#COUGH ANYWAY BYE GOODNIGHT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweeterthanficstion · 3 months ago

Text

— take me back to eden || l.s.k

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

tags: high school au, college au, re2r leon -> re4r leon pipeline, childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smut, a fuck ton of yearning MDNI 18+, male masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex (don't be silly, guys), loss of virginity, hand job, cunnilingus sort of, creampie, praise kink, breeding kink if you squint (sorry...) porn with plot, porn with feelings (like. too many feelings it's sort of gross)

summary: You try to desperately reignite an old friendship with Leon before high school wraps up. What starts out as a simple effort to mend things blossoms into something you couldn't have anticipated. But as summer ends, Leon’s moving away for College, leaving you in Raccoon City. Or so you thought.

word count: 10k ish

a/n: gosh, hi, it's been a while!! i've been fighting writer's block for nearly a year, and it definitely was NOT part of my plan to post leon smut before the knight fic, but cough ovulation week cough and uh.. this happened? big thanks to cressie for feeding the brainworms, and vivi for cheering me on, and of course eva for encouraging me to write again <33

also for the sake of my own sanity we're gonna pretend kairo was released in the 1990s because i just REALLY wanted them to watch kairo. and if you can catch all the song/movie references i make throughout this you'll get a gold star, anyway, enjoy! <3

playlist ⭑ masterlist ⭑AO3

If someone offered Leon a thousand dollars to pinpoint exactly where in the timeline of your friendship you’d grown apart, he wouldn’t be able to. Maybe it was just fate taking her course, friends growing apart. He’s tried to make peace with it, chalking it up to the inevitability of growing apart, another lesson in the long list of things he’s had to learn to accept.

But it doesn’t stop him from missing you. More than he’s willing to admit, even to himself.

Between college applications and finals, Leon’s life is already at full capacity, he’s fast-tracking, tunnel vision set on finishing senior year and getting into Stanford so he can get the hell out of Raccoon City. And he’s got it, he’s got this.

But then there you are, barrelling back into his life with all the force of something impossible to ignore, as if you’d never really left his orbit, as if the universe decided it wasn’t quite done with the two of you yet. Your smile hasn’t changed, still sweet and sticky like molasses. It’s disarming when you ask if he can tutor you, voice light and breezy, as if no time has passed between you at all— just a few sessions here and there! You tell him, just to save you from failing another semester of chemistry.

He agrees nearly blindly, the words out of his mouth before he has time to think them through.

It has been so long since you’d even talked to him properly, anything other than a ‘hi’ or a ‘bye’ muttered in the school hallways before you’re whisked away by your friends. He’s honestly elated you’d approached him at all—he tried not to show it, though.

And he did great the first few sessions. Sure, it was more than awkward at first—but Leon was partly thankful for it. It left little room for him to entertain the idea of staying friends with you again for long. You’d create a simple routine together wherein you’d come over to his place, he’d teach you everything from organic to physical chemistry, then you’d bid him goodnight and leave. Simple. Predictable. Routine.

But then you started to break that routine, a variable that he hadn’t accounted for. You’d kick his foot under the dining table while you worked on homework together, laugh at his jokes even when they’re painfully bad because you think it’s cute. Then when you have to migrate upstairs after his parents come home from work, you’d settle onto his bed, glancing around his room and teasing him about how little he’d changed—still the same movie posters, still the same boy you once knew.

You tell him about your day, he tells you about his, then you’ll go as far as to stay a little longer some nights, both of you acutely aware of the time but not doing a thing about it.

He finds with time, he’s learnt to enjoy your company again. It isn’t so tense, no longer like walking on the glass shards of your previously shattered relationship. It’s easier now, as if none of the vast ocean separating you was ever there to begin with. He tries not to dwell on the fact that this newfound relationship is built entirely on the twenty dollar bill you hand him each night.

Then one night Leon’s mother invites you to stay for dinner, he expects you to politely decline, hand him the twenty dollar bill for the tuition, and leave.

But much to Leon’s surprise, you don’t.

It’s catalytic, like a domino effect that he’s helpless against stopping. It gets so much worse when you offer to stay behind to help clean up. All but glowing as you strike up casual conversation with his mother, as if you’d never stopped visiting over the past six years. You’re a sweet talker, always have been, you compliment his mother on her cooking, ask her for the recipe, she tells you you’ll just have to come over and help her make it one night. You laugh, meeting Leon’s gaze as you tell her you just might have to.

God, Leon’s so fucked.

Absolutely fucked when he catches himself thinking about you in the middle of class, eyes trained like a hawk on the door to the classroom, waiting to see if you’ll show or not. You don’t. He’s not really surprised. He finds he doesn’t exactly mind though. Frankly, it’s none of his business whether you show or not, and a part of him likes the extra attention he gets out of it when you ask him all the questions you’d know if you did show up to classes while he’s tutoring you.

You’ll have your pen between your teeth like you always do, run a hand through your hair as you watch him work, bat those stupidly pretty eyelashes at him when you don’t understand what he’s trying to say.

“None of this is making sense,” You huff, shoving your head into your hands, elbows braced on his dining room table.

You catch the glimpse of sympathy that flashes across Leon’s face when you peek at him through your fingers, and eternally cringe at how you must look.

“Just one more chapter, then we’ll be done.” He promises, tapping the eraser end of his pencil on your notebook.

He’s got that boyish smile on his lips when you meet his gaze, his thin-framed glasses perched atop his face make him look so much cuter than you remember him being when you were kids.

Your heart constricts in the familiar way it always does nowadays. A sickening reminder that you have a secret; closely guarded in your heart, tucked away by lock and key. You’re in love with your best friend.

Well, your once best friend. The term "best friends" feels outdated, like it belongs to a version of you that no longer exists. It’s partly your fault— well, mostly your fault. The rift between you didn’t just appear; you carved it out with every sorry excuse you’d made at fourteen when you’d chosen your flashy new friends over time spent with Leon.

But what were you to do? Middle school turned to High School and you’d gone from the sad lonely girl at the back of the class to someone worth looking at.

And Leon? Well, you convinced yourself he was only dragging you down, or that’s what you told yourself to help to ease the guilt every time you brushed him off.

Was it shitty of you to pay your way back into his life? Yeah, but you’re also sort of a coward when it comes to confrontation. There were a million better ways to try to fix what you broke, but here you are, handing Leon twenty bucks a week for a chance to be close to him again.

Either way life moves on, and you find yourself falling for him. Stupidly, helplessly, completely.

Leon finds he’s drowning just as you are.

He’s so far past the point of just fucked. He’s utterly infatuated at this point. You’re stunning, every bit as beautiful as the word allows, beautiful as he watches you across the gym at a morning assembly. You’re busy talking to one of those jocks on the football team, Calvin? Chris? He can’t remember, he doesn’t care. Or that's what he tells himself.

He cares. He cares entirely too much, especially when you curl a lock of your hair around your finger, smiling at whatever bullshit Chris must be spouting with that mouth of his. Leon sinks into his seat further, diverts his attention to the front of the auditorium, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. He’s desperate to ignore what definitely seems like you flirting with someone who definitely isn’t himself.

He’s not jealous though, Leon isn’t jealous. ‘Course not.

That’s what he repeats to himself later that night, alone in his bed when his hand curls around the length of his hard dick, tip weeping as he gives a pitiful tug, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

He tries incredibly desperately to stifle the whine that bubbles up his throat, hand moving on its own accord as his eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath until he starts getting light headed, too caught up chasing his own high. He comes embarrassingly fast, one, two, three, four more pumps and he’s done for, your name the last thing on his lips.

Leon swallows thickly before the crushing reality that he’d imagined you as he came fills him with a burst of shame. He tries to push the thought aside as quickly as it comes, groaning as he moves to sit on the edge of his bed.

Yeah. He’s fucked.

A few weeks later, Leon finds himself sitting on the bleachers after class. He wouldn’t be caught dead out here less than a few weeks ago, but you had given him such a sweet smile when you’d told him you had cheer practice, asked him if he’d be okay waiting just a little before going back to his place for tuition.

It’s not so bad, he thinks, as he flicks through the songs on his cheap mp3 player. But even with that distraction, you’re far more captivating. You're dazzling, to say the least—dress glimmering under the afternoon sun as you go through your routine. Leon watchs and tries not to stare.

It’s when you walk up to him though, all but shimmering, glowing under golden hour, that it hits him like a freight train all at once. He’s fallen horrifically far from his pedestal, what he feels for you now is so much more than what he did for you as kids. Not just as a friend, and yet much more than a schoolboy crush.

The next few events unfold very quickly—you sit down next to him on the bleachers, the skin of your thigh pressing to his where your dress rides up. He freezes, his own skin flushing a shade of pink that he hopes goes unnoticed. You press your ear against his headset, stick your tongue out between your lips as if you’re in dire concentration, trying to hear what’s playing.

“What’re you listening to?” You ask when you pull away, pushing the headset off his head before you slide them over your own ears.

You light up at what you hear, “The Smiths? Seriously, Leon, you have not changed.”

He rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair to fix it from where your hands had mused it. “They’re good,” His voice is soft despite the protest in his tone. It’s then, you realise, that he’s blushing.

Cute, cute, cute, you think. There is a particular warmth that blossoms in your chest seeing him like this, one that only Leon can really elicit.

You smile brighter, “Yeah, I know. I love The Smiths.”

Leon looks starstruck. Of course you do.

It doesn’t stop there, much to Leon’s own disappointment. He’d hoped after the school year was over you’d go back to not talking to him, and he could move past this and never think about it again (yeah, as if).

But you don’t. At this point he should just stop wishing for anything at all. Clearly the universe is working against him in the fickle way it always has.

You call him every few nights, ask how he is, what he’s doing, if he’s busy. Things friends would ask each other. Do you count as friends? Leon would like to think so. But then again, he probably shouldn’t be picturing a friend’s face when he’s tugging at his own dick.

You should come over sometime. You say over the phone one night, voice sweet even over the shitty receptor of his home landline. His back straightens a little at your words, the lilt in your voice, as he leans against the counter in his kitchen.

He imagines you lying on your bed, feet kicked up as you hold your flashy new flip-phone between your shoulder and your ear. He wonders what you’re wearing.

Hello? Your voice crackles, and he’s immediately pulled from his thoughts. C’mon, it’s not that bad of an idea. You laugh on the other end.

He hesitates. Yes, yes, yes, his mind screams at him. Well, I mean… what for?

Lame fucking answer.

Do I need a reason to invite my friend over?

He goes a little rigid at that, mulling over his next words as he feels heat climb up his neck. So we’re friends again now?

The line goes quiet for so long he’s sure you’ve abandoned your phone and left the line open. He nearly hangs up, letting out a sigh as he goes to rehook the landline back on the wall before your voice filters through at the last minute.

Of course we are, silly! Well, I mean— I know the secret Kennedy pasta recipe now.

He smiles then. That you do.

When Leon gets to your place, the cold Summer night air is sharp against his skin. He’s barely touched the doorbell when the front door swings open, the wide smile on your face is contagious—a spontaneous reaction sets off in his heart.

“Hi,” You grin.

“Hey,” He greets, albeit a little awkwardly.

You’re endeared, to say the least.

You lead him through the familiar hallways of your home, past family photos he’s seen countless times before, into the family media room, tucked away at the back of the house. It hasn’t changed much from the last time he was here—God, what was that? Six, eight years ago?—he recalls fond memories of escaping your parent’s annual Christmas parties to watch Christmas Mountain while snuggled up on the couch together instead.

“What about that one?” You hum, legs pulled up onto the large plush sofa in your media room, tucking your knees under your chin as you wave a hand at one of the titles in the box of your father’s old DVDs.

“You wanna watch Kairo?” Leon sounds amused, pulling the title out of the box before handing it to you.

You shrug, flipping the case over in your hand, honestly having no idea what the movie is about or what you’re getting yourself into. You just want him to pick a damn movie and get on with it. He’s always been like this, indecisive and hesitant about most things—you’ve always been the opposite, headstrong and impulsive. Yet, the two of you have always been tied together with a gold thread of string, your mother likes to say so, anyway.

You and Leon. Leon and You. An apple and an orange, not the same yet still belonging side by side.

It’s Leon’s voice that pulls you back to the present, taking the case from your hands before he cracks it open and insert the disc it into the silver DVD player. The screen flickers to life, and you quit chasing the DVD logo with your gaze as it bounces across the screen to fish for the TV remote as Leon joins you on the couch.

He sits at the opposite end, and you’re acutely aware of the distance he’s put between the both of you. You’re not surprised at how your heart sinks at the implications of his actions.

Leon finds the remote before you do, silence settling over the room like thick fog as he flicks through the DVD menu. You will yourself not to get too freaked out by the eerie music or the haunting silhouette of the girl pressed against the screen.

“I didn’t think you liked horror movies,” Leon muses, not really meeting your gaze as he flicks through to press play. “Most people I know say it’s not all that great but—” And he rambles. God, he rambles and you want to kiss his stupid mouth shut.

The first thirty minutes of the movie are slow but not short of horrifying. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or frustrated when all Leon does is talk about SFX or behind the scene cuts, or how they did this and how they did that —endearingly sweet in a way that makes your heart flutter. You’re semi-grateful for the distraction.

He’s a sweetheart in every sense of the word, asking if you’re okay after you startle from a jumpscare. Partially annoyed until you realise he’s not even teasing you. You find it twice as sweet, though, when you notice him all but staring at you in your periphery.

Charming blue eyes that set you a little more on edge.

“The movie’s on the screen, not my face,” You tease, finally meeting his gaze when you glance back at him, kicking him across the couch playfully.

He swallows, praying for the upteenth time that you don’t notice the burning of his skin he feels at getting caught, before he glances back at you.

“I mean, I think I’d much rather look at you than the movie,” He shoots back, the honesty in his voice surprising even himself.

The air leaves his lungs the moment you turn to look at him, nearly giving yourself whiplash. Leon’s sure he should find this moment awkward, scary, any number of things, but he’s too distracted. You’re so tempting, sweet doll eyes, lashes that kiss your cheeks as you smile at him, and again, he finds himself starstruck.

Your gaze holds his for a moment longer than it should, a gentle tilt of your head and he’s done for. The teasing smile lingering on your lips slips into something softer, the room feels smaller, the space between you even more so.

“You alright?” You hum, you’re not even sure what you’re saying, you can’t hear your own voice over the blood thrumming in your ears.

Leon doesn’t really hear you either, he tries to, he does, but then your gaze drops to his lips and— God, is this happening? He’d ask you to pinch him if his voice wasn’t stuck in his damn throat.

You search his face, trying to find any hint of jest, but all you see is the way his eyes linger on you, tracing the curves of your lips, the line of your jaw. For the first time in a long time you find yourself nervous to kiss a boy. There’s a current between you, energy fizzling in a way that pricks your skin—fireworks, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Before you can give yourself the chance to second guess it, you close the distance, your lips brushing against his. His breath hitches, and you smile against his lips, a gentle hand cupping his jaw, curling into his soft hair. The rest of the room drowns out, all he can hear is his heart beating in his ears and all he can feel is the flush of his own skin and you. Impossibly close in a way that’s already got him hook, line and sinker.

The kiss immediately and successfully turns Leon’s brain to mush, letting out a shaky breath as you incline your head, a soft groan falling past your lips and tumbling into his. Your shoulders drop, another arm looping around his neck. It’s a lot at once, your body against his, the thrumming of his heart, the way he tries desperately not to fuck up the kiss, or give away that he hasn’t exactly had much experience in this department at all.

Leon only realises he’s still rigid when you pull away, your breath a hot puff of air against his face. He thinks you must’ve laughed, cheeks heating up, but then his eyes flutter open and you’ve got a look on your face that he can’t place. Your hand smooths down the golden locks of his hair.

“Are you nervous?” Your voice is so impossibly soft.

Leon blushes deeper. “Is it obvious?”

“A little,” You smile.

“I don’t– I haven’t–” He stutters, the words coming out a jumbled mess that makes your heart ache a little.

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” You rush to reassure when you realise what must be going through his mind. “Just… follow my lead, yeah?”

He nods, tight lipped then.

Your laugh is sticky sweet, alluring in a way that makes him feel all too light-headed. You lean in again, “Relax.”

He lets out a breath, and you take the opportunity of his parted lips to deepen the kiss properly, the muscle of your tongue flattening out against his bottom lip. Leon lets out a strangled moan—fireworks burst across your skin for the second time.

“You can hold me,” You mumble against his mouth, hands tightening in his hair. “If it’ll make you less nervous.”

Leon swallows thickly, nodding as his nose brushes against yours, lips already red and aching. One of his hands tentatively moves back into your hair, he tilts his head, trying to deepen the kiss the same way you had. His movements are albeit clumsy, uncertain; betraying his inexperience, but there’s a raw sincerity in his attempt that leaves you charmed. Slowly, he slides down against the sofa, pulling you with him, his body sinks into the cushions until he’s lying down, your body resting atop his.

You want more, more, more . Want to press your tongue to the seam of his lips, part them, taste him properly—you almost do, growing just as eager as he is as you push yourself higher atop him, bracketing his waist with your thighs as you press your lips to his harder.

Your nose knocks his glasses askew when moving your head, and you feel him tense ever-so underneath you, as if realising it at the same time, and you can sense his confidence wavering.

You pull back just an inch then, he all but groans in protest. His nose bumps against yours, lips parted and eager for more. “Slow down,” You giggle. “M’not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” He mumbles, his voice laced with embarrassment. The warmth from his blush radiates under your palm.

Without missing another beat, you reach up to carefully slide his glasses off his face. Leon blinks up at you. He looks like he’s short-circuited, giving way to a vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

“There,” you whisper, folding the frames before setting the glasses atop the coffee table. “How’s that?”

You’re cruel, though, don’t give him a moment to gather his thoughts, let alone respond. It’s a bit of cat and mouse to you; tease, tease, tease. Gve in just a little, pull away a little more.

You’re pressing your lips back to his again before another moment can pass. But Leon doesn’t protest; how could he when you’re so close, your bodies pressed together like this?

Leon’s confidence grows with each swipe of your tongue against his. His hands grow bolder, they move over your shoulder blades, down your spine, pressing against the curve of your back. A soft groan tumbles from your lips, your hips pushing down against his, he lets out a shaky moan in kind.

Cute, cute, cute. You’d drown in the soft sounds that tumble from his lips given the chance.

Your hands begin to wander, trailing down his chest, over his beating heart. You rub circles against his chest, as if to satiate the burning desire that’s stuck between his ribs.

Your lips, on the other hand, begin their descent.

You start with the corner of his mouth, then you follow the line of his jaw, down the column of his neck, the divot of his throat (that rewards you with a mewl). You decorate his collar in a blossoming painting of delicate bruises, tug down the collar of his shirt enough to reveal as much skin as possible for your lips to work over.

A soft smile curls on your lips even as you kiss him, and you realise with a flicker of amusement that he’s shaking beneath you—It’s an endearing quiver, like a newborn fawn finding its first footing. His hands tighten in the fabric of your shirt, holding on as if trying to anchor himself.

“You okay?” You hum as you pull away, Leon assumes you’re gracing him with a breather before he registers your hands working his shirt up his body.

It’d be rude to let you do all the work, so he shifts enough to tug it over his own head, discarding it on the floor of your theatre room bathed in blue—the movie long forgotten.

Leon’s large hands settle back against the swell of your hips, his thumb runs over the bone of your hip through the fabric of your shorts. He gives you a gentle nod. “M’alright,” He mumbles, but his voice has grown thick, stuck in the cavern of his throat.

“Do you… want to keep going?” You ask softly, your voice is tentative, as if dipping your toes into the deep end, testing the waters.

His mind screams yes, he settles for a “ Please ,” that comes out shakier than he’d like instead.

Your hands make quick work, moving down to undo the button of his jeans, fumbling clumsily in the wake of your excitement that you try incredibly hard to school. For the most part you do, refusing to cave too fast.

You’re acutely aware this is Leon’s first time—he doesn’t have to tell you, you can tell by his shaky voice, and shaky hands, by the way he looks at you as if you’ve just about hung the stars and the planets. To be fair, he’s always looked at you like that. Something akin to a sweet puppy.

Jesus Christ, you’re losing it.

When you finally pop the button, tug the zipper down achingly slow, Leon mewls, his hand on your hip curling into your flesh bruisingly. Fuck.

Your gaze meets his once again. “I’m gonna– I’m gonna go slow, okay? You’ve gotta tell me to stop if you don’t like anything, alright?” As desperate as you are to get your hands on him, you’d never forgive yourself if you ruined his first time.

Leon nods like he’s on autopilot, dutifully, as if the idea of you ruining anything for him is a stupid one. “Yeah, I will– Just, please, ” His voice grows impossibly quiet, “Don’t think I can wait–”

God. You go a little lightheaded.

Your hands make quick work of his jeans then, pushing them down along with his boxers. You’re blessed with a heavenly sight. His cock, pretty and flushed and all but drooling. It’s nearly erotic, has your head swimming.

“Jesus, Leon.” You huff, eyes wide as you look back up to meet his gaze.

Leon swallows thickly, throat bobbing as his eyes bore into yours, blown wide, rings of blue barely visible. God what a sight. He doesn’t respond, can’t. His throat is thick with something he cannot place. You’re a vision to him like this—hair spilling over your shoulders, framing your head like a halo, thick eyelashes that flutter sweetly down at him. His cheeks heat, neck growing impossibly hot.

Your hands dance over his stomach, his abdomen, tracing the contours of his skin as you watch his face to gauge each reaction, each shiver, every tremble of his lips.

You’re cruel, you’re so impossibly cruel and, oh— Nevermind. You’re an angel.

You giggle at his blissed out expression as your hand curls around the base of his dick. “That what you needed?”

Leon’s eyes flutter shut, head tips back as your hand inches up. He resists the urge to buck right into the tunnel of your palm. “Mmhmm…”

“Can’t speak now either?” You coo sweetly.

Something soft bubbles up past his throat, a mewl, a whine, you don’t know what to call it, but God does it make your cunt flutter in time with your heart. “C’mon, Leon, let me hear you.”

And God does he.

You pull whimper after whimper from his pretty lips, tumbling out like prayer each time. You are the chappel he worships at, the altar where he falls to his feet. He thinks if he died like this he could be happy, would go willingly, accept his fate—

“D’you want… more?” The words echo around in his skull.

He couldn’t have nodded faster.

You’re both giddy and giggling as you pull away, his hands eager as they pull your shorts and underwear off at once. If you could memorise the way he looked at you right now, you would. Leon’s eyes rove over your thighs, the space between them that glistens, in a way that makes you shy despite the hesitance in his own.

“You’re pretty,” He says thickly, and there’s not a tease behind his words, not a jest. He says them with such sincerity you stutter to a halt.

You blink, caught in his gaze. Leon watches you carefully, his own eyes wide, as if he’s not sure whether he’s overstepped some invisible boundary. The heat in your cheeks burns a little brighter, and you find yourself instinctively breaking eye contact, glancing away to gather yourself.

His words feel as if they’ve lodged themself in between the left and right ventricles of your heart. Suddenly, you feel the need to close the distance again, your hand slipping to cup his face, brushing a thumb over the flush of his cheek.

He hums against your lips, hands climbing up your back, under your shirt, slipping under the strap of your bra.

Your hips are gentle, moving over his instinctively, like something written into your DNA. The subtle brush over the underside of his length has him gasping—you preen internally at the reaction.

But you’re impatient, as impatient as he is, eager for more, eager to take, eager to please. You sink down over him slowly, revel in the silky stretch you’re graced with, moaning around his tongue as your heart feels like it’ll burst out of your chest.

The feeling is near incandescent to Leon, his mind already too far gone.

“Eyes open, baby,” Your voice comes, shattering the haze of his mind.

Baby, baby, baby.

He’s hardwired to comply.

You’re something holy above him, head crested by the glow of the moon spilling through the windows, wings of starlight, angel-song falling from your lips as your hips move over his. He wants to swallow each sound. You have the grace to let him.

Your body presses to his as you lean down, chasing his lips in a kiss that surely rewires his brain chemistry. Each moan you let out is like honey in his mouth, sweet and addicting, his tongue pushes past your lips, seeking out as much as you’ll give him.

You’re ecstasy. Entirely too addicting; Leon can’t get enough. Each time you sink down on him again, he’s sure it steals more breath from his lungs. And with earth-shattering realisation, he knows he’s not going to last. “M’close.”

He’s puppy-dog cute like this, pout on his lips, a cinch between his eyebrows that you smooth with your thumb. “I can tell.”

His hand moves to where yours are on his chest, taking one in his own, intertwining your fingers. It’s so fucking over for you.

“I can’t—” His hips buck up into yours, but his movements are reserved, you clock his desperation to hold out immediately.

“God, Leon, please do. I want you to.”

It doesn’t take much longer than that. He comes within three, four, five ruts of your hips against his, a warning on his lips before you pull off him and his release coats the muscles of his abdomen. You’re left aching, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not when you have him underneath you like this.

“Shit, God,” He groans. “That was… fast.”

You sense the apology on his tongue and shake your head before he can get there.

“No, don’t. It was… it was good.”

Leon can’t believe his ears. It was good? He did good?

“Yeah?” You hear the anticipation in his voice, higher at the end, a question.

Smiling, you nod. “Uhuh. Plus, we can… Work on it.”

The implication of doing this again sometime is enough to have him mirroring your smile.

But soon summer’s over and college is starting. You decide to take a year off, figure yourself out.

But Leon’s always had big dreams. Before you know it he’s packed his life into boxes, ready to move across the country to California. You can’t lie to yourself forever, pretend that what you feel for him is superficial, that you won’t miss him with a longing that will linger for months.

Your heart aches the night before he leaves. His head on your stomach, looking up at you with those puppy dog sweet eyes, half lidded and hair mused from where you’d grabbed and tugged while he’d lapped at your sweet cunt all night.

“I’m gonna miss you,” The words slip out softly, surprising even yourself. Lately, you’ve found vulnerability escaping you more often around him. A tenderness you’re learning to grow used to again.

Leon’s gaze lifts to yours, sweet baby blues that you try to memorise even in the low light of your bedroom. “I’ll visit.”

“I know.”

There’s a sickening silence that follows. You ache to tell him everything, pour your heart out for him to pick up, but you don’t.

Leon promises to call you as soon as he gets to his new dorm, and he does. For the first few months, everything goes smoothly. You and Leon fall back into that regular routine—you call him every now and then, he updates you on his day, you tell him about yours. But as fate has it, the chasm between the two of you begins to split once more, you feel him drift away, caught up in his flashy new life.

Turns out distance does make the heart grow fonder.

There are things Leon doesn’t tell you either. Like how he’s been binge-watching those awful horror movies you always mention nowadays (you’ve developed a weird fondness for the gore). Or that he’s started tutoring again. Or that he wishes you were here. God, he really wants to tell you that last one.

He thinks of you all the time, even when he probably shouldn’t—between classes, during his morning coffee before the 8 a.m. lab, while driving from his part-time job to campus. He thinks of you in the inbetweens, when his mind seems to wander. The thoughts come unbidden, when there’s a million other things he should have at the forefront of his mind, you’re there.

And then there’s the way he pictures you every time.

Leon’s not exactly proud of the number of hook-ups he’s had since college. One party turned into two, then three, then four. Simple drinking games blurred into long nights with countless girls underneath him who he now doesn't even remember the faces of.

Convinced if he shut his eyes, if he really focused, he could imagine it was you whimpering under him instead, your hands on his body, your lips melding around his name oh so perfectly.

It was never the same though. Never would be.

None of these girls sounded like you, none of them fucked like you, none of them felt like you did. Like they were made for him, like he could get lost in their cunts forever. It was pathetic, really, the way he’d so willingly chase that unmatchable high forever. Nothing would compare. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

So by the time semester break rolls around, he’s already packed his bags, and the four hour route from California back to Raccoon City has been set before he’s even finished his finals.

Raccoon hasn’t changed, still the same sleepy city tucked away between twin mountain ranges, the smell of pine heavy in the air. His house is how he left it, so is his neighbourhood. He drives by the familiar faded sign of Emmy’s Diner, the Police Department with its big white hollywood-style letters and rusting iron gates.

He heard that you work at the new video store down the road from his house now. Flashy, neon signs and all. Leon wonders what it’s been like for you, staying behind when he left for college, how the city has cradled you in its unchanged arms. If you’ve missed him like he’s missed you.

He pushes the glass panelled door to the video store open, the store bell tinkling in wake of his arrival. He’s fidgety. Leon hasn’t been fidgety in a very long time. He does not remember the last time he hesitated around a girl. Well, he does, it was you when he was awkward and nineteen, but since then? It has been a long road. Too long.

But then he spots you, and it’s as if the world narrows down to this one moment.

You’re leaning against the counter, eyes downcast, lazily flipping through a magazine. The overhead lights catch the strands of your hair—it’s shorter now. He wonders when you had it cut, why you chose the new style. A part of him aches, realising just how much time has passed, how long a year can be when he’s not in your orbit.

Without thinking, he beelines for the horror section, eyes scanning the rows of movie titles as his fingers brush over each DVD spine. He glances at you out of his periphery, half-watching the way you absentmindedly flip through your magazine.

Come on, come on, come on.

H, I, J, K…

Bingo.

He slides Kairo across the counter, heart stumbling in his chest. You don’t even glance up as you take it into your hands, half-focused on whatever glossy pages have your interest, but you do smile when you register the title in your hands.

“Good choice,” you hum, your fingers already moving to punch the movie code into the register.

“Yeah? You think so?” His voice is a little rougher than he intended, but he presses on, tries to act casual as he leans up against the counter. In honesty, he feels like a dork. “Most people I know say it’s not all that great…”

Your fingers freeze over the buttons. That voice, those words. Your eyes shoot up to meet his.

“Leon?”

“Hey.” He smiles, catching the way your expression shifts, disbelief melting into something warmer. “What’s wrong? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You laugh suddenly, that bright, familiar sound, filling the empty space between you. For a moment the months apart don’t seem so long. “God, you did not just quote Scream at me.”

Leon’s dusty blonde hair falls into his eyes as he drops his head to hide his grin. “Yeah that was… Not my best.”

Shaking your head, you slide the DVD back across the counter, still smiling beautifully at him. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be back in town!” You sound breathless as the words escape you.

“Just for the semester break,” He says, his voice steady but soft. “Figured I’d come back before you forgot what I look like.”

You blink. Something in his expression must’ve given him away, because then you smile—small, almost shy. “I missed you too,” you hum, and the words hang in the air like they’ve been waiting to be said.

But just like that you bounce back, as if the vulnerability in your tone was never even there at all, drumming your fingers across the countertop. “You shoulda told me, we could’ve planned something nice.”

“Oh, like a date?”

You blush. Blush. Fuck. You don’t remember him being this forward.

“Are you suggesting something, Kennedy?” You tilt your head, honeyed gaze and all.

Damn you and those fucking eyes, he thinks.

“Well, I was thinking… maybe we could go to Emmy’s after your shift? You know, catch up, and I can tell you all the terrible jokes I’ve collected since I’ve been away.”

Your smile widens, and there’s something in your eyes that makes him feel like he might’ve just found his way back home. “I’d like that, Leon. A lot.”

Emmy’s diner hums with a life that he’s missed. The sound of casual conversation, plates clattering, the soft croon of Bob Dylan from the old jukebox. It’s how he left it. Same peeling leather booths, linoleum tables, vinyl floorings, bottomless pots of coffee and the smell of sizzling burgers over the griddle in the back.

You share a booth at the back, your boots propped up on the round metal base of the table while you watch Leon with a small pout as he stands by the counter, waiting for a takeout box. The old fluorescent lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the little changes—slightly broader shoulders, a more defined jawline, longer hair, no glasses. But he’s still your Leon.

When he turns back, takeaway box in hand, he catches you in the act—a fry pinched between your fingers, dragging it through his ketchup in lazy swirls. You beam up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and Leon feels his chest do a violent lurch, feels his heart rattle in the cage of his ribs, clawing to jump out and into your waiting hands.

It’s the kind of smile that would have driven him crazy when he was younger—when he was all nerves and stuttered words around you. And God, if it doesn’t still have the same effect.

“You know,” Leon starts as he settles into his seat, “there’s a fine line between sharing and stealing. You’re definitely crossing it.”

You roll your eyes, pushing the fry basket back towards him in a silent peace offering. “You weren’t going to finish them anyway.”

Leon chuckles softly, he doesn’t know what to say then, no witty quip on his tongue or eager reply. “It's about the principle," His voice finally comes, something soft. "But I guess I’ll let it slide this once."

You laugh, and the sound is like a balm, soothing the ache in his chest. “How generous of you,” you reply, playing footsies with him under the table. It’s in this moment Leon realises, everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him. He’s spent so much of his life chasing. Chasing, chasing, chasing, he’s always been chasing.

Now he thinks he’d like to slow down.

And that’s what he does, when he takes you home that night, you twirl through the door of his old home, giddy as you track the familiar path to his bedroom. It’s how you remember it, same posters on the wall, same black Paul Reed Smith tucked into the corner.

Leon, however, is so much gentler than you remember him being, careful hands sliding up your waist as he walks you back towards his bed. Your calves hit the edge, breath caught in your throat as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His lips find yours, slot perfectly, he groans against your lips and you melt into his embrace.

Leon’s palm slides down to the underside of your thigh, lifts it up enough to help you back onto the bed.

Your words get caught in your throat, but they’re not needed—not now, not with Leon. He’s always known you like the back of his hand. His lips move over your face, your cheek, your jaw. Your arms settle around his neck.

It’s like muscle memory to Leon now, the way he slots his knee between your thighs, how his hands move over your torso, up your body.

Your mind wanders—a dangerous thing in times like these—and you find yourself growing a little jealous. You're not dense; you know he’s probably had other girls in his bed between his time away in California. You wonder if they were any good.

Leon doesn’t let you dwell on those thoughts, has your voice catching in your throat as his fingers tease the underside of your breasts. He looks up at you, those same deep blue eyes studying you, yet unreadable all the same. Your skin burns beneath his gentle touch. Hot, hot, hot everywhere he touches.

One of his hands come up to cup the same cheek he had kissed earlier, his touch featherlight. He looks at you—part adoring, part like he’s planning your ruination.

“Leon… Please. ” You beg desperately then, and in response he groans. As if he’s waited too long to hear you say his name like that again, all needy and breathless.

“Makes me wanna wreck you,” He murmurs against your mouth, his breath hot and heady, “when you talk like that. So fuckin’ sweet.”

And God if that doesn’t do it for you. A whine falls past your lips, eager, tender, desperate, and Leon’s sure he’s never heard anything as beautiful in his life.

Your skirt is off in a flash, so is his shirt, then yours, then his jeans, so on and so forth until your bare cunt is pressing against his thigh he’s conveniently slotted back between the apex of your legs. He presses his knee up against your wet cunt, mutual groans filling his bedroom. All it takes is a tremble of your lips, and Leon’s kissing you twice as hard.

“Tell me what you need,” He’s eager to please.

“You.” You, you, you, always you.

There’s a reverence in your words he cannot shake, a promise laced into the moan that tumbles from your lips. His hands smooth over your abdomen again, spreading your thighs wider to accommodate him in the space between.

“Yeah?” He hums, one of his hands runs from the corner of your jaw to your chin, the other gives a purposeful squeeze to your waist. “I need you too. Want you.”

The sincerity in his voice floors you, hits you harder than any kiss, any touch. This isn’t just lust, this is Leon, raw and open, offering you something more than you’d expected. Something you’ve always wanted but were too scared to admit. You feel the sudden sting of tears kiss the corners of your eyes, startling yourself.

“Leon…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. He cuts you off with a gentle kiss, one that’s soft and sweet, filled with a promise that leaves you breathless.

"You’re it for me. I’m yours," he whispers into your mouth. "If you’ll have me."

Your heart stumbles over itself, caught somewhere between disbelief and a feeling you’re not sure how to put into words. “I’ve always had you.”

He laughs softly then, “Yeah. Guess you have, huh?”

It’s now, he realises, you’d never left his orbit in the first place. You’d always been there, one way or another, a constant in his life he’d never be able to shake despite how hard he’d try. You really are it for him.

“I want you too,” You blurt, the words tumbling out too fast. “I want this, want you. I always have.”

The rest is unsaid. He kisses you again with a smile, your hands drift over his back, trace the contours of every plane of muscle, press against the space between his shoulders. His hands run over the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waists, caress the skin of your thighs and leave gooseflesh in their wake. You can’t stand it—how utterly gentle he is. It makes you want to cry.

You take Leon’s hand, leading it down to where you need him most. With precision you drag his fingers up through your folds, tantalisingly slow before pressing the pad of his index to your clit. You let out the softest of whimpers at the sight, his hand on your cunt. Fuck. You don’t take your eyes off the sight before you, even as you push his fingers back down, until you slip just the tip of his finger past your walls.

Your gaze flicks up to gauge his reaction, and you're more than pleased at the sight before you. Leon Kennedy, his eyes wide, mouth hung open in a small ‘o’, like he’s never seen pussy before.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You hum, amusement dripping from your lips—but your voice comes out in between panted breathes, unable to still your thump, thump, thumping heart.

He looks back up to meet your gaze, shaking his head as a grin stretches across his lips. “No, sweetheart, don’t play your games with me.” He huffs, withdrawing his hand, leaving you whining, before he pushes your thigh up to your chest.

You’re disappointed by just how fast he manages to school himself, no longer desperate for more, now invested in the waiting game.

“You want it that bad?” He croons, voice a teasing lilt against the shell of your ear, kissing the skin behind it as his body comes back down over yours. Your leg hooks around his back, hands on his shoulders, in his hair.

“Are you gonna make me beg?” Your laugh is soft, breathlessly incredulous.

He grins against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

His lips trail a path from neck to collar, tender kisses that intensify into bruising hickeys so fast your head swims. He litters your chest in lovebites, his hand moving on its own accord as he presses two fingers against your sopping cunt. He teases you, drawing circles around your entrance, grinning against the valley of your breast as he kisses down your sternum when your cunt flutters against his hand.

He drags his fingers up, up, up, presses them to the bead of your clit in a way that makes you squirm, another round of featherlight circles that makes you keen.

“Leon, holy shit—” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, watching as he sinks his fingers into your cunt, right down to the knuckle.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You don’t have to look at him to hear the shit eating grin in his words.

The pads of his fingers press against ribbed flesh, scissoring you open. When he pulls them back out, palm against your clit, a moan bubbles up past your lips. He shushes you, sweet nothings whispered against the cavern of your throat.

His hand, glimmering with your arousal, finds its way to your lips. “Open,” He murmurs, and so you do, lips parted for his fingers to press curiously against your tongue. Your heart hammers in your chest, thighs pressing into his sides as you blink up at him. You’re beautiful like this, a picture of pleasure that he wants to sear into his mind, brand across his heart so he won’t forget.

You moan around his fingers and his heart stutters pitifully in his chest, he needs to hear you like that again. “Want more, sweetheart?” His voice is rough as he pushes his hips against yours teasingly, has your eyes fluttering shut and rolling back. “Need words, baby.”

Leon chuckles as you struggle to speak around his fingers pressing to your tongue, a muffled yeah caught in your throat. He placates your whine that follows with a kiss to the underside of your jaw, lining his hips up with yours as he goes.

He sinks in as deep as he can get, searing hot, like he’s desperate to melt through, skin to skin, atom to atom. You push back, chasing that same euphoric feeling, a groan falling from your lips as you choke around his thick fingers in your mouth. You twist your neck, your nose pushing into his cheek as you seek his warmth.

“Got you,” He mumbles into your skin, voice ragged. A forearm is braced by your head before he pulls his hand from your mouth, moving to hold your body. His hand presses into the gentle curve of your waist like it was made for the palm of his hands. Smearing your spit across your skin as he goes.

When Leon’s with you like this, your body beneath his, he’s so sure this is how it’s meant to be. God, you’re perfect in every sense of the word—surely this is fate’s crashing course, isn’t it? Driven together by some higher power, an invisible thread of gold looped around both your fingers.

Has to be, surely. Feels too good when his hips push into yours, shared moans tumbling from both your lips, when his lips find yours once more and he’s swallowing each one like a man starved. You’ve missed the way he feels, how he stretches you out so deliciously, fills you up and seats deep inside you like he’s made for it.

Your hands on his shoulders blades dig burning half-moon crests into his skin, dragging your nails down his back, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest.

“Shit, pussy’s fuckin’ made for me,” He all but groans into your ear, dick pushing in at a steady pace, sickeningly slow in a way that makes you ache.

Please, please, please, your mind screams, begging for him to hurry up, give you more. You’ve waited so long to have him like this again, why should you wait any longer?

Leon’s laugh vibrates against the shell of your ear, “Beggin’ already, sweetheart?”

Oh. You’ve said it out loud.

“Don’t tease,” You plead with him.

“Tease? No m’not teasing, that’d be cruel,” He croons, “M’just taking my time with my baby.”

You want to sob. God, he is cruel. You think this must be karma for all those times you’d teased him when you were younger, worked him so close to the edge then pulled him away—

But then his hips slam against yours and a sob lurches from your throat. “Leon!” You cry, nails digging deeper into his back you worry you might draw blood.

“God, just look at you, sweetheart,” He pulls back enough to meet your gaze, hand on your hip moving to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “Crying on my dick. Fuck. ”

His hips are bruising, not an ounce of mercy in the way he ruts into your cunt.

“Can’t,” You whine, tears in your eyes.

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face, obstructing your pretty view, as his hand cups your jaw. “Yeah you can, baby.”

“No, it’s– too much—” You try to get him to understand, you won’t last like this.

He knows before the words even leave your lips. “Aw, pretty baby, gonna come f’me already?”

More tears spill from your eyes, he kisses them away with gentle lips, almost humorously different from the pace of his hips. “That’s okay,” He decides, “You wanna come now, that’s fine. Jus’ means you gotta keep taking it till I'm done.”

You’re so fucked.

“Can you do that, sweetheart?”

In the haze of your mind you comply.

“Good girl,” You arch your back at the praise, he slips in deeper if that’s even possible. “Good girl, come for me. Let me see you.”

Who are you to deny him?

You come with a soft cry of his name, words sticky with the tightness of your throat, a babbling mess underneath him as he works you through it. He’s not a complete dickhead though, he slows down to accommodate the ache between your legs, gives you a moment to collect yourself as his hand moves to interlock with yours, holding it by your head.

“How was that?” He asks you on the comedown.

You’re burning bright, you feel like the sun, your heart ablaze in your chest. Your mind is left in a haze, and when it ebbs away, it’s as though sunspots linger in your vision. You look at him, really look at him now, rings of blue in his blown out eyes, hair tousled, lips red and raw.

You kiss him in lieu of a proper response, tongue and teeth, messy and desperate as your hands hold his face. He groans against your mouth, you feel his dick pulse between your tight walls and you preen internally. Even after all this time you still have him wrapped around your finger.

You giggle at the thought, drowning in the gilding golden haze of the pleasure he’s given you.

“What’s so funny?” He hums, smile sweet on his lips.

“Nothin’,” You hum, eyes half-lidded.

He grins a little wider, something cunning. “Come again, sweetheart, didn’t quite catch that.” His hips roll into yours, a moan falls past your lips.

“I said– Oh. ” Nevermind.

Another roll of his hips.

“Speak up, baby,” Another, another, another.

You give up trying to get any words out, fruitless attempts reduced to whimpers as you melt into the mattress below him. Your hands wander back over his back, shoulder blades and muscles shifting under your palms as you sooth the ridges that have emerged from where you’d left your stinging mark.

You're tight as sin, sucking him back in salaciously. Leon’s not going to last much longer at all.

He makes as much known. He whines and you swallow each sound like it’s a sweet prize. His hips snap into yours at a brutal pace, whimpers falling from your lips at each time he drives it home. He has half the mind to pull out, but then your legs are wrapping around his waist, trapping him, keeping him firm in place.

“Sweetheart– fuck , baby–” His words carry the weight of protest but you’re stubborn, always have been.

“ Please Leon?” You’re so sweet, aren’t you? “Want it inside, want you to come in me pretty please–?”

He couldn’t say no to you if he tried. “Shit, that’s what you want, baby? Huh? Need me to fill you up real good?” His voice is low in your ear, a bark that matches his bite.

“ Yes. ”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, I’ll give you what you need, alright?” He placates, and you’re sweet as you mewl in response. “Yeah, anything you want.”

“M’so close,” He’s brought you to tears again, and this time he lets himself relish in the sight of them dribbling down your cheeks. “So close–”

Leon’s thrusts grow shallow with time, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy once more. “Let me feel you, baby,” He mumbles into the skin of your shoulder, his hand gripping yours in a knuckle white grip, the other so tight around your hip it’s sure to leave behind bruises in the morning.

Not a thing you’re saying is comprehensible anymore, slurred words sobbed into the crook of his neck as your cunt does the talking for you. You flutter around his aching length, clamping down around him as the pressure building at the base of your spine snaps in half, a broken cry of his name tumbling from your lips.

Leon reaches his breaking point in quick pursuit, tumbling over that edge just as you do, fucking his release deeper into your cunt. “So sweet, so sweet, so sweet,” He chants, a babbling mess of emotions as you milk him dry. “So good, s’good, baby, fuck. ”

For a few moments, you are nothing but two bodies, twined together, panting and huffing as you catch your breaths. Leon’s hand, still in yours, squeezes reflexively. His face falls into the crook of your neck as his fingers dig further into the flesh of your waist. You hear his breathing grow ragged, his body trembling above you. You think you hear a whine slip past his lips, only solidified when he pulls back and you catch the glassy look in his eyes.

“We should do this again sometime.” You grin playfully.

“Jesus, Sweetheart.” Leon shakes his head, wet chuckle caught in his throat. “I plan on doing this a lot more often than sometimes. ”

You hum, your knuckles tracing the curve of his cheek before you sweep his hair out of his eyes. “I’d like that.”

There’s a pause then, words hanging in the air. “But at least let me get it right this time. I’ll take you out to dinner, how’s that?”

“Perfect.”

"I meant it, you know." His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "About wanting to get it right." He looks at you like he's seeing everything he's been chasing, right in front of him.

You tilt your head, a soft smile playing at your lips. "I know."

Fate is curious, you think—tugging at the golden threads that make up the spider's web of your universe as she pleases, weaving people together and pulling them apart with equal ease. You realise, as you lie with your head on Leon’s chest later that night, that fate has been kind to you. Leon's strong arm envelops you, grounding you in a way only he ever has. Home is inbetween his arms. You listen to the gentle beat of his heart, steady in his chest, pounding beneath your ear.

Without much thought, you find yourself holding your breath, syncing the thump of your heart with the beat of his, a satisfied smile curving your lips when your breathing finally falls perfectly in time.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

#spilled ink ₊˚⊹♡#i was tryna queue this and wait for like prime posting time or wtvr #but i am not gods strongest soldier i needed to hit post right NEOW #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #sweeterthanficstion

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

fine line - p.p

chapter 2

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist\

Your attitude towards Peter didn’t change in the next few weeks, and he grew tired of it very quickly. He managed to level the playing field with the incident in the lab, but that only made you dislike him more. Always short with him or yelling at him for something negligible, you and Peter grew to resent each other.

You were leaving the kitchen one day right as he was entering when you heard a deep sigh.

“Is there a problem?” You turned around slowly and folded your arms.

“Nothing. You just always leave your dirty dishes on the table. It’s rude.” Peter shrugged as he pointed to your cereal bowl.

“Unlike you, Parker, I live here. I can leave my dishes wherever I want.” You stated as you stepped up to him, looking up a little to make eye contact.

“That’s funny. I thought all those years in boarding school would’ve taught you a few manners.” Peter often took shots at your wealth and upbringing, since being the daughter of a billionaire came with perks Peter never had access too. You scoffed loudly and stepped even closer, making your chests touch

“You want to talk about manners? At least I’m not overstaying my welcome in someone else’s home.”

“I live here, Princess. You’re just gonna have to deal with that.” Peter cocked an eyebrow as he used your fathers nickname for you.

“Do not call me princess.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Put your dish in the dishwasher and I’ll think about it.” Peter sassed as he got in your face. You glared at him before storming over to your bowl and picking it up. You angrily put your bowl in the sink, all while holding eye contact.

“No.” Peter shook his head. Sink wasn’t enough, he wanted it in the dishwasher.

You smirked a little, desperately wanting a rise out of him, and took your bowl out of the sink. You held eye contact with Peter as you opened a cabinet and put your dirty bowl inside.

“No.” Peter said, louder this time. You took the bowl out and held it up next to you as you walked back over to him.

“What are you a clean freak, Parker? You have a problem with germs?” You teased him.

“Nope. Just a problem with spoiled brats who don’t know how to clean up after themselves.” Peter shot back, making your jaw drop before you clenched it.

“Brat, huh?” You laughed sharply. “You better watch the attitude, Parker. I could get you kicked off the team in a heartbeat.”

“I’m not the one with an attitude princess.” He said with a deviant smile that made your blood boil.

“Don’t call me that.” You repeated as you raised your voice at him.

“Why? I thought that’s what you were. Daddy’s little princess.” He mocked what you called your dad as he tilted his head to the side.

“Do you really want to test me, Parker? You really want to go down that road?” Your noses were almost touching now and you were gripping the counter so hard, you thought it might crack.

“Baby I’ve been begging to go down that road for a while now. I’ve just been waiting for you to let me.” Peter retorted, hovering over you like you were his prey. His words made your scowl melt away and blink a few times in surprise.

“What? What are you-“

“Hey guys. Do you know what channel Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt is on?” Bucky asked as he appeared in the doorway, holding the remote up. You and Peter immediately stepped away from each other, coughing and fumbling with your clothing to look more natural.

“Channel 6.” You told him, pressing a cold hand to your burning face.

“Thanks. Night.” Bucky nodded in appreciation before leaving the kitchen. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with each other.

“I’m gonna…” You trailed off as you pointed towards your bedroom with your thumb.

“Me too. Goodnight.” Peter said quickly, spinning a circle as he collected himself.

“Yeah. Goodnight.” You averted your eyes as he left, putting your bowl in the dishwasher before going to bed.

You and Peter didn’t talk about the incident and did your best to avoid each other. He came in the kitchen one night when you were making brownies, awkwardly locking eyes with you before quickly looking away. You shook your head as you mixed the batter, stepping away for a moment to preheat the oven. When you looked back, you saw Peter picking the spatula you had been using.

“What are you doing? Put that down, you heathen.” You grumbled as you wrestled the spatula from him.

“What? I wanna taste the batter.” He practically whined like a child. You turned away so he wouldn’t see the smile that tugged at your lips, but he caught it anyway.

“You can taste it when it’s done. I don’t want your grubby little fingers in my batter.” You hissed as you moved the bowl of batter away from him.

“These fingers?” Peter asked innocently as he dipped his finger in your batter. Your jaw locked as you glared at him, all while he had a deviant smile on his face. You yanked the bowl away and set it on another counter before returning to Peter.

“You’re disgusting.” You scolded him as you poked his chest. “You climb the side of filthy buildings all day and you think it’s okay to stick your hands in my batter?”

“You took the spatula away. What was I supposed to do, Princess?” He tilted his head. “You left me with no other choice.”

“I told you not to call me that.” You growled.

“I don’t care. You’re not the boss of me.” Peter quipped, raising his batter covered finger to his mouth to lick it off. Before he could, you grabbed his hand and sucked the batter off his finger, aggressively letting it go when you were done.

“I said no.” You stated, wiping the access from the corner of your mouth with your finger, all while holding eye contact. You turned around hastily and poured the batter in a pan, leaving Peter a blushing mess. He gaped at you, eyes darting back and forth from you to his finger. A smirk rested on your lips as you put your brownies in the oven, not even needing to look at Peter to know the effect you had on him. You turned around slowly and walked back to him, giving him a sultry smile.

“They’ll be done in half an hour, boss.” You whispered the last word, patting his shoulder before leaving the room. Peter gulped, feeling paralyzed in place as the timer quietly clicked in the distance. He took one last look at his finger before rinsing his hands and going to his room to calm down.

You walked into the common area the next night, the jingling of your bracelets alerted Peter to your presence. He glanced up from his laptop when he heard the noise, doing a double take when he saw the right black dress you had on.

“Why are you all dressed up?” He asked, getting a little flustered as your perfume wafted his way.

“It’s called having a social life. You’d have one too if you weren’t always following my dad around like a puppy.” You effortlessly jabbed at him as you put on your earrings.

“Ha ha.” Peter laughed sarcastically. “Really though, what’s with the dress?”

Before you could insult him again, Tony came in the room and beamed when he saw you.

“Hi, Princess. What time is he picking you up?” He asked, making Peters stomach churn at the mention of a “he”.

“He’ll be here any minute. Can I stay out until 1?” You put on your best puppy dog eyes for your dad.

“You can, but I’ll send Mark 45 to kill your boyfriend.” Tony responded sweetly as he cupped your chin. You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, all while Peter died inside.

“Boyfriend?” Peter sputtered. “You don’t have a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, daddy. Not yet anyway.” You smiled sheepishly as you smoothed your hair.

“Can anyone tell me what’s going on?” Peter forced a laugh as he desperately searched for an answer.

“Not that it’s any of your business, I have a date with Harry Osborn tonight.” You said, sneaking a glance at him to see his reaction.

“Harry Osborn? As in Norman Osborn’s son?” Peter practically yelled. He couldn’t compete with a billionaires son, especially when you already hated him.

“Yeah, try not to look so shocked.” You rolled your eyes and but back a smile. “This will be our sixth date and I think this is the one. He’s gonna ask me to be his girlfriend tonight.”

“And if he doesn’t, Mark 45.” Tony booped your nose.

“Shut up.” You laughed and pushed him away.

“Have fun, Princess. I’ll see you at midnight.” He said sternly before kissing the side of your head.

“Bye Daddy.” You waved to him before he left the room. Peter watched you with a very evident pout on his face as you waiting at the table. It didn’t take long for you to notice his scowl, chuckling a little when you did.

“What’s wrong with you? Did finchel break up again?” You teased him as you glanced up from your phone.

“How long have you been seeing Harry Osborn?” He asked, a little bitterly, to your surprise.

“A few weeks. Why? Do you like him?” You wiggled your eyebrows time get a rise out of him, but his pout remained.

“No, I don’t like him. Why haven’t - - why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, sounding a little hurt. You looked at him curiously, not understanding why he was reacting the way he was.

“Why would I tell you?” You laughed meanly. “We’re not friends.”

“Yeah, but we’re like, I don’t know, family.” Peter said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at you. You stopped scrolling and looked at him with hardened eyes.

“We are not family.” You stated blankly.

“Yeah we are.” He shrugged. “Mr. Stark-“

“-Is my dad.” You cut him off. “He’s my family. Not yours.”

Peter slammed him laptop shut, looking red in the face as his lips tightened into a fine line. You looked at him curiously before looking at the ceiling and going back to your phone.

“Ah, now I see. Now I see why you can’t stand to be around me.” He laughed bitterly. “You know, I spent a lot of my time wondering why you hate me so much, and now I get it.”

“Get what? What are you talking about?” You snapped at him as you set your phone down.

“You’re jealous.” He released the word like a wild dog with a thirst for your blood, sending shivers down your spine. You clenches you’re jaw and stood up abruptly, making Peter jump a little.

“Jealous of what? Of you?” You laughed as if it were ridiculous, but Peter didn’t know how true it was.

“You’re jealous because Mr. Stark prefers me.” Peter stated, standing up as well. You were both leaning across the table now, angry breaths fanning each other’s faces.

“What? No he doesn’t.” Your voice faltered this time as Peter pinpointed the thing you were sensitive about.

“Think about it, Princess.” Peter said through a cocky smile. “He takes me on all the Avengers missions, he asks me to help him in the lab, and he made me a ridiculously intuitive suit to fight crime by his side. Does he do any of that with you?”

“He used to before you came along and ruined everything.” You spat. “You took my seat in the jet, my job in the lab, everything. Get your own family. And don’t call me princess.”

“Face it. You and I both know that if he had to choose, Mr. Stark would pick me. I’m the prodigal son.” Peter shrugged smugly as hot tears of anger threatened to spill over your cheeks.

“Thats not true. Take it back.” You stammered, not wanting to cry in front of your enemy.

“Why would I take it back when it’s the truth?” Peter asked with faux innocence. “You know what he told me yesterday? He’s always wanted a son. And guess what? Now he has one.”

You stepped back a little as Peters words cut you like a knife. He was unintentionally confirming all your worst fears and every word was a blow.

“You’re not his kid. I am. He wanted - - he wants me.” You said, voice slowly getting quieter.

“Are you sure about that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. That was the final straw for you as you realized you weren’t sure about that. You did think Tony preferred Peter, and clearly Peter felt it too. Hot tears fell down your face so you quickly turned away, wiping them on the back of your hand. Peter came out of his angry rage long enough to notice the effect his words had on you. His face immediately softened as he walked around the table to get to you. He reached out to put a hand on your shoulder and you pulled away.

“I- I have to go.” You said quickly as you wiped your face and gathered your things. Peter felt guilt sink in as he reached out again to comfort you.

“Wait, Y/n. I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. “I didn’t mean-“

“I don’t care, Parker. I have to go.” You barked as you slid the strap of your bag over your shoulder. Peter felt desperate to make it right, never meaning it to get as far as it did.

“You’re crying. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He said as he held out a hand to you. He sounded so guilty, you almost took his hand and let him comfort you. You stared at it for a long time as Peter gave you a gentle smile, assuring you he wasn’t gonna hurt you anymore. You reached out to put your hand in his, but quickly changed your mind and pushed it away.

“Just shut up.” You said miserably as a stray tear went down your face. Peter retracted his hand, holding it against his chest like it might hurt you. His eyebrows knit together in sympathy as you wiped the tear, slowly shifting your eyes from his before leaving the tower. Peter stared at the door you went out of long after you left, feeling worse by the minute.

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #spiderman

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 years ago

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Shall I Count the Ways: IX

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends. You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you, but neither of you know it nor decide to tell the other about their feelings. All the love is there, just hidden in the things you say and the things you do with one another.

A/N: From the this 50 Ways to Say I Love You list

Series Masterlist

(gif source)

9. “You’re leaving already? Nooooo.”

“I feel so terrible,” you groan when Spencer answers the phone, “I thought this was just gonna go away over night but it didn’t and I feel wooooorse!” you whine and you hear Spencer chuckle, “DO YOU FIND MY SUFFERING AMUSING TO YOU, DOCTOR SPENCER REID?!”

“No, not at all. I just...I find your whining a little cute.” when he says this, he imagines he probably has the goofiest expression on his face right now.

“I AM NOT CUTE, SPENCER. I AM SUFFERING!” you yell through the phone and proceed to cough after your outburst, “My throat hurts, my body feels heavy, I feel hot and cold at the same time, I’m pretty sure I have a fever. What’s my diagnosis, Doc?”

Spencer smiles as he leans back in his chair at his desk in the bullpen, “I’m not that kind of doctor and you know this, Y/N. Anyway, it’s just the common cold. If you drink some tea and take antibiotics for the next few days, you should be fine. You’re not dying.”

“How do you know that?” you ask through your stuffy nose.

“I’m a doctor and I know everything!”

“You just said you’re not that kind of doctor! Make up your mind, Reid!” you hear him laughing and you yell again, “STOP LAUGHING AT MY SUFFERING.”

“I’m sorry, bubs. And you call me dramatic.”

“You are,” you mumble, “I don’t have any tea or soup. I should probably go out and get some.”

“No, no. Don’t you dare go out. I’ll come by after work and bring some stuff to you.”

“Spence, no. You’re on crutches. You should be staying off your feet.”

He smirks into his phone, “Well you can’t stop me, can you?”

“...You’re such a little shit. Fine. Don’t complain about your leg hurting when you have to climb the stairs to get to me.”

“The elevator isn’t working?”

“Maintenance.”

“Oh.”

“Change your mind?”

“Not a chance.” he looks up to see everyone start heading to the round table room and he struggles to get onto his feet, “Listen, I gotta go. But I’ll see you tonight. Okay, bubs?”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

_____________

Due to Spencer’s injury, he was ordered to stay back with Penelope while the rest of the team go out to work on cases. He was a little bummed out, but he was still happy that Hotch was allowing him to continue to work instead of staying at home.

After another work day ends, Spencer immediately makes his way to the nearest store grabbing you some cough medicine, tea, orange juice, and soup. With the crutches, he struggled a bit to bring them over to your place, but he ended up getting to the third floor.

When he got to your door, he knocked a few times, listening to see if you were coming. You were probably knocked out, so he took out your spare key and let himself in.

“Y/N?” he softly called for your name.

He hobbled his way further into your apartment, finding you fast asleep on your couch with a bunch of discarded tissues surrounding you.

He set his things on the coffee table and bent down, feeling your head with the back of his hand. You were definitely feverish.

As you slept, Spencer went to work. He got a damp towel, placing it on your head to try to lower your temperature. He made you a cup of tea as well as set down a cup of ice water and orange juice. You’d choose whichever for your liking.

Then he went to your kitchen to make you that soup. It was nearly finished when you stirred awake. You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and curiously feeling the towel on your head.

“What the-” you heard some noise from your kitchen and called out in a weak voice, “Spencer?”

“Yeah, it’s me!” he ladled out some soup into a bowl and limped his way over to you, “Good ol’ classic chicken soup.” you sat up, taking the bowl, taking careful sips.

“Thanks,” you croaked out, “You really shouldn’t have done this,” you say as Spencer takes a seat on your couch.

“You’re my best friend, bubs. It’s my job to take care of you.”

“I’d hug you, but since I’m sick, that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Yeah, probably.” he then grunts as he stands, “I should head out now.”

“You’re leaving already? Nooooo.” you whined, reaching over and grabbing onto his wrist, “Can you stay a little bit longer?” you look up at him, giving him pouty lips.

He sighs and sitting back down, “How about this: finish that soup and your tea, and I’ll stay until you fall back asleep.”

“Okay,” you give him a tired smile before settling back onto the couch and continuing your soup.

It’s 10pm, an hour after you woke up, and you’re back asleep. So Spencer cleans up and gathers his things. When everything is back to how it was, he leans down, running a gentle finger along your cheek.

“Goodnight, bubs,” he cautiously presses a kiss to your hairline and exits your place, to go back to his.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine

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margo99 · 4 years ago

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Dogsitting

Hello everyone! It’s been a week since I said I was going to post this, so I am very sorry for that! But, here it is at last! This was a request from @scorpionchild81 !

Request: How about an angst/fluff henry x reader: only the closest of friends, (but with deeper feels hidden), she asks him to dogsit at her place while she is on a date for the evening. he accepts, comes over with Kal and even helps her to pick out the perfect dress! Hours later, just as a thunderstorm had subsided, he hears her tiny steps in the hallway. but his smile fades when he sees her... drenched, the dress ripped here and there, with only one shoe and bruises all over...

Taglist: @summersong69

I hope you like it! If not, let me know and we can change it up if you want!

“Hey, Henry,” you say nonchalantly while staring at the tv. You had invited your best friend, Henry, over to have a movie night in your backyard. The weather had just warmed up enough for the two of you to do it and you were so excited! You gathered every blanket and pillow in your house you could find, stung fairy lights all around, and pulled out an old projector your parents gave you and angled it at the side of your house. Henry was in charge of snacks, and of course he brought all your favourites, plus some pizza, to snack on. He also brought Kal, of course, your Australian shepherd, Luna’s, best friend. The four of you had gotten cozy in the blanket nest you made, the two dogs in the middle, and you and Henry on either side. Henry got to pick the movie this time and chose some action movie that you weren’t really into, but you were with him, so it didn’t really matter.

“Yes?” He said, reluctantly taking his eyes of the screen to look at you for a moment.

“Do you mind looking after Luna this weekend? I have plans and she doesn’t really like being alone,” you threw the last bit in at the end even though Henry already knew that Luna didn’t like to stay home alone for awfully long.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll bring Kal with me. What sort of plans?” He asked you, arching his eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, looking back at he screen. “Y/n, tell me. We’re best friends! You can’t hide things from me!” He pleaded.

“Fine, Cavill!” You said, crossing your arms and looking back towards him, “if you must know, I have a date on Saturday.” Henry raises his eyebrows, and then gives you a little smirk. “What?” You ask, annoyed at his facial expressions. It’s like he doesn’t believe you! He just shook his head and went back to watching the movie.

Saturday quickly came around and you were standing outside your closet, hair and makeup done perfectly, looking for something to wear when you heard your front door open and close. Luna jumped off your bed and ran into the foyer to great her best friend and his owner. “y/n?” You heard Henry call from outside your room.

“In here!” you yell back, still looking at your closet. The door opens behind you and you hear Henry chuckle from behind you. You whip your head back and glare at him, but once you see his face, the nerves for your date lessen and you flop back on your bed beside him and huff, “I don’t know what to wear!” Henry laughs and nudges you in the arm. Getting off the bed he walks to your closet and shuffles through your clothes until he pulls out a plain black dress and holds it up for you to see.

“I like this one,” he says. You pull yourself up into a sitting position and look at the dress. Smiling, you nod and take the dress from his hands. You head into the bathroom and change into the dress. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror and then step out to show Henry who is busy playing with the dogs on your bed. You give a subtle cough and Henry looks at you. He makes eye contact with you and slowly trails his eyes down you body, taking in your appearance. “You look beautiful, y/n,” he breathes.

You blush at his comment and grab your purse from the chair it was sitting on. “Ok, I have to go, but I’ll be back in a couple hours,” you say to Henry. He smiles and nods his head. “Bye, Bubba,” you say to Luna and give her a quick pat on the head. You walk out the front door and get in your car. You were nervous driving to the diner you were meeting your date at. The last relationship you were in was pretty serious and it has taken you a long time to get over it. That relationship ended because your partner felt that your friendship with Henry was too much for him to manage. He wanted the attention you were giving to Henry, but you couldn’t do that. Henry was your best friend! If he left, you’d have no one.

Letting out a deep breath, you get out of your car and head into the diner. Your waiter led you too your seat and took your drink order. You were fifteen minutes early, so you weren’t worried about your date being here yet. You picked up your menu and started browsing through your meal options.

“Alright, guys, what shall we do while y/n is gone?” Henry asked the dogs. Of course, they didn’t respond, rather, they just looked up at him, wagging their tails. Henry smiled and patted Kal on the head. “How about a walk?” He asked enthusiastically. The pups’ ears perked up and they both ran to the door, waiting for their human. Henry puts their collars on and heads outside for some exercise.

As Henry walks the dogs, he thinks about you and how your date is going. Because he is your friend, he hopes for the best and that you and the guy hit it off, but at the same time, He can’t help but feel something different. He wants the opportunity to take you to dinner, to hold your hand, and to kiss you. Your last partner didn’t pay enough attention to you. To the way that you tilt your head back when you laugh, or the way that you run your hands through your hair when you are concentrating. Of course, Henry loves your looks, he thinks you look perfect, but he can’t help but adore your caring side. The way you are there for all your friends when they need to talk to someone. You sit and listen to them and ask if you can do anything for them. He wants to give you the experience of being treated like you treat others.

Around ten minutes into the walk, the clouds started to cover the sun and the sky went dark. “Looks like it’s going to ran,” Henry said to himself. “Let’s head back pups,” he instructs the dogs.

Henry just got back to your place before the rain started pouring down. He takes the leashes off the dogs and settles down on the couch with them to watch some TV before you get back.

It’s been and hour. You’ve ordered your appetizer, main course, and you’ve eaten them both already. You’ve come to the conclusion that your date isn’t going to show up. You pay for the bill and head to the door. Seeing that it is raining outside, you make a mad dash to your car. Getting inside, you turn the key, but nothing happens. You try again. Nothing. You let out a shaky breath and step out of the car. “Just my luck,” you huff to yourself. You slam your car door and start down the street to your home. It is only a fifteen-minute walk, but the rain started pouring down even heavier than before and the weight of you dress was starting to weigh you down.

You turned he corner onto your street. You just needed to get up the hill and you could get into the bath and out of the rain. About five minutes back you chucked your heels off and started walking barefoot on the sidewalk. Probably not the most sanitary thing you could do, but at this point, you only cared about getting home so you could crawl into bed and cry. Starting up the hill, you were determined to get up it fast, but you suddenly step on the front of your dress and fall to the ground. You drop your shoes and put out your arms to catch yourself. That was the last thing that sent your over the edge and a loud sob left your mouth. Your dress had ripped, and you scraped your elbow and knees on the ground. You let out a breath and got up off the ground, trudging towards your front door.

Unlocking the front door, you opened it and heard the sound of nails on the floor as the dogs ran to great you. You bent down and gave Luna a pat. Henry turned the corned of the hallway, getting ready to ask about your date, but when he saw the state you were in, he was at your side right away. “Are you alright?” He urged. You shook your head and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hugged you close. He hated seeing you after a bad date, but this was by far the worst state he had seen you in.

He let you cry into his chest for a few minutes before you looked up at him, “he didn’t show up,” you choked out. Henry gave you an apologetic look and pulled you into him one more time.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he said, leading you to your room. “Why are you so wet, anyway? And where’s your car?”

“It wouldn’t start, so I had to walk back.” You walked into your bedroom and grabbed a pair of pajamas to change into while Henry drew you a bath. Leaning on the bathroom door frame, you watch as he checks the temperature of the water to make sure it was just right for you. You had always admired how he took care of you when you needed it. “Thank you,” you say to him, giving him one last hug before he left the room.

After your bath, you walk into the living room to see that Henry had fallen asleep on the couch. You smile to yourself and gently pull a blanket over him. You grab you pillows off your bed and make yourself a makeshift sleeping area on the opposite couch. “Goodnight, Henry.”

#henry cavill #Henry #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #Kal #request

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maevemarethyu · 4 years ago

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Unexpected (2/?)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Warnings: Cheating, Threats, Sad Boi Hour, Heatbreak, I’m not quite sure what else.

Steve and Sam are waiting for Bucky when he walks into the shared living room; looking every part of a pair of worried parents. The familiarity of it lifts a weight from his shoulders. Meeting you hadn’t been what he expected, then again, he didn’t know what he was expecting in the first place.

He only knew that you weren’t it and he was glad.

“How’d it go? You rushed outta here before either of us could stop you.” Steve worries, resting a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Steve had been there for him for as long as Barnes could remember and Sam had been a rock keeping the two old men above water in the new age.

“Y/N is something.” He mutters cryptically as he crashes onto the couch, mind swirling as he tries to make sense of everything that had happened. The lack of elaboration has his friends looking at him for an explanation.

“Something as in good or something as in she threw something at you and called you a liar before chasing your ass away from her house.” Sam asks, taking the seat next to Barnes and earning a glare.

Good. You were definitely good despite your very bad situation. He had run to you half cocked with no plan and laid what was probably the worst news possible on you while your kid was asleep in the other room.

“She- They- a kid. She has a daughter named Laysa. Four weeks old.” Disbelief laces his voice. He could understand why Claire would cheat on him; he was a broken weapon made by HYDRA with more issues than Time Magazine. But, you?

He couldn’t understand why anyone would cheat on you. You were beautiful and thoughtful and the brief glimpse he’d caught of the fire in your eyes made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to elaborate on for a long while.

And you had a child. Patrick had a family with you; a domestic life Claire had snubbed Bucky for desiring.

“What?” Steve says through grit teeth. The Captain was like his friend; he too wanted to eventually settle down and start a family. When they were younger, the two Brooklyn boys had it all planned out. They’d marry the loves of their lives and get houses side by side; their kids would grow up together and they’d take turns having Sunday brunches at each other’s houses till they were old and gray.

The dream may have been postponed a few decades but, when Bucky told Steve about proposing to his long-time girlfriend, he was happier than he could ever remember being. After all the shit HYDRA put him through, he was glad Buck had found a nice girl like Claire.

How wrong he had been.

“You did the right thing telling her. She deserved to know.” Sam adds but, Bucky just shakes his head.

“I could have worded it better.” He admits, twisting the ring on his finger. “She opened the door and I blanked. Then I basically yelled it in her face: Your husband is fucking my wife.”

He watches Steve’s face go red from secondhand embarrassment and Sam fails in holding back a laugh but, they all fall silent when someone clears their throat. Barnes feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise as he reluctantly turns to face the new person in the room. A person he had purposefully left out of this because A. She was on a mission and B. He thought she would raise hell when she found out.

“Hey Nat…” Steve coughs awkwardly.

Fresh off a hard mission, covered in scrapes and bruises, and scowl on her face; Natasha Romanoff looked ready to raise all seven layers of hell.

“Someone. Explain.” She asks calmly… too calmly. It unnerves the three men in the worst way possible and Bucky’s explaining the situation before his brain can catch up. Once he’s finished, the woman simply mutters an okay before walking out of the room and leaving the trio speechless.

She returns a minute later in a fresh change of clothes and is stuffing knives in different pockets of her pants.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, curious and worried at the same time.

“I’m going to fucking kill them.” She announces, making her way to the door. If it were anyone else, Barnes would have thought it was a joke but, he knew Natasha. He knew what happened to people that hurt her family and, even thought he loathed himself for it, he still cared about Claire.

“Natalia.” She stops with a huff when Bucky calls her name. “Please, don’t.”

For once, she doesn’t fight him and she instead takes a seat on the armchair across from him.

“If I ever see her again, I will not hesitate. I mean it Bucky.”

“She doesn’t even know I know yet. Neither of them do. Y/N wants to wait until her divorce papers are ready.” Her green eyes soften at his obvious pain. In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never seen him like this. “Her friends are lawyers and she asked if I wanted to meet them with her tomorrow.”

“I hope you said yes.” To his surprise, its Steve that says it. Out of everyone in this room, he’d have thought Steve would be the one handing out second chances. In a messed-up way, he was glad the courtesy didn’t extend to cheating spouses.

“I did. We’re meeting for breakfast.” He nods, and the three Avengers let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Mr. Barnes.” FRIDAY’s voice echoes in the silent room. “There is a Miss Y/N Voight calling for you. Should I take a message?”

As soon as the AI says your name, his breath catches in his throat and his mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario: Patrick came home and something happened to either you or Laysa.

“No, you can patch her through Fri.”

There’s a shuffle over the speakers before your voice is heard.

“Hello? James?” To his relief, you didn’t sound any more distressed than you were when he left.

“I’m here Y/N. I’ve got Steve, Sam, and Nat here with me. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, hi other Avengers. Yeah, it’s just that I called Matt’s secretary and explained the situation. She told me to bring any official pre-nuptial documents with us tomorrow and figured I should let you know but, I didn’t have your number. Had to call the station to get this one.”

He didn’t like the idea of you calling your husband’s place of work but, you didn’t sound bothered by it and he hopes its because you managed to avoid talking to him directly.

“Секретарь? Я думал, вы сказали, что юристы - ее друзья.” The secretary? I thought you said the lawyers are her friends. Natasha asks in her mother tongue, a habit she and Barnes had gotten into whenever they needed to have a private conversation, and the man shrugs.

“Они мои лучшие друзья и заботятся обо мне.” They're my best friends and, they care about me. You reply without missing a beat, catching everyone in the room off guard. “If I tell them before tomorrow, nothing is stopping them from finding and maiming Pat… my soon-to-be ex-husband. You aren’t the only one with scary friends Barnes.”

Your words were so brazen that Bucky could picture you sitting on the phone with a smirk on your face as clear as day and a grin finds its way onto his face; earning a curious glance from Steve.

“Anyways, I’ve gotta go. Laysa’s fussing.” Sure enough, a sharp cry comes from the speaker. “I’ll see you tomorrow James and, I guess goodnight everyone else? Keep up the good work? Bye.”

When the call ends, everyone’s eyes turn to Bucky and he keeps his head down. It was kind of you to risk a confrontation with your husband to help him get prepared for tomorrow. He couldn’t imagine being kind in a situation like yours. You had a child to worry about through this; you had every right to be bitter.

“Fri. Can you print out-“

“Already on it Mr. Barnes.” The AI announces and, not for the first time, Bucky is grateful for Tony’s stubbornness. If it weren’t for Stark there wouldn’t be any pre-nuptial documents. James had thought it a waste of time when it was first brought up but, it looks like he’d need to thank the billionaire once more for forcing him to sign the papers.

“She sounded oddly cheery for someone who just found out their husband was cheating on them.” Sam frowns, causing Bucky to look at him in confusion.

Did Sam not hear the way your voice cracked when you mentioned calling the station? Could he not tell you had just cried your voice hoarse? Was he oblivious to you attempt of covering up your pain with thinly veiled humor?

No, you were not cheery. You were shattered, just like him but, you were trying your best to seem put together. He could see right through you. His friends though, they didn’t seem as attuned to your sorrow.

“We all process grief differently. For all we know, she’s still in shock.” Steve reasons, ever the mediator.

“She sounds like she has her hands full.” Natasha hums in agreement. “She’s probably focused all of her attention on the baby. I know it helped Laura whenever Clint was away on missions.”

You were coping, in your own way. Barnes decided to take your lead, standing from his seat.

“Heading to bed Buck?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you all in the morning.” He lies before leaving in the direction of his room. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, not with the images of Claire and Patrick burned into his eyelids so, he bypasses his bedroom and makes his way to the gym a floor below. He hated lying to his friends but, they were like yours, they cared about him almost too much. They were always so eager to help and he was grateful for it, really, but sometimes he needed to be alone in order to work through whatever problem he was having. The man liked his solitude.

When Bucky had told Steve he wanted his own apartment, the blonde nearly had a conniption but, he eventually relented and together they had found a place not too far from the compound. Right now, he was missing his little slice of solitude.

Thankfully, the gym is deserted when he arrives and, as he sets up a punching bag, his mind wanders; remembering times when his life wasn’t so damn complicated. Back when he’d spend the afternoon looking down alleys to make sure Steve wasn’t getting his ass handed to him. Back when the most he had to worry about was whether to take Sally or Jane dancing that evening.

He can only stay in that headspace for so long before he’s back to reliving the worst moment of his new life. He had thought he finally got it right with Claire; he used to think she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, she was smart, a kick-ass agent, she made him feel like he was able to put himself together again with her help. She was too good for him and he used to think it was only him who thought it.

After years of being together, she’d finally thought it too.

A hard jab to the bag slices it open, pouring sand into his sneaker and he almost yells in frustration. Then he remembers you and the way you chucked your phone past his head without so much as a sound. His anger was explosive but, yours? Your anger was silent and seething; dare he say calculating.

He wondered if you’d look as lovely screaming as you did seething before shaking the thought from his head with wide eyes. Whenever he and Claire argued; whether or not she was pretty was the last thing on his mind.

Comparing you to his wife should have been the last thing on his mind but, no matter how hard he tried, your face was the one to pop up when he lost focus. He wasn’t upset by it thought, he’d much rather remember your face instead of Patrick and Claire’s in the throes of passion.

Yeah, he’d much rather remember how nice your smile was as you got your daughter’s bottle ready.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic

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captain-emmajones · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Emma (7/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem <33)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Big thank you to @profdanglaisstuff for being a wonderful beta and having my back all through this work!

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 7000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING, Part 6 - CARDIGAN

Note: This is it, the great, the terrible last chapter. I hope you guys will like this as much as I tortured myself writing it, making sure it is the perfect ending to this story :’) It’s been a pleasure writing this story, I loved every second of it and yeah...Thank you for sticking with me through this. It’s been really lovely having you as my readers.

PART 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Present Day -- August, Storybrooke, Maine.

That night, Granny’s dinner is fuller than usual. Fuller with people, fuller with life.

It’s an agreeable summer night, the air a cool breeze against Killian and Emma’s bare arms as Mary Margaret and David argue over the color choice of the napkins for their upcoming wedding. Crickets chirp all around them, seeming to mock them.

Their plates of food are now empty, and Ruby expertely piles them up on her left arm as Mary Margaret shoots a death glare at her boyfriend.

“White is simply perfect, David.”

“So you play Snow White once in High School and now it’s your favorite color? That’s ridiculous, Mary Margaret.”

“Is it now? And what kind of color would you go for? Orange?”

“Well, orange would be a statement for one!”

“Over my dead body, David. It’s white or nothing.”

If Emma weren’t so distracted by the warmth of Killian’s fingers around hers, she would have probably choked on her beer and mumbled “Mary Margaret - 1, David - 0.”

Thankfully for everyone, the palm that curled around hers a few minutes ago metaphorically threw her straight into a pink cloud kind of paradise.

Looking up from their intertwined fingers, Emma is greeted by the very real purple pink clouds in the night sky, behind Killian and Mary Margaret’s back. They are sitting opposite Emma and David, while Ingrid sits in the middle, a small contented smile on her lips, as she eats her onion rings in silence.

Fairy lights hang above their heads. Emma loves fairy lights, she always has.

“Why not settle for another color, mates?” tries Killian in a calm, soothing voice, and Emma is surprised he is talking at all.

He should know better. Grave, stupid mistake it is to get between Mary Margaret, David and their napkins.

“NEVER,” the couple answer as one voice, and Emma watches with a chuckle caught in her throat as Killian backs away, hands in front of his face.

“Wohoho, mates. Calm down. The only people you’re allowed to kill are each other.”

And as Emma swallows another grin, she thinks Killian and she haven’t talked about it, but that’s fine. Emma’s brain doesn’t seem able to come up with words, anyway.

A few hours ago, the walk back to Ingrid’s was achieved in near complete silence, and it was weird -- considering with whom she was walking. Actually, cross that -- it was weird to be walking back to her childhood house with Killian Jones, period.

But Emma was able to find comfort in Killian’s lack of words as well, and god knows how talkative Killian can be, she found comfort in his breathy tone when he handed her the box back and the flush on his cheeks, knowing if she could barely hear anything if not for her own heartbeats, surely he wasn’t pulling this any better than she was.

“Earth to Emma, would you like a desert?”

Emma blinks. Two green eyes are staring at her.

Right. Dinner. Granny’s. Damnit, focus Emma. Ruby’s voice sends a shameful loop down Emma’s belly.

“...Mmm, no, actually. I’m fine, for now.”

Ruby’s raising an eyebrow. Everyone is staring at her. Why are they staring?

“Are you sure, Ems?”

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“...It’s just, it doesn’t sound a lot like you.”

And then Emma’s pretty sure her hair stands on end.

“Really.” And each word is meant to sound more threatening than the last. “I. Am. Fine. Ruby.”

She’s not looking at him, but Emma catches Killian’s small chuckle all the same. It’s hard to ignore how easily her rage melts away, and she hides the beginning of a smile behind a napkin.

“Fine.” And Ruby nearly sounds like she is the one who got attacked. (Perhaps she was. But she deserved it.)

As the waitress disappears in a clatter of heels, Ingrid is tapping a napkin against her mouth, delicately, and Emma knows very well what this means.

“Well, it’s already 10pm. I think I’ll leave you youngsters to it.”

Emma watches as Ingrid folds the napkin in front of her, just like she always does, and gracefully stands up.

“Goodnight, kids.” Ingrid grins, and everyone replies with a lively “Goodnight, Ingrid!”

A kiss is dropped onto Emma’s forehead, and Emma doesn’t miss the subtle pat on the back Killian receives on Ingrid’s way out. Emma thinks Ingrid’s always liked Killian, but then she stops thinking about it because David and Mary Margaret are coughing, and it is the least natural piece of acting Emma’s had the chance to witness in a while.

They both exchange a sly glance, nod and stand up at their turn, and Emma stares at them -- cheeks burning.

“Yeah, we’ll go, too. It’s getting pretty late, and we flew in very early this morning.”

Traitor, shout Emma’s eyes at Mary Margaret, but the small brunette is smiling with all of her teeth out and doesn’t seem concerned by Emma’s impending murder threat.

“Enjoy your night, guys,” David looks far too delighted. “Byye.”

“Aha, bye guys.”

Away from Granny’s dinner and up Main Street towards Granny’s B&B, the couple vanishes into the night.

And just like that, Emma and Killian are alone under the fairy lights.

Chirp, chirp.

This time, Emma cannot ignore the childish panic that strangles her throat, as his touch begins to burn her skin and her hand slowly slides out of his palm. She looks down at the green plastic table.

What to do now? Jesus, she is not nineteen anymore, she needs to take initiative, and—

“Fancy a walk along the beach, Emma?”asks Killian, and Emma is so thankful for the distraction she nearly knocks the table down as she springs to her feet.

“Excellent idea!” Why do her legs feel so wobbly?

And Killian smirks, and she wonders if he knows just how badly she is afraid, of him, of her, of risking her heart.

“Perfect then, let’s sail away.”

But she wants this to work, she wants them to work. She spent a good part of her life agonizing over this relationship, daydreaming about it, and then cursing it, and it better be as good as she thought it would be.

As things turn out, this walk along the beach feels like brutally falling down a rabbit hole. It knocks the wind out of Emma and it is wonderfully terrifying.

The wind blows that night. Salt air dances with Emma’s light dress and Killian’s hair.

Emma’s shoes dangle from her fingers, but she is still shaking like a leaf.

Awful, isn’t it, to finally get all you’ve ever dreamed of?

She knows it’s not entirely hers yet, she knows she still has to dash forward and grab it with her two hands, and not let it go – on any account. (Do you want it?)

It’s terrifying.

She did not reach out to Killian, this past month, although she knew about his letter...and she probably wouldn’t have reached out first, had he not appeared on her porch.

There is still this stupid fear, down her stomach, this stupid fear that he never cared, he never will, and this is all a sick joke.

(She wants it.)

“Should we sit?”

“Aye.”

He complies as she sprawls into the sand she feels moist under her toes, sitting down a few inches from him.

Somehow, staring at him still feels illegal.

When he gets a flask of rum out of his leather jacket, she rolls her eyes, and her bracelet glints under the moonlight. For the first time in ages, it is not a painful sight. She does not twist the little charms.

“Really? Is rum your solution to everything?”

“It’s not rum, Swan. It’s merely water.”

“Is it now?”

“Nah, it’s definitely rum. But it never hurts to have a drink between friends.”

And at that wicked, wicked word, they both stare at one another and gape slightly.

It should be funny. Except it still itches.

Aren’t they friends?

There are stars reflected in his eyes. There is still this ache inside her chest.

Emma is urged by a desire to look down then, but she doesn’t cave in. Instead, her mouth curves into a smile.

“…Friends or other types of acquaintances,” he adds after a while, and Emma’s smile widens.

The flask of rum is handed to her, and she drinks a few mouthfuls that diffuse a sweet heat and courage down her throat. Lord does she need it.

“Acquaintances, you say, um?”

She licks the small drop of rum that rolls down her lower lip, notices with satisfaction as Killian’s eyes follow the movement of her tongue and widen when he realizes she has caught him red-handed.

“Aye. I believe we’ve been acquainted.” There is a delicious twirl, down in her stomach, that could drown her fears, she knows it, if only she allowed herself to let go.

“Right.”

Idiot. Her cheeks burn. It is ridiculous, they are ridiculous and she doesn’t mind.

Woosh, woosh, the waves giggle.

As Emma inhales deeply, she figures she has to give him back his flask and that this -- whatever the hell this really is -- is probably going to be more difficult than she initially thought.

Her fingers brush against his as his hand closes over the flask -- of course they do -- and Emma couldn’t honestly say who’s to blame.

“Thanks, Swan.”

Oh, how many scenarios she made up in her mind, about him showing up. They all ended with their lips locked together. What she had a very hard time figuring out was the in-between. The talking. The confession. Because there has to be one, right?

She hears him gulp a few mouthfuls of rum down next to her and she refocuses her gaze on him. He clears his throat.

“So, erm, any plans for the foreseeable future?” he inquires.

The flask is buried in the sand between them.

“I don’t know, to be honest. For now, I think I’ll stay in Storybrooke. It’s my home.”

And then a pause, she glances at him through her eyelashes. A mischievous wave comes crashing at their feet, bites their toes.

“What about you, Killian? Still in Portsmouth?”

She watches him tilt his head next to her as he carefully sieves a handful of sand between his fingers, brows furrowed.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about moving back to Storybrooke. Joining the Navy again would not be easy, and I’m not sure it’s entirely what I desire. I mostly did it to honour Liam but it’s never been a dream of mine…”

A pause, a breath, for him, Emma has stopped breathing somewhere after “Storybrooke”. And her mouth refuses to shut.

“Plus, there’s the fact that Graham did mention the need for another deputy,” he casually adds, shoots a swift glance at her.

Oh. Breathe, Emma, breathe.

It’s very hard, then, for Emma to swallow the smile that tingles her lips.

“You are?” she asks, curses silently her quivering tone. Clears her throat. Dammit, why did it come out like this?

If he notices it, Killian doesn’t show it. Instead, he goes on, the ghost of a smile over his lips.

“Aye. I don’t think there’s anywhere else for me to be. It is high time I came home.”

Home. The word echoes between them, much like the gentle rustling of the waves.

And Emma nods and she has no idea where to put herself, what to say. She settles for telling the truth.

“That’s great. I could really use you around.” A pause. “I’ve missed you.”

Twinkle, twinkle the stars in the night sky, and the constellations in her heart as her eyes meet his. They put to shame the sea of stars in front of them.

Emma’s heart is bursting out as he slowly glances down at her lips, and then even more slowly looks up, a dangerous grin overtaking his features.

“Aye. I’ve missed you too, Swan. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

Hearing him repeat her words is positively the worst thing that could have happened to her heart rate. That one nearly rips her heart out of her chest and sends it ricocheting on the waves.

She nods, laughs a bit, crinkles her nose mostly to hide how flustered she truly is.

“How…How did this happen?”

And he sighs next to her, a very dramatic sigh that she recognizes as a poor attempt to hide a deeper kind of pain. She watches as he stretches his legs, digs a shape into the sand with his fingers.

“How did you end up marrying Neal Cassidy, you mean? Poor judgement, if I do say so myself.”

The bastard.

She elbows him in the ribs, of course, he deserves it.

And he only chuckles, feigns a moan of pain, and… and grabs the arm she threw at him to bring her closer to him. There are grains of sand stuck to his skin as his hand closes over her fisted palm. As he stares at her, all air has definitely been knocked out of Emma’s lungs.

His nose gently brushes hers. Little pulses of magic seem to climb up her hand, her arm, to gently tickle her heart.

And she gazes into his eyes, mortified. Swallows hard.

“To be fair, he did hide that letter from you. A shame really, it was truly a pearl of literature.”

His breath tingles Emma’s lips, and it isn’t fair.

She snorts, she tries to at least, because it is hard to do anything when he is this close to her.

“David told you,” she mumbles, rolls her eyes dramatically, blushes furiously.

He isn’t denying the letter. He isn’t denying anything.

“Aye that he did. You can’t trust the guy with a secret, love.”

She doesn’t know what David told him over the phone, but Emma thinks it is safe to assume that it is somewhere near absolutely everything. And it should bother her, it should bother that secret and private part of herself, but Emma’s tired of fighting against herself, and she lets it go. All of it.

Her hand is still in his, twisted against his chest, right above his heart. She doesn’t mind. They could remain like this, forever, for all she minds. But that wouldn’t be very practical, now, would it?

“And it’s not like I didn’t know…” he continues, and Emma’s mouth drops even more, if it is possible. “I think I’ve known from the moment I met you. Haven’t you?”

A nervous chuckle shakes her shoulders.

“What exactly have you always known?”

“You can’t answer my question with another question, Swan. That’s just not how the English language works.”

“Well, if you could drop the metaphors and double entendre, then perhaps, perhaps I…” A breath. There’s no need to hide anymore, although something ludicrous seems about to explode inside her chest. “Y-yes, I think I knew...But I --”

“-- Good, because in that case, there’s no use for me to hold back from doing this…”

And as she opens her mouth to complain about metaphors and double entendre, again, he leans into her, tilts his face and, as Emma’s heart does a weird leaping thing in her chest, delicately presses his lips to hers.

While Emma does think it is definitely very rude of him to interrupt her like that, she cannot bring herself to complain too much.

Neither can she ignore the sudden explosion in her chest, thousands of strawberry bubbles of happiness that taste of childhood and dreams bursting out.

Oh god. She muffles a moan against his mouth, snatches her hand from his grip to tug at his hair, brings him closer to her, as close as humanly possible, presses her mouth harder against his, as hard she can, and she quite literally feels like a house set on fire.

Thump, thump, cries her heart, as their lips dance together, as his hand gets lost in her hair, and no air reaches her lungs and this goddamn flower keeps blooming inside her chest and there isn’t any space between them, and she’s pretty sure she’s combusting into flames, but it’s fine, it’s really fine when his mouth opens and gives her access to his tongue.

It’s a gentle kiss, in spite of the passion. It’s such a gentle kiss, in the way with which his hand tenderly lingers in her curls, as if he were afraid she’d shatter under his touch, or in the way his other arm curls around her waist, holds her tightly, but not too tightly, so as not to break her it seems.

Years of yearning will do that to you, make you afraid of shattering the glittering and fragile object of your affection.

And when they let go, burning forehead against burning forehead, because they really, really need to breathe, Emma doesn’t want to run. In fact, she doesn’t want this to ever end. And she doesn’t know it, but she smiles.

“Then why –” he begins, his lips lightly, delicately brushing against hers as he speaks.

And how dare he be talking! She can barely breathe.

“—why the wedding?” she lazily answers against his lips. “Because I didn’t think you cared…” A pause. “You never told me you did... You didn’t even call, after the k-kiss.”

Damnit, that was harder to spit out than anticipated. And it probably sounded more accusing than she wanted it to, but she forgives herself.

The painful memory allows her to step back a little, to gaze into his blue eyes and discover his cheeks crimson and an awestruck look on his face, as well as a lot of guilt and tenderness.

A sigh. “Of course I didn’t. I was waiting for you to do it. You were bloody engaged, may I remind you.”

Her brows furrow.

“And I did! But you didn’t answer.” Silence. “Tink did.”

She watches his features with weariness. She watches as he frowns. Backs away slightly, to gaze into her eyes, seems to seek the truth. And then, sighs.

“Of bloody course. Tink.” Emma watches as he rolls his eyes dramatically, hisses a few insults between his teeth.

She thinks he is still infuriatingly handsome.

Another nervous laughter begins rattling her body, because this is ridiculous, they are ridiculous, they just had to talk it out and it would have been fine but --

“Seems like our lack of communication isn’t only on us.”

Emma smirks. “Well, it’s mostly on us.”

“Point taken.” And it’s unfair because he smiles a bright smile then and her heart jumps once more.

And he looks down, again, at her lips, and Emma feels frozen only she is burning. She needs to kiss him again, and forever, probably.

“But if you cared--” Why is he talking again? She opens eyes she didn’t know she had shut to dart a murderous gaze on him. He doesn’t see it, the fool, keeps talking instead. “--why did you ask me to forget our kiss?”

That nearly knocks her out. “Our kiss? Which kiss?”

She doesn’t know just how right she is to ask this question.

He raises an eyebrow. His cheeks are flushed and his hair dishevelled, and Emma has to focus to look into his eyes and not stare at his swollen lips.

“You mean to tell me you don’t remember?”

And his eyes do a weird twitching thing. He doesn’t seem alright. And he sounds a little bit as if a part of himself has just died.

“I mean… I sure as hell think I would remember this.” Oh, she totally would.

“Your nineteenth birthday,” he exhales, and if he could raise his eyebrows any harder, they’d get stuck up his hairline, “we kissed on the rooftop right before you fell to the ground.”

Well, she does remember the wicked headache she got that day, but she thought it was caused by the alcohol and…

“No…Yes?” A pause. She frowns. Realization sinks in. Well that would explain a lot, indeed. “We did?”

That would explain his crumpled face as she asked him to forget their night, it would explain why he avoided her all through summer, and why he stayed with Milah, and why she started dating Neal in the first place, and oh -- they are two idiots, aren’t they?

“Aye. And you specifically asked me to forget that night.”

If she keeps frowning her eyebrows will remain stuck forever. She frowns harder.

“But I had no memory of that kiss.”

“Bloody hell.” And Killian lets go of a very dramatic sigh, shakes his head.

Emma’s mouth forms an “O” as she watches Killian glance further away, to the sea, and she begins to understand years of struggle could have been avoided, had they, had they…well, talked about it, it seems.

An angel passes.

“Damnit,” she whispers.

And Emma is surprised to find a chuckle tickling her throat. Why is she laughing? This isn’t funny.

He still isn’t looking at her. Impish waves keep nibbling their toes. She hates how heavy everything suddenly feels.

Emma thinks that all this time he thought-- he thought she didn’t care, but she did, oh she cared, and...

Emma breathes in, fingers pressed to her temples. Shrugs a bit, breathes out and casts an eye on Killian. He doesn’t seem alright. But she knows how to distract him.

“Since I don’t remember, allow me to ask: did you kiss me?”

His blue eyes flash in the dimness as she smirks.

She doesn’t think she has seen him look this offended before.

“I beg your pardon? You bloody kissed me, Emma!”

His high pitch does make her chuckle.

“Don’t give me that offended look. That does sound like something you’d do.”

Oh, the wrath sparkling in his gaze then, it’s a sight for sore eyes, and she cannot stop smiling.

“Nah, you were the one who melted onto my lips and sucked the bloody life out of me, perched on your high heels.”

“They weren’t that high. And, at least I did something about my feelings.”

“Well, you forgot so it was pretty useless in the end, anyway.”

“Hey!”

And her fist punches his chest, and he captures it again, traitor, and time stands still for a moment, as they glance at each other.

Everything still feels very fragile and terrifying. But that’s quite alright.

And then with a swing of his hip, he shifts her under his weight, onto the sand, and her body meets the ground softly.

His face surrounded by dark, tousled hair hides the moon from her sight, but as her breath catches in her chest, she doesn’t mind.

“You were saying?”

“Mmm…”

Emma thinks sand will get stuck in her hair. And it’s going to be a pain to wash it out. But that’s okay.

They’re only twenty-three, murmurs her inner voice, they’re allowed to be young and stupid and messy and –

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t take us another ten years to figure our shit out. Wouldn’t be nearly as sexy.”

“Speak for yourself, Swan.”

“Idiot.”

And without a second thought, or a first, she raises her face to capture his lips, drink his breath, because she is allowed to, and this is right and all she’s ever wanted.

Up the beach, down Main street, Killian and Emma walk along the roads of their childhood.

Emma doesn’t know where they are going, but it doesn’t seem to matter, not just yet.

Fear is of course lurking in one deep corner of her mind, but it is easy to ignore it while her hand is safely tucked in his.

“Where are you staying?” she asks as they shift to stare at one another.

Granny’s green B&B sign flashes behind Killian’s back.

Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Granny’s.”

Emma remembers New York’s cold street lights, and the snow melting onto her lips, and Killian’s damp hair, and the sad glimmer in his blue eyes and her cold, shaking hand in his.

It was the night she decided to give him up, not knowing, not knowing he cared too.

It was the night she would have burned in hell to hear him invite her into his hotel room.

(Was it worth it, all the pain, in the end?)

“Fancy a last drink, Swan?”

Streetlights dabble gold beams into his blue eyes.

She nods, a little out of breath. Something soft and awful swallows her from inside.

“Yeah.”

And down the road, up the stairs, they go, hands clasped together. Her bracelet jingles up the stairs.

Emma remembers standing on his porch before her eighteenth birthday party, forehead pressed to the door, eyes locked on her phone screen, heart beating fast, fast.

“Come in whenever you want, I’m ready!” And her stomach twisting at his reply.

Things were so easy while she was still convinced that she was in love with him and she would never love anyone else and they had all the time in the world.

She was wrong, but that’s also fine.

(Isn’t pain just pain?)

Click, he’s unlocked the door, and Emma steps forward to gaze inside. Beyond Granny’s questionable decoration choices, everything is clean and proper and Navy and Killian. What a relief.

It is quite late now, and exhaustion burns Emma’s eyes, circles her throat and crudely brings to light her fears and insecurities. She feels bare, exposed, vulnerable under the dark green chandelier.

For a short moment, she fears there will be too much to mend between them, too many scars over their chest for them to offer their hearts again.

“Make yourself at home, Swan.”

The red leather jacket is dropped onto the bed just as he neatly folds his own on a chair by the wall.

And she keeps staring at those four walls, at this cramped room, and she thinks a month ago she was marrying someone else.

She’s still scared. Is she supposed to be scared?

“You okay, love?” he nudges her.

His hand softly grabs her shoulder.

She shrugs. If she is honest with herself, she does feel a little bit overwhelmed. This room is too silent. She can almost hear past echoes of their hearts breaking.

“Yes, I’m just…”

“Reminiscing?”

A smile. “That’s not the word I would have gone for, but yeah.”

His hand hurtles down her arm and slides into hers. His touch still shoots electric trails all over her skin.

“Want to sit down, Swan?” A nod, and he’s tucking her down with him.

When Killian switches on the small outdated TV on the wooden table in front of them, Emma sighs in relief.

And when still no words echo between them, Emma feels his eyes burn the skin of her cheek.

New York again. A cold bench. The snow falling onto his hair. This pain, in her chest, as he utters her name. Milah.

(Pain is just pain.)

“What are you thinking about, Swan?”

She blinks, licks her lips. Breathes in.

Will not look at him.

Augusta airport this time. His back, his image printed in blood over her retinas, this dark shape she cannot forget, forever turned on her.

“The past.”

The pain.

Storybrooke’s town hall. Her weary eyes twitching back and forth from Neal towards the door. Begging Killian to appear. And he doesn’t. (Or he does, but he’s too late.)

“Listen, Emma,” and his fingers have found hers again, and they are soft, and she looks up to discover his eyes even gentler, and his lips spread in a tender smile, “The past is behind us and we cannot change it.”

“But there’s been so much pain…”

She sounds like she is twelve again, she can almost touch Ingrid’s wooden fence under her fingers, can almost feel the tingling fear that a splinter might get stuck in the tender skin, and she can almost smell the yellow irises, and it almost brings her to tears.

“I know. But we can do better now.”

She nods. Can they do better? What if all of this is just a chimera and they’ve both idealized their love and what if … What if none of this is real?

She should sleep. Her eyelids are heavy and her eyes burn.

But then his hand cups her cheek, and its warmth brings her back to reality, tethers her. Her own palm settles above his as she leans into his touch. Closes her eyes, for just one bit.

She is so tired. Morpheus is luring her into his arms.

“As long as I am alive--” Oh, but then he is talking, and his voice is velvet against her skin, and she opens her eyes to stare at him. She’s pretty sure he can hear the thump of her heart. “--you can live with the conviction, Swan, that I will always be by your side.” A pause. “Always.” Another silence, his words sinking into her skin, as his fingers trace butterflies along her neck. A smile. “I’ve always been in love with you. From the moment I met you.”

Oh. Her eyes widen. Thump, thump.

She is swallowed by a gigantic wave of confused feelings. She thinks an earthquake is shattering the windows and shaking the walls. She thinks a tear rolls down her cheek, but she is not crying.

And it’s not like she didn’t know, she knew, but, but also she didn’t, for so long, and this is all very confusing and unexpected but very much expected, and he keeps staring at her and she doesn’t know what to say, for fuck’s sake.

And the only answer she can come up with is her trembling hands caressing his cheeks and then slowly grabbing the lapel of his t-shirt, and then, finally -- the pressure of her lips against his. Tender, at first, and then furious, desperate, hungry.

She wants to tell him, I loved you when you walked away from me, the first time, and the times after that, as well. I loved you although you never looked back at me, and I couldn’t look forward. I loved you when you were avoiding me, and I loved you when I didn’t think I loved you anymore. But mostly, I loved you from the moment I met you.

Instead, she presses her mouth into his, fiercely, for all of those times she wishes she had been brave enough to kiss him and she didn’t.

And Emma forgives them both. Forgives their past mistakes and heartaches.

They will do better. (They want to, and that’s already half of the journey, isn’t it?)

A number. Nineteen. Emma’s nineteen tonight. He’s been for a while now. (He feels a hundred years old since Liam left. Feels like he’s been holding his breath for centuries. Only the pain doesn’t flatter.)

They’re on a rooftop. Emma’s pink dress floats in the wind, much like a pirate flag. Her smile, that night, is bright, vivid, infuriatingly confident as she glances down at his lips.

The waves crash against the sand, back and forth, back and forth.

Her body is warm against his chest. Both of his hands hold her waist.

Time stands still, as she stands up on her tip toes and kisses him.

It’s an explosion, then, in his chest. A mercurial bliss.

And this time, he catches her before the fall. He doesn’t let her go. This time, his grip is secure around her waist, his fingers firm around her hips as she stumbles forward and they chuckle together.

This time, she doesn’t forget their kiss.

No.

Instead, she stares deeply into his eyes and she says: “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, now.”

And he says: “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

And if everything is easy, it’s only because it is a dream.

A ray of sunshine tickles Killian’s eyelids. His face crinkles, he groans, opens one hesitant eye.

Bloody hell. What a dream. Or a nightmare, he cannot really tell.

There is a weight against his chest, bitterness at the back of his mouth.

He glances down. Emma. She fell asleep in his arms last night while he was slowly rocking her, and they forgot to close the shutters and now Killian will never fall back to sleep again.

His eyes still burn.

He gazes at her face buried in the hollow of his neck, blonde hair across his chest. He smiles.

A hospital room, eight months ago. A blinding, golden light. Her sleepy smile. “Oh, you’re awake?”

He would pinch himself if he had a hand to spare.

Those six months, without her, thinking she didn’t want him, were some of the bleakest of his life.

It was like losing a limb, only he lost two. And he had to keep on learning how to walk without an anchor, how to live without a hand and without hers to hold.

And then, David’s call, one morning.

“They broke up, Killian. Neal found your letter. I think you should do something about that, or I will personally come to murder you in your pitiful apartment, do you hear me?”

Emma snores lightly against his skin. He traces the shape of her jawline with gentle fingers.

He is terrified. Perhaps it is the only way to be, for now.

Perhaps it is good. It means they’re trying. They’re evolving, together, for the first time in ages.

A grunt, her small hand spread across her face, she’s starting to wake up, he can tell.

There is still a lot of sadness in his chest, for the boy who loved a girl and suffered deeply for it. For the boy who lost everything and still managed to lose more through the years, until there wasn’t anything left to lose.

Liam’s smile from his car window. A wave. And then void, nothing.

Killian clenches his jaw.

“Hey,” a small voice groans, “if you keep staring at me while I sleep, it’s going to get creepy.”

A grin.

“Sorry love, couldn’t sleep.”

Emma lifts her chin, green eyes shimmering in this golden morning light, and she tries a sleepy smile.

“Morning, Killian.”

“Morning, Emma.”

“Am I crushing you under my weight?”

“I think I’ll survive, love.”

She still hesitates to kiss him, he sees it in the small start of her head backwards, so he bends forward to kiss her.

It’s a sloppy morning kiss, but he wants all of them.

Last night, they absolutely did not take time to undress. Emma fell asleep like a rock, and he was too afraid he’d wake her up to try and remove his clothes.

But she seems very much awake as her legs curl around his hips, and it is very hard for Killian to ignore the way her dress climbs back up her thighs and gives away the beginning of her red panties.

He can feel his cheeks become hot and red, and suddenly Emma’s smirking at him.

“Like what you see?”

He swallows down.

“It’s quite alright, aye.”

A squeeze of her thighs around his torso, he is trapped, and his heart leaps.

“Alright?” she repeats. “That’s definitely a disappointing answer.”

As for Killian’s heart, it’s practically bursting out in his chest by now. He gulps.

He cannot say he hasn’t thought a lot about it, what it would feel like to go beyond a simple kiss with Emma. How her skin would taste under his tongue.

He may have started to think about it at around age fifteen, when he saw her come back from summer vacation all tan legs out, and he can still hear Liam’s mocking tone “If you open your mouth any wider, little brother, you’re going to swallow flies.”

The thoughts worsened after their kiss. There were some lonely, desperate moments as well during which he imagined tracing the shape of her body, much like his fingers flutter against the side of her leg right now.

His eyes don’t leave hers, scrutinizing her to know if he is allowed to go further.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, Emma,” he whispers.

The wicked smile she shoots him is a sufficient answer. “Oh don’t worry, I want to.”

And then her lips find his again and his fingers are gripping her thigh now, clutching her skin, leaving marks, climbing back up some more and feel the soft skin right under the fabric of her dress.

She moans against his mouth, and it’s a wonderful sound, and suddenly they are both wearing far too many clothes and they have to hurry or they’ll combust into flames.

Emma straddles him just as her nimble fingers pull her dress up and throw it over her head.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he mumbles and it’s very hard to look anywhere else but at her naked body.

But she’s already getting impatient with his t-shirt, and she groans. “Come on Killian, help me. Raise your arms up.”

“Didn’t think you’d become such a morning person, Swan.”

She laughs a bit as his t-shirt hits the floor in its turn in a muffled sound, and she does this thing where she stops to gaze into his eyes and he will die for a lack of oxygen.

He watches as she swallows, ogling him.

“Some things are worth waking up for.”

And then she’s melting into the skin of his neck as her fingers sift through his hair, and Killian ceases completely to think.

A month later -- Augusta Airport.

Emma clutches Ingrid’s yellow irises against her chest. Her hold is gentle but her lips form a firm line.

As she stares at the Arrivals Board in front of her, the beat of her heart is drumming in her ears, and she is pretty certain oxygen is having a very hard time reaching her lungs.

He’s only been gone a week, mumbles her inner voice, but Emma’s too happy to pay attention to her pride.

She glances up, and a breath of relief escapes Emma’s throat as the light next to Portsmouth changes color.

“He’s landed,” she whispers to herself, flowers still pressed to her chest.

She glances down, careful not to damage the beautiful bouquet Ingrid offered last night, over the dinner table.

“I know how much he loves them,” Ingrid smiled.

Another look at the clock. He should be here any time now.

Her heart skips a blissful beat.

A part of her still cannot believe this is real. That he is coming home, for good, that Emma found them a cute apartment near the beach and they’re going to get everything they’ve ever dreamed of.

“Are you sure you want to do this...I mean, we could wait, and I could go back to Ingrid’s for a while…”

A butterfly in the dark, a kiss in the night.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything…”

Gazing all around her, Emma spots the familiar large window in front of her. It still shows a blurry reflection of her body. Emma frowns. Well, that will never change. One hand reluctantly gives up on the flowers to comb her hair.

It is now mid September in Storybrooke, Maine, and Emma has to admit she’s missed him.

It wasn’t the kind of missing him she was far too familiar with only two months ago. It wasn’t a burning ache in her chest. It was just like losing your glasses and finding them again on your bed table, where you left them. It’s a kind of missing she knew to end. And it made a great difference.

As she remains very still, feet stuck to the ground, she remembers shaking, bouncing up and down on her feet, waiting for him to come back the first time, four years ago.

Nothing’s really changed. She is still Emma and he is still Killian. Except everything’s changed.

It feels like another lifetime. Emma smiles down at the flowers in her hands. A very peaceful sunflower blooms in her chest.

The crowd of people around her brings Emma back to the present. More people gather together, and Emma understands they are all just as eager to see their loved ones as she is.

And she waits, knowing her love is about to arrive.

Another few minutes go by, and time seems to slow down. She clenches her jaw. Unclenches it. Come on, relax, Emma.

And then… And then, there he is.

“Killian.” The blissful whisper escapes her throat as a brutal wave of bliss sweeps her off her feet. She doesn’t hold it back. It isn’t scary anymore.

She’s somehow thankful to notice he hasn’t changed one bit, but it’s only been a week, what was she expecting? A tender hue of blue meets her eyes and smiles in recognition.

“Emma, my love,” he mirrors her happy sigh.

Her heart beams as they walk towards each other, their pace sure and quick and knowing, and in a few steps he lets go of a thousand suitcases to pick her up from the ground.

“Careful, Killian, your flowers,” she complains even as her feet quit the floor.

And she tries to hold the bouquet away from his face, but he doesn’t seem to care and presses a long kiss to her mouth instead.

She sighs happily into his embrace, wraps her arms around his neck, and her senses are filled by him – his smell, a strong cologne she is only too familiar with, his skin under her fingers, his tousled black hair.

“I missed you,” he exhales against her cheek, and drops another kiss to her cheek.

She slowly backs away, smiling. “It’s only been a week…”

He raises an eyebrow that challenges her to lie some more. She chuckles, crinkles her nose, mumbles: “Okay, I might have missed you too…”

He sighs a dramatic sigh, rolls his eyes.

“Now, you nearly gave me a heart attack, Swan. I was this close from flying back to Portsmouth.”

Idiot, her inner voice snorts, unimpressed. But her heart isn’t very concerned, and a giggle jolts out of her throat. Even her cheeks give her away, flush furiously, and she hates them for it - come on, it’s been a month now.

Her hand lingers on his face, tracing the little scar on his cheek.

“Are you going to take those flowers, or should I keep them for myself?” She attacks in a coy, sharp tone.

He flutters his eyelashes. The fucker.

“If the lady insists.”

A roll of the eye, a bright smile, and Emma’s heart sighs -- defeated. And the flowers carefully slip into his hand.

He drops another kiss to her lips. “Thank you, love.”

“Of course, Killian.”

And then there is this very dramatic moment during which they both stare at his three enormous suitcases and wonder how the hell they are going to make this work.

“Damnit. Did you have to take your whole life with you?”

“Well, a blonde lass did ask me to move in with her.”

Her fist punches his shoulder, playfully. Another sigh echoes all through the airport’s hall.

“Well, let’s go, I guess.”

She��s quick to grab the bag he let go of to hold her and seizes two red suitcases. And he watches her, the fucker, flowers in the crook of his arm and the third suitcase secure his hand. He seems infinitely entertained.

“Don’t you dare laugh in my face, Killian Jones.”

“Well, if it weren’t for the flowers, I could maybe hel-”

“-- NO. You keep the damn flowers! For once Ingrid offered them.”

And as they are walking down the airport like old times, Emma knows they’ll do better. They already are doing better.

(Emma thinks pain is just pain, and they should have known sooner, they should have known better but she also thinks that doesn’t matter because surely there is no kind of pain that cannot be absolved by a lot of love.)

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

@yasbio2015 @bubblegum1425 @daenerysmyhsa @dancingnancyy @elizabeethan @farewell-courgette @beca0912 @stina-g @tenaciouskittynightmare @noensnaringnet @klynn-stormz @sekretny13 @tiganasummertree @vvbooklady1256 @brustudyblog @peggyyswan @thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @courtorderedcake @snowbellewells @kingofmyheart14 @teamhook @mariakov81 @folkloreismylullaby @officerrogers

(Might write some missing scenes, and add a few bonuses to this story, so if you’ve got anything in mind you’d like to read, hit me up ;) (actually hit me up for anything and let’s be friends.)

#cs fanfics #cs ff #captain swan #my stuff #amy writes #i need to find a new source of serotonin guys #my brain doesn't want to let this go #thank you all for your comments #and likes #and just for reading this story #it means the world to me #and i'm so glad i got to talk to some of you through this <3 #i hope you'll this #and now i'll shut up

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molloaf · 4 years ago

Text

Teach Me to be Brave Ch. 5

Read on AO3

The day whizzed by Manon in a blur of assignments and overheard excited chatter about Paris’ new dynamic duo. She moved from class to class without a thought, but the narrative of the students around her remained the same buzz of excitement and wonder. Before she knew it, the final bell was ringing, and it was time for her to take her leave and head home.

Emotionally, Manon was exhausted. Her body, of course, was largely unaffected by her gymnastic endeavors the night prior as a result of the magic in the suit. She found, however, that keeping up appearances and watching her every word very carefully to avoid any and all suspicion from her classmates was more weight than she was used to carrying on a daily basis.

“What’s for dinner tonight, then, Manon?” Remy elbowed Manon in the ribs to pull her from the mental fog she appeared to be lost in. The spunky brunette jolted and shook out her jumbled thoughts before turning to her best friend who was watching her pack up her things with a quirked eyebrow.

“Tonight’s menu features a Taleggio, Ham, and Cornichon baked croissant with a summer berry tossed salad accompaniment,” Manon declared in a fake fancy accent, putting on airs about her culinary creation-to-be. A strange, high-pitched, muffled whining noise was suddenly heard from the back corner of the room, and Manon turned to see Chris gripping something in the pocket of his black hoodie with all his might before he loudly coughed.

“What are you looking at, Chamack?” he bit, though the tips of his ears were tinging red with clear embarrassment. Manon rolled her eyes and turned back to her conversation without acknowledging the obnoxious boy.

“Chris, would you mind hanging back after class for a minute?” M. Agreste called out to him.

“Again?” Chris groaned. Manon couldn’t help herself, and she twisted around to stick her tongue out at him, hopeful that maybe their teacher had caught wind of his actions that day.

“God, my stomach is yowling. That’s either going to be really gross, or it’ll star in my hungry daydreams for weeks to come…” Remy grabbed the attention of his experimental chef bff again as he rubbed his stomach performatively.

“Who says you get any?” Manon scoffed, acting offended. Elise laughed her bright, sunshiney laugh as she hung off her boyfriend beside Manon.

“Your mom is lucky that she gets to try it! It’s definitely gonna be better than those bacon onion tempura lollipop abominations you brought for lunch yesterday.”

“When she bit into it, it brought a tear to my eye,” observed Remy. He dramatically brushed a finger across his bottom eyelid as if he were crying right then.

“Sometimes they’re hits, sometimes they’re misses! You still gotta take the shot,” Manon winked. All laughed as they slid their respective backpacks onto their shoulders and made to leave the room.

“Have a good evening, M. Agreste!” Manon called as they exited. Their spirited homeroom teacher looked up from his computer to smile warmly and wave to the trio.

“Goodnight, guys! Good luck on problem #6,” M. Agreste flashed a devilish grin at them, and Remy groaned in response. “Ready, Chris?”

The bully nodded reluctantly and headed for the front of the room as the teacher stood to close the door. Manon was silently disappointed that she didn’t get to hear the beginning of her rival being chewed out by an authority figure. She decided to try to watch his behavior tomorrow to see if he’d really given it to him.

The group of friends chatted casually on the stroll towards home, as they did every day after school. They all lived within the same neighborhood, so they were able to walk together most of the way before diverting onto their respective streets. Manon expounded on her recent trip to the produce market across town in search of the perfect, crisp cornichons she needed for her sandwiches. Elise updated the gang on her latest modern dance routine that she was cooking up for competition, flip-flopping on which moves were too complex for her to pull off in a fast-paced sequence like that. Remy filled them in on how his twin pet frogs were currently in a fight, refusing to occupy the same half of their tank at the same time. Manon suggested couples counseling.

“They’re not a couple, they’re brothers!” Remy shouted, his voice reverberating off the tall buildings surrounding the group of friends.

“That doesn’t always stop a relationship in the animal kingdom….” observed Elise.

“You are not allowed near Erlân and Ramón ever again.”

“Aw, come on! They love me!”

“Nuh uh. You’re a bad influence with those utterly impure frog thoughts you just aired.”

Manon rolled her eyes at her lovestruck besties as they bickered good-naturedly beside her. She loved them so, but thinking of that fact reminded her that, since last night, she was keeping a very large secret from them. Guilt quickly soured her mood.

“H-have a good night, guys. I’ll let you know how the croissants turn out! Maybe there will be enough leftovers for me to bring them for lunch tomorrow.” Manon tried to keep her voice even and cheerful as she turned rapidly down her street, breaking off from the group to hide her conflicted face.

“Oh, uh, bye, Manon!” Elise called at her rapidly retreating pal with a confused wave. She shrugged to Remy, and they continued walking and discussing frog technicalities.

“Are you feeling okay, Manon?” Tikki poked her little bulbous head out of Manon’s backpack to speak into her charge’s ear. A look of concern was plastered on her adorable face.

“Huh?” Manon startled, almost forgetting she had Tikki in there. “Sorry, Tikki. I just don’t like lying to people. It makes me feel… dirty.” The girl frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that you’re upset, Manon. It’s a tough job to be a superhero, and it’s a lot of responsibility to have foisted on you all in an instant. However, Ladybug chose you because she knew that you could overcome the obstacles and thrive.” The kwami patted Manon’s shoulder with her tiny paw.

“That’s right! Ladybug chose me.” Manon looked confused, struck by the thought. “How does she assume these things about me? Do I know Ladybug?”

Tikki shook her head dismissively, “I am not allowed to speak the name of my previous owners to those who don’t already know it. It’s a magical spell placed on the Miraculous to protect secret identities if a kwami is captured, so don’t even ask,” she chuckled. “And anyway, I think maybe you should just get inside and look in your physics book.”

“I promise I’ll get the homework done, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Manon replied, twisting her head to look at the little bug creature over her shoulder with a curious quirked brow. “Science is usually my worst subject, but M. Agreste is a good teacher.”

Tikki shrugged and nodded. As they came upon Manon’s building, the girl keyed her code into the pad next to the front door and took the elevator to her floor. Once inside her apartment, she flopped her bag down on the couch and set about getting her dinner ingredients out of the fridge.

Tikki watched her new Chosen as she worked, a look of determination and excitement on the teen’s face like a great artist struck with inspiration. Manon turned the TV on for background noise, pulled out a cutting board, and began slicing up deli meat, cheese, and tiny pickles while the oven preheated. The brunette danced gracefully about the kitchen, pulling armfuls of sauces and liquids from the refrigerator, several spice jars from a tall cabinet, bowls from the dishwasher. Tikki caught the sparkle in Manon’s eye as she made various concoctions from citrus juices, vinegars, creams, seasonings, and oils in little bowls.

Twenty minutes later, the sandwiches were in the oven, roasting the croissants to a golden brown while the cheese melted. Manon wiped sweat from her thick brows and took down her hair from the ponytail she had tied it back into, shaking it out to her shoulder blades with a sigh.

“Phew. I hope this one works!”

“You look so alive while cooking! Is this a hobby of yours?” Tikki questioned, hovering over to the tired girl.

“Yeah!” Manon perked up instantly at the mention of her special interest. “I’ve been cooking things by myself since I was little, because my mom was always gone at night working. Over the years, I think my tastes have strayed from the norm, though…” she trailed off with a light giggle, reminiscing about the strange dishes she had come up with just in the last month.

“I think you have great taste,” Tikki beamed, “and I can’t wait to try a tiny bite of that sandwich when it’s done.” The hungry kwami rubbed her hands together and licked her lips, looking at the oven.

Manon laughed and felt herself relax slightly. She had really come to love cooking. Someday, she thought maybe she could open a restaurant, or maybe a bistro, to showcase her unique recipes. That is, if enough people actually liked them. She made a mental note to pinch off a tidbit of her sandwich to slip to Tikki during dinner later without her mother noticing.

Right on cue, Manon heard her mother’s key unlock the apartment door as the oven timer was about to ring out. Quickly telling Tikki to hide, Manon slipped on an oven mitt and pulled the tray out of the hot oven just as Nadja entered.

“Hey, Mom!” greeted Manon.

“Hi, Sweetie. How was school?” The pixie-haired talk show host replied to her daughter.

“Ah, nothing to write home about.” Manon shrugged, deciding not to vent about Chris and his goons today. She wanted to keep her spirits up to enjoy dinner.

“No new drama with that boy today?” Nadja asked anyway, like she had read Manon’s mind and decided to pry.

“Ahhh,” chuckled the girl, “He gave some trouble to Odette, the girl who got akumatized last night? She’s in my class.” With her face turned away from her mother, Manon frowned briefly as she glossed over the detail that she had been targeted by them as well, and may have even made herself an enemy of the group with just a few sentences.

“That’s a shame. I hope she didn’t let him get in her head. He seems too stupid for her to trouble herself with.” Nadja shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. She had heard plenty of earfuls about Chris Lahiffe and his jerky jock pals over the years, ramping up now that he and her daughter were in high school. Nadja had even had some talks with various teachers and Principal Mendeliev regarding the rambunctious behavior, but the problems always returned in time.

“Exactly, Mama. Plus, M. Agreste held him after school when we were leaving. Here’s hoping he got expelled!” Manon’s optimism was a bit misplaced in vengeance, but Nadja decided to let the girl have her fantasy. “And he seemed kinda jealous when he heard me talking about these sandwiches,” Manon grinned with pride as she plated the croissants and poured homemade dressing on the salad she had crafted. Nadja lit up, hunger in her eyes.

“You’re too good to me, Manon.”

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The croissants were a success in Manon’s book. She may sometimes find out that not every idea was as delicious in execution as it sounded in her head, but lately she had been right more often than wrong. Even Tikki agreed, having eagerly gobbled up the bite Manon offered to her when Nadja’s back was turned during dinner.

After the dishes were cleared, Manon packed the remaining few croissants into a container and slid it into her lunch bag for the next day. It was time to start her homework, she realized with a groan. The teen slung her backpack over her shoulder and marched into her bedroom to begin.

Flicking on the light, Manon was greeted with the comfy, familiar sight of her room. Three of the walls were an ashen grey color, accented by the fourth wall which was almost neon teal. Leaning against the accent wall was her dresser, tall and white with several keepsakes and curios on top such as Ladybug merchandise and little Japanese keychains made to look like miniature foods. A bookshelf stood proudly next to her queen-size bed, full of fiction novels about girls who go on adventures and participation trophies from various sports Manon had played as a child, but never exactly excelled at.

Her desk was triangular in shape, placed in the corner with a large, plush rolling chair at it. The great window beside it gave her a view of the streets below and the buildings surrounding, as the apartment was on the 7th floor. Manon placed herself elegantly in the chair as she tossed her bookbag onto the ground beside her before slumping and groaning at the idea of homework once more. She flicked on her lamp, which was clipped to the bookshelf between the desk and her bed in order to provide light to both.

As Manon flipped open the heavy textbook to read her first homework question, a yellow piece of paper stuck to the page caught her eye. Lifting it to catch the light, Manon read the mysterious note curiously. It seemed to be an address, though Manon didn’t recognize it, and a time, 8 p.m. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the initials in the bottom right corner:

“-L.B.”

Her eyes snapped to the clock on her bookshelf instantly. 7:36, it read. Manon’s golden eyes blew wide as she glanced rapidly between the note and the clock, urging her brain to form thoughts. Once she managed to push through her shock, she flipped open her personal laptop on the desk and speedily hopped on a navigation website. The walk time to the address was almost half an hour.

Manon stood before she even finished thinking, twisting her long hair into a braid lightning fast, two strands of cowlicked hair hanging loosely over her forehead as they always did when her hair was pulled back. The frantic girl grabbed her backpack and tore through the apartment to the front door.

“Are you going out, Manon?” Nadja turned around from where she sat on the couch to look at her fleeing daughter.

“Oh! Mom! Ah, yeah! Remy is having…” her mind blanked briefly, “relationship issues? With his frogs! Not Elise. We’re gonna help him! But I gotta go right now so bye!” Manon blew a kiss to her confused mother as she tugged on a light jacket to face the brisk evening ahead, and then she was gone.

Tikki floated along behind Manon down the hallway of the large building as the girl decided the stairs would be faster than the elevator. The kwami looked sheepish.

“Oh, right. I did tell you to check your physics book, didn’t I? Sorry, I got a little distracted by the food.”

#teach me to be brave #mlb #miraculous ladybug #manon chamack #mlb future fic #post-s3 #mlb fanfic #chris lahiffe

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anabe23bookwormstuff · 5 years ago

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Naboo

*I’m really sorry if I get anything wrong but I hope you like it.

Spoilers from the rise of skywalker... kind of.

"I don't feel so comfortable about this" Rey said relaxing in her seat next to Ben on the ship.

"It's our destiny, your destiny, I promise I'll try to help you as much as I can with everything" Ben said reasuring, he was concentrated on piloting.

Rey wondered if there was no one else who wanted to rule, except for Ben of course, it wasn't that she didn't want the best for the galaxy but suddenly the responsability she felt as a jedi, the last one of two, intensified by having to answer to planets, to seek for their wellbeing, to reconstruct them.

"Don't be afraid. Breath" Ben took her hand to call her attention and offered a warm smile to her.

"I'm sorry" she sighed. As this new thing between them intensified, so their emotions, and Rey knew that if she felt conflicted that would only mirror inside Ben, she didn't want him to feel like that.

Slowly she felt calm, still some of her fears were there, buried deep, but there was more calm and light than before.

"Thank you" she whispered to him.

The trip to Naboo wasn't that long and when they landed a group of people gathered to greet them.

"Rey, Ben, thankyou for coming." The queens representative said.

"Thank you for having us" Ben said.

"Please, follow me, the queen is waiting for you"

The crowd said bye to them and handed them a few presents, little representative things from Naboo, invitations and money, like they needed it, still the detail was kind.

"Queen Zorya" Rey and Ben vowed.

The main room of the palace was huge, with tall ceilings and columns, there were many mirrors on the walls which reflected the sun in the sky and the green around them.

"Masters, it's a pleasure to have you in Naboo, I'll make sure you have the best attention and anything you need in hand" The queen stepped down her throne and walked to them.

Her red and yellow gown trailed behind her and she seemed to float.

"In your message you asked for an urgent meeting with us your majesty, so here we are" Ben said. Then queen looked at him as concealed as she could but Rey could notice it, and the faint blush on her cheecks.

"We're hoping to be useful" Rey added.

"Of course, and we will meet with my concelours and generals, but first won't you like to eat?"

"Of course your majesty"

They followed her and a couple of guards to another room of the palace, this one was more blue and a large table occupied most of it, with beautiful lights all around.

"I can see you like the decorations" the queen said to Rey.

"The palace is beautiful, well, Naboo in general... seems like a beautiful place" The queen laughed a little and smiled at her.

"Thank you, I can show you around later if you'd like"

They took seats and answered the many questions that Zorya had, because she had also requested that they called her that, and asked some others too. Rey knew Ben was filled with curiosity and was trying to handle himself as best he could, but their connection betrayed him.

To Zoyra he may look calm, open and relaxed, which he was for the most part, but Rey felt his anticipation and longing to know more about his family, so she decided to do soemthing and face the consequences later.

"Zorya, is there any place which we could learn more about... Naboo?"

"Sure, what would you like to know?" she asked after chewing.

Ben turned to look at her and raise his brows, a confused look that Rey mirrored, making the queen laugh.

"We... I-" Rey corrected herself when Ben coughed a little, " I'll just like to know more about it's history, their rulers, their traditions... and such" she tried not to shrugg.

Zorya smiled in complicity.

"If you want to know things in general then you can visit the palace's library, and if you" this time she looked at Ben, "would like to know more about Queen Amidala, then you can also find a book with some of her notes on the library" Ben blushed a little and vowed his head in embarrasement.

"Thank you"

"No problem"

When they were done eating and the queen showed them around the palace they finally had the meeting.

They wanted to know what to do with a big group of stormtroopers which had a camp neer Theed, and an old quarter of the first order which was now abandoned.

"The troopers must leave or integrate to your society, if you allow it, then leave their old charge' ben explained.

"Of course we couldn't make this kind of desicions without you" The queen said looking at both of them, under the table Ben took Rey's hand and once again transmitted her peace.

"We're going there tomorrow to solve this issue your majesty. We can also discuss what your terms are in case any of them would like to integrate to Naboo" Rey said and Ben couldn't help but feel proud. He knew Rey would be an amazing ruler.

"Very well, you may rest. My maids will show you your rooms and any time you want something you just ask. I'll be waiting for you tomorrow." She vowed to them and left.

"Please, follow us" Ben and Rey followed the maids though a long hallway with many windows which allowed the now weaker light from the sun to come in and notice the lakes far away. Rey took a deep breath, Naboo was really a beautiful place.

Their rooms were not that far from eachother, and after they changed their clothes for more comfortable ones they decided to go to the library.

"I've found it" Ben said through their bond, Rey turned to look at him, she was folding her clothes at the edge of her bed.

"How did you get there so fast?"

"I just can't wait" he shrugged and bit his lip. Rey snickered.

"It is..." Rey closed her eyes and tried to imagine the path Ben followed, like his energy had traced a map for her and all she had to do was follow.

"Upstairs... the second room to the... left?" she opened just one eye to peak at Ben's reaction.

"You almost had it, one room to the right" he sat down somewhere.

"Ugh. Okay, I'm coming" With that he dissapeared and she was in her room again.

This trick, of trying to map eachothers moves was something they started trying after they felt better, they though that if they could master it then maybe it will be useful, if they ever got apart, or in a fight... in case there was one, plus it was fun.

"Have you found anything yet?" Rey asked coming behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders, she rubbed his arms a little in a familiar way.

"I think this is the book with the notes that Zorya mentioned... but I can't find the notes"

"Let me help" Rey opened the place beside him and leaned more to his side so she could take the book.

As she did she noticed that Ben was only looking at her.

"What?" she asked a little shy.

"Nothing. I just like how you concentrate" he ran a hand through his hair and then used his powers to pull another book from the shelves.

They were comfortable with eachother as they searched for the notes and learned a little more about the history of Naboo.

"You think they did?" Rey asked excitedly.

"They must. There are only two initials written down here, but I know they got married in secret so... it must be them" Ben said.

With the help of the notes and some book that kept record of people's marriages they thought they'd found when and where did Anakin Skywalker, Ben's grandfather, and queen Amidala got married.

"He must've loved her a lot" Rey said with a sad smile.

Ben didn't say anything but kept looking thorugh the books, but Rey could feel him.

"It is suposedly forbidden for the Jedi's to get married, and he did it anyway... it's kind of romantic" she added.

"In the end I guess things didn't go as my granfather expected" he sighed.

The moon was up in the sky now and they wanted to visit the lake country tomorrow, after they solved the issues with the troopers, so they went to bed.

"Goodnight" Ben said as they stood in front of Rey's bedroom.

"Night"

He was walking away when Rey called out for him again.

"Yeah?" she wasn't sure what to do know, she just knew she wanted... something from him.

He snickered a little and went to kiss her cheeck, then said goodbye again.

With that they both retreaed to their rooms and had a goodnight sleep.

"I'm just glad that we could solve that easy" Rey said as Ben drove through the lake on the way to the lake country.

"And we are going to be able to solve everything else" he reasured her.

It was still early when they got to the lake retreat, which used to be a place to rest for queen Amidala, and very important people too.

Luckily the house/palace was empty now, except for the caretakers who let them in.

They explored it for a bit and Ben had the feeling that definitely his family must have been there at some point.

They got separated and later Rey found him on a big balcony, it had big columns and a floor that reflected the sky, beautiful flowers on tall pots and an incredible view.

He stood with his legs parted a little and his hands clasped behind his back. Rey felt a weird pull of energy, someone else, other time... but she kept walking.

"I wouldn't mind living here" she said.

"The view is pretty great too" he said, he took his hand and guided her to the edge of the balcony so they rested against it.

"Apparently many people come here to get married" he commented.

She gave him a questioning side glance.

"hmmm"'

"I think they got married here" he said, turning his body a little more facing hers and noticing that they were know helding both hands between them.

Like the first time they touched hands when Rey was staying with Luke and Ben opened up to her, their touch send chills through their spines, their breath quickened and they found eachothers eyes.

Rey wanted to say something... but she couldn't. She could tell the smae had happened to Ben, so they just intertwined their fingers and held their hands tighter.

"There is a very special bond holding you two together" someone said interrupting them.

They let of one hand and faced the person.

"A dyad... so weird. You're lucky" it was an old man who came close to them.

"How do you know that?" Rey asked.

"Reading and meditating" the man said tapping his forehead with a finger.

"And what do you know about it?" Ben asked.

"May I touch your hands?" he answered instead.

None of them actually said yes but the man did it anyways.

He closed his eyes and hummed in agreement.

"Your life... is his life, your force... is her force" the man gesture towards Rey's heart to Ben's and back.

"There can't be one of you without the other, a same force, with two sides and one life in two bodies. It's amazing" he smiled kindly and let their hands go.

"Does that mean..."

"Well it's just that you're linked, as long as you live, she lives and the other way arround"

The man left them to rpocess this information, they already knew that... in some level they were connected, in their minds and souls but... they didn't imagine that their lives were that linked.

"I guess... since I gave you my force and you gave me yours... it makes sense" Rey said.

"You don't look that excited to have me hanging around for such a long time" he teased.

"And you're alerady predicting it's a long time" she nodded.

"I hope you get to live forever... and do all that you want" he rubber her palm with his thumb.

She smiled and pulled him to her, they stumbled a little against the railing but Ben stabilized himself with one hand and wrapped the other around Rey's waist as they kissed.

They hated that they had to go back and finish discussing thing with Zorya, but they've found peace in that place and a warm smile couldn't leave their faces.

Back at the palace Ben decided that he would convince Rey to stay with him at the lake retreat for a few days before they went back to the resistance/ restoring group.

They didn't knew but Naboo still had a couple of things to teach the young pair, mistakes that ghosts from their pasts didn't want them to make and lessons learned a long time ago.

#trosw #fanfic #reylo #star wars #ben solo #rey x ben #kylo ren

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gaamagirl565 · 5 years ago

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Matters of the heart Ep 3

WARNING: FOR BLOOD AND VERY MILD LANGUAGE Matters Of The Heart Episode 3: Festival Follies {OPENING CREDITS} {the sun rises over old corona; cut to Varian peacefully asleep in bed. The bed shakes a bit and we see Varian smirk a bit. 6-year-old Isaiah comes into frame and climbs on Varian} Varian: *chuckles* augh! Isaiah...can I help you? Isaiah: It’s harvest day daddy! We gots ta help grandpa! Come on! Up! *pulls on his bangs* Varian: augh! Okay okay! Easy on the hair buddy! {he playfully grabs Isaiah and they get up and it cuts to Varian making breakfast and serving it} Isaiah: *sees Ruddiger on the table* Ruddy! Ruddiger: *chitters happily* Isaiah: *plays with him* Varian: boys come on now...settle down. Isaiah: yes daddy…*sit and eats the eggs he’s given* {cut to Varian and Quirin out in the field; they’re talking about how to expand their crops} Isaiah: *runs over* DADDY! Daddy! Look what I found! *holds up snake* Varian: AAAHH! ISAIAH PUT IT DOWN!!! Quirin: only your kid would go near a poisonous puff adder… {Cut to Varian doing alchemy and mixing herbs} Varian: this should cure miss Balman’s gout. {he adds a drop of a chemical and it blows up in his face} Isaiah: Thar’ she blows! Varian: *hacks and coughs* and that’s why I have the goggles! {Cut to autumn with Varian Helping Quirin by the barn and Isaiah playing in the straw} Quirin: *looks up* VARIAN!

Varian: huh? *looks and sees Isaiah on top of the barn roof* AHHHHHH!!!! ISAIAH! STAY.RIGHT.THERE!

{Isaiah gets closer to the ledge giggling}

Varian: ISAIAH!

Quirin: *drops shovel* ISAIAH!!

{Isaiah falls off the roof into a hay bale}

Varian & Quirin: *run over in a panic*

Isaiah: *giggling* daddy I almost flew!

Varian: *looking him over realizing he’s not hurt before embracing him* oh thank god… my boy….

Quirin: …..100% your son. 100% {cut to winter} Isaiah: *playing out in the snow* Varian: Son, come here for a second! Isaiah: *runs over* yeah daddy? Varian: *gives him a wooden sword* happy birthday… Isaiah: WHOA! Just like the real guards! I declare myself the protector of old corona! {snow falls on him} Isaiah: I’m okay! {cut to night time; Isaiah being tucked into bed} Isaiah: goodnight daddy! Varian: goodnight buddy… *blows out candle and he kisses his head* {sun rises and the camera pans from the window over to the bed where Isaiah now 12 years old is sleeping. the rooster crows, and Isaiah wakes up} Isaiah: hmm? Yes! {cut to Isaiah peering around the corner and sees the front door to the lab} Isaiah: *smirks and starts sneaking to go out* Varian: Oh no you don’t! {Varian picks him up} Isaiah: Auughh! Dad! Varian: And where are you off to so early may I ask? Isaiah: to the orchard! Augh! No noogies! Varian: The orchard? Isaiah no one is there at this hour. Isaiah: Exactly! Perfect time for me to practice! Varian: okay okay...just be careful. Your grandfather and I will be in the south fields if you need us. No running with your arrows, and Take Ruddiger with you! Isaiah: whhhyy!? Varian: I don’t like the idea of you being completely alone. Old Corona may be nice but it can be dangerous when it wants to be. Isaiah: yeah okay...come on Ruddy… Varian: Don’t forget your bow! {Isaiah grabs his bow and arrows and runs out the front door and down the road running past Quirin} Isaiah: Hi grandpa! Bye grandpa! Quirin: huh-wha? Haha. Morinin’ Isaiah! {Isaiah runs to the orchard with ruddiger and over to a tree with various arrows lodged in it} Isaiah: *deep breath and looks up at big shiny red apple* Ruddiger: *chitters happily* Isaiah: oh no you don’t! That one is mine! Ruddiger: *angry face* Isaiah: oh get over it...here we go... {he sets his arrow and aims at the apple; he fires and nails it perfectly} Isaiah:....I did it...I DID IT! Ruddy did you see that!? Ruddiger: *shocked face and chitters angrily* Isaiah: It’s just an apple Ruddiger! {Nathaniel walks into frame with two other kids} Nathaniel: nice shot, loser… Isaiah: oh no...hello Nathaniel… Nathaniel: practicing archery are we? Pfftt...why bother? No Captain in his right mind would accept you into their ranks. Isaiah: you act as if they’d accept you. Nathaniel: they probably would! Considering my father isn’t a traitor. Ruddiger: Hiss! Isaiah: *gets closer* You dare insult my father in front of my face? Nathaniel: why not? It’s not as if you’re any better! My father says his traitorous blood runs in your veins and one day you’ll prove to be just like him! Isaiah: hold your tongue, Nathaniel! Nathaniel: haha! Striking a nerve? Your father is nothing but a pathetic knave! I seriously wonder what kind of Fusty lug it takes to love a traitor. You’d have to be an idiot! Guess that explains your mum! {Isaiah yells in rage and he tackles Nathaniel; The two throw punches and tussle in the dirt} Isaiah: *punches him* You filthy muck spout! Nathaniel: Only telling the truth ol’boy! Ruddiger: *jumps on the boy and claws at him* Nathaniel: AUGH! get him off me! *kicks ruddiger off* Isaiah: Ruddiger! *runs over and picks him up* Nathaniel: bloody beast bit my foot! You’re lucky this time Isaiah! But one day your rat won’t be around to save you!... let’s go guys… {Ruddiger chitters sadly and nuzzles into Isaiah} Isaiah: *angrily tears up and hugs ruddiger* Varian: maybe you should move the crop to the north...

Quirin: good ide-Isaiah!?

Varian: Isaiah! *runs over* what happened!?

Isaiah: nothing...I’m fine...

Varian: Isaiah those bruises didn’t come from thin air...

Isaiah:....You wanna know what happened!? I HATE NATHANIEL!

Quirin: Joseph’s boy? He did this?

Varian: Isaiah it’s gonna be okay I promise...he’s just a bully...why not go w- {a goo bomb goes off on a rat}

Varian: not again! I hate rats...anyway why not go wash up for dinner...I’ll make some stew ok? Besides, tomorrow is the sunflower festival! We’re gonna have lots of fun tomorrow! Forget about those jerks!

Isaiah: *staring at the goo bombs* Yeah..okay...

Varian: that’s my boy...

(Isaiah gets an idea. Cut to Varian in his lab, working on what appears to be fireworks for his contribution to the festival. Isaiah enters the lab)

Isaiah: Say uh, dad?

Varian: *distracted* wha-huh-yeah buddy?

Isaiah: I was wondering....if perhaps....ok, so you know how, Queen Punzie always says, live your dream, right?

Varian: *clearly not listening* uh-huh, yeah, puzzles are mean, they’re the worst-

Isaiah: That being said, I’ve come to... an aspiration of sorts.... *dramatically* father, i yearn to be your spitting image. *more seriously* I want to learn to do what you do.

Varian: *now interested* wha-?

Isaiah: *mutters to himself quietly* and I got his attention, good one Isaiah. I want you to teach me how to do alchemy.

(Varian sits there staring at him. Isaiah appears confused)

Isaiah:*chuckles nervously* un-unless that falls under the no-no category, because if that’s the case then NEVERMIND.

Varian: *gets up from chair. He walks towards Isaiah, SLOWLY*

Isaiah: *gets nervous and backs away slowly* y-you know what?? A joke! I’m joking! That was a joke on my part, sorry! *chuckles nervously* just a—Oh!

Varian: .......you want me to teach you how to be an alchemist?

Isaiah: ........yes?

Varian: *begins to tear up extremely, with joy*

Isaiah: uhhhhh—-

(Varian’s face is GLOWING with silent tearful joy)

Isaiah: ......is that a ye-

Varian: YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES

Isaiah: GREAT! Can we start right now, perhaps?

(Que montage with spunky background orchestration of Varian and Isaiah gearing up with STYLE. We end the montage on a shot of them standing out in the alleys. Varian’s doing a superhero stance. Isaiah notices and sloppily attempts to follow suit. Varian is wearing the SAME outfit that he wore when he met Estelle; his adventure attire from the old days: teal alchemist coat and golden goggles. Isaiah.....Isaiah has on a neon hoodie with a scarf and bubbled up hair dyed black with a blonde streak....)

Varian: *glances at Isaiah*......wha-what are....what is this???

Isaiah: oh i just thought I’d pay homage to younger you! Black hair with a streak!

Varian: that looks nothing like me.

Isaiah: oh? What, too punky?

Varian: very.

*both glance at the screen in self-awareness*

Isaiah: fine I’ll go change—(walks away to the left offscreen. Varian is left confused)

{cut to them standing outside}

(Musical number of Varian teaching Isaiah alchemy. “Legacy”} {VARIAN} Don’t look so nervous you’ll be alright

Keep your legs apart and stand upright It’s time you know how I became who I am You’ll be the jealousy of every man It’s time to lead your legacy Feel the energy inside your veins

With each new chemical reckoning A spark so bright it’s like a glowing star Even if hard the answer is never far Don’t you worry it’ll be just fine

Don’t forget you have me right by your side Keep this memory you’ll find your destiny As It’s time to lead your legacy

Varian: WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

(They both parkour across the kingdom above the streets. They look SO happy together . They soar into the moonrise)

(Cut to a bit later: they’re heading on home)

Varian: *out of breath* OH MY, *hyper breathing* THAT-TH-THAT WAS—*heavy breathing*—I-*stammers* I CANT FIND THE WORDS—

Isaiah:—spellbinding.

Varian: *appears shocked with surprise. He then proceeds to kiss Isaiah on the cheek.*

Isaiah:—*annoyed* ughh, dad.

Varian: Ok! GAAHHHHH THIS IS GREAT! Now, we can *stutters* we can go on adventures TOGETHER! Giving one-twos to all those crooks out there! *laughs excitedly* I haven’t felt this starry-eyed in YEARS, not since.....*detracts. He digresses* Ahhh, alrighty, how about we have a nice meeting with the man on the moon? (He means sleep) Pun intended!

(he stands by the door opening it for Isaiah, with a cheeky smile on his face, expecting a high five or something. Isaiah just walks in and goes to bed. Varian meets this response with simple bliss. He’s just too happy. they all go to bed. Isaiah lies in bed, with a determined game-face. He knows what he’s gonna do now. He glances at the table of alchemical substances, and has this, determined, yet dark look on his face)

Isaiah: Just you wait, Nathaniel. You’re in for high-water. (He goes to bed)

{cut to outside and night turns to day; cut to Isaiah in the wagon with his father.} (We open on Varian and Isaiah arriving to the festival in a carriage)

Varian: *laughs excitably* oh my gosh I’m soo excited, I actually cant contain my-GAHHHHHHHHH SO EXCITED! *viciously turns to Isaiah* JUST LOOK AT ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME YOURE NOT EXCITED????

(Varian awkwardly stares at Isaiah. He’s basically ONTOP of Isaiah here . They’re legit FACE TO FACE. Isaiah nervously responds—)

Isaiah: *laughs nervously* yes! Yes-yes, yes, Uh—OHH! Gosh I spent this whole time excited over our lessons-

Varian: -which aren’t finished.

Isaiah:-which aren’t finished, but yeah, anyway, I forgot to ask-what IS your contribution to the Sun and Moon Festival?

Varian: ohhh buddyy just you wait IM IN CHARGE OF THE LIGHT SHOW OF THE COSMOS!!!!!

Isaiah: Uh-huh....

Varian: *annoyed* fireworks.

Isaiah:)-FI-FIREWORKS YES!!! OF COURSE.

Varian: riiiight. you look like you just saw death.

Isaiah: PPFFFFT.

Varian: you’re more blue than my hair.

Isaiah: N O. (Scoffs) I just....yesterday was really...really cool.

Varian: oh heh...yeahhhh....it was, I won’t ever forget it.

Isaiah: mmm..

Varian: I feel 18 again.

Isaiah: well you DO look younger than ME-

Varian: PFFT YOU LITTLE COMET, YOU! *Tackles Isaiah*

Isaiah: *laughs* OK! Ok,ok!.......dad what do you do when someone just...does something to you, something awful, and you wanna just....WIPE THEM OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH FROM EMBARRASSMENT?

Varian: .....can’t relate.

Isaiah: Really? Haven’t you ever felt like just.....CRUSHING them under your fist? Do you think they deserve it?

(Varian appears feeling somewhat ...called out by this. His face seems guilt-ridden.

)

Varian: uhhh—*nervous chuckle*....this—hypothetical guy seems like someone actually deserving of it—haha...On that part I can’t relate...Ehhh-haha, but of course you gotta forgive them! Forgive them even BEFORE they apologize. You gotta come to terms. Or else you’ll.........you’ll explode *looks at Isaiah*...

Isaiah: ........dad—

{They have arrived}

Varian: Oh-OH! W-We’re here! Haha! Ok, um—-I almost forgot. *turns to Isaiah, who is yet to get down from the carriage* Isaiah, son—operate the light show with me. A Star-studded act! All we need to do is get you in the designated outfit for the act and—

Isaiah: but dad—

Varian: OHHHH! You’re right! Let’s inform the king of the last minute additions! *to Eugene* YOUR MAJESTY! SIR!

(Varian is about to head out to Eugene, but not before he looks back at Isaiah. They share one last glance—-with a contrasting emotion on the other’s face. Varian? Pride and excitement. Isaiah? Guilt and inner turmoil)

Isaiah: Dad…

Varian: I’ll see you later buddy...

(Varian leaves. He goes off into the festival crowds to go meet with Eugene. Isaiah feels bad for a minute, but then he pauses and thinks)

Isaiah: (glancing at his alchemy bag)....You’re doing this for mom. For dad. I’ll avenge both of you. *determined face*

(Isaiah then goes off to find Nathaniel. He goes through the heavy crowds, squeezing his way through the many people. There’s nothing but a determined look on his face. Isaiah then suddenly gets pushed over by an adult and trips and falls onto the ground, back-to-the-ground, facing up. He looks up to see Nathaniel, who is looking down on him. LITERALLY)

Nathaniel: well well, actually decided to show your ugly mug around here huh? Isaiah: yeah...we have a score to settle… Nathaniel: oh really? I see you didn’t bring the rat… Isaiah: Ruddiger is a raccoon...the only rat I see is you... Nathaniel: you bloody cur...you dare speak to me like that!? Isaiah: people who speak ill of my parents don’t deserve respect… Nathaniel: oh really? Isaiah: The only thing you deserve….*takes out goo bomb*...IS HUMILIATION! {Nathaniel gasps as he throws the goo bomb; a large explosion happens and it cuts to Varian and Eugene as screaming is heard} Eugene: What on earth was that!?

Varian: WHAT HAPPE-

Eugene: I THINK A FIREWORK MUSTVE—I DONT KNOW—

Rapunzel: (arrives) WHERES LILY!?

{Varian walks ahead of the two—who are both talking, inaudibly. Varian recognizes a chemical in the atmosphere of the blast....it’s one of his own alchemical formulas. There is no other possible cause...it was Isaiah. It couldn't POSSIBLY not be him. Varian then realizes....HIS SON USED ALCHEMY ON PEOPLE. Varian almost comes close to crying.). He realizes......his son used him).

Rapunzel: LILY?!! LILY!!! Lily: MOTHER! *runs into Rapunzel’s arms*

{a few guards run past Varian and Eugene into the marketplace} Varian: *runs past destroyed kiosks and frightened people* ISAIAH!?...ISAIAH WHERE-....... {Isaiah lays unconscious in the middle of the road in a puddle of blood and not far is Nathaniel gripping his arms in pain} Varian:...no...no! *runs over and picks him up and gags at his maimed face* Isaiah!? Can you hear me? *tears up* Isaiah!...please...open your eyes, buddy...Isaiah...My baby…*sob*...please don’t do this to me...not him too... Isaiah: *groans* Varian: ISAIAH!? Eugene: *runs over in shock*...GUARDS GET A MEDIC! Pete: *runs* MEDIC! MEDIC!!! Varian:...isaiah…. Eugene: *tears some of his clothes and placing it on Isaiah’s eye* Isaiah: Augh! Varian: I-I know buddy! But we need to stop the bleeding! Eugene: it’s not enough...he needs proper bandages...WHERE'S THAT MEDIC!?

{Isaiah whimpers and grips onto his father}

Varian: It’s okay Isaiah! Daddy’s here…*brushes hair from his face* {Medic runs over and checks both boys} Medic: dear lord ...these boys need immediate medical attention. Get the surgeon! Varian: SURGEON!? {The medic picks Isaiah up} Medic: I’m sorry sir. We’ll tell the king where you can find him! *runs off with Isaiah* Varian:....Isaiah... {cut to throne room} Eugene: *pacing the floor* Rapunzel: Eugene please calm down you’re scaring Lily… Eugene: *looks over at his daughter* sorry sunshine...daddy’s just upset is all… {Varian Bursts into the throne room and runs over to them} Advisor: A-ah! Varian of Old Corona! Eugene: Varian!? {Varian bows down on his knees} Varian: Your majesties! Please accept my humblest apologies for what happened! My son knows not what he does! Please forgive- Eugene: Varian!...calm down...first things first is he alright? Varian: *looks up and rises*...he’s badly injured...the entire left half of his face is burned...charred really... Rapunzel: how did this happen? Varian: I’ve examined the explosion aftermath...he wanted to learn alchemy s-so I taught him...I had no idea of his true intentions...he seemed to have tried to make one of my goo bombs but...he made it explosive by accident..Your majesties I would never have allowed- Rapunzel: Varian...calm yourself...what happened is bad, I'm not going to lie. But no one else was seriously hurt. Punishment will be given in due time but first we need to wait for wounds to heal and We need to keep our sanity. Marketplaces can be rebuilt... Varian: Rapunzel? Rapunzel: Varian... I remember a boy who made terrible mistakes because he was angry...don’t be too hard on him Varian. He needs you now more than ever. {Varian looks at her with wide eyes; Rapunzel hugs him} Varian: *hugs her and cries* {cut to his house late at night; Isaiah lays in his bed heavily breathing with bandages covering the left side of his face} Varian: *sitting by Isaiah’s bedside dabbing his head with a cloth* Isaiah: *coughs and groans* Varian:.....what were you thinking…why would you-...*pinches bridge of nose* Isaiah: *coughing fit then whimpers* Varian: shhh...I’m here!...it’s okay buddy i’m here...Close your eyes and dream of fireflies

as they light up the sky.

Let me sing you this lullaby

as your dreams come alive.

T-There is no room for...Fear…*sniffles* {Varian looks out the window and groans at the sight of a mob approaching his door* Joseph: OPEN UP TRAITOR! WE HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YA! Crowd: YEAH! Varian: *sighs* daddy will be right back… {he walks to the front door and opens it} Varian:....Joseph...how can I be of service? Joseph: That little runt almost killed my son! Have you seen Nathaniel’s arms!? They’re burnt to a crisp! That child is insane! if the crown won’t punish him, we will! Varian: And what would you do? I realize what Isaiah did was wrong, I realize he could’ve God forbid killed someone but he didn’t and wouldn’t you say he’s been punished enough!? Quirin: Varian is right Joseph, what would punishing him even accomplish at this point? Joseph: Are you kidding me, Quirin!? what? are you letting him off the hook because he’s your son!? do you not remember the things he did as well!?

Varian: Don’t talk to my father and your leader that way! Joseph: Why don’t you shut your bloody gob Traitor!? figures your runt would take after you. How a grand lovely Duchess such as Estelle agreed to give birth to that pathetic whelp is beyond me…perhaps she was just as mad. {Varian lunges at him only to be held back by Quirin} Quirin: Varian! calm yourself son! Varian: You take that back! You muck spout! I’ll end you! Joseph: you’re still just as insane as when we were kids, alchemist! Quirin: Joseph! ...That was out of line Joseph. we do not speak ill of the dead and may I remind you Isaiah is still my grandson.:. Joseph: tsk...As you wish Quirin…come, everyone…let us leave the rabble. Physician: You had best hope he doesn’t get an infection…for I will not be the one to heal him. {they all begin to walk away. Leaving Varian and Quirin alone} Quirin: Varian? son...Are you okay? {Varian screams and punches a wall} Quirin: Varian! Varian stop! *grabs his arm* {Varian shakes and looks up at him sobbing} Quirin: oh my son… *hugs him* Varian: *sobs* {END CREDITS}

#tangled #TTS #RTA #MotH #Isaiah #Varian #tts varian #Rapunzel #rapunzel’s tangled adventure #Eugene #Eugene Fitzherbert #Quirin

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takemetoanotherworld · 4 years ago

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I don’t want to be alone. pt5.

The boys were currently halfway through their 3rd movie, Avengers End Game, and it was nearing 1 am. Sometime during that movie, Harry had nodded off. The boys realized his commentary was fading, and theirs was taking over. Louis looked down, finally, realizing that the boy was fast asleep on his shoulder.

“Oh, Hazza...” Louis coos, kissing the boy’s hair.

“Lou, got anything to tell us?” Liam laughs, turning toward Louis quickly.

Niall coughs sarcastically, watching Louis’ eyes light up. Louis laughs silently, not wanting to wake Harry up.

“Give me a moment, would you help me make him a bit more comfortable?” Louis pouts, noticing how Harry’s posture must be uncomfortable.

Liam stands up, pausing the movie. Louis keeps Harry’s head on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. Liam pulls Harry’s legs to the side, so Louis is, essentially, cradling the curly boy. Louis settles Harry’s other hand in the latters lap, his left hand holding on to the front of Louis’ jumper. Harry sighs in content, snuggling closer to Louis.

“I’m really falling for him...” Louis whispers, looking at Liam.

“We know. You’re terrible at keeping things secret.” Niall laughs, being shushed by a protective Lou.

“Getting jealous of me? C’mon, Lou. Can’t be more obvious.” Liam adds, shaking his head adoringly at the sight of Louis and Harry.

“I’m sorry, alright? I just, god... look at him! He’s everything I want.” Lou coos, nudging his nose into Harry’s curls.

“Are you going to tell him?” Liam asks, puppy eyes in full effect.

“I-I don’t know yet. I like this,” He says quietly, motioning to Harry. “I like being able to hold him. I liked seeing him at the game.”

“Lou, can I say something?” Niall asks, proceeding when Louis nodded. “Harry really likes you. Don’t tell him I told you, but I just want you guys to be happy.”

Louis smiles widely, holding Harry a bit closer.

“Then maybe I’ll just continue with this. More affection? Hanging out more outside of school and stuff.” Louis mumbles.

They all continue to talk, eventually un-pausing the movie and continuing to watch.

The credits started rolling, the time now 2:30 am, when Harry started to stir. Louis kisses his forehead as he starts to open his eyes.

“Hey, Hazza. Good nap?” Louis whispers, peppering kisses to the younger boy’s head.

Harry nods sleepily, wiping at his eyes. Louis feels his heart pick up, all he wants to do is hold this boy forever.

“Hi you guys, sorry that I fell asleep.” Harry giggles, sitting up.

He looks down and notices he is settled in Louis’ lap. Harry immediately blushes, looking around and getting off of Louis. Louis furrows his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side.

“That’s okay. Do you guys want to sleep now?” Niall asks, glancing at the boys.

“I’m still buzzing from the game.” Louis admits, missing the heat of Harry.

“Me too, honestly.” Liam laughs. “Ni?”

“I’m awake, I usually don’t sleep much anyway. Haz?” Niall asks, getting comfy on the couch.

“I just napped so I feel okay...” Harry says, still not fully awake.

“Okay, I think we need energy drinks now!” Niall yells, standing up and scurrying to the kitchen.

He comes back, holding 4 monster energy. The boys all take sips, while Niall starts up the Xbox. Liam grabs the 2nd controller, and Louis and Harry just sit back.

“Haz?” Louis chips, reaching out to Harry.

“I don’t know, Lou. Didn’t I make your arms fall asleep?” Harry pouts, feeling a tad bit insecure for whatever reason.

“Nope, c’mere love.” Lou says, arms waiting for Harry.

Harry scoots over, letting Louis put his arm around his shoulders.

“Why you acting so shy all of the sudden, babe?” Louis coos, looking down at Harry.

Harry blushes, shaking his head.

“I know what you’re thinking. I feel the same, too. We don’t have to do anything yet, my love.” Louis whispers to Harry, kissing Harry’s cheek.

Harry tears up, his lip wobbling.

“Oh, Haz. No tears, what’s got you cryin’?” Louis asks, laying his hand on Harry’s face.

Louis catches a few tears on the pad of his thumb, pulling Harry in closer. Harry sniffles, straddling Louis’ lap. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, while Harry latches to Louis’ shoulders.

“We’ll be back in a minute, lads. Just need to have a chat.” Louis announces, the 2 boys playing Fifa only grunting in response, not paying any attention to the others.

Louis carries Harry into the guest room, sitting down on the bed in the corner of the room. Louis shushes the sniffling boy, murmuring to him softly. Louis presses kisses to Harry’s neck, rubbing his lower back.

“Please don’t leave, Lou.” Harry finally speaks up, burrowing into Louis’ neck.

“Hazza, why would I? You’re all I want.” Louis admits, kissing Harry’s cheek again.

“Because I’m me, everyone leaves me. I don’t want to be alone again.” Harry whimpers.

“Look at me, Haz.” Louis whispers, holding onto Harry’s chin. “I’m not going anywhere. Liam and Niall won’t, either. I promise things are different now.”

Harry nods, biting his bottom lip to stop it’s quivering.

“Do you believe me?” Louis asks, staring at him.

“Yes.” Harry mumbles, burrowing into Louis again.

Louis wraps his arms around Harry, pressing his lips to Harry’s head.

“I’ve got you.” Louis whispers, standing up with Harry in his arms.

They walk back out to the living room, Liam looking up briefly and laughing slightly, gaining Niall’s attention. Niall cheers quietly, going back to Fifa.

“Can I hug you guys?” Harry mumbles, standing over Liam.

Liam nods, getting up and hugging Harry. Niall follows, ruffling his curls.

“Alright, give me my curly back.” Louis jokes, grabbing at Harry’s waist.

Harry lays his head in Louis’ lap, grabbing at Louis’ left arm. He trails his hand down, intertwining their fingers.

“Cutie.” Louis coos, running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

Harry giggles, playing with Louis’ fingers. The boys play Fifa for a few hours.

“Guys... I’m tired...” Harry whines, looking at his phone.

5:35 am.

“Go to sleep, then.” Liam laughs, looking at the ceiling.

“Can I borrow you?” Harry giggles, slumping against Louis’ side.

“Of course, Haz.” Louis says, nuzzling Harry’s neck.

Harry sits in Louis’ lap, straddling his hips. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling Harry’s legs to bring Harry closer to him. Harry’s legs meet behind Louis back, and Louis playfully taps Harry’s bum. Harry giggles, looking at Louis.

“You’re beautiful.” Louis says, kissing Harry’s nose.

Harry mumbles a thank you, moving impossibly closer to Louis. Harry yawns, laying his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“Goodnight, Hazza.” Louis hums, rubbing the younger’s back soothingly.

------ 4 weeks skipped, Louis and Harry remain unofficial. At their sleepovers, they are practically one body since they tangle themselves together at any opportunity. At school, nothing really changed, except they hug at any opportunity to do so. At the footie matches, Harry, Niall, and Liam always show up to support. The winter is getting colder, and 2nd term is coming to a close. Going back into the story, it’s the last game of the season, Friday.------

“Hazza, get your ass over here!” Liam yells, watching as Harry makes his way to their lunch table.

“Hey, love.” Louis smiles, pushing his phone into his pocket.

Harry takes a seat next to Liam, directly across from Lou. The boys all eat their lunch, chatting casually about anything. Niall gets up, saying he has to go see a teacher for help. The boys wave as he leaves, resuming their conversation.

“All Varsity Footie Athletes to Coach Carr’s room immediately, thank you.”

Louis groans, standing up quickly.

“See you in 6th hour, bye you two.” Louis says, walking over to kiss Harry’s forehead before leaving.

“Li, you got the hoodie?” Harry giggles, smiling widely as Liam pulls open his backpack.

“Coach Carr was so chill, he was all like, ‘oh, pranking Louis? I’m in.’ And said he’d make a cover story.” Liam laughs, closing his backpack. “Lou will be back in a minute, seeing as he’s not going to be receiving his hoodie yet.”

Sure enough, Louis walks back to their table, looking confused.

“Carr said mine didn’t come in, yet the rest of the teams did? I call bullshit.” He huffs, gears turning in his head.

“Awh, sorry Lou. Didn’t he say you were getting a different one because you’re captain?” Harry asked, smiling innocently.

“Yeah, must be shipping or something.” Louis mumbles.

---footie match time---

Louis looks around wildly, searching for Harry and Liam.

You see, the last game means that the team gets to pick up to 3 people to come to the field and watch from the sidelines, and obviously Louis picked his best friends. The game was set to start in 5 minutes, and only Niall was sitting on the bench.

“Ni, any updates?” Louis asks nervously, shaking his legs out a little bit.

Niall just shakes his head, smiling sadly at Louis. Lou just nods, looking to the field.

“Okay, Haz. You ready?” Liam says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry nods, adjusting Louis’ hoodie and looking at his shoes. Coach Carr let the boys take Louis’ hoodie, so that Harry could sport “Tomlinson 17″ on Louis’ final game, and his vans were tie-dyed custom, to match Lou’s blue jersey.

Harry walks out on to the field, giggling madly when Louis spots him. Louis’ mouth hangs open, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Harry in his hoodie. Harry does a spin, showing the older boy the hoodie fully, and then he ran up to him.

“Gotta support my favorite footie player...” Harry giggles, hugging Louis tightly. “Like my shoes?”

Louis looks down, seeing the blue vans with 17 printed on them in black. He turns the younger around, staring at his last name on Harry’s back.

“You’re too much, Har-”

The whistle blows, and Harry sprints to the bench where Liam and Niall are practically bursting from the cute scene.

“He’s absolutely fucking flustered!” Niall joked.

“It’s about time you see it, Haz.” Liam said, nudging Har’s shoulder with his.

Harry laughs, feeling excited that he’s seeing a little more into Louis.

The game started, and Louis’ team made their usual round about the field, Louis practically falling over at the sight of Harry again.

---

“GO LOU GO! RIGHT HERE COME ON, RIGHT NOW!” Harry yells, standing with the other boys.

“YES!!!! YES LOU!” Niall screams, the final point being played by Louis.

“That’s it! COL’s 4th season UNDEFEATED!” The announcer says, leading to the entire stadium to cheer loudly.

The boys stand up and sprint at Louis, cheering loudly. Louis smiles widely, holding the trophy up. His team picks him up, screaming. Harry stares up at him, biting his bottom lip while smiling.

“That was fucking amazing, Louis!” Niall grins, slapping Lou on the shoulder.

“Thanks, mate. I have the best cheerleaders.” Lou jokes, eyes lingering on Harry’s face for a moment.

“So... are you up for a sleepover?” Liam asked, sticking his tongue out slightly.

Harry pouts at Louis, doing his best puppy dog eyes. Louis laughs, something flashing in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course. I need to stop and grab some stuff, though.” Louis says.

At this point, Harry reaches out for a hug, but Louis walks out of reach. Harry pouts.

“Nope, we asked your mum to drop it off at mine before she came to watch the match.” Niall interrupts, smiling again.

The boys all go to say hi to Louis’ mum, chatting for a few minutes and then taking pictures of the Tomlinson’s. Louis’ mum kisses all over is face, leaving Louis embarrassed. Harry keeps trying to talk to Louis, but Louis seems to avoid Harry’s words.

“Let’s go, boys. Niall, you’re with me?” Louis asks, pulling his car keys out of his bag.

“I’ll go with Liam...” Harry says, looking to see if Louis reacts at all.

He doesn’t, leaving Harry confused. He’s probably just thinking too much about it.

“You two can go on in, me and Haz are gonna grab food. Lou you can shower in my bathroom, nasty boy.” Liam teases, getting into his car.

Harry follows, huffing slightly. Liam looks over, turning his car on.

“What’s the matter, Haz?” Liam asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“He seemed like, excited when I got there, right? And then I tried to hug him and he walked away. And he’s ignoring me?” Harry says, frustration in his voice.

Harry groans, pulling Louis’ hoodie off. He crosses his arms across his chest, throwing his head back.

“Okay, so I noticed that too. But he’s probably exhausted, right? He just played the best he has this entire season, I mean, he’s probably close to falling asleep standing up.” Liam explains, slowing down as he turns the corner.

Harry just groans, pulling his phone out. He and Liam sing loudly along to the radio, pulling in to order food.

---

“We’re here fuckers!” Harry yells, setting the food on the floor in the living room.

Niall runs into the room, diving at the food. Harry laughs, eating his fries. He sets Louis’ hoodie on the back of the couch. Liam frowns slightly, seeing past Harry’s facade.

Harry was upset, he wanted to do something special for Louis, and Louis seemed excited up until after the game when he had to see Harry again. For whatever reason.

“Haz, it’ll be fine. Just try to keep things normal, he’ll probably feel better after his shower, yeah?” Liam whispers.

They all eat, watching whatever programme was on the tv. Louis walks out around 15 minutes later, only wearing his adidas trackies.

“Hey Louis, food?” Niall gestures to the food waiting for the athlete. Niall looks up at Harry, noticing how his face had dropped when Louis walked in. “Hazza, c’mere.”

Harry crawls over to Niall, throwing his arms around the blonde. Niall rubs his back, feeling bad. Harry starts to feel a bit better, not sure why Louis ignoring him a couple of times was bothering him so much.

Niall tussles Harry’s curls, smiling at the younger lad when they pulled away. Harry smiled in return.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Louis mumbles, not looking up from his food.

“Cold...” Harry lies, though it’s not really a lie if he is cold, is it?

“Where’s my hoodie?” Louis asks, glancing around the room.

“Don’t wanna wear it.” Harry says, cuddling into Niall’s side.

Louis makes a face at that, looking at Harry for the first time since he got to Liam’s. Liam just shakes his head when Louis tries to say something, leading to Louis slumping back against the couch.

“Can we start a movie?” Harry whispers, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, anyone want drinks? Ni, start the movie?” Liam asks.

Liam leaves to grab drinks, and the other boys start to get cozy on the couch. Harry settles into the curve of the couch, where Louis would usually lay with him. Louis tries to sit near Harry, but the latter scoots closer to Niall.

Louis grunts, pulling out his phone. He texts Liam.

What did I do?

Bro, you ignored him after the game. He was all excited to show up wearing your hoodie and the custom shoes and shit, he thought you’d be all cute after the game with him, I guess.

I dont know whats up today with me, Li. But right now he won’t even sit near me

It’s not his fault. he just wanted you to show something more, I guess?

What do you mean liam!!!

I cant just tell you, its not my business.

LIAM.

You already know what im talking about. you just need to show him you’re not just being friendly, catch my drift?

liam? are you serious?

read 8:52pm

“Hazza, come over here...” Louis trails off, opening his arms up.

“Can I stay over here with Niall?” Harry whimpers, curling his fist in Niall’s shirt.

Louis forces a smile, pulling his phone out again.

So Harry thinks I’m strictly friends with him, that I don’t have feelings for him?

I mean, you were kissing on him and cuddling him and calling him babe and baby and shit, and then after that first sleepover you treated him like you treat me and niall. just cuddles. he thinks youre friendzoning him.

Shit. He won’t get off of Niall...

Idk man. I’m coming up there.

“Harry! Your tea...” Liam laughs, handing Harry a mug.

Harry sips at it, sitting up a little.

“Haz, can you scoot? Niall’s my cuddling buddy today, you got him at the game when you were cold!” Liam laughs, glancing at Louis.

Louis grins, feeling a pang of jealousy when Harry whines into Niall’s shirt, grabbing onto the fabric tighter and burying his face in Niall’s chest.

“Not now, Li.”

Louis gets up, prying Harry’s hands from Niall’s tshirt. Harry yelps, wiggling frantically.

“Haz, what’s all this? Come here.” Louis grumbles, sitting Harry next to him on the couch.

“No, I’m going to the loo.” Harry snaps, getting up as soon as he sat next to Louis.

Harry storms off, slamming the door closed. He slams his fists into the counter, angry at Louis.

Louis looks up shocked, completely confused by Harry.

“Like I said, mate. Stop treating him like a friend when he’s actively trying to get you to show him something.” Liam said, looking like this was completely obvious.

“I mean, honestly Louis, for that one day when you 2 got super close and we had that talk about him thinking we were going to leave, he was so happy and you treated him like you wanted him. And you do want him, right? So why are you pushing all that progress and the cheesy kisses on the cheek and petnames out like they were never there?” Niall adds, standing up. “Go get him. Tell him how you feel, this bullshit is making me mad. Acting like you see him as a friend and getting jealous when he cuddles with me because he needs comfort...”

Louis stands up, walking to the bathroom.

“Haz? Open up, we need to talk.” Louis mumbles, waiting to hear the lock click.

It does, 2 minutes later. Harry stands in the doorway, avoiding Louis’ eyes. Louis walks in, closing the door behind him. He picks up Harry, setting him on the edge of the counter and standing between his legs, placing his hands on Harry’s hips.

“Listen, I’m sorry that I ignored you after the game. I have a reason. I know that you think I only like you as a friend, but you’re totally wrong. I know I stopped being all over you after that one night, it’s just that I didn’t want to push it. All I want is you, I just want to make sure you’re ready, and don’t feel pressured at all. You’re the first thing on my mind every morning, I swear. But I know you were hurt in the past, and I don’t want to be the cause of any tears, my Hazza.” Louis whispers, thumbing over Harry’s cheekbones. “I want you, and everything you come with. I’m sorry for acting like a prick.”

“Are you scared, too?” Harry asks, still looking down.

“I didn’t think you liked me that way, I couldn’t tell. Well, I think my hesitancy, after realizing how scared you were that I’d leave... I think it made me stay away from you in the way that I want to be with you.” Louis explains.

Harry nods, sucking his bottom lip in.

“Can we leave our chat at this, for right now? Can we go cuddle?” Louis asks, pulling Harry in by his waist.

“Can I ask you something first?” Harry asks, earning a nod from Louis. “You do feel more than friends feelings, right?”

Louis’ eyes soften some more, and he leans in to kiss the corners of Harry’s mouth, desperately wanting to press their lips together but deciding it was best to wait.

“Good answer?” Louis giggles, kissing Harry’s reddened cheeks. “You’re too cute, baby.”

The 2 walk out to the living room, sitting on the couch beside each other. Louis opens his arms, waiting for Harry to fall into them. Harry looks down shyly, fiddling with his fingers.

“Hey, no shyness Hazza...” Louis mumbles, grabbing Harry’s hands.

He brings them up to his lips, pressing kisses to his knuckles. Harry coughs a little, frowning.

“Can I go get changed, Lou?” Harry pouts, earning a nod from Louis.

“As long as you put my hoodie back on.”

Harry blushes, grabbing the hoodie on his way back to the bathroom. Harry changes, looking into the mirror. He’s been feeling a little under the weather since just before the game, ignoring it until now. He shuffles out to the living room, pulling the sleeves over his hands.

“Lou...” Harry whines, coughing a little more, sniffling slightly.

“Baby, come here.” Louis says, pulling on the younger’s hand.

Harry settles into Louis’ naked chest, breathing unsteadily.

“Not feeling well? What’s wrong, sweets?” Louis fusses, pulling Harry onto his lap.

Harry keeps his head pressed into Louis’ body, groaning quietly.

“Head hurts again, my nose is stuffy and throat hurts... I just don’t feel well.” Harry sniffles, holding onto Louis tightly.

“Liam, do you have honey?” Louis asks, rubbing Harry’s back.

Liam nods, running down the stairs. He comes back with a spoon and honey, handing it to Harry.

“It’s like a lolly, huh? C’mon, babe, it’ll help.” Louis encourages, Harry licking at the substance.

After Harry is done, he sets the spoon inside his empty mug, turning so he is facing Louis. He wraps his legs around Louis’ waist, feeling weak.

“Oh, I’m sorry Haz. Go to sleep, my love...” Louis whispers, kissing Harry’s forehead.

“Feel dizzy, I don’t wanna lay down.” Harry mumbles, pushing himself closer to the older boy.

“Here,” Louis guides Harry’s head to his shoulder, tightening his grip on the younger’s waist. “Go to sleep, baby. I’m sorry about today. You’re mine now, though. I’m not letting you go.”

“I don’t want you to let me go... Don’t leave me all alone.” Harry whispers, holding on to Louis tighter.

“I won’t, you’re not alone anymore. Not with me around.”

A/N

not how I wanted to end it, but I didn’t know how to tie it all up... hopefully it’s decent.

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