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bizarredalek · 3 years ago

Text

Phone Call

Thirteenth Doctor x Reader

Word count: 10,683

Summary: Reader suffers a severe injury and in their final moments they call the Doctor for one final goodbye

Warnings: hurt/comfort, reader gets shot (twice), blood, nightmares

A/N: I’ve had this posted on my ao3 since August lmao I kept forgetting to put it here oop

Call me whenever you need or if you’re ready to come back to the Tardis.

The Doctors voice had been ringing in your head for a few days now. You had asked her to drop you off at home for a bit because you had some errands you needed to do for a few days or so, and she understood. She made sure you had the Tardis phone number – her number, for when you were all set to come back.

‘One more day should be enough,’ you thought.

You were walking back to your house; you had just spent the day with your family. Thankfully, the Doctor put you back in the correct time, so it’s only been a few days since you had last seen them, and not a year or so later – that would have been a disaster. You weren’t sure how long it had been since you started travelling with the Doctor, but you knew you were starting to miss your family, and it was nice seeing them again.

“Home sweet home,” you said to no one in particular as your house came into view, but the words felt empty and wrong on your tongue.

You felt that since being on the Tardis that special blue box had become more your home than the building in front of you. You sighed and trudged up to the front door. When you fished out your keys out of your pocket and put it in the lock, the twist of the key didn’t bring the familiar click of the door unlocking.

The door was already unlocked, and you were positive that you had locked it when you left earlier that day. The door slowly creaked open as you pushed your way inside, sending an uncomfortable chill down your spine. Your first thought was that there was an intruder in your place.

You really hoped you were wrong.

Sneaking your way through the hallways you made sure to grab the first thing you could think of as a weapon, cutting through the kitchen in case you did find someone in your house. Admittedly, it was a frying pan, not the most menacing of weapons, you thought, but if you did find that someone had broken in, you reckoned you could give one hell of a swing on them.

You didn’t have to look very far when you started to hear drawers and things being opened in the living room. You cursed under your breath, it was already too late to turn back now, you were sure if you tried to back out of the house whatever it was that was rummaging around your space would hear you. The thought of calling the Doctor for help briefly crossed your mind, but you shook that thought away. This was probably nothing.

Please be an animal, please be an animal.

You peeked the corner to see it was not in fact an animal, but a kid, maybe a teenager, that was searching around your belongings. In his left hand he held a gun. Your heart stopped in dread thinking that if he caught you he probably wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you, whether it was purposeful or accidental.

‘What to do. What to do,’ you thought.

You considered rushing up behind him and knocking him out, but how could you wack a kid on the head before trying to sneak back out the front door to call for the police. Either option would probably end with you dead in your house. You unconsciously took a step back away from the living room, accidentally knocking your foot into the cabinet. The blood in your face drained, all colour gone. Your heart beat loud in your ears, louder than the rushed footsteps coming at you.

The kid robber rounded the corner and drew his gun on you. You froze. You could see the weapon in his hand tremble, and you guessed that he must’ve been to breaking and entering peoples’ homes. You could probably talk yourself out of harm. You very slowly placed the pan in your hand on the ground by your feet and stood straight with your hands in front of you.

“Listen,” you started to say. “I don’t have a lot of valuables, but you can have whatever you found, alright?”

His arm started to falter and drop, and you let out a huge sigh of relief, but a sudden loud noise from outside startled the both of you. The boy gasped in fright, his finger squeezing the trigger. The loud bang made you jump.

At first you had thought that he missed, and you almost relaxed thinking that you were going to be okay.

Almost

Something wet began to soak through your shirt, and you looked down in horror as your clothing dyed itself red. Your legs trembled under your weight, and you collapsed on the floor.

The action startled the kid again, his attention having been on the direction of the noise. His grasped flinched, your body jerking as another bullet pierced your frame. It was higher this time; the first one hit your stomach and the second just under where your heart was. Both bullets did not go through all the way or cleanly.

You were confused that you weren’t in any pain; was your adrenaline so high that it just blocked it out?

You laid on the floor in shock. You were just shot, you were shot by a kid, and he just panicked and ran to the door. You wanted to stop him, to get him to come back and call for help, but your voice refused to work. You could only let out short breaths, your lungs aching as you did so.

Your shirt was a deep red colour now, nearly covering the whole material, soaked in your blood. Your injuries felt like how you could only describe as a burning fire, and that fire was slowly trying to consume you. Your hands shook violently as you tried to put pressure on the wound, a cry of pain slipping past your lips.

What were you going to do?

Call me whenever you need.

A surge of determination overtook the fire and you forced yourself to get off the floor. You stood on shaking legs and stumbled your way to where your home phone was in the kitchen – a quick pat of your pockets told you your cellphone was missing from you person, either it fell out or it was stolen. Regardless, you didn’t care very much in this moment.

You grabbed a dishcloth to press against the wound against your chest, which was bleeding faster than the other. Pressing with as much pressure as you could muster, you dialed a familiar number that had been on your mind all day. You hoped that the person on the other side would pick up.

“Hello, the Tardis speaking!” the Doctors voice was easily recognizable through the speaker.

You smiled at the sound of her voice. It almost seemed to ease the agonizing pain in your body. You slid down the wall to sit on the floor, the phone still pressed firmly against your ear.

“H-hey, Doctor,” you replied, clearing your throat to hide the tremble wanting to come out.

The Doctor excitedly said your name and you smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “Hey! I wasn’t expecting your call for at least another day. Change in plans?”

You winced, muffling your cry of pain as you pressed harder on you wound. “Ah, not really. I just wanted to catch up with you, ask how your day has been. I just missed you, you know? Haven’t seen you in a while, h-how you been?”

If the Doctor had any idea you were hiding something from her, or that something was wrong, she didn’t show it when she talked. “Oh, you, know, I’m alright. Been here and there and, well, everywhere. Saved the universe, the usual.”

You laughed, a little breathlessly, into the phone. “You always have the craziest adventures don’t you, Doctor?”

She also laughed, a beautiful sound, you wished she’d do it more. “Yeah, well, they’re no fun without you. When are you planning on coming back to the Tardis? I’ve got something fun planned. Imagine; sparkling blue waterfalls that fall from clouds and beaches of the softest sands.”

“Sounds wonderful,” you said almost sadly, a beautiful place that you will never get to see. You looked down to see the blood-soaked cloth and took note that the blood was not slowing down or stopping, the once white material was a deep dark red and poured down your side to form a puddle underneath you. Damnit this is bad. You were getting lightheaded and dizzy. You were glad that you were already sitting down, you didn’t want the Doctor to hear you stumble and fall. Pulling your shirt up to really look at your wound you saw the red angry skin that greeted you. “I was thinking soon. I’ve done all that I needed to do, figured I could use a day to relax, you know?”

“Absolutely!” You wished you could have seen the way her eyes lit up. “Just give me a shout, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, pulling your shirt back down. It was stupid not to tell the Doctor that you were hurt, dying even, you knew you were, but you didn’t want her to worry about you. You couldn’t do that to her, even though you thought it just as cruel, if not more, that she would most likely find you after you had already passed.

“So, tell me about your latest universe save,” you asked, trying to take your mind off the numbness in your fingers.

And so, the Doctor began her tale, and you clung to every word that she spoke. “Well, it was thousands of years in the future, right, and I went to go visit a planet that I used to go to all the time. Anyway, the place was beautiful, waters as clear as air you can almost see all the way to the bottom, so clear you almost couldn’t even see it, and the air was so fresh, and it smelled like vanilla if you could believe it!”

“Wow,” you whispered. Another place you’ll never get to see.

As you continued to listen to the Doctors story your mind couldn’t help but wander. You started to think about all the amazing adventures you had with the Doctor, how great your life had become after you met her, all those worlds you’ve seen, the lives you saved, seeing the people you’ve learned about in books and school. All the running you did, and, oh man, did you two go far.

Then, you thought about her. You thought about her smile as it lit up the darkest room, her eyes that held the universe in them, and her hearts that held so much kindness.

Tears slowly slipped down your cheeks. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, you couldn’t get any air into your lungs, and you hoped you weren’t wheezing into the Doctors ear, hoping that you didn’t interrupt her story.

The numbness grew from your finger, you could barely feel the phone in your hand, and it travelled up your arms and down your legs. Your arm had begun to shake and tremble, making it difficult to keep the phone up, but you held on, you held on for her.

You knew you were never going to see her again, and you accepted that, but as much as you wanted to tell her what happened to you, how you needed her, you knew it was too late for her to help you now. It was up to the Doctor if she decided if she wanted to time travel to save you before you got shot, but you wouldn’t hold any hate towards her if she decided not to, and you were happy that she was there to pick up the phone.

Your body jerked when the Doctor suddenly called your name in your ear. “You still there? Haven’t gone to sleep on me have you?”

You were confused at what had happened. You didn’t remember closing your eyes. “Y-yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I think I dozed off for a second.”

“Hope my story wasn’t boring you.”

“No!” you told her. “No, as if anything you say could be boring.”

You could feel your heartbeat pick up faster trying to work overtime with the blood it had left over in your body to work with, to keep you alive. This is bad. Please, please hold on a little longer, not yet.

The Doctor hummed through the speaker. “It is getting quite late for you. You should go to bed, and I’ll see you later, yeah?”

No please don’t go.

You looked up at the window and saw that the sky was in fact getting darker, and you wondered how long it’s been since you got home.

“Not yet,” you told her, hiding the hitch in your voice as you shifted. “I want to hear more of your stories.”

“Well, there’s plenty of times for stories when you get back to the Tardis,” she told you.

A single tear slipped down your cheek. “Where’s one place you always wanted to go, Doctor?”

A moment of silence. “I don’t know, when there are so many places to visit it’s hard to pick just one. What about you? Where’s one place you want to go?”

You laughed; eyes transfixed on the red puddle that slowly covered white tile floors. “The place of cloud waterfalls and soft beaches.”

Whatever the Doctor said next fell on deaf ears as you zoned out, and it was getting difficult to keep your eyes open.

“You should go to bed,” was the next thing you heard.

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. “Y-yeah, I-I’ll see you later. Goodbye, Doctor.”

With a goodnight and goodbye of her own you kept the phone to your ear until you heard the familiar click of the call ending. You let your arm drop, the back of your hand landing on the red stained floor underneath you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled tiredly, your body slumping against the counter beside you. “I’m sorry…Doctor.”

Death’s door had opened for you and his skeletal hand reached out to beckon you into his peaceful embrace, an embrace that promised that you wouldn’t feel this pain anymore. You weren’t going to fight it anymore, you held on long enough to say goodbye to the Doctor, your life was filled with adventure after meeting her and you wouldn’t have asked for anything else. You wouldn’t stop the smile that lifted your face, and this time you let your eyes fully close.

The Doctor on the other hand stared at her phone in puzzlement. Her hearts were telling her something was off. Everything screamed at her to go check up on you, even the Tardis whirred her own concern urging her pilot to go. The Doctor, at first, thought she was overreacting, of course everything was fine, you are fine. She didn’t want to be bothersome when it most likely nothing but…then again there was something about your call that didn’t sit well with her.

Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is wrong!

“I know!” the Doctor gave in, already rushing around the console room.

The Tardis had already set a course for your house, and she did not waste any time, not when your life may be on the line. As soon as she landed the Doctor ran out of the Time Machine, the Tardis just barely having enough time to open the doors for her.

The Doctor ran into your house, your front door was wide open which made her hearts drop into her stomach in fear. You never left your door open. Her boots thundered across the hardwood floor of your home as she shouted your name, trying to get you to reply to her. She hoped she was just overreacting and that you’ll come downstairs to greet her asking her what she was doing here, but you didn’t, the house remained still and silent while the Doctors voice echoed through empty halls.

Her voice died in her throat, her feet stopping dead in their tracks. She reached the kitchen, and there she found you. She felt tears in her eyes as she looked at your still body. You were lying limp against the counter beside you, your face was drained of all colour. Seemingly lifeless. Your arm laid across your stomach holding a cloth against you, your other hand holding the phone you used to call her. Your fingers were stained red.

Her hearts ached painfully in her chest when she looked at the large deep red puddle of blood that pooled under your body, and her eyes followed the red trail from the kitchen to the living room where the red had started.

“No, no, no,” the Doctor rushed to your side and pulled you into her arms.

She cradled your head against her and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to support you. She whispered your name a few times, her voice cracking but trying to be strong.

She tapped your leg to get a reaction from you, a noise, a twitch, something, but you didn’t even flinch. The Doctor urgently placed her fingers on your neck and held her breath, hoping for a pulse.

“Please,” she begged. “Please.”

A faint ba-bump under her hand made the Doctor release the breath she had been holding. It was weak and barely there, but she could feel your shallow breathing against her neck, and that was enough for the Doctor to know you were alive.

She scooped the rest of you into her arms, standing slowly and carefully, so she didn’t hurt you more. Your blood stained her clothes while she carried you to the Tardis, but she didn’t care, the only thing that mattered to the Doctor was saving your life. You were the only thing that was on her mind, and she refused to let you go. She ignored the Tardis’s whirrs of concern and worry as she assessed your condition.

The Doctor took you straight to the infirmary room and put you down on the medical bed. She whispered strings of apologies when you whimpered, the movement jostling you. It was the first sound you made since she found you, but you still remained unconscious.

The Doctor made quick work to tear your shirt off of you so she could see your injuries. It wasn’t hard for her to find the bullets wounds in your chest and stomach, both were still bleeding pretty badly, and her hearts ached again.

Why didn’t you tell her? She could have helped you! She banished the thought. She couldn’t be angry. She wouldn’t.

The bullet wounds didn’t have an exit point, and a quick scan confirmed the Doctor’s theory that the bullets were still inside you. She knew that if she was to save you, she’d have to do surgery. She had to stop you from going somewhere she couldn’t follow.

The Doctor left your side to gather her necessary tools and anesthetic. It would keep you sleeping, and hopefully you wouldn’t feel any more pain. You groaned, catching the Doctors attention. She had stepped away too soon, your eyes blinking open.

She was by your side in the blink of your eyes. The Doctor took note of how unfocused they were, your pupils barely dilating when she shined the light of her sonic over them. You had lost a lot of blood.

She placed her hand on your pale cheek, whispering your name. “Can you hear me?”

You blinked again, and the Doctor watched your face scrunch up as you tried to speak. Under different circumstances, she would’ve found the expression cute. “D-Doctor?”

“Hey,” she smiled, moving her hand up to brush your hair back. “How are you feeling?”

“You’re not here,” you said instead.

The Doctor was taken aback. How could you think that she wasn’t there with you? “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

You shook your head, the motion used up a lot of your remaining energy. “No, the Doctor is still in the Tardis far… far away.”

The Doctor knew you wouldn’t believe her no matter how often she told you that she was real. You were so delirious from blood loss it would be hard to convince you. Instead, she brought all her tools to your side and quickly got the anesthesia ready for you.

“What would you tell her if she was here?” the Doctor asked you.

You groaned in pain. “That ‘m sorry. Didn’t … didn’t want ‘er to worry a-about me.” You took in a shaky breath. “I-It hurts.” “I know,” the Doctor shushed you, running her hand through your hair. “I’m going to help you, okay?” The Doctor placed the mask over your mouth and nose. “Take as many deep breathes as you can manage.”

“Just let me go,” you whispered, voice muffled from the mask.

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor said. “Just take a breath and the next time you wake you’ll be better.”

You did as she told, taking in as much air as your lungs would allow. You noticed how you weren’t feeling as much pain as before. The fire that burned your skin was extinguishing, you could barely keep your eyes open.

“I’m scared,” you mumbled, your eyes blinking tiredly at the blonde angel above you.

The Doctor inhaled sharply. Her thumb gently brushing away a tear that you probably weren’t even aware was falling down your cheek.

“It’ll be okay,” she told you, watching as you finally succumbed to a deep long sleep. Hopefully, it was a sleep where you weren’t hurting, where you could forget about your injuries. If only for a moment.

The Doctor kept the mask over your face to keep you under until she was done the operation. She hovered her sonic over your body, finding the exact place where the bullets were. The one in your stomach didn’t appear to have caused any severe internal damages, but the other… the other was buried deep into your chest. It had nicked your heart and would move and damage more of you with every breath you took. She took note of your ever slowing heartbeat. The Doctor moved to grab her tools and she took a deep breath.

“You’ll be okay.”

And she started working.

~~~

Hours went by until the Doctor finally allowed herself to rest when. Your vitals had finally stabilized. You were still unconscious on the bed, looking almost peaceful. If it wasn’t for your cold pale skin and bandage wrapped torso, one would think you were merely sleeping.

There were a few close calls where your heart had stopped, but she was able to bring you back every time. The Doctor watched your chest subtly move up and down with your breaths; her only reassurance that you were still alive, save for the rhythmic beeping that mimicked your heartbeat. Her own hearts clenched and skipped a beat of their own as she took in your old bloody clothes and the two bullets she had removed during surgery.

The Doctor sighed, cleaning the mess before leaving to quickly change her clothes. The blood, your blood, had already dried on her. It made her sick. She hadn’t been there to protect you.

Unable to handle the sight of stained red and brown on light blue, she threw off her coat, making short work of changing into cleaner clothes before she made her way back to your side. She had to be there for you now.

‘You were fine. You are fine.’

The Doctor brought a chair to your bedside and sat down. You weren’t out of the woods yet. The Doctor needed to know you were okay, that she was aware of your condition, make sure it didn’t drastically drop.

She carefully took your limp hand in hers and started to run her thumb over the back of your hand. Whether it was supposed to be a comfort for you or her, she wasn’t sure. “Please be okay,” she whispered.

You didn’t respond, of course you didn’t respond. How could you, you were lost in your body, and it was unknown when you would wake again.

The Doctor sighed and rested her head next to your arm, absentmindedly drawing patterns on the back of your hand. Perhaps she’d allow herself a few moments to rest her eyes. It didn’t take long for the faint beeping behind her to lull her into sleep.

The bed trembled, forcing the Doctors eyes open. She shook herself of her sleep haze and rushed to stand, checking what was wrong. Your body was shaking, jerking in violent motions. Your face was twisted in pain, marred by the blood coming out of the side of your mouth.

Your vitals were high, up to levels the Doctor thought not possible for a human. She tried to do a quick scan of you, but her sonic wasn’t working. She hit it against her palm, but only got a small spark of life before it died again. In a huff, she threw it to the side and tore the bandages off of you.

She froze.

The skin around your wounds were a deep purple and black in colour, it almost seemed to come out of the bullet wounds themselves. The Doctor had never seen anything like this before, it shouldn’t be happening, there should be no reason this was happening to you.

She ran around the infirmary looking for something, anything, to help you, to stop this from spreading further. A long, dull electronic note made her pause. She looked over at you, your body motionless in the bed.

The machine monitoring your heart had flat-lined.

“No, no, no!” the Doctor cried. “Come on!”

She ran over, trying CPR to get your heart beating again, to get you breathing. Why was this happening, this shouldn’t be happening! All this fancy tech and advanced medicines and she was losing you. She couldn’t lose you! What would she do without you? She had so many things she wanted to show you. Stupid, stupid Doctor! She should’ve been there with you; she could’ve stopped this! Her and her useless big brain and she couldn’t save you-

The Doctor jolted upright, and she tumbled out of her chair. Her eyes were cloudy and unfocused. Her hearts drummed loudly in her ears, almost drowning out the electronic beeping of the heartbeat monitor. The Doctors face scrunched up in confusion, why could she hear a heartbeat monitor?

The fog cleared in her mind - your heartbeat monitor! She stood on shaky legs, still half asleep, and looked at the machine. Its steady, monotonous rhythmic beeping calming her. She took a deep breath to slow her hammering hearts.

Her eyes moved from the machine to your still form, just able to see your chest slowly rising and falling with your breathing. The Doctor couldn’t help but reach out to place her hand right over your heart, feeling the weak thumping under her palm. It was small, but it was there, and it was getting better.

“Just a dream,” she said.

The Doctor ran a hand over her face, wiping away the lingering sleep and nightmare, and sighed. The nightmare left her shaken, her hand never leaving its place over your heart, helping calm hers down. She jumped when the Tardis hummed down at her.

“It’s okay,” she assured the Time Machine. “I need to find out what happened.”

With a final check on you she went to the console room. The Doctor pulled down levers and set the date for the same day, but hours before she got the call from you. The Tardis wheezed and trembled when she landed, but before the Doctor could run out the front doors again the monitor lit up.

“What?” the Doctor asked and going back to read it.

The words “Fixed Point” stared back at her and the Doctor felt like she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t stop you from being hurt. Couldn’t stop the pain you were feeling right now.

The Doctor was furious, not at you, never at you. No, she was furious at whoever it was that shot you, so furious she turned away from the monitor and marched out of the Tardis.

She was parked on the other side of the street, tucked away out of sight, but your house was the only thing the Doctor could see. She watched past you stand on your front step and lock the door, before leaving to go visit your family. It was hard for the Doctor to watch you walk down the street, completely unaware of what was waiting for you when you came back.

It was hard too for the Doctor to not go warn you, to tell you not to go home, to do anything to keep you from your fate. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t do anything, and it was the worst pain she had ever felt.

She didn’t know how long it was that she waited there waiting for something to happen, and it wasn’t until that the sun had begun to set that she noticed a boy, he looked to be in his teens, trying to make his way up the steps of your house and fiddle with the lock.

Rage began to build inside the Doctor when she realized that this is who shot you, and she very nearly went to confront him - but she was stopped in place.

Fixed point, fixed point, fixed point.

Her jaw clenched and her feet stayed glued to the concrete below watching the kid sneak into your home. It was maybe an hour or so before she saw you walking back. You seemed less energetic than when she saw you leave, your feet dragging behind you.

You glanced at your house with a look of unfamiliarity in your eye, like you didn’t want to go back in. She watched you walk up the steps, and oh so badly wanted to run over and stop you from going in. When you disappeared inside the house the Doctor waited … And waited … And waited, until-

Bang!

The Doctor trembled in anger. She hated this, but she had to know. Her feet were glued to the ground despite her attempts to lean forward to run in and stop this.

Bang!

The second one. The worst one. All time seemed to have stopped after that second shot. She watched as the shooter ran out of your house in a panic, leaving your front door open, and you inside. The Doctor couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t handle knowing that currently in the past you were laying in your house bleeding and dying and alone.

She forced herself to turn around and go back into the Tardis, where present you was injured and unconscious, but alive. When the Tardis doors shut behind her the Doctor collapsed on the floor, her mind replaying the scene over and over again. It felt like her hearts broke and died with both shots that nearly took you from her.

~~~ You groaned as your consciousness came back to you. You felt numb, and every movement ached and protested. You tried shifting around to ease the tension in your body, but a pained gasp left you, your back arching in an attempt to get away from the fire that threatened to burn through you.

You didn’t hear the door sliding open, or the heavy footfalls that followed, your ears feeling as if someone had them covered.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed the burning to stop. You scratched at the burning, at the material on you. Get it off, get it off, get it off.

Your hands met something wet, but you didn’t stop. It hurt so much. A call of your name, or what you think was your name, barely broke through the muffled space.

Suddenly, hands grabbed your wrists, moving you away from where you were scratching. You thrashed in their hold, but they remained strong and unmoving. You sobbed as the burn turned into a roaring fire. The hands wrapped around your wrist never loosened, pinning yours to your sides. You squirmed, thrashed, bucked to be released.

“Hey, hey, hey!” a shadow loomed over you, completely blocking the harsh light above you. Blonde hair lightly brushed over your cheek. “Shh, shh, easy!”

Tears streamed down your face, the fire burning worse and worse. “Make it stop!”

“I know,” the shadow said. “I know it hurts, but you’re healing.”

The Doctor moved both your wrists to one of her hands so she could wipe your tears away and check the bandage. You had done some damage to the wrapping, and it had started to stain red.

The Doctor had to remind herself to keep calm. If she wasn’t then you could hurt yourself trying to get away. The Doctor had hoped that you would stay sleeping while the nanobots did their thing healing you.

Normally, the process wouldn’t really hurt, but it could cause some forms of irritation. In your case, since you were literally being stitched together from the inside out, it caused that severe burning.

“Just calm down,” she soothed. “Listen to my voice. You’re okay. I know it hurts right now but I promise that it will pass.”

You whimpered in response, still trying to tug your arms free, but you were too weak to make any real effort.

“I can get you something for the pain, but you can’t claw at it anymore, okay?” She asked.

You gazed up at the shadow again, it felt familiar to you, so you nodded, feeling like you could trust it. The Doctor released your hands, watching you to make sure that you didn’t try to tear at it again, and reached into the drawer nearby to pull out an injector. She showed it to you.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

You nodded almost immediately. Of course, you trusted the Doctor, even if you didn’t know that the shadow person in front of you was the Doctor. “Yes.”

The Doctor nodded and placed the injector to the side of your neck and squeezed. It was something close to nanogenes, but instead of healing you instantly like she wanted, they worked to stitch you up from the inside out, especially so close to your heart to make sure you didn’t unexpectedly go into cardiac arrest.

Your head twitched at the pinch you felt, but when you tried to ask you what it was you, your tiredness took hold. You whined; you didn’t want to sleep again.

“I know,” the Doctor started to say. “You’ll feel better soon.”

With your bandages redone and you softly resting, the Doctors attention drifted down to your hands. Your fingers were red, your blood slowly matting and dry, into your palms. It was no doubt uncomfortable on your skin, and the sight pulled at the Doctors hearts in the most uncomfortable way.

The Doctor grabbed a wet washcloth and carefully cleaned your hands. Her mind drifted away as she did her task. She couldn’t stop the sob that left her, and the cloth dropped to the floor. She brought her head down so she could press your hand to her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry.”

It was hours until you woke up again, groggy and disoriented. You couldn’t recall where you were and what happened. You felt stiff and groaned when a muscle in your leg pulled when you tried to stretch.

A warmth in your hand drew your attention. Familiar blonde hair and a light blue coat sat in a chair beside you, her hand, occasionally twitching, in yours

“D-Doctor?”

The Doctors head jerked up and met your hazy eyes. You could still feel the effects of the pain medication.

“Hey,” she whispered and gave your hand a squeeze. Her hearts skipped a beat when you gave a weak squeeze in return. “How are you feeling?”

You hummed and your head rolled to the side so you could look at the Doctor. “Am I dead?”

The Doctor shook her head, her eyes holding her uncontained sadness. “Of course not. You’re here on the Tardis with me.”

You frowned at that, trying to pull your thoughts together, but couldn’t think through the fog clouding your mind. Instead, you tried to sit up, but the Doctors hands grabbed your shoulders to gently push you back down on the bed.

“No, no,” she told you. “Don’t try to get up yet, you haven’t healed completely.”

“How am I … here?” you asked.

The Doctor sighed. “How much do you remember? Do you remember calling me?”

You tried to think. You remembered coming home and that someone was in your house and … oh.

A loud bang echoed through your memories and you jumped, suddenly sitting up and backing away from the Doctors hands, nearly falling off the bed. Your hand went to your chest where the second bullet had hit you. You could feel the slight indent under the bandage, and your breath left you.

“I-I-I,” you gasped, struggling to breathe.

“Shh, shh,” the Doctor soothed. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” She gently grabbed your hand and pulled it away from your chest, worried that you might start hurting yourself again, and laced your fingers together.

“T-There was a … g-gun,” you tried to get out.

The Doctor nodded. “You were shot, and you called me after.”

“T-The blood wouldn’t s-stop.”

A squeeze from the Doctors hand. “I knew something wasn’t right and I went to see you. When I found you, you were…” she trailed off, a sad pained look in her eyes. “I brought you back to the Tardis.”

“I didn’t … I’m … I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t…”

You couldn’t get it out. You couldn’t tell her how sorry you were that you were dying and that you wouldn’t tell her, how sorry you were that she had to find you as you were. She probably hates you now, hates that she had to waste her time bringing you back.

The Doctor didn’t say anything, just tugged gently on your hand until you had no choice but to shift closer to her and lean against her side. Your wounds protested with the movement, and you inhaled sharply. You hated this, this feeling of helplessness.

The Doctor carefully wrapped her arm around your shoulder to better support you, her other hand still held yours. You could feel her double heartbeats under you.

“I’m not mad,” she told you.

You looked up from you intertwined hands in shock. Her words confused you. How she knew what you were thinking, and how could she not be mad at you? “H-how?”

“You’re very easy to read,” she told you, running her thumb over your wrist. She could feel your still weak beating heart. “You mean so much to me, I was so scared when I found you.”

You couldn’t stop the tears at her words, you didn’t know which situation would be worse; the Doctor being mad, or the Doctor forgiving you so fast.

“I’m sorry,” you cried into her shoulder.

The Doctor shushed you, whispering gentle nothings in your ear until you calmed. You stayed in the Doctors embrace until your tears dried and both of you were just leaning into each other, taking in each other’s presence. You were still in pain, and the Doctor gave you another injection when she noticed.

“Are you getting tired?” the Doctor asked you.

She noticed that you were starting to nod off against her shoulder after a few hours. She couldn’t help the small smile on her face, her hearts giving a strong thump the longer she looked at you. You were alive!

“Just a little,” you admitted, sighing and relaxing fully into the Doctors body. “I think the pain meds are kicking in again.” “You should get some more sleep,” she told you, and untangled herself to help you lay back down. “Here. Slow, slow.”

You grunted, your wound flaring, and sighed when you head met the soft pillow under you. The Doctor pulled the blanket up over you and told you that she was just going to do some Tardis maintenance and if you needed her to give her a shout. She was just about to leave when you thought of a memory.

Call me whenever you need.

You grabbed the sleeve of her coat. The Doctor paused, turning to see your frightened eyes.

“Stay,” you said before she could ask what was wrong. “Please, stay.”

The Doctor nodded, moving to go sit back in the chair that she had been occupying during your recovery, but another tug of her sleeve stopped her.

“No,” you said again. You moved to the side of the bed, giving another tug. “Here. Please.” The Doctor’s hearts picked up. You wanted her to lay in the same bed as you. “I don’t want-”

“You won’t,” you cut her off.

The Doctor allowed herself to be pulled back towards the bed. She shrugged off her coat, tossing it onto the chair before sliding into the bed. When the Doctor settled under the blanket with you, you shifted and squirmed so you could lay on your side, facing the Doctor without kicking her or hurting yourself more.

“You should lay on your back,” the Doctor started to say. “It would be more comfortable for you.”

“Ever the Doctor,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I’m okay, I just want to lay like this for a bit.”

The Doctor didn’t say anything after that, and she turned herself over so the both of you were facing each other. It wasn’t until this moment that you saw how tired the Doctor looked. There were dark circles under her eyes, the whites tinted pink. Either from sleep deprivation, crying, or both, you weren’t sure.

You reached your hand out and ran a finger down her cheek. The Doctor closed her eyes under your touch and sighed, and she seemed to fully relax and sag into the pillow.

She took your hand and held it tight - as if afraid that if she let go you would disappear, and brought your clasped hands close. She placed a kiss on the palm of your hand before settling into a restful sleep.

Your face warmed at her actions, the skin on your hand tingled from her kiss. You tried to ignore it and closed your eyes to sleep, held the Doctors just a little bit tighter.

When you woke up the next morning you were surprised to see that the Doctor was still sleeping in your bed. You had honestly expected her to be already up and doing whatever it is that she does, so you guessed that she probably hadn’t been sleeping while you were unconscious. It was a rare sight to see the Doctor sleeping anyway. She was always claiming that Time Lords didn’t need as much sleep as humans, and you wanted to take this in while you still could.

The Doctors eyes opened not long after you woke, and you were mesmerized by the colour. You never really took too much notice of them - you knew what colour they were, but now being as close as you were, you were finally able to see the colours hidden underneath.

They weren’t just hazel. You could really see the mix of green and brown, and, surprisingly, little gold flakes that seemed to dance across her eyes. They almost reminded you of space and stars. You looked away before you would get lost in those colours, your face growing warm.

“Morning,” she said to you. “How are you feeling?”

You lifted your hand to where you knew the entry wound was, only to find it nearly smooth. “Better,” you told her. “It’s still sore, but good.”

“Good.” The Doctor got up from the bed and threw her coat back on. “I don’t want you doing anything to strain yourself. So, no adventures until you are 100%, alright?”

You mock saluted. “Yes ma’am.”

The Doctor took one of your hands, placing the other against the middle of your back, and helped you sit up. “Still okay?” You nodded, taking a sharp inhale when you felt a pinch of pain. When your feet touched the ground you sighed in relief, glad to no longer be laying down, but your joints ached and protested from disuse.

“You want to try standing and walking?”

“Yes please,” you said.

“Okay, just take it slow,” the Doctor told you.

Still with the Doctors help you slowly got to your feet. A sudden wave of dizziness hit you and your eyes blurred over, your knees giving out. Luckily, the Doctor was quick to catch you. Her arms wrapped around you, and she held you close.

“Hey, hey! Are you okay?”

You groaned and pressed your head into her arm to try to stop the pounding headache behind your eyes. “Yes, sorry. Just got dizzy for a minute.”

“You lost quite a bit of blood when … you know, so you’ll most likely have some dizzy spells for a bit. Do you want to try again?”

You blinked rapidly to get rid of the blur and nodded. “Yeah.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close the Doctor was to you - how warm she was. You cleared your throat awkwardly and stood up, with the Doctors help, and only wavered once before getting your footing.

“Good!” the Doctor praised, and you blushed.

“Can you help me to my room?” you asked. “I’d like to change,” you gestured to the hospital gown you had been wearing probably since the Doctor brought you to the infirmary.

“Oh, yes, of course!”

With slow careful steps, and the Tardis’s help of bringing your room closer, you and the Doctor reached your destination. “I’ll just wait out here for you.”

You nodded and shuffled your way inside. Your room was exactly how you left it, and you felt much better in this room than you did in your own house. There was a certain warmth to it that you couldn’t explain.

It would probably be better to wear something lose and easy to slip on, you thought, so you found a large hoodie and sweatpants to wear. You couldn’t help but look in the mirror at the damage. The bandaging was wrapped tightly around you, dried blood spots painted on.

Your face was pale and cold to the touch. You quite honestly looked like death, on the verge of life. You sighed and turned away from the mirror, unable to look at your reflection any longer, and shuffled back over to where the Doctor was. You wondered if she thought the same, that you nearly looked like a walking corpse, and your shoulders sagged at the thought.

“All good?” she asked when you came out. You nodded. “I bet you’re hungry,” she continued. “Let’s get you something.”

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. You were starting to feel stronger, and didn’t have many more dizzy spells. You could even walk without dragging your feet. Sometimes though, if you breathed too hard you would double over into a coughing fit, sharp pain attacking you.

The Doctor remained by your side the entire time, always there to catch you, to help you get your strength back. When you grew tired the Doctor allowed you go to sleep in your own bed, which you nearly cheered in joy for. You longed for your own comfortable mattress and not the thin stiff bed in the infirmary. Your back would thank you.

It almost felt weird though; sleeping in your own bed after however long it was that you stayed in the infirmary. When the Doctor walked you back to your room, she removed your bandage to see your progress, and you were surprised to see it completely healed. Only a faint scar remained, even though it had been just a few days since the incident.

“The scar will disappear soon,” the Doctor told you. “Then it’ll be like it never happened.”

“But it did,” you said.

The Doctors eyes turned sad, and she placed her hand on the side of your head, her thumb running over your temple. “The mind heals at a different pace. Try to fix it too fast and it crumples, but we’ll get through it, yeah?”

After that you and the Doctor hung around the Tardis for the day, she didn’t want to take you somewhere potentially dangerous and have something happen to you again, so you spent the day reading in the library or going to the surprise garden filled with many different kinds of flowers, both human and alien alike. They were beautiful and you made a note to come back to this spot, you found that there was something soothing about the garden.

When you noticed the “sun” starting to dim you made the walk to your room, saying goodnight to the Doctor with a yawn as you passed. Now, here you were. You laid on your back, staring up at the dark ceiling, and were wide awake. Your chest began to ache, your mind wandering to the incident. You rubbed your hand where the bullet once was.

Phantom pain you think it was called.

You scowled and threw the blanket over to try to go to sleep, you didn’t want to think about it anymore

That didn’t stop you dreaming it, however.

You were back in your house. The shooter held you at gunpoint, but it was different. He was more aggressive than you remembered, or maybe it was always like this.

“Please don’t,” you begged.

He didn’t say anything, just pulled the trigger. That familiar burn coursed in your chest. You fell to your knees gasping. Looking down, you watched your blood dye your shirt that terrible red colour. The shooter was now standing above you, his gun aimed right at your head. He never spoke before, that much you remembered, but when he opened his mouth to speak, icy cold fear ran through your veins.

“No one to save you now.”

He pulled the trigger.

You awoke with a scream, only seeing that terrible nightmare. Your chest tightened painfully, and you gasped for breath. Your door opened, but you didn’t notice it, barely feeling as the mattress dipped beside you.

“Hey, hey,” hands cupped your face. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

You struggled to get your breath back, instead trying to focus on something, anything, to make you forget your dream. Looking up through your tears, you saw the blurry shape of the Doctor, her thumbs wiping at your cheeks.

“You’re okay,” she said, her voice soft. “Just breathe, ready? In,” you tried your best to inhale along with the Doctor, but only managed broken sobs. “And out.”

It took a few times, and you weren’t sure how long it had been or what time it was. By the end you were finally able to calm down enough to breathe with the Doctor, only hiccupping every once in a while.

“Sorry,” you apologized, your voice weak as you pulled away from the Doctors hands. You already missed the contact. “Sorry if I woke you.”

The Doctor’s hands slowly dropped into her lap. “It’s okay, I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

She wouldn’t admit why she wasn’t sleeping, wouldn’t tell you that she couldn’t after her own nightmare the day before.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You looked up at her eyes, yours flickering between them. Your breath threatened to leave you again.

“How do I know…” you trailed off, now sounding unsure.

The Doctor tilted her head. “How do you know what? I can’t answer if I don’t know.”

You were quiet for a moment, then asked in a quiet voice. “How do I know that I’m not really dead?”

She didn’t reply after that. Maybe she didn’t know the answer, maybe you did die, and this was your afterlife. It wasn’t a bad one, you had to admit, to be stuck on the Tardis with the Doctor. You jumped when the Doctors hands cupped your face again, but this time she leaned in, and you sighed when the Doctors lips pressed lightly against yours.

“How did that prove anything?” you teased when you parted from the Doctor.

She laughed and leaned forward so your foreheads were touching. “Guess you’ll have to just take my word for it.”

You hummed. “Well, dead or alive, this isn’t a bad place to be.”

“Come with me,” the Doctor suddenly said pulling away and standing up from the bed, her hand outstretched for you to grab. You grabbed her hand and she pulled out from the bed and out of your room. The floor of the Tardis was cold under your feet as you followed the Doctor down the halls, but you didn’t mind. She led you to the front doors of the Tardis and opened them. The stars shone in the distance.

“Figured you’d like to take your mind off everything,” she told you.

She pulled you to sit down beside her and you both sat with your legs swinging out of the Tardis.

“I think this is the one view I’ll never get tired of,” you admitted, a smiling lifting on your face.

The Doctor hummed in agreement, but she wasn’t looking outside like you were, her eyes were on you. She watched as the various blues and purples lit up your face and brightened your eyes. It took the Doctors breath away. Neither of you were sure how long the both of you stayed there, but you didn’t really care very much. You simply enjoyed the view and the company the Doctor provided.

“Thank you,” you said.

“For what?” she asked.

“For helping me,” you replied turning your attention to look at her. “For saving me. For just being you.”

“Of course,” the Doctor smiled.

You stayed out there for a little bit longer until you had to try to hide a yawn.

“Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” the Doctor suggested.

You groaned and took the Doctors hand again so she could help you stand up. Your fingers interlaced and you walked side by side until you found yourself sitting on your bed again. The Doctor was about to leave when you called her name making her pause by the door.

“Can you stay with me again?” you asked her.

The Doctor was surprised. You wanted her to stay the night with you again?

“I just…” you started to fidget with your blanket. “You … you make me feel … safe. You help me forget, if it’s only for a moment, chasing away the bad memories.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

And like the night before, the Doctor shrugged off her coat, slipped off her boots, and crawled under the covers. You had already moved to the other side of the bed, giving her more room, and you laid on your side like you did before to just look at the Doctor.

“What is it?” she asked, laying down to mirror you.

You shook you head. “It’s nothing.”

“We’ll get you through this, okay?”

You nodded, although part of you wasn’t so sure.

“The nightmares are just a bump in the road, they won’t be there forever,” she continued to say.

“And if they are?”

The Doctor reached over to brush your hair behind your ear. “Then you’ll learn to overcome them.”

You grabbed the Doctors hand and, much like she had the night before, pressed a kiss to her hand and nestling closer to her, your head tucked under her chin and her arms held you close promising to protect you from any nightmares that came to haunt you.

“Goodnight, Doctor,” you said softly.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

~~~

“You cleaned.”

You had asked the Doctor to take you back to your house, back to where you were hurt. She insisted on coming with you this time and you agreed, you wouldn’t be able to go back inside by yourself.

“I couldn’t leave it how it was,” the Doctor replied.

You wandered into the room where you first found the shooter, the room had been absolutely destroyed; drawers flung open, items thrown across the floor, but you were shocked to see it was like nothing ever happened. Even the blood seemed to disappear. Your chest tightened when you remembered how much blood was on the floor, the red trail and the puddle that sat underneath you. So much red. You could still feel the phantom pain of the bullets hitting you, burning you, consuming you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

You vision was blocked by light blue and all you could feel, hear, and smell was the Doctor. You grasped the Doctors coat in a tight shaking fist.

“Sorry,” you spoke into her shirt.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Do you want to go outside?”

You nodded and let yourself be guided outside, near the comforting presence of the Tardis.

“I can’t…” you started to say.

“You don’t have to,” the Doctor told you.

“Can I just … Can I stay on the Tardis with you? I don’t think I can go back to that house yet,” you asked, a hopeful look in your eyes.

“Of course,” she assured you. “I told you that we’d get through this together, and if you don’t feel safe in your house right now then we’ll try again when you feel ready, yeah?”

You nodded, tearing up. “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.”

~~~

It took a few weeks. You spent the entire time on the Tardis with the Doctor, spending time with her and going on very small trips. Alien hot springs, festivals - very small fun things, and you loved every bit of it. You couldn’t help but tease the Doctor on how she actually could find things to take you to that didn’t involve running for your life.

“It’s not all me,” she would protest, almost offended at what you were saying. “It’s the Tardis! She just ignores what I want to do!”

“Sure, Doctor,” you laughed. “Sure.”

Nearly a month later, you told the Doctor you wanted to go back to Earth. You wanted to see your family again, and the Doctor felt slightly reluctant to let you go. She knew that you would eventually want to go back.

“I just want to spend the day with them,” you told her.

When the doors closed behind you the Doctor was suddenly very aware of how empty, and how big the Tardis actually was. She felt very … alone. The Tardis hummed down at her Pilot, reassuring her that you would be back.

“I know,” the Doctor said to the empty space.

The Doctor decided to do some console “repairs,” keeping herself occupied, even though she knew they were completely unnecessary. She laid underneath the console, pulling out wires and leaving a huge mess on the floor.

She continued this for a few hours, pausing when her phone started ringing on top of the console. The Doctor’s mind went back to the incident. She hesitated to pick it up, almost fearing for what was waiting for her on the other side. She slid from underneath the console, wiping the grease from her hands, and picked up her phone. She took a deep breath, answered in the middle of the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Doctor,” your voice greeted her.

“This better not be another goodbye call,” she threatened.

You laughed through the speaker. “Definitely not dying this time, I promise.”

“Good, great even! Because once was enough.”

You smiled even though you knew that the Doctor couldn’t see you. “I’m just letting you know that I’m on my way back.” The Doctor pulled the phone away from her ear to see that it was well into the evening, the entire day had passed. She put the phone back to her ear, looking at the mess she created. Wires and tools littered the ground, and she could have sworn she heard the Tardis laugh at her predicament.

“Fantastic! Wonderful! I’ll, uh, I’ll see you soon,” she trailed off in thought. How was she going to clean all this up?

“You’ve made a mess of the Tardis, haven’t you?”

“No, of course not!” she defended.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “You’d think a time travel spaceship would be able to repair herself if she needed to.”

Before the Doctor could reply the Tardis whirred and beeped an “I told you so!”

“Hey, no!” she told the machine. “Don’t take their side!”

You laughed at the argument. “Well, I’ll see you soon. Bye!”

The Doctor pocketed the phone after she gave her own bye. She glared at the time machine, who beeped innocently. “Don’t even start.” She warned. “Just help me put you back together.”

It didn’t take you very long to get back to that familiar blue box, feeling more at home the closer you got.

“Hey, girl,” you greeted. “Hope that Doctor wasn’t too much trouble.”

The Tardis opened the door for you in a “come on in and see.” You walked in, your jaw falling at the sight you saw. Wires and cables littered the floor. The Doctor sat in the middle of it, struggling to pull it all back.

“What did you do?” you laughed.

The Doctor jumped at your voice, dropping all that she had in her arms. “Oh! Me? Nothing! Well, I was doing some small repair and I tried to clean it all up, but someone…” She glared at the console. “Decided to be difficult.”

The Tardis let out a series of irritated beeps and a panel on the wall behind the Doctor suddenly dropped to the ground.

“Oi!!”

You couldn’t stop your laughter. You tried to hide it behind your hand, but the Doctor heard you and threw you a glare as well. There was no real irritation or anger behind it, but still, you cleared your throat and held your hands up to show you weren’t laughing at her. You were barely able to keep your smile down.

“Sorry,” you said. “Please, continue your little fight with the Tardis.”

The Doctor groaned, gathering the cables back into her arms and dragging it over.

“You want some help?” you offered.

“No, I’m fine” she dismissed.

“You sure?” you asked again, voice filled with amusement.

Before she could answer, the Doctor stepped on a tool. Her balance faltered, and the wires fell from her grasp. “Alright, fine.” Your smile grew as you walked up the steps to the console before running a hand over it.

You spoke to the Tardis. “Can you put yourself back together for us, girl?”

You received a warm hum in return as the console room started to fix itself. The panel that fell returned to its spot on the wall, the wires reattached themselves, and the cables snaked back under the console. The room looked as good as new.

“It pays to be the Tardis’s favourite, I think,” you winked at the wide-eyed Doctor.

The Doctor shook herself. “You’re not supposed to pick favourites!” she scolded the Tardis.

You laughed again and watched the Doctor move up to the console, turning her back to you and twisting her coat around her.

“So,” she clapped her hands together. “Where would you like to go today?”

Where would you like to go? A memory came to you, words of place you never thought you would be able to see. You smiled at her. “Soft beaches and waterfall clouds.”

The Doctor smiled back at you, her expression understanding. “Soft beaches it is!” You watched fondly as the Doctor moved about the console, flipping switches and levers until she stopped by the main lever and looked over at you.

“Together?” she gestured her to lever.

You grinned and ran up beside the Doctor, placing your hand on top of hers. “Together.”

#13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th Doctor #i am not good at this #lmaooo

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illfoandillfie · 2 years ago

Text

Okay this ended up so much longer than i planned oops skfksdjsd i think tumblr is having problems with the size so it wouldn’t let me post as a response to the ask so hopefully this works.

anyway, its set in the Taking Control universe because that is where dom!Ben lives. So there are a few references to Gwil but he’s like not involved in the smut, just benny boy. hope you like it!

warnings: sir kink, mild public play, semi-public sex, oral sex (m receiving), one lil cheek slap, a lot of dirty talk including degradation (specifically Whore), explicit photography, implied threesome, a bit of cumplay, uhhhhh i think thats it

It was easy to forget how dominant Ben could be on his own. When he was with Gwil, Ben would become either competitive or determined to keep up. Their versions of dominance would play off each other and it could almost seem like they were trying to outdo each other with what they came up with to do to you. So, when he was on his own it was easy to fall for his cute face and sweet talking and then, before you knew it, you’d not only agreed to go as his plus one to some acting industry event, you’d also agreed to go in a dress with a slit up the side specifically because he decided that’s what he wanted. You’d sent photos of a few options and he’d picked the one with the highest slit, reaching all the way up to your hip. It made you feel very flustered, and you made a not to yourself to buy a suitable pair of undies that wouldn’t show.

In the weeks leading up to the event Ben had let slip that Gwil would also be there and that he’d also approved your dress. You’d got the strong impression that they both intended to fuck you in it and the idea of ending the night like that was enough to make you squirm every time you remembered. By the time Ben arrived to pick you up you were turned on and excited to tease them a bit throughout the night. Maybe even act a little bratty when they took you home, just to see what they’d do. What you didn’t account for was Ben’s solitary dominance. He helped you into the back of the car and nodded to the driver that you were ready to go. “This is very nice,” “Well, we couldn’t go in just any old car. Look it’s even got a partition,” he pressed a button and a screen rose between the front and back seats. “You look stunning by the way.” “Thank you, you look pretty great yourself.” Ben smiled at the compliment, his fingers falling to your thigh where he toyed with the edge of the slit, “I think I made a good choice. Good girl for wearing what I told you.” Your breath caught, the praise unexpected. You’d known he’d been horny about the dress. You hadn’t realised it was an act of submission to wear it. But being called good and seeing just how much it pleased Ben made you feel a little subby. Ben’s hand slid up your thigh and under the dress, and you couldn’t help but look to the partition to make sure it was still up. “Don’t worry about him,” Ben said, his other hand coming up to tilt your head until your gaze was forced back on him, “You going to keep being a good girl?” You nodded, entirely forgetting your plans to tease. Ben was so charming and sweet that it made you want to please him, to do whatever he asked and earn his praise. “What would you say if I wanted you to take your knickers off?” “You mean...not wear any tonight?” “Exactly. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know it’s daunting doing that in public and we’ve never played like that before.” “But you want me too?” “I think it would be very sexy if you did.” His hand kept running over your exposed leg, “I like the idea of you being totally naked under your dress. And I like the idea of being the only other person who knows it. Just this dress separating your cunt from my hands. And who knows, if you were very lucky I might be able to touch you while everyone’s listening to whatever speeches there’ll be going on. Each sentence made your breath quicken until you were practically panting shifting your hips to try and get his hand to slip between your thighs. “Do you like the idea?” he asked, resolutely ignoring your clear desire. You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. “So will you let me take them off you?” “I guess it-” “I don’t want you to guess Y/N. I want to know you want this. You’ll still be good even if you tell me no. I can still make you plenty wet through your panties. But if you do want to, I promise I’ll look after you. It’ll just be our little secret.” You nodded then, his assurances convincing you. Ben grinned and awarded you with a deep kiss that made you glad you’d gone with a smudge proof lipstick. You moaned against his lips, and tried to extend the kiss when he sat back. “Uh uh,” he said softly, “we’ll be there soon and you’re still wearing knickers.” “So take them off me,” you said coyly, pulling back one side of the dress so he could see better. “I think you should do it.” He said suddenly, settling back in his seat, “Show me just how far you’ll go to be my good girl.” Now that the shock of his request had worn off and been replaced by a desperate need for more praise, you were quick to do as he asked. You tried to be enticing as you removed the garment, biting your lip as you slowly slipped them down your legs, making sure Ben could catch glimpses of your pussy. He watched hungrily as you took them off and then held out his hand for the item. “I’ll make sure you get these back later.” He winked, as he shoved them into a pocket. A second after the panties had disappeared Ben leaned forward and for one moment you were sure he was going to touch you, to reward you with some stimulation if not an actual orgasm. But all he did was tug your dress back into place, smoothing the fabric down, leaving you a little disappointed but even more determined to earn that touch.

Throughout the night you were constantly reminded about your lack of underwear. Ben was very attentive to you, getting you drinks and introducing you to various people that stopped to chat. But he was quick to tease you when no one was looking, pulling you towards the edge of the room so he could rub your arse and whisper about how it was taking all his control not to bend you over there and then. When you ran into Gwil he was very complementary about your dress, making sure that you knew how fuckable you looked in it. That alone was enough to fluster but Ben’s command to tell Gwil what had happened in the car almost made you whine and you were sure you were blushing as you leaned into Gwil’s ear to admit it. “If I’d know you’d be such a good slut I’d have invited you myself,” Gwil growled, clearly itching to raise you dress and see for himself. Unfortunately for him you were still very much in public and he was wanted elsewhere, someone behind you calling him over. He sighed a little but said to Ben, “keep her warm for me, I’ll come over to yours tonight.” Ben grinned and nodded a, “See you then.” as his hand wrapped around your waist tightly. Gwil took a moment to look you over and then, with the pretence of kissing your cheek, quietly whispered, “I’m going to spend the rest of the night thinking about fucking you in that dress. And I expect you to be as good for me as you have been for Ben.” “Yes Sir,” you whispered, all ideas of being bratty and pushing their buttons long forgotten. After that Ben got you new drinks and then lead you into the hall to find your seats for the presentation.

The speeches were probably alright. People seemed to be laughing at parts and generally enjoying them. But you barely heard a word. Ben’s hand was on you constantly. Sometimes just staying still on your thigh, but sometimes teasing the skin hidden by your dress. You never knew how far he’d go with each stroke, if he’d stick to the edge of the slit or if he’d delve closer to finding out how wet his teasing had made you. You didn’t know which way you wanted it either. The idea of him stroking your pussy in such a crowded room made you whimper quietly into your hand, but the idea of him not touching you there was devastating. You needed him to see how affected you were and reward you for it. But the speeches drew to a close and he’d still not actually found your cunt. You turned and pouted at him, trying to let him know that you wanted him to do what he’d threatened to without actually asking for it. Whether or not he picked up on your meaning, Ben grabbed your hand and tugged your up from the table. “Come with me,” was all he said, leading you from the room.

You followed him away from the crowd now moving back toward the bar, down a corridor and out a set of doors and down another corridor. Ben at least seemed to know what he was looking for, you just let him take you, hoping that you’d at least get an orgasm out of it. Finally, you made it to an empty room and Ben turned around to lock the door behind you. “Where are we, Sir?” you asked but had barely got the last word out when Ben pulled you into a kiss and you decided it didn’t matter, as long as you wouldn’t be interrupted. His hands were impatiently pushing at the skirt of your dress, working their way underneath the fabric so he could squeeze your bare arse and slide his fingers along your wet folds. Just feeling how turned on you were made Ben groan against your lips. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to touch you?” He gasped, “I’m so hard from thinking about this cunt. I wanted to know how wet you were but I knew if I found out I’d probably make a mess in my pants. Your little whimpers didn’t fucking help either.” “Sorry Sir,” you managed to say, trying to rub yourself on his hand, “I just really wanted you to touch me.” “Such a good girl for me. I think you deserve a reward.” “Please Sir,” “There’s only one question. Would you prefer to be on your knees or see me kneel?” You were torn. Your cunt was screaming at you to make Ben eat you out, to finally get that pleasure you’d been craving since he’d so easily taken control in the car. But your submissive brain was more in control and she just wanted to be praised again, to be good and obedient and to please her Sir. It was easy enough to talk yourself into it. It would feel very good to make Ben cum. Maybe even better than cumming yourself because it was unselfish. Proof that you could be whatever he wanted you to be. And he’d call you good for it. He might also call you a whore but somehow that was a good thing when he said it. He made you want to be a whore. And when you told Gwil about it later, he’d also call you good. And they’d reward you for it. “I want to suck your cock Sir.” Ben smiled at that, “Such a good girl for me.” You beamed at the praise and reached for his belt eager for more. “But you made one little mistake, didn’t you?” “I did?” “Mmhmm, what you really meant to say is that you want me to fuck your face. Isn’t that right?” “Oh!” you felt stupid for not thinking of it yourself and rushed to rectify your mistake before you got in trouble. “Of course sir. Please fuck my face.” Ben laughed and beckoned you forward to resume undoing his belt, “Fuck I love when you get this submissive. Gwil’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you later.”

Ben let you stroke him a bit to start though he was well and truly hard by then. But you loved feeling his cock in your hand and he was more than willing to give you that momentary pleasure. Soon through, you noticed the beads of precum forming at his tip and you were overwhelmed with the desire to taste him. You licked at his head, collecting the precum on your tongue, smearing your saliva over his skin, and ben placed his hand on the back of your head to keep himself steady. “Go on, whore, take me in,” Ben encouraged you as his need grew. “Yes, Sir, but one thing first?” You obliged as soon as he’d given the order, wrapping your lips around his head and working yourself down his shaft. Again, he let you go at your own pace for a time, knowing you’d need a moment to adjust to his size. You were in public after all and he didn’t want to push you too hard or do anything to draw unwanted attention. An idea occurred to him and he stopped you, groaning as he saw your disappointed pout. “One more thing Y/N,” he said before reaching over to unzip the back of your dress, “I know how much you drool over cock and we don’t want you making too much of a mess of this pretty dress. Plus now I can see your tits.” You laughed and thanked Ben, shimmying your shoulders a bit to emphasis your now exposed breasts. “Alright, whore, mouth back on cock, that’s it. Fuck feels so good already. Can’t wait to fuck you.” You whined, managing to take more of his shaft in your mouth. Ben just tried to focus on keeping his hips from bucking towards your face. A tough task when his cock was surrounded by the hot wet of your mouth and you kept making yourself gag as you tried to take him deeper and deeper. His mind drifted to your cunt and how easily you’d accept him there if he decided to take you right now. It was tempting. But then you gagged and he lost his focus, hips surging forward, cock pushing further into your throat. You gagged again at the sudden unexpected intrusion, but it sent a bolt of heat to your cunt and you couldn’t help but moan. Ben tugged you back with the intention of making sure you were okay but before he could so much as apologise you were kissing his shaft, a trail of wet open mouthed kisses from his base to his tip. “I’m ready,” you half whined, desperately seeking validation that you were giving him what he wanted. “Ready for what?” Ben asked, wanting to double check you knew what you were saying. “Ready for you to fuck my mouth Sir,” you emphasised the last word and rolled your eyes, impatience making you a bit bratty. But it was all the confirmation Ben needed. His grip on your hair tightened and he used it first to pull you back onto his cock and then to hold you still as his intentionally thrust into your throat.

For a while the only sounds were wet gags from you and grunts from Ben as he used you harshly, forcing you to take his length again and again. Every so often he’d break the silence by groaning about how good you felt, how well you were taking him. And then he pushed you down to meet his thrust, holding you in place with his cock in your throat so he could catch his breath. “God you’re a fucking whore,” he managed to pant, “begging me to fuck your face like this. Must be making you so wet. No,” you’d tried to pull back but he’d stopped you easily, “this is what you wanted so fucking take it.” He kept you there, on the verge on panicking, for another two second that felt so much longer. But then he did pull you back, grinning as you gasped for air and coughed a bit, saliva dripping from your lips. “Was that too much for the whore?” he said, tone mocking, as he tapped his cock against your cheek. You shook your head as much as you could in his grip. “Good because I’m not fucking done yet.” He gave your cheek a light slap before gripping your hair again and pushing you down his shaft once more. If your mouth hadn’t been occupied, you’d have been grinning. The way he was so clearly enjoying you, getting pleasure from you, made you feel all tingly and warm. “Should send Gwil a photo of you,” he grunted, “he’d love to know you were being so obedient already.” You moaned at the thought and so Ben dug his phone out of his jacket with one hand, still fucking into you. The flash of the camera went off and you felt as if you were suddenly twice as wet as you had been before.

Ben didn’t last much longer than that. The photo had clearly turned him on too. He managed to put his phone away again so his hands were both able to hold you in place as he railed into you. His thrusts were rough and uneven. You gagged unexpectedly again and again, unable to anticipate how deep he’d push or how fast he’d pull out. And then he was moaning, jerkily thrusting and cock twitching as he came. You felt some of it in your throat and tried to swallow what he’d released into your mouth when he’d pulled back a bit. But Ben wasn’t ready to let you up just yet, ordering you to open up so he could rub his cock along your cum covered tongue. When he finally pulled out entirely and told you to swallow, he noticed the mess. His cock was dripping cum and spit, and remnants clung to your lips too. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the underwear he’d confiscated earlier, using them to wipe his shaft and then your face, making sure you were clean of all evidence. When he was sure you were clean he helped you to your feet and righted your dress. It was very sweet and it made you even happier to have been able to pleasure him. He even handed you the lipstick and mirror from your purse so you could touch up your make up. And then, while you were examining your reflection, you felt it. The fabric of your dress shifted and you whimpered as the underwear swiped across your cunt. “Sir?” “I’m cleaning you up,” he said softly, pulling the underwear out so you could see the wet stain you’d made, “Love how wet you get from sucking cock.” His hand moved under your skirt again but without the underwear this time, just his fingers gently exploring your folds. For a moment you thought he was going to give you an orgasm right there and then, and you clutched his shoulder for support. But then he stopped, wiggling his wet fingers between you befor tasting them. You moaned at the sight and the feeling of the denied orgasm. “Are you ready to go home now?” “Yes Sir. Really really ready.” “And that’s why you’re our favourite whore,” he chuckled, once again fixing your dress. You felt yourself blushing at the reminder of Gwil and the photo Ben had taken. Ben suddenly seemed to remember too. “Why don’t you go down to the cars, Y/N. I'm going to find Gwil and tell him our whore is begging to be fucked. This photo should be enough to get him to leave too. He’ll be happy to know he won’t have to break you in at all tonight since I’ve already done it.” He laughed at your squirmy reaction, giving you a quick kiss. “Anyway, if he’s not ready to leave I’m more than happy to get things started without him.” You nodded, not sure how you’d manage to get down to the cars when your legs felt so like jelly. But before you could leave, Ben stopped you again. “One last thing,” he handed you the underwear he’d still be clutching. “When you get in the limo, put these into your mouth. I know there’s a partition but I think it’ll be safter if you’re gagged on the way home. Just to make sure the driver can’t here you.

#my writing #my blurbs #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #bday blurbs 2023

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mjolnir-steve · 4 years ago

Text

If You Love Me, Let Me Hear You

Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader

Word count: 8120 (Am I okay???)

Summary: Ransom and reader are idiots in love, but they haven’t told each other that yet. Ransom lets himself be vulnerable for the first time.

Warnings: soft!Ransom, explicit language, explicit sexual content (18+ only!!!!! - sprinkle of praise kink, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (m/f), vaginal fingering, mildly subby Ransom, squirting (oops), calling Ransom daddy but not full-blown daddy kink???), mention of loss of virginity, brief mention of insecurity in appearance, suggestive teasing, teeny bit of angst, too-sweet fluff bc I need it to survive... Please let me know if I missed anything!

This fic is extremely self-indulgent. I am plus-size, so I obviously wrote this envisioning myself as the reader. However, I kept the mention of size brief. I don’t think I’ve written anything hinting at race/ethnicity, so I really hope this is something all can enjoy.

Please see end for A/N. :) This is unbeta’d because I was afraid of chickening out of posting!!

Divider by @firefly-graphics!

You met Ransom Drysdale at an event at his grandfather Harlan’s estate celebrating the release of his latest novel. It was the first event you coordinated in your new position as Harlan’s assistant, and you were positive that everyone in the room could feel your anxiety rolling off of you in waves. In spite of your self-imposed “no alcohol at work functions” rule, you ordered an amaretto sour, figuring it wasn’t that strong, just syrupy sweet and enough to take off the edge. Ransom took one look at you from across the room and immediately decided you’d be going home with him that night. It physically pained you to say no to him, but you did, and for whatever reason, he didn’t give up. After a few weeks of showing up at the office and demanding your attention, he asked you on an actual date – out to dinner and a movie – and you said yes, unsure of what to expect.

Now you were waiting for Ransom to take you out on your first actual dinner date in ages. You’d been together for six months, but you could count the number of actual dates you shared on one hand. There had been three, and you slept with him after the third. You tried planning a few more after that, but those plans went out the window every time Ransom saw you all dolled up for him. He couldn’t keep his hands off you once you’d let him get a taste, and you didn’t mind that a bit; however, you did take issue with two hours of work on your makeup and outfit being smeared and discarded in a matter of minutes. So today, after breakfast, you insisted on celebrating six months together with a proper date.

“We can go to Dunkin’ for coffee and munchkins if you want, but we have to leave the bedroom at some point. I wanna celebrate!” You pouted a bit, sure that you looked ridiculous, but you had every intention of standing your ground. Good thing you had the kitchen counter behind you to back you up.

Ransom looked you up and down, his crystal blue eyes darkening to the prettiest navy. He put his hands on your waist, the cool metal of his pinky ring making you shiver as it came into contact with the sliver of exposed skin that managed to sneak out from underneath your sweater… Well, his sweater that he accidentally shrunk in the wash when you insisted he do the laundry himself for once. He leaned forward and kissed over your collarbone, up your neck, and stopped just below your ear, whispering, “But we already celebrated, pretty girl. You didn’t forget, did you? In the shower after we woke up…” He pressed into you, so close that you could feel him hardening against you.. “...on the couch while we waited for the scones to finish in the oven.” He nipped at your pulse point, and you hoped he didn’t hear your breath catch in your throat. “We can celebrate here in the kitchen right now...” He kissed you then, cupping your jaw with one hand and beginning to push down your shorts with the other.

You sighed into the kiss and you almost gave in, but you came to your senses in the brief moment when his lips left yours, lungs in search of air. You pushed him off of you and yelled, “NOPE!” He tried to cage you against the counter again, but you ran around the kitchen island, putting a ridiculous amount of solid marble between you. You held back a laugh when you realized how unhinged you must have looked holding the dough-covered rolling pin you used while baking this morning. “You buy me all these beautiful dresses and all this gorgeous jewelry, and I never get to wear any of it anywhere,” you said, a little too calmly while waving the rolling pin in his face, as if it were anywhere near as threatening as those knives in Harlan’s office. “Just a few hours. That’s all I ask.”

He put his hands up in defeat. You thought you’d won until he bit his lip and raised his eyebrow, and you knew you were in some kind of trouble since he reserved the single-eyebrow raise for those moments, the ones when he formulated his most sinful plans for you and your body. “Fine. Dinner is all about you, but what we do after? That’s all about me.”

You tapped your finger against your chin, pretending to think about it but knowing your pussy already agreed to this deal. Traitor. “Fair, I guess. If you sweep me off my feet at dinner, then we can do whatever you want when we come home.”

Ransom had started rolling his eyes at you, but his face visibly softened a bit when he heard you call his house home. He walked around the island and stood in front of you, smiling like an idiot when he leaned in towards you. He jerked backward with a soft chuckle, easing the rolling pin out of your hand and onto the tabletop before taking your face in both of his hands and giving you the sweetest, deepest kiss, like some kind of Disney prince. With a soft peck to the corner of your mouth, he pulled away from you enough to see your dumbstruck face, stroking your cheek with his thumb before kissing the tip of your nose. “What was that you said about sweeping you off your feet?”

His cocky grin burst the bubble you were floating in, and you quickly came back down to earth, lightly smacking his shoulder. “You’ll have to do more than that, Hugh.” Your laugh bordered on a cackle when his jaw dropped at your use of his given name, so formal that most people didn’t even know it. With that, you took the stairs two at a time and settled into your seat at the vanity he’d had built for you so you could get ready for what could be either the most romantic or the most heartbreaking night of your life.

Ransom always told you he didn’t think you needed makeup, but you weren’t going to let your extensive collection go to waste. You settled on keeping your base simple and going all out with a neutral smokey eye. You contemplated wearing red lipstick and decided against it, pressing your thighs together at the memory of how it stained the sheets last time you wore it, when he pounded you into the mattress, your screams and moans stifled by your pillow. You couldn’t seem to get your eyeliner right, and that’s when you realized your hands were shaking.

You were in love with Ransom, and you wanted to tell him tonight. Although your relationship wasn’t traditional by any means, you knew you had gotten closer to Ransom than anyone else ever had – members of his own family included. His demeanor was caustic at best, and your friends didn’t understand why you were with him, even though he treated you like a princess in public just as much as he did in private – maybe even more so, since he couldn’t let a second go by without reminding the world you were his. His family (apart from Harlan, and maybe his cousin Meg) loathed you and made sure you knew it, taking every opportunity to call you a gold-digger and pull Ransom away from your side to introduce you to some heiress or other.

Over the last six months, you and Ransom had shared almost as many heartfelt conversations as you did orgasms. He told you he loved to write, but he was too scared to try to publish. He feared Harlan would be accused of nepotism and he never would be able to make his own name mean something. After a few weeks, you confided in him that he was your first, and he was almost angry that you didn’t tell him beforehand so that he could’ve made it special for you. Then in typical Ransom fashion, he remarked, “I’m impressed you took all of me on your first try.” You gasped and smacked his cheek, feigning disgust and failing to hold in your giggles.

Another night, he told you that his mother Linda became “annoyed” with his childhood pet cat and gave it away one day while he was at school – that’s why he didn’t want another pet now, even though he lived in his own house. You shared that even though you were working on your master’s in publishing, you truly wanted nothing more than to be a stay-at-home mom one day, that you craved domesticity, having dinner on the table when your husband came home. He furrowed his brows at that. “Isn’t that, like, the opposite of feminism?”

You countered that it’s different when a woman stays home because she wants to do it, not because it’s expected of her. He said he would love to come home to you every day, whether you had dinner on the table or not.

Most recently, he shared that he started learning Spanish with Rosetta Stone so that he could take you on your dream vacation throughout all of Spain and not be embarrassed. He blushed and the conversation ended there, with you kissing him so hard he regretted not telling you sooner.

You chose a black midi dress Ransom bought you two months ago for your birthday. It was long-sleeved and not too low-cut. It fit you perfectly. The material was soft and slinky, but not so much that it would give away the surprise underneath, a lacy matching set you knew he’d love.

You always worried about your tummy in outfits like this, but you knew Ransom would worship you no matter what you wore (or didn’t wear, for that matter). He reminded you, enthusiastically and repeatedly, that he wanted his hands full of your body. The first time he begged you to sit on his face – yes, Hugh Ransom Drysdale begged for something – you told him you were afraid you would suffocate him.

“1. That’s practically impossible, sweetheart. 2. I can’t imagine a better way to go. About to cum with my mouth full of you and my head in between your perfect thighs? Murder me. Fucking do it. I’m telling Harlan to use this in his next book.” Cheeks warming at the memory, you finally slipped on your favorite strappy burgundy heels and walked downstairs, more anxious than you’d ever been, afraid you wouldn’t be able to stomach the food at dinner.

If Ransom’s jaw could have been on the floor, it would have. The same could be said for you, taking in the sight of your godlike boyfriend. His dark hair was carefully coiffed away from his face, drawing attention to his long, even darker eyelashes. So unfair. He wore a pair of gray wool slacks, pressed to perfection, with black bit-loafers and a burgundy sweater which emphasized how flushed his own cheeks were at the moment. His sweater matched your shoes exactly, and you marveled at how he always read your mind. He took your hand, helping you down the last few steps, and twirled you around once you reached the bottom. He spun you in close to him, and like something out of a movie, he revealed the bouquet of pink peonies he’d been hiding behind his back and dipped you, dropping a short kiss to your lips. “Happy anniversary, baby.” He pulled you back up against him, kissing you again and somehow managing not to crush the flowers.

You thought you might say it right then and there, but he left you both speechless and breathless. Everything he was doing and saying indicated he felt the same, but you were still so afraid he didn’t, all too aware of how guarded he could be. You opted to enjoy the evening a bit before potentially dropping a bomb you wouldn’t be able to defuse. “Ran, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You kissed his freshly-shaven cheek, giggling as he tried to get you to kiss him on the lips instead. You couldn’t resist, and you let him kiss you until you felt his tongue attempting to gain access to your mouth. “Enough. We’ll never leave at this rate,” you chided, kissing him on the cheek once more before turning around to look for a vase. You were shocked to find he’d already left a vase filled with water on the counter. How had you failed to notice that, and why was he being so thoughtful, so charming?

Little did you know, Ransom was questioning if he was doing too much? Not enough? He hoped you wouldn’t notice his hands shaking as he took the flowers back from you, quickly trimming the stems and arranging them neatly in the vase. He had watched Fran do it at Harlan’s several times, and he hoped he was doing it right and not killing them. He noticed you watching him and could feel himself blushing for the second time in as many minutes. Your attempts to look away from him were futile, your eyes involuntarily fixed upon the way his thick thighs and round ass filled out his tailor-made slacks. You nearly got on your knees, but this date was your idea, after all. Instead, you opted to take the vase from him and move it to the windowsill. “You never did say where we’re going, Ran.”

It took everything in him not to spoil the surprise, that he reserved your preferred table at your favorite restaurant the next town over. You regularly ordered takeout from there, but Ransom had never actually been, so even he was looking forward to going. He also arranged the menu beforehand knowing if he didn’t, you would spend entirely too much time trying to make a decision and not enough time letting him make you laugh. He even asked them to make your favorite cake for the two of you since he knew it always sold out earlier in the day. He smiled at you, and you knew he had no intentions of telling you where he was taking you.

“It’s cute that you think the grandson of a mystery writer wouldn’t keep you in suspense..” He winked at you, moving to open the door for you. Biting back a smile, you rolled your eyes as you walked past him. He locked the front door quickly, wanting to get ahead of you and open the passenger door of the Beemer. Ransom was always softer with you than he was with anyone else, but he was taking it to the next level tonight. He was never cruel to you like he was to his exceedingly vicious family, but he also didn’t shy away from the odd sarcastic response. If anything, he was only guilty of teasing you, most often when you were begging him, sexually or otherwise. He hoped you had no idea how the butterflies in his stomach that first appeared when he saw you walking down the stairs were currently conspiring to make him vomit out of the sheer panic he felt, sure that he was about to royally fuck this up.

Ransom was in love with you. This was the first time he ever felt so strongly about anyone, and it made him sick because he felt undeserving of you. He wasn’t sure he even felt love for his family, apart from his grandfather. He had dated before you, but he wasn’t one for relationships, definitely not exclusive ones. But there was something about you, and he knew from the second he spotted you at that release party six months ago that he wouldn’t be able to live without you. He was drawn to you immediately. At first, he thought he just wanted to fuck you, but you turned him down when other women would have fallen to their knees. Normally, rejection would have pissed him off, quickly moving on to the next pretty thing to catch his eye. To his surprise, he found himself wanting to get to know you - the sex would just be a bonus.

You had him wrapped around your finger after one date, totally whipped after two, and you didn’t even know it. Then you spent the night with him after your third date, letting him take you apart with his mouth, his fingers, his cock, and he asked himself what it would be like to have you every night for the rest of your lives. And later, when you told him he was your first? Initially, he was disappointed, even upset, that you didn’t give him the opportunity to be more gentle, more careful. He got past that quickly enough when he realized it turned him on a lot, not because he was a perv who relished ruining virgins or some shit like that, but because you wanted him enough, trusted him enough, to share that experience with him. His family barely trusted him to remember to feed his grandfather’s dogs, and you were willing to give him your body, letting him be the first and only person ever to make you cum and you let him do it about five more times that night.

All of this led Ransom to this moment, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he reversed out of the driveway. He wanted to tell you how he felt; you deserved someone who could give you that, shouting it from the rooftops by day and whispering it in your ear by night. He was in near agony, frightened to say those three words for the first time to a person and not his favorite sweater or his car, unsure if you felt the same. He wanted to believe you did, that this wasn’t just some sort of weirdly intimate exclusive fuck-buddy set-up where you didn’t actually want him as much as he wanted you, all of you. It had only been six months, and he was wildly inexperienced in the emotions department, but the way he craved you assured him that there was no way he could ever let you go. With all of that on his mind, he wasn’t certain he’d be able to tell you tonight, but he sincerely wished with all of his liquor-soaked heart that he could show you, at the very least. You could sense that he was lost in his own head and reached over to lace your fingers with his, pulling his right hand down to rest in your lap. He looked at you for a moment and gave you a tiny, shy smile, quickly returning his eyes to the road.

You squealed when Ransom pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, thankful that you chose to skip lunch, both to leave room for dinner and to avoid feeling sick with nerves. Ransom walked around to open your door and offered you his hand to help you out of the car. “I don’t believe I actually told you how breathtakingly stunning you look tonight. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He kissed your hand that he was still holding as you smoothed your dress with the other. He shut the door behind you and moved to take your arm in his to walk you inside.

“You didn’t. I must look good if I somehow rendered a Thrombey speechless,” you grinned .He laughed at that, kissing you on the cheek. You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you? Have I made you soft, Drysdale? It’s been thirty minutes and you haven’t even cursed.” You smiled at him, eyes crinkling with amusement. He panicked for a moment before he realized you were only teasing him. He really thought for a moment that all of his efforts were for naught, that you thought it was overkill.

He tried to play it cool, leaning forward to bring his lips to your ear. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “I’m saving that for when we get home from this expensive-ass date, baby.” The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, straight to your core. You’d be lying if you said your panties were still dry. He moved back, grabbing both of your hands and looking at you with a bright smile and a wink. You laughed and closed the distance between you, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks and kiss him, innocently at first. You turned it into an almost-messy, open-mouthed, tongue-filled kiss, ending it with a quick peck before it got too out of control. He looked wrecked already, cheeks flushing (again) and chest slightly heaving. Perhaps it was a not-great decision on his part in wearing his grey slacks since you could see the outline of his soon-to-be painfully obvious erection forming. He let out a deep breath and took your hand in his, walking you into the restaurant.

Dinner was perfect, and the conversation between the two of you flowed as easily and sweetly as your favorite wine of which Ransom had ensured there’d be plenty. When you’d finished your meal, though, he seemed distant, sending the odd text and checking his phone in a way that was anything but discreet. The waiter asked if you were ready for dessert and you requested a moment to decide.

You reached across the table and put your hand over Ransom’s, imploring him to put down his phone. “I’m not sure if you’ve already arranged dessert, but I made you something at home if you don’t mind taking this to go?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t quite discern his expression. He bit his lip, looking down toward his phone, and you realized he was nervous as he quickly sent another text. You scooted toward him in the rounded booth, lightly placing one hand on his thigh and gently squeezing his hand with your other. “Is everything okay, Ran?”

He placed his other hand on top of yours and smiled at you, but his voice was uncharacteristically shaky when he spoke. “Everything’s perfect. I just have another surprise for you at home that’s being set up while we’re here. I wanted to make sure it’s all done before we get back. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He kissed you on the cheek, his gentleness bewildering you further. “Dessert at home sounds great.” He asked the waiter to wrap up your leftovers, including the cake you hadn’t yet tasted. After placing a rather large wad of bills on the table, he stood up and extended his hand to you to help you to your feet.

“So when you said you made dessert… Did you mean actual dessert, or was that a euphemism for sex? Because I’ve been rock hard since that kiss on the way in, and I think I deserve a reward for not simply having my way with you in the restroom.” Ransom looked at you from the driver’s seat with wide eyes, hopeful yet suggestive, as he lifted your hand to kiss it with his perfect pink lips.

You smirked at him then, making the decision to toy with him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You moved your hand still entwined with his down to his lap, gently applying pressure where he so desperately craved it. Satisfied with the clipped moan that slipped from his mouth, you continued, slowly, barely rubbing him through his pants. “I do appreciate that, though – that you kept your hands to yourself like that, handsome.” You felt his hand squeeze yours, and you knew it was taking everything in him not to pull over and fuck you on the side of the road. You could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties. Maybe it was a bad idea, but emboldened by the way he was reacting to your words, you decided to push him even further. You leaned over and gently pressed your lips to the side of his neck, purring in his ear, “Only good boys get to have dessert, and you’ve been so good for me tonight.”

You’d begun to suspect your boyfriend had a bit of a praise kink a few weeks ago when you jokingly called him a good boy after he proudly informed you that he did all of the dishes by hand and didn’t use the dishwasher or leave them for the maid. The words left your mouth, and his pupils dilated before he quickly cleared his throat and left the room, so you decided to hold onto that card and play it the next time you really wanted something from him. Tonight was that night. You actually did make dessert for him, and you wanted him to at least see it before he locked the two of you in the bedroom for the night. He turned his whole body to look at you like he just won the fucking lottery, and you felt the car accelerate the slightest bit. Using your free hand to pinch his chin, you directed him to face forward once more. “Eyes on the road now, Ran.”

Ransom practically ripped the keys out of the ignition when he pulled into the driveway. The second you unbuckled your seatbelt, you thought he might tear the passenger door off the hinges as he reached in to scoop you up bridal-style. He kicked the door closed and started running toward the house with you in his arms, holding on tightly to his neck and squealing in excitement. He stopped in front of the door and adjusted the way he held you, wrapping your legs around his waist and supporting you with one arm as he scrambled to turn the key in the lock. The front door closed with a slam that surely shook the house as he made his way toward the stairs up to his bedroom. Was it your bedroom, too? Your own apartment essentially served as a storage unit at this point. You shook your head to yourself. You could think about that another time.

You came to your senses when you heard the creak of the first step under Ransom’s foot. “Wait, Ran, put me down!”

He stopped with one foot in mid-air, ready to take the next step. He pressed his forehead to yours, whining, “Whaaat, Y/N? You’re torturing me, beautiful.”

You tried to soothe him, scratching through the hair at the back of his neck as you warily placed your feet on the ground. “I really did make dessert for you, Ransom,” you pouted.

Of course you made dessert, Ransom thought. You were perfect in every way, and every single thing you’d done that day replayed in his head, reminding him that this had to be too good to last, that you were too good for him. Without thinking, he clapped his hand across his face, dramatically stretching his features downwards. “Can you at least let me blow your back out first? I’m in pain over here.” He waved his hands around in the vicinity of his glaring boner, looking like an air traffic controller. He’d made up his mind that you certainly would not stick around if and when he worked up the courage to say those three words, those eight letters, that made his stomach flip in truly unbearable discomfort, so he was on a mission to feel you around him, on top of him, underneath him one last time.

To his surprise, you scrunched your nose at him in the adorable way you always did when he made an overtly sexual comment. You reached out for his hand and led him to the kitchen. “Just let me show you before we go upstairs. I don’t mind if we eat it later, but I’m proud of this one. I made it just for you, honey.” Ransom knew you loved to bake. In fact, one of his favorite things was watching you sing and dance around the kitchen as you experimented, sugar, butter, flour everywhere. He wondered to himself when you had time to make dessert without his noticing. “Close your eyes for a sec. No peeking.” He watched you spin around toward the fridge before he covered his eyes with one large hand, the other resting on the countertop. “Open.” If your smile were any wider, your face would have split in half.

Ransom raised an eyebrow at the dish before looking back at you. “Cheesecake? What’s on top?”

You let out a deep breath. “Okay, so…” You tried to channel Vanna White, showcasing your creation with dramatic hand gestures. “I present to you… brown sugar bourbon cheesecake with… Drum roll, please, Ransom.” His cackle was cut short by the realization that you were completely serious. He did as you instructed, moving towards you to tap your hips in place of a snare drum. “... Biscoff cookie crust. I crumbled some on top, too. I snuck down here after you fell asleep last night so it would have plenty of time to set.”

Ransom felt the sting of tears in his eyes and quickly lowered his head to blink them away before you could see. He couldn’t imagine what he ever did to deserve you, this beautiful woman in front of him who found the most thoughtful, unbelievable ways to make him feel so special. In that instant, he let himself believe that maybe you loved him, too. Why else would you sacrifice your own sleep? Why else would you work so hard? Remember his favorite things and venture to find some way to combine them into what would, no doubt, be the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten besides you? This night was chipping away at his walls to the point where they might crumble, and for the first time, he thought maybe he was okay with that.

He hugged you then, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. He peppered kisses all over your face, ending with an unexpectedly sweet kiss to your lips. You thought you saw tears glistening in his eyes, but you didn’t say anything. “Thank you so much, baby. This is so thoughtful. You’re too good to me.” Something shifted in the air between you two, and you could tell he was not going to cut a slice of the dessert anytime soon, so you turned around in his arms to put it away. He leaned over you, growling in your ear from behind, “I can’t wait to share some with you in our bed.” He kissed your shoulder and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, unknowingly answering your earlier question as to whether or not the bedroom was yours, too. The warm sensation in your chest was almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want it to go away.

You placed the dish in the refrigerator and shut the door, turning around in his arms. “Now,” you hiked one leg up on his hip, “I believe you said something about blowing my back out, honey.” His hands moved down from your waist to support your ass, prompting you to wrap your other leg around his narrow waist, your arms around his thick neck, decidedly your new favorite method of transportation.

Ransom took the stairs two at a time, anxious to see how Fran and Marta did with his request. “Close your eyes for me, baby?” He kissed your forehead, lips lingering for a moment as he watched your lashes flutter before he opened the bedroom door.

He smiled when he opened the door, taking in the view and the sweet scent of all of the candles and flowers. He texted Marta and Fran while you’d been getting ready, asking if they could pick up several dozen roses and candles to decorate the room before you got home from dinner. Neither of them ever had considered Ransom to be so romantic and were more than willing to help when he mentioned it was your anniversary. He smiled, satisfied with the job they’d done, making a mental note to Venmo them double what he sent initially.

Ransom placed you down on the floor, holding onto your waist from behind and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Open.”

You couldn’t believe how beautiful your bedroom looked, covered in red and pink rose petals and bathed in the warm glow of the candlelight. “Oh, Ransom,” you gasped. You looked around for another moment, noticing the bed was made with the new duvet and sheets you’d been looking at online a few weeks ago. “This is too much.”

He turned you around to face him and kissed you, short and sweet. “Baby, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do enough for you.”

You looked up at him and smiled, eyes shiny with tears yet to fall. “I thought dessert was supposed to be all about you?” You placed your hands on his chest, relishing the feel of his heart beating faster at your touch.

“This is for both of us.” Smooth as ever, he reached behind your back to unzip your dress. “You get the girly, dreamy set-up, and I get to admire how sexy you are in this light.”

Your dress dropped to the floor and he helped you step out of it, picking it up and neatly laying it over the back of your chair. You were already wet, and this simple act of taking such care with you, with your clothes, only ruined your panties further. You stood with your hands on your hips, slightly flexing your biceps forward to maximize the appearance of your cleavage.

“Are you implying that I’m not sexy in other lights, Ransom?” You bit your lip so he’d know you were just playing, afraid to tease too, too much since he seemed so on edge.

His mouth hung open wide as he looked you up and down, arms reaching forward to run his hands up and down your sides before resting low on your hips. Ransom stepped back and took one of your hands in his, using his other hand to prompt you to turn around for him before pulling you in for another kiss. “That is actually the exact opposite of what I’m thinking, pretty girl.” He continued admiring you, sneakily slipping his fingers beneath the waistline of your panties. “You know this color on you drives me crazy, right?”

You smiled and nodded as he moved his fingers lower, gathering your wetness with a feather-light touch that made you pant. He groaned when he easily slipped two thick fingers inside you and met no resistance, a fresh rush of your slick leaking down his hand.

“Well, fuck me. Jesus, baby.” You whimpered at the loss of his fingers, but your eyes widened as you watched him suck on his fingers, lapping your juices from his skin. When he was finished, you pressed the length of your body to his, backing him into the wall behind him.

“That’s the goal, daddy.” You felt his cock twitch in his pants as you tightened your fingers in his hair, forcing his mouth open with a gasp, granting your tongue access to taste yourself on his lips.

You never thought you would address a man other than your father as daddy until you were with Ransom. He was your first and only, so when he commanded that you “cum all over daddy’s cock” the first time you slept together, you did just that. From that point forward, you only ever called him that in bed, figuring it was just what he liked. It wasn’t necessarily your kink, but pleasing Ransom definitely was. Whether or not you were in the bedroom, it was a surefire way to get what you wanted.

Six months later, here you were, confidently sinking to your knees and unzipping his tented slacks. You were so nervous the first time you offered to suck your boyfriend off, but he was understanding, assuring you it was okay if you weren’t ready. His tenderness only motivated you, and you probably should’ve known then that you held his inexperienced heart in your hands.

Still pressed against the wall, Ransom gazed at you with a mix of lust and adoration, in disbelief that he managed to find you and that you willingly stayed with him. He let out a thin wheeze as you finally rid him of his briefs, planting a kiss below his belly button before your lips traveled south. “Baby, please, I need you.”

You smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh. “Who’s got you so needy tonight, daddy?” you whispered as you nipped along his perfectly defined Adonis belt. He pulled his sweater off in a frenzy, the sight of his naked form causing your walls to clench around nothing.

“You, pretty girl. Always you. Only you,” he whined, reaching down to cup your cheek as your eyes met his.

Ransom already looked gone, eyes hooded and sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest. You weren’t sure how long you’d last, and he’d barely touched you yet.

You hummed in response, then kissed the leaking head of his cock before swallowing the length of him. You bobbed your head back and forth, taking him as deep as you could. His moans grew higher in pitch with each movement inside your throat, and you squeezed your thighs together to relieve the ache between them. His hips bucked forward of their own accord until you brought a hand to his tummy, holding him still. You pulled off of him with a wet pop, a noise that in any other situation might gross you out but only served to turn you on further while you were on your knees.

“Patience, daddy.” You rose to your feet, kissing your way up his body. You leaned on him for support as you removed your heels. Once you were finished, Ransom surged forward, capturing your swollen lips with his, frantically licking his way inside your mouth, inevitably tasting himself on your tongue. You feverishly kissed him back, providing the closeness he needed to reach around and undo the clasp of your bra. He managed to toss your bra onto your vanity before ducking his head to pay your pebbled nipples some well-deserved attention. You cradled the back of his head, carding your fingers through his hair as you pressed his face to your tits.

Another wave of arousal damn near gushed from your core, prompting you to put an end to Ransom’s ministrations. “Take me to bed?”

Ransom squeezed your ass before giving it a quick tap. You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist while he laughed at your enthusiasm, laying you down in the middle of the bed before removing your completely-drenched panties.

“I’d venture to say this is the wettest you’ve ever been, baby.”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks in response to his comment. “Well, what are you waiting for?” You grinned at him before pulling him down on top of you, eager to feel him inside you at last.

“Baby, slow down,” he gasped, breath ragged. He kneeled over you, reaching for the nightstand where he kept the condoms. You grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his open palm. Ransom inhaled sharply, waiting for you to speak.

Although your pupils were blown, your eyes were soft, searching his face. “I just wanna feel you, Rans–”

Ransom’s brows rose high on his forehead, but in what emotion, you were unsure. Now you were afraid you’d done something wrong, even though you didn’t do it on purpose.

“–I mean, daddy. Please.” You searched his face for any indication of what he was thinking, but he was giving you nothing.

Ransom was overwhelmed. No one had called him by his actual name during sex ever. Even his first girlfriend stuck to calling him “baby” or “handsome” after he clapped a hand over her mouth when she started to say his name. Once he was a bit older, he preferred “sir” or “daddy”. But then you came along, thawing out the block of ice in his chest where his heart always was meant to be. And you were telling him to fuck you raw? Another thing he’d never done with anyone else, wanting to be somewhat safe since he used to sleep around so much.

“Please say something,” you murmured, bringing him back out of his own head.

He leaned down, cupping your cheek and pressing his forehead to yours. “Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” he prodded, voice laced with warm concern.

“I’m so sure.” You stroked the apple of his cheek with your thumb, smiling when he relaxed at your touch. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been with, and you haven’t been with anyone besides me in all this time.”

The corner of his mouth turned upwards, showing off one of his dimples that would make you weak in the knees if you weren’t lying down already. “But you’re not on birth control, baby. Please don’t feel like you have to do thi–”

Pulling his face to yours, you kissed him hard. “–No, I’m not, but I’ve been tracking my cycle. We should be fine.” His eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him once more. You waited for him to open his eyes so you could look into them.

“I trust you.”

Ransom looked like the heart-eyes emoji; he had never heard those words in his life – not from family, not from friends. He kissed you again, sloppily, hungrily.

“If you change your mind, promise you’ll tell me?”

“I won’t change my mind, but I promise.”

Another kiss, gentler this time, made your head spin. It was different from any other kiss you’d shared, emotional and full of something you were hesitant to name. He lined himself up with your entrance, coating himself in your slick before pushing into you slowly.

“OhmyfuckingGOD,” he hissed as you adjusted to his thickness, your walls involuntarily tightening around him. “You feel so amazing, baby. I’m not gonna last long. Fuck.”

The sensation of his cock inside you was similar to the usual, but so much more intense. Ransom began to move, and you could feel each vein dragging against you with every thrust. Open-mouthed kisses along your throat left you panting. You were a pliant, fucked-out mess as he moved his hips with more intention, his tip hitting the spot that made you see stars.

“Ransom, please,” you screamed as one thrust in particular had you arching your back, pushing your chest into his.

Your eyes flew open as you tried to assess the damage you’d done. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Ransom slowed his pace. “Don’t be sorry, pretty girl.” He kissed your tears away as quickly as they came. “I’ve never let anyone call me by my actual name in bed before.” He smiled sweetly at you as he continued moving inside you, each stroke somehow more tender than the last. “Say it again, Y/N. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

You cried out as he began to circle your clit with his thumb. “You are, Ransom. Always. Make. Me. Feel. So. Good.” He punctuated each word with a perfectly-angled thrust.

You were so fucking close, and Ransom began to lose his rhythm, not far behind you. “Please, Ransom, make me cum.” You sounded pathetic, needing your release in the worst way. His hips snapped violently against yours, pushing you up the bed.

“Louder, baby. Scream my name when I make you cum.” Using his index and middle fingers together, he rubbed your clit harshly at lightning speed, making you choke on air as you fell apart.

His name left your mouth like a wail, volume so high that, if he had neighbors, they’d probably call the cops. Ransom continued fucking you through it, losing all control at the feeling of you squirting all over him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Ransom moved to pull out of you, planning to finish on your chest, but you crossed your legs behind him, pulling him right back in.

“Baby, please, I need to cum.” He pressed his face into your neck as he struggled to delay his climax.

Hugging him tightly, you kissed the top of his head before pushing him up to his knees, straddling him. “I know, baby, I know. I want you, all of you. I always will.” You snaked a hand down his back to grab at his ass, urging him impossibly deeper inside you. “Come on, Ransom. Please give it to me.”

He came with a roar, biting into your shoulder. The feeling of his cum filling you up was unlike anything you’d felt before, but not unwelcome by any means, and triggered another orgasm of your own, milking him thoroughly. You held each other, sobbing wordlessly as you came down from your simultaneous highs, eventually collapsing in a puddle of loose limbs.

You weren’t sure if minutes or hours had passed, you were so out of it, floating on the most blissful cloud. Ransom began to stir, kissing from your chest to your collarbone, from your throat to your jaw, before finally ending once again at your lips. You winced as he pulled out of you, the feeling of his spend leaking from your core unfamiliar and a little unpleasant. Ransom laid next to you, tucking your head under his chin and folding you into his embrace.

“Ransom?”

He smiled sleepily, unable to get enough of your voice saying his name with so much affection. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He held you tighter.

“Why did you let me say your name tonight?”

He shuffled down to face you, lifting your chin with his finger. He figured it was now or never.

“Because I love you, Y/N. You’re the only person who’s ever believed I could be a good man. You encourage me to be the man I want to be, not the man you want me to be or the man everyone else seems to think I should be. You’ve never tried to change me. I’ve only changed because I wanted to. I wanted to be better for you.”

You felt tears spilling down your cheeks, now that your boyfriend had confirmed you had nothing to be afraid of, after all. He felt the same way, and your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.

“And you make me happy,” he continued. “I love your laugh and the way you somehow always know what I want for breakfast. I love how you sing in the shower, then pretend you didn’t. I love how you let me be the little spoon on my bad days and when I’m drunk. I love that you read to me when I can’t fall asleep. I love your heart and your mind and your laugh. Everything. I love everything about you.”

The terrified look on Ransom’s face didn’t last long. It couldn’t – not when you were rolling on top of him to pull him into your millionth kiss of the night.

“I love you, too, Ransom. So fucking much. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long now.”

The two of you held each other and cried, in need of emotional release following such an intense physical one.

With another peck to your lips, Ransom untangled himself from you, going to the en suite bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean you up. His touch was soothing, careful around your most sensitive areas. He discarded the cloth in the hamper before leaving the room again. You wondered where he went, but you could hardly keep your eyes open.

A few moments later, you felt something cold against your mouth. Opening your eyes, you found Ransom sitting next to you with a plated slice of cheesecake, holding a fork up to your face. You laughed, sitting up before taking a bite.

“I really outdid myself, didn’t I?”

“Absolutely, baby. This is fucking incredible.”

You brushed a crumb away from the corner of his mouth. “I think we should make post-orgasm cheesecake a permanent thing.”

Ransom placed the now-empty plate on his nightstand, getting under the covers with you. “I know we should make it a permanent thing.” He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your back.

“I love you, Ransom. I hope we’re a permanent thing,” you whispered into his chest.

He looked down at you before kissing the tip of your nose and holding you tighter. “I love you, too, pretty girl. I know we’re a permanent thing.”

A/N: This fic is actually the reason I started this blog. I used to write fic years ago and stopped writing, fic or otherwise, for quite some time. Earlier this year, I started to venture into reading fic again and found some incredible authors here. I had submitted these asks (1, 2, 3) to Christy (@chrissquares), knowing she loved Ransom as much as I do, and her responses inspired me to create a new blog and get back to writing.

I’ve been working on this since the end of May when I sent in these asks, and I think this is as ready as I’ll ever be to share it. Thank you so much for the inspiration, Christy! I’m so happy to be writing again, and I hope people can enjoy this (much longer than planned) story. 🥺

As always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated.

Send me drabble prompts to help me flex these writing muscles again!

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x plus size reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale angst #maggie's writing #soft!ransom #soft!ransom drysdale

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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yaoicarus · 3 years ago

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Here's my pokemon oc, Morriam! He used to be a barista at a popular cafe in Nimbasa before he was sent to Hisui through unknown reasons

doodles of him below + more details and info

Before he came to Hisui, he worked at a popular cafe in Nimbasa. He knew the popular people such as the Subway Masters, and would often chat with them at the counter while he made their orders.

He wasn't really the top employee, as he was often chatting and getting distracted by gossip. His previous partner pokemon was a Misdreavus, and took care of her even on the job.

He would often wobble at times whenever he looked around quickly due to him being anemic. Morriam often took breaks during his shifts because of it, but he was fine with doing overtime because he felt guilty.

He remembers his regulars, but often forgets their names. He has a couple of biases, like the Ingo, Emmet, Elesa, and after Hisui, Volo where he actually remembers their names properly.

He is usually light footed and tends to surprise people because of how quiet he is. He was taken in by the Diamond Clan, started to wander for a bit before settling at Galaxy Team's camp, working for Beni at his shop and giving him a bigger repertoire of drinks to serve, including more tea flavors, juices and the favourite among the adults, coffee.

He barely meets Volo outside of the times he arrives at the settlement. He doesn't order anything from the store, and is often out as fast as he came in, so he wasn't able to talk to him much until post Hisui events and aus such as Emmetropia (if u remember the first thing I did for the au, he was the barista working at the counter!)

He is often seen taking glances at Sneasler's warden, Ingo. He couldn't seem to recall anything, but he could remember his order and tried his best to find the materials to make it for him. He has an obvious bias to his smiling counterpart, as he was asked by Akari/Rei why he kept looking at the warden. He answered with a simple "I like him better when he smiles."

He arrived with his memories intact, but approached a Luxray den before getting attacked, leaving him with a scratch on his face and no memories from the electric shock. He passed out because of blood loss, but before anything worse could happen to him, Melli saved him. He now gets free drinks from the store (with permission from Beni)

blood underneath so this is a heads up but its a page of the paragraphs above drawn out

i originally made him for the pokerus au but hhehe oops (hasnt sketched that out yet)

#pkmn #pokemon #pokemon legends #pokemon arceus #pokemon legends arceus #pla #pla oc #pokemon oc #pokemon legends arceus oc #pokemon bw oc

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if-music-be-the-food-of-love · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday

Robbe IJzermans!!

“I Want it All” ch. 8 Sneak Peek: Robbe’s Birthday

Summary: Sander goes all out for Robbe’s birthday. So much fluff. All fluff. Amelia is cute. Still rated T. This takes place about halfway through the chapter.

**Disclaimer: This is a rough draft. Please forgive my typos and inconsistencies. As always, it’s long (7k). Enjoy!

Link to fic on Ao3. This is not posted there. Preview below only:

Amelia - almost 12 months

Sander

“Bye, Laurence,” Sander said before hanging up the video call and closing his laptop. He stood, and reaching his arms overhead, stretched side to side before arching his back and twisting a few times. As he rolled his shoulders, he heard giggling coming from the kitchen, and a slow smile spread across his face.

Curious, he left their bedroom and followed the sound to the kitchen, where he found Amelia in her high chair, cackling and clapping her hands as Robbe ‘found’ Cheerios in her ears. He’d show her his empty hands and then reach for one of her ears where he’d miraculously ‘find’ one and give it to her to eat. Her eyes grew wide every time he brought the Cheerio in front of her, sheer adoration and amazement all over her face. She’d squeal as she reached for the cereal and laugh and clap her hands as she popped it into her mouth.

After four more Cheerios received the same treatment, Sander strode forward casually, hands in his pockets, and said, “Still don’t think that’s the best way to impress the girls.” He ruffled Amelia’s hair and gazed down at Robbe, a teasing smile on his lips. “Glad to know those magic tricks paid off. Longest investment I ever made.” He then ruffled Robbe’s hair, and muttered, “Dork.”

Robbe snorted in response and blushed prettily as he rolled his eyes up at Sander. “It’s your fault. You can only blame yourself. And,” he poked Amelia’s nose and made another Cheerio appear out of it, eliciting more loud giggles, “Amelia is clearly impressed. Aren’t you, sweet girl?” He asked, speaking directly to her, his voice dropping into a goofy drawl. “You think I’m amazing, don’t you? Forget what your silly daddy thinks. He’s just jealous.”

Sander bit the inside of his cheek and pursed his lips, his head shaking side to side. “If I’m jealous of you,” he finally said, “I guarantee it’s not about the magic tricks.” He winked at Robbe, pursing his lips into an air kiss, and then swooped down to kiss the top of Amelia’s head.

“How’s Laurence?” Robbe asked, refocusing his gaze on Amelia and continuing her magical meal.

Sander shrugged, stepping up behind him. He waved his hands forward a few times, and understanding him immediately, Robbe scooted to the edge of his chair. Sliding in behind him and then pulling Robbe back into his chest, arms still wrapped around his middle, he answered, “Tired. They’re afraid the baby might have colic, but it’s a little too soon to know.” Robbe shivered beneath him at the thought. “He looks like a zombie. Did we ever look that bad?” He rested his chin on Robbe’s shoulder.

Robbe chuckled lightly and turned his head to kiss his cheek. “Yes, we did. At one point, you looked like death, and I was seriously worried. Remember? I had to stage an intervention. I’m sure I didn’t look much better. Those first few weeks...just thinking about them…it was rough.” Robbe shuddered again, and Sander gave him another squeeze.

He kissed the space between Robbe’s shoulder blades and then rested his cheek on his shoulder, lips lightly touching his neck. He let his eyes close, and a companionable silence descended between them as Robbe continued to feed Amelia her snack while Sander rested.

Several minutes later, Robbe’s fingers touched his hands, pulling him out of his light doze, and he said, his voice coming across gravelly because Sander’s ear pressed into his shoulder, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Mmhmm,” Sander responded, his eyes still closed.

“Amelia’s birthday is three days after mine, and I know we already have some big plans. You know, all the chaos and people and food. It’s a lot to plan and manage. Maybe this year we don’t do anything for my birthday. Just stay home, nothing special. Its--”

“No,” Sander cut him off, snuggling in a little more. “Absolutely not.”

As if not hearing him, he continued, “Maybe in the future we could just do a combined birthday or something.”

“No. No. No,” he hesitated for a moment and then added, “No. C’mon, Robbe, I’ve been making a fuss about your birthday for almost two decades. You really think I’m going to stop now just because our daughter’s birthday is so close? Please.” He let out an exasperated “pfft” into Robbe’s neck.

“But, it just makes sense, especially this year,” Robbe tried. “We should focus on her. It’s her first birthday. It’s a big deal.”

Sander sat up, his voice turning serious. “And so is your birthday. The day you were born is a big deal to me. You are the most important person in my life, and I want to celebrate the fact that you exist. Would you deny me that?”

Robbe turned to look at him, and Sander thrust his lower lip out into an exaggerated pout. Robbe shook his head in response, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “That’s kind of sappy, San.”

He dropped his forehead onto Robbe’s temple and said, “You make me sappy. Not my fault.”

“Hmmm,” Robbe responded noncommittally. A second later, he surprised Sander with an elbow to the stomach, saying, “And honestly, not fair. You know I’d never deny you anything. Turning it on me so that I’m doing it for you? Pathetic.”

Sander grinned and hugged him closer. Bringing his lips to Robbe’s ear, he whispered, “Yet effective.”

“Ugh,” Robbe groaned, but he leaned back into Sander, clearly giving in already.

“Anyway,” Sander continued in a normal voice, “This is the first birthday where I can show you exactly how much I love you. I’m going all out, baby! I already have everything planned, and Zoë offered to watch Amelia before I even asked. So...you’re stuck.”

Robbe moved like he was going to protest one more time, but they were interrupted by a stream of babble from Amelia. She had about a dozen Cheerios on the tray in front of her, but she kept clutching at her ears and then looking disappointedly at her hands. Each time they came up empty, she chattered at them as if giving them a pep talk before trying again.

“Oh no!” Sander guffawed. “What have you done?”

Unable to control himself, Robbe’s body shook with laughter. “I...I...well...oops.”

“Oops is right. Let’s hope she doesn’t try to pull Cheerios from anywhere else.”

“Sander!” He elbowed him in the stomach again, but they both laughed. They laughed so hard Amelia finally gave up looking for Cheerios and stared at them in confusion, completely at a loss for why they were giggling so much.

Robbe

Robbe’s birthday dawned wet and cloudy, but the grey atmosphere did nothing to dampen Sander’s spirits. He woke up early to make Robbe a ‘real’ breakfast before work and shoved him out of the door with a dozen kisses and a promise to come directly home.

When Robbe arrived back at the flat, he found Sander’s backpack stationed by the door and Zoë’s shoes resting next to Amelia’s. He gave the backpack a second curious glance and then followed the sound of voices to the kitchen.

“Dada!” Amelia’s voice called, and Robbe immediately redirected from looking for Sander to searching for Amelia. She stood next to the couch, holding on with one hand, her chubby legs steady beneath her.

“Hey, princess,” he said, squatting down a few feet away from her. She took confident steps toward him, hand sliding along the couch in support, and then in her excitement at being near him, she let go of the couch and half toddled, half fell forward into his arms.

He held her for a moment, unmoving; then his jaw dropped, and he looked up, seeking Sander’s eyes. When he found them, shining and surprised, he asked, “Did you see that? Did it count? Do you think it counted? Did she walk?”

“I saw at least two actual steps before she fell forward,” Zoë said helpfully.

“I think I saw three,” Sander agreed. “I think it counts.”

Robbe squealed, lifting Amelia into the air as he stood, and swung her around. “You did it!” he shouted over and over again. He hugged her to his chest and showered her in kisses.

Then it was Sander’s turn. He hugged them both, liberally peppering them with kisses as he said, “And you did it on your daddy’s birthday! What a sweet girl! Happy Birthday!” He gave Robbe a loud smack on the lips.

“B-tday.” Amelia mimicked, clapping her hands, and they both erupted into even more praise.

“Best birthday present ever,” Robbe said, giving her cheek a final kiss before putting her back down to play.

“I dunno about that. Til now, maybe, but I have plans to top it. Just wait,” Sander said, bumping his shoulder.

“Oh really?” He wrapped his hands around Sander’s waist and looked up into his face, eyes teasing. “You really think you can top my daughter’s first steps as a present?”

“Definitely,” Sander said confidently, his mouth spreading into a broad grin.

Sander’s confidence gave Robbe a moment of pause. What could he possibly have planned that he was sure would top this? He was even more curious about the bag by the door.

When they reached the sidewalk outside, Amelia already being happily spoiled by Zoë inside, Sander took Robbe’s hand, and they turned towards the bike rack.

“So,” he said, “We have a few options. We can’t head to the main event until 20:30, and then we’re having dinner afterward. So between now and then we can do whatever you want.”

“Wait, what? The main event? Wouldn’t dinner be the main event?”

Sander smirked down at him, saying smugly, “Nope. You’ll see. So--” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them quickly while lifting his eyebrows playfully at Robbe. “What should we do now? I’m all yours.” He opened his arms and turned to walk backwards in front of him.

Grinning at him, Robbe said, “Oh, I’m well aware.” He then gave him a light shove and took his hand again to pull him alongside. “I thought you had it all planned. Now you’re making me decide. Rather unfair, don’t you think?”

Sander snorted, dropping his head forward. “Ro-obbe, this is part of the plan. You get to decide how we kill time together. Just us.” He looked up, his hand reaching out to caress Robbe’s long hair. “No babies. No friends. No responsibilities.” His fingers trailed down Robbe’s cheek. “Just us.”

Robbe’s breath caught, and when he met Sander’s eyes, he could clearly see how pleased he was with himself. Robbe rolled his eyes at him, bumping his shoulder with his forehead as he mumbled, “You can’t seduce me in the street, you know.”

Sander’s teasing voice lilted, “But I can make you blush.”

Robbe groaned, but when he lifted his head a soft, dreamy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Sander beamed back at him and kissed his forehead. He then tucked Robbe under his arm and led him to the bike rack. They unlocked their bikes and set off, heading in the general direction of the Schedlt.

In the end they decided to just walk along the riverfront, lingering anywhere that struck their fancy. Sander took about a hundred pictures of Robbe as they went, much to his consternation, which eventually led to him running away and them chasing one another around. Teasingly, Robbe would let him catch him, or he’d tackle Sander out of nowhere; but after a few kisses, he’d slip out of his grasp and dart away again.

At one point Robbe leaped at him from behind a tree, wrapping his legs around his waist, and it surprised Sander so much his legs buckled; and they tumbled to the grass. Robbe rolled to his stomach and kissed Sander’s cheeks and forehead apologetically while his hand snuck into his pocket and stole his phone. When he pulled it out, he snapped three photos of his shocked face in quick succession and then leapt to his feet and ran down the walkway. Sander shouted, “You little shit,” behind him, and rose to his feet more slowly. He took off after Robbe, laughing and glaring simultaneously. Robbe turned around, jogging backwards, and pointed the phone at him again, zooming in on his face.

“Not as much fun on the other side of the camera, is it?” he called.

“Robin, you ass!” he growled back.

Robbe stopped abruptly, and raising both eyebrows as he cocked his head, he pouted, “But you loooove me.”

Sander slowed to a walk, approaching him with outstretched hands. Slightly out of breath, he huffed, “Yes, I love you, idiot.”

Robbe giggled in response, lifted the phone up, and snapped several more photos of Sander’s exasperated face before racing off in a new direction, taking photos randomly as he went. He chuckled to himself thinking about all the pictures Sander would have to sort through and delete.

As he darted around the next tree, he took pity on Sander and turned around to allow him to catch him. Sander slammed into him, and Robbe wrapped his arms around his middle, burying his face into his chest. Sander burrowed his nose into Robbe’s hair and murmured, “You gonna give me my phone back yet? I do actually want to document some of tonight for posterity’s sake.”

Robbe kissed his chest and then lifted his face to nuzzle into his neck. “Only if you promise to be in more of the pictures. No more random ones of just me. I want us. Together.”

“Fine,” he said, smiling into Robbe’s hair.

“Excellent.” Robbe lifted the phone, flipping the camera, and took several selfies as they hugged and kissed against the tree. “Better,” he said a few minutes later, finally handing the phone back to Sander.

Exhausted, they strolled back towards the path and collapsed onto a bench facing the river. Sander rested his arm on the bench behind Robbe, as they leaned into one another, watching the sun begin to set over the city, the orange rays fighting through the remaining clouds. Several minutes later, interrupting the calm that had settled over them, Sander said, “We’re going to have to go soon.” Robbe made a quiet, guttural sound in his throat, and Sander chuckled, knocking his knee into Robbe’s. “I promise. You want to go. You’re going to love it.”

“More than Amelia’s first steps?”

“Yes,” he said confidently. Then he paused, adding, “Maybe. Probably. I mean, they’re such different things you can’t really compare them, but I guarantee you, you’ll like this. So,” he nudged Robbe’s foot with his own, “We should go get our bikes.”

Robbe begrudgingly agreed and allowed Sander to pull him to his feet. They walked briskly back to their bikes, and Robbe followed Sander, now almost overflowing with curiosity. Where on earth was Sander taking him?

As they ascended the elevator in the Sint-Annatunnel, Sander lifted an eyebrow at Robbe, saying one word: “Race?”

Robbe grinned back and said, “You’re on.”

As soon as the doors opened, Robbe stood and put his full weight on his pedals, propelling himself forward. He and Sander raced neck and neck, occasionally avoiding pedestrians and other cyclists. About halfway through the tunnel, their eyes met, and without saying a word, they slowed to a more reasonable pace.

Sander pulled out his phone and aimed it at Robbe. Shaking his head, Robbe admonished, “Selfie mode, baby. Selfie mode.”

Sander rolled his eyes but acquiesced, flipping the camera and taking several photos of the both of them as they neared the exit.

When they arrived at their destination, Robbe’s eyes grew wide, and he asked, “The pool?”

“Yeah, the pool. Our pool.”

“Our pool,” Robbe repeated under his breath as he locked his bike. Knowing their destination wasn’t helping. He was as confused and curious as ever.

Sander shrugged on the backpack, and turning to Robbe, said, “Okay. So I need to go get the key. There’s something I want you to see around the corner, so just stay here til I come back.”

“Okay,” he answered. As he waited, he began to fidget nervously, alternately pacing and bouncing on his toes. What were they doing here? What mad scheme had Sander come up with for his birthday?

About two minutes later and just after Robbe had to clasp his hands in front of him to keep them from shaking with nervous energy, Sander returned, jangling a set of keys from pinched fingers.

“Alright,” he said, grinning, “We’re good to go. The pool’s ours for the next hour.”

“It is? Just us?”

“Yep,” Sander confirmed, wrapping his arm around Robbe’s neck and pulling him in. “I gave our old coach a call, and he was willing to do me a favor as long as I promised that we’d continue coming for lap swim. There might have been something about volunteering at the next swim meet as well, but I’ll deal with that when I get the email.”

“Wow. Okay,” Robbe said, still confused. “Now what?”

Sander kissed his temple and said, “Don’t worry, Robin. I’ve got it all covered. Now,” he swept his arm forward in an arc, “I wanna show you something. Let’s go.”

Sander steered him to the end of the building and around the corner. About halfway down the alley, he stopped and said, “Pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight.” Robbe did as he said, facing the light towards the ground. “Okay,” he continued, “Now point it over here.”

It wasn’t full dark yet, but since it was overcast, the sky was darker than usual. Robbe lifted the light, directing it to where Sander indicated, and he gasped.

On the wall, in bright oranges, reds, browns, and yellows, was an enormous robin, its wings outstretched as if landing on a branch, its feathers ruffled around the neck, its brown eyes fierce and piercing. As Robbe took it in, his eyes darting from one detail to the next, Sander came up behind him and wrapped both arms over his shoulders, pulling him into his chest.

“Before you worry,” he whispered, “I had permission.”

“This is like your tattoo,” Robbe finally managed.

“Yes and no. They are similar,” Sander kissed Robbe’s temple, “But if you look closely, you’ll see that this one is quite a bit more aggressive. The one on my hip...that one is softer, sweeter, a more cuddly Robbe--the one I see at home. The one I’ve known and loved almost my whole life. This one is a bit more badass, more intense--the focused scientist the world gets to see.”

Robbe swallowed, unable to form words, and continued to stare at the robin, his robin. Sander was right. Apart from being a robin with outstretched wings, they were completely different. The robin on Sander’s hip was etched permanently in his memory. He’d spent hours studying it, tracing it, and kissing it. It was softer, the edges less harsh, the expression less intense. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved to be labeled a badass scientist, but he could definitely see the differences in the two birds.

Kissing his ear, Sander continued, “And anyway, my tattoo is special, so much more special.”

Robbe turned a questioning face up at him, still unable to speak, and Sander breathed a quiet laugh, answering his unspoken question, “Because it’s our secret. It’s just for us. The world can see this one, the awesome, amazing, intelligent chemical engineer who gets published in fancy journals. The other one is ours.”

Finally finding his voice, he whispered, “How? Why?”

Sander laughed in earnest, his whole body shaking, taking Robbe along with it. “Really, Robin? Do I ever need a reason to draw you?”

Robbe ducked his head, pressing a shy smile into Sander’s bicep.

“Okay, but really. I’d been wracking my brain, trying to think of what I could do for your birthday, and I had this idea. I knew this wall was here because we used to run around back here. I asked the pool owner if it was alright, and she said yes. What I wanted to do was cover this entire wall with your face. You know, because that’s how much I love you.”

Robbe’s stomach fluttered suddenly, and he placed his hands on top of Sander’s, briefly kissing the soulmark on his left wrist.

“But,” Sander continued, “I didn’t think you’d appreciate your actual face on display, possibly for years, so I sprayed the next best thing, your namesake. And voila! You got a three meter high Robin. Happy Birthday!”

Overcome with emotion, Robbe again couldn’t respond with words, so he spun in Sander’s embrace, sliding his hands up to his face. The light was dim, but he knew Sander could see him well enough; so he gazed directly into his eyes and put all of his feelings, his love, his complete devotion to and adoration of Sander into his look, trying to express how he felt about the gift without words--that he loved it, thought it was amazing, and was honored to be the subject of Sander’s skill.

Slowly, Robbe lifted up onto his toes and kissed him softly, worshipping his lips with lingering kisses and caressing his skin with light fingers, as if he were the most precious treasure that deserved care and attention and love.

Sander had always been great with words, but he truly expressed himself best in his art. Such a large, public piece of art was a declaration of love, as or possibly more meaningful than his words. He poured his heart and soul into his work, but this was a full exposure. There was no way Robbe, or anyone who knew the backstory, could deny the depth of Sander’s feelings, and knowing that until two months ago, he could not have done this, couldn’t have shared his love at all, let alone this loudly, filled Robbe with love and longing. Sander had waited so long to love him openly, and it was almost exploding out of him uncontrollably. It had exploded onto this wall, in vibrant colors, and Robbe could only imagine where it would surge out next.

His wonderful, beautiful, talented Sander was the most loving person in the world, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to finally have him, all of him. The feeling was overwhelming, and he started to deepen the kiss, pulling Sander closer and trying to plaster himself to his chest.

Sander smiled beneath him and leaned back a little. “I’m so glad you like it, and while I’d love to do this all night, we have to be out of the pool by 21:30. So…”

Robbe lifted up on his toes one last time, leaning forward to peck his lips. “Fine,” he sighed, “There better be more kisses coming, though.”

Smirking cheekily, Sander gave Robbe another quick kiss and said, “I promise. You will get more kisses.”

“Good. Lead the way, then.”

The purpose of the backpack became clear the second they entered the pool’s changing rooms. Sander had packed their towels and swimsuits. They changed quickly, and then, leaving their things behind, strode out into the large, echoing chamber.

Sander lifted an eyebrow and, repeating himself from before, said, “Race?”

Robbe nodded. “Race.”

They made their way to the blocks. “Fifty or one hundred meters?” Sander asked.

With a wicked gleam in his eye, Robbe answered, “One hundred. Butterfly.”

Sander groaned, and Robbe grinned evilly. He knew exactly how much Sander hated the butterfly.

“Fifty?” Sander hedged.

“Fine. Fifty. But then we do one hundred free. Deal?”

“It’s your birthday,” he said, stepping onto the block.

“Yes,” he agreed, smugly, “Yes it is.” He stepped onto the adjacent block.

They took a few seconds to set their hands and feet, and then Sander began the countdown. “On go, three, two, one, go!”

They dove into the pool, and Robbe almost immediately regretted choosing butterfly, as neither of them had goggles. Valiantly, he struggled on, kicking hard and sweeping his arms wide, opening an I when he could. Still, it was no contest. Even without proper equipment, he was back at the start while Sander had over half a length to go.

He swam over to the lane divider, and crossed his arms over the blue plastic, waiting for Sander. Once he touched the wall, he turned to face Robbe, sputtering, “I hate you.”

Robbe reached his toe out, poking him in the side, and said, “No, you love me. That’s why we’re here.” He tickled him with his toes, making Sander squirm back. He giggled proudly, and snarked, “You ready for the next one, or does the old man need a moment?”

“Old man?” Sander sputtered again, spraying water everywhere. “You’re the one who’s actually older today, and twenty six is by no means old.”

“Well,” Robbe said, reaching out again with his foot, “I’m only turning twenty four, so...math. It never lies. You’re old.” He extended his toes to poke Sander again, but this time Sander grabbed his ankle and pulled him under and toward him.

He came up sputtering and spitting, wiping water out of his eyes. Sander gave his chest a slight shove and backed him up into the side of the pool, placing one hand on either side. “So,” Sander teased, his eyes heated, “What you’re saying is that you like older men.”

Robbe wrapped his legs around his waist, hands braced on his shoulders, and said, “I love you. I like whatever you are. So I guess I like older men.”

Sander rolled his eyes. “Of all the things I am, you went for old. Thanks.”

“Sander?”

“Yes.”

“Shut up.” And Robbe curled his arms around his neck, running his fingers up into his hair, and kissed him. The kiss was less successful this time because neither of them could stop smiling. Finally, Robbe mumbled into Sander’s lips, “Okay. You’ve had a long enough break. Let’s go.”

Together they lifted themselves out of the pool and climbed onto the blocks. Sander counted down again, and they dove into the water. Freestyle was Sander’s stroke, so it didn’t matter how long they raced. He’d win. Every time. Robbe didn’t really care. He was just happy to be spending some carefree hours with Sander on his birthday.

As expected, Sander won, finishing several lengths ahead of Robbe. “Now who’s old?” he asked, as Robbe touched the wall.

“Still you,” and Robbe splashed him with an avalanche of water.

They spent the next twenty minutes fooling around in the lap pool. As with everything they did, there was a mixture of teasing, bickering, wrestling, and kissing. With the added element of water, there was also a considerable amount of splashing.

At one point Robbe had to stop Sander from tackling him because he’d splashed water up his nose. Immediately redirecting his momentum, Sander scooped him up in his arms and kissed his nose while Robbe recovered.

When he finally felt better, he snaked his arms around Sander’s neck and pulled him into a soggy kiss, Sander still cuddling him to his chest.

Robbe marveled at how different things were between them now and yet how familiar the whole evening felt. They’d spent years training and messing around in this pool, playing together, racing, competing, acting foolish--much as they were now. The pool had been their safe place, their neutral ground. Since they went to different schools, having somewhere they both felt at ease had been important, and somehow they’d begun to associate one another with water. Now, even as adults, it was where they came together, meeting up after work to trade out Amelia and exercise.

The main difference was the kissing. When they were kids, it had been about fun. Now, it was still fun, just in more ways, ways they could never have imagined back then. And honestly, the kissing was nice, better than nice. Kissing Sander felt like a miracle, something he craved like an addict. After being denied for so long, it felt wonderfully luxurious and overwhelming and special, like his body came alive and every nerve ending was ramped up, feeling each sensation that little bit more intensely. He was so lucky, so damn lucky they’d figured everything out. It almost made him cry, but he focused on Sander’s lips, slick with chlorinated water, and his own hands, as they ran over the muscles on Sander’s back and shoulders.

Robbe kicked out his legs, freeing them from Sander’s grip, and wrapped them around Sander’s waist again, giving himself a better angle to kiss and caress his soft, golden skin.

Sander, however, had a different plan. As Robbe aimed a kiss at his neck, he pulled away, panting as he disentangled Robbe’s arms and legs from his body. “Wait. Wait, Romeo.”

“What?” Robbe whined, his lip jutting out petulantly.

Sander laughed at him and cupped his face. “I told you. I have the whole evening planned.” He jerked his head over to the diving pool. “We have a date with my old nemesis.” He jokingly glared at the diving platform.

“We do?” At Sander’s nod, he shrugged and said, “Alright.”

They swam to the edge and crawled out, holding hands as they strode to the deeper pool. “Any chance,” Sander hesitated, bumping Robbe’s shoulder, “That I could convince you to...uh…” He snapped the waistband of Robbe’s swim trunks. “Remove these?”

Robbe turned to him, aghast, whispering furiously, “What? No, there are cameras! There have to be cameras here. No way, San. No way!”

Clearly disappointed, Sander frowned but nodded and began chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes searched the cavernous room, and he looked thoughtful. As if coming to some decision, one that pleased him, a slow grin spread across his face--an obvious warning that Robbe probably should heed but was willing to ignore--and clutched Robbe’s hand tighter, pulling him toward the ladder.

Robbe ascended first, and Sander gave his ass a light slap before he followed, making Robbe smile. Robbe reached the top and moved aside so that Sander could climb up behind. Sander’s fear of heights hadn’t followed him into adolescence, so venturing up here today wasn’t an issue for him. Robbe was sure he was doing it more for nostalgic reasons than anything else.

As if he could read Robbe’s mind, Sander said, “Remember when you punched that kid for me.” He pointed to the space in front of the bleachers. “It was over there.”

Robbe nodded, wrapping his arm around Sander’s waist.

“You were my hero, you know,” Sander said quietly, earnestly. “I was in such awe of you. This little tiny thing, dripping wet, hauling ass out of the pool to deck that asshole, someone who’d been tormenting you for months. That you, the kindest, most caring person I know, would defend me like that. It was...you were magnificent, and I loved you so much for it. That might have technically been when I fell in love with you, but since I was ten at the time, I definitely didn’t realize it.”

“Hmpf,” Robbe grunted. “He deserved it. He could have killed you. Even thinking about it now makes me--” His body shook, and he growled.

“I know, baby. I know.” He hugged him tighter. “It’s fine. We’re fine. And anyway, let’s enjoy ourselves. We’ve never been allowed to do this.” He spread his arms out, indicating the platform.

“What? You mean be up here together?”

“Yeah. We definitely need to take advantage because you know they’ll never let us do it again.”

“True,” Robbe agreed. Then he had a thought, and he turned an excited, crooked grin at Sander. “Amelia’s going to jump off this thing one day.”

Sander’s jaw dropped, his eyes going wide as an expression of sheer panic came over him. He shook his head dumbly, finally saying, “No. Nope. No. I can’t handle that.” He looked over the edge, shivered, and said, “No,” one last time.

“C’mon, San. It’s not like it’ll be next week, but yeah, it’s gonna happen. Our girl is a daredevil. We’re doomed.”

“I know,” Sander said, frowning slightly. “We are so doomed.”

Robbe kissed his shoulder and bumped him with his hip. “Stop worrying, and let’s jump off this thing.”

Sander stepped aside, still holding Robbe’s hand, and doing the one thing they were never allowed to do at the pool as kids, they took three steps forward and jumped into the water together.

Robbe hit the surface with a splash and plunged underwater. Somewhere along the way, he had lost Sander’s hand, so he used both arms to swim to the surface. Taking a deep breath, he noticed that Sander hadn’t surfaced yet. He searched around, looking for a dark shape. A few moments later, Robbe saw Sander rising beneath him. His body almost grazed Robbe’s as he broke the surface, appearing directly in front of him. Their eyes met, and immediately Robbe was suspicious. There was a playful, teasing glint in Sander’s eyes, a smug, self-satisfied glimmer that alerted Robbe to mischief. The question was what.

Before Robbe could ask, Sander blurted out, water spraying into Robbe’s face, “You know, I think I would have jumped off the platform sooner if you’d been allowed to go with me. That was a stupid rule. I’m glad we’re breaking it now.”

Robbe smooshed his hand into Sander’s face but smiled in agreement. “You’re probably right, but you eventually did it. On your own. And that’s all that really matters.” His fingers traced the shell of Sander’s ear before returning to the water to help him stay afloat. “I was so proud of you. I almost went hoarse cheering. You were amazing, baby.”

Robbe glided forward, reaching out to pull him into a kiss, and then stopped abruptly. Wait. Was Sander-- He slid his hand down Sander’s chest, following the curve of his ribcage down to his hip, and--

Nothing.

No swim shorts.

Robbe’s hand was now on Sander’s bare ass. He lifted his eyes to Sander’s and found that playful, pleased look again. He winked. “Enjoying yourself, IJzermans?”

“Sander, what the hell?” He pulled back, his arms and legs treading water madly. His eyes darted around, searching for Sander’s shorts on the bottom of the pool.

Sander began swimming in a slow circle around Robbe, leaning to the side. “You were worried about the cameras. Well--” he grinned, “The cameras can’t see underwater, so we’re safe.”

“I--err..umm...San, I don’t know,” Robbe stuttered.

“Don’t worry, baby. I have a plan. We’ll be able to retrieve them before we leave.” His eyes grew soft, and his lips pouted. “Please, baby, indulge me.”

Robbe knew he’d lost the second Sander turned on the pleading eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, moving his hands to his waist.

“Oh no, baby. Allow me,” Sander interrupted, stopping his hands. He brought his hands to Robbe’s waist, accidentally kicking him a few times as he treaded water, and unknotted the shorts. He then pushed them down and taking a deep breath, he plunged below the surface, arms reaching overhead. Robbe could feel him working them the rest of the way down.

When he could see a dark shape sinking toward the bottom, Sander popped up again in front of him, once again grinning. “Now doesn’t that feel better?”

“Honestly,” Robbe answered, “It feels kind of weird and not weird. Weird because we’re here, and I’m freaking out a little. But not weird because I’m with you, and it’s not like I’m not naked in water all the time at home. Well, except usually it’s in a shower, not an enormous, chlorinated bathtub.”

Sander barked out a laugh, leaning his head back. “Only you, Robin, would be analyzing this right now. Just go with it, baby.” At his words, he began circling Robbe again, his eyes turning predatory.

“Should I be worried?” Robbe asked, lifting an eyebrow and turning his body to face Sander as he moved.

“Not at all.”

“Are you sure? You’re kind of circling me like a vulture.”

“I’m just enjoying the view,” Sander stated, matter-of-factly.

“Pfft. You’re ridiculous.”

“Robbe?”

“Yeah.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“Wha--” Robbe began but stopped when he saw Sander dive beneath the surface, his pale bottom peaking out momentarily before his feet kicked up behind him.

Before Robbe could process what was happening, he felt Sander’s hand close around his ankle, and he was barely able to suck in a deep breath before he was pulled underwater.

So surprised by the turn of events, Robbe’s eyes shot open, and he looked around. Sander floated directly across from him, his dark hair undulating slowly above him. His eyes were open, focused on Robbe, his gaze intense.

Robbe realized what was about to happen just moments before it did. The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and his chest ached, his heart beating like a hummingbird in anticipation. Sander’s arms pulled back, propelling him forward, and then his hands reached for Robbe’s face. Robbe’s fingers automatically found Sander’s neck, and within moments they were kissing. This was happening. It was happening!

And...it was interesting, a little bizarre. Their lips pressed together softly, the water providing a surprising resistance.

As he tried to deepen the kiss, an air bubble escaped Robbe’s mouth, and as he opened his lips for Sander’s tongue, a gush of chlorinated water flooded his mouth. He exhaled it out, closing his lips around Sander’s, and kicked his legs, propelling them upward.

When they reached the surface, they broke the kiss briefly to breathe and then slammed their lips together, kissing more successfully and furiously, hands caressing whatever they could reach.

Even as his mind registered how romantic this was--that Sander had paid attention when they were watching Romeo and Juliet and understood how much Robbe wanted to try this, that Sander had fabricated this whole evening to give Robbe the romantic moment he wanted, that kissing Sander anywhere at any time was still his favorite thing to do--his brain couldn’t stop thinking about how awkward it was. Sander didn’t taste like Sander. Water still dripped down their faces, getting in their eyes and tickling their cheeks. Their hands were occupied, holding one another closer, which made treading water harder. They were so close, their legs kept kicking one another. The whole thing was a bit of a mess, sloppy and uncoordinated.

Even so, Robbe enjoyed it. He was here. He was with Sander. They were kissing in their childhood pool, and Sander loved him, a fact that still staggered him, crushed him, made him feel weak and the happiest, luckiest person alive all at the same time.

And everything so far tonight screamed how much Sander loved him. The date night, the robin, the pool, the underwater kiss. It was all so much, so wonderful, so ridiculously over the top, just like Sander, that Robbe couldn’t contain his feelings. Even as his body fought to stay in the kiss and his mind analyzed it, his heart exploded with love, overwhelming him. He needed more. He needed to be closer to Sander. He wanted to show him how much he loved him, how grateful he was to have him in his life.

Without thinking, he wrapped his legs around Sander, and within seconds, they sank below the surface. It didn’t take long for them to come sputtering back to the surface, laughing uncontrollably.

“Someone got carried away,” Sander snickered.

“Yeah well. You’re hot, and I love you,” Robbe countered.

“Touché.”

“Sander, that was...that was…”

“Awkward,” Sander supplied.

Robbe ducked his head, blushing because that’s exactly what Sander had thought it’d be like. Softly he continued, “I was going to say mind blowing, and it was,” he emphasized, responding to Sander’s incredulous look. “But yes it was also super awkward.” He blushed again and ran his knuckles along Sander’s cheek. “But thank you. You are the best, baby. This whole thing,” and he waved around at the pool in general, “Has been so amazing and wonderful. I can’t show you how much I love you right now because we’d drown, so I’ll tell you. I love you.” He gazed earnestly into Sander’s eyes, willing him to understand the depth of his feelings. “So much. You are truly the best, and I am so, so lucky.”

“I love you too, Robin, and don’t get too excited. I’m not done yet.”

Robbe startled back, “What? You’re not?”

“I actually have one last gift for you.”

Robbe looked at the clock on the wall, 21:20. “Well, you can give it to me soon, then. We have to leave in a few minutes. I mean, that is, if you’re giving it to me here.”

“Oh, I’m giving it to you now.”

“You are? How?” Robbe asked, confused.

“I have it right here,” Sander said, opening his arms wide.

Robbe looked at him, completely bewildered. Sander was naked. His pockets were in his shorts, which were currently at the bottom of the pool. What? How? Robbe’s eyes darted all over, looking for a clue, but he found nothing.

How could Sander have one more present to give him? What was it?

**Lets pretend this is one of the selfies they took at the tree…

Thank you for reading and celebrating this fictional boy’s birthday with me. I don’t think there’s any possible universe where Sander doesn’t spoil Robbe rotten on his birthday. Again, please forgive my mistakes (I was rushing to get it done), and I look forward to sharing the rest of the chapter with you….what is Sander’s surprise gift? Wait and see! 💖💖

#wtfock #wtfam #sobbe #Robbe’s bday #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #I want it all #I hope you like this bc I’ve been thinking about this for months #it ends on a cliffhanger #that was intentional #I don’t want to give it all away #Did I look up the forecast in Antwerp for this? yes I did.#tho i don't know if this is what happened #do suspend your disbelief about the legality of all this #sorry if any of it seems weird #there really is a reason for everything Sander is doing #I promise #a good reason (that will hopefully make sense later)

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tomdiddlyumptious · 5 years ago

Note

Tom Holland x zendaya cousin reader where she’s an actress and model /activist she meets Tom on set and reader and z talk about people forcing them to be in competition with each other and people saying z is better because she’s lighter ( colorism) and reader thinks Tom likes white blondes but nope (spoiler ) z Tom and reader start hanging out besides being on set Tom and reader get close they go out to a party and reader and Tom hookup smut (like rough👀)

OOP-

Warnings: SMUT- It wasn’t soft ik that, zaddy kink just for a bit, speaking Spanish on accident because I know how to speak it, and uh crippled walking? Overstimulation, squirt and shit (DONT TAKE THE SHIT LITTERALLY) and language of course ✨

Summary: REEEEEEEEEE-

A/n: god my life is so tragic, and yes I love pink guy 🤺GET BACK🤺 GET BACK I SAY 🤺 this isn’t in bold or anything because I was working on this for toooo long honestly it was requested a while ago, sorry about that!

T.H| I Seen all your exes, I know what you like

You walked after zendaya into the set, your hair into a ponytail, edges laid, you recently got yourself a nose peircing (I just wanted to) you dressed in a large oversized white sweater and some black sweat pants, normal black air forces, you were tired because school was kicking your ass, like forereal.

“Hey Tom!” Zendaya smiled, walking faster to him and hugging him tightly. “Hey z” he smiles back, squeezing her a bit. “This is my uh, cousin, y/n” Zendaya smiled at you and you yawned again, covering your mouth but waving at him, which he gave a tight lipped smile and let out a “hey, how are you” “tired. Bored. Emotionally numb. Mixed feelings, over caked up-“ “haha, I think he gets it” Zendaya cut you off with a wide smile. “Are you playing in the movie?” Tom asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think so” you shrugged. “She’s the real life MJ, don’t mind her, but we are gonna like go now, bye-Tom!” She pulled your arm until you found her trailer.

“What’s up with you!” Zendaya asked as she put her hands on her hips, watching you sit down on her bed. “I HATE SCHOOOOOOL” you complained, throwing your head on her bed as you tried not to cry. “You aren’t crying right now, y/n please don’t” Zendaya rolled her eyes.

“They expect me to know this shit! I barely even know what 2+2 is!” You lifted your head as tears left your eyes, crying. “Y/n, what’s 2+2?” She asked. “Fourrrr” you whined, still crying. “It’s social distance, like cheat or something!” Zendaya said as she mentally started to cackle watching your cry, you sucked your tears up in an instant, acting like you were perfectly fine and took out your laptop...only to cry again.

“I HATE SCHOOOOOOOOLLLL, WHY OUT OF EVERYONE I HAVE TO DO ITTTTTT!” you slapped the computer, zendaya couldn’t take it, she laughed at you. “AND YOUR LAUGHINGGG, IM IN AN EMOTIONAL CRISIS RIGHT KNOW” she started cackling, gasping for air as tears ran down your face. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” “ZENDAYAAAAAA-“ your voice cracked, coughing on your spit as she just kept laughing, she was on the floor now, holding her stomach.

As you let out a broken scream the door opened, revealing Tom worried, but his face turns confused. “Do I want to know?” He gently asked. “Get outttttt” you whined pointing at the door. Tom smiled and nodded his head, closing the door. You wiped your tears away, sniffling like a child as zendaya just watched, a grin plastered in her face. “Shut up zendaya- I’m hurt” you said petty, crossing your arms as she let out a ‘pffft’ and continued to laugh.

It was about 2 days later, you felt better with jacobs help, he can really do math.

You sat in the chair sighing as you looked at your phone. “Fucking Enews, I’m gonna kill them one day” zendaya groaned, plopping herself in the chair next to you. “What happened?” You asked, the only ones in the room, it was like a hangout spot or something, hard to explain use your imagination

“They like to put us against each other and it’s toxic” zendaya hands you the phone, showing you on tone left and her on the right and “zendaya vs y/n” you only cringe at it “they want people to vote?” You asked and she nodded, you voted for yourself and handed her back the phone. “Forget you” she rolled her eyes, “nope if anything I’m winning” you shrug laughing at her while she tries to snatch your phone.

“It’s only fair!” She said, grabbing your phone and somehow knowing your code, standing up and running with your phone “JUST DONT TYPE IN X!” You yell, chasing her. “Oh I’m typing in x” she whispered, now joining where everyone else was, it was to fast to tell who but you seen Tom, you ran past him and his screen showed a model, blond but you couldn’t see anything else. Your mind was racing as you went full on devil an crybaby running, once you chased her she threw herself on the couch, sighing and laying your phone on her stomach.

“Fuck you” you whispered and she laughed, you grabbed your phone and saw “you voted for me!” You gasped. “What! No I didn’t!” She said, immediately sitting up and raising her eyebrows at you, you showed her your phone, laughing in her face as you tried to do the dougie. “Oh so you wanna get competitive?” She asked, crossing her arms. “I mean I’m in the lead” you shrugged. “Whoever loses has to buy lunch!” Zendaya said, standing up and running past you back to where everyone else was, you followed her while she said “VOTE ZENDAYA!” you shouted your own name and told people to vote you and they didn’t understand until they all got a notification.

Everyone voted and you sat next to Tom, begging him to tell you who he chose. “No y/n I won’t tell you” he smiled. “Pleaseeee!” You clasped your hands together giving him the best puppy eyes you could, he glared at you and showed you his phone. “I give up” on the screen it showed “you haven’t even voted yet!” You said, about to tap your name until he pulled his phone back. “Nope”

The rally went on for hours, it went from zendaya to you, to you to zendaya, zendaya was in the lead by point two percent. “THOMAS VOTE!” Laura shouted. “Alright alright!” He said, he heasitantly tapped a name, he chose it on purpose of course and it was nice for him to be the last person to vote.

Everyone’s phoned dinged by Enews. “ILL TELL EVERYONE!” Samuel shouted, everyone sat in seats watched him, phones turned off. This was absolutely giant for you and zendaya, this was a playful competition so don’t worry about putting each other down.

“The person who won is.....” he added suspense on everyone, aching for the answer already. He sighed and cleared his throat, then swallowed.

....

.....

Almost there!

.......it’s

Oop-

“The winner is y/n!” Everyone who voted for you cheered while everyone who voted for zendaya booed. You and zendaya both laughed together, giving each other a hug. “You owe me pizza” she only shrugged and agreed. “Wait...who did Tom vote?” Jacob asked, everyone now eyeing him, his eyes went wide. “You’ll never know” he only said. “Tell us! The game is over!” “Tell us!” Was chanted as his face started to turn a bit red. “ALRIGHT! I VOTED-“

who did he vote? Idk

Oof

This is a long ass story

Not anywhere near finished yet so stick with me here

I LOVE YOU KRITI

“Y/N” everyone cheered and congratulated you, zendaya asking if you wanted to go get the pizza now, you agreed and asked anyone else if they wanted to go, Jacob and Tom said yeah and you all went, you ordered a noarmal pizza and bought zendaya one to, you really didn’t want to take her money, Tom scrolled through the comments of the Enews post and saw how many people actually didn’t like you which is absolute bullshit, comments about your skin and how you act, his blood was slightly boiling, it isn’t right because they don’t even know you, who gives them the right to talk shit about you?

As the days passed you and Thomas hung out a lot, went to dinner a couple times whiteout anyone else, then had lunch, went shopping, you guys just did a lot of shit together which was cute, you guys got matching socks, shirts, jeans, hair clips and hats, calling your selves idiots and thing number one and number two, you, Tom, daya, haz, and Harry went mountain climbing and that was the worst thing you’ve ever done in your life, you held toms hand so tight, wore a parachute just in case you see a bear and need to jump off, you were just all over the place.

“Do you wanna go to a party with me?” Tom asked in his dressing room, watching you eat your Cheerios with extra sugar as you raise a single eyebrow at him “depends “ you shrugged, setting down the bowl as you laid on his bed. “I think it’s like a house party, one of my friends asked to come, I don’t know” he shrugged and sat down at the end of the bed looking at you. “Then alright yeah, I have nothing else to do tonight” he smiles and lays down infront of you and you put your hand on his waist listening to his small breathes.

It was the day of the party and you weren’t so big on it. You dressed in some baggy jeans and a long sleeeve with a slicked back ponytail and some vans, your hair in a slicked in a ponytail and some long eyelashes with lip gloss, you said you’d meet him there because it took you hours If someone was waiting on you, strange but also very true.

You sighed and rolled your eyes with your hands on the steering wheels, trying to find a parking space but it was packed. “Why does this man have so many freinds? ISNT this only a house party?” You muttered, finally finding a parking spot, pretty close. Tom had called you and told you he was waiting at the door when you had just parked, he knew what your car looked like so when he found it he smiled and it made him slightly over excited.

“Hey babe” he smiled and you returned with “hey love” you both exchanged with tight hugs and he took your hand and pulled you in, the first thing that met your nose was sweat and achol. You silently cringed as Tom tried to contain his laughs, pulling you to the kitchen and to the counter, you could barely jump so he helped you up. “Hungry?” He asked. “Any waffles?!” You said and he chuckled, walking over to the fridge and opening the freezer as his smile got brighter, he took the package and threw it at you, which you catches and bit your lip.

The music boomed through the walls, he got you both a beer and ended up burning the waffles “Y/N!” “IM SORRY!” He quickly shut it, going over to the sink and opening the window, the breeze string so he sighed in relief and walked over to you giving you a strong high-five making you hiss “sorry!” He adorably said with made you smile at him, you both made your way upstairs, grabbing a couple beer bottles on the way.

“So” he said, looking at his bottle. “So?” You asked looking at him confused. “How’ve ya been?” He asked, achol in both of your systems as you shrugged. “Happy with you here” “that’s cute y/n” he laughed, setting down the bottle and looking at you. “So are you like not bored?” “We can like watch something?” “Like what?” “The backyardagains?” He looked at you confused, “a child’s show?” “Hey it’s more interesting then alone or whatever you like to watch” “why don’t we like watch porn hub or something?” “That’s wierder then what I said, but I mean..-“ “backyardagains it is” he put his lips in a tight manner, he tried to find the remote on the night stand but it was on your side, luckily there was on demand so you didn’t have to pay for anything.

you both watched the show, him smiling at laughing at you as you mocked the words. “You must had watched this a million times to know what their saying” he chuckled. “Hey don’t judge me, beer?” You asked grabbing one, when he said yeah you added another and handed it to him. You guys got closer, his hand on your waist while you head was on your chest, which shifted to his hand on your ass when you were all the way on top of him, platonically, but when you both looked at each other he pulled in and kissed you roughly, you batted your eyes at him and sat up, setting your beer aside as he did the same, he took his hand and put it on your neck, tugging you down to kiss him.

You slowly rocking your hips on his member feeling it grow as he let out distant groans, his hand stayed comfterbly on your neck, not squeezing to tight but just right. “Do you wanna?” He asked against your lips and you only nodded. “Say it” he said, rubbing his nose against yours. “I want to” “you want to what baby girl?” “I want to have sex with you” “you can be naughtier than that” he bit your bottom lip, pulling it back with him and letting it go, making eye contact with you.

“I want you to fuck me tommy” you kept your hips moving as he let out a hoarse chuckle “that’s my good girl” he squeezed your throat and you whimpered, he released your neck and made his way down your stomach to the button of your pants, his other hand made its way to your cheek, taking it slow and taking everything in as his small lips were against your plump ones, he undid your pants and they were looser then before, so he climbed down and found-

“Lace?” He whispered against your lips, “thong? Naughty girl” your stomach reeked with butterflies as a pool was comfterbly inbeteeen your legs, he pulled the material back and let it go your back arching as you let out a “shit”. You could feel his hard on against you as you were eager to take off your clothes and just give it all to him. He finally came to where you wanted him, he swirled your pearl before digging in your wetness and pumping it “Tommy” you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you” he licked your bottom lip before having it enter your mouth, you basically fucked his hand as he lowered down, finding you sweet spot instantly which only instensed the pleasure. You put your head in his shoulder as you pulled down the rest of your pants, lifting each leg to get them off.

He took his hand out of you which made you whine but he shushed you and made you sit up, looking at the white thong and how it squeezed your skin, he lifted the long sleeve, up and over you head to find you not wearing a bra. “Fucking hell y/n, your so perfect” he smiled, taking a boob in his hand while you lifted your hips to work on his pants,he bucked his hips up slightly so you could pull them down, and it stood, you bit your lip and you looked down and seen the outline of his thick member, seeing a small spot of precum leaking through his underwear. “You gonna stare?” He chuckled, you let out a sorry and pulled down the boxers revealing his member, it sprung up to his lower stomach and you bit your lip, he was above average by like two inches but he was also so...large.

“It’s pretty Tommy” you complement which leaves him smiling. “I’ll be prettier once it’s in you” he knew you were just pooling by his words, you both didn’t want to waste anytime so he pulled the thong to the side, sliding his finger through your heat leaving your hips stuttering slightly, “you ready?” You nodded at him and let out a yeah, he took his member and pumped himself a few times before entering you with a groan.

“Fuck y/n your so tight” you softly came down on him, you being on top and holding onto the head board for support as you lifted your hips and ripped them again “mmmm” you moaned, your head tilting back as he watched comfterbly, seeing you in control. You went faster the bed making noise as whimpers left your lips, his hand came up to your waist and held tight, biting his lip as he watched your boobs bounce infront of his face (ew sex 🤢 don’t know her)

He groaned and let out a fuck, moaning at his name as he sat up, looking up at your face and how your beautiful moans leave your lips. “You like that y/n, you like riding me?” He asked, slightly breathing heavy, he messed with the hem on your thong before taking both of his hands to rip it off. “Mhm, you owe me a thong” he sucked hickeys on the pad of your skin, or where ever he could. You rolled your hips, tired of bouncing as your breath was heavy, making eye contact with his darken, lust filled eyes, he didn’t heasitate to kiss your lips, shoving his tongue in your mouth and fighting for dominance, which of course he won, his hands came down to open your legs, fucking himself into you as you whined. “Fuck baby” he groaned when your hands were on his shoulders, clawing them as he hisses in pain but also in pleasure, his hands are tight on your legs which felt so good to you, hearing the clapping noises as you bucked your hips.

“Tommy you feel so good” you moaned, “yeah? My cock wrapped around your tight little pussy, so warm and wet for who?” “For you” your head tilted back, opening your legs more as you begged for more, which he gave to you, he flipped you both over making him on top, he went as fast as he could, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you choked on your moans “t-Tommy!” “You like that baby?” He asked. “Like it when I fuck into your tight pussy, where you can barely speak, when I bust you fucking open?” “Please please please”

“Please what? Be a good girl and take daddies dick yeah?” When you bucked your hips he laid a slap on your ass, your back arching as you cried and open your legs as open as possible, your chest pressed up against his, he used the head board to pound harder into you, groaning as each thrust, yours moans where high pitched “I’m gonna-“ you swallowed. “Cum? Hold it for me, I’ll tell you when you get it to cum” “your in so deep I don’t know-“ “just try’n hold it” he felt his climax building up. “Please tom can I cum?” You let out a rough high pitched moan, really putting your throat in it, he smiled and moaned at your face, then looked down and seen the way he pounded into you so freely, his cock glistening with your wetness, he took his hand and rubbing your clit messy. “To much Tommy!” You basically screamed.

“Take it for me” your back came off the mattress as your face scrunched, you cum blasting right out of you. “joder joder joder joder, papi me haces correr tan fuerte, dios me haces sentir tan bien! joder papi si, papi si papi si papi si!” You cried, which instantly made him cum right after you. “Fuckkkk” he rode it out, his hand still on your clit, your chest stuttered as your hand went to his wrist latching onto it as he keep swirling around your clit, eager to make you cum again. You were so dazed you couldn’t think straight the pleasure over powering you as you were sure you just peed yourself, “Thomas!” You shrieked

He pulled out. “I could do that all day” he muttered, rolling over to the other side as you both panted, he looked over at you and noticed how you weren’t speaking, “what’s up?” You looked over at him and replied with “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk” he laughed and the door soon opened. “Party is fücking over” his friend said, looking at both of you while your bodies were fully naked, he didn’t care he just wanted you both out, the theme song of the backyardagains playing as he shut the door which left you both laughing, he secretly kept the ripped thong and put it in his pocket of his jeans.

“You spoke Spanish to me, y/n” he laughed as you shook your head no. “Stop that’s so embarasinggg!” You groan and cover your ears. “You called me daddy, I don’t know the rest” “I probably did speak Spanish to you, but I didn’t call you daddy, I couldn’t have” “oh no you called me daddy alright, it was fucking gorgeous, I couldn’t help but cum” “shut up!” You both were walking down the street... well you crippled as he held your hand drinking a slurpii that you got form 711. “How will zendaya feel?” He asked you and you shrugged. “I will tell her soon” “and how you spoke fluent Spanish to me? I bet no one has ever fucked you that good huh?” “THOMAS!”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland au

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platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

Text

Sun

Harringrove April prompt 15, Sun. After the Mindflayer, Billy’s kinda weird, but Steve figures that makes sense.

Steve took the kids to pick each other up, sometimes, and sometimes, Max was at the hospital, to see Billy. In Steve’s head, Billy nearly dying to save Eleven kind of...balanced out beating Steve’s head in. Didn’t mean Steve liked the guy, but he thought...well, Steve Harrington had been no kinda prize until he started fighting for kids, and maybe Billy had changed, at least a little.

Also, it was hilarious, because post-Mindflayer Billy Hargrove didn’t give a shit. Steve had thought he hadn’t before, but then he saw a nurse outside, trying to get Billy to go back in—or at least put his clothes back on—and Billy just leaning against the side of the building by the dumpsters, naked in the sun. She saw Max, and sighed with relief, heading inside.

Before, Billy had cared too much, Steve realized—about what Steve was doing, about who ruled the school—but he only cared about the sun, anymore.

That, and probably annoying his sister, some, because when she leaned around the corner of the building and yelled, “Billy Hargrove, put your damn pants on,” he leaned his head back, eyes still closed, and replied, “Don’t look over here and you won’t see anything you don’t like, Maxine.”

“You better have left your bandages alone,” she shouted, and he laughed, then grimaced, wincing.

“You better stop bossing me around,” he yelled back.

“You’re gonna freeze your ass cheeks off,” she hollered, her hands firmly over her eyes as she meandered hesitantly towards his voice.

“Don’t fucking come over here,” Billy groaned, bracing himself against the wall to look over, but one of his knees bent, and his legs both collapsed. He landed with a soft “—oop.”

“...can I look?” Max asked, stopping.

“No, don’t,” he muttered, trying to push himself back up, and Steve took a step forward automatically, grimacing.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Max told him, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m gonna get you a wheelchair.”

“The sun’s only over here for like fifteen more minutes,” Billy hissed at her, squirming until he could lean back against the building, at least. “Lemme alone.”

“I can hear you shivering,” she snarled back. “You’re probably getting dirt under all your bandages. I’m getting a wheelchair.”

“Get the wheelchair,” Steve told her, and Billy twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Once he’s in the shade, we can throw a blanket on him, and push him in the sun again.”

“...fine,” Max growled, and stomped off.

“...y’know if you leave a bottle of water in the sun for six hours, it disinfects it,” Billy said softly. “The UV rays.”

“...okay,” Steve said, keeping an eye out for anyone he needed to prevent walking around the edge of the building. Billy mumbled something, and Steve wandered closer, trying not to notice how thin his shoulders looked, or the irritated red skin peeking out from under his bandages. “...what’s that?”

“It doesn’t like the sun,” Billy whispered. “Can’t take the UV.”

“...you know it’s gone, right,” Steve told him, and Billy snorted a laugh, his knuckles whitening as he gripped at the scrubby grass.

“Mmm,” Billy said, and Steve crouched to grab his hand.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll help you stand up.”

Billy laughed. “You’re gonna see shit and wish you hadn’t, Harringto—fuck,” he gasped, as Steve slid an arm around him, and slowly stood. “You’re warm, fuck,” Billy muttered, staggering, and shivering harder.

“We showered together,” Steve reminded him, trying to hold Billy so he faced the sun, but not touch him anywhere weird. “I’ve seen it all. I mean, you didn’t look as shitty, then.”

Billy laughed again, then took a few shuddery breaths, touching his bandages. “...fffuck,” he breathed. “I’m hot as...hell, Harrington,” he gasped, his whole face screwed up with pain. “Just...got no taste.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve played along. “The stubble really helps. And the goosebumps, can’t forget those.”

“Shit,” Billy breathed, pulling him a couple of inches further into the sun. “...yeah. I gotta...hide back here,” he said, coughing, and groaning. “My public keeps wanting autographs.”

“...what about a tanning bed,” Steve asked, watching the last sliver of sun slide behind the laurels that shielded the dumpsters. “Surround you with the same thing, right?”

Billy’s breath caught. “...they’re not gonna let me out,” he whispered, curling a little against Steve’s shoulder, worn out. “I can’t get to one.”

“I will talk to your doctor, okay,” Steve told him. “Would you lie down and sleep, after? If we get you in one? Surrounded by the what, the UV light?”

Billy gripped his arms, and nodded, swallowing. “Y-yeah. I—I just need to—”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, as Max pushed the wheelchair around the corner.

Billy draped himself over the chair like a throne, and Max groaned at the drama, but tucked a blanket around him with annoyingly thorough pokes. Billy grumbled, batting at her hand.

Once Steve wheeled him into the room, Billy lolled his head back and hollered, “Max! You were so right, I’m dying, I need water.”

“Like a plant,” Steve said. “He needs to be watered. I kinda have to take a piss—”

“Sounds like you two can work that out,” Max said, wrinkling her nose, but running off.

“You piss on me and I’ll tear your dick off—” Billy started, then trailed off, watching her go. “Check my back,” he whispered, yanking at the blanket, and Steve grabbed his hands.

“Get in the bed,” he whispered back. “I can’t see anything with you in the chair. I’ll check.” Billy’s shoulders were bony in his hands, and Steve bit his lips, helping him back onto the hospital bed.

“...don’t get fresh, now,” Billy grunted, shaking with exhaustion as he flopped too far down on the bed, his feet hanging over the edge, but too tired to move.

“I would never,” Steve told him, snorting a laugh. “Lemme scoot you up—”

“Just look,” Billy hissed, clenching his fists, and Steve kept his sigh silent, and yanked back the blanket.

There were still a bunch of bandages down Billy’s back, and Steve grimaced, trying not to stare at a dude’s naked ass. “”You’re fine,” he sighed, and Billy slammed his hand against the mattress so hard the bed rolled a little.

“You didn’t fucking look—”

“I did,” Steve hissed back, and Billy shook his head, wrapping his arms around his pillow and his face.

“Look harder,” he whispered hoarsely. “Everything hurts, there’s something there this time—”

Steve rubbed his face, and then, grimacing, reached out and touched Billy’s shoulder. Billy gave a full-body shudder, flinching away. “—the fuck,” he gasped, sounding strained, but Steve just set his jaw and ran his fingertips down the back of Billy’s arm.

“I’m looking. There’s nothing.”

Billy stayed still, for once, letting Steve run his fingers down the whole length of his body as Steve’s face flamed. When Steve finished running his fingers down Billy’s sides and along his legs and feet, he stuck his arms out behind him, and Steve carefully inspected his hands and forearms for black veins.

“Back here,” Billy said, grabbing his hair off his neck, and Steve leaned in to inspect the back of Billy’s neck, and behind his ears, listening to the panting, snuffly breaths he was taking into the pillow.

“You’re clear,” Steve said, and Billy finally relaxed, swallowing hard.

“...fuck,” he muttered, between slow, shaky breaths. “Shit. I thought—”

“Try to get some sleep,” Steve told him, sighing. “You’re fine.”

“I’m so fine,” Billy muttered into his arms, huffing a laugh.

Steve thought about telling someone that “looking” with fingertips worked, but he couldn’t see Max wanting to try it, or Billy letting her.

“...you want me to come look tomorrow?” Steve asked, resignedly, and Billy went really still. “...I can check for you if you’ll feel better.”

“...you just wanna get your hands on my ass,” Billy whispered finally, his voice cracking.

“That’s definitely it,” Steve snorted, pulling the blanket back over him, and tucking it in. “Stay under there, it didn’t like warm either, right.”

When Max came back in, she had a tray of food, and started bickering with Billy over the applesauce on it, so Steve left. As he opened the door, Billy called out “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Steve agreed.

He tried to find Billy’d doctor to ask him about a tanning bed, and then the nurse on duty, but she must have thought Billy wanted a tan, because she rolled her eyes. “That kid is gonna die of vanity,” she said, and Steve laughed uncomfortably.

When he’d been at the grocery store, they had cactuses. He drove over there and wandered around until he found a lady holding flowers, and grilled her on how to make somewhere warm and sunny enough for a cactus. After writing a lot on his hand about grow lamps and minimum temperatures, he turned away, and she said “...you aren’t gonna buy a cactus?”, so he did. He picked out an especially spiky one to call Billy, and a shorter wooly one that looked like it was crouching to lunge, and called that one Max with great satisfaction.

The hardware store didn’t have grow lamps, so he ordered two, and bought some bulbs. When he got home, he put Billy and Max into the window, and carefully watered them, then frowned at them through the evening, half expecting them to wither and die.

The next day, Billy was waiting for him after work, his hands shaking a little, but he looked less exhausted.

“You get some sleep, finally?” Steve asked, pulling Billy’s hair away from his ears to check, and then lifting it off his neck.

“Don’t get distracted,” Billy muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotta appreciate the sights, right,” Steve sighed, and Billy laughed, relaxing already under Steve’s careful fingers.

“What about under the bandage,” Billy whispered, when Steve’s fingers grazed his ribs. “Where it went through me.”

“Doesn’t the nurse change that out every day,” Steve asked, having seen it, and Billy’s fingers clenched around the edges of the mattress.

“She’s not looking, she thinks I’m nuts,” he growled, and Steve grimaced, lifting the edges to look underneath.

“I think they’ll throw me out if I mess with your bandages. How about you have Max watch?”

“...she doesn’t wanna see that,” Billy muttered, and Steve rolled his eyes, thinking ‘because I do, right.’

“She wants to make sure you’re safe too,” he told Billy, who was silent.

“His room at home doesn’t get any sun at all,” Max said, when she showed up, and Steve frowned at the man huddled under the blankets. “He’s gonna get arrested for flashing the neighbors. And probably, like, skin cancer on his dick.”

Both options seemed likely.

“When are they releasing him?” Steve asked, cocking his head thoughtfully, and Max winced, blowing through her cheeks.

“We don’t know. He keeps talking about how he could stay longer if he fell down the stairs,” she said, smiling grimly.

“...what the fuck,” Steve said, staring at her, and his vague thoughts of Billy coming to visit began to take shape.

“What?! No!” Robin said, when he mentioned the idea of inviting the man who’d given him a concussion to live in his house.

“He’s changed,” Steve said lamely. “And he’s got no strength in his arms,” he pointed out, with more certainty. “He’s not gonna be hitting anybody.”

“We can always fling him off your balcony,” she said, considering.

He broached it to Billy the next day, as he ran his fingertips down the warm, goose pimply skin of Billy’s thighs. “You should come to my apartment,” he said, and Billy’s foot twitched.

“...the hell would I wanna go visiting anywhere,” he asked. “Don’t get distracted—”

“I’m not, look, I’m stopping here, I’ll restart in the right spot,” Steve said, resting his whole hand on Billy’s thigh just below his ass. He shivered. “I’m saying come stay with me, okay.”

After a long pause, Billy lifted his head from the pillow. “...what,” he croaked.

“Come stay with me.”

“...are you fucking serious,” Billy shot back, glaring over his shoulder. “Don’t fuck with me, Harrington—”

“I’m not,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. “My apartment faces south, man, sunny all day.” Billy’s breath caught. “Think about it,” Steve told him, bending to carefully check Billy’s legs for the black veins of the Mindflayer.

That night, Steve’s phone rang. “Were you serious?” Billy said, with no preamble. “I can come stay with you?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, winding the cord around his finger, his cheeks irrationally flushed. It was just Billy, he told himself, glancing around the apartment and wishing it was nicer. The carpet looked older than Steve was, he thought in dismay.

“For how long,” Billy said softly, like there had to be a catch, and Steve shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, Hargrove, jesus. I can’t let you go home.”

“...the hell did Max tell you,” Billy hissed, and Steve blinked.

“She said your room had no sun.”

Billy started laughing—Steve hoped the noise was laughing, anyway, at least mostly—and then hung up.

The day Billy was released, Steve took him straight to a tanning salon, and he emerged half-asleep from the tanning bed, so sleepy and quiet he didn’t even resist Steve carrying him back out to the car.

He did have a lot to say about getting piggy-backed up the stairs to Steve’s apartment, like “Giddyup”, “Yee-haw”, “You just want me wrapped aorund you,” and “What the shit, Harrington, three stories, I’m gonna be trapped up here like fucking Rapunzel.”

“Didn’t a king put her in a tower to weave gold,” Steve asked, panting, and Billy laughed against his shoulder.

“That was Rumpelstitzkin. Wrong story. Rapunzel, a witch did it. They traded her for salad.”

“They fucking what,” Steve said, staggering to a stop on the stairs, and Billy burst out laughing.

“Keep walking, your majesty. Don’t drop me.”

Steve reached and flicked the lights on, and then carried Billy inside. His mom had gotten rid of his kid’s bed, so he’d just hauled his queen size out to the front room, in front of the windows, and he lowered Billy next to it, turning to grab him as he stumbled, looking around.

“...there’re cactuses growing on your windowsill,” Billy pointed out, and Steve nodded.

“It’s so sunny in here cactuses grow,” Steve informed him proudly. “I thought that one looked like you—”

“Sturdy?” Billy suggested, smirking. “Prickly?”

“Pain in my ass,” Steve told him. “Here, sit down before you fall down. Okay, these lamps?” he pointed, walking over, “—sun lamps, okay. They’ll keep it sunny year-round—”

“...why do you care if it’s sunny year-round,” Billy asked flatly, and Steve blinked over at him. “I already don’t know how I’m gonna pay you back for this,” Billy gritted out. “The fuck do you mean year-round.”

Steve bit his lips together, thinking how weird and pathetic it was that he’d been so excited to have Billy come he’d lost sleep, bought grow lamps and cacti, and scrubbed his whole fridge out that morning at three, after it occurred to him, lying awake, that he hadn’t since he moved in. He walked into the kitchen, and started getting out the chicken soup fixings he’d been assured Billy could eat. “...I put a plastic lawn chair in the shower for when you can take showers,” he said, and heard his bed creak. He looked over to see Billy standing, gripping the headboard, but then he sat again, swearing.

“Harrington,” he hissed.

Steve told him about the hours he kept, and the plan with Max to bring Billy’s things, and Billy muttered darkly, and eventually complimented Steve’s soup like he was mad to admit it was good.

That night, he squirmed next to Steve, slowly, because he couldn’t move fast, his breathing catching, then evening out, then gasping again.

“...you need anything?” Steve asked finally, and Billy was silent for a long time, like he was holding his breath.

“Maybe I should shave my head,” he said, casually, out of the blue, and Steve couldn’t help it, he snorted a laugh, dissolving into snickers.

“What?!” he hissed, still giggling.

“Can’t check under my hair,” Billy said, nearly inaudibly, and Steve groaned, then scooted closer, and reached up to find Billy’s shoulder in the dark.

He slid his hand up and through Billy’s curls. “S’warm, right?”

“...yeah,” Billy breathed.

“Doesn’t like warm,” Steve whispered back, sliding his fingers through every inch of Billy’s hair, slowly, so heat could build. “If this feels bad, we’ll know, right?”

“......yeah,” Billy said, after an even longer pause.

“...so does it?” Steve asked, after a while, and Billy didn’t answer. Steve suspected he’d fallen asleep, but he made sure to finish.

While Steve got ready for work, Billy was arranging himself in the bed, centered in the windows with his naked ass hanging out. He sighed contentedly, and Steve groaned.

“Tell me you put sunscreen on,” he said, and Billy glared over.

“I can’t put a shirt on, Harrington. It’s fine—”

“You’re gonna be pissed if you get sunburned,” Steve told him, grabbing the sunscreen he’d bought for the time he took the Party camping, before they were too old for fun. Billy stared at him, but Steve had had girlfriends, and he was a good babysitter, so he was an expert at warming sunscreen just enough, and not letting his fingers linger anywhere they weren’t supposed to be.

Billy lay stiff as taxidermy as Steve rubbed sunscreen into his shoulders and arms, and then down his back—and then paused, because usually there was swimsuit there, and Billy cracked up the hardest Steve had ever heard him laugh. He ever kicked his foot a little, snickering at Steve’s bad life choices.

Steve slapped a lotion-gooey hand on Billy’s ass, defiantly, and Billy yelped, laughing harder, and curling a little on his side, so Steve had to shove him on his face again to get him around the side of his butt.

“What are you doing,” Billy groaned into his pillow, cackling as Steve got his thighs and down the backs of his knees.

“I just don’t wanna find you burned to ashes, like a vampire,” Steve said, blushing harder than ever, and then patted the calf of Billy’s leg. “Flip over.”

“...I’ll get the front,” Billy said, still sniggering. “I promise. I swear, Harrington—”

“...you better,” Steve said, a little relieved, and a lot disappointed. He shook his head hard, and left the sunscreen where Billy could get it.

When he glanced back, Billy’s whole body was much redder than Steve’s squeamish lotioning could explain.

That night when he got home from work, he brought a pizza. Billy eyed it doubtfully, but accepted the offered plate. He stayed on the bed, watching Steve watch TV, until Steve waved him over, making a face.

“D’you need help getting off the bed, or something?” he asked, and Billy shook his head, narrowing his eyes.

“Not gonna risk it,” he said. “You felt me up too good this morning. Might get ideas.”

Steve threw an olive at him, and Billy popped it in his mouth. Steve watched him lick the drooping tip of the pizza into his mouth, and the grease shining on his lips. Steve cleared his throat, and fixed his eyes on the TV screen.

“So if I’m the spiky one,” Billy said, pausing halfway through the pizza slice to lay back on the bed, “—who’s the other one? You got two cactuses in your life?”

“Max,” Steve told him absently. “I was asking the lady at the store how to keep it sunny enough for a cactus in here, and so she thought I’d buy some, y’know.”

“...I guess when you start bringing a girl around, you’ll get something pretty,” Billy said, not any particular way, and Steve realized he’d been listening closely for tone.

“Cactuses have flowers,” Steve told him, and Billy pushed himself up again, watching Steve’s face.

Steve didn’t know what to do with that, except stick his tongue out, or something, so he stuffed the whole rest of the pizza slice in his mouth, and chewed.

Billy could mostly take care of himself, except for being a little crazy. Steve asked Dustin what it was called if something couldn’t live without sunlight, and Dustin said photosynthesis, so that was what Steve told his neighbors Billy had. He jerked awake nearly every night no matter how long he baked himself the night before, breathing shakily. Sometimes, it worked for Steve to slide a hand over and touch his shoulder, and then smooth his hand over Billy’s skin, reminding him the Mindflayer didn’t like it warm.

“You could just look, and we could go back to sleep,” Billy mumbled, but he scooted closer as Steve smoothed a hand along his ribs, and down his hip.

“Too sleepy, no lights,” Steve groaned, flopping half on top of him, and Billy laughed until they were both awake.

Once, he tried to escape Steve, who scrambled the other way, thudded to the floor with a loud crash at 3am, and woke the neighbors, who yelled up through the floor asking if they were okay.

Billy and Steve snickered in horror over that one, and Steve tried to sleep on the couch, that night, despite Billy’s continual whispers of “You know you’d rather get some, Harrington. Get back over here. I’m lonely, Harrington. Put your hands on me, Harrington.” He started singing it, softly, then louder, like their neighbors weren’t tortured enough, and finally Steve groaned, laughing, and tromped back over to crawl into bed.

“You want my hands on you, huh,” Steve whispered, daring to scoot close and slide a hand around Billy’s waist, pulling their whole bodies against each other. “...warm enough?” he asked, and Billy nodded, frozen stiff like a board against his chest.

“...what were you dreaming?” Steve whispered, against Billy’s ear, because usually Billy curled into his warmth, edging towards him even asleep, until they were a mess of arms and legs and their skin stuck together a little with sweat.

Billy took a slow breath, then let it out. Steve waited, but he just kept...breathing, until Steve finally grunted unhappily against his neck, and snuggled closer. They didn’t get much sleep, that night, since Billy kept twitching awake, and finally Steve got up and turned on the sun lamps, and yanked off the blanket to run his hand up and down Billy’s lower back.

“...d’you wanna kiss me,” Billy finally said, flatly, like he was mad, and Steve froze.

He thought about the way Billy knew exactly how to make Max mad—but teased her about something else, instead, after listening to her scream as he went down at the mall. The shine of the pizza grease on Billy’s lips, and how pink they’d been, after he licked them. How he sat up a little every time Steve walked in the room, like Steve Harrington was someone to get excited about.

“...you don’t, do you,” Billy said, even more firmly, his hands clenched on Steve’s, around his waist. “Fuck. Forget it.”

“What the hell, no, I’m not forgetting it,” Steve hissed, and Billy laughed, less happily, this time.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s what I was dreaming about.”

“What if—what if I do. Want to,” Steve mumbled, feeling like a moron, and Billy went all stiff and uncomfortable in his arms again.

“Make up your mind, Harrington,” he growled, and Steve sat up, so Billy fell on his back with a sputtered “Fuck!”

Steve licked his lips, staring down at Billy’s glowering face and set jaw, going golden in the first, early rays of the sun. He leaned in for a kiss.

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

#Harringrove #Harringrove April #Billy's having a weird time #Steve decides to give him another chance #He's glad he did

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k-n-e-o · 5 years ago

Text

Nct dream reaction to their s|o crying when they get mad and they hate it.

Requested? Yeppers

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Warnings: None? A couple arguments if that counts

A|n: Sorry I hadn’t posted for a little bit, I was having to deal with some important stuff sooooo... yeah.

_____________

Mark

Mark and you had only been dating for a couple of months and there was still quite a bit you had to learn about each other.

You and Mark were driving to a date when an argument sprung up.

It wasn’t too bad of an argument but it ended up feeling like it because you two were stuck in traffic and you both were getting hungry.

“No mark, it’s-”

As you were talking, mark interrupted you and disagreed with you.

You took a deep breath to calm you down, but to avail. You snapped.

Mark just sat there as you talked back to him. After you were finished mark continued to stay quiet as he watched you (Which he could do considering you were in very slow-moving traffic)

He felt bad when you started to cry. He reached over and grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb on your palm.

“Hey, don’t cry, I’m sorry, I overstepped”

You shook your head, “No I’m sorry that I’m crying, it’s frickin’ stupid”

“Don’t be sorry for something you can’t help”

“I know it’s just frustrating”

The argument would be long forgotten but mark wouldn’t let go of your hand even when you reached your destination.

------

Renjun

You were having a disagreement with Renjun, one that you’ve had countless times but this time you were really riled up

Your day was not going to plan, one mishap after another.

You finally felt like you had a break when Renjun messaged you, asking if you wanted to come to the dorm.

It started out okay until Renjun mentioned something and it just set you off.

Now five minutes into your disagreement you were so close to your wit’s end, you felt the familiar lump in your throat and the tears starting to fall.

Renjun had to stop for a moment. Were you really crying? You’ve never been that mad with him before.

“Are you crying?” You shoot a glare at him.

“No”

“But there are tears on your face”

“Shut up”

Renjun would wipe your tears from your face with a small little smile “Why are you crying?” he says with a little chuckle

You brows furrow and you angrily wipe your new tears away. “I don’t know but I hate it”

“I think it’s cute” You glare at him and sniffle.

———

Jeno

You’d be trying a new game that Jeno recommended and there was this one spot that you could not get passed no matter how hard you tried.

With a huff, you glared at the screen with the smiling character that seemed to mock you.

The longer you stared, the angrier you got.

Tears welled up and you pursed your lips.

Jeno stopped by your place after practice only to find you sitting in your seat with tears running down your cheeks.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” He sits beside you and plays with your fingers a little

“The stupid game” you grumble, “And these stupid tears”

Jeno tries not to smile at your struggle but he can’t help himself, your just too cute.

“I get the game but why are you upset with the tears?”

“I cry whenever I get mad and it’s so frustrating” your frustration with your tears causes you to cry more.

Jeno just hugs you and lets you get your frustration and anger out.

“It’s okay, I do that too”

(I completely forgot while I was writing Jeno’s that he also cries when he’s mad sooo…. oops)

------

Haechan

Haechan had just finished telling you about the saesangs that are causing trouble and you got so upset. Haechan sat there and watched you rant about it all. To be honest he was kind of glad he had someone besides the boys to talk to and rant with about it all.

“Damnit” You wipe the tears away, “Not again”

Haechan didn’t even ask what was wrong, he just hugged you.

“Haechan, what are you doing?” You craned your neck to try and look at his face.

“Whenever your sad I hug you, your sad so I’m hugging you.”

“I- I’m not sad Haechan, I just cry when I’m mad, that’s all” Haechan nods but doesn’t let you go.

“Are you going to let me go?”

“Nah” He holds you tighter and kisses your neck.

You stay like this for a while before haechan pulls back with a grin.

“Did you really get so upset that you started crying?” You glare at him and hit his shoulder.

------

Jaemin

It was just a really frustrating day and you were retelling it all to Jaemin but all the anger came back and you broke into tears.

Jaemin calmly hugs you, letting you cry into his shoulder as he pets the back of your head.

“Why are you crying?”

You glare up at him and blatantly state, “Because I’m mad”

“But I haven’t done my coffee dance”

Jaemin backs up from you and starts doing his ridiculous coffee dance. You hold back a laugh as you watch him.

“No, it’s only bad when you do it in public” Jaemin smirks and heads for the front door where he jogs onto your front lawn.

You watch through the open door as Jaemin overdramatically does his coffee dance.

“No Nana, stop” You laugh

Jaemin will definitely try and make you laugh until you forget about what you were mad about, and in the end stopping your tears.

(this was a mess sorry)

------

Chenle

You were over at his parent’s place and things weren’t going so well. Chenle kept trying to tell you that his parents loved you and that all the mistakes that happened weren’t as bad as you thought they were, but you wanted things to be perfect. And let’s be honest, they weren’t. (You tripped the moment you entered their house, you spilled your drink, and accidentally knocked over chenle’s as well)

You were frustrated with yourself for not only making a fool out of yourself but for also making a mess of they’re poor floor.

Chenle froze for a second as he saw your lips quiver and a tear or two fall.

“Don’t cry, the floor can be cleaned baby”

“It’s not- I’m not- I hate that I cry” You wipe the tears away aggressively. Chenle would chuckle a little and hold your hands.

“I like it”

“You like that I cry when I’m mad?” You give him a look and he laughs again.

“No no I mean, it makes you who you are, in a way and I like you so I like that you cry…”

“You’re digging yourself a hole” You laugh.

“I know”

------

Jisung

One of your friends was not being so nice recently and you both were just getting on each other’s nerves.

You were spending time with jisung, ranting about your friend and as you kept ranting, your anger was building up.

Jisung wouldn’t really know what to do when you just burst into tears. He’d seen jeno when he was mad but how he treats jeno, his friend is different from how he treats you, his s|o.

He just sits beside you and caresses your arm or knee (Maybe thigh but idk this boy is kinda shy sometimes) and just lets you continue on.

When more tears start to fall and you start to get mad at the tears jisung will quickly search for tissues and he will dab away your tears, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Don’t cry”

“You think I want to cry?” You snap, “Sorry”

Jisung shakes his head and continues to dab away your tears.

Jisung won’t stop caressing your arm until your feeling better.

____________________

I hope you enjoyed 💙

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tickly-trashcan · 4 years ago

Note

13, 14, and 22 with ticklish Sero and ler either Kaminari or Kirishima (maybe both) please and thank you! And congratulations I’m so proud of you! 🎉🍾🎈🎊 Keep up the amazing work and try not to stress too much. Hope you’ve had an amazing Holiday and have an even better New Year! You’re amazing! 😁💖

Study Session?

A/N: Ok ok, i normally just screenshot the ask for a prompt then make a separate post for easier posting, but this gif was too cute! Thank you for the request, always love to write for Sero! Hope you guys have a lovely day and enjoy as always!

Summary: Sero has invited Kirishima and Kaminari over for a study session. After Kirishima brings over some snacks, what does he discover about Sero?

Word Count: 1.3k (under the cut)

Sero clicked his tongue, leaning back against his chair, hands behind his head.

“None of this makes sense,” He groaned, looking up at the ceiling. Kaminari whined from the floor.

“If it doesn’t make sense for you there’s no way I’m gonna get it!”

The door to Sero’s dorm opened, and Kirishima walked in with a plastic grocery bag and a grin on his face. Kaminari immediately lit up at the sight of the bag, jumping up from the low table that he was sitting at doing his homework.

“Snacks??”

“Snacks!” Kirishima repeated, walking in and dropping the bag in the center of the table, Sero turning around in the chair at his desk as he whistled.

“That’s a big bag, Kiri, what’d you bring?”

“Oh you know, gummy worms, chips, chocolate, cookies-”

“Cookies?” Kaminari exclaimed again, immediately digging through the bag in search of said snack. Kirishima laughed.

“They’re the lemon sugar cookies I know you like,” Kirishima said, rubbing the back of his neck as Sero got up from his spot as well to inspect the bag of snacks.

“Fank uu!” Kaminari said, mouth full. Kirishima and Sero laughed, Sero reaching into the bag to pull out a bag of chips, opening it and popping one in his mouth.

“Thanks for the snacks dude, we needed something for our brains.”

“You guys have brains?” Kirishima joked, nudging Sero’s side with his elbow. Sero giggled, jumping away at the touch as he stuffed his hand back into the back of chips, munching on a few more before Kirishima stared at Sero with an odd expression. Sero stared back, confused at the look on Kirishima’s face.

“What’s up?”

“Why are you giggling?”

Sero stopped his munching. He felt a bit nervous at those words. Did Kirishima catch on to his secret? Well, it wasn’t a secret as much as it was the rest of his friends just hadn’t found out yet.

“Oh, nothing, just your joke was funny,” Sero said quickly, chewing on a few more chips as he sat next to Kaminari who was eating one of the cookies as he scribbled down some notes in his notebook.

“Kaminari, your notebook’s upside down,” Sero pointed out, making Kaminari let out a squeak of embarrassment.

“Oops…”

Kirishima and Sero laughed at their friend playfully, Kirishima taking a seat next to Sero and reaching into the bag of chips as well.

“What subject are you guys on right now?” Kirishima asked, looking over as Kaminari quickly erased his upside down notes.

“History, we’re in the unit when Quirks first started appearing.”

Kirishima nodded, reaching into the chip bag again as he pulled out his own notebook from his backpack that he had also brought with him.

Sero stood up and went to grab his own notebook that sat on the desk, sitting down between Kaminari and Kirishima again and setting to work on writing down some notes.

He was writing cleanly, until Kirishima poked his side again and made him draw a scribble all over his notebook as he squeaked. He slapped a hand at Kirishima’s, furrowing his brows in mock anger as Kirishima laughed.

“Looks like someones ticklish,” Kirishima laughed, poking Sero several more times as giggles started to pour from Sero’s mouth, dropping his pencil and immediately pushing at Kirishima’s hands as Kaminari looked over from where he was sitting, still chewing on a bit of cookie. He swallowed quickly, poking Sero’s other side as he yelped, now spinning around to defend himself from Kaminari.

“Wait, you’re ticklish?!”

Sero shook his head, giggles continuing to erupt from him as Kirishima now scribbled his fingers along Sero’s side, making him squeak in surprise and giggle even more than before.

“Oh, I definitely think he’s ticklish,” Kirishima teased, now squeezing Sero’s side as he yelped, falling backwards as Kirishima and Kaminari following him, now looming over him.

“I-I’m nohohot!”

Kaminari and Kirishima grinned, making Sero squeak in fear as he started to crawl away, Kirishima quickly grabbing Sero’s leg and pulling him back.

“Not so fast, tape boy,” He jeered, scribbling a finger behind Sero’s knee as he shrieked, kicking his leg around as he pulled at Kirishima’s grip. Kaminari crept up behind Sero and dug his fingers into his hips, making Sero shriek as he threw his head back, almost hitting Kaminari.

“Nohohoho!”

Sero’s torso now rested in Kaminari’s lap as he thrashed around, Kirishima holding his legs as he tickled his knees, Kaminari attacking Sero’s hips. Laughter echoed through the room as Kaminari and Kirishima kept up the torture on Sero.

“EhehehEHEHE! W-Wahahait!”

“Look how pink he is!” Kaminari pointed out, giggling as Sero immediately covered his face out of pure embarrassment of his situation. Kirishima barked out a laugh.

“Stop covering your face! Kaminari, can you take care of that?”

Kaminari nodded, scribbling his fingers underneath Sero’s arms, making him shriek and immediately retract his hands from his face.

“NAHAhahaha you guys! Stohohohop it!” He cackled, squirming around in the grip of his best friends, trying desperately to escape the ticklish prison he was currently a hostage in.

Kaminari scribbled his fingers along Sero’s tummy, making him arch his back and screech as he cackled louder than before, immediately catching the attention of both the ticklers.

“That was quite a reaction,” Kaminari commented cheekily, continuing to spider his hands across the expanse of Sero’s tummy, making him snort as he continued to cackle loudly. Kirishima was now squeezing Sero’s knees as he kicked his legs around as much as he could, his face bright red as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

“Plehehehehease! No mohoHOHORE!” He begged through his hysterical laughter, throwing his head back when Kaminari dug his fingers into his hip bones, a tear trickling down his cheek as he laughed hysterically.

“What’s that? You want more? Okay!” Kaminari teased, now wiggling his fingers under Sero’s arms, making him clamp them back down as he shook back and forth on Kaminari’s, bubbly laughter pouring from his lips as Kirishima began to tickle Sero’s socked foot, making him instinctively pull his legs, even though his ankles were currently in an armlock thanks to Kirishima.

“He’s ticklish everywhere!” Kirishima exclaimed, digging his fingers under Sero’s toes as he squeaked, tugging his legs and thrashing around almost violently as he was bombarded with ticklish sensations.

“GuhuhuhuHUYS! Noooo! DohoHOHOHON’T!”

“Don’t what?” Kirishima asked, smirking.

“Dohohon’t tickle mehehEHEHE!” Sero yelled, flopping around on Kaminari’s lap. Kirishima clicked his tongue, grinning.

“We almost had you there. Kami, I think we should probably stop,” Kirishima said, letting go of Sero’s ankles and halting his tickling. Kaminari, however, continued to draw out hysterical laughter from Sero as he scribbled one hand on his tummy as the other dug under his arm.

“Oi, Kaminari…”

“HeheheheHEHELP!” Sero wailed, reaching a hand up dramatically to Kirishima, who quickly took his hand equally as dramatically.

“Kaminari, it’s time to stop.”

“But we just started!”

“Kaminari-”

Kaminari sighed, but relented, because the look in Kirishima’s eyes meant that if he didn’t stop he would end up being the next victim. He stood up next to Kirishima as they watched Sero pant beneath them, one arm over his face as his chest heaved up and down. Kirishima reached an arm down to Sero to help him up, and he quickly took it, standing up as he continued to breath heavily.

“Y-You guys are cruel,” He whined, and Kirishima only laughed.

“We’re not cruel, we just love seeing you laugh!” Kirishima said brightly, making Sero blush slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck gingerly.

“Yeah, sure.”

Kaminari quickly piped in, “Now can we finish the notes? I’m already forgetting some stuff.”

“You’re like a goldfish, Kaminari,” Kirishima said, shaking his head. Kaminari smiled.

“Thanks!”

“It wasn’t a compliment dude,” Sero muttered, but he laughed again, sitting down at the table in his room as Kirishima and Kaminari sat next to him, all of them finally getting to those notes.

#bnha #sero #kirishima #kaminari #veryblushyswitch

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rudypankwow · 5 years ago

Text

climb through my window (pt. 3) | jj maybank

not my gif! (posted by @rudypankows)

warnings: underage drinking, swearing, very very mild, also not really proofread oops

word count: 2.5k

masterlist, pt 1, pt 2

a/n: hi!! i know i’ve been slow to post and i’m so sorry :/ i am very much trying just bear with me....there’s lots and lots of jj in this part so pls enjoy. also this didn’t turn out the way i thought it would but i think i like it. do not be fooled. angst is on the way.

You didn’t get much sleep for the next few days. Every sound you heard outside your window sounded like a knock. Of course, it never was.

There was really no explanation for the crush (you had decided it must be a crush) you had for JJ. Your interactions with him were limited, mostly at boneyard parties and occasionally at times when you were at the Wreck. You were pretty sure he’d never even noticed you, until recently, at least, but that never seemed to deter you.

It was about a week after your awkward interaction in the yard, you were still up trying to get some work done. School had started not that long ago, but you were somehow already loaded with assignments. You thought you heard a knock on the window, but you dismissed it, assuming it was something moving around outside. It wasn’t until you heard a “Hey, (y/n),” that you realized it was real this time.

You looked over to see JJ’s face a few feet away, looking back at you. You jumped out of your bed, suddenly wishing you had put on some actual clothes, instead of the pajama shorts and tank top that covered little skin. You walked over to the window, quickly unlocking and opening it wide enough for him to slip inside.

His lip was busted, and he had a large bruise that spread from the side of his cheek and covered his eye. “Hi,” you said simply as he found his footing, trying not to stare at the marks on his face. You had promised not to ask questions, but you weren’t quite sure if that covered things like “Are you okay?” and “Do you need anything?”

“Hey,” he said back, “you were right, it is easy to climb up here.” He reached a hand up to his lip, wincing. It was then you noticed that he was still bleeding.

“Oh, shit,” you say, “you’re bleeding.” You look closer at the cut. “Here, sit down on the couch,” you tell him. “I’ll grab something so you don’t bleed everywhere.” He nods and you step out into the hallway, closing the door very carefully to not wake up your parents. You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, taking a deep breath and splashing some water on your face, before scrambling to grab a few things to clean up JJ’s cut. You soak a washcloth in some cold water for him to put on his eye, too nervous to go all the way downstairs to get an ice pack, as well as a second wet towel he can use to clean up some of the blood.

When you get back to your room, he’s sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed, feet up on the armrest, shoes and all. You walk over to the couch, grabbing his legs and moving them so you can sit.

“Here,” you say, handing him the wet cloth, “I, uh, couldn’t go get you an ice pack for that eye but hopefully that helps a little bit.” He presses it to his dark eye, relaxing a bit. “Let me see your lip,” you tell him, and he turns his head. You use the other towel to wipe the dried blood off his face.

Your attention is so focused on cleaning his face, that you don’t even realize how close the two of you are. It’s not until he exhales, and you feel his breath hit your face, that you realize your face is mere inches from his. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to re-concentrate on cleaning the cut, but it’s no use. You lean away, balling up the towel and tossing it into your hamper.

The silence is awkward, neither of you really know what to say. “Am I-” you cut through the silence, sighing. “Am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”

He laughs. “I thought you said you wouldn’t ask any questions,” he says. You lean against the back of the couch, and before you can defend yourself, “I’m okay,” he tells you. “This stuff happens all the time, right?”

You want to tell him no, it doesn’t happen all the time, but that seems like it could be taken the wrong way. So instead you just say, “If you say so.” It’s silent again, and frankly it starts to become unbearable. You stand up. “I’m gonna get you a pillow and some other stuff,” you tell him. “Do you need anything else?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t think so,” he says.

You nod and go into your closet to grab an extra pillow and blanket, tossing them his way. He catches them and makes himself comfortable. You go back to your bed, closing up all your abandoned textbooks, and dropping them to the ground next to you. It’s a Friday night, meaning you don’t have to worry about waking up early the next morning to get to school, so you don’t worry about putting them back in your bag.

“If you need anything, just wake me up,” you tell him. “The bathroom is the first door to the right. But, please god, be careful if you go.”

He laughs and says, “Got it, captain,” giving you a little salute. You roll your eyes and reach to turn off the lamp. “Goodnight, (y/n),” he hums.

You sigh and say goodnight back. In reality, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to fall asleep while he’s in your room. But you pretend, pulling the comforter up to your chin, so he can’t see your eyes wide awake.

You listen to his breathing, listen to it start to even out as he falls asleep, listen to it turn into light snores. You try to match your breaths with his. You close your eyes, counting each breath, at the top of the exhale. Sometime after 134, you manage to fall asleep.

———————

JJ is gone the next morning when you wake up, which you expected. The blanket is folded and placed on top of the pillow, which you had not expected. You put them back in your closet with a sigh.

This routine happens a few more times. JJ comes over, covered in a collection of bruises and cuts, you clean them up, you go to sleep, and he’s gone by the time you wake up. Sometimes he comes early in the night, sometimes it’s almost 1am. You never ask questions, besides those that you’ve already established are acceptable: “Are you okay?” “Do you need anything?” Falling asleep to the sound of his breathing becomes the only way you can, and the nights when he’s not there become virtually sleepless.

On any other Friday night, JJ knocks on the window. You throw it open, and he climbs in. You go through the routine. Clean his cuts. Forget how to speak for a minute because you’re so close. Grab him the blanket and pillow. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” “Do you need anything?”

JJ laughs at that one this time. “Yeah,” he says, “a beer.”

You laugh back at him, and then remember the handle hidden under your bed. “Well,” you say, squatting down and pulling it out, “does vodka count?”

His jaw drops. “You’re amazing,” he says. “Give me a shot.” So, you do. You pull out a dixie cup from your nightstand, fill it halfway, and hand it to him. He goes to take it and then notices that you’re just looking at him. “Aren’t you gonna take one too?” he asks.

You normally wouldn’t, not in your room on a Friday night with one other person. But you decide, why not. So, you shrug and pour yourself a shot of your own, downing it immediately. You try to not make much of a face, to seem “cool”, but you can’t help your sharp intake at the taste. “That’s my girl,” he says anyway, taking his own shot. You’re pretty sure your heart actually does stop beating that time.

You don’t mean to get drunk, per se. Maybe just tipsy. Maybe just enough that he’ll say something embarrassing. You’re constantly shushing him, and yourself for that matter. Your parents are only a few doors down, and could definitely hear everything if you get too loud.

Regardless, you did get drunk.

You weren’t sure how drunk JJ was, but he was taking two shots for every one you took, so he couldn’t have been sober. You were falling, he was laughing, it was a mess.

“Okay,” you said around 2am, “I’m gonna go to sleep.” You were slurring your words, but you were also determined to act like you were fine. He was tough, you had to pretend you were too.

You flopped down on your bed, getting under the covers. “Hey,” JJ said, “don’t you want to put on some comfy clothes?” You looked down, realizing you were still in jeans,

“Oh, shit,” you laughed, standing back up. You gave yourself a minute to balance before walking to your closet and pulling out some shorts and a t-shirt. “Can you, uh,” you stuttered, “close your eyes or something?” you asked.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, quickly covering his eyes with both his hands. “I’m not looking.”

You were confused. Where was the womanizer you had heard so much about? He was willingly covering his eyes while you changed. You kept your gaze on him, changing quickly, hoping he didn’t open his eyes out of nowhere. He didn’t. He didn’t even try.

“Okay,” you said when you were done.

He didn’t take his hands away from his eyes. “I can look again?” he asked.

You laughed. “Yes,” you said, “I’ve got pajamas on.” He nodded and took his hands away, peeking first to make sure you were being serious. You shake your head at him, climbing into your bed and leaning against the headboard. Immediately you feel like you could fall right off. You close your eyes, trying to stop the room from moving around you. “Woah,” you say. You grab onto the comforter and lean your head back, taking a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You hear him, but your brain doesn’t quite register a reply. “Hey,” he says. You feel the bed dip by your feet, and you slowly open your eyes to look at him. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you pause, “I just did not realize how drunk I was until I sat down,” you tell him. “And now the room is spinning.”

He laughs at you. “You have water right?” he asks, pointing at the bottle on your nightstand. You nod and grab it, taking a few big sips. “Good,” he adds. “You’ll be okay.”

He starts to walk back over to the couch. “Wait!” you almost yell. “You could, um,” you look down at your hands and bite your lip. “You could sleep on the bed,” you say, “I mean, if you want, of course.” You look back up at him.

He smiles. “Do you want me to?” he asks simply.

You really don’t want to play that game. “If you want to,” you say back.

“Okay,” he says. He walks to the other side of the bed, getting under the covers without saying another word.

“Okay,” you sigh, laying back against the pillow. “Oh, my god, the room is still spinning.”

“Oh, my god, come here.” He reaches over to you under the comforter, pulling you into his chest. Your whole body lights up, and suddenly you’re not dizzy because of the alcohol. “It’s because you’re laying down now,” he tells you. You nod, not trusting your mouth to form coherent words. “I have no reason to know if this actually helps,” he says, you can feel his fingers on the skin of your back, where your tank top has ridden up, “I just figured you might feel more steady.”

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath through your nose. You weren’t sure if the shock had sobered you up or what, but it actually did help a little bit. “No,” you tell him, “it does help, actually.” You close your eyes, listening to his heart pound in his chest, your ear pressed almost directly above it.

Maybe it’s just because you’re drunk, but it really seems like his heart is beating just as heavy, and just as loud, as your nervous one.

———————

You wake up with a horrible headache, the sound of snoring behind you. You remember separating from JJ in the middle of the night, rolling over to your side, only for him to roll after you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You could feel his chest pressed against your back. You were almost too scared to move, sure it was a dream and you would wake up any minute, but your heart rate was increasing with every minute, and if you didn’t get up you thought you might forget how to breathe.

So, you moved slowly, gently picking up his arm and placing it back down on the bed. Thankfully, he didn’t wake up. You let out a sigh of relief, going to your closet and grabbing some clothes before walking to the bathroom, careful to close the door tight behind you.

You tried to make yourself feel human again, washed your face, brushed your teeth, put on some clothes, took an Advil. You grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with water for JJ, wishing you could go downstairs and get him an actual cup but not wanting to deal with your parents.

JJ was awake when you went back to your room, his back resting against the headboard. “Oh, hi,” you said. “I brought you some water. It’s not a lot but it’s all I’ve got right now,” you told him, placing the cup on the nightstand and sitting next to him on the edge of the bed

“Oh, thanks,” he says, grabbing the cup and drinking it in one go.

“You didn’t leave while I was asleep,” you said. You look over at him, and you see his cheeks turn the slightest bit pink.

“Well,” he says, “you seemed pretty drunk so I wanted to make sure you were okay when you woke up.” He leans back against the headboard, running a hand through his hair. “I just figured it’s the least I could do.”

You’re about to reply when there’s a knock at your door. Both your eyes good wide, and JJ scrambles to grab all his stuff. “(y/n)?” your mom calls. “I have your laundry.”

“One second, mom,” you yell back, “I’m, uh, changing.” She seems to buy it. JJ hurries over to the window, gently pushing it open in an attempt to not make more noise.

“Hey, (y/n)?” JJ says once he’s out the window. You just look back at him. “I’ll see you soon.” And he climbs down the drain.

You’re pretty sure you had a whole conversation with your mom when she came in, but you don’t remember a single word.

taglist!! considering doing away with this but in the meantime please INBOX me to be on the list, otherwise i will not put you on :) also some of the @s didn’t work so just inbox me again, also if i put you on but you didn’t ask also inbox me bc it’s possible i wrote some of these down wrong

@o-b-x @dolanfivsosxox @casualcolorstarfish @timotaychalabae @sarahsmaybank @amarachoren @imsad05 @dontjinx-it @annedub @thelocalpogue @daygiowvibe @wicked-laugh @sexytholland @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @avashroom @realiteaas

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tinybibmpreg · 4 years ago

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almost forgot to post the next prompt fill today lmao.. anyway fill 4/80, #61 - That is not a good hiding spot. ft my hero turned villain OC LeClerc Clifton (hero name Sharp Shot, villain name Dead Mark), and his hero friend from his former hero team, Sprint.

Bullseye: Bad Habits

“That is not a good hiding spot,” LeClerc’s former teammate told him, raising an eyebrow as they walked up to the motel he was currently staying at.

Sighing as he could feel a headache starting to build, LeClerc replied, “It’s not a hiding spot. It’s just where I’m staying.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. I told you, Sprint, I’m just living here temporarily until I can go home.”

Sprint gave him an incredulous look. LeClerc rolled his eyes and pulled his room key out of his pocket, unlocking his front door. As they walked in, Sprint insisted, “That makes it sound like a hiding spot!” Then, he asked, “Why can’t you go home? Is someone after you?”

“No one is after me, but it’s none of your business,” he snapped. His back twinged and he winced, putting a hand on the small of it. Not a great start to the evening, LeClerc thought. He’d been planning to just relax, have dinner, maybe take a warm bath for his back, and watch some television until he fell asleep. He certainly hadn’t planned on Sprint running into him at the convenience store and demanding that they catch up.

Sprint took his elbow, and LeClerc yanked away, hissing. “Oops, sorry,” Sprint apologized, “-forgot you hate being touched without warning.”

“I don’t like being touched at all.”

Ignoring that, Sprint’s expression grew serious. “If you need any help at all,” he offered, “-I can help you. Any of the team would drop what they’re doing if you’re in danger.”

“I can protect myself,” LeClerc shot back.

Still, he turned his head and flushed. It was sweet that Sprint and the others still cared about him enough to rush to his aid without any information even after he’d abandoned all of them. It made him feel a bit guilty.

But before he could think too much about the events that had led to him leaving his superhero team, Sprint grabbed his shoulders and went, “Sharp Shot, look at yourself! I know you probably could protect yourself, but you’re pregnant! You should have other people looking after your safety. It’s hard enough to protect yourself individually, but your baby too?”

“No touching,” LeClerc hissed before he could process what Sprint had said.

The hero stammered another apology, pulling his hands away as if scalded. He clapped them together to try to keep from being grabby again. LeClerc doubted he’d be able to manage it for very long- Sprint was high energy and high affection. He was always getting up in his friends’ space and touching them, even with reminders not to.

Back on the team, he had gotten used to it. Sprint had eventually learned that if he pulled away not to step with him, and it was easy enough to stand near someone else on the team who didn’t mind the touching.

But now they were alone in a small motel room, and it’d been years since he’d last had to cope with Sprint’s affectionate nature. Never mind that he wasn’t feeling well and was on edge from being pregnant.

Sprint was staring at him, a determined look on his face. But his mouth was twisted down into the slightest frown, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands separating and grabbing at bits of his clothes. He was worried.

LeClerc took a deep breath and reassured his former teammate, “Sprint, I’m fine and I’m safe, I promise. I didn’t want to tell you because I’m a very private person and it’s also kind of embarrassing, but-” His voice caught a bit, and suddenly he felt exhausted and overwhelmed. Sprint’s expression morphed into pure concern.

“Sharp?”

“My wife kicked me out of the house. We had a huge argument and she told me to fuck off for a while. I haven’t seen or heard from her or our daughter in weeks.”

“You have a daughter? Oh, man, I don’t what I’d do if I wasn’t allowed to see my boys.”

“You have kids?”

“Yeah, um, two years ago, I adopted- shit, Sharp, are you okay?”

“Damnit.” He wasn’t, he really wasn’t. He’d gotten through the past few months thinking that every week was going to bring a phone call where his wife would invite him back home and tell him she did in fact trust him around their daughter, that he was still the man she’d fallen in love with.

But it’d been over a month since she’d last left him a message updating him about their daughter and how she still wanted some space and time to think. He hadn’t gotten to talk to his daughter over the phone at all after a disastrous call two weeks after he’d left. Just the thought of it made him tear up just thinking about it now. He’d made a colossal mess of things with his family, and now he was all alone, five months pregnant and miserable, moving every so often from one cheap motel to another somewhere, wasting away.

“Oh man, you’re crying- shit, can I hug you? Maybe you’ll hate this but I’m going to hug you.” Sprint stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. “If I’m hurting you or you hate it just say so, okay?”

Just a minute ago he would have reeled back and snapped at Sprint, but now he buried his face against Sprint’s chest, trying not to sob.

Sprint rubbed his back, leaning forward so his chin was on top of LeClerc’s head. It actually felt quite nice.

Until Sprint, whose mouth moved as much as his hands, started talking. “Uh, I don't know the whole story or anything but your wife kicking you out while you're pregnant and not letting you hear from your daughter is a pretty awful move.”

LeClerc pulled away to look up at him. “What? No, no, that's not-” He wiped his eyes and took a shaky inhale. “I worded that badly. She didn't… kick me out. She just asked for some space. She offered to move back in with her mother, but I didn't want our daughter to have to move, so I left the house.”

“Still, you're pregnant.”

“I didn't know at the time until a couple weeks later… and I don't know if she knows… I've left her voicemails about the baby since we always start arguing when she calls, but she might not have listened to them if she was upset.” He put a hand on his belly, feeling the baby shifting underneath it.

Sprint crossed his arms and tapped his foot, thinking. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “Wait, you’re totally emotionally weird.”

“You’re so comforting,” LeClerc growled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Have you tried calling her? I remember when you got into that big row with Reg it didn’t even occur to you that you could be the first one to try to make peace.”

“I… I don’t think my wife would like that.”

“You need to, I think. Come on, Sharp,” Sprint coaxed him. “You’re five months pregnant and don’t look so good. You need to go home and work things out with your wife. If she’s nice like you said, then I’m sure whatever happened will blow over once she knows you’ve got another little one on the way.”

Cordelia would push aside their argument and welcome him back home as soon as she knew he was pregnant. She cared about and loved their daughter fiercely. So much that she’d asked him to leave to protect her. She’d surely feel just as strongly about their new child. Their argument would be put on hold for quite a while now that he was pregnant.

But still, the question he’d been steadfastly avoiding came to the forefront of his mind, making him feel sick. What if Cordelia did know he was pregnant and hadn’t asked him to come home, didn’t want him to come home? It seemed impossible, but what if she was that upset with him, that afraid for their daughter’s safety that she was willing to leave him waiting forever? Maybe she was frightened that the baby would be like him, dangerous. Or maybe she was just waiting for the baby to be born, so she could take it away from him.

Maybe he was too dangerous to be trusted around his own children.

He grit his teeth. LeClerc hadn’t dared to let himself think that, that his wife was right in her belief that he couldn’t be trusted to keep their young daughter safe, that he willingly put her in harm’s way. The past few months he’d firmly believed that Cordelia just didn’t understand. But maybe she was right, that he was the one who didn’t understand. He just wanted to make sure his daughter could protect herself, just as he’d been able to protect himself at her age. But she got hurt more often than not when he took her out and tried to teach her, scared her with warnings and stories from his past.

I should probably tell her, LeClerc thought, stomach lurching. I should tell Cory she was right, I’m dangerous, and she should take the kids and forget about me. But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to see his daughter again, wanted to go home and be with his family.

“You’re doing that thing you did,” Sprint said quietly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“What thing?”

“When you quit the team and vanished, you were always thinking a lot. You’re doing it right now. Don’t do something crazy, please. Think about your family.”

LeClerc didn’t want to think about any of this anymore. He tried to calm himself down by reasoning that he always thought the worst and was too negative. Cordelia was probably just busy or upset with him or kept forgetting to call him. If he just stayed in his motel room and made sure his phone was on and charged, then eventually she would call and he wouldn’t have to feel so horrible. Everything would work out. It had to.

His hands shaking, he went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. As he fished out what he was looking for, he announced to Sprint, “I need a smoke.”

“What?”

He opened his pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, then pulled out his lighter. He headed for the door, recalling that the motel had a ‘no smoking in the rooms’ rule. When Sprint didn’t follow him, he turned back and asked, “You coming?”

“You smoke?”

“I’ve always smoked.” LeClerc raised an eyebrow. Surely Sprint hadn’t forgotten that he smoked. He’d asked him to use his superspeed to run to a gas station and get him a new packet a few times on missions.

Sprint gave him an odd look and glanced down at his belly. LeClerc frowned, his face hot as he realized why Sprint had sounded so surprised.

“It’s… it’s fine, Sprint. It’s just one. I probably won’t even finish it.”

“Sharp, that stuff’s really bad for you, especially with your baby.”

“The baby will be fine. I hardly smoke at all compared to how I used to back in the day.”

“You shouldn’t be smoking at all! God, do you still drink?”

He felt ashamed, but tried to reason, “It’s just to help me relax. I had a few cigs and drinks here and there when I was expecting my daughter, and nothing happened.”

Sprint looked torn. “It’s still not good for you.”

“I hardly do it. I’m stressed out, that’s all,” LeClerc promised him. He didn’t dare mention that he’d been very stressed the past few months, especially so during the past few weeks. He stepped outside and brought the cigarette to his lips. It took him a few tries to light it, his hand shaking around his lighter, and then he took a long drag and sighed, leaning against the wall of the motel. Sprint came out and closed the door behind him.

His expression was disapproving and a little bit sad, so LeClerc stared across the parking lot instead. As he smoked, Sprint was uncharacteristically quiet.

Midway through the cigarette, LeClerc’s former teammate found his voice again. “That’s a nasty habit.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Make sure you call your wife, yeah? I should head out. Gotta pick up my kids.” Sprint took a step forward, getting ready to run. He blurred and just like that, he was gone.

LeClerc sighed and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.

#mpreg #male pregnancy #warning for leclerc smoking/drinking during pregnancy i guess #oblio's fics #original story #LeClerc Clifton (Bullseye)#Bullseye - story tag

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beck-a-leck · 5 years ago

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OOPS! @valuvr03 got me thinking and having feels about Jak and Sig and I wrote a thing!

Set post-Jak3, cw for angst, alochol use, canonical character death, and Baby Jak feels! Approx 1.5k words. You can also read it on AO3!

Fair warning, it’s rough, I typed most of this on my phone so who knows what typos there may be.

What About the Boy?

Sig ducked out of the victory party early. Let it not be said that Daxter didn’t know how to scrape together enough booze and merriment to make even sand-crusted Wastelanders forget how truly broken the world was. That kid had a gift for bringing people together. But Sig wasn’t really in the mood for a party, even if he had cause to celebrate.

Before he had gone riding off to war, Damas had named Sig his successor to the Wasteland throne. Sig hadn’t actually thought that would be necessary. But Damas hadn’t made it back from Haven alive. His oldest friend and mentor was gone.

Haven didn’t mourn Damas like Spargus did. Haven had been without a king long enough to hardly miss him. Spargus had sent Damas off to the next life with all the pomp and ceremony he deserved. It was his wake that Sig left early, lingering near the back of the room as Daxter regaled an increasingly tipsy crowd with tales of his triumph over the Dark Makers. When the Ottsel was suitably distracted, Sig stole a bottle of the strongest stuff off the bar and slipped out the door.

He went up to the throne room, figuring nobody would bother looking for him there until tomorrow. The throne loomed in front of him – his throne now, he supposed – but he didn’t take his seat there yet. Instead he eased himself down on one of the lower steps, pulled off his boots, and soaked his feet in the cool water.

He was tired. Precursors, he was so fucking tired.

Sig opened the bottle, tossed the cap off over his shoulder, and took a long drink. He caught his reflection in the gently rippling surface of the water and laughed dryly. If Damas were here, he’d give Sig a swift kick in the ass for moping around like this. Nothing good ever came from sitting on your ass, feeling sorry for yourself.

Sig took another long drink. He stared at the tattoo on his arm, four letters that crawled around the skin, reminding him what was most important. Life. When it was new, it was meant to memorialize a friend, a comrade killed by a Metal Head. Over the years, more lives applied themselves to the ink beneath his skin. And now when he saw it, he would think of Damas and… and little Mar.

Biggest failure of Sig’s life.

It was his job to protect the kid, keep the baby safe from anyone who might want to hurt or use him. And when it came down to it, Sig hadn’t been there. Five minutes was the difference between him protecting the kid and his mom, and utter failure.

By now… the kid had to be dead. If he had been taken to Haven there was no way a kid that young and small could have survived everything that city had gone through. The Metal Head invasion, the war within the city, KG deathbots, and the collapse of the palace, too many children had died in Haven over the last couple years. Who was going to notice one more unclaimed orphan?

Sig had promised to bring Damas’ son back to him. He had failed that job too.

Maybe he should stop making promises.

The rattling elevator drew Sig’s attention. He looked up to tell whoever decided to bother him to go away, but the words died in his throat. He knew that blond hair and blue shirt. If anyone else deserved some time alone after everything, it was Jak.

The thrice minted hero dropped heavily onto the step beside Sig, he took the bottle when it was offered wordlessly. The kid had taken Damas’ death pretty hard. Sig wasn’t surprised, he had seen how much the younger man had grown to respect Damas. Hell, if things had been different, with a little more training and grooming, Sig wouldn’t have been surprised if he declared Jak his successor. They two of them were remarkably alike, in more ways than he suspected either of them realized.

Jak was watching Sig carefully, his eyes trained on his face. Several times he opened his mouth as if to speak, but opted for a drink instead. After the third of forth aborted conversation starter, Sig finally said, “Out with it, Chili Pepper, or just leave me to drink in peace.”

Jak was quiet for a moment more, as if he expected Daxter to jump in and start the conversation, but the Ottsel wasn’t here. The kid would have to get whatever was weighing him down off his chest on his own.

“I know what happened to Damas’ son.”

Sig turned to look at him fully, not quite sure he had heard that correctly. Hope bloomed in his chest. “Mar? You know where he is? Is he alive? Is he okay?”

Jak laughed dryly, quietly, “He’s had better days, but…” he reached into his pocket and pulled something out and placed it in Sig’s hands.

Sig knew what it was without having to even look properly. It was what he had been searching for for the last three years. Mar’s seal, the emblem that would identify the kid. He was supposed to always wear it; he hadn’t been without the seal since his birth!

“Where did you get this?”

“It’s mine,” Jak said.

“No.” Sig shook his head slowly. Jak wasn’t a thief, and he wouldn’t have taken this from a defenseless child, of even from a child’s dead body. Where the hell did he get this from?

Jak drew a deep breath. “You remember the kid Daxter and I went to rescue when we defeated Kor? The one with the Underground?”

Sig shrugged. He hadn’t been involved with the Underground or their side of the battle against the Baron. He had settled in with Krew in hopes the gang lord’s connections to even the darkest corners of the city would help him turn up any clue about the boy. But he vaguely remembered Daxter babbling about some kid that got sent through a rift gate. With a little prying, Jak had eventually revealed that he and his friends had traveled through time somehow, from peaceful Sandover village, Haven’s precursor.

“That kid was me. I was born in this place, in this time, but I grew up in Sandover. We had to send the kid back so he could grow up and become me, and destroy Kor, or he would stay in that time and be safe because I already saved him.” Jak shook his head. “Either way, before the kid left, he gave me the seal. Our seal of Mar.” Jak took the seal back and turned it over in his hands. He was quiet for a long moment before continuing. “I didn’t realize what the seal meant, nobody told me who his father was or why he was important. I didn’t even realize he was Damas’ son until he told me. When he was dying, he said I would know his son Mar from the seal he wore around his neck.”

Sig was dumbfounded. What Jak was suggesting was impossible. Little Mar was six years old, Jak was eighteen. He could accept that the kid Jak had connected with had been Mar, and that Mar was so far out of reach now, he couldn’t return. But the jump between Jak had connected to a lost little kid and had been given a gift, and Jak was that same kid, grown up and angry was a bit too far.

“It’s poor taste to joke about something like this, Jak,” he growled, “I’d expect that kind of shit from Daxter, not you.”

“I know it sounds crazy, Sig. Ask anybody, even Veger. He took me in the first place.”

Sig growled again at the mention of that rat-politician. Veger had always seemed suspicious, but he kept himself so scrupulously clean, even Krew didn’t have any dirt on the bastard. Sig had never been able to get close to him.

He looked back at Jak. His face was honest, even if he was doing his best to keep any emotion off it. Damas hadn’t liked showing weakness like that either. It wasn’t in Jak’s nature to joke about something like that, if he said that he and the kid were one and the same, and the kid was Damas’ son, then Jak believed that he was Damas’ son.

All this time, he had Damas’ son right there and he had never known. That trigger-happy lunatic with a death wish… he should have known. There was so much Damas in the kid. And, Sig realized, in a way he had kept his promise to Damas. He had found his son, protected him, taught him what his father couldn’t, kept an eye on him while he ran off trying to save the world. He had even returned Mar to his father – he had been the one to slip Ashelin the Wastelander beacon before the council exiled Jak.

Sig laugh, low and gentle, and threw his arm around Jak’s shoulders. “Shit, Chili Pepper, at least you made it back.” He fell sober for a moment, looking him over solemnly. “A shame Damas never knew but… he woulda been proud of you, Jak. I know he would have.”

Jak almost smiled, but Sig saw his eyes light up. “Thanks, Sig. I had a good teacher.”

#jak and daxter #becky writes things #i was in the mood for angst and found family feels #and i think I delivered #Jak and Sig's friendship will never NOT be precious to me and make me feel things

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avengersassemble-fics · 5 years ago

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Fine Line

Bucky Barnes x Reader

post-endgame :’(

Summary: The world continued on after the Blip. Some people held onto their memories and some people moved on with their lives. Despite the loss and heaviness of the world around them, five years passed and people kept living. But when the snap was reversed, the Blipped returned to lives that had continued without them. Some families were reunited, and some Blipped came back to empty homes and broken families. Through that loss, seeking someone who understands how their feeling may not be the worse idea as the Blipped try to navigate a world that’s different than what they remember.

part 01/?? “fire and ice”

word count 4.5k

an: um..... yeah..... sorry HAHA oop. angst and sadness sorry. lemme know what you think or else I won't know to continue this. also....the title haha c:

For a lot of people, the blip brought back loved ones and injured broken hearts. Families were repaired and friends reunited with one another. But for some (or a lot of people) they were put back into a life that had moved on without them. In some cases, significant others moved on and started lives with others, friends suddenly weren’t around, family members passed during the years they were gone - for a lot of people it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows when they came back from being blipped. Although little to no time had passed for them, five years passed for the world. It still continued on its axis along with everyone on it.

Being blipped back into existence and then with the outcome of what life was left for you, it was like a rug had been pulled out from your feet. The man you were supposed to be marrying (married to?) had moved on with his life a couple years after your wiping. So for you to return in the same spot of the living room you shared with him, right in front of him and his new wife with their several month old son, wasn’t an ideal way to be thrusted back into life. It was painful to have to watch him love another, but what could be done? He started a family without you, and it took you a couple weeks before you moved back in with your parents. At least they were still around.

Their New Jersey home felt foreign to you now, though they did welcome you back with open arms. They always would, you didn’t doubt it, but the glaring reality of your life was still weighing on your shoulders. Your parents watched you fall into a pit of despair and didn’t know how to help you. You didn’t know how to help you. Most days you sat there and fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to remove it even though it didn’t mean as much now. Not to Derek at least. Or maybe not in the way you had looked at it.

Taking residence in the bedroom you grew up in was distracting to say the least. You were often reminded of the life you once had while living under this roof. Before Derek, before the blip, before all of this. Here you sat in the desk chair in front of your computer with your chin rested on your knee, just scrolling aimlessly through Facebook. You ignored the unopened messages of friends and family reaching out, as they also had traces of messages from the past five years as well, and you couldn’t bring yourself to read them. You didn’t know what you were searching for, if you were even looking for anything, but you scrolled nonetheless.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad when one article caught your eye. It was about ways of coping with returning after being blipped. In the dark, and in your three day of old sweats, you decided this was the time to click on the link. Intrigued you pulled the laptop closer and started to read through it.

Have you returned from the blip and life around you seems to feel different? Maybe empty? Are you struggling with your self worth?

It was like it was speaking to you and you found yourself nodding your head along with each question. You were all of these things, but the things they were recommending made your face fall once more. Maybe you were stubborn, but the thought of confronting people face to face made your stomach churn. You were about to click out of the article when the last recommendation made you stop.

Maybe you feel you can’t talk to those around you about what you’re feeling. And that’s okay. But maybe this website can help you.

There was a link and the website was called hoolablip.com It was a bit tongue in cheek but you still found yourself following that link instead. What popped up was a webpage that allowed you to create a profile, and chat with those who were going through the same thing as you were: returning to a life that left them behind.

You bit your lip and hovered over the sign up link. You had avoided your family, friends, the even idea of therapy, but you felt like you were going stir crazy not having someone to talk to about it. This. Your life. Everything. So you impulsively clicked the button, and began to fill out the questions linked to it. You picked a screen name, inputted a basic bio, and filled out some of the questions. It was simple enough of a process, and soon you were on your very own homepage, but suddenly very unaware of what to do now.

There was a message option and you clicked on that, and went over the words in your head.

What brings you to hoolablip.com? Be as brief or detailed as you’d like. Your message will be sent to a random active user.

Hm. It was a start you guessed. So you slowly typed out a message.

You: I’m not sure where to really start with this. I can’t talk to my family, my friends wonder where I am but I don’t know where I am either. So… I’m here. Writing to a complete stranger in the hopes maybe someone out there can understand what I’m going through, or feeling. Or maybe tell me what I’m feeling because most days I don’t know myself.

You hovered over your keyboard, unsure of how much to express in just this one message. Or what to even include as far as your personal information. But you just let the words come out.

My name is (Y/N), and I was blipped three months before I was supposed to marry my college sweetheart. When we came back, if that’s the right way to describe it, I was right back in the living room of the townhome we shared. But it wasn’t my home anymore. The inside changed, and there was a new family there. His family. I can’t seem to forget the shock on his face, and his wife’s face when I just appeared there. It was an awkward conversation to have in the middle of their home. And I can’t shake it. His wife is lovely, their baby is beautiful, but I still can’t shake it. As selfish as that may sound.

As you typed you didn’t realize the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away.

I’m not sure how to end this off. So maybe this should be it for now. Maybe it finds someone.

And then you hit send. The tension you had felt like it disappeared when you hit send. You sat back in your chair and looked over the message once more before going back to scroll aimlessly through Facebook. There were a number of posts from your friends about their lives. Outings with pictures attached, videos, the same old thing. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand when the sound of a little ding rang through the speakers.

On the tab you had written that long message was a little number one. You got a message back. Oh god, someone had read your message. In the dark you were taken back, and slowly went back to the tab to see a little chat box that wasn’t there before waiting to be open.

The username attached to it was ominous, but the red notification made you open the chat either way. You lingered over the fact their message was equally as long, and you read it over.

LoneWolf17: I can assure you that you aren’t the only one who has no idea what to do besides seek solace from strangers. I think it may be easier for us to open up to someone we don’t know, rather than to those around us.

Deep. That was really deep.

LoneWolf17: I think I can imagine how it must feel to be back in a place that isn’t home anymore. But I can’t imagine how it must feel for you to have to accept the fact he started a life with someone when it was promised to be you. You aren’t selfish. You’re human. And you’re hurt. My name is James. I don’t know what I’m doing here really. I don’t think I have a right to be upset about my best friend leaving me behind to have the simple life he always wanted, but then another part of me thinks that it fucking sucks. He was the only one who believed the best in me when no one else did. He fought for me when everyone else doubted me. We always said we’d stand with one another until the end of the line, but I guess his was finer than mine was.

You had to take a deep breath after that. Though he wasn’t clear on the details, James was hurt by his best friend. And here you were complaining about your love life being in shambles. He still appeared to be online, so you typed up a response.

You: You may be right about it being easier to talk to a stranger than the people around us. Especially when I guess this is the place for all of us who were blipped. Maybe we get each other. I suddenly feel pretty obtuse for complaining about my love life when you lost your best friend, but I appreciate you saying it’s okay to be hurt. I think that’s all I know how to be right now. What do you mean he left you behind for the simple life, if I can ask?

And then you hit send. You didn’t know if your message was good, but you were far out of your comfort zone here. You watched your screen to see two little check marks appear and after a few moments his little picture started to type. You found yourself biting at your nails in anticipation of his next message.

LoneWolf17: It’s a confusing and long story, but he got the girl he always wanted and the life he dreamed of. I won’t be able to see him anymore, though.

You raised a brow, and typed another reply.

You: Does he not live here anymore? Not that I know where here is..

You saw his bubbles pop back up almost immediately. And then another message appeared.

LoneWolf17: Haha yeah something like that. Here being New York.

You: Oh, you’re nearby.

LoneWolf17: Oh yeah? You’re in the city too?

You: Oh no, not since.. Well. You know. I’m in Jersey right now until I can get back on my feet.

LoneWolf17: I see, but not too far still.

You: Haha not too far.

You had migrated with your laptop to your bed, and rested your back against some pillows to watch the screen again. You wondered if you were boring (“dry” you think was a term thrown around now), but you smiled a bit when another message popped up on your screen.

LoneWolf17: So what’s your plan? To get back on your feet?

You: Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. Wallowing in my self pity has been on my to-do list for the last few weeks. I’m not too sure where to start.

LoneWolf17: Well this is a start, isn’t it?

You read over his message once, twice, then three times as you pondered his words. So you settled on this for a reply.

You: You seem to be a man of many insights, James.

His bubble moved again in an immediate response, and then his message appeared just as quickly.

LoneWolf17: Call me Bucky.

- - - - - - - - - -

Over the course of the next week you found yourself checking the website for more messages from your mysterious pen pal, who you called Bucky. Your conversations were casual but they were enough for you to come to your senses. Just a little bit that was. You had enough energy to get out of bed and shower and change. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a start.

Your parents seemed to notice when one day you even ate a bit of breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and toast. They were little nibbles, but it was enough for some pressure to leave their hearts. You tried to ignore their stares as you carried the piece of toast back to your self proclaimed cave and even opened the blinds to let sunlight in.

That’s where you perched yourself most days and looked out the window to watch people, cars, anything pass by the suburban home you hid in. Each day you searched for something in the faces that passed by, but always came up empty handed. If your frustrations grew enough you’d pour over the exhaustive amount of literature that was packed away in the boxes around you.

You had graduated from NYU with a major in english literature studies with a minor in creative writing. You were on your way to receiving your PhD when everything happened. Though you were still awarded it “in lieu of extenuating circumstances” it felt wrong that you had it. You never really finished the work for it. It felt like a handout, and it stayed in a frame in the boxes as well. There was something you were looking for, and you grazed the spines of each book looking at the titles over and over. . .

There. You pulled the red colored (and heavy) book out and flipped through it. Overlooking the notes and highlights that grazed the pages, you came to a page that was left untouched. You ghosted your fingers over the words and looked at your laptop. You carefully sat down in the desk chair and pushed the lid open and found yourself writing another message to your mysterious pen pal, Bucky.

You: I’ve found myself looking at the people who pass by my window to see if they hold some kind of answer to the questions I have, but they just continue on not having a care in the world. It made me think if it’ll be like that for us again. I brought myself to fish out this old college literature book I had to study for hours and hours on end, and I thought about sharing this with you. It just seems to fit the world right now, from my eyes at least.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

You wondered if it sounded too cliche, or if it was too bleak. But it was one of your favorite poems, and now it made a little more sense in today’s world. Your world. You didn’t know if it would strike a chord with him like it did with you, but you sent it either way. It had been a few days since you heard from your chat buddy, and though he wasn’t online you knew he’d get it at some point. You heard your sisters arrival downstairs and braced yourself for her impromptu plan to get you out of the house.

Bucky Barnes was walking side by side his friend Sam Wilson, not really paying much attention to what he was saying to him. There was a chill in the air as the sun had lowered hours before. He didn’t know where Sam was leading him this late at night, but Bucky didn’t question it too much. His mind had drifted once again to the subject that Sam and him never really spoke about. To Steve.

He thought with time it was going to get easier to accept what Steve had chosen for himself. When he told him he was taking all the stupid with him, he didn’t mean to literally fucking take all of it. But how could he even really be mad at his best friend? Steve always wanted that life, and he always wanted it with Peggy. Maybe he was angry at Steve, or maybe he was angry that he never got to make the decision for himself.

“Are you listening to me?” Sam asked him randomly.

“Not really,” Bucky replied, which earned a grumble from the man on his side.

“At least you’re honest,” Sam replied, before stopping in his tracks which made Bucky turn to him, “this is it.”

“What-” Bucky turned to look at the bustling building Sam was motioning to, and raised a brow, “what makes you think this is the place to get intel?”

“Well if you were listening to me in the first place, you would know the lead is an upper east side socialite,” Sam patted his shoulder and started down the alleyway. Bucky grumbled a bit and followed in his steps towards a line that had formed for this nightclub-esque building. Sam cut the line and seemed to have a few words with the bouncer, who let them right in. It was going to be a long night.

The music that pumped through the building made his shoes vibrate, but he followed Sam’s lead through coat check and then around the corner which opened up to a large, vibrant party. To say Bucky was out of his comfort zone was an understatement. He was 10,000 miles out of his comfort zone. The looks he got from people made him cast his eyes down and back to Sam who was leading him further into this mess. It wasn’t until they were literally in the middle of the room did Sam turn to him and clap him on both of his shoulders.

“I’m going to go upstairs, you keep an eye out down here,” Sam had to nearly yell over the music, and with one final slap to his arm, he was gone. Bucky glared at his back as he walked away from him and looked around for a bar. He needed a drink, not that it would do anything for him, he just had to get away from this crowd. The bodies that jumped and knocked against him made him push his way through the crowd a little faster. Oh Sam was going to pay for this one day.

When he finally made it to the bar he gripped the wood edge and pressed himself into it. Resting his arms on the counter and stared at the back of the bartender, trying to see if he could gauge her attention.

“It’s no use,” a voice said next to him, which caused him to glance at his side to the person who was casually talking to him, “I’ve been trying to get her attention for 10 minutes.”

The woman who spoke to him had her eyes trained on the woman behind the counter, not looking his way once while she spoke. Though the lights flashed around the room, there was little to no emotion in her irises. So Bucky turned back to the bartender and waved his hand, which she seemed to catch from the corner of her eye. The bartender did a double take on him and Bucky hid the grin from his face when she headed over. He glanced at the woman beside him whose mouth fell open then quickly closed and watched as the bartender came over to take his order.

“I’ll take a rum and coke,” Bucky ordered and then nodded at the woman beside him, “and whatever she wants too.”

The woman glanced at him as he reached for a couple of bills from his pocket, and looked back at the bartender, “Make that three of those.”

The bartender nodded and turned away from them to make the drinks. Though silence fell over them, it was fine with Bucky. When the bartender came back with all three drinks she spaced them out evenly between them, and gave Bucky another sweet smile. Bucky forced one back, picking up one of the glasses as the woman on his side picked up one of the other ones. Bucky took a generous sip and watched as the woman completely downed one of the drinks and left the empty cup on the counter.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to be here either,” Bucky called out over the music. That when she finally met his gaze and shook her head.

“My sister insisted on dragging me out,” she said to him, and then picked up the other glass and nodded at him as she backed away, “thank you.”

Bucky offered a nod back but she was gone in the crowd not a moment later. He let out a little humph, and turned back to the crowd, his eyes going over the crowd. It was going to be a long night if Sam didn’t get what he needed soon.

- - - - - - - - - -

By the time Bucky had gotten back to his apartment in Brooklyn, he was ready to wash the day's endeavours off of him. It was late, very late, and he could smell the alcohol and smoke on his clothes. He removed his coat and scarf and kicked his boots off and reached for his phone in his pocket. Though technology was still new to him, he was enjoying it a bit.

On his way to his bedroom he swiped through some notifications when his finger landed on an email notification. In the short amount the preview showed him, he could see there was a new message from you. He didn’t know why he frantically opened the webpage, but he did. He rested himself on the edge of his bed and read over the typed words in the palm of his hand, mumbling out loud the poem word for word. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he thought of what to say, and began to type his thoughts.

LoneWolf17: I don’t think I’ve ever read something that spoke to me like that did. How we let our emotions control us even though they could destroy everything around us. So you studied literature way back when? You never told me.

And then he sent it. Though your picture wasn’t illuminated like you were online, he still had solace that you’d see it. It comforted him in a way that you weren’t online, maybe you were doing something for yourself, it seemed you were doing more than just “sulking around” as you liked to call it.

There wasn’t a lot he knew about you, just like you didn’t know a lot about him. But he let you call him Bucky, and you didn’t seem to realize who it was you were speaking with, and a part of him was grateful for that. As Bucky stripped from his clothing and got into his shower, his mind wandered to what he did know about you.

Your picture was one of the sample photos the website lets you pick from, a little penguin, so he of course didn’t know what you looked liked or sounded like, but you sounded smart and insightful. But you were so casual about it that it made him smile a lot when he read your messages. You were also careful and hurting, like him. He knew the story, but he felt he didn’t know your story, if that makes sense. You were funny too, you made him laugh a lot. The times the two of you spent chatting together over the last week was almost like a breath of fresh air for him. He didn’t talk about Steve (minus his name of course) with anyone but you.

When he was done perusing his own thoughts and turned the water off, he reached for a towel to wrap himself in and stepped out and into the steam filled bathroom. He tied the towel carefully around his waist and used his hand to wipe away at the hazy mirror and took in his appearance. He still donned the long hair and beard, and frowned at himself in the mirror. He tried not to let the weight in his shoulder bring him down, and instead went to his bedroom to change.

Bucky grabbed his phone again as he settled onto the bed once more, pulling his shirt down his chest as he saw another new message from you. Now you were online, and he read over your message quickly.

You: Welcome to the wonderful world of Robert Frost. It breaks my heart a bit that you felt the same way about the poem as I did, but then again I’m happy to see you have good taste in poetry.

Bucky chuckled at your sentiment, and scrolled down to the bottom of your message.

You: I was towards the end of my program to receive my Phd in english lit studies, minor in creative writing. I mean they gave me the doctorate but it’s tucked away in these boxes. I don’t feel like I truly earned it, y’know?

LoneWolf17: Don’t let your heart break for me, doll, like you said - I’m just a man of many insights. And my insight is thinking you should still be proud of the work you put into that degree, especially if you were so close to the finish line before the blip. What did you need to do to complete it?”

You: I just had my research to finish.

LoneWolf17: So then why don’t you do it now? For yourself?

His question made you stop and think. Bucky seemed to have a way of doing that to you. As you thought about what he said, Bucky sat staring at his phone wondering if he may have said the wrong thing. But his tensions eased when you typed back

You: I can think about it, man of many insights.

Bucky chuckled to himself, and looked at the time on the top of his phone. It was late, and he could feel the dryness in his eyes when your little bubbles started to move again, he eagerly awaited another message from you when your message popped up again.

You: I hate to end our conversation so soon, but I think I drank a little too much tonight. I think it may be time for me to hit the hay.

LoneWolf17: Is that why you’re so agreeable tonight? You should definitely get some rest.

You: Haha, very funny.

LoneWolf17: Goodnight (Y/N).

You: Goodnight, Bucky.

Bucky watched as your little picture went from glowing to dark, and felt relieved that you were taking yourself to bed. Bucky stood and set his phone down on the table by his bed and then got under the covers, using his flesh arm to rest under his head as he stared at the ceiling. Bucky found himself for the first time in months drifting off to sleep with no thought of his friend, instead he thought about the words of the poem you sent him.

Maybe signing up for that website was a good thing after all.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fic

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