaching backwards and closing the door behind her. Down the stairs, through the foyer, she’s just about to put her hand on the doorknob when it begins to twist on its own. She blinks, backtracks quickly behind the door so when it opens, she’s behind it. Someone steps inside, closes the door behind them, and because of the limited darkness, they don’t immediately see Veronica. 

West hangs up his coat, he’s whistling that annoying song him and Arnold seem to remember from childhood. Veronica absolutely loathes it. Crouched in the corner and slightly behind the foyer table, she holds her breath until he begins to head towards the stairs. Only for him to stop.

Veronica watches as he glances around the expanse of the room. Up the stairs, towards the sitting area, and then to his study. It’s quiet, Veronica still has tried her best not to breathe. 

“Veronica.” 

She clamps both hands over her mouth, doesn’t say a word. 

“Veronica, come out.” 

Nothing.

“Let’s make this easy.” 

Still quiet. 

“You know I hate when you do this. When you leave me. When you hurt me like this.” 

Now he’s walking back in the direction of the door. She slinks further behind the table, hidden by the coats in the corner. She feels small, like anyone could step on her and crush her. She tries to steel her shoulders, inhale through her nose as quietly as she can. 

“I can’t be without you, you know that,” His voice is gentle, almost like he’s talking to a child, “We’re meant to be together at this point. Look at what fate has brought us, Veronica.” 

She can’t say anything. She won’t feed into it. 

“Veronica!” His voice sounds almost inhuman, a guttural sound from deep within his chest. His patience has worn thin already, she jumps against the side of the wall, she can’t help herself, “Come out!! Come out now! You lying cunt!” His steps suddenly head straight into her direction, and before he can yank back the coats to see her, she attacks first. 

Her pocket knife sinks into the muscles of his shoulder, and she twists. He stumbles backwards, and before he can lunge towards her again, she’s already running. Past him, towards his study, making sure to turn and lock the door once she’s inside. West doesn’t stop though, the knob is twisted, and then more violently. The door shakes and rattles hard, but the lock doesn’t give away. 

“Veronica!!” 

His voice sends a shiver down her spine, makes her take a half-step backwards. 

“Veronica, Veronica - open the door for me. Open the door.” 

And now it’s gentler, he stops yanking at it. 

“Let’s not fight, beautiful. Open the door.” 

She darts to the window, scrambles to pull it open. The rattling starts up again, it sounds like he’s dangerously close to ripping the door from the hinges. If it wasn’t for the expensive wood, he probably would have. 

“Veronica! Open the door! Now!”

She’s already out the window. 

.

.

“So you took care of it?” 

Veronica looks up from her fries, Jacob is giving her an expectant look, eyebrows jerked up high, “Can you stop fuckin’ asking me a bunch of questions? You’re gonna give me a headache.” 

“I ask ‘cause I worry.” 

“Well, don’t. It’s fuckin’ weird. S’not like you really give a shit anyway.” 

Jacob stares at her for awhile, reaches across and swipes one of her fries from her plate. Veronica makes a very loud complaint, which makes the waitress from across the room give them a dirty look at the profanity, “What makes y’think that?” 

“Think what, dickhead?” 

“That I don’t give a shit. About you.”

Veronica avoids eye contact with him, because she already knows what type of look he’s going to be giving her. That weird soft look that catches into his eyes, it makes her uncomfortable. Maybe because she’s never been looked at like that before, “Thought the point of dinner was to eat, not talk.” 

“I’m still tryin’ to treat this like a date, so talkin’ is mandatory.” 

“Fuck. Off.” 

.

.