Warnings: Swearing. Angst. I made myself cry writing this so be prepared.
Summary: After breaking up with the love of his life, and three weeks of hardly getting any sleep, Peter ends up going to the one place he knows he shouldn’t be. Your place. But then you and he have a long talk accompanied by tears and heartbreak that ends optimistically.
Requested:(I know you just got a song request, but could you do an imagine based on
Tell Me You Love Me by Demi Lovato? Where Peter and the reader broke up
and either the reader or Peter want them back? Or something along those
lines) by: a very sweet anon
A/N: It’s done! Finally. Hope you all enjoy! I’m actually really excited to post this. Please let me know if you liked it:)
Three incredibly long weeks.
That’s how long it had been since Peter had broken
up with you. And he hated it. He hated to break up with you. To see the
heartbreak carved into your face when he told you ‘I can’t do this anymore.’
The sobs that made your body shake as you begged him to ‘think about this’ and
‘we can work this out! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!’.
It tore him up inside to do that to you, but he felt
like it was the only thing that he could do to keep you safe. And as much as it
hurt to see you in pain and not be his side, he knew he did the right thing.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you.
About being allowed to hug you. To have your hand in his. To have dates where
you marathoned Harry Potter and Star Wars. He missed you. It felt like half his soul was gone.
But still, he stayed away. He avoided you at all costs, and in the
beginning, when you’d try to talk to him about it, he’d turn around and run in
the opposite direction. Because he knew
that if he talked to you, he’d apologize and beg you to take him back.
After a couple weeks though, you stopped trying to
talk to him, and he saw you smiling more and acting like your usual self. Which was good, he thought, you’re moving on.
But Peter got worse as the days went on. He hardly slept, which made him reckless and
sloppy when patrolling. He started staying out later getting maybe two hours of
sleep before going to school. He was trying to distract himself from reality. And,
after a week of hardly sleeping- hardly living- it finally bites him in the
[image transcription: a few screenshots with really useful phrases like “I am ready to die”, “My generation doesn’t eat fish”, “you know, I don’t have any family”, “I am not going to feel well after this dinner”, “We can close the door but he will enter through the window”, and “our gods are dead”]
1. Growing up doesn’t happen all at once. Being persistent in trying is half the battle won.
2. Loneliness can feel a lot like love in the middle of the night. Any text intended to be sent past 2AM can wait until the next day. If your feelings were true, they would still be valid in the morning.
3. Treat people kindly no matter what you’re going through. You will want to be remembered for being that person.
4. You don’t have to change who you are in order to fit in, but it is important to accommodate other’s differences and comfort in your presence. What you think is a small gesture may mean the world to another person.
5. Love on your family, near and far. You never know which hug may be the last.
6. Friends and family may be your support system, but only you can pick up your broken pieces. Accept that you are all that you have.
7. People change. Most times without prior notice, often with no explanation. Wish them well on their way, and move on with your life.
8. Holding onto the things not meant for you will only kill you. Letting them go will set you free.
9. Starting from the bottom does not mean that you’re losing out. It means that your journey forward can only be an uphill one.
10. Thy will be done. Some days you are going to question God’s ways, but you know that His will is ultimately what’s best.
11. It is more important to live your life looking forward than it ever is looking back.
12. You will never forget the people who were kind to you, especially when they didn’t have a reason to be. You will carry a piece of them with you wherever you go.
13. Appreciate everything that you have, even the little things. You don’t get to keep it all forever.
14. When God closes a door, He opens a window. Keep your eyes open to see the silver linings.
15. Not everybody will understand you. But those that do, never forsake them. Never leave them.
16. Sometimes you’ll need to lose yourself in order to be found, then reformed, to be much better than you ever were.
17. Block out the noise that surround you, and focus on yourself. You will move mountains, you will fight. It is you that will bring you places.
18. Peace and contentment comes from living your life from the inside out rather than the outside in. Human recognition may come as one part of the journey, but it should never be the goal.
19. Go out for that 8AM breakfast with your parents. It might be the time you got the most laughs out of the week.
20. Trust your instincts. There’s a reason why it screams louder than the voice in your head.
I’ve been asked a couple of times to do a sneaky peek of Robin and Regina’s Labor Day sexcapades sometime this Labor Day weekend. So here, have a wee peek at the first time Robin goes down on Regina….
Her heart skips a little beat when the doorbell rings, and Regina tells herself it’s silly. It’s not like they’ve never had sex before, or like they’re not going to have dinner first. Still, she’s been looking forward to tonight since Liam left with Henry this morning, and she can’t deny there’s a little sprint in her step as she heads for the door.
Robin is standing on the other side of it with a smirk and a single purple tulip, and a grin splits Regina’s face immediately.
“Nice touch,” she tells him, reaching out to take it, memories of a different tulip so many weeks ago distracting her as he steps inside.
“Thought you’d like it,” he murmurs, and there’s something about his voice, a low roughness, that has her glancing back up from the little bloom just in time for his lips to crash into hers.
She lets out a surprised little “Mm!”, fingers gripping tightly around the stem as his own weave into her hair, his other hand finding purchase at her hip and pushing her back against the door to close it.
It’s a hell of a greeting, his mouth almost too-eager against hers and his warm tongue darting out to beg entrance at her lips. She opens for him, tongues sliding, breath mingling, and that low simmer of desire she’s been nursing all day flares up hot. Her arms rise to wrap around his neck as she presses herself snugly against his front, and, God, he’s already half hard.
“Smells amazing in here,” he mutters between kisses, and she hums, and manages a thank you. “What’s for–mmm–dinner?”
He kisses her again before she can answer, the hand on her hip sliding around to her ass and squeezing in a way that has her grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. God, he can’t ask her questions and then do that.
She manages to get out, “Baked barbeque chicken,” between a handful of kisses, pleased when he moans softly and mutters a Bless you against her lips.
When he asks a breathless, “How long,” she tells him ten more minutes, and he groans, “Perfect,” then gives her ass another good squeeze. The hand in her hair slides down to do the same to one of her breasts as his mouth veers off down her neck in a string of kisses that make goosebumps flare up her neck.
She can feel the way her nipples go tight at the sensation, a moan tumbling free of her, and then he’s sinking to his knees and tugging at the button of her shorts. She lets out a disbelieving little laugh as he yanks her zipper down, a laughing “Robin!” as her shorts plop around her ankles, her thong dragged down with them. (What a shame – she’d worn the lacy grey and lavender one again, the one she’d been wearing last week in August’s office, so he’d actually have a chance to enjoy her in it. He can enjoy them later, she supposes.)
And then he’s looking at her hungrily and, God, licking his lips, and if her heart wasn’t pounding before, it is now. It seems Robin’s in the mood for a pre-dinner appetizer.
Those blue eyes flick up at her for a second, dark and wanting, and then he… devours. There’s not really another word for the way he grasps her hips and leans in to kiss hungrily and open-mouthed over her clit. His tongue firm against her, a little suck to finish it off. And then he moans, she feels the vibration of it against her before he does that same sucking, licking kiss again and again, and Regina gasps and squirms, her fingers weaving into his hair, tulip fluttering to the floor, forgotten.
It’s intense, the flick of his tongue, a careless little graze of his teeth, and he’s moaning against her, fingers squeezing her ass as he sucks again, and it’s hot, it is, but, “Slow down,” she gasps, giving his hair a little tug.
He pauses and glances up, letting loose a questioning little grunt as his tongue drags over her clit again.
Regina swallows thickly, and tells him, “You’re, um, you’re a bit… ahead of me. It’s…” She grimaces slightly, scrapes her nails against his scalp, and urges, “It’s just a little intense to start off with. Slow down, let me get warmed up.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, smiling a little lopsidedly, and skimming one hand from her ass down her thigh, lifting it up over his shoulder to open her to him a little more. She shifts her weight slightly to accommodate – why are they doing this against the door? – as he tells her, “I’ve been thinking about this for a bloody week – the whole bloody summer. I may have gotten a little… overzealous.”
Regina smirks, then sighs pleasantly as he bends back to his task and runs his tongue from her clit down and back up, down and back up. That’s more like it. “Mm, believe me, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” she says softly, “I just… Mmm… I just need some… coaxing…”
He Mms an acknowledgement into her, then chases it with his tongue, tilting her hips slightly so he can let it sink into her and lick and swirl, and oh, that’s nice, that’s… that’s… She shifts her foot a little to adjust her weight again, and frowns.
This is really not the ideal place for this.
“Robin,” she murmurs, nails igniting a shiver along his scalp and making her smile. He drags his tongue up slowly, circles her clit, and then looks up expectantly. “Don’t you think we should move to the couch or something? Somewhere more… horizontal?”
He snickers, breath tickling against her sex, his lips bussing a soft kiss over her clit, and then he shrugs. “I’m fine here, but if you’re uncomfortable…”
“A little,” she admits. “And I’ve been waiting for this too, I want to really enjoy–oh!”
He’s sucking firmly at her clit, just for a second, just once, and then he sits back a little and pushes himself up to his feet, leaning in to kiss her lips.
He tastes like her, and it makes her clench.
“Then lead the way, milady,” he teases when the kiss ends, and so she does.
Or at least, she does for about four steps before she realizes she’s left her shorts by the door and the bay window curtains are wide open. Regina laughs a little, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and says, “If we’re going to do this in the living room, can I trouble you to close the curtains?”
Robin bites into his smile and tells her, “Gladly,” and she leans against the edge of the living room doorway and watches him do just that.
He looks good tonight, in that dark heather-grey v-neck she likes, and jeans that hug his ass particularly well. When he turns back toward her, she can see how hard he is, can see the way his cock is pressing against his fly, and she tilts her head a little, teases, “On second thought, maybe we should take this upstairs – unless you have a condom on you?”
He pauses, shoulders sagging, a groan of frustration ripping out of him before he admits, “They’re still in my bloody locker. I worked last night for Ruby; I meant to grab them.”
Regina just shrugs a little, and says, “It’s alright; I still have some.” She tilts her head toward the stairs, gives her brows a pointed little waggle, but Robin doesn’t perk up much.
He mutters a quiet, “Fuck,” and then shakes his head, insists, “Doesn’t matter right now, anyway. I’m going to eat you out – finally—” that gets a smile out of him, and he takes a few steps toward her to close the distance between them “—and then I’m going to eat some of that chicken, and then we can worry about condoms.”
He has his hands on her bare waist again, his thumbs stroking her hip bones, but all Regina does is lift her brows at him and drop a hand down to cup his erection through his jeans. She watches his Adam’s apple bob as she gives it a slow stroke, and asks, “Do you really have no intention of dealing with this before dinner?”
Robin’s grip tightens on her hips, and he begins to walk backward, pulling her along with him and not at all in the direction of the sofa.
“I’m fairly certain we don’t have time,” he says, assuring, “I’ll keep until after,” as he turns them slightly and steers her toward one of the arm chairs closer to the window – thank God they’d closed the curtains.
She sinks down into it with a little sigh, feeling ridiculously light-hearted (maybe not so ridiculous, considering she has a gorgeous man lowering himself to his knees again in front of her), as she says, “As long as you’re not going to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m good,” he murmurs, distracted again as she leans back in the chair, letting him tug her hips a little closer to the edge of the cushion.
But she balks when he lifts one of her knees to rest oh-so-conveniently on the arm of the chair, and then reaches to do the same with the other. His name comes out in a scolding little laugh, her thighs closing – or trying to, anyway, but he’s between them, so she only really manages to hook one over his shoulder, the other settling back into place on the chair.
His slight change in venue for them suddenly makes more sense, but she’s not sure how much she likes it.
“What?” Robin asks with a little pout.
Regina shrugs a shoulder jerkily and says, “I just feel a bit… on display.”
“As all art should be,” he flirts, dimples winking. Regina snorts a laugh, one hand rising to cover her face for a moment as she tells him he’s ridiculous.
“I wouldn’t call that”—she gestures down between them—“art.”
It’s Robin’s brows rising now, as he lifts one hand to let his thumb skate gently up and down, parting her folds, and murmuring warmly, “I beg to differ, love.”
It’s so…. loving. No, not loving, just… admiring, and her heart does this little flop in her chest, everything in her softening a bit. When he reaches for her knee again and splays it over the chair she just huffs out a little breath, and lets her hand fall over her face again, her belly twisting anxiously in a way that makes her feel absolutely ridiculous.
“When did you come over all shy?” she hears him ask, his smile evident in his voice, just before he presses a gentle kiss just above her clit. His beard tickles the soft skin there, freshly bare from the Brazilian she’d sacrificed a lunch break for on Thursday.
“When you spread me open like a porn star,” she mutters, daring to peek down and find him gazing adoringly up at her, dimples peeking out, his chin settling just above her sex as he reaches up and draws her hand down away from her face.
He presses her palm to his lips, and murmurs, “I intend to enjoy my pre-dinner snack; I wanted unfettered access. Does it really bother you?”
Regina swallows thickly, heart in her throat, and asks lamely, “Do you like what you see?”
Robin’s brows shoot up, incredulous, and he leans back a little, swipes his thumb over her again and murmurs, “Do I like what I see?” like it’s a ridiculous question, his gaze following his thumb as he does. He gives her clit a slow rub, a lazy circle, then lets his thumb sink down and into her. Regina bites her lip as it presses in and up, a lazy throb of pleasure pulsing out in response. He draws it out, and spreads her open a little more, then looks up to meet her gaze, and tells her, “I love what I see. I want to get very up close and personal with what I see. I want to map every bit of what I see with my tongue, and then make you come so hard you damn near tug my hair out at the root – but I’m pretty sure I only have about three minutes left to get it done.”
She laughs a little at that last part, the impatience he’s not trying too terribly hard to hide, and since he seems totally sincere in his desires, she tries to tell herself not to worry so much about being splayed wide in her living room, on the chair where her son sometimes reads his chapter books for school. If Robin wants her spread out like a buffet, then… well, then, she should tell her stupid self-conscious anxiety to shove it, and let him.
Regina takes a breath, and shuts her eyes, waving a hand dismissively (she hopes), and then she sasses, “Well, then you’d better get to it.”
He chuckles his “Yes, ma’am,” and she grins, too, and then his tongue is retracing the path his thumb had been – over her clit and down, back up, a little circle around the increasingly sensitive nub, and then the whole circuit starts again. On his third pass, he settles over her clit and gives it a lazy, swirling lick and suck, his hands gripping her thighs now, squeezing gently. He does it again, and she gasps softly, her breath thickening.
“I like that,” she breathes, “Keep doing that…”
Robin hums softly in acknowledgement, and complies, and she loses herself for a moment in the warm, slippery friction of his tongue, the way his fingers stroke and squeeze at her thighs, and suddenly how on display she is becomes the furthest thing from her mind. He does it again, again, again, and she gasps, and moans, and presses her hips up against him, her fingers digging into the upholstery.
When he sucks her clit into his mouth and rubs his tongue against it, her thighs shake, a low, “Ohhh…” trembling out of her as her hands fall to weave through his hair again. He draws back until she pops from his lips, then dips right back in and does it again, sucking her in hard, swirling his tongue against where she’s most sensitive, drawing back, and Regina lets out an embarrassing little whine, and a quiet, breathy, “Fuck.”
She feels his chuckle in response as a low buzz of vibration as he’s sucking her in again, and oh, she should have let him do this to her sooner. Should have let him settle his thumbs on either side of her clit like he’s doing now and spread her taut to expose the most sensitive part, so his tongue can dance quick, light passes over it in a way that makes her squirm and gasp and fist her fingers in his hair as her toes curl. It’s intense, almost too much, but she’s warmed up now, so she can take it, can twist a little under the attention and make sounds she’s trying not to think too much about, little startled, desperate moans as frissons of pleasure spark again and again from his—
The buzzing of the oven timer startles them both – she feels him jump slightly as her heart ratchets up into her throat. Robin lets out a growl of frustration at being interrupted, but Regina just slips her thighs from the arms of the chair and urges a breathless, “Just go turn the heat off and come back. The chicken needs to rest for a minute anyway before it’s ready to eat.”
He makes another dissatisfied sound then levers up and kisses her deeply, their tongues tangling, his beard a little damp against her chin.
Robin mutters, “You’re ready to eat,” then steals one last peck and pushes away from her as she laughs softly and crosses her legs demurely in his absence. He’s only gone for a minute, the buzzer cutting off abruptly, and the faint sound of running water, and then he’s on his way back to her, gulping from a cup with one hand and adjusting his too-tight jeans with the other.
When he finishes drinking, she watches his gaze skim over her, tip to toes, and she feels her skin heat just a fraction warmer.
“How is it,” he wonders, his head tilting to the side slightly as his gaze wanders back up, “that you are so effortlessly sexy?”
Regina grins, and shakes her head at him, her crossed ankle bouncing lazily as he closes the distance between them. He’s such an adorable idiot.
He holds the cup out to her when he’s within arm’s reach; she swallows against the dryness at the back of her throat and takes it gratefully as he sinks to his knees again. Robin’s palms find her knees, trying to part them as he insists, “I mean it. You’re just sitting there in a t-shirt, waiting for me to come back and eat you out, and you look fucking incredible.”
Regina denies him access for a moment, presses her knees together with a little shake of her head while she sips; Robin pouts and leans in to press a kiss to her skin, another, one more, until she sets the cup aside and muses, “You’re very good for the self esteem, you know that?” because she very much doubts she looks as good as he says, but the compliments buoy her up nonetheless.
“I try,” he smirks, as she uncrosses her legs. The way he licks his lips as she parts her thighs again for him makes heat streak though her belly.
“This is nice,” she sighs, realizing a second too late that she’s actually said it out loud, but oh well. Who cares? It is nice, being leisurely eaten out on a lazy summer holiday afternoon, and why should she feel embarrassed about it?
“Very nice,” Robin agrees, gaze focused between her thighs again; she gets the distinct impression he’s talking about her, about there, and not this, and it has her suppressing a smile and letting her arms stretch lazily above her head while he adjusts her thighs slightly and scoots in closer. That knee-jerk insecurity from earlier is gone now, the dark blue of his eyes and soft stroke of his palms over her thighs making her feel sexy, and wanted, and at ease.
God, she loves being like this with him. Loves the way he’s bending his head down and giving her a teasing lick, before he glances up and asks, “You were enjoying it before, right? Before the timer? I couldn’t tell if those were good moans, or too-much moans.”
Regina bites her lip and admits, “A bit of both. It was good, but not for too long. And, um, you could go faster now, or harder. If you wanted. It was just… too much too soon before.”
Robin turns his head and plants a little garden of soft kisses high on her thigh, the raspy tickle of his beard making her twitch as he murmurs between them, “I’d been waiting all day to eat you out, couldn’t wait any longer. And we were on a bit of a time crunch.”
He gives her a little wink after that, and she smirks, and stretches slightly, and decides, “Cold chicken tastes just fine. Take your time.”
His chuckle rushes over her skin, kisses blooming higher along her thigh as he asks, “You want me to keep going slow? Now that I have you all spread out and willing, I find I’m in much less of a hurry.”
She drops one hand to his jaw, nails scratching lightly at his beard as he presses another soft kiss into her skin. “Mm, I’m fine either way.”
The next kiss he plants is warm, and open-mouthed, settled right at the hinge of hip and thigh; Regina licks her lips, her breath catching slightly at the subtle change of pace. Or not pace, because he’s not moving any faster, but… something. There’s a shift of mood, maybe, of tone, as he sucks another kiss right next to it.
“I think…” he murmurs, before he gives her another kiss, just the same but a little higher, close to her clit but not nearly close enough. “…I’d like to…” Another, just above and a little to the left of the last. “…savor this one…”
He sucks his next kiss just above her clit, close enough that his tongue teases ever so slightly against the hood, but no closer, and Regina lets out a rush of breath and regrets not having a firmer opinion on the pace of things because, “Oh God, you’re going to tease, aren’t you?”
He chuckles warmly and continues his slow, counter-clockwise tour of everywhere but her clit, around, and down the other side, until she’s aching from the lack of attention.
“Bastard,” she breathes, but there’s not much heat to it. Clearly he knows it, because all he does is laugh softly again and run his tongue far too lightly up the center of her, a tickling caress over her inner lips that just makes her mutter, “I changed my mind; I want it fast.”
Robin grins up at her, and shakes his head. “Too late. You didn’t care.”
“I care now,” she argues, moaning softly as his tongue slides down and back up… and then back down, parting her further but without ever quite touching her clit. This was a terrible idea…
“Only because you know I’m going to tease,” he reasons. He turns to drop a kiss on her thigh again, just one, before he shifts a little, his hand settling warm and low on her belly, thumb stroking gently just above where she needs it. “If you hadn’t asked, you’d just be enjoying a leisurely eating out right now.”
She has to give him that, but still, “Robin…”
His thumb strokes her skin again, and he murmurs, “You’re so soft,” almost to himself – he doesn’t give her a chance to figure out any way to respond, to ask if he likes her that way – this way – if he prefers it (she doesn’t usually go full Brazilian just for herself, the upkeep is a hassle, but Graham had liked her that way, and she doesn’t mind it, she’ll make the regular appointment if this is something they’re going to be doing often and—)
“I’ve been dreaming about this,” he interrupts her thoughts, his thumb still stroking lightly – and closer and closer to her clit every time. “About eating you out. Every time I’ve fingered you and gotten to lick you off my fingers it was like a little sample.”
His thumb sneaks down, alongside her clit but not over it, and Regina’s cheeks flush at the way she gasps softly at the touch. He’s barely even started this stupid teasing yet; he’s going to kill her.
He’s still talking, the bastard, telling her, “Like a little tease of how good you’d taste on my tongue. And every time, I’d want to go down on you, and it wouldn’t happen, and I’d think about it. Want it. Want to kiss my way down and hold your hips, and lick and suck and” —he strokes once down the other side of her clit and back up, the absolute teasing bastard— “fuck you with my tongue.”
She moans softly when he says it, and damnit, that’s not fair, because he’s smirking at her now; he knows what he’s doing to her, with these touches that just barely graze against her.
“And I’d think about how wet you’d be, and how warm you’d be, and how good you’d taste. And I’d fall asleep, and you’d be there, naked, and gorgeous, with your thighs wrapped around my head and your fingers in my hair, and I’d feel you press your pussy up against—”
“Don’t call it that,” she interrupts with a grimace, because she hates that word, she really does, and he’d had her going there for a second, with his teasing touches and all his words about how much he wants her. But that word, ugh, that word is like a bucket of cold water.
“No,” she tells him firmly. “Immediate mood-killer.”
Robin makes a face, like he’s making a mental note, and nods, that teasing thumb sliding down, over her clit (she moans softly), down, inside her for a moment (her teeth sink into her lip), and then back out and up as he amends to, “I’d feel you press all of this up against my mouth, feel you grind against me and tell me how close you were, how good it felt. How I was making you come.”
She hopes he’ll take another pass down, but he doesn’t, his fingertips just swirl low on her belly and call up a smattering of goosebumps as he continues, “And I’d wake up hard as a bloody stone, and have to jerk off to the thought of you.”
He’s barely even touching her, and her clit is starting to throb. She needs him to touch it again, to lick it like he did before, to suck her in the way he had and rub his tongue against her. But he’s not done riling her up, apparently.
No, he’s letting his hand skim down, fingers tracing shivery paths down the soft skin between her thighs, but not touching her anywhere she needs him to, as he tells her, “And now here I am, finally, wide awake and between your gorgeous legs, and it’s even better than the dreams. And I want to take my time enjoying it. I want a good and proper taste of you, Regina, now that we’re not at risk of being interrupted by napping children, or arriving parents, or ill-timed roommates. So I want to make you wet. Very wet.”
Oh. Well, then. Well done.
Regina swallows heavily, and Robin keeps talking, and keeps touching.
He tells her, “I want to taste you here,” and lets his fingertip skim down the center of her. “Give you a good lick, and suck all along here” —that fingertip runs up one of her inner lips, and then down the other side— “and here. Want to sink my tongue in here—”
He lets that questing finger slide into her – and it goes in easily, because he has made her wet, very wet. Just like he wanted. But it’s a move that seems to backfire just a little as he realizes how effective he’s been, his eyes dropping shut as he mutters a soft, “Fuck.”
“Feel good?” she asks lowly, seizing the upper hand where she can – he’s not the only one who can tease, right?
“Incredible,” he tells her, opening his eyes again, but not before she’s snuck a hand down to wrap around his wrist. She draws his hand out, up, and he scowls a little at her, before his jaw goes slack as he realizes her intent.
Regina grins and brings that damp finger to her mouth, sucking it in slowly, then pulling back with a little hum, and a, “Tastes good too.”
The groan he lets out is rough and hot, his brow falling to her thigh for a moment as he mutters into her skin, “That was not kind.”
She laughs lightly, a little harder when he scoots himself up and reaches for her, grasping behind her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. She presses her tongue in against his, and Robin moans at the flavor of her on her own tongue, muttering, “Cheater, you are such a cheater,” and kissing her again, hard.
She tips her head down after a breathless moment, and gasps, “Go down on me. Now. Please.”
He groans and smacks a kiss on her lips— “That” —her collar— “was not” —her cotton-covered stomach— “at all” —the smooth skin of her belly— “fair.”
And then he grasps her hips and runs his tongue up her sex in one broad lick, and Regina lets out a contented moan, and sighs, “But it worked.”
“Cheater,” he mutters again before giving her clit a swirling lick – one that has Regina’s fingers sliding into his hair once more. He does it again, then runs his tongue down and sinks it into her, licking around her opening in firm circles that have her toes curling.
“Could you do an imagine where you and your crush have known eachother for awhile and you, him, and some of yall’s other friends are talking about dates and you describe yours and the crush takes you on the date a few days later”
So cute!! This might get confusing, but I used f/n for all the female friends and c/f/n for the guys. I had some trouble coming up with the perfect date, so I used something slightly generic to hopefully appeal to as many people as possible…feel free to criticize my poor taste! (Fun fact: I have never been on an actual date myself (gasp!) so I only have my imagination to work with, but hey when you have that who needs a real boyfriend???*cries in corner*)
Word count: 3.5k
It’s a warm Sunday night and you and your friends are hanging out at a friend’s house, lounging in chairs around a fire pit. (C/n) sits on the opposite side and you have a perfect view of him, his face lit up by the orange glow of the fire. Your other friends are between you, talking and laughing. The night is quiet except for someone playing acoustic covers on their phone.
“So, guys. I have something to tell you.” (F/n/1) rubs her hands together, grinning.
“Well, what is it?” says (f/n/2) eagerly. Always eager for gossip, that one. But you’re excited to find out too, and lean closer to hear.
“It has to do with…my crush,” she says giddily. Everyone gasps and starts asking questions excitedly. (F/n/1) laughs at the effect it has on everyone. She gives daily updates and rants about how much she likes her crush. It’s like a show that you’re all hooked on.
“What happened??” you press impatiently.
“Well…” (F/n/1) looks around the circle, drawing out the suspense. “On Friday we were walking home together after school.”
“And?” (f/n/2) urges her on.
“And…he asked me out!!” she gushes.
“No freaking way!” (f/n/2) gasps. You get out of your chair and rush over to (f/n/1), hugging her and jumping up and down together. “Holy shit (f/n/1) that’s amazing!”
(C/f/1) claps slowly, then asks, “So when is the date?”
“He didn’t actually say yet. Sometime next weekend probably.”
(F/n/2) looks shocked. “What?! He didn’t actually plan a date yet?”
“Maybe it’s a surprise,” you suggest, settling back into your chair.
(F/n/2) wrinkles her nose. “Who would want a surprise date? You have to know what’s coming so you can prepare yourself!”
You gape at her. “That’s ridiculous! A surprise would be soo romantic!”
(F/n/2) stubbornly shakes her head. “Nope. My ideal date: he tells you everything a week in advance. You go out to dinner and a movie, and he pays for everything, of course.”
“That’s it?” (f/n/1) cuts in. “My god, you are so boring!”
“And old fashioned,” (c/f/n/2) adds. “We’re not made of money, you know.”
“So, what, you expect the girl to pay?” (f/n/2) exclaims.
(C/f/n/2) shrugs. “I won’t be a dick about it but I’m open to it. If she doesn’t at least offer to split the bill she’s too cheap for me.”
“Listen, it’s simple. Whoever does the asking out is the one who pays,” (c/n) speaks up, and your ears perk up.
“That sounds fair,” you say, nodding slowly.
“Thank you,” says (c/n), grinning at you. “So (y/n), what would your ideal date be?”
Your cheeks heat up a bit at his question. “Umm…”
“Yeah, tell us all about how romantic a surprise date can be,” says (f/n/2) sarcastically, then adds, “No really, tell me, I’m curious now!”
“Okay, wellll.” You sit forward in your chair and lace your fingers together. “Here’s how it goes. It’s evening, like 5, 6 maybe. I’m in my room doing my homework or something unimportant…”
“Boooriiing,” interrupts (f/n/2) with a yawn.
“Shhh,” says (f/n/1). “Let the girl talk!”
You laugh. “I haven’t gotten to the good part yet. So anyway, I hear a sound. He’s throwing rocks at my window. I open the window…”
“…and a rock hits your face,” (f/n/2) suggests.
You shoot her a look. “…and he’s standing there, nicely dressed, not in a suit or anything but, ya know, a nice shirt, pants that are just tight enough to show off his ass…”
(F/n/2) rolls her eyes. Meanwhile, (c/n) listens attentively, half amused.
“…and he tells me to put on a dress and come outside. Of course, I put on something classy with just a hint of slut, cause that’s the only way to go. When I get to the front door he gives me a rose and tells me I look beautiful. We get into his car and I ask him where we’re going and he tells me it’s a surprise. First he takes me to a pizza place, of course.”
“Romantic,” says (f/n/1) teasingly.
(C/n) looks offended. “Hey, hey, hey, pizza is as romantic as it gets!”
“Right, and who doesn’t like pizza?” you add. “So then we go to an ice cream parlor to get ice cream, and walk around just talking about life. Then we get to an empty field and lie down and look at the stars and talk some more. Finally, we make out. A lot.” You grin and sit back. “The end.”
(C/f/n/2) scoffs. “Pathetic! Even I can be more romantic than that.”
“Are you kidding, looking at the stars together is soo dreamy!” you defend yourself.
“And making out, also very dreamy,” says (c/n) with a wink.
You give him an exasperated half smile, but you feel your face warm up a little. “So…yeah. That’s pretty much my dream date,” you conclude.
“Well, now it can never happen cause it wouldn’t be a surprise!” (F/n/1) points out.
You consider that for a second. “Hey, if I’m not expecting it that’s good enough for me!”
“As much as I disagree with the concept I will be sure to tell any potential suitors exactly what to do,” says (f/n/2) with an air of incredible generosity.
“Thanks, wingwoman,” you reply with a grin.
(C/f/n/1) looks around the circle. “You’re all crazy,” he decides.
You and the other girls all flip him off simultaneously.
The next day you’re sleep deprived from the late night with your friends, and the rest of the week only gets worse. After failing two tests and pulling an all nighter for a project, you are relieved when school finally lets out on Friday and you can head home and do nothing.
You drop your backpack on the floor of your room and collapse onto your bed. Within seconds you’re out cold.
A couple hours later, you jolt awake, and then lie there for a few seconds trying to figure out what woke you up. As if on cue, a sharp sound draws your attention to your window. You stumble over groggily and push it open, not without some effort. You squint down, peering into the growing darkness that is your yard, and as your eyes adjust you gasp.
Standing there under your window, rock in one hand, rose in the other, wearing a nice shirt, perfectly fitting pants and a beautiful smile, is (c/n).
“Hey, (y/n),” he calls up quietly, but his voice carries and you hear every word with perfect clarity. And his oh-so-sexy voice, always with the hint of a smirk detectable in it - you nearly collapse all over again.
You hold steady, though, and call back down, “(C/n)?! What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to test a disputed theory,” he says by way of explanation.
Your brain struggles to wrap around this. “Wha…” you sputter in response.
He chuckles. “We’re going to see how romantic your ‘surprise date’ really is.”
A hot blush rises to your cheeks. “Oh,” you say. “Umm…”
“Put on a dress and come outside,” he says with an adorable grin.
You quickly pull your head back inside and close the window, hyperventilating. Oh. My. God. This can’t be real. Come to think of it, you’re not even sure you’re really awake. After all, it’s entirely possible you’re still in the middle of your nap and that this is just a very vivid dream attributable to your constant thoughts about (c/n). But hey, if this is a dream why not go for it and enjoy yourself while you can?
You search through your closet for something slutty but classy, a look you always strive to achieve when you have the chance. And now is as good a chance as ever to dress like a classy slut. You find the perfect choice, a cute sundress that shows just enough skin. Oh, he will love this one, you think with a sly smirk.
You pull it over your head and run downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Slipping into a pair of cute but durable sandals, you yank open the door. (C/n) is standing right there on the front porch.
You make eye contact with him and open your mouth to say something, but then he kneels dramatically and holds out his rose. “(Y/n), will you accept this rose as a token of my undying love?”
You laugh, a little shakily, and punch his shoulder indignantly. “Hey! Don’t mock me!”
He chuckles. “Okay, okay. Take this though, seriously!” He pushes the rose toward you.
You give him an exasperated look, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows. But you take the rose. “Happy?”
“Hey, you’re supposed to be the happy one! Isn’t this your quintessential romantic date right here?”
“Yes, but only when you’re doing it for real!” you argue, because this is obviously a friendly joke to him. Not that you aren’t happy to go along with it. Why refuse the chance to spend one-on-one time with (c/n), and on your dream date too?
He’s still kneeling. “You can stand up now,” you inform him helpfully. “You look like an idiot.”
He complies, getting to his feet, where he towers over you once more. He smiles down at you. “You look beautiful.”
You blush fiercely at hearing him say that, but try to brush it off. He’s kidding, obviously. “And you have a good memory,” you say, because you really are impressed. He’s getting all the details right.
(C/n) frowns. “No, really, I mean it, (y/n),” he insists. “You seriously look beautiful.”
You’re at a loss for words. You try for a smile, and attempt to thank him, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you duck your head and make a small noise of acknowledgement.
(C/n) gestures to the car parked in your driveway. “Join me for a ride?”
You nod and follow him to his car. He opens the passenger door for you. What a gentleman! As he backs out of the driveway, he glances at you and says teasingly, “So, aren’t you gonna ask me where we’re going?”
You shake your head incredulously. “Again, I applaud your detail retention,” you say, “but if you’re so bent on following this to the letter then I already know where we’re going.”
(C/n) huffs exasperatedly. “Just cooperate, okay? Now, according to your rules, the line is, ‘Where are we going?’”
You roll your eyes. “Fine. Where are we going?”
He smiles in satisfaction. “It’s a surprise,” he says happily.
“No it’s not, I know we’re getting pizza, you idiot,” you remind him.
(C/n) abruptly stops the car in the middle of the street and turns to face you. “(Y/n), if we’re going to test your theory accurately, you’re going to have to play along!”
“Oh my god, drive, there are cars behind us,” you exclaim. He starts up the car reluctantly, but presses on. “I’m not kidding! We’re gonna do this right!”
You let out a laugh. “Okay, okay, calm down. I will humor you. Your dedication is admirable, really.”
“Good. Get ready for the best date of your life,” he says proudly. “Or at least it will be, if you’re really right about this.”
Your heart flutters despite your efforts to play it cool. Yeah, this isn’t a real date, but he still called it one and that’s enough to quicken your pulse. Nevertheless, you decide to correct him. “Oh no, this is not gonna count as my first date,” you say, trying to act annoyed.
(C/n) looks over at you in surprise. “Your first date? You’ve never been on a date before?”
“Dude, we’ve been friends for years, I think I would have told you if someone miraculously was interested in me for even a second.”
He looks back at the road, grinning. “Yeah okay, I knew, just wanted to make sure you didn’t keep anything from me!” He turns to you again. “And now this will definitely be your best date so far because it’s your only one!” He laughs triumphantly.
You roll your eyes at him, but can’t hide your enjoyment at his enthusiasm. You know he’s just doing this for you as a friend, and he gets so easily excited that this is nothing special. Still, a feeling of bliss is taking over you from simply being with him, at night, in such a context as this. And you can’t help but wonder if he’ll really follow the date all the way through, right down to the very last detail…
The car stops in front of your local pizza place. You start to open the door but (c/n) lunges over and pulls your hand away. “No let me do it!” he whines, and quickly gets out of the car and opens your door for you.
“Wow, pizza, what a surprise!” You step out of the car and walk into the restaurant. (C/n) closes the car door and follows you in. You get in line to order and lean against the counter to look at (c/n).
“So, who’s paying?” you ask teasingly.
He rests an elbow on the counter, bringing him closer to you. “Well according to my rule, which I have stated before, whoever asks out, pays. I feel like it’s on you because you started all of this with your silly date idea.”
You raise your eyebrows in an Oh really? expression. “Did I ask you to actually take me out?”
He leans even closer. “I think it’s fair to say that you did, silently. You were looking at me longingly. That was obviously your way of asking me out.” He grins, proud of his logic.
“Right, of course,” you say sarcastically, although your heartbeat is picking up again. “I think you misinterpreted my glares of annoyance.”
He chuckles. “Don’t even try to deny it. You want me,” he says dramatically.
“Oh baby,” you reply in a breathy soap-opera voice.
(C/n) wiggles his eyebrows and you break character to laugh at how ridiculous he looks. “Okay but seriously, I didn’t bring any money, which is your fault for rushing me,” you say accusingly.
“Well that’s a problem, because I didn’t bring any either,” he replies, shrugging.
“(C/n)!” you exclaim, glancing at the shrinking line of customers in front of you.
He breaks into a grin. “Kidding.” He holds up a twenty dollar bill. “Of course I’ll pay.”
You order two plain slices and a soda to share. When the food comes you sit down across from each other at a small table - (c/n) pulling out your chair for you - and munch hungrily on your pizza.
“So,” (c/n) says between bites, “is your dream date meeting expectations so far?”
“I’d say it’s subpar, but that’s your fault for poor execution. The idea is still romantic.” You can’t help teasing him a little. He’ll have to work for your approval.
“What!” he protests. “I have been such a gentleman!”
“Such a gentleman,” you echo mockingly, and he pouts. You relent. “Okay, you’re really trying, I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you,” he says, still in a hurt tone of voice.
“So what about you?” you ask after a moment’s hesitation.
“How does this measure up to other dates you’ve been on?”
(C/n) smiles, stuffs the last bite of pizza in his mouth and stands up. “Ahh, so much to tell you. Maybe this is a discussion we should have over some ice cream?”
You head across the street and buy an ice cream cone each. As you walk aimlessly around town (c/n) recounts tales of his past dating escapades; some awkward, some boring, some downright disastrous, and a few that sound almost enjoyable. “Personally none of those sound as romantic as mine,” you comment some twenty minutes in.
“Well…” he tilts his head pensively. “I guess this one’s not terrible, though I wouldn’t call it my ‘dream date’ either.”
“Hey, it’s not over yet,” you point out.
“Right,” he says with renewed enthusiasm. “Field! And look, the stars are out. Perfect.”
“Yeah, now we just need the actual field,” you remind him.
He smirks. “Way ahead of you. Did you really think I wouldn’t plan this out to completion?”
“You’re right, how could I be so foolish?” you joke.
(C/n) leads you to a somewhat secluded park with a large grassy area, hidden from the general public by a cluster of trees. Together, you walk over to the middle of the field. (C/n) sits down and pats the ground next to him invitingly. You laugh lightly and join him, lying back to look up at the sky. It’s wonderfully cloudless and clear, revealing hundreds of stars in clusters and constellations. (C/n) points upward. “That one looks like a dick,” he remarks.
You elbow him. “Killing the mood,” you complain.
“My bad,” he says, turning on his side to face you and propping his head up on his elbow. He picks at a blade of grass inches from your face. “I admit the stars do add a certain romantic element to it all.”
“See, it takes a masterful combination of different elements to really create the perfect date,” you say with an air of superiority.
“Says the girl who’s never even been on one,” he teases, flicking pieces of grass onto your face. You spit one out of your mouth and whack him clumsily with the back of your hand. He catches your hand with both of his and starts twiddling with your fingers, a strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation.
“Anyway,” he continues, “it’s almost time for my verdict.”
“Yeah.” (C/n) places the palm of his hand on yours, lining up your fingers. “Your hands are tiny.”
You roll your eyes. “Yours are just extra large. Verdict about what?”
“How romantic this whole ‘surprise date’ thing really was, of course,” he replies. “I followed all your instructions, so this is, like, legit.”
“There’s just one part left,” he says quietly, locking eyes with you.
Your heart races in anticipation. “Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask innocently.
(C/n) smirks. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he answers in an incredibly sexy voice, and you’re suddenly worried that you’ll faint before anything even happens. Noticing your paralyzed expression, he chuckles, then bites his lip seductively as though he’s actively trying to make it worse. “Do I need to show you?”
With the last scrap of courage you can muster, you nod. (C/n) looks down at your mouth and back at you before leaning in and closing the gap. Your lips collide and his hands go to your face, his thumbs grazing your cheeks. Soon enough he’s on top of you, forearms on either side of your head. And, just as you foretold, you make out. A lot.
When you finally break apart God knows how much later, your faces are flushed, hair mussed up and breathing heavy. As you catch your breath (c/n) says, “I officially approve of this date idea. The last part is the best, hands down.”
“Is it?” you say, aware of the furious beating of your heart.
“Well, the rest was fun too.” He moves a strand of hair out of your face. “Can I tell you something?”
“I wasn’t actually trying to prove anything or test your theory or whatever, I just wanted to go on a date with you,” he confesses.
You laugh giddily. “Really?”
“Really,” he says seriously. “I’ve liked you basically forever.”
“No way, me too!” you exclaim, in a casual tone that even surprises yourself.
He examines your expression. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.” You smile reassuringly.
He breaks into a grin. “In that case the only logical solution is for you to agree to be my girlfriend, right now.”
“Oh damn that’s a tough one,” you say jokingly. “I guess maaaaybee-”
(C/n) rolls his eyes and shuts you up by pressing his lips against yours once more.
I am not saying all these guys are God, but they are certainly contenders for specific reasons…which I will break down over a couple posts. The topic for this post though concerns the sentiment “God is Everywhere.” With this idea in mind, please consider the following:
Humperdoo’s reaction to the question “Where is God?”
If the answer was literally “everywhere” - then Humperdoo’s overwhelmed response is actually quite understandable.
“If God closes a door, he always opens a window.” [Eugene says this to Tracyin revealing context.] On many separate occasions, the dream team has benefited from an opened window, or an open-able window.
1) Mumbai Sky Tower: Dream team barely escapes the Saint when Tulip jimmies open a window Cassidy discovers is only painted shut.
2) Sokosha: When Jesse discovers the Saint is in the apartment complex, the dream team escapes through a window - just in time.
3) Puzzle Piece: Herr Starr is totes cool using B.R.A.D. to assassinate Jesse, until a pop-up leads to him accidentally listening to Jesse monologue at Cassidy….Pop-ups are open windows.
4) The End of the Road: After realizing Denis is too dangerous to live, Cassidy makes use of an open window full of sunlight. Considering Denis is his son, Cassidy would likely of had difficulty killing Denis had a solution not been so easily available.
Now, to be fair, I did not include the pop-up window incident with Featherstone that seemed to work against the dream team - or the window Eugene opens, as I do not want to begin equating Hitler to God…damn I can’t believe I typed that. But in general, the utility of these windows seems divined - almost as though divinity moves like a gas - and is “everywhere” when it arrives.
Harris dragged us back to his classroom where we sat in detention. Scott and Stiles sat next to each other and I sat across from them, facing them.
I drummed my fingernails on the table in front of me, using my claws out of boredom while Scott wiped his nose clean of blood and Stiles fiddled with his pencil. The time seemed to crawl like a snail, and I eventually started using my claw to carve a heart into the black desktop.
Scott threw the bloody tissue on the table and sighed, “Excuse me, sir? I know it’s detention and all, but I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.” Harris smiled at him and continued working on his laptop, making Scott roll his eyes.
“This isn’t you, I shouldn’t have stayed, I should leave and raised her on my own” a voice cried from behind the locked door.
You heard a loud smacking noise and a low hostile voice said, “You were too weak, and you’ll always be too weak to leave” your dad came storming out of the bedroom, the overwhelming smell of liquor that always followed him filling up the living room, “It’s seeing you everyday, that’s made me like this” he yelled back over his shoulder at her, slamming the front door so hard that you heard the wood splinter around the hinges.
You were four years old sitting on the floor by the couch, with your Legos. You spent your days trying to block out the screams from your parents as they stomped around the house, throwing things at each other. Your mom poked her head out of their bedroom, to see if he was gone, you looked with round eyes at the blood pooling out of a cut next to her eye.
“Shouldn’t have gotten married, shouldn’t have stayed, I should leave, I should pack up our things and leave, we should go, we need to go. He didn’t know what he was doing, he was drunk. We should still go. He’ll die without us, he’ll die and it will be my fault because we left..” she kept muttering under her breath, tears in her eyes as she walked almost in a trance to the sink, wetting a paper towel to dab at the spot next to her eye. She took a deep breath closing her eyes, and when they opened again they rested on you. Sitting on the living room floor, you stared wide eyed at the Legos sprawled in front of you, glanced up at your mother’s eye again, and then looked back at the Legos. She threw away the paper towel and came to sit by you on the rug.
“It’s okay baby,” she said, holding you close. Your small hand went up to touch her eye,
“He hurt you?” you asked
“No, it’s just a scratch,” she said kissing your forehead
“He’s bad,” you said poking at her cut. She flinched away from your hand,
“No, he’s not, he doesn’t mean it, he’s just sick right now, but he needs us, and when he realizes that he’ll get better,” she said, although it was mostly to herself, she said it every time, and it was never true.
“But he did that.” you said pointing to her eye
“It was my fault,” she said sadly
“No,” you said angrily, crossing your arms, “He can’t hit, hitting is bad. No hitting”
“That’s right,” she said hugging you, “don’t hit.”
“But he hits…”
“Only when he’s sick”
“Why are we here if he hits?”
“Because he and I and him are married.” She said, “and you don’t give up on that.” You stared at her, taking in her ratted hair, the bags under her eyes, the bloody cut that now had a giant bruise forming around it, and her clothes that were ripped from where your father had grabbed her.
“I’m never getting married,” you said frowning at your mother
“You’ll change your mind when you fall in love,” she said, smiling at you, “Just choose a nice boy okay”
“No. I’m never getting married,” you said again, “I don’t want to be like you”.
“What should we do today?” Hoshi asked, walking back from the bathroom in his boxers, He flopped back into the bed beside you, “we should get up is what we should do” he said, clapping your face between his hands, smushing your cheeks to wake you up.
“I don’t want to get up” you groaned, eyes still shut, “It’s summer, let me sleep” he stood up again and opened the bedroom curtains to pop open a window, you couldn’t see the sun, but the light of it was bouncing blindingly off the fog that hung in the air.
“I guess we could stay inside…” Hoshi said, poking his head out the window, “It’s very humid and foggy out here.”
RP Starters - Taken From Random Scenarios I’ve Been In
“You know, some of the best conversations I’ve had have been when at least one of us was naked.”
“Let’s kill people!”
“HE’S MA SON!”
“I’m sorry I hit you in the gender-neutral boobs!”
“You have to be classy when you eat ass.”
“I’m in diabetes heaven!”
“I’m bored I’m going to kill the Occult Club.”
“I was going to say ‘don’t fuck Senpai’ but I suppose that’s what we want to do.”
“I gave him a backstory, he’s my son now, you can’t go back after that.”
“It fell out of existence. Just like my will to live.”
“I’ve got to say this, your brother looks like a bad cosplay of Germany.”
“Every six year old has had a kink some point in their lives.”
“I think it was when we were talking about kinks!”
“He is a loose moose.”
“My brother tried to hide the cherryade so I couldn’t drink it but I found out and now I’m gonna drink it all because fuck him.”
“If you don’t like chocolate, you’re a stuck up prick. If you like dark chocolate, you’re a plain bitch. If you like white chocolate, you’re a fakeass motherfucker. If you like milk chocolate… you have nothing interesting, your life is a waste.”
“Red. The colour of HELL.”
“I flaunt my gayness all the time.”
“Let’s feast on some ass.”
“Our house is not big enough for all these fucks!”
“JUST CALL mE DADDY!”
“Oh for fuck sakes who invited Lighting McQueen?”
“Yeah, about that diet…”
“Whenever a door closes, God opens a window… Cause [Name] fucking farted again, God damn it.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever been horny because of a vicar.”
“Cocaine just spilled out of my Refresher. Oh wait, it’s the sherbet.”
“I saw them and their little nerd hands slapping each other.”
“Well, time to kill innocent schoolgirls.”
“I’ve discovered your true identity, [Name]. There’s no hiding your Simpson blood.”
“’[Name] is my son,’ I say as I murder him.”
“I have too much darkness in me already, I can’t risk eating dark chocolate.”
“Mr Peabody and Sherman is secretly about a boy’s discovery of being a furry.”
“Mr Peabody and Sherman, where everyone is a fucking furry.”
“I am not a furry.”
“Tame this mane, you actual furry.”
“I’m so hecking gay.”
“I thought you were the dog. I mean, you’re both bitches.”
“I don’t want birches.”
“Just because it doesn’t exist doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“2016 can officially suck my nuts.”
“Why is the cheese wrapped like a sausage? For kinky reasons.”
“When was the last time I held a knife to your genitals?”
“You missed me doing a super sick flip.”
“WHO IS AY AY RON?”
“Unlike SOME PEOPLE, most people don’t like to be submerged in darkness.”
A/N: This was my first time writing a fic based off of a song, so forgive me if it’s a little rough! I tried making it kind of like the story is about the reader, but the song is about how Bucky sees her. Also, I hadn’t heard this song before, but I really like it, so thanks for the recommendation! Hope you like the fic, and thanks for the request!
Your first day in the Avengers compound felt more like
hitting rock bottom than like moving into what was essentially the most
exclusive apartment building on earth. Sure, it had a pool, gym, screening
rooms—all kinds of fancy things that you’d be sharing with Earth’s mightiest
heroes, but to you it felt more like a last resort than an upgrade.
You weren’t an Avenger, or even a SHIELD agent. You were a
public relations representative. You had worked for Tony Stark for years,
trying to make his erratic behavior look good in the public eye, and then moved
on to work for Pepper after she took over Stark Industries. In those years, you
had become good friends with Tony, so much so that he was almost like a father
to you. In a way, he was like the only family you had, and you were beyond
appreciative when he offered you a room in the compound when you could no
longer stay at your apartment.
You had met most of the team before when you were working to
defend their actions in Sokovia after the incident with Ultron. However, when
you walked into the lounge with your suitcase and saw everyone sitting around
waiting for your arrival, you became really overwhelmed and started crying.
Tony immediately ushered you off to your room so you could unpack and have some
time alone to settle down.
Through tears, you threw your clothes into dresser drawers
and hung up the nicer things in the closet. You set your laptop on the desk and
set your makeup bag and jewelry box on the bathroom counter. You didn’t bring
any knickknacks with you, but you pulled three books out of your suitcase and
set them on the nightstand, and with that you had unpacked all of your things.
You left most of your stuff behind, wanting a fresh start.
You sat down on the window seat and opened up your favorite
book, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t focus on it, and just sat
there staring blankly at the pages. This went on for an hour or so until you
heard a faint knock at the door.
“Y/N? I just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re okay. Is
it okay if I come in?”
You recognized the voice, even though it was one that you
had only heard a few times. It was Bucky Barnes. You were a little surprised he
was the first one to show up, rather than Tony or Steve, especially since Bucky
tended to be a little more on the quiet side.
“Yeah Bucky, you can come in. The door’s unlocked.”
He walked into the room, closing the door behind him. You
motioned toward the swivel chair at the desk, set your book back down on the
nightstand, and turned to face Bucky as he sat down in the chair.
“So, do you wanna talk about it?” he asked with concern.
“Not much to talk about really. I got sick of my now ex-boyfriend treating me like shit, so I
left. I didn’t have any place to go, so Tony said I could stay here. Kinda makes
sense anyway, since I pretty much work for all of you. Sorry I broke down out
there—the last few hours have just gone by really fast and I hadn’t really had
time to process it until now, but I’m okay,” you explained. You weren’t sure
why, but Bucky was really easy to talk to. Maybe he was just a good listener,
or maybe there was something deeper going on, but you decided to put that
thought in the back of your mind since you just broke up with your boyfriend
eight hours ago. Either way, it felt really reassuring that you had someone
there for you.
there when you fell from the clouds
And landed in the desert
There was a thunder inside of my heart
There was a wonderful pleasure
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Erm, not that your ex was
treating you badly, but that you’re okay. Hey, so umm, I was thinking about
going downstairs to shoot some pool. Wanna join me?” asked Bucky.
“Thanks, but I was just gonna go hop in the shower. I’m no
good at pool anyway. Oh, damn it!!” you replied. Bucky gave you a look of
confusion as you gritted your teeth and looked down at your lap.
“I didn’t bring any of my shower stuff. No shampoo or
anything. I guess I’ll ask Nat if I can borrow some until I can get to the
store. I don’t have a car—I usually took the bus everywhere when I lived in the
city,” you explained.
“I can give you a ride. I don’t have a car either, but I
have a motorcycle down in the garage. The fresh air would be nice anyway. So,
how about it?” You were surprised at Bucky’s generosity and kindness. After
all, you’d only talked to him a handful of times.
“That would be great! Thank you so much! I’ve just gotta
grab my purse and we can go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and
followed Bucky down to the garage. He handed you a helmet and you hopped onto
the back of the bike. Bucky reached behind him and grabbed your hands, and then
proceeded to wrap them tight around his waist.
“So you don’t fall off, Doll,” he said with a small smile
playing on this lips.
The ride to the store was relatively short, and Bucky was
patient as you picked out your shower items. You didn’t want to get too much
stuff since you would have to stuff it all in your purse for the ride back to
the Avengers compound, so it was a quick trip. When you got back out to the
parking lot, Bucky paused before starting up the motorcycle again.
“Wanna take the scenic route back? It’s longer, but the view
is nicer,” he asked you.
“I’d like that a lot,” you replied. You were surprised at
how much you were enjoying your time with Bucky. For some reason, with him
around it was really easy to forget about all of the drama that happened with
your ex. You got back on the motorcycle and wrapped your arms tight around
Bucky. Even through his jacket, you could feel how muscular he was, and couldn’t
help but smile.
The ride back to the compound was beautiful. There were tall
trees and fields of wildflowers that made the air smell heavenly as you sped
down the country roads. In those moments, everything felt right, and good. You
would’ve never dreamed that you’d be so happy so shortly after breaking up with
your ex, but you couldn’t help but think of that old adage your mom used to say:
“When God closes a door, He opens a window.” Maybe Bucky was your window.
Assuming he wouldn’t be able to hear you, you began singing a little song to
yourself. It wasn’t until much later that you found out the helmets had coms in
them and Bucky could hear every note, but he kept his mouth shut because he
liked the way you sang.
a stallion racing the rain
You rode on the back of my bike
I knew from the song that you sang
That you were my lover for life
Over the next few months, your friendship with Bucky grew
strong. The two of you were closer than any other members of the team, and
everyone else definitely noticed. You were best friends, but the tension
between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife. For a while towards
the beginning of your friendship, you tried to ignore your feelings for him,
assuming they were just rebound feelings after your break-up, but you were
starting to realize that this was the real deal, and you were falling in love
with him. You didn’t say anything for fear of ruining your friendship if the
feeling wasn’t mutual.
One night, you and Bucky were sitting on the couch together
watching a movie in the lounge. It was some 80s rom-com you’d watched a million
times, but Bucky hadn’t seen it so you chose it anyway. You were a little
drowsy, but didn’t realize how tired you really were until you woke up, finding
yourself nuzzled into Bucky’s chest.
“Oh damn! I fell asleep. How long has the movie been over? I
hope you weren’t sitting out here just for my sake,” you said, feeling a little
embarrassed as you sat up.
“Eh, it’s been over for a while, but I didn’t want to wake
you. You look really peaceful when you sleep, and I’m not gonna lie—it was
kinda nice having you here, asleep in my arms,” he replied.
“Wait, Buck—is this conversation going where I think it’s
going?” Bucky reached down and took your hand in his, interlacing his fingers
“I like you, Y/N, and I think maybe you like me too. Am I
right on this one, or way off-base?” You leaned forward and planted a quick but
loving kiss on his lips.
“I like you too, Bucky,” you said with a smile.
Oh, there’s no time to sleep
Oh, living in a dream
You and Bucky couldn’t keep your relationship a secret for
long, and once word got out to the team that the two of you had gone from “just
friends” to an actual couple you got nothing but cheeky smiles and silly winks
from everyone for weeks. You didn’t care though—you had never been so happy in
your entire life. One of Bucky’s favorite things was when you read to him—he was
still trying to catch up on everything he missed while he was working for Hydra,
and you loved sharing your favorite books with him. One sunny Saturday
afternoon, the two of you were sitting under your favorite tree and you were
reading him “A Moveable Feast” by Hemingway, when you noticed that he was
clearly not paying attention to what you were saying, but instead he was
staring at your face, smiling.
“Buck, if you don’t like this book we can read a different
one. Also, why are you staring at me? I highly doubt my face is that
“I’m not staring, I’m
gazing—that’s how you look at
beautiful things, you gaze. And I can’t
help it—this light brings out the green in your eyes so much. It’s the
prettiest green I’ve ever seen. Actually, I think it’s the prettiest color I’ve ever seen. Come here,” he
said as he wrapped a hand around your neck, pulling you in for a long, sweet
me to the paradise
In your eyes
Green like American money
You taste just right
Sweet like Tennessee honey
You stood up and took Bucky’s hand, encouraging
him to stand up and follow you as you began walking further into the woods.
“Where are we going, Doll?” he asked with a
little concern in his voice.
“It looks like it’s gonna rain, so we have to
go,” you replied with a sneaky smile playing on your lips.
“Doesn’t that mean we should go back?”
“No! It means we have to enjoy this last bit of
sunlight while we’ve got it, and I know the perfect spot!” you said with enthusiasm
as you began running, dragging Bucky along by the hand. The excitement in your
eyes made him smile big and bright.
can run away
Swimming in the sunlight everyday
Paradise in your eyes
Green like American money
You led Bucky to a clearing in the trees, where
the sun shined as if it was burning just for you. Purple wildflowers lined the
ground, making the air smell divine. You turned around and draped your arms
around the back of Bucky’s neck, and got up on your tiptoes to place a gentle
peck on his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist.
“This is my favorite place, you know,” you whispered,
even though you knew nobody was around to hear you.
“Yeah, this spot is nice. The flowers are
pretty,” he responded with a small smile.
“No, not this place,” you began, motioning to
the clearing around you, “this place,
in your arms,” you said as you inched closer to him. He leaned his face in and
rested his forehead on yours. Right at that moment, the rain starting pouring
down. Rather than run to the shelter of a tree, or back to the compound, Bucky
kissed you. This was no peck on the lips, or even a passionate smooch—this was
the kind of kiss that truly makes you weak in the knees. You had never
experienced anything like it. You were cold from the rain, but also warm from
the feelings surging through your entire body. You slowly realized that the
reason this kiss felt so different than all of the others was because this was
legitimately out of love.
took to the calico road
Running from the weather
There was a highway inside of her eyes
There was a buried treasure
When you finally broke apart for air, you
couldn’t help but smile when you saw the look in his perfect blue eyes. Bucky
placed his hands on your shoulders and ran them down the sides of your arms
until he reached your hands, which he then held in his own.
“Y/N, I just want you to know that I love you
with all my heart, and I will until my dying day,” he said with a genuine look
in his eyes. You started to tear up at the sentiment, praying the rain would
mask your tears.
“I love you too Bucky,” you replied as you squeezed
his hands tighter. He planted a quick kiss on your lips, and noticed you were starting
to shiver from the cold.
“Doll, we’d better get back. You’re gonna
freeze out here in the rain,” you nodded, and the two of you started walking
back toward the compound, hand in freezing hand.
got caught in the storm
You started flying a kite
At the end was the key to my heart
You were my lover for life
If you’d like to read more of my fics, you can find my masterlist here
Prompt: "My favorite song came up on the radio and here I am dancing like the world is going to end today…not noticing I left the curtains open until I hear you laugh from the apartment in front of mine"
The soundtrack to Stefan Salvatore’s life would most likely begin with “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi. He and his best friend Lexi realized that this song, and only this song, was suitable for theme song purposes.
When the song comes up on shuffle, Stefan naturally has to stop everything he is doing to sing along. He sets aside his newspaper (yes, he still gets his delivered) and begins bobbing his head up and down and snapping his fingers to the beat.
Innocent enough, right? It’s only when the chorus is about to begin that he raises his voice from that hushed and breathy singing-to-yourself-voice to what most might consider melodious yelling.
“OH I’M A COWBOY, ON A STEEL HORSE I RIDE
I’M WAN-TED (waaan-TED), DEAD OR A-LIVEEE”
Three minutes in and he raises his air guitar, passionately strumming along to the guitar solo now in full-swing. Eyes shut and torso turned inwards, almost as if the guitar is weighing too heavily on him, Stefan gives and gives until the last verse of “dead or alive, dead or alive” repeats and the guitar once again takes over, closing out the song.
All could have gone unnoticed if he had remembered to close his window before his rendition.
The very audible, “Oh my God,” from the building over stops him dead in his tracks.
He turns, his face probably tomato red, only to see a spunky blonde with eyebrows raised and a hand just barely covering her mouth.
Stefan just smiles and looks to the floor, partly because he’s embarrassed and partly because she’s gorgeous and he can’t believe she just witnessed that, of all things.
He walks closer to the open window.
“How much of that did you see?” he asks, knowing her answer won’t be good.
“Most, if not all,” she replies.
He runs a hand through his hair because he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands, and then apologizes.
“Oh, don’t be sorry,” she says lightheartedly. “Can I expect this kind of quality entertainment from you everyday, cowboy?”
“Of course, ma’am.” He chuckles a little before tipping his imaginary hat to her.
“Good,” she smiles out, and shuts her window as if nothing ever happened.
I walked through a door without knowing where it would lead me. Trusting that with faith you wouldn’t deceive me. Foolishly, I waited an eternity in the darkness behind that door for you to come. I held on strong to a belief, one thing above all else that I believed would guide me to safer times. Brighter hours.
They say when God closes a door he opens a window. Back pressed against the door, crumpled on the cold floor I had nothing to do but believe it. Like a mantra I repeated the words over and over and over and over. And over. “He wouldn’t leave me here. You wouldn’t leave me here. This is all a mistake. I do not deserve this.”
You never came. Neither did he.
I found my own strength. I stood up straight. I took my steps into the centre of the abyss. The darkness. The coldness. The suffocating stillness. Deafened by the silence of the place I searched. Blind, confused, tired I persevered.
On nothing but my own courage I traversed the darkness of a world I had plunged into in the knowledge that someone would be there. Somebody would be my might. Hold my hand.
And it is only after I clawed my way out that I’ve learned my lesson. And here I stand, at the end of the abyss staring at a door. Sometimes I think I hear you calling me from the other side of a door. But for now, forward is the direction and I am my own navigator.