#I swear he had a vendetta against me in my last few weeks in his class

[serenhob]

I have half after 3 HOURS

why am i so slow at drawing digitally

I blame my fingers

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

[daisies-and-buttercups]

“Love and War / Chapter II″ - Luca Changretta x reader

Summary: Waking up to an empty bed and the words that Luca left for you, you soon realise that everything is going to go down today, and you’ll soon have to pick a side. 

A/N: I swear that this post took me at least three tries, tumblr kept deleting and/or messing up the formatting so I’m really hoping that this is worth it lol 💕

Words: 2.7k

Chapter I Chapter III

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The next morning you shifted in bed, stretching your arms in search of your lover’s body, but all you felt was the crumpling sheets, still warm from where his body was not too long ago. You groaned, sitting up and scanning the room, eyebrows scrunched into a tired look. If you had to guess what had happened the night before just by looking at your room you wouldn’t have had any clues. Your clothes were neatly folded by the chair and there was no other evidence that anything had indeed happened. No clothes abandoned on the floor, no man lying next to you. 

You walked down the stairs almost second guessing yourself, thinking over the night's events while you prepared a cup of coffee that you so desperately craved. Taking a big sip your eyes landed on the small table by the door, only usually adorned by a small plate for your keys and some letters that you hadn’t gotten around to opening yet, now decorated by a beautiful bouquet. You never had flowers around, the item useless and expensive, not something that you could afford with your paycheque, but just with their presence they lit the room up, their delicate perfume filling your lungs. You smiled and walked up to them, lifting the small card up to read it. A simple phrase full of adoration and love, with a few words in Italian, made you blush at the love you felt, but the final sentence made your heart drop. 

If today is kind with my soul, I shall meet you in your dreams tonight, mio amore.

His handwriting was smooth and elegant with each word, but the last sentence was slightly messy, revealing his feelings maybe more than he was used to. His fear. He didn’t think he’d make it back.

So today was the day. 

You scurried over to the phone, picking it up and calling the Shelbys, hoping that someone, anyone, would answer, but no one did. There was no point in leaving the house, you wouldn’t know where to find them and you had no way of knowing where Luca was either. There were many places where this showdown could happen, and even if you found it, what were you going to do? You couldn’t just waltz in hoping not to get shot. Still, the mix of emotions in your chest made you dizzy. Why didn’t he say anything? You dreaded the images that flashed before your eyes, first that of Tommy’s lifeless body, still clutching his gun, then that of Luca, tumbling as a bullet hit him square in the chest.  Tears fell as you pictured those scenarios, but knew that that was all they were. They weren’t real. But even knowing that, you couldn’t stop pacing around the room, counting the minutes and going over the events of the past few weeks.  You didn’t know how to feel about this whole ordeal. You never forgot how Tommy and his family welcomed you when you had been left with nothing, giving you a job, food, inviting you over for drinks and celebrations, but as much as you dreamed of it, you’d never be part of them. You fit in, but not fully. You weren’t part of their circle, but you were part of their “clean” life. Tommy made sure to to leave you out of the dirty deeds, even if you gathered what happened behind closed doors, and by doing so he shut you out of the only part of their life that would make you fully fit in with them. Then Luca arrived, and the calls, on the phone that Thomas brought just for you, since you couldn’t afford one in any other way, started becoming less frequent, with less news. No more talking about the business, no more working by their side, no more gossiping with Ada or Polly on Saturday evenings. You still got your salary, somehow left by your door with nothing else attached to it, not even a note, but that didn’t change the stark difference in your routine. You barely felt like family, or whatever you had ended up being, anymore. You felt even more left out now. So when Luca came around and actually listened to you, and talked to you, and shared his interests while asking about yours, you felt appreciated, loved. You had found somewhere where you fitted.  And now here you stood, weary of whose death you’d have to cry at the end of the day.

It took hours for the phone to ring with news, which made you jump into alertness, rushing over to answer. “Where is he?” You stayed quiet for a moment, fully expecting to hear Polly’s or Ada’s voice, not Tommy’s. He was alive, and clearly Polly had told him about your meeting with the Italian. “Where is-” “Where is he?” he raised his voice in unison to the loud sound you heard not far from him, probably his fist banging against the table.  So they still were both alive. You let a breath out that you were unaware you had been holding, gripping your clothes tightly, adrenaline running in your veins from the news.  He didn’t usually raise his voice, so his anger was evident, yet you weren’t sure if it was directed at you or at Luca. He clearly had gotten away, and the thought of that was enough to lift that weight off your chest. “I don’t know, Thomas.”  “You knew last night, though, didn’t you? When he was in your bed? Bet it felt good, eh, fucking the enemy?” You didn’t answer, your face blushing in shame and anger. He had no right to spy into your personal life. You knew that in his books you were on the wrong side of the war they were fighting, but his words were harsh, cutting through you without any of the warmth they once held. “Don’t defend a fucking wop. Tell me.” “I don’t know where he is. But this has to end, Thomas, this war you’re-” “Why don’t you tell that to your friend?” He pronounced the last word with sarcasm and hatred, but what hurt him was the betrayal he felt when you made it clear that you cared about him.  “I already did. I told him I support neither of your ways. Just stop, someone’s gonna get hurt.“ “And it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfire.” he spat out, the silence ringing in your ears as if his threat were a slap. “Goodnight, Thomas.” You replied, slamming the phone down, not even sure if he was still there to hear you but not willing to argue anymore. You didn’t stop walking around the halls, hoping that someone else would tell you more about what actually went down, still in the dark, but no one did. 

That night you laid in bed, thinking over everything that had happened, or at least what you knew. The fairytale routine you had fallen in with Luca, the fancy restaurants, chivalrous words and tender kisses were taken away from you so soon after they started, leaving you desperate for what you had started growing so used to. Had it not been for the vendetta, he’d probably be here next to you right now, drawing circles on your shoulders with his fingertips, kissing you softly. But he wasn’t here, and all you knew was that he must’ve been alive somehow, since Tommy had no idea as to where he could’ve been.  Standing up you took a few steps towards the small balcony, desperate for some fresh air. There was barely enough space to stand on it so you leaned on the window frame, spotting someone moving away just as you glanced down towards the back street. Had you been in a less emotional state you’d have never chased after them, but right now all you wanted were answers.  You turned the corner, losing your balance as you slammed into someone, but their hands held you up, pulling you against them.  “You shouldn’t have come out here, principessa. You never know who might linger in the dark.” With your mouth agape you stood still for a moment, realising who was standing in front of you and finally wrapping your arms around him, colliding with his chest once more. He let out a low chuckle, melting into your embrace and holding you, feeling your heartbeat calm him down, a natural remedy that only you could provide. Your tears fell freely, wetting his coat while you shivered against him. “Well, lucky me then.” you joked, breathing in his scent, the notes of sandalwood surrounding you. “What happened?”  “Nothing. The police got in the way.” he shrugged lightly, his hands still around your waist, pulling you against him. “Thomas was looking for you. He called me.” he nodded, looking around the street for any signs of someone spying on them, but no one was around at this time, but he didn’t care either way. “I’m leaving for Camden Town. I won’t be back for a few days, so you won’t see me for a bit.” “And what are you going to do in Camden Town?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. He wouldn’t stop, and there was only one man in London that had a strong connection to Tommy, and not always a good one. You had never met Alfie Solomons, but you knew enough about him to know where this was going. “Not important. I came to get a goodbye kiss.” his eyes crinkled as he smiled, lifting your chin with his fingers and finding his mouth, kissing you with an initial softness, growing into a hunger that he couldn’t afford right now. He groaned, breaking the kiss, resting his forehead to yours. “What are you planning, Luca?”  “Goodnight, dear.”  “It’s not gonna end well.” “Goodnight, dear.” He repeated, kissing your forehead and lingering for a moment more, before urging you to walk back home, waiting until you were out of sight to slip away, walking towards the car that would take him to London. 

You spent days waiting for something, but there was nothing. No calls, no letters, no news.  You picked a few books off your bookshelf, books you had never had the time to read, and scanned the pages, not managing to focus on more than a few pages. It was that dark feeling in your chest that you couldn’t ignore, and the lack of news only made it worse, feeding your mind with the most horrible scenarios.  It felt like a blessing, if only for a short moment, when a call arrived shortly after dinner. You were resting your head on the sofa, singing along to some old songs while you stared at your hands, the concept of time slowly slipping away, when you received the news, making you sit up in disbelief. Polly had been brief, delivering the news and nothing more, leaving you clutching your telephone and staring into thin air for what felt like hours. She hadn’t said anything more, leaving you with the feelings that surrounded you. Sadness, rage, hopelessness… everything was bubbling in your chest, a feeling of guilt coating everything, making you feel like you were somehow at fault here, like you hadn’t prevented this.  You paced around for most of the night, only pausing your wondering when the realisation hit you again, big tears slipping past your eyes as you recalled the memories of the times shared, stopping your incessant actions at the faint knock at the door early in the morning. “I saw your light on.” he looked behind you, his lips twitching up for a short moment, only to fall back into a stoic look when he met your gaze, clearly seeing the tears that you tried to wipe away before opening the door, your eyes red with sadness and rage. “Tell me you didn’t.”  It was a whisper, one that made his heart break. It wasn’t just your expression, nor the redness under your eyes, but your moving away from the door, as if you feared him.  “Alfie Solomons-” he started, willing to offer an explanation for his deeds. “I don’t care about Alfie! I asked you to stop this after the vendetta happened!” you shouted, getting closer just to throw punches at his chest, yet no matter your anger you were nothing but gentle, barely making him flinch.  “He didn’t stop either.”  “Because he’s stubborn. He’s-” “I am too. He killed my men. Just ‘cause you were closer to Arthur doesn’t mean that the death of my men means nothing.” “I don’t want to be part of this anymore.” you announced, slipping from his grasp and moving away, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. “You never were a part of this.”  “Maybe not, but with how things are going I’m going to end up as collateral damage.” “You know I’d never let anything happen to you. Even if you stood by him, I wouldn’t-” You turned and walked up the stairs, ignoring his words and grabbing your traveling bag from the wardrobe as he made his way up, scoffing but following you into the bedroom nonetherless.  You picked your clothes and folded them quickly, placing them in the bag and throwing a couple other belongings in.  “What are you doing?” He asked, sitting on your bed and stopping your movements by holding your hips, his touch delicate, in harsh contrast with his look. He always felt so… different around you. Delicate, careful, loving. Little things, like the way he remembered what wine you liked, or some of your little quirks, or the softness of his touches when he was near you. After the night where you both fell into your bed, he’d become more open with showing his affection, but before that he never really shied away from it either. His hand gently cradling the small of your back when guiding you into a restaurant, or the brush of his fingers against your cheek when a stray hair got away from behind your ear. “I’m ending it tomorrow.” He announced, avoiding your gaze. “What?” You turned to face him, not fully understanding his plan of attack. “I called a meeting with Thomas.”  “To apologise?” “To make a deal.” He corrected you. “But it might not work. So…” He took one of his rings off, holding your hand and placing it in your palm, closing it around it. “To remember me by. Or not. Maybe it’s better to forget me, after all.” He brought your hand to your lips, as if to seal a deal, smiling. “I won’t have to remember you. You’re not going.” Your hand on his arm was supposed to stop him, or slow him down at least, but he just smiled at you as you would with a child that doesn’t fully understand the state the world is in.  “I have to finish what I started.” “Luca, don’t.” you tried to give it back, but he shook his head, moving away from you and down the stairs. “Arthur didn’t deserve it.”  “He’s the one that pulled the trigger.”  You didn’t speak, not knowing what to add. You knew he was referring to the death of his father, but what Arthur had done was almost out of mercy. Tommy wouldn’t have stopped, so he intervened. There were many mistakes he had made in his life, but dying because of an act of mercy wasn’t what he deserved.  “Ti amo, bedda mia.” And with a final look he left, not waiting for an answer, exhaling when the door closed behind him. He saw the way you looked at him, the tears that escaped your eyes, feeling betrayed by his actions, but he did what he had to do.  “Luca, we’re not finished talking.” Your words had no effect on the man, just like you knew they wouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking them. It wasn’t only grief that was holding you back now, but fear. For a moment you saw the man just as he had been painted since the beginning: a gangster, a killer, nothing more but a heartless man. You fell back against the wall, clinging on to the ring he had gifted you, the only thing that felt certain right now. You watched as he stepped out, closing the door behind him ever so gently, to avoid making noise, and wondered what hid behind those eyes. How much could you risk for him?

He could feel you looking at him as he made his way out, knowing just how disappointed you were, but he wouldn’t back down. He knew what was going to go down tomorrow, what he’d say, how he'd move, and he’d do anything to have you by his side. 

After all, all is fair in love and war. 

[midnightsconspiracy]

Faith Restored

Faith Restored - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: When an argument with your husband causes you to walk out, a vendetta against him leads to you being kidnapped. But will Hank find you in time to be reunited with him and your child?

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

Word Count: 2670

Requested: Yes! I got these two requests so decided to combine them into one fic as they were pretty similar, so I hope the people that requested don't mind. :)

"hi!! I’m so happy I found someone that loves hank too. I’ll literally take any fic with him: age gap romance, marriage, having a baby, his enemies taking you and him tearing the city apart to get you back, some combination of all that, I’ll take it all. thank you for your writing!!"

"Hii! I love your fics 💖 could you please write something with hank, like he arguments with his girlfriend about their work, then she’s kidnapped and he gets all worried and asks for forgiveness, if you don’t feel comfortable with that it’s aaaaall goood :) xoxo"

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this fic and I have a few more requests to write so stayed tunes for them. But thank you for your support and keep sending requests in. Also if you've got some free time drop me a message, I'd love to hear from some of you guys!!!

Masterlist

Love. It was a feeling you had refused to believe in. Everyone around you telling you that the one was out there, and it was only a matter of time, but you were convinced that wasn’t true. At one point previously you had believed in it but that only led to a broken heart and weeks of uncontrollable crying, the man you thought was the one, cheating on you only days before your wedding. So how could it be true if the universe had let you suffer that badly? But as cliché as it sounds, that point of view changed completely as soon as you started your new job as a detective in the intelligence unit. From day one you had fallen head over heels for your boss, that hope of love finally returning. It had taken a long time for you to trust him and enter a fully committed relationship as that fear of heartbreak and the large age gap between you loomed over you both initially. Hank had been the best though, taking his time going step by step to make sure you were comfortable with everything, as well as keeping away the judgement from others the best that he could. He understood that feeling himself, still suffering the loss of Camille’s death, scared that you would leave him, but instead of being non-committal, it drove him to love you more, living each day like it was his last.

Now five years later, your relationship was pure bliss. Long gone were the days of doubts and distrust, instead replaced with only contentment and loyalty. Onlookers still judged the unconventional age difference but you had learned to live with it, coming to the conclusion that you loved Hank regardless and that was all that mattered. Only eight months into the relationship he decided that you really were the one for him, and a world in which he didn’t spend the rest of his life with you was one he couldn’t imagine, and so proposed inside his office, the place that started it all. You married shortly after at the courthouse, with only a small guest list, just wanting to be surrounded by your closest friends and family. The unit all in attendance, some crying, others wishing it were them getting married but collectively all ecstatic at the fact their favourite office romance was finally tying the knot. The next couple of months felt like absolute paradise, like you were in some sort of dream never to wake up again. Never a day went by where you didn’t feel the utmost joy and love in your heart, each day was a new adventure with the man that you could finally call your husband. You were on cloud nine thinking your life couldn’t get any better, until one day two pink lines stared back at you.

When you married Hank you didn’t expect to have any children, with him already having Justin and a grandson. This left you a little disheartened, but you would have married him under any conditions, even if that meant your dream of having kids would never come true. Whilst talking about your future together in the first few months of dating, the topic of kids had come up once or twice, with him stating he would love to have kids with you, but believing he couldn’t have any due to his age. But once you had told him you were pregnant, he was absolutely elated, even crying whilst confessing how much he loved and appreciated you. After a relatively difficult pregnancy with Hank being the most supportive, protective partner there could be, you gave birth to a gorgeous baby boy weighing in at 8 pounds, having his eye colour and your nose, a perfect combination of the both of you. For the first few years of your babies life, you spent your time staying at home looking after him, watching him grow up to look more and more like your husband each day. But finally, after his third birthday, you decided the unit was your calling and you wanted to rejoin your old team.

Things started off relatively normal, reuniting with the unit properly, finally becoming a team again. Adrenaline filled your veins once more, loving the thrill of arresting criminals and going on busts. The words ‘let's roll out’ sent sparks of serotonin throughout your body, loving being back after years of ‘calmness’ from child care. This new feeling caused you to get a little over-excited sometimes but nothing, in your opinion, that could be considered careless. However, if you asked Hank he would completely disagree. The man just wanted you to be safe at all times, not just for him but for your son as well. Things started heating up after a couple of weeks of you working there, him not wanting to address it initially as he knew you were so happy doing what you loved, but he was scared for your safety. He didn’t want a repeat of his last marriage, he adored you so much he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you were to get an injury or die. That was until one night, a bad day at the office caused him to snap, needing you to know how he felt about what you were doing.

Leaning against the counter in the kitchen at your shared home, you heard the door slam, knowing it was Hank, who had stayed behind in his office after a particularly nasty case.

“Hi Babe, did you get everything done that you wanted to?” You chirped, just happy that your husband was finally home.

“Y/N we need to talk,” you turned around to face him, your smile falling at his serious tone.

“Ok?”

“I understand you love being back in the unit but Y/N, we have a son now”

“What are you trying to say?” You replied, your tone turning sour, part of you knew what he was trying to say, but never in your mind did you think he would confront you about it. Why couldn’t he just be happy for you?

“I just think you’re being too reckless in the field,” he remained calm, just trying to get you to understand where he was coming from.

“Reckless? Are you fucking kidding me! I’ve spent three years looking after our kid and you can’t even allow me to have this?” You were furious by this point, you loved your job and had been away from it for a long time. Ok, maybe you were a little under cautious sometimes but not what he was suggesting!

“I'm just looking out for you, I can’t have you dying on me Y/N! You’re my wife for god’s sake I want you to be alive and safe!” He raised his voice, angry you couldn’t see what he was seeing.

“You know what fuck you, Hank!” You pushed past him, grabbing your keys and wallet on the way out, getting into your car to go anywhere but that house.

Driving around the city you were thinking of places to go, your parents, a hotel, another member of the units house? Finally deciding on Jay’s apartment you pulled into his buildings car park, checking your phone before going inside. Staring back at you were five missed calls and thirteen unread messages, all from the same person, the reason why you were outside someone else’s apartment and not your own home. Getting out of your car you walked towards the entrance of the apartment building, mulling over whether you should message Hank back. Deciding against it, you lowered your phone, not even wanting to think about it for the time being. Suddenly someone grabbed you by the waist, yanking you towards them, placing a foreign material over your mouth. You screamed, praying someone would hear your cries as you kicked your legs out and at the perpetrator as they dragged you backwards. More hands reached out to pull you into a car, sobbing you regretted what happened earlier, wishing you would have just stayed home. Finally, as your vision blurred, you hoped the unit would find you before it was too late.

Waking up in a cold room, you tried to pull your arm towards your chest, meeting resistance in the form of metal chains attached above your head. You groggily looked around, using your detective skills to assess the situation you were in, noting nothing in the cold, concrete room except yourself and a metal frame chair placed in front of you. Confused at the situation, you thought about what you had done, was it a person you had arrested? Or someone who had a vendetta against you? That you didn’t know, you couldn’t comprehend anything at the moment, your head pounding not allowing you to think clearly. You remembered being in the apartment complex’s car park after an argument but other than that everything was hazy. Thinking as hard as you could, your thoughts were interrupted as one of the offenders entered the room. He sat at the chair, sharpening his knife, a sadistic smirk played on his face.

“You know why you’re here?” Raking your brain you couldn’t think of anyone you had pissed off enough for them to go to these extremes.

“No,” you replied not wanting to antagonise him in any way.

“Your killer of a husband murdered my boy in broad daylight and no one, NO ONE, ever did anything about it!”

“That wasn’t me, please just let me go, you can talk it out with my husband in the proper ways!” You pleaded, knowing that him showing you his face didn’t bode well for your chances of survival.

“YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS THE DAY YOU MARRIED THAT MURDERER!” He shouted out, punching you in the stomach, taking his anger out on you anyways possible.

“He’ll find us, and when he does he’ll kill you too,” you spat knowing that you couldn’t make anything worse. In response he threw a series of punches at your face, grabbing his knife holding it to your throat. Smirking he replied,

“You think he really cares about you?”

“WELL, WHERE IS SHE?” Hank was absolutely seething. Shouting at anyone who came to talk to him, both members of his unit and uniformed officers alike. He couldn’t lose her, besides his son, she was his whole life, not even wanting to picture a world where she wasn’t with him. He had to prepare for the worst, he knew that, but he couldn’t do it without a tear coming to his eye. Why her? Why couldn’t they just have taken him instead? He was who they wanted, not her, so why couldn't they just have fucking take him?! The team all sat watching, waiting, knowing it was only a matter of time before he would come out and demand answers, ones they didn’t have at the moment. They owed their boss, cashing in multiple favours with him throughout their time in intelligence, and they knew this was the only thing Voight would ever ask for in return. And Y/N, you had worked with them for years, not just being colleagues but developing a strong friendship that would last years to come, that’s if they could find you in time. Exiting his office, the unit turned to their boss as he spoke.

“I want everyone giving their all to this case, this is my wife we’re talking about, not just some faceless victim, Y/N, your friend, your colleague, and we are going to find her. No matter what it takes, am I clear?” Each detective replied with a ‘yes sarge' and getting to work, investigating every lead that they could. A couple of hours later the team had found the suspects, located pod footage from the time you were kidnapped and worked out a motive, everything seemed like was going well, except for the fact they still didn’t have a location. Another hour passed and still no location, Hank getting more and more agitated by the second, with his anger about to boil over, all with the push of a button, or a certain detective. Being the bearer of bad news, the team pushed Ruzek to play the devils advocate to tell the Sergeant they had come up empty.

“Hey Sarge, we’ve got nothing else, every lead we’ve got is coming up dry”

“NOTHING! YOU’VE GOT NOTHING? SHE COULD BE DEAD FOR ALL WE KNOW AND YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU’VE GOT NOTHING?” Hank boomed scared that his precious wife, who had done nothing to deserve this, could be being tortured or even worse dead.

“Hank, Hank” Olinsky stepped in, pushing his distraught friend back in his office, knowing Adam had done nothing wrong, instead just an outlet for his long term friends anger.

“It's ok, she’s gonna be fine” Alvin reassured him, knowing him exploding with emotions would do nothing to help his missing wife. Finally, an hour later, the team got a breakthrough courtesy of a CI of Dawson's, gearing up and rolling out as quickly as possible much to Hank’s delight.

Raising your head, you spat at the man in front of you, teasing him even more, threatening him to do his worst. He had beat you, cut you, degraded you, trying to get your spirit to break. Although you knew Hank would come to find you, you were starting to crack, the pain overwhelming to the point where you couldn’t cope anymore, a pain you wouldn’t wish on anyone. You were losing faith rapidly, expecting your unit to have already come by now, but where were they? Maybe they didn’t actually care about you? Lowering your head after a series of more beatings, you’d had enough.

“Please stop, please, I’ll do whatever you want, just please stop!” You cried finally giving into the man.

“I want you to pay for what your husband has done to my family, pay with your life,” he pulled a gun from the waistband of his trousers, pointing straight at the middle of your forehead. You had lived your life as much as you could, finding the love of your life, having a son and restoring your faith in the universe, well up until now. Closing your eyes you prepared yourself for the bullet, but when the loud shot came, it wasn’t from a gun but instead the door flying off its hinges.

“DROP THE WEAPON!” Someone shouted, someone that sounded weirdly familiar to your husband.

“DROP IT,” they repeated before you heard a clatter on the ground and a flurry of movement. Suddenly someone grabbed your face, nervously speaking your name. Opening your eyes, you looked up, staring straight into the eyes of your husband, smiling briefly before a cloud of darkness washed over you.

Waking up, the first thing you noticed with the constant beeping of a machine, then the warm feeling of a hand in yours. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking sluggishly adjusting to the harsh light, before focusing on the figure beside you.

“Hank?” You croaked, sounding like death itself but glad you were alive and facing your husband once more.

“Baby! Thank god you’re alive, you got me so worried there,” you smiled, thanking whatever god was out there for a second chance so you could spend the rest of your life with your husband and child.

“I-i missed you, Hank”

“I know Baby, I know I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry for walking out on you, why couldn’t I have just stayed there and listened to you? Talked it out properly”

“No don’t apologise, this was all my fault, you loved what you were doing and I was trying to take that away from you because of my own selfish wants.” You loved the man beside you unconditionally and although you were mad in the moment, this whole situation made you realise that nothing he could do could make you love him any less.

[drabblingdraco]

✬Arranged✬ Draco Malfoy X Reader (Request)

This is a request I received!

"Hello! I would love if you wrote something around reader and draco being forced into an arranged marriage by their parents. They hate each other at first because draco used to bully/insult her in school, they're constantly at each other's thoughts at first but then they begin to not mind each other's company... idk if that makes sense feel free to ask any questions. if you don't mind writing it I would love you see your take on it ❤️ oh and maybe the reader would fit the whole pureblood Slytherin comes from a wealthy family thing too. Something like that..."

I’ve read various imagines with a similar plot, but here’s my take on it! If you’d like a Part 2, let me know! I love this story line

Warning: swearing, slightly mean/bully Draco

Very long like 2k oops

Draco's POV:

I was awoken by the sound of Father walking in to my bedroom. He told me I needed to get up and ready for the day, as the (y/l/n)'s were coming. I ran my fingers through my hair, stressing over the fact I had to see (y/n) again. I couldn't stand being in the same room as her. She made me feel emotions I refused to let out. Although we were arranged to be married, I would never let her in my head. She wasn't getting anywhere near my vulnerability. I looked up at Father as he walked towards my bed, grabbing my chin.

"Son, you know how important this is. She's one of the only good pure bloods your age. Not to mention her great, great grandfather was the founder of Slytherin house. Don't fuck this up, Draco." He spat his last sentence before exiting.

I sighed, getting out of bed. My warm feet adjusted to the cold temperature of the wood floor. I went into my closet and picked out my usual attire: an emerald button up, black slacks and black laced dress shoes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I combed my hair back to a suitable placement. After spritzing some cologne on my neck, I saw a silver town car pull up outside the window.

(y/n)'s POV:

As the car came to a stop, I sighed while slouching in my seat. I could see Draco peering out the window pane. I wasn't looking forward to spending another day at the Malfoy's, yet again. I've been coming to the Manor my whole life. I knew the Malfoy's like the back of my hand, except Draco. He repeatedly threw his aggression towards me. Every time we spoke, one of my flaws came up in conversation. He always pointed out the (y/birthmark) on my (y/body part).

"Out the car now darling, time to see your fiancé."

"Mother please stop calling him that."

"Why? He is your betrothed after all." She grinned.

I rolled my eyes. After all these years, I still can't imagine being married to that foul mouth. I wanted to marry someone I loved, like my parents. But all they cared about was the Malfoy’s and keeping their great image in the wizarding world.

I stepped out of the car and mother shouted at me from the other side. "Go ahead inside love, I'll meet you in there." She had a slight smirk across her lips. I was suspicious, but not enough to ask questions.

I make my way up the grand stairs, Narcissa waited for me in the doorway.

"Hello dear! Delighted to see you again." She gave me a hug and a peck on the head.

"Draco will be down in just a minute- DRACO!" She smiled. I internally groaned.

A figure came walking down the spiral staircase. His hair was placed just right, making his piercing grey eyes stand out. His sleeves were cuffed right above his wrists, the green really accentuated his skin tone. I quickly shook myself out of admiration coma.

"Draco." I said with a straight face.

"(y/n).." he replied.

"Draco, why don't you take her to the gardens while your father gets her trunks?"

"Trunks? What do you mean?"

Narcissa looked confuzzled. "Oh dear, don't know you? You're staying at the manor for a short while."

My eyes went wide, "What?"

"WHAT?!" Draco grasped the railing of the stairs, the veins on his hand popping out as he strained against the wood.

"Draco! Behave yourself," Narcissa gritted through her teeth, she turned to me smiling.

"I don't have any clothes," I stammered, trying to make up excuses to avoid my dreadful stay.

"Yes you do!" Mother said, walking through the door.

I turned to face her with stink eyes, "is there a reason you didn't tell me I had to stay here with this twat?!" I motioned to Draco.

"And you didn't tell me this bloody-" Draco shouted at Narcissa, but she quickly stopped him.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence between the four of us. 

"My love, it's time you got a taste of the married life," she grasped my shoulder shaking me subtly. "After all, you are older now and soon enough, you'll officially be husband and wife."

"But mother! I-"

"No buts! Now I really must be going. I have to meet your father at the council meeting, but enjoy yourself! I packed you enough clothes for a few weeks, so you're all set dear." She kissed me on the cheek as I stood there, dumbfounded.

"Goodbye darling!" She shouted as Lucious shut the door behind her, exiting the manor.

I turned around to face the two Malfoys that stood before me. How could she just dump me here? And for weeks?  It's bad enough she married me off before I could even breathe. There's no way I would be able to last that long here with Draco. I look at both him and Narcissa, he looked enraged and I couldn't blame him.

"Now take a walk in the gardens, get some fresh air." She stated as a command rather than a question.

We both looked at each other with disgust, but we followed her wishes and headed towards the courtyard. We walked in silence for quite awhile. It was a cumbersome stroll, he wouldn't look me in the eyes or even my direction. I shouldn't be surprised, he was always like this, but something was different. He seemed tense, like he was holding something back. I tried to enjoy myself as if he wasn't there, admiring the lilies and pansies scattered perfectly symmetrical. Unfortunately my eyes kept falling back on him. His tapered slacks rested right above his matte dress shoes. The way his shirt grasped his frame. I felt a chill going down my spine. I adjusted my cardigan, wrapping it tightly around my chest. For some reason this got his attention and he whipped his view towards me.

"Don't tell me you're cold?" He scoffed, scrunching his nose.

"Is there a problem with feeling normal human reactions?" I spat.

He laughed, "just find it rather odd you'd wear such a short skirt on a day like this."

I shook my head in anger. It was typical he pointed out something to do with my attire. "It's summer Malfoy..what, would you rather I wear jeans and sweat like a pig?" Looking me up and down, his eyes lingering at the hem of my skirt.

He ignored my words and continued to walk faster, heading back to the manor. I scoffed and continued at my pace, in no rush to go back inside with that jackoff.

I closed the door to the courtyard and locked it. My eyes traveled around the room, I remembered memories from my childhood, when Draco was actually pleasant towards me and didn't act like a dick. We used to play with fake wands and babble made up spells to each other. I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw Narcissa approaching.

"Why don't you come have some tea? I just brewed a pot." I nodded and followed her to the dining room.

I sat down in one of the many chairs seated at the table. A minute later she came back with a kettle and two dark green teacups with silver snakes on them. Typical Slytherins, but I was one to talk. We chatted a bit about how I've been since we last saw one another, even though it was only a mere three weeks ago. Then we diverted to the subject of Hogwarts. She went on about Dumbledore and how Lucious couldn't stand him. At this point, who didn't know about his vendetta against him.

After a few hours of conversing, she said she was tired and was heading to bed.

"You'll stay in Draco's room this evening."

"Um, are you sure? Can't I stay in the guest room?"

"Oh..the guest room is being..remodeled at the moment. Draco knows of the arrangements. I assure you dear, don't worry about about a thing. Sweet dreams." And with that, she left me standing in the dining room.

I clenched my fist together, wanting nothing more than to obliviate myself and forget everything that was happening, but alas, I couldn't go through with it. Like the kind, forced houseguest I was, I took the teacups and kettle back into the kitchen to be cleaned when I ran into Dobby.

"Hello Dobby how are you?"

"Hello Miss (y/n), you're always so worried about Dobby, it warms my heart. Dobby's keeping his feet on the ground. Dobby keeps hearing things from Mr. Draco about you."

"I'm sorry but I thought I just heard you saying Draco's been talking about me.."

"Oh dear, Dobby has said too much! Bad Dobby." He reached for the teacup but I stopped him before he could.

"Don't hurt yourself, it'll only make me sad, and I know you hate to see me that way." I bat my lashes.

"Sorry Miss (y/n)..since I've already said too much...Mr. Draco talks about you nicely. He likes your (y/h/c) hair and the way your nose scrunches when you're laughing. Dobby hears him talk to Mr. Crabbe and Goyle about these things and much more.." He shyly looks away, looking up the stairs towards Draco's room.

"Hey, hey, I won't tell him. (y/n) keeps secrets Dobby tells her." I smiled at him.

"Thank you Miss, Dobby likes you much more than his masters."

"I like you more than them too." I gave him a peck on the head and went up the staircase.

I trailed down the hall towards his room. The halls were dimly lit by small candles on the walls, as well as moving paintings on the walls of their family tree. I arrived outside his bedroom, scared out of my mind to knock, but I brought myself to do so. Shortly after knocking, he opened the door to his bedroom. I stood there admiring his night clothes; a fitted white v-neck tee shirt and boxer shorts.

"Are you just going to stand there like a git and gawk or come in?" He smirked.

"I- Uh- Coming in." I slipped past him and stood there, unsure of my next move.

"It's getting late," he shut the door behind him. "You should put on some more comfortable clothing to sleep in."

"Right..oh, my trunk is downstairs. I should go get-"

"It's right here," he pointed towards it. "I brought it up a little bit ago. Didn't want to risk you breaking a nail, I'd never hear the end of it."

I scoffed, walking towards my case. I unbuckled the clasps and opened it to find clothing that didn't belong to me, or so I thought."

I've bought you some more appropriate dressings for your stay with Draco. Enjoy them, I know he will too.

-Mother

I was taken aback by her note. It's like she's asking me to fuck him, and we're not even married yet. She's already desperate for grandchildren, I thought to myself. I rummaged through my new wardrobe and ogled in shock. Lingerie, bodycon dresses, even shorter skirts. Are mothers supposed to be like this?

I picked the least revealing item I could find to sleep in. It was a silk green nightgown with lace detailing on the chest, lingering a little too low on the chest for my liking..but it was the only thing that didn't expose my entire body. I grabbed my toiletry bag and my feet brought me to the bathroom. I peeled off my current attire and put on a new set of panties along with my nightgown. I brushed my hair up in a ponytail and brushed my teeth. Gathering my belongings, I slowly walked out of the bathroom and locked eyes with Draco. Now he was the one gawking at me.

"I know I'm always being a dick but..you look dashing (y/n), really." He said shyly, looking down at his feet as he sat on the bed.

"Thanks..." I wasn't sure how to respond.

I put my dirty clothes and bag on top of my trunk. I scratched the side of my arm in nervousness, not knowing how the sleeping arrangements were going to work, although I had an idea. There was nothing else to sleep on besides Draco's bed. He stared at me with anticipation as if he was waiting for me to join him.

I proceeded to the opposite side of the bed. I peeled back the sheets on my side, snaking my legs underneath. Draco still sat in his place, shifting a bit, but stayed in his current position. I laid down, facing his direction, closing my eyes. Maybe if I kept them closed long enough, I'd eventually fall into a deep slumber without any further conversing with Draco.

I felt the sheets ruffle as he too laid down, I couldn't tell if he was facing my direction or not, but I ignored it. I adjusted my pillow to a more comfortable position. We both laid there, within the same vicinity, completely silent. After a few moments, I peaked my eyes open ever so slightly to find a pair of silver eyes looking deep into my soul. I shuttered, unaware of the fact he was staring at me. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't help myself."

"Couldn't help what?" I asked in confusion.

"Having the pleasure of looking at you," he licked his lips.

"I don't think I understand.."

"My god (y/n)...I never took you for dumb."

I raised an eyebrow, "how am I dumb?"

"Because you can't see it," he paused. "You can't see how madly I'm in love with you...and you can't tell me you don't feel the same." He reached for me chin, grasping it ever so slightly.

I didn't dislike his touch. His hands were ice, melting on my warm skin. His thumb caressed my jaw, heading towards my lips.

"I- I will admit..I do have f-feelings for you, I've been suppressing them..but you make it very convincing that you have a..distaste for me. Ever since we were young.."

"I don't think you understand the common thing about us males...we tease the ones we love," he chuckled.

Not knowing what the hell came over me, I forcibly grabbed his face and slammed my hungry lips onto his.

Taglist: @bbeauttyybbx 

[dameronology]

tea and whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 6

summary: despite his best efforts, it appears as though you're completely slipping through jack's fingers. it appears as though he has no choice but to put everything out on the table in a last ditch attempt to keep you by his side. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of death

this one's a bit of a rollercoaster, but i promise it's fun <3

- jazz xx

You'd told Jack that things between you were fine.

They didn't feel as much.

You had meant it when you'd said it - it was just that the more you thought about it and the more you pondered on your concerns, the more worried you became. Did you even know Jack Daniels at all? His mysteriousness had been attractive at first but the closer you got to him, the more you found yourself wanting to hold him at an arm's length until you had your answers. When the situation between you had been a co-workers-with-benefits affair, it hadn't mattered so much. But now, you'd agreed it was something more intense, something more meaningful. Was it unfair to think that you deserved to know a little more? To get a more substance than just it's fine, trust me?

Whilst you hadn't wanted it to get in the ways of things, you couldn't help it. It hadn't changed anything the first few days after your conversation about where you stood, or about his seeming vendetta against Ginger, but the more you thought about it, the more it got to you. It had been almost 2 weeks since then, and you'd spent most of the second one lying to him. Telling him you had to call Eggsy, or your mum, or that you had to work late to get some paperwork done for Merlin.

Tonight had been no different - it was a Friday, the last six of which you had spent at Jack's. You'd given him some ridiculous waffle about timezones and reporting to the Kingsman. He had seemed to believe it; if he didn't, he'd chosen not to comment on it.

You were sat in your shared office, heels kicked to one side and feet propped up on the table. There was a glass of wine in one hand and your phone in the other (you were exchanging memes with Eggsy), and an episode of the The Crown playing on your computer. It was a nice way of getting your mind off of the situation with Jack, and the fact that you had a mountain of Calahan-related paperwork.

"So, this is the important meeting that you ditched me for?"

You froze at the sound of Jack's voice. He was leant against the doorway, arms folded over his chest and a look on his face that didn't seem too far off of pissed. Your first instinct was to lie, but the urge quickly faded. What was the point? He'd already caught you in one. Might as well just rip it off like a band-aid.

"I lied."

"That's clear as fucking day." Jack shot back. "Am I boring you all of a sudden?"

"Jack." You sighed. "I just needed some space to think."

"I thought we were good?" His brown eyes fell to the floor. "What's with all the lying? I admire your brutal honesty."

"I was only brutally honest with people I didn't mind hurting." You paused your laptop, pulling your feet down from the desk. "I care about you and I don't want to hurt you-"

"- I have pretty thick skin." He cut you off. "Be honest - you have my blessing."

"I thought I was okay with how intense things were getting," you began. "But the more, I think about it, the more I'm not sure."

Jack's face fell. "That's why you've suddenly been distant these past two weeks, huh?"

"Yeah." You nodded.

"What brought this on?"

You were silent.

"I know." Jack sighed. "It's the thing with Ginger, isn't it?"

"Not just that." You said. "You asked me to trust you and I agreed to, but I'm not sure I do."

"What have I ever done to make you not trust me?"

"Nothing, but that's my problem." You replied. "This is all on me."

"It sure as hell is." He sniffed. "If you want space, I'll give you space. Just don't count on me to be here when you get back."

--

The tension in Champ's office the following morning was almost fucking suffocating.

The poor man had no idea what had gone down between the two of you. Heck, even you were struggling to understand it. You'd got yourself into situations before with your tendency to overthink, but this one might have taken the cake. Relationships - or whatever the hell you and Jack had going on - had never been your area of expertise, and you had no idea how to navigate your situation. It had seemed like a good idea to act on your doubt and be honest with him, but now you were just worried that you'd ruined it.

"You two are making excellent progress with your mission to get Calahan." Champ said.

"Thank you, sir." Jack nodded.

"We need to discuss the matter of when you catch him."

"I appreciate your faith in us, but if we catch him, rather than when we catch him might be a little more realistic." You replied.

"I'm not certain of many things, but I am absolutely sure that you and Jack have this in the bag." Champ shot back. "And when you do, I'm afraid there is only room for one name on the arrest forms."

You sat up in your seat. "What do you mean?"

"I know that you two have made a completely join effort in this matter." He began. "But as far as Interpol, and every international agency has seen it, only one person's name can be on the paperwork."

"But we can both take credit, right?" You urged. "Surely, they can recognise us both for our work."

"I'm afraid not, Percy." Champ sighed. "The paperwork can only be processed under one name-"

"- why?" Jack cut him off. "I mean, why, sir?"

"Traditionally, only one agent would go into the field, to keep the casualties as low as possible." He explained. "Things have changed in practice but on paper, things still stand."

"So what are we meant to do?" You asked.

"You'll have to decide between yourselves who gets that recognition." He replied.

"Right." You murmured and stood up. "Thank you, sir."

Champ gave you a nod. "And you, agent. I'm sorry it has to be this way."

Me too, you thought.

You stalked out of Champ's office, Jack hot on your heels. If things had been a little tense before, they were going to be strangling now. The cowboy was already hurt by your revelation from the night before, and now, that was only going to get worst, because there was no way in hell that you were about to give the reins over to him. You'd make it clear from day one that your job came first, so that shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone.

Heels clicking loudly against the floor, you sped up slightly in an attempt to lose him. It had been foolish, though, because before you could sprint into the ladies' room, Jack grabbed you by the arm and pulled you to the side.

"Lying to me and running away from me?" He asked. "You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You swatted his hand away and puffed out your chest. "I'm taking credit for Calahan."

Jack thinned his eyes at you. "We should talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about." You said. "I chased his ass all the across the Atlanic and I've been working on this project longer than you. Personal feelings aside, it makes sense."

"It sounds like you're saying you've done most the work."

"That is what I'm saying."

"I've done most the physical work." He shot back. "The chasing, the jumping over walls, the field work."

"None of which you could have done without me."

"Is this because of what I said last night? Are you mad?" He asked.

"No, I'm mad because you know how much this means to me!" You shoved him. "A win like this is all I've ever wanted. You know that!"

"It means a lot to me too!"

"I am putting my name on those papers." You snapped. "I've spent my whole life living in the fucking shadows at Kingsman and I'm tired of it. This is my win."

"With an attitude like that, I don't blame the damn redcoats for wanting to keep you in the shadows."

Your mouth fell open. If that had come from anyone else, you could have dealt with it. But Jack? The man who had always encouraged and loved your fire? The man you'd opened up to about how suffocated you felt at Kingsman? It was though he'd thrown your trust right back in your face.

"Wait, I didn't mean that-"

"- fuck you, Jack."

--

Drinking was, essentially, the thing that had gotten you into this whole situation in the first place. It was this very bar, in fact.

It was beyond you why you'd gone to Jack's favourite cowboy bar to simmer; probably because it was the closest thing you could get to actually being in his presence right now. Which was quite funny, because if you were in his presence, you no doubt would have decked him right there and then. His stupid fucking words were playing on a loop in your head, and it felt like a punch to your gut every time they circled back around your pre-fontal cortex.

You could have called Eggsy and vented to him, but that would involve recounting the whole story to him. He'd want to whoop Jack's ass for going near you in the first place, and eject him into outer space entirely for his petty jab. God, you missed your best friend.

Despite your anger, you hadn't even drank that much. Maybe a beer, or three - way below the amount you needed to even get tipsy. Drunken rage barely did you favours at the best of times, and right now was definitely the worst of times. It was just that sitting in a bar was a much better alternative to wallowing in your pity, alone in your larger-than-life apartment.

You sighed and took another sip of your drink, glancing over at your phone. There were three texts from Jack; a please call me, a I'll explain everything and a I fucked up, I know. You couldn't help but snort - what reason did he even have for talking to you that way?

With a twenty tossed on the bar and an empty glass, you shrugged your jacket on and began the walk back to your apartment. The air was cold and everyone was rushing around you to get back to their own respective homes. You had never wanted more in your life to go back to yours - your home in London. The one filled with pictures of you and your family, with memories of dumb sleepovers with Eggsy and late nights with your favourite films.

"So you're stalking me now?"

You could't muster up any other words when you saw Jack waiting by your door. Apparently his ignored texts and calls hadn't been a big enough sign.

"I didn't know where you were." Jack murmured.

"I was out." You shoved your way past him. "You can go now."

"We need to talk."

"Not right now." You groaned. "I'm tired, no thanks to you."

"I don't like when things are like this." He continued, following you inside as you unlocked the door. "I can't stand the idea of you being mad at me."

"So why do you do shit that makes me mad?" You shot back.

Jack sighed, leaning against your kitchen earlier. "I shouldn't have said what I did earlier. I was hurt-"

"- you were hurt?!" You snorted in disbelief.

"It fucking killed me when you said that you didn't trust me, sugar." He admitted. "I get why. I've been holding a lot of stuff back from you and I...I don't think it'll excuse my behaviour, but it might at least give you a reason."

"Okay." You murmured.

"I've barely told anyone this, but I trust you." He reached out and took your hands in his. "It's a lot."

"Jack, you don't have to-"

"- I used to be married." He cut you off. You froze at his words. "Her name was Georgia, and we'd been in love since high-school."

"I..." you trailed off. "Used to be?"

"She was killed in a shoot-out during a robbery." Jack's voice wavered slightly. "She was pregnant at the time. I lost two people that day."

"Shit." You murmured. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"It's fine." He replied. "Not your fault, sweetheart."

"Who else knows?"

"Ginger." He said. "She was a friend of mine, long before we were at Statesman. Georgia's best friend, too."

"You're trying to protect her, aren't you?" You glanced up, eyes meeting. "By keeping her out the field?"

"It's a shitty excuse." He half-heartedly shrugged. "She's all I have left of Georgia. The only person who really shares my pain."

Jack was right -- it hadn't been an excuse, but it was an explanation. You couldn't even begin to get your head around the kind of pain he must have felt then, or even the kind he felt now. You'd had weeks worth of deep conversations and late-night talks but he had never, ever even remotely mentioned Georgia, or his unborn child. You couldn't blame him for that. Not in the slightest.

You were struggling to find the words, really. A thousand new layers had just been added to a man you were already struggling to understand.

"That must be a real weight on your shoulders."

"It is." Jack nodded. "But it lifts slightly when I'm with you."

"Really?" You asked quietly.

"Completely." He countered. "That's all I've wanted my entire life -- to feel again, and I do with you."

"That's deep." You tried to crack a joke, to lighten the mood.

"Even if this ends when you go back to London, I'm still grateful." He continued. "You gave me that, so I should give you what you've always wanted."

"A real-life Batmobile?"

Jack snorted, despite the emotional atmosphere. "Your name will have to go on those papers. It should never have even been a question."

"Jack, I-"

"- that's all there is to say." He shook his head. "There'll be other arrests and missions, but I'll never find someone like you."

Without anything to say, you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. That in itself said everything you needed to- thank you, I'm sorry, maybe you don't suck that much, etc. The entire conversation marked a definitive shift in your relationship, and even though it was one that neither of you could quite work out, that didn't matter. You'd thrown yourself back into the deep end, even though you'd been so hell-bent on breaking to the surface just hours earlier.

There was no doubt that it would only complicated the whole let's not fall in love promise you'd made -- but that was something to worry about later, right?

taglist: @b0nnyzz @xremember-me-notx @somenerdyuser @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @javisjeanjacket @phoenixhalliwell @no-droids-on-sunday​ @paintballkid711​ @waatermelon-sugaar​ @hepburnwritess​ @haileyybird​ @xjaywritesx​ @jabbajambler​ @the-mandalorian-clone-lover​ @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @wickedmuse​

[weelittleweasley]

Friendly Game | Draco x Reader

Prompt requested by anon: You and Draco were both stars on the Slytherin quidditch team, but after getting too aggressive in a game, you find yourself taking a nasty blow, causing Draco to get a little too overprotective.

Warnings: Reader getting injured, fluff

Word Count:��2.1k (short and sweet)

Standing in the tunnel to the field, you can hear the crowd cheering and chanting, your adrenaline pumping as you fiddle with your broom in your hands. You just wanted to get out there and start the match against Gryffindor. This match was something you’ve been looking forward to for weeks. “Awfully fidgety today, aren’t we, darling?” your boyfriend says, standing next to you. You roll your eyes at Draco before he gives your hand a squeeze, placing a kiss to your knuckles through the glove. “No need to be anxious. You’ll be brilliant.”

Smiling sweetly at Draco, you lean over, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you hear Lee Jordan call out your team’s name, the Slytherin section going absolutely mad. The tunnel opens and all of you run out, yelling, before hoping on your brooms and taking to the skies. Playing quidditch was the one time you felt like you were truly free at this school. You could zip around, flying as fast as you wanted, not to mention, you could “accidentally” knock into a few Gryffindors and get away with it. 

Today’s game was big or at least it was big to Draco which made it big to you. Everyone knew about Draco’s vendetta against Harry Potter which meant that you had a vendetta against him. Draco knew that the competition between him and Potter was always on, but heightened on the field.

As you looked over to Draco, he glared at Potter who glared back just as intensely as him. You smiled at the sight, your heart racing, waiting for Madam Hooch to start the game. Shortly after that, the game starts with a roar, everyone zipping along the field, you focused on getting into an open spot on the field to making a successful pass to another Chaser on your team.

The match was not an easy one. Gryffindor players were very skilled and played a fair game. But that didn’t mean that Slytherin had to. Over the years, you learned a few tips and tricks from Crabbe and Goyle about a few moves you could pull during the match that wouldn’t be considered a foul. 

During the game, you watched as Ginny Weasley started approaching the Slytherin end of the field, approaching the rings. You glance over to Zabini, who nods, having the same idea as you. The two of you start to zip over to the Weasley girl, narrowing in on her from either side. Ginny looks at the both of you, anxiety settling in, trying to escape from what she knows is inevitable. You laugh menacingly before you and Blaise physically knock into her from either side, forcing the Quaffle out of her grasp, body blowing her . As it falls to the ground, Ginny groans, almost being knocked off of her broom. 

Ron Weasley yells from his keeper position, “What the bloody hell was that all about?” You just give him a look and shrug before noticing Harry who just watched the scene that unfolded before his eyes. Ron looks at Harry who looks at Ginny, who struggles to regain her balance on her broom. Harry then abandons trying to capture the golden snitch and zooms to Ginny, making sure that she’s alright.

You don’t waste any time, fleeing the scene cause the longer you stay, the more guilty you look. You continue along with Zabini, checking other Chasers, twirling to avoid Bludgers. The game was not dying down in intensity, instead only rising with each passing moment. Players were getting more and more aggressive, treading a fine line between basic fouls and trick moves. Bludgers were zooming, past people, hitting others, attempting to knock others off their brooms, players skillfully dodging them. Things were going so quick, you couldn’t keep up, slightly overwhelmed. 

As you fly in formation behind Zabini and next to Crabbe, you keep your head low, hands firmly gripping your broom. Merlin, Malfoy, can’t you capture the snitch already so we can end the bloody game? you think to yourself. Too enthralled with your thoughts, you don’t even notice the Bludger that is hurling towards you at maximum speed that an opposing player had hit towards you. 

“(Y/L/N)! Watch out!” you hear a voice yell. You turn toward the Bludger, it hitting you right in the ribs, knocking you off your boom as the wind gets knocked out of you. Everyone stops where there are on the field as they watch you take the nasty blow, dropping off of your broom at least 4 meters from the ground. The crowd gasps as you hit the ground, crying out in pain. You curl up into a ball, grabbing your ribs in pain. If the Bludger didn’t break a rib, the fall definitely did. 

Madam Hooch blows her whistle, bringing the game to a halt. Meanwhile, Draco and Harry stopped where they were, chasing the snitch, hearing the whistle. “What’s going on?” Harry looked below him, seeing a green robed quidditch player on the field, laying on the ground with Hooch and other hovering over the player. “It’s one of yours,” Potter sneers.

Draco gives him a look before squinting to see who exactly it was who got themselves injured, disturbing the game. His eyes quickly recognize your figure and his heart drops, fear setting in. “No, no, no,” Draco says before zooming down to the field instantly, flying at the speed of light. Within in seconds, Draco is off his broom and on his knees next to you. “Darling, are you alright?” he holds one of your hands, the other brushing your hair as he inspects your face, scanning for any blood or bruises that stick out to him. He then notices your face contort in pain as you clutch onto your left side, you shaking from the pain rippling in your rib cage. His worry grows as he sees you writhe in pain. His worry then turns into sheer anger when he knows this was a Gryffindor doing. Draco rises from the ground and demands, “Which one of you blokes did it?”

Other Gryffindors turn away, leaving Jimmy Peakes standing there, gulping in fear about what the Slytherin was going to do to him since he was the one who delivered the blow to his girlfriend. “I didn’t mean it, Malfoy, I swear, I’m sorry. We were having a friendly game,” Peakes tries to reason with the blonde haired boy who has steam coming from his ears.

Malfoy stomps over to Peakes, grabbing him by the collar. “Friendly game?! I don’t think so. And it’s too late for excuses, you bloody twat. She’s hurt still, isn’t she? You think an apology is gonna mend a broken rib?” he spits in the Gryffindor’s face. “Since you broke her rib, that means I get to break you.”

Before Draco can even raise his fist, Madam Hooch stops him. “Oi! The last thing we need are more unnecessary injuries on the field,” she demands as Draco lets Peakes’ collar go, giving him a great shove before Draco returns to your side on the ground. “(Y/N), we’re gonna get you to Madam Pomfrey right away,” Madam Hooch tells you as you nod your head, in far too much pain to speak anything other than groan in pain or suck in a sharp breath which only causes more pain to erupt from your ribs.

You look next to you as Draco offers you a sorry smile, brushing you hair as Madam Pomfrey tells the teams playing that the match will have to continue at another time. The crowd boos in disappointment. The pain in your side is so overwhelming that you see your vision becoming spotty. “Dray,” you manage you speak as he nods, attentively listening to you, ready to get you anything you needed. Before you can talk to your boyfriend, your eyes feel heavy and the sounds around you begin to die down. You can feel yourself actively losing consciousness from the pain, slowly letting your eyes fall shut.

This only makes Draco go into a full panic. He looks around at his teammates watching you lay there. “Well, don’t just stand there, you stupid blokes! Get her a medic!” he yells before turning his attention back towards you, giving you hand a little squeeze. “You’ll be alright, darling. I promise.”

------

Slowly peeling your eyes open, you rub them to focus them, taking in the change of environment. You’re in a bed in the hospital wing, white sheets covering you and your entire chest is wrapped in beige colored gauze. You turn to your right and see Draco sitting on a stool next to your bed, making you lightly smile. Of course, he was next to you the entire time, making sure you were safe and sound. You attempt to sit up straight which only disturbs the pain again, waves shooting up your left side. You wince as Draco jumps to his feet, helping you sit up gently making sure that you don’t shift anything out of place. “Easy there, tiger,” he speaks, a teasing smile dancing across his lips. “There we go.” You peel the covers off your top half as Draco drapes a Slytherin jumper over your shoulders, making sure that you were staying warm. “Madam Pomfrey took good care of you. But she said that you’ll be out of playing for the next two to three weeks,” Draco informs you, making you groan. “You need time to proper the heal.”

“Brilliant,” you groan. “We would have won today if it weren’t for bloody Peakes,” you complain, pulling the Slytherin sweater around you tighter. A small smirk plays on Draco’s lips as he looks at you. “Oh, no. What did you do to the bloke?” you ask him to ‘fess up.

Draco raises his arms in defense. “Nothing,” he tells you as you give him a look knowing that Draco didn’t let the kid walk free after what happened. “Maybe a bloody nose. Maybe it broke in the process of me punching him...” he trails off as you slap his shoulder lightly. “What? That was generous of me. If I had it my way, he would be sat in the bed next to you.”

You shake your head. “You can’t get into fights over me, love. It’s sweet, but I can defend myself. Besides, if Madam Hooch finds out about your alteration with Peakes, you could face suspension from the team,” you tell him, reaching out to stroke his cheek with your hand as he leans into it, kissing the palm gently as if to not hurt your fragile state. 

He sighs, “No, I won’t get suspended. But I did get a month of detention.” Your gentle smile drops into a knowing look and you let out an exasperated sigh. “It was well worth it though.”

No matter what you told him, Draco was always protective over you. He knew well enough you could protect yourself and fight your own battles, but he liked avenging you. He like the power trip he would get when he would put someone in their place after messing with you. You showed more mercy than Draco did, of course, but after Draco had his way with the person, they never seemed to bother you again. It was an odd way of expressing his love, but it was sweet to you nonetheless. Although the situation at hand was crummy, at least you knew Draco had your back and would be the first person to jump to your defense. 

Scooting over in the hospital bed, you pat the space next to you as Draco smiles like a child on Christmas morning. He climbs in next to you, careful not to touch your sides in fear that you would shriek in pain. You laid your head on his chest, draping your arm over his torso. He rested his head on top of yours, carefully wrapping his free arm around you, drawing small circles on your back. You took a steady breath in, inhaling his perfume, the scent immediately washing over you, calming you. Draco pressed gentle kisses to your head, allowing himself to relax into the bed, knowing you were safe at his side. He would stay here as long as you wanted him to, not bothering to go back to his dormitory where his friends waited for him. He would stay right here by your side in case you needed absolutely anything. 

“You know that I would do absolutely anything for you,” he says as a statement rather than a question. “I would run to the ends of the world if you asked me to.”

Lightly laughing, you look up at him. “I know you would,” you assure him. “And I would do the same for you.” He smiled down at you, kissing the tip of your nose. You cuddled back into his chest, knowing that in this moment this was the safest you have ever felt.

[scarofthewind]

Love Letters || V x Reader

A/N: I love this movie with all my being and decided to write for V from ‘V for Vendetta’. Hope you all enjoy.

Warnings: Hurt-comfort, mentions of abuse, foul language

word count: 1.6k Tip Jar (every bit helps)

The sound of your bare feet hitting the ground echoed through the dark street. It was far too late for anyone to be out, but here you were, running from yet another abusive lover who had taken a bad day out on you. For years you’d been receiving strange letters from a man you had no recollection of. He called himself, ‘V’, which he signed so neatly at the bottom of every letter. Sometimes he wrote to you multiple times a week, other times it was only a few in a month. In either cases, you always looked forward to that small envelope with a dried wax seal on the back. You always wrote back and watched as the mailman came to pick up the letter with no destination; yet V always managed to receive them. 

It’s like I’ve known you my whole life, V. Even though I don’t know what you look like or who you are, I know you. I wish there was a way I could be with you, but I’m afraid of what he’d do if he found out how I feel for you. He destroyed the wonderful roses you gave me, burnt them all but I managed to save some of the petals....

I hope to see you one day, maybe that day you can take me away from here to that beautiful place you were talking about the last time you wrote me....what I would give to simply hear your voice call out to me....

With all my heart, (Y/N)

The letters were always full of wonderful stories that made even your worst days, better; they were all locked in a wooden box you kept hidden until your newest lover found them and destroyed them all. You cried and tried your hardest to fight for even one, but that only ended with you getting stuck across the face and the urge to run coursing through your veins. Your heart ached for the desire to be held by the one man you knew would never lay a finger on you in such a way. There were many nights when you would lie in bed and dream about V, seeking comfort in the man you didn’t know.

My dear, I apologize for not writing to you sooner, my days grow crazier by the second but rest assured, when I think of you, everything is clear. 

I hate how much you get hurt by these men and I promise you, one day I’ll save you from their vile hands. I promise to only ever give you love and the passion you have never known. That day will be soon and I swear to you, (Y/N), I will take care of you.

V

 “Come back!” You heard your lover yell and you ducked into an alleyway, your heart hammering in your chest. You cupped your throbbing cheek, knowing very well it was wet with blood from the rings on his finger catching the skin there. You shivered from the cold night air and saw your breath in smoke around you when you exhaled, pressing against a wall and hoping he’d pass. “You can’t hide from me, I’ll find you sooner or later.” He growled, kicking a trash can and sending it flying around the corner opposite of you. You held your breath, hoping he would go away soon and wishing that you life had been better. 

Your eyes stayed trained on the night sky, wondering if V was looking at the same moon you were and feeling your heart break at a horrible thought. There would be no more letters, no more sweet words from the only man who’d ever said them to you; no more flowers, no more nights when you felt a little less lonely. Tears flooded down your face as you realized this was it; the sound of a gun cocking coming from your lover who was nothing but a monster. He would kill you and V would never know that the light of his life had been ripped from him. 

You ran down the end of the alley, turning another corner and sliding down the wall in submission. You couldn’t get out; there wasn’t an out for people like you. This was all you’ve ever known so of course just as you thought it would get better, everything goes to waste. “I’m so sorry, V.” You whispered, hearing him near you and feeling the barrel of the gun press against your head. 

“Fucking whore, I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” He growled, kicking you to the side and enjoying the cries you gave. “That guy who wrote you those letters, you think he’d want someone like you?” You tried to block his foot as it came into contact with your stomach but you weren’t as strong as him. Your pleas did nothing but make him laugh as he kicked you again and again until you started coughing blood onto the stoned pavement. 

You gasped for air as the metallic taste filled your mouth, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision as you looked up at the man. “He loves me,” You sobbed and watched as he knelt before you, feigning pity. 

“I think I can speak for him and say that he most certainly doesn’t. I loved you, but you ruined everything.” He scoffed and pressed the gun against your head. 

“I speak for myself,” Another voice echoed in the alley and your head snapped up, eyes straining to see the figure who was standing a few feet away. Your lover stood up and faced him, keeping the gun pointed at you. “And you most certainly did not love her. You abused her to the point where she fell in love with another.” Coming into the light, you let out a gasp seeing the masked male; he titled his head to look down at you and tipped his hat. 

“Hello, my love, pardon me for my interruption but I do believe it’s time we go.” He said calmly, clicking his tongue in annoyance when your lover shoved the gun to your head. 

“V,” You let out a breathy sound of panic, locking eyes with the masked man and watching him pull out a knife. 

“To the right, please.” He said to you and you sent him a questioning look but understood when he threw the knife at your lover. You rolled to the side just in time as the bullet flew off the ground where you just had been, the sound deafening you. Pressing your hands against your ears, you cried out from the painful ringing in them, the pain in your body from being kicked ran through you like liquid fire, burning every part of your muscles alive. 

And then, as if everything became clear, a pair of gloved hands cupped your face, making you open your eyes. “I should’ve never let it amount to this, I hope you can forgive me-”

V had no time to respond before you tackled him in a tight hug, knocking his hat off and causing him to sit instead of kneel. He wasted no time in hugging you back, feeling your body tremble and shake in his grasp. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know that, right?” He said to you gently and you cried harder, nodding your head in response. V could feel the movement against his shoulder and hummed, “I’m here now, my love, I’m sorry I took so long.”

Pulling back, he cupped your face again, wiping the tears away. “You saved me.” You sniffled, touching the mask gently. “You did what you said you’d do so there’s no need for you to apologize.” V stared at you deeply and you felt him start to get up, offering you a hand to which you grabbed. 

“I’m going to take you away from here, you will never know pain like this ever again, and I will make sure I spend every waking breath filling your life with all that you deserve.” He spoke to you as you stood, grimacing at the pain in your abdomen. “I’m taking you home, to the place you should’ve been all along.”

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go.” You shivered against the cold air, letting V drape his coat over your shoulders. As you both started to walk, stepping over your ex-lover’s body, you stared at the masked man in wonder and need. It wasn’t until you made it out of the alleyways and into the moonlit street, that you paused. 

“V?” Your voice wavered a bit as your nerves grew and the man stopped, turning towards you in concern. 

“We must keep moving-”

“Kiss me.” Your breath sent a cloud up with how cold it was and V touched your cheek gently. “I’ve longed for you all these years,” You said, tracing the features on the mask and feeling his hand circle around your wrist. “Please.” Your eyes flickered to his and you could see the strain he was trying to put on himself slowly breaking off. 

And then it happened. He didn’t take the mask off fully, but he lifted it enough to press his warm lips against your cold ones and that was enough. He kept his lips against yours for a moment before pulling back and moving the mask back, grabbing your hand and placing it on his arm. “That should keep you satisfied until we reach home.” You blushed at his words but held onto his arm, your heart content with finally being with the man you loved. 

There would never be another letter, but there wasn’t a need for one; he was with you now and there was nothing in the world that could tear you away from him. 

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

A Witchy Kinda Love

Pairing: Witch!Bucky x Witch!Reader (Magic!AU)

Prompt: The world you lived in was known to be full of magic and strange, otherworldly things... But you knew true love was just an old witch's tale even if your familiar insisted otherwise...

Warnings: swearing, fluff, Bucky in cute outfits, way too much italicization, and also this thing is long as fuck. (10,410 words...oopsies)

A/N: Okay this got wayyyy outta hand but who the fuck cares? not me. I would love to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to @buckybarney​ who helped a lot in giving me the confidence and drive to finish this fic as well as @smutsonian​ who created this dope as mood board and also helped me edit a lil bit. You guys make me so happy and I love and appreciate you both so much<3

✸ ✴ ✦ 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

“Calcifer will you please come help me with this?” your exasperated voice could be heard from the balcony of your studio apartment as you struggled to balance the hoard of glass bottles in your arms. 

Not a moment later, a small fox came trotting onto the (very overgrown) terrace, “Ya know I have things to do too. I’m not your butler,” 

You scoffed at your familiar's grumbled complaint before handing him a couple bottles to hold in his mouth and wrap his tail around, “I know you’re not my butler Cal. But I got you that essence of toad the other day so the least you could do is help me organize my potion materials for a bit.” 

The fox let out a low growl and walked back into your small apartment while you followed behind him, “You know how hard it is for me to form opposable thumbs lady? It’s gonna take a lot more than essence of toad for me to comply,” 

You glared playfully at the fox before sighing and rolling your eyes, knowing exactly what the sly creature was trying to get you to do, “Calcifer if you want pheasant for dinner just ask,” 

There was no response, just the quiet clinking of bottles rolling to the floor as you and your partner began to sort through everything. You really need to start organizing your stuff better. Last week you mixed up your newt toes with skinks and almost blew up your home, so it’s safe to say that your clutter has hit a breaking point. You left Calcifer to sit on your frameless bed as he sorted your bottles to go back out onto your small terrace, breathing in the scent of all of your plants that had happily covered every inch they possibly could. You figured it was as good a time as any to harvest all the herbs you’d need for the month and bottle them up for safe keeping. Quietly humming to yourself, you went around plucking the healthiest looking leaves, sprigs, and sprouts you could find, setting each pile onto the antique writers desk you had put out there as a space for your potion making. 

“Hey Calcifer do you know where I put my Ever-Writing Quill?” You question, brows furrowing as you dig through the drawers of your desk. 

“You don’t remember? You sat on it last week and snapped it in half!” The fox’s response was followed by a string of cackles and snorts as he laughed to himself about your misfortune. 

You let out a loud groan of frustration, tilting your head to the sky and stomping your foot in a small childish fit. “Why didn’t you put it on my shopping list?” You ask, walking back inside to glare at the creature comfortably sitting on your bed. 

Calcifer smiled widely, his pointy teeth fully on show in a sly grin, “oopsies, my bad!” he raised what would be his paws but are now little hands due to his helpful transfiguration powers, and held them in an innocent shrug. 

You squint your eyes at the reynard but hold your tongue, shoving your feet into a pair of leather boots. “Come on, you’re coming with me to the market so I can get a new quill,” 

It didn’t take too long before you had gathered everything you needed, making sure to grab your sweater as the weather hadn’t gotten much warmer in the past months and you absolutely hated to be cold. It only took a stern glare and a threat to have salad for dinner to convince Calcifer to go with you. Though you didn’t miss the petty and painful nip to your calf as you walked out of your door and into the dank hallway of your apartment building. 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

The sky was colored a dark grey with intimidating clouds, blocking out any chance of sun or warmth as you walked down the streets of your small town. You passed by cute little shops and a restaurant or two as you made your way to the market. Your boots stomped loudly on the cobblestone walkway, echoed by the light clicking of Calcifier’s nails while he trotted beside you. 

Your town didn’t have many witches, but the non-magic residents were still fully supportive of you and all the other witches and warlocks that resided in the small rainy town of Adelaide. You had lived there for years and not once had you come in contact with what your community called “Salamers”, bigoted people who had hate filled vendettas against your kind. Many of your friends who had lived in bigger cities had told you about their horror stories involving bigoted people who had cursed (pun intended) and swore at them. Your friend Peter even told you about a man who had spit on him after finding out he was a witch. 

The thoughts of such hateful actions caused a crease in your brow to form and it didn’t leave until you were at the small stone entrance to Wanda’s Magickal Menagerie, the only entrance to the market for miles. It was one of your favourite things about the magical world. The outside looked like just another building with pretty stone walls and a worn wooden sign displaying the name, but to anyone with a high enough magical presence, it was an entrance to the biggest market in the wiccan world. Hundreds of vendors were beyond that door, hidden away to a different space and time by a carefully constructed spell performed by the most powerful witches in existence. 

You couldn’t help the excited pulse of your heart as you opened the door and stepped into what seemed like an entirely different universe. The hustle and bustle of busy shoppers instantly clouded your vision and ears. The air was warm and lighting low in the crowded alleyway that led to the entrance and exit of the marketplace. You took only a moment to get used to the different surroundings before setting off on your way to the real Wanda’s Magickal Menagerie. 

It only took a few steps before you heard the loud yip of pain from your familiar, instantly making you whip around to see what happened, “I hate it here, Y/n! Everyone steps on my tail, it smells weird, It’s dark, everything is all muted because apparently witches only like the color red and I’m colorblind-” 

“Alright ya baby c’mere,” you interrupted Cal’s whining, bending down and allowing him to jump up and wrap around your shoulders. 

“People have no respect for familiars, it’s so uncool,” he grumbled into your ear, resting his snout on the ridge of your shoulder. 

“I know, buddy. But you know how much I hate going out alone. I really appreciate you coming with me. When we’re done here we can go to the butcher and you can pick out what bird you want for tonight,” Your hand came up to softly scratch your friend behind his ear, soothing his nerves and continuing on your way to your final destination. 

It didn’t take long before you arrived at a small wooden hut, a modest sign with an address hanging out front for advertisement to passersby. You quickly approached the shop and pushed the door open, entering the cozy and familiar atmosphere of Wanda’s business. 

“Hey Y/n! Cally, hi baby!” Your entrance was met immediately with happy greetings from your long time friend. 

“Hey Wanda,” you and Calcifer greet in unison, smiles adorning both your faces. 

The red headed witch skipped towards you, wrapping you in a warm hug and lovingly petting the fox around your shoulders. “How’ve you guys been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” 

“We’ve been trying to declutter the apartment. Y/n’s become such a hoarder.” Calcifer blurts out, letting one of his signature cackles break free. 

“I am not! I’ve just been experimenting with my potions, so I have a lot more ingredients and supplies right now,” You hurriedly explain, not wanting to have your friend think of you as a crazy old witch with a hoarding problem. 

Wanda lets out a quiet giggle at the pair of friends in front of her, finding the relationship between you and your familiar adorable, “What brings you in today? Did you lose your monkey paw again?” 

You playfully roll your eyes at Wanda, “No, I uh... I broke my Ever-Writing Quill,” you admit, trying to fight the warmth that crept up your neck and cheeks. 

Wanda let out a quick burst of laughter before turning around and leading you through the many shelves and tables of her shop, “Come on, I just got a fresh shipment in,”

✸ ✴ ✦ 

“Thanks Wanda! I’ll see you and Vis for brunch on Sunday,” You smile and give your friend a kiss on the cheek goodbye before exiting her shop. 

“Alright Cal, is there anything else you need before we go? Do you want me to get you more fur oil? Are you good on that incense you like?” 

“Yeah I think I’m okay, at this point I just want food,” He grumbled, lifting his head up from your shoulder and sniffing the air. 

You nodded your head in understanding and began the trip back to where you first entered the marketplace. The walkways were absolutely packed; it was nearly impossible to keep from bumping into other shoppers. Calcifer could be heard grumbling profanities every time someone brushed or bumped against him. You couldn’t blame the poor creature, he was naturally anxious and didn’t like strangers, so making trips like these were never too fun for him. You were trying your best to avoid people, but luck was against you and as you were ducking out of the way of one man who looked exactly like Merlin, you ended up running right into someone else. 

You fell right to the floor, Calcifer tumbling from your shoulder and sliding a few feet away due to the force, “Ah! Calcifer? Cal are you okay?” 

“Shit! are you okay? I didn’t see you, I am so sorry,”

Ignoring the stranger above, you frantically look around for your lost friend and spot him a few feet away from you, curling up into a scared orange ball and shoving his snout under his hind leg to hide. You scramble over to him, scooping his small body into your arms and holding onto him tightly, “Oh Calcifer I’m so sorry! I should have never asked you to come with me, I know you hate it here and now look what happened,” 

You couldn’t help the stress induced tears that welled in your eyes as you pet the shaking fox in your arms, “I’m okay, Y/n. Just a little shaken,” His voice was quiet and you knew he wasn’t being completely honest but you knew getting out of the crowded place was more important at that point. 

A tall figure suddenly shadowed over you, making you cower out of instinct and scoot back a few paces, “Hey are you and your fox okay? Really, I didn’t see you. I should have been paying more attention, let me help you up,” A hand comes down offering to lift you from the dirty concrete. 

With one arm tightly holding onto Calcifer, you use your other hand to grab onto the strangers and lift yourself up. “Thanks,” You mumble out quickly, keeping your head down and immediately walking away, your mind completely focused on getting the hell out of these cursed alleyways. 

Once you had fallen out of the exit and back onto the cobblestone streets of Adelaide, you could finally take a deep breath. Leaning up against the cold stone wall near the entrance, you closed your eyes, sucking in the fresh air and gently petting the creature still firmly gripped in your arms. 

A choked cry escapes you suddenly, “I am so sorry Calcifer,” You absolutely hated that you had caused your friend such a terrible experience. He could’ve gotten hurt, someone could’ve stolen him away from you, the street was so crowded you would’ve never found him again! Calcifer would’ve never forgiven you! Might not even forgive you now! Just the thought of it- 

“Alright calm down kid... I’m perfectly fine. Paw hurts a little bit but, really, I’m okay,” the fox in your arms looked up at you, a small smile on his snout as he nuzzled into your hair. 

“Are you sure? I can take you to the vet-” Before you can continue to worry about the injured animal, a deep voice sounds from above you. 

“Uh hey...” 

You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and look up, eyes widening in surprise as you stare into steely iris’s that seemed to have a mission on copying the sky that day. “H-hello,” 

As you stared at the burly looking man in front of you, you couldn’t help but side eye his stature. Adorning all black with little glints of silver rings and buckles here and there, a few tiny scars marking his well-structured jaw and cheek bones, and good god those boots must be so heavy and-is that a metal hand peeking out from the long sleeve of his leather jacket?! This guy is too scary to be this attractive...

“I uh... I was the one to bump into you earlier. It’s totally my fault and I really didn’t mean for you to drop your fox like that-it’s just that my familiar took off and I just wasn’t paying attention and it seemed like a pretty bad fall and you were so focused on protecting your pet-” “He’s not a pet,” you spit out quickly, a stern glare etched into your features. 

“R-right, right sorry-I just-I was-I misspoke...” he trailed awkwardly, roughly dragging a hand through brunette hair and grimacing at his own failure to compose a sensible response. 

“Are you a witch?” you mumble out quietly, your glare softening into a more apprehensive, yet curious, stare. 

“Uh yeah, yeah I’m only entry level though. My friend Sam helped me get into the market so I could get a few things but then...ya know” 

You stood silently, not exactly sure of what this weirdo wanted from you. If he thought you were going to apologize he was very mistaken. What if he planned to rob you? To take Calcifer and run? The thought made your grip on the animal even more secure, if that were even possible. 

“Is your arm okay?” Worried eyes gazed down at your arm and the man took a small step forward. 

“What?” You try to flinch away from the soft grasp of his hand around your bicep, but only end up pushing yourself against the wall. 

The man inspected the inflamed scrape that burned a path along your forearm and up to your elbow, “That looks pretty bad doll, do you want some medicine? I think I might have a little with me. Hey Sibi!” 

“Holy shit!” A sharp intake of breath forced its way into your lungs as you saw a giant white wolf bound up to the man. Your breathing sped up, heartbeat following along with it as you gazed upon the giant beast. 

“Do you mind? I gotta get into my bag,” He asked gently, the wolf immediately turning to give him easy access to a large pack that was slung over her back, “Thanks Sibi, can you go find Sam? Tell him I’ll be a bit longer than expected,” The wolf let out a gruff noise of agreement and nodded it’s head before heading back through the magical entrance. 

The man turned back around and walked towards you once more. You didn’t flinch this time when he reached for your arm, careful to make sure you had a good grip on Cal before opening a bottle of light blue gel and tapping some out onto the palm of his hand, “My name is Bucky, by the way,” 

“Okay,” you mumble out awkwardly, your anxious nature getting the best of you and blocking any form of friendly communication to come across while Bucky covers your wound with the gel.

“Her name is Y/n, I’m Calcifer,” You stare down incredulously at the fox, not expecting him to introduce you to this stranger. 

Bucky smiled up at you and the fox, shiny white teeth on display, “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” 

The comment instantly made your face heat up in embarrassment. “Thank y-you...” 

Bucky straightened up after he was done dressing your wound, thankfully taking a step back to give you some space. Why wasn’t he leaving? Why did he care so much about some rando he ran into at the market? Maybe this was just a front to try and rob you...

“Well uh... I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed real spooked back there and I could tell you hurt your arm so I just wanted to check up on ya,” Bucky’s eyes shined brightly as he explained himself. A pink tint colored his cheeks and neck as he sheepishly stared down at the ground. 

His shy nature made your lips tilt into a small smile of your own and you couldn’t help thinking about how cute he looked like that, “thank you, that’s very kind,” you mumbled out.

There was a beat of silence as you and Bucky avoided each other's eye contact before a familiar patronizing voice interrupted, “Hey kid if you’re done flirtin’ with this guy can we go home? I’m starvin’ right now,” 

“Calcifer!” you scold immediately, the familiar burn of pure embarrassment instantly appearing across your face. 

Bucky, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by the fox’s comment and burst out into a fit of deep chuckles, running his metal hand through the long tresses of rich brown hair. 

“Your fox is cute,” 

The comment made Calcifer let out a gruff murmur of disagreement, making you join Bucky in his laughter, “Yeah, I’m really happy he chose to stay with me. Um... I should probably go. Cal hasn’t eaten since breakfast and I still need to go to the butcher-” “There’s a butcher in this town?” The pure curiosity on Bucky’s face made your smile grow that much more as he finally took in his surroundings. 

“Yeah, it’s about two blocks down from here, it’s Calcifer's favorite place,” You say, backing up a few steps to signal your exit. 

“A-alright! well, uh it was nice meeting you! Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” The male witch fumbles with his words as he realizes the conversation is ending. 

“Sure, maybe,” you nod in agreement, fully turning around and beginning the walk towards your destination. 

As you walked away you couldn’t help but let the small smile on your face grow. What a dork he was... Almost as awkward as you were, the way he kept messing with his hair- ”He’s still lookin’ at ya... And what was all that stuff you were thinking about getting robbed? Why were you so fixated on gettin’ robbed?” 

“Calcifer for christ’s sake!” Your voice was filled with exasperation, rolling your eyes at the familiar's comments and ignoring the fact that the cute witch was still watching you walk away.

“Are you seriously thinking about how him staring at you is cute? Humans are so weird...” 

“Stop reading my thoughts you creep!” 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

A groan echoed throughout your apartment as a streak of the bright morning sun landed on your eyes and woke you from your slumber. Clapping a hand down onto your eyes to block the light, you roughly slide it down in hopes of wiping the fatigue that plagued you. Slowly but surely, you untangled yourself from your sheets, stretching your waking limbs and yawning with an over dramatic sound. You blindly felt around for your phone that was lying on the floor directly by your mattress. Once you located the small device, you tapped it on and read the time. 10:47 am, Sunday...Fantastic. 

You laid on your mattress for a bit, unaware of anything but your tired bones. The only reason you didn’t fall back asleep right then and there was the light buzz that came from your phone. You lazily picked it back up and stared at the too bright screen, taking a moment to comprehend the text that popped up on your home screen. 

Wanda Maxi: Hey! Are you on your way?

What? On my way...

“OH FUCK” You bolt out of bed, slipping on part of your sheet that was draped onto your wooden flooring and almost face planting. 

“Calcifer wake up we gotta have brunch with Wanda and Vis!” you scream out to nothing specific, unaware of where your familiar was. 

As quickly as possible, you gathered an outfit, shoved a toothbrush into your mouth to brush it a little too harshly, got your hair ready, and threw your clothes on. It’s not until you’re almost done getting ready before you see the bright fox bolt in from the balcony, “How could you forget about brunch? This happens every week for fucks sake!” 

“This isn’t entirely my fault! You knew about it too!” you argue while lathering deodorant onto your underarms, already sweating from the stress of the situation. 

“I’m a fox! You think I keep alarms?” he yells back at you, not bothering to stop and look at you as he gathers your things while you hurriedly tried to shove your foot into a shoe. 

Once your shoes were on and Calcifer had given you everything you’d need, you ran to your door and swung it open, “You wanna run with me or do you want me to carry you?” 

“Oh please you can barely run by yourself. You couldn’t handle the weight,” Calcifer scoffs, running between your legs and out of the apartment. 

You immediately lock your door and run after him, “So rude...” you huff to yourself and catch up to the fox. 

✸ ✴ ✦

It only took you about five minutes to sprint across town and make it to the small clay cottage that your friends had lived in for years now. The mossy dark brown Terracotta roof and grey wooden door that had ivy vining in and out of it gave a lovely natural look to the house and you couldn’t help but admire the wonderful home the couple had built. 

Calcifer’s quiet pants mixed with your wheezing as you stumbled up to the door and knocked loudly to signal your arrival. The door swung open, revealing a smirking Wanda. 

“You woke up late again didn’t you?” 

Still catching your breath, you nodded and followed her into her home. Wanda looked gorgeous, as always, wearing a light and flowing yellow sundress with matching shoes and a pretty white ribbon that was tied into her hair. 

“I’m so sorry Wanda, neither of us set an alarm,” you breathed out, following her towards the kitchen. 

“It’s okay sweetie, we didn’t have to wait or anything, all of us were busy talking about the latest man who was admitted into the Grand Council,” she smiled back at you, warm eyes shining from the sunlight that was coming through the glass doors that led to their garden. 

You tilt your head in confusion when you realize her phrasing, “All of us?” 

Wanda gently put a fist to her temple, her face twisting into a slight grimace, “I’m sorry sweetie I completely forgot to mention I invited some friends today! Don’t worry, they’re both great and I’m sure you’ll get along just fine,” 

You nod your head hesitantly, not entirely believing your friend. You wondered who she had invited... Many times over Wanda and Vision have told stories about their old friends who they had met throughout their lives. From your understanding, they had built a wonderful family together and had helped and cared for each other for years so you had no doubt they would be friendly. 

Before you had time to voice whatever worries you had, you were interrupted by the fall of multiple pairs of footsteps. It didn’t take long for three men to walk into the room, all talking enthusiastically over each other. You automatically recognized the slim man walking over to Wanda as Vision, his bright eyes greeting you as he wrapped his arms around Wanda’s slim waist. 

You turn to the other two guests and are unable to hold in an audible gasp when you recognize one of them. Those chilling eyes copied yours as they widened to an almost comical size. 

“Y/n...” The sound of your name coming from his full, pink lips made your hands clam up. 

He was dressed much more formal today with a navy blue sweater over a button up shirt, dark jeans and the cutest wing-tipped shoes you’d ever seen. He looked like he had just gotten out of church with his grandmother. 

“H-hello..” you mutter back, a heavy cloud of confusion and stress surrounding itself around you. 

“Oh...Do you-do you guys know each other already?” Wanda tilts her head a curious finger flickering between the two of you as her squinting eyes try to find the connection. 

Bucky glances at you, then Wanda, then back at you, as if to ask the question of who would be telling the tale of your meeting. You however settled for staring up at the ceiling, handing that responsibility off to Bucky. 

“We um, bumped into each other at the market the other day,” his answer comes after a slight moment of hesitation. 

You held back a scoff at his choice of words... More like you ran over me and almost killed my familiar. 

“Oh great! So then you’ll only have to meet Sam,” Wanda smiles and gestures to the stranger who had refrained from speaking up until now. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Sam Wilson,” he greets you with a bright smile, a charming gap between his two front teeth and a warm glow emanating from rich brown eyes that winked mischievously. 

He was quite handsome and his automatic charm caused the fog of awkward shyness to thicken in your mind, “Nice to meet you too,” you smile politely and shove your hand out for him to shake. 

A deep chuckle sounds from within his muscular chest as he grasps your hand and gives a firm shake. You quickly tell him your name before stepping back and allowing a new conversation to start. It was hard to focus on what everyone was saying as you felt the obvious gaze of Bucky peering at you from across the kitchen. You found the best way to keep yourself from staring back at him was to focus on the small amount of dirt that you could see hidden underneath your nails. You really needed to get them done again... Although it gets pretty difficult to achieve correct measurements with the long pointy acrylics that seem to be your go-to choice. 

“I dunno man, I just have really bad vibes about that Pierce guy... Steve agrees with me,” Sam’s comment brings you back to the conversation which you had apparently zoned out of. 

“Where is Steven? I thought he said he would be able to attend today?” Vision, always the formal talker, had a questioning glint to his eyes as he switched his focus from Sam to Bucky, then back. 

“Liberty wasn’t feeling too good so he had to take her to a vet,” Bucky was the one to answer.

“Liberty?” a questioning tilt to your head signals your confusion.

Bucky smiles at you before answering, “Yeah, she’s Steve’s pet. Super cute golden retriever that he picked up at the pound a couple years back,”

“Oh... Is he not a witch like you guys?” it surprised you that there was someone amongst their group that wasn’t practicing magic. 

Bucky subconsciously takes a step towards you, his body language changing to signal he was now solely focused on you, “Yeah he tried a few years ago but, it didn’t really go too well,” 

As Bucky answered he held up his metal prosthetic and wiggled his fingers, “Are you serious?! Your friend did that to you?” you gasp in shock, your eyes widening in amazement as you reach out to touch his arm without thinking. 

The metal was smooth and you were so enamored by the new information as well as the mechanical appendage that you failed to notice how tense Bucky got and how multiple pairs of eyes were staring at you. Your fingertips gently ran over the cool ridges of metal sections, “Wow... Did he turn your arm metal or did... did something else happen?” you glance between pretty blue eyes and steely metal. 

Bucky slowly reaches his arm out so you have a better view of what it’s like, “Actually that was kind of a joke,” he stutters, an awkward smile gracing his lips, “The real story is way more depressing,” he mumbles.

You halt your movements and stare up at him, the familiar yet heavy weight of embarrassment settling itself deep within your chest, “O-oh... I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to overstep-” You pull your hands away, folding them tightly against your chest. 

“No it’s okay! Really I’ve had a lot worse interactions,” he chuckles and reassures you once again that you didn’t overstep any boundaries. 

You nod in understanding but inevitably go back into your default of shy silence. Bucky stares down at you with a kind smile in hopes of making you feel a little less like an ass. It doesn’t work. 

After a few moments of deafening silence, Wanda makes a move over to the oven, “Alright everyone, quiche time!” 

“Aren’t you vegan?” Bucky mumbles, walking over to the table and preparing to sit down. As Wanda gives her response and mentions the fake eggs she found at the market, you walk over to the table as well. Bucky pulls out the seat closest to you and gives you a reassuring nod. You give a thankful smile and sit down, allowing him to help you push it back towards the table. 

“Thank you,” your quiet voice has Bucky grinning as he sits down next to you.

“Of course, doll” 

Brunch goes off without any more awkward spells and with the help of Wanda’s amazing skills in the kitchen, you begin to feel yourself relax with each bite you take. The afternoon goes on with the others telling you about how they met, silly stories about their friendly adventures, and at some point the conversation turned to you and what it had been like growing up a witch. It was a unique characteristic that none of your friends, new or old, had experienced. 

“Well, my dad is the one who originally got me into it... He was an aura reader like Wanda, and my mom focused more on spell casting and potions,” a warm grin on your lips signal the fondness your memories bring as you tell about your childhood, everyone was completely invested. 

“especially Bucky” Calcifer pointed out silently, giving you a knowing smirk from where he sat on the floor next to you. 

oh fuck off you stupid fox

✸ ✴ ✦ 

With full stomachs and a few full containers of leftovers, you, Sam, and Bucky stood gathered outside of Wanda’s front door as you all belted out a chorus of goodbye’s and excellent days. 

“It was really nice meeting you Y/n, make sure to keep in touch! I’ll be waiting for a carrier owl,” Sam winks at you as he begins to walk down the path towards the sidewalk, effectively leaving you and Bucky by yourselves. 

“He didn’t even let me say goodbye back...” you mumble out, staring at the confident figure that now waited at the property line by a pretty bush of hydrangeas. 

“Yeah... He’s weird like that,” Bucky agrees, glancing at his friend before fully turning his attention to you, “um so I’ve been meaning to maybe like... um maybe get your contact info? I just... I was maybe thinking we could grab like, tea or something sometime?”

As you take in Bucky’s words, you can’t help but notice the awkward and anxious movements he had started, reminding you of the first day you had met him. It made your lips twitch up just slightly. 

“Oh? like, my phone number?” the dumb answer almost had you on your knees with how hard you cringed. 

Bucky let out a breathy chuckle, “Uh yeah, yeah or like maybe an address? Or ugh that’s probably too personal-” “No! no it’s um it’s not,” you answer a little too quickly, discreetly pinching the skin on the back of your hand as punishment for your blatant lack of social skills. 

After a quick beat of neither of you knowing what to do, you finally speak back up, “You could come over tomorrow if you’d like,” 

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would he want to come over so- “Yeah I’d love to!” Bucky answers enthusiastically, pulling his phone out from his back pocket and holding it out to you, “Just give me your number and I'll text you, we can figure out the details later, K?” 

You gingerly take the smartphone in your hands and type in your number, forgetting to put a name in for yourself before handing it back to him. Bucky’s hand slightly brushes yours as he takes it back and you’re too busy focusing on the lingering feeling on your hand that you miss the cheeky grin on Bucky’s face as he types in a contact name. 

“Hey tin soldier! You ready yet?” Sam’s smooth voice has you turning around with a start at his unexpected call. 

Bucky nods towards his friend, waving him off and turning back to you, “So I’ll uh, see you tomorrow,” 

“Tomorrow,” You confirm with a nod of your own.

Bucky’s smile grows tenfold and he takes a small step towards you, hesitating for only a moment before he leans in and gives a chaste kiss to the apple of your cheek. He doesn’t wait around to see your reaction, jogging over to Sam and slapping him on the shoulder before walking off down the cobblestone streets. 

Standing with your eyes the size of the moon and your face as hot as the goddamn sun, you don’t fail to catch the string of comments that your sleazy little fox makes. 

“Oh Bucky please just take me away! I’m too shy and socially inept to even speak to you properly, please I just love you sooooo much!” Calcifer’s high pitched mocking made your blood boil as he wheezed with laughter. 

“Shut up you stupid fox!” you yell at him, hooking your foot underneath his belly and pushing up and forward to flip him on his side. 

The reynard continued to cackle hysterically as you walked away from him. You could hear the broken comments he made as Calcifer continued to berate you on the bumpy interactions you always seemed to have with the handsome witch. 

“You’re sleeping outside tonight!” you call back to him, a smug tilt to your lips.

The laughing stopped immediately and was replaced by the clicking of little nails on mossy stone. 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

Calcifer’s eyes were glued to your figure as you made a mad dash around your apartment to make sure everything was clean and properly put away. Your socks allowed you to slide across the wooden floors as you shoved the rest of your freshly cleaned towels into a closet and slam it shut. Quickly turning the other way to sprint then slide the rest of the way to your little kitchenette where an almost comically small oven bakes banana nut muffins. 

“You are a nervous wreck right now kid,” Cal points out, a hint of worry in his mostly humorous tone. 

You look over at him, cringing at the realization that, yeah, you probably do look like a nervous wreck...

“It’s just that... No one has been over in a while and the last person that did come over was Wanda and I know she doesn’t care all that much about my tidiness so it was okay but I have no clue as to how Bucky is going to react and it's not like I don’t want to impress him, I mean I don’t need to impress him like my life doesn’t depend on what he thinks but,” “Christ’s sake kid-” “I mean for gods sake my bed is on the floor! He’ll probably think I’m some broke slob who-” Knock Knock 

“Oh my gods,” you whisper scream, no doubt did your aura radiate pure panic...

You shuffle over to the door, shoving your face up against it to look through the peephole and make sure it was the only person you were expecting. Taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself, then open the door. 

“Good morning, Bucky!” you greet, a bright smile on your face as you take in your guest’s appearance. 

Bucky is looking extra handsome today as he wears a dark grey cardigan over a white shirt, dark fitted jeans and, to your extreme surprise, black Converse.

“Hey, Doll” he smiles back softly at you, quickly taking in your simple outfit of a cute yellow crop top and black shorts, “T-these are for you,”  he mutters quickly and pulls a pretty bouquet of wildflowers out from behind his back. 

You beam at the thoughtful gesture and Calcifer doesn’t miss the sense of pride that Bucky gives off at your excited reaction, “Wow, Bucky these are so cute! I love them, thank you very much,” gingerly taking the bundle of fragrant colors, you invite your guest inside and immediately go to your kitchenette to find a receptacle for them.  

Once you find a nice little vase to put them in you spin back around to find Bucky looking around your small apartment, “Um...It’s not much-but the rent is really good and since it’s just me and Cal it works out pretty nice. If you aren’t comfortable we can always-” “I love it, Y/n. It’s really... you,” he glances back towards you, the look in his eyes warming you from deep within your chest. 

“Hey, tin man” the both of you jump slightly as Calcifer interrupts the thoughtful interaction. 

Bucky crouches down and reaches his hand out to the fox, “Hey... Nice to see you again Calcifer” 

“Where’s your dog?” completely ignoring Bucky’s polite greeting, Calcifer passes by him. 

“Oh uh... Sibi is still in training so I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to bring her into someone else’s home just yet,” the man answers awkwardly, dropping his hand and standing back up to his full height. 

Calcifer be nice you little skeez.

I’m just tryin’ get to know the guy, alright? 

You roll your eyes at the red animal and tell him to go onto the balcony. He thankfully listens, giving you and Bucky some privacy. 

“Sorry about him... He can be a little difficult sometimes,” you apologize quickly, nervously rubbing your clammy hands on the front of your shorts. 

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, “It’s alright, I understand,” 

You give a questioning look at his phrasing and he quickly moves to elaborate, “Well, uh I guess-Ya know- since you guys are really close... I can understand why he would be protective because um, well since I’m like I’m trying to-” “Trying to what?” 

Bucky’s face was beet red as he tried and failed to explain himself to you, who had absolutely no idea what he was going on about, “In any case, I’m sure he’ll warm up to you soon,” you smile warmly at him and turn towards your oven. 

The embarrassed man watches as you take out the piping hot tray of muffins and set them out on the counter to cool. His stomach growls low as the deliciously sweet smell hits his nostrils. 

“How about we go sit down while those cool off?” you suggest and lead Bucky over to the small sofa that sat against the only free wall. 

You tuck yourself into one corner, folding your legs so they were pressed against your chest as you tried to give Buck as much room as possible. It was quite adorable to see the tall, beefy guy try and squeeze himself onto your small couch. A quiet laugh escapes you and he glances towards you, his cheeks tinged pink, “Guess M’not really made for studio apartment sized things,” he chuckles. 

Glad to see he isn’t upset about the cramped seating arrangement, you relax a little bit and start asking Bucky about his life. The two of you fall into easy conversation, talking about your childhood, past and current friends, how Bucky got into magic, your familiars and anything else that came to your minds. 

By the time there was a slight lull in conversation, it was already mid afternoon and you couldn’t help the growls that sounded from your stomach. 

“Um, do you want me to make us some lunch? I have like, sandwich stuff or mac n cheese?” you ask, swinging your legs off the couch and standing up to stretch. 

“Yeah that sounds good, you want me to help?” Bucky follows your movements and you shake your head. 

“S’okay, if you want you can go onto the balcony and I’ll be right out,” You smile up at him, turning to your little kitchen and focusing on making lunch. 

Bucky makes his way out onto your balcony covered in vining plants and hanging bottles filled with god knows what. Calcifer was asleep on a slightly rusted chair in the corner, his tail and legs curled into his body, making him look like a furry ball of orange. Bucky had never seen a work space quite like it. Sam was more of a trader so there wasn’t much potion making in the home they shared together. As he stared in wonder at all of the bottles covering the antique desk and a good part of the floor, curiosity got the best of him and Bucky couldn’t help but to start picking them up and exploring what was inside. 

Most of the bottles were labelled so he didn’t need to worry about those ones, the curious man was more interested in the unmarked ones. Popping off the cork to a green glass bottle filled with a powder, he brought his nose up to sniff and immediately gagged at the overpowering scent. 

“What is that?” he grumbled quietly to himself, closing that one and picking up a new one. 

This bottle did in fact have a label, but it was chicken scratch and for the life of him, Bucky couldn’t tell what the hell it meant as he picked up the murky glass bottle filled with what seemed to be a bright purple fog and opened it, taking in a quick whiff. 

Almost immediately Bucky felt the effects of the mystery potion and he had to steady himself on the desk so he wouldn’t fall over. Blinking a few times, he gathered his wits and slowly stood straight up. 

“Whaaat are you doing?” Your curious voice from the sliding door made Bucky jump and spin around, hiding the bottle behind his back. 

Your eyes quickly shift from the chilling blue irises of your guest to the suspicious amount of movement happening behind his large frame. Bucky lets out a quick scoff before answering, “What? Nothing, just checkin stuff out ya know,” 

His poor attempt at a casual demeanor was lost on you and it was quite evident in the suspicious squint of your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in front of you. 

“Which bottle did you sniff?” you ask flatly, sticking your hand out expectantly, the other hand making its way onto your hip.

“I-I didn’t sniff any bottle,” Bucky mutters out, metal hand going up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

You waited only a moment before he spoke again, seemingly unable to hold back his comment, “That’s a lie I sniffed this bottle,”

He immediately took a bottle out from behind his back and placed it in your still awaiting palm. You knew what it was as soon as you saw the color of the substance inside and began to laugh. It was the hardest you had laughed all day and the resounding noise of your joyous fit surely made its way down to the cobblestone streets below. Your right hand left its initial place on your hip and placed itself over the left side of your chest as you bent over to steady yourself. 

“Y-you just inhaled a shit ton of Truth-Be-Told Smoke” You cackled out loudly. 

Bucky, though entirely confused, couldn’t help the smile that painted itself onto his pink lips as he stared at your beautiful figure shaking from the prettiest laughing fit he had ever heard, “Your laugh is really pretty,” he blurted out, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth afterwards. 

The compliment startled you enough to calm your laughter and straighten your posture back out, “Thank you, Buck. So I’m just gonna assume you’re wondering what’s happening right now,” He answered you by quickly nodding his head.

You giggled and continued on, “Basically, this stuff is used mainly as a partial ingredient in other potions, but by itself, especially undiluted, it’s a high performing truth serum. You won’t be able to say anything except for what comes to your mind for quite some time,” 

“That makes me really nervous,” Bucky’s voice sounds strained as the hand that was covering his mouth moves to wipe down his face in stress.

“Well don’t go sniffin’ a girl’s potions next time!” you giggle out, walking over to return the potion to its proper place. 

“You smell really good,” before you have a chance to react bucky groans in frustration, “Fuck I am so sorry,” 

A light laugh escapes your lips and you look up at Bucky’s grimacing face, “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Plus it’s nice to know I made the right decision on what body wash to buy,” 

You motion Bucky to follow you back inside, ensuring there would be no more accidental roofying. Two sandwiches sit side by side on the small sofa, a little pile of chips next to each one. 

“This is really kind of you, Y/n” Bucky smiles, lifting up both plates of food and waiting for you to get comfy next to him before handing you one. 

“It’s no problem Bucky, you’re my friend now and-” “I don't want to be your friend,” he bursts out, making you frown.

Bucky quickly fixes his mistake, “No sorry- I uhm- I misspoke I-I don’t want to just be your friend.” another grimace makes its way onto his face, “That’s embarrassing for me to say, I’m embarrassed,” 

If you weren’t already sweating nervously, you were now. Clammy hands grip at the paper plate on your lap as you try and will your face to extinguish the fire that has engulfed it. “B-Bucky, I um…” 

“I’m sorry I said that… It probably makes you never want to see me again,” Bucky mutters out, anxiously playing with the small pile of potato chips.

“Actually…” you begin, taking a deep breath and continuing, “It doesn’t bother me at all,”

Bucky lets out a long breath of air, “Holy shit really? That’s fucking awesome because I wasn’t gonna tell ya that today but then I smelt that thing and I’m sweating real bad right now with how nervous I am-I should not have said that, but now that you said what you just said-” 

You put your hand up, signaling for the witch to stop his word vomit and laughed, “Bucky you don’t need to worry… Honestly, I am just as nervous as you,” 

Maybe it was because of the state Bucky was currently in, maybe it was because of something completely unrelated, but it made you feel brave enough to admit more than what you would’ve ever imagined. Bucky somehow willed himself into eating his sandwich, stopping every once in a while to blurt out a random compliment about you, the food, your apartment, anything. He even complimented how adorable it was that your mattress was on the floor, saying it just made everything feel so much comfier and he wished his apartment was like this. You took the comments in stride on the outside, though on the inside you were dying out of embarrassment. No one had ever said such nice things about you, and to the volume that Bucky was going, even if it was against his will, it still shocked you a bit.

By the time you were both done eating, the effects of the smoke seemed to slow down a bit, which allowed the nervous man beside you to withhold all of his thoughts, though it did keep him from lying still. As you stood to clean up the plates and napkins used during lunch, Bucky mimicked you, following you to the kitchen. 

“Today was really nice Bucky...Thank you for coming over,” you smile up at the tall man beside you and try not to swoon when he returns the warm smile.

There wasn’t a beat of hesitation before Bucky responded, “It was my pleasure, sweetheart,”

The term of endearment had your face aflame, something that has become a recurring struggle whenever you were around Bucky and his stupid compliments that always got to you. 

“Ya know, you’re quite the sweet talker when there’s nothing holding you back,” you tease playfully, making Bucky let out a quick bark of laughter. 

“Was I not a sweet talker before? I must have had some kinda skill since ya let me spend the whole day here,” a sly smirk is pulling at the corners of his lips as Bucky leans down closer to you in a mocking way.

You roll your eyes and put a hand to his shoulder, effectively pushing him away and giving yourself some much needed space. If you didn’t breathe properly soon, you were gonna pass out.

Bucky stayed at your place for a bit longer until he got a text from Sam saying that Sibi was getting anxious and that she missed him. You couldn’t help the grin that made its way onto your face when he explained why he had to leave, thinking it was absolutely adorable that Bucky was the only one who was able to calm that gigantic wolf. When it was time for him to go, it became a waiting game of who was going to initiate the final goodbye. 

Standing by your front door, leaning on the trim, you stared into the piercing blue eyes of the man opposite of you, completely unsure of what to say. In all honesty, you didn’t think it’d go this well. For Bucky to spend the entire day cramped up in your apartment with you, eating snacks and joking around as if you had known each other for years… It shocked you a bit when you truly thought about it. 

Bucky sighed, leaning against the opposite frame of the door as he stared back down at you, “So…” a nervous hand came up to subconsciously tangle into the hairs on the nape of his neck, the Truth Be Told must be wearing off, “I um… Today was really great,”

You nod your head in agreement, “Yeah it uh-it was,” your fingers begin to tangle and pull at each other. 

“Do you...Maybe wanna...Do it again? Soon?” he mumbles out, breaking eye contact as he begins to focus on his shoes. 

A little pinch to the back of your hand ensures that what you just heard was real and you nod, “yes, that’d be awesome! I um… Whenever you’re free of course,” 

Y/n and Tin Man sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

You quickly turn around to see Calcifer prancing in a circle in the middle of your apartment, a sly grin on his face. 

Gods what are you Five? Shut up you stupid fox! I’m gonna throw you off the balcony!

“Doll? You okay?” Bucky chuckles lightly as he sees your face scrunched up into a cute little scowl that makes him want to squish your face between his hands. 

Calcifer's annoying cackles were heard echoing in your apartment as you turned back around to face Bucky, “Yeah, yeah no I’m good… You were saying?” 

“Just that I was free on Thursday, if you maybe wanted to get coffee with me… But it’s really no big deal if you don’t want to, I would understa-” “No! Er-I mean yes! Yes. I would love to get coffee with you on Thursday,” You cringe at your awkward response and bite the inside of your lip to keep yourself from screaming in embarrassment. 

The bright smile on Bucky’s face grounds you a little bit and gives you the courage to meet his pretty blue irises, “So Doll, I uh was thinking-” Before he can finish his thought, Bucky’s phone pings loudly, making you jump a little, “Sorry” He murmurs.

Snatching it from the pocket of his jeans, Bucky takes a look then immediately lets out a quiet sigh, “That’s Sam, I really gotta go,” 

Trying not to let the disappointment show, you nod your head and straighten up, silently wishing he could stay longer, “Okay...Um I’ll see you on Thursday then…” 

Bucky’s head tilts to the left as he considers your shy demeanor and he can’t help but reach out with his right hand and lightly grasps yours, “I’ll see you on Thursday, pretty girl,” 

You suck in a breath, feeling Bucky lightly tug on your hand and willingly following his lead. Taking a tiny step forward, which was really all you could take with how close the two of you were all ready, the breath your holding tightens in your chest as Bucky leans down closer to you. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek, the brush of his long eyelashes ghosting over your temples, and the light squeeze on your wrist from his large hand. Bucky’s lips were soft as they pressed against the corner of your mouth in a light kiss that made you feel like you were in the clouds.

It didn’t last as long as you’d like and once he pulled away, you were able to let out the painful breath that stayed in your lungs for way too long. Bucky gave a quick wave before backing up a few paces, turning around, and walked the rest of the way down the hall. Leaving you to stand there breathless with the lingering feeling of his soft touches. 

“You two are gross,” The floaty feeling that had fallen over you evaporated as you heard the familiar’s voice from behind you. 

“I’m gonna hit you so hard,” You yell over your shoulder, turning around and slamming the door behind you. You pick up a slipper by your door and make your way over to the cackling fox. 

“W-wait wait! OW” 

“Stupid fox”

✸ ✴ ✦ 

-3 Months Later-

“Steve c’mon, stop interrogating my girl and come help set the tent up!” Steve turns his attention from you to his best friend, a smile on his face as he gets up to help Bucky set up the large canvas tent. 

“We will continue this later,” the blonde says pointedly before leaving you by yourself at the wooden picnic table. 

It had only been a little over three months since you had met Bucky Barnes, exactly two since he had worked up the courage to officially ask you to be “his girl” as he put it, and two hours since you had properly met Steven Rogers. How you had gone so long without meeting Bucky’s platonic other half was beyond you, but apparently the guy was a busy bee, and since your little potion shop out of your apartment had taken off, you didn’t exactly have much free time on your hands either. Fortunately, with a little luck and a lot of asking around for favors and covers for work, You, Bucky, Steve, Sam, Wanda, Vis, and all of your respective animals were able to take a long weekend to go camping. 

“Are you guys ready to eat? These sandwiches won’t keep for much longer,” Wanda stands up from the green metal cooler, hands full of deli sandwiches that she had made for the trip. 

A chorus of agreeance sounded across the cozy little site you had booked as you all gathered around the redhead. Bucky came up beside you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss to the crown of your hair. 

“You excited for the weekend, doll?” he murmurs into your hair sweetly before placing a few more kisses there. 

You laugh lightly at his endearing behavior and smile up at him, “Of course I am Buck. I may never get the chance to spend this much time outside of my apartment again,” you joke, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss your boyfriend on the sharp line of his jaw. 

After everyone had gotten a sandwich, along with whatever they wanted to drink or eat with it, you all squeezed onto the benches of the picnic table and began to chow down. Everyone talked animatedly about what the plans were for the rest of the weekend. Swimming, fishing, “Building a bomb ass fire” as Sam gracefully put it, all of it sounded like a blast to you. If you were being honest, you were just excited to be out of your apartment for more than a few hours at a time. 

“So, you’re a potion maker huh?” Steve asks, mouth half full of potato chips. 

Bucky lets out a groan and rolls his eyes, “Stevie let the girl breathe for fucks sake,” 

The group laughs at Bucky’s annoyance, but then looks at you, “Well, uh yeah… I um was taught at a young age, so it’s something I’m really good at and I know it’s not the best job or anything-” ''It’s an awesome job, kid. I think you’re doing real good. Our own little entrepreneurial witch!” Sam interrupts your babbling, a bright smile on his face as he pats your back just a little too forcefully.

“I mean… I’m not a witch so I obviously don’t really get it like everyone else does, but you seem to be doing really well,” Steve assures you, sending a sense of pride into your chest. 

You had managed to impress Steve Rogers… Not bad, Y/n.

The guy is actin’ like he’s Tin Man's father… The hell is that about?

You turn your head over to where Calcifer is curled up on a dark blue camping chair, bright yellow eyes trained on the blonde man who was still stuffing his mouth with food. 

Calcifer they’ve been friends for ages, it’s normal.

The fox lets out a quiet snuff in response before getting up from the chair and trotting over to the table. 

“Cal do you want some of my turkey?” Bucky asks, taking a few pieces of turkey from his sandwich and setting it beside him on the table. 

Calcifer doesn’t answer, just hops up on the bench and silently eats the portion of meat. It’s taken a while for Calcifer to warm up to Bucky… And though progress if few and far between, the two have definitely gotten closer in the past couple of weeks. The biggest issue at first was how crazy Sibi acted around other familiars, but after a while and a good amount of training from you and Bucky, the hyperactive wolf finally settled and was on track to be a wonderful helper for her witch in training. 

“So… Do you guys have any plans of moving in together soon?” Wanda hesitates as she not so sneakily takes a chip from Vis’s plate. 

You and Bucky look to each other for only a moment before responding, “We’ve been looking at places to go. It’s hard cause we wanna stay in Adelaide but without buyin’ a whole house, there aren’t many options for apartments,” Bucky explains, a small shrug to his shoulders. 

“And there’s no way all four of us could fit in my apartment,” you add, copying Bucky’s shrug. 

Neither of you were in too much of a hurry to find a place of your own, as you were both content in the homes you were in now. The idea of living with Bucky was quite appealing but you knew the more realistic thing to do would be to wait, save, and research to make sure you both lived in a comfortable environment. 

“You guys are so cute it makes me wanna die! Who knew you’d be the ultimate witchy power couple?” Wanda’s swooning caused you to laugh a little as Vision looked at her with mock hurt in his eyes as if to say ‘what are we then?’

Before anyone had a chance to add on, an unexpected voice responded, “I did,” 

Your laughter immediately ceased and your attention snapped over to the other side of Bucky’s large frame. Calcifer sat proudly on his haunches as he gazed back at your shocked face. 

“W-what do you mean you knew?” Bucky stuttered, equally as shocked as you were. 

“I just knew. From the first day you guys met, it was obvious it was that true love bullshit you humans talk about,” the fox brushes off both yours and Bucky’s shock as if it was nothing. 

The rest of the group laughs as the pair of you stutter out broken objections to Calcifer’s claim, “A-are you kidding me Cal? That stuff is like… a myth or something,” 

“Yeah, I mean I’m in love with Y/n n’ all but-” “You’re in love with me?” 

All of the banter around the table halts as five pairs of eyes stare at a now tomato faced Bucky Barnes. “U-um, yes. Yeah-I um, yeah I’m in love with you…” Bucky’s voice is quiet and you’re not sure if he actually said what you heard, but that thought is soon wiped from your mind as an eruption of cheers sounds from your friends. 

A grin makes its way onto your face as you stare up at those pretty blue eyes that you really never got tired of looking at, and you can’t help but bring your hand up to run along the stubble of Bucky’s jaw, “I’m in love with you, Buck” 

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief and immediately leans down to press his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, both of his large hands framing each side of your face to pull you closer to him. 

“Told ya so” 

“Shut up you stupid fox!”

[hyuckssunchip]

Shakespeare Sucks Pt. 4

Pairings: Jaemin x Reader, ft. Jaehyun, Renjun, Mark, Jeno, Taeyong

Words: 2K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst, mentions of violence/death

Synopsis:

Like Romeo and Juliet... less death though. You and Jaemin are blissfully unaware of the fate the lies ahead of your relationship. That is until Fate unveils the cruel plans that She has for you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

“Answer the door.” Jaemin glared at the man, gritting his teeth but following his order.

He held the door open and his face froze at the sight of you juggling three bags of food.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was aggressive but you chose to ignore it. “Didn’t I tell you I was sick?”

“I brought soup, I wasn’t sure which was the best, but I figured one of the three would be okay.” You looked up at his expression, trying to let him know that you were struggling with your eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant when I said I was sick.” He pushed out between tightened lips.

“I know, but I couldn’t let you suffer alone. Can I come in now? It’s heavy.” You tried to push past him, eager to set down the bags.

“No, I’ll just take it.”

“Jaemin, let me take care of you.” You ducked under his arm, walking backwards cheekily. “I’ll let you sleep after you eat.”

You bumped into the wall, stumbling forward with a sheepish smile. However your reaction didn’t match with Jaemin’s, his of utter horror. 

He started towards you, attempting to pull you towards him, but another pair of arms wrapped around your waist, forcing you to drop your bags. 

Jaemin froze, staring at you with pleading eyes. He shook his head desperately, as if pleading with someone. 

You felt something cold touch your neck, a familiar sharp crease of a blade cutting into your sick. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes wide at the realization of your situation.

Your eyes wavered, falling to the hand that gripped tightly on the sheath. You held your breath, eyes falling on the familiar ring that adorned his fingers. 

“Please.” Jaemin whimpered at the sight, stumbling forward a foot.

The knife dug deeper into your sensitive skin.

Your fingers had a mind of its own as you reached up to trace the emblem, startling the man behind you.

Your soft traces became more forceful, soon holding the hand in your own tight grip. You were so focused that you  missed the look Jaemin was trying to send you.

“Wait.” You let out, immediately received with a harsh laugh from behind you. You leaned back into the chest of the person behind you, rotating your head as much as you could to meet his face. 

His eyes widened in realization whispering out your name. 

He dropped his arm, stepping backwards to get a better look at you. 

“Dad?” You furrowed your eyes at him, horror washing over you.

“Dad?” You spun to face Jaemin, eyes wider than yours. You felt Jaehyun’s grip tighten on your arm, pulling you behind him.

He continued to stare down Jaemin, face contorted into anger.

“Why was she here?” You bit your lip, looking at the floor, regretting showing up unannounced. 

“I…” He paused, breathing heavily trying to wrap his mind around the situation. “Y/N?” From your peripheral vision you could see him, trying to make eye contact with you. You hid yourself behind your Dad, refusing to watch his expression fall.

“I swear if you did so much as touch my daughter, any truce we might’ve had is gone.”

“That was a cheap shot Jaehyun. To ambush him like this.” A thin dark haired man pushed past the front door, swinging a blade leisurely in his hand. Although he seemed small, his presence made up for it. You didn’t doubt for a moment that he wasn’t capable of what you had heard of him.

“Taeyong. Didn’t you do this to get to me? Isn’t that cheap of you?” Jaehyun snarled at the other man, who was suddenly flocked by two larger men.

“Like I have a clue about Jaemin’s love life.” He snorted sending the boy who was still in shock as smirk. “I guess I gave him less credit than he deserved.”

You glared at your feet, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

Jaehyun stiffened in front of you, pushing you further behind him.

“Don’t think that for a moment I won’t end this right now.” Jaehyun spat out, gripping his own blade tighter.

“Jaehyun,calm down, we’re in the presence of a lady right now, aren’t we? I’m not going to do anything, at least right now.” The smirk on his face curled over his icy features. “I don’t think Jaemin here would be too fond of that idea anyways.”

Jaemin was still processing everything, a part of him hurt and betrayed, but another part of him didn’t care. He realized by your reaction that you had already known, or at least figured it out before he did.

Taeyong strolled behind the bar of the kitchen, stabbing an apple unnecessarily hard.

“You know, I wouldn’t put it past you to have set your daughter on Jaemin. I’m surprised that I didn’t come up with the idea myself, of course you hid her quite well didn’t you?” He chuckled while slicing the apple in his hand, offering up a slice sardonically.

“No?” He grinned, biting into the piece with a wink, sending shivers down your spine. 

Jaehyun gripped your wrist, stepping over the puddle of soup that was spreading. He pulled you towards the door, Taeyong leaving an opening for an exit.

“For good reason don’t you think?” Jaehyun glared at the man, then shifted his gaze towards Jaemin, who was still following your every movement. You had yet to make eye contact, ashamed of the situation.

“Don’t come near my daughter. The next time you do will be your last.” You grimaced at the tone of your Dad’s voice, taking this as your last opportunity to appeal to Jaemin.

But this time he wasn’t looking at you. This time he shared the same look your Dad did, staring him down in defiance.

You gulped, fearing that their egos would be too much, and that this could really be the last time.

“No! This is exactly why I left! I don’t want to walk into my boyfriend’s house and be held at knife point. I want a normal life!” You marched into Jaehyun’s office, slamming the door behind you.

“Then you shouldn’t date someone like him.” His tone was tart, as if he couldn’t care less.

“He’s not the only one at fault here is he? It’s like everywhere I go you’re at the center of all these messes! Dad I want a normal life.”

“Isn’t that why you left?” His cold tone had you shaking in anger.

You glared at him, “I still just can’t get away from you. No matter how far I go you’re always ruining things! I’m so sick of this, I wish I wasn’t your daughter!”

“Y/N.” Renjun hissed at you, reaching out for you.

You pushed him away, storming out of the office.

“Go.” Jaehyun said solemnly, nodding his head in the direction you had just left. “Go talk to her.”

Renjun nodded back, not taking an extra second in chasing after you.

Jaehyun waited until the door shut behind Renjun to collapse in his arms. His hands rubbed over his face, stressed about the current situation.

To be honest he was worried. Worried that you were a new toy for Taeyong to hang over his head.

His hand tightened into a fist, feeling slightly better at the thought of Renjun being by your side.

It’s not like he wanted something bad to happen to you, that’s why when you stormed out of the house three years ago, announcing that you wanted nothing to do with the family business he let you go.

He knew it was more than dangerous to be affiliated with him, much less be his blood.

It seemed that ever since your mother had passed away, when you were nine there was a wall that separated you from him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be happy, he wanted you to be safe. And no matter how much you liked that boy, he couldn’t give you that. Not when he was apart of the same world Jaehyun lived in.

A week later

“I thought I said never to show up around my daughter.” Jaehyun glared down the boy that stood in front of him, fists clenched in anger.

The glare was returned for a moment, but dropped quickly. Jaemin seemed to have lost his internal battle, falling to his knees before the older man.

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

“The only thing I want from you, is for you stay away from Y/N.” He was cold, and careless with his words.

“I can’t do that.” The tremor in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, but there was a sense of determination.

“You think I’ll just let you go? You walked in here on your own conviction.” There was a hint of dark humor in Jaehyun’s voice, a way of taunting the begging boy.

“That’s how desperate I am. I can’t-”

A loud ring cut Jaemin off, the sound of Jaehyun’s phone interrupting the two of them.

With one last glance Jaehyun picked up the phone.

“What!? What do you mean Vice?” There was a pause, Jaehyun’s eyes narrowed at the sound. “That’s impossible, between the two of us there’s no way.”

The ringing of Jaemin’s phone stole the attention of both men. 

With hawk eyes, Jaehyun trained his eyes to follow the white haired boy.

“What? Slow down.” Jaemin furrowed his brows, thinking to himself, phone placed tightly against his ear.

He looked up in shock, meeting eyes with Jaehyun, and for the first time their expression met in agreement.

“I thought that was impossible? How did they manage-” Jaemin’s phone was snatched from his hand.

“What the hell is going on!?” Jaehyun raised his voice into the receiver of the younger boy’s phone.

He rolled his eyes at the response, putting the phone on speaker.

“Vice managed to sneak in three of their men a few days ago. There’s a leak here, they infiltrated our base and half of my men are injured. I don’t know how many more of them are here now, but they’re coming for you for sure.” There was a loud groan on the other end.

“Someone get this man a fucking medic already!” Jaemin’s widened, reaching for the phone. 

“Who? Who’s hurt!?” 

“Jaemin, I don’t want you here, you hear me!? Jaehyun, I know there’s a leak on your end too. Be careful who you trust. Vice has a vendetta against the both of us remember? Think of who it could be, who made their way in late? Has anyone made you- God damn it!” Taeyong was interrupted by a large bang. “Jaehyun think! You probably don’t have much time seeing as they’ve already attacked.”

The line went dead. 

Jaemin sat with wide eyes, still staring at the phone in his hand. Fingers gripping insanely tight in fear and anger.

Jaehyun rubbed his hands over his face, clenching his jaw before reaching for his own phone. 

“What are you going to do?” Jaemin gulped, looking up at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun’s eyes were crazed, mind running all over the place, until Renjun burst into the room immediately finding his Dad.

“Dad, the Brink...” He let out labored breaths, shaking his head, “It’s already...” He didn’t need to finish, the message clearly conveyed. It was too late.

Jaehyun reached down, grabbing Jaemin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up.

“I want you to keep her safe. She comes before anything else, do you understand?”

Jaemin nodded erratically, eyes shaking.

“I don’t care where you go. But don’t come back until I tell you.” 

“But-”

“You said you would do anything. Do this.” His tone was sharp but pleading and Jaemin understood the gravity of the situation.

“Dad, we should go, now.” Renjun glanced at his phone, another incoming call sending fear down his spine.

Jaehyun patted his back once, nodding at him, “Please.”

Soon Jaemin was left alone in the office, struggling to think straight.

What could he do?

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[smolbeandrabbles]

Driving Home For Christmas - Johnnie x Reader (Prime Mover)

Holiday Fic 3! 🚛🎁

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

Author’s Note: Sooooo... this song was just staring me in the face and I didn’t even clock that this was the easiest connection until super late. When I sat worrying about how the heck I was supposed to fill all my December slots!! 🤦‍♀️🙈

As a warning, this one is certainly Christmas related, rather than winter related. As the next one will be

This is also the same relationship as in ‘End Up With You’ and ‘My Oh My’.

Disclaimer: Prime Mover & associated characters not mine / I capped the cap! / lyrics not mine.

Premise: Everything seems to be going too well for Johnnie on his last run of the year, until he hits traffic...

Words: 2331

Warnings: Swearing / all the joys of your parents hating your S/O during the festive season / sexual connotations look I told ya

_____ I'm driving home for Christmas Oh, I can't wait to see those faces I'm driving home for Christmas, yea Well I'm moving down that line

And it's been so long But I will be there I sing this song To pass the time away Driving in my car Driving home for Christmas

It's gonna take some time But I'll get there Top to toe in tailbacks Oh, I got red lights on the run But soon there'll be a freeway yeah Get my feet on holy ground

Driving home for Christmas With a thousand memories I take look at the driver next to me He's just the same Just the same

Top to toe in tailbacks Oh, I got red lights all around I'm driving home for Christmas, yea Get my feet on holy ground So I sing for you Though you can't hear me When I get trough Oh and feel you near me Driving in my car Driving home for Christmas

---

This hadn’t exactly been the plan. Nowhere near the plan. In fact, if you had it the way you wanted it, Johnnie wouldn’t even have been pulled out on this last run of the Holiday season. He was supposed to have got back and been done roughly a week ago. Only a few days ago, as he’d been kicking around the garage to hang out with you, Phil had hauled him into one last over-nighter. Johnnie could probably have said no, and afforded to. And you, staring helplessly at him, hoped that he might. But he didn’t - and part of you knew that he wouldn’t. Johnnie would take work when he could get it - that’s what he always did. You let him know how unhappy you were about it, but he had calculated for this, and all he did was smile, showing you his worked out route: “It’s okay! I’ll be home! I’ll be home!” He was due back mid-afternoon Christmas Eve and you had held him to that. In fact, Johnnie had been running pretty well up until about lunch time, he’d got all the way there in relatively light traffic and made good time - the final drop off was complete and now he was driving empty back home he could at least lay on the gas a little. He made sure to update you every chance he got - and you always reminded him to take rest breaks. Johnnie bent the rules often enough, you didn’t need him in trouble just before the holidays - especially not REAL trouble. By the way you’d both calculated it, he might have been back even earlier than expected. And that got your hopes up. Unfortunately, as the day had worn on, Johnnie realised that he was not the only one going home… everyone this side of Australia seemed to be heading in the same direction. And suddenly he found himself stuck in tailbacks and holiday traffic. “Aw… Geez…” The radio was playing the appropriate festive music, only - sitting in the Australian summer heat - Johnnie couldn’t really say he was feeling the lyrics when all they talked about was winter wonderlands and wrapping up warm. No thanks. The one upside was, with only minor movement, he could message you a little more. But he didn’t want to worry you too much and stress you about traffic. So he let you know that he was in it - but nowhere near how bad it really was. It couldn’t be this terrible all the way back home, right? It had to let up eventually… Johnnie would have nothing to worry about. And worrying you any further would just cause him unnecessary problems. *** Your original idea was to wait for him at the depot until he arrived and then head over to your parents. But as it got later and later, he was nowhere to be found and you were pretty much the last person standing - realising the futility when even Phil started switching the lights off - you understood that you should be heading off yourself. In reality you didn’t think Johnnie or your mum would mind this predicament so much, considering how much they despised each other. But as you’d been telling both of them all week to ‘please be nice to each other! It’s the holidays!’ you figured you’d completely wasted your breath. Well… then again, you probably would have anyway. You checked your phone once more as Phil practically had to drag you out as he locked up. Nothing. You sighed gently; hopefully that meant he was at least moving again. You just hoped Johnnie wouldn’t do anything reckless… You knew better. Tapping out a quick text, you slipped into your own car, turning on the ignition and hoping you weren’t met with traffic of your own. The wrath of your mother at this time in the evening, considering it was already dark, would be bad enough. ‘I’m heading out to my parents now. See you back at home! Stay safe babe, I love you xx’ *** You barely got the chance to knock at the door of your parents’ house before your mother wrenched open the door. Her eyes were narrowed at you standing alone and she peered out onto the driveway, expecting to see Johnnie exiting the car or standing a little way off looking reluctant to be a part of this. When she realised he wasn’t there, her face softened and she looked back to you. “Hi Mum…” Your hands were in your pockets, “Happy Christmas-!” “Come in, come in!” She opened the door wide and as soon as it was closed behind you, she started, bustling passed you, her finger jabbing the air: “I TOLD you he was useless! I TOLD you he wouldn’t get home and he’d make my little girl cry-!” You weren’t crying, but you supposed you couldn’t exactly hide the disappointment on your face. Rolling your eyes you scoffed, trudging in after her, “Mum, he’s just running late. He says there’s really bad traffic. I’ll have him back this evening… You don’t want him here anyway-!” “No, and you should stay the night! Have Christmas with us!” “Mum.” You were firm as she turned back to you, “You know I can’t do that to him.” “I don’t know what you see in him.” “I don’t think there’s anything I could say that would persuade you to see anything in him.” And that was the honest truth, Johnnie could turn into a full-blown Saint and your mother would probably still hate him. You’d long since given up trying to change her opinions of him - after all, hers weren’t changing yours. Sure, there was some truth - and legitimate reasoning - behind her concerns. But making it her personal vendetta to hate him hardly helped the situation. Sometimes it just made you hold onto him a little stronger. And perhaps you would argue with her, but it was Christmas, and that was the last thing you were going to do. Besides, you were growing pretty tired of this type of bickering. Your dad appeared in the doorway, “Hey sweetheart!” “Hey dad!” You gave a genial wave. You were never exactly sure where he stood with the trucker you dated. You thought the appropriate word might be ‘tolerated’... He also peered around, “I thought Johnnie was coming?” You watched your mother instinctively glare at the mention of his name and shook your head; you had told them you would call in as soon as he was back. At this point you’d regretted planning anything. “Yes, but he hasn’t returned yet and it was getting late. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t going to stop by.” “Ahhh… He got caught in that big smash up?” As if that was any help with your panicking about his safety, ever. “What!?” “It’s caused back ups everywhere in the region, he’s probably in traffic there. It was all over the news.” “Still bad? On Christmas Eve – that’s just… that’s horrible is everyone okay?!” You father shook his head, “No. All clear now. Seems to be no major injuries.” Thank goodness for that, you breathed a sigh of relief; “Good, I hope he’s moving.” Your mother scoffed, “Probably at some bar somewhere-” “Mum, Please. It’s Christmas!” You tried your hardest not to snap at her, it took a surprising amount of control; “I know he’s not here, but please can we talk about something else?!” She stepped forward and took your face in her hands with a concerned sigh, “Oh, Y/N… One day you’re going to see what I see… and you’ll realise…” “...Maybe, but it’s not today Ma. Today Johnnie’s still my boyfriend and I still love him. And I want him home!” She let you go, and pushed passed your father into the kitchen, “Well now, both of you sit! What was the point in me preparing this food if we’re not going to eat it!?” You shrugged yourself out of your jacket, throwing it on the coat stand and ran a hand through your hair, groaning. Hopefully that was the definitive change in subject that meant Johnnie wouldn’t be brought up for the rest of the evening. And you’d certainly be praying on that one! *** Johnnie rolled the truck into the depot just as the clock ticked around to midnight. It would certainly be Christmas Day before he got back home to you. He was exhausted and he parked up, sat in his cab for a minute, head against the steering wheel groaning. At least that would be it for this year. He could relax for the next week. Clambering out of the cab, he gave his truck the once over, it looked fine - and it wasn’t like anyone was around to check it anyway. He yawned as he strolled slowly over to his car; the only one left on the lot. Rubbing his eyes, he slid into yet another driver's seat and turned on the ignition. This journey wouldn’t be so bad though, all he had to do was drive across town to your place. He fished his mobile out of his pocket - Johnnie had felt the vibration before, but had opted for simply getting the journey done instead of pulling in anywhere to check it. Aside from a bunch of Christmas well wishes, there was one from you saying you’d left for your parents. Well, now he was here that much was obvious - Johnnie thought for a minute, would you still be there? You could well be, but what would be the point in going over? He doubted they would want him crashing the party. Best to leave you to it, especially as they weren’t his biggest advocates. Instead Johnnie opted to drive home, and tapped a text back: ‘Ok, at depot, see you at home. Also sorry I couldn’t be there x’ Throwing his phone back in his pocket he pulled the car out of the lot and breathed a sigh of relief. He was almost home, he was almost back to you. You checked the text as soon as you received it, with a little smile. He could apologise for not being there all he wanted, but you really knew he’d only have been with you begrudgingly. In reality the traffic meant both your mum and Johnnie had dodged a bullet tonight. And, whilst you were a little disappointed not to have him back on time, you thought that might have been better for all of you. Finally you might have a nice peaceful Christmas - and not an argument to be had! You didn’t even bother texting him back, he’d be home before he got it anyway. And you couldn’t wait. *** When Johnnie pulled into the drive, he was almost surprised to see lights on in the house. ‘Oh? She’s back?’ Your parents didn’t want to keep you for Christmas then? They had released you! Johnnie smiled gently, at least that wouldn’t mean waiting up for your return. Although he realised you were probably waiting up for his... He opened the front door with a yell: “Babe, I’m home!” Expecting to have to catch you into a hug as you ran to him. Instead he was greeted with a call of “Welcome home!” from elsewhere in the house. He waited, but when you still didn’t appear, he frowned. That was odd; was one night away simply not long enough for you to enact your signature move? Nah, surely not! Johnnie moved through the house slowly peering into each room trying to figure out where you were - making you eventually call out again, “I’m back here!” He paused, and tipped his head with a little smirk; Oh. Bedroom, right! You probably were really waiting up for him then - and if you were comfortable in bed, he could understand your unwillingness to get out and run to him. Opening the bedroom door, Johnnie understood everything, and bit his lip a little too hard at the sight he was greeted with. Instead of being tucked up in bed you were lying provocatively across it, in fairly sheer - and festive themed - lingerie. The little look on your face was playful as your eyes met his. He tried to hold your eyes for a moment before he swept your body - the artwork of all your tattoos on full display. About the only places you didn’t have any were your face, neck and hands. Other than that, your body was a canvas of gorgeous intricate patterns. He knew the list of stories for each piece was endless, and even Johnnie didn’t think he’d heard all of them yet. You sighed seductively, rolling onto your stomach, propping your head up on your hands and swaying your legs in the air, waiting on him to make a move. “You got any new ones?” You laughed through your nose; “In 2 days? No. But I wouldn’t object to you kissing all your favourites.” “They’re all my favourites.” “Mhm?” Your tongue ran out across your lips as his eyes met yours again. “Is this my Christmas present?” You smirked, “Noooo… but you can have that if you’re good.” Johnnie took a step forward, wicked glint in his eyes as his smirk matched yours; “Well I can’t promise you I’m not about to do something that’ll get me put on the naughty list.” That only made you smirk even harder, and you knelt up, pulling him to you by his jacket. Johnnie’s hands rested on your hips for about half a second, before he started running them over your body. It felt so good to have them back on your skin. You grazed your lips to his, pulling away teasingly when he attempted to deepen the kiss, whisper seductive: “Aw, well, you should let me be the judge of that. I certainly won’t tell anyone.”

---

Thank you for reading! On the home stretch now-! 3 to go!🎉

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Table is Prepared for You

Luke’s spent too much time alone and knows he shouldn’t let anyone get too close. However, Dinah’s the one time that Luke lets his guard down--and he knows he can’t do it again. 

Vampire!Luke. Black!OC. Here it is, 14k words!

CW: Death/Near Death.

Enjoy my masterlist.

You can support me on kofi

Shout out to @notinthesameguey​ for this moodboard (below), well before any of this was finished. 

(Dinah’s hair is curly like in the first board, in case there’s any confusion!)

Inspired by: Godspeed James Blake’s Cover and Kill My Time by 5 Seconds of Summer

_______________________________________

The snow is wet under his boots and he almost wishes he could feel just how cold it is cutting beneath the leather jacket. Instead, he feels nothing but the slight crisp wisp of wind against his nose. If his body still pumped warm, he’s sure the tip of his nose would be bright red. Quickly, Luke tucks the curls whipping in the wind behind his ear and keeps his gaze trained on the constantly lapping sea the people--folks crossing the streets, cars blaring by, people brushing past him as they carry on from their subway rides back to the surface. 

“Hey!” Luke’s learned from spending time in this city, in all its evolution, just to keep walking. Whoever’s attention needs to be grabbed will either be grabbed or be missed. “Seriously, excuse me!” 

Fingers brush over Luke’s jacket and though initially he wants to bristle at the touch, Luke reminds himself it’s dead of winter. No one’s going to be alarmed. Turning, Luke walks himself to the edge of the sidewalk, mostly out of the way. “Me?” he asks. 

The young man  in front of him is doubled down in the puffy winter coat--down to his knees-- and a gray beanie. Posed in the ungloved fingers is a camera. The boy lifts up the camera, as if that will explain everything. “I-I’m working on my portfolio. I was wondering if I could shoot you right quick. Right here, doesn’t have to be somewhere fancy.”

Luke shakes his head and before he can speak, the young man continues. “I swear, I’m a photography student. I’m so close to down, deadlines right before break. Please, man. You’d be perfect. The whole thing’s about ordinary people. I shoot a few pictures. A quick five minute interview and then, you go on your merry way. Ain’t looking for trouble.”

It’s the backpack, the earnest and pleading look that pulls down the younger man’s brows. His nose is pink, fingers and hands ducking quickly into his coat pockets. “I don’t think you’re looking for trouble. I just--I don’t think I photograph well,” Luke returns, squinting his eyes at the reflection of the sun off the fresh snow. 

“Dude, take it from me, you’ve got looks. And all it would take is just the right angles, right about light exposure. Today’s a little hit or miss.”

The sky’s pretty cloudy but every so often there’s a fleck of a sunshine and Luke does his best to avoid it. The snow clouds will be leaving soon and that means Luke should be too. And it’s probably dumb to say that leaving New York is hard, the memories that are linked here. But it almost feels like home--if he could remember what home really feels like. 

Luke bites down onto his lip, head still shaking. Maybe the shaking will loosen the memories and bring them back to the surface. Maybe the shake will deter the young man’s insistence. Luke doesn’t really know how he photographs, don’t remember the last time he’s seen himself, as whole, as fully a being. Besides, Luke shouldn’t be photographed. No one’s seen him in a couple hundred years and Luke needs it to say that way, needs to continue under the radar. Not that anyone that would have a vendetta against him wouldn’t be able to find him away. The world’s really only so big in the grand scheme of things--there are only so many continents and so many countries, and so many corners to hide in the world. 

Looking over the streets, Luke almost laughs at how he picked one of the busiest and most densely populated places to hang out for a while. Maybe it’s because with so many people around there’s no way anyone would pick him out of a crowd. Until now, until some kid stopped him on the fucking street. 

“Just for your class?” Luke asks, flicking his squinted gaze back to the man. The wind’s picked up again and he’s facing into it, harshly. It’s nearly drying his eyes out. 

“Yeah, just for my class. Look,” he says, pulling out his phone. His fingers look an unhealthy color, like they’re tittering on too pink to be okay. 

“How long you been out here?” It’s a soft question that nearly gets swept up into the gust of wind that passes. 

“Couple of hours. Class starts around 1 and I need this last shoot as soon as possible.” He holds out the phone. Luke takes it, scrolling through the webpage. It’s a sleek design, each photoshoot highlighted by one picture. When Luke tapes onto it, it takes a second to load and then more pop up. There’s a quick paragraph, maybe two, and the rest of the photos.

“Where should I pose?” Luke asks, handing the phone back over. Luke will be gone soon anyway and they can’t really stand to be out in the cold for much longer anyway. 

“Wait, seriously?”

With a nod, Luke tucks more hair back and is quick to place his fingers back into his pockets. “Yeah, just tell me where.”

The young man looks around for a second, the backpack hitting the pole of the street sign. Luke winches, hoping there’s no expensive equipment in the bag. “Over here,” he says with a nod over to the corner. He starts to push through the stream and Luke follows behind him. They pause under some stairs, most likely the fire escape for an apartment complex. “Look over your shoulder for me right quick.”

Luke keeps his body pointed to the man and then looks over his shoulder for a second. “Like this?”

“Perfect. How long have you lived in the city?”

Luke shrugs, turning his attention back to the man. He inhales with a hiss, trying to think. “Couple years? Maybe three. Feels so long and it’s really not.” Luke chuckles, ducking his head for a moment. “God, my memory’s shit.” Luke thinks he hears the shutter go off but he’s not sure. 

“No, I feel you on that. I moved back for school and somehow time doesn’t feel quite the same here in the city. You in the city for modeling?”

Luke feels the shock raising his brows. “Me? Modeling?” A small laugh escapes him, mostly in sarcasm. “No, no, just have some family here. Moved from Delaware. Just seeing where life takes me, I guess.” Luke combs his fingers through his hair, pushing it all back. What he needs is a haircut, and to probably get a move on that whole finishing his trek up north. Life’s taken him plenty of places before and now it feels less like living and more like visiting. It’s going back to all those places from before and wondering how long could a life actually feel. 

“So you just float? Taking you wherever the wind blows?”

It’s only at the question that Luke realizes he hasn’t dropped his hands from his hair. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, dropping his hands. “It’s just easier. In some ways. Like I don’t really have to think too much--just find a job that pays well enough, experience what there is to experience and then, when it’s all said and done, just move on.”

“Guess you’ve learned to pack light, huh?”

Luke grins, a bit of laughter escaping him. “You could say that.” It’s not even light. It’s like having nothing. There’s the essentials of course, some special pieces that have been accrued along the way, but nothing with real weight besides memories. And even those fade eventually. He remembers certain things, important things. Like his mother’s face, or the way his brother would tease him sometimes. But he can’t remember where he grew up, not completely, just hazy rewatchings when he closes his eyes for a moment's rest. 

“What about you?” Luke asks, absentmindedly reaching up to the bottom of the stairs above his head. “You said you moved back here?”

“Yeah, I was born here. Family moved to Virginia and then I moved back. Missed it here.” There’s another shutter of the camera. “So you taking stuffy office jobs? Chasing a passion? You’re a traveler, nonetheless.”

“Odd jobs--mostly night shifts. This city never sleeps and it’s almost better to be awake when mostly everyone else is asleep. Feel less judged.” Right now he was working in the hospital. And though, it wasn’t always easy on him, he enjoyed it. 

“I don’t think anyone’s judging you too harshly. Probably most likely out of envy.”

“Thanks,” Luke says with an awkward chuckle. “Guess I’m still awkward. Unsure of myself.” And it’s easy to be unsure when you’ve seen nearly 150 years on the earth, like what else can you do? What else is there to do besides just float?

“I’ve wondered if it’ll ever go away,” the young man says, pulling down the camera from his face. “Will we ever be sure of ourselves?”

Luke nods, pondering the thought. “The one thing I’m sure of is that every choice I’ve made, I made for a reason. Like even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, I had a reason. And I hope you-you feel that way eventually. Every choice made had a reason behind it.”

“That’s kind of comforting. Like, I’m not making choices on guess, I’ve got a reason for it.”

“Yeah.” There’s a small lull and Luke looks back to the sky. The clouds look like they’re about to part. “Are-are we good? Got what you need?”

The man nods. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks. What’s your name by the way?”

“Luke. Yours?”

“Andrew. Um--” There’s a moment's pause and Andrew reaches into his pockets again. He pulls out a piece of paper and finds a pen from the pocket of his bag. “I’ll write down the name of the site. The pictures will be up by the end of the week.”

Luke takes the paper with a nod. “I look forward to seeing them.” He pockets the note and says goodbye. He’s quick in his strides to correct course back to the subway entrance and bounces down the stairs. He winds down the tunnel and finds his yellow card in his wallet. The swipe is quick as the light turns green for him to pass through. 

It’s only as his boots click against the concrete and they echo, that Luke looks at the murals, the way the eyes follow his journey. It’s not regret that settles into his gut. He doesn’t regret stopping to help Andrew. Luke hopes that Andrew is somewhere warm or on his way to somewhere warm in all honesty. But maybe what bugs Luke is that he has plans. He had plans to linger in New York for at least another six months before moving again. His last visit in Delaware had lasted nearly two years and in all truth, it was nice to settle in somewhere. But Luke knew if he got too settled in, he was going to run the risk of getting comfortable. There was a guy he had started talking to. They guy always come in late to the gym and they’d talk for a while as Luke wiped down the gym equipment. That was Luke’s sign to get out of dodge, to try and start over. 

Sure, Luke had his degrees. He had done the whole career thing. The only thing about that is building a legacy--having a face plastered somewhere so he did his ten years or so and then slipped from the grid. Went back to school, took classes in a smattering of things that weren’t related but interested him. Sure there were better things to do than work nights at gyms, or do the late shift at a theater, or wipe down dorms at colleges, but it kept him anonymous. 

Now Luke would mostly likely not be anonymous for much longer. Who knows what could happen once those pictures get posted. And Luke really couldn’t risk staying in town too much longer to find out either. So the eyes follow him, but he won’t be around for a long while. Luke hopes that they remember well. He’s sure the next time he comes back around those murals will look different, there will be more other faces to watch him click his boots to the train. 

The eyes do eventually become real. Sitting in the hospital, listening to the constant keep of the heart monitors, Luke knows almost immediately people are watching him. “Going a different route than the scrubs, Hemmings.” 

Luke looks up from his cup of coffee, brows pulling into each other. It’s one of the pediatric nurses, Lucy. “I’m sorry?” he laughs. 

She holds out her phone. The night is chilly and both of them should be wearing jackets. But there’s no use anyway. Luke knows he’s got to get back to the second floor and help get some rooms ready. Lucy could be paged at any second. “When I was grabbing my nutritious honey bun, your face popped up on my timeline.”

Luke takes the device and sees his photos, hand buried his hair as he’s posed underneath the stairwells. It is a great photo if Luke’s going to be honest. The exposure is just right even if it was a little cloudy that day and a quick skim through the paraphy tells him Andrew got a lot more from Luke than just an awkward conversation with lines like, There’s an uncertainty, an air of hyper self awareness to him. But through it all, there’s a caring heart and the want to settle--maybe that’s what we all share, a yearning for something, no matter what it is. We are wanting people. I don’t know what Luke wants; I can’t even fathom a guess. But I do know that I want him to know that he’s compassion doesn’t go unnoticed and even though it didn’t seem like I would get this project finished, I appreciate his willingness to help a stranger. 

“Andrew--he needed some help with his portfolio for photography school.”

“I keep telling you with a heart of gold and looks to kill you shouldn’t be changing bed sheets and dumping stool,” Lucy says, taking her phone back. The air’s cut by the crinkle of her plastic wrapping, her teeth sink into the icing and sweet dough. 

“It’s not all bad,” he counters, sipping his cup once again. “Last week, the older woman on floor 5, that kept saying she was going to bake for everyone--you hear about her?” Lucy nods, a soft hum coming from her. “She sent me flowers. Said I had the neatest sheet tuck she had ever seen. It’s not all bad.” Luke omits the times he sat up with her, fetching her water when her kids had to leave or when she just wanted a chat later in the evenings, he stopped to chat with her. 

“You getting sweet with the older woman, I see? Tell me, trying to get into a will?”

Barely managing to keep the sip of coffee in his mouth, Luke covers his mouth with a hand. His amusement wrinkles his nose and as the sip goes down, he lets his laughter erupt from him in the squeaks. “No, not at all.”

Lucy shrugs, her ponytail starting to fall just a little. “Look all I’m saying is you got in good with an older woman--she’d get you straight. No more sheet tucking for you.”

Luke takes her snack so she can readjust the hair tie. “When I start to really struggle, I’ll consider it,” the sentence falls with the tail end of some giggles. Silence settles back around them cut by the sips and crinkles and inevitably a pager, Lucy’s signal to twirl back into her Wonder Woman suit. 

“One of these days, I’ll be able to finish a snack. Want the rest?”

“No thanks. Gotta keep my figure now,” Luke teases. 

The half honeybun lands into the trash with an echoing thud and Lucy rushes back through the side doors but not before throwing over her shoulder, “You’re figure is fine. The older woman would kill to plumpen you up anyway.” Luke doesn’t doubt that. His own mother would also heap his plates with seconds, even if he didn’t ever ask for them. 

The morning sky hasn’t fully cracked open yet when Luke finally gets to leave, his own jacket tucking away the seafoam green color of his scrubs. There’s usually not too much life happening as he’s leaving. The end of this shit doesn’t feel much different than the others. However, in the ten minute shuffle to the subway, Luke doesn’t miss the lingering glances. Even as his body jostles with the not completely steady rattle of the train, he can feel eyes on him.

 He keeps his head down. If he doesn’t give in, the stares aren’t real. But one less stop from his neighborhood, he risks a glance up. A few heads turn away, but a couple people continue to gaze at him. He wonders if it’s the dirty blonde of his hair, or his pointed nose that seems to be holding their attention. The train lurches to a stop, doors hissing as they open. Only a handful of people step onto the train and their presence cuts the tension of recognition for a moment. Though Luke fears that that tension will haunt him. 

The sun cuts through the skies just as Luke fetches his keys from his pocket and scurries inside his complex. Waiting for the tiny apartment’s elevator to open, Luke knows he has to get out of town and soon while he’s at it. His job can replace him. He can tell them anything, and be gone within the day. As the elevator takes him up, Luke’s already drafting the email to his landlord about his unfortunate rushed exit. 

By the setting of the sun, Luke’s apartment is packed up into his two suitcases and duffle bag. He rolls his bags behind him as his boots click on the concrete. The murals watch him traveling down their corridors and Luke’s hoping they memorize the way he looks, because this is their last meeting. As the walls of concrete whizz by, Luke keeps his eyes trained to the ground. He’s not entirely sure where he’s going from here. Luke had planned to continue up and cross the border into Canada. But that plan relied on a little bit more time, smuggling his belongings across the lines well before he planned on jetting. 

It’s okay though. In the night, he can still get across. As the train comes to its stop, Luke thinks he has to get off eventually. And this stop is as good as any. So he climbs to the surface. He’s not too far from the bus terminals and he knows the airports not too far either. But he can’t fly, or he shouldn’t fly. It’s only as he gazes over the neon lights lighting up the darkening sky, that the craving hits him. 

Coffee, as well as tea, are one of the few things from his previous life that Luke still craves. It’s much more about the taste that soothes him. That and it’s easy to fake being warm with a piping hot cup of coffee or tea in his hands. Luke notices a small diner, just as two people exit from it. He’s heard about the place, hasn’t gone in just yet but maybe he ought to now and buy himself some time on his next move--he needs a paper trail, even if it goes cold. 

Inside the diner is bright, a little cramped in the way of seating. “Booth or counter?” the hostess asks. 

“Booth,” Luke returns and follows as she waves for him. The red accents do a number to date the place but it’s well kept for how long it seems to have been around. Sinking into the squeaky leather, Luke thanks the hostess for the menu. 

“Anything I can start you with?”

“Coffee. Cream and sugar.”

She nods. “Water too?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” The menu reminds Luke that he wishes, deeply, that his appetite hadn’t left him. He can eat food and does, time to time, but on the whole, nothing is quite as satisfying anymore. It’s the plate of fries that Luke keeps eyes, even as the mug and glass are placed. 

“Need more time with that menu?”

“Yes, please.” Then it’s just Luke once again, eying that plate of fries and knowing that even if he does get it, he won’t get more than a few down before his stomach clenches. 

“Let me guess.” Luke knows that voice. Though, it’s been nearly sixty years since he’s heard it. “It wasn’t me, it was you.”

“Dinah,” Luke breathes out, unsure if his eyes are actually seeing what he thinks they are taking in. 

She grins, hair just as curly and large as it was the last time he saw her. And the more Luke gazes at her, the more he notices, not much has changed about her. Her skin is still tanned. Her eyes still crinkle just a little in the smile. “It’s been, a long time,” Luke starts, unsure of how to phrase the question. 

“Got space for one more?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Luke waves to the seat opposite of him and she slips into the booth, the leather squeaking underneath her weight too. Luke’s looking for any sign of the time’s that past--a wrinkle, bags under the eyes, anything. But all he sees is Dinah, when she was 28. It’s the same Dinah that would get up during karaoke and belt out songs like she was the one recording it in a studio. It’s the same Dinah that he walked back to her place after an impromptu meeting, and though coffee at her place sounded innocuous, he knew then what that twinkle in her eye meant. 

“Shocked to see you here. Coming or going?”

“Leaving, actually.”

“Funny how life works.”

Luke furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Just got into town. Thought it would be nice to have a familiar face to show me around.” Her gaze, behind the dark brown eyes, is heavy. Her fingers play at the corner of the napkin box. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Wait--did you know I was here?”

“The internet is quite literally the world wide web,” Dinah chuckles. 

The photos. She must’ve seen them. And even if she had seen then, how did she get to New York so fast? Why would she even be looking for him? “That it is,” Luke agrees, carefully stirring the steaming drink in front of him. He can’t get over how she hasn’t aged at all. There’s nothing. She doesn’t even seem to be walking with a limp or have difficulty sitting down. As if she had somehow frozen herself in time. 

There was no way though. Who would’ve turned her? It hadn’t been him. And Luke hadn’t heard anything about attacks on human in a long time. Was Dinah not even human when they met? Was she something else? Before Luke can think of his next question, the waitress comes back. “How’s that menu looking?”

“Great,” Dinah returns. “Just a plate of fries.” There’s not even a blink of shock at the order and soon, it’s just Luke and Dinah again. 

“So, how--what have you been up to?”

Dinah shrugs. “Not much. Still singing, making ends meet. What about you?”

“Just making it really.”

“Still bouncing around, huh?”

Luke nods. “Yeah, you know me. Can’t stay in one place too long.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” The sentence comes out heavy, the end of it tilting up just a little in anger, maybe it’s resentment. 

Luke knew he shouldn’t have gone in for coffee. He knew what Dinah was looking for, what she was hoping to get. Luke liked to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t properly eaten in a while. He blamed that for his clouded judgement. The truth of the matter is that Luke wanted more out of it too. He wanted to sip on their mugs, at the dining room table. He wanted to move to the couch too. He wanted to give in. But he knew he couldn’t. The moment she got in too close, the moment he didn’t have that mug warming his hands--it would be all over for him. 

“It wasn’t because of you,” Luke counters. “My leaving wasn’t because of something you did.”

Dinah exhales, but nods. The plate of fries is placed between them and they smile up at the hostess, watching her disappear towards the counter to wrap more silverware. Dinah picks up a fry and munches on it, eyes lifted up and away. 

“You know,” she says after swallowing the bite. Her hands stretch out across the table. Instinctively, Luke pulls his hands back, attempting to duck them under the table. But she’s just as fast, if not faster and before Luke can get his hands safely out of her each, her fingers are pressed into his skin. “I always wondered what that would’ve felt like.”

She should be seeping warmth into him. She should be pulling her hand back and hissing at how cold his skin is, but instead, all Luke can feel is the weight of her fingers. How she’s pressing into his forearms and there’s actual pressure to it. “No,” Luke whispers, snapping his head up to look at her. 

Dinah’s eyes are locked in on how her hands looked wrapped around the leather jacket. Luke curls his hands around her exposed wrists. “A lot’s happened since the last time we met, if I’m honest,” she says. It’s only as they lock gazes that Luke knows. Even if she doesn’t ever say the word--Luke knows the truth. 

“Are you close by?” Luke asks. 

“All I have right now is my car. But I was looking to book a room for the night.” Dinah finishes the sentences with another handful of fries. It’s not enough of a dent to be believable, so Luke goes in for a handful too and the second the salt hits his tongue, his throat wants to close up, wants to tell him that this is not the thing it wanted. But he knows he can get it down. 

They split the cost of the ticket and then Luke follows her towards her car. He can’t shake the feel of how she was actually able to press into his skin and it felt like something. It didn’t hurt, but it was real. When he left her that night, sixty years ago, she was warm. Her blood pumped in her veins and Luke had to swallow down every urge to run his tongue over her neck, let his teeth graze her skin just to feel the quickened pulse. 

Dinah’s trunk is full with her own bags. However, Luke is able to squeeze in the bigger suitcase into the trunk before he slips the last two into the backseat. Before Dinah can even turn the key over in the ignition, Luke’s grabbing her hands again. She doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t hiss. “Either I’m insane or I’ve finally croaked.”

Dinah chuckles, slipping her hands from his. “Last time I checked, it took a hell of a lot to kill a vampire.”

Luke stares at her profile, if he had a heart to race it would be right now. Who changed her? What had Dinah gotten herself into to wind up like him? Luke runs the tips of his fingers along her jaw and then down to her neck. And there’s nothing. Much like him. No steady thrum just below the surface of the skin, no blood pumping in their veins. He presses down, nails into her skin and he’s met with some resistance. “Holy shit.” 

Luke’s only ever run into other vampires in hunts, or when new floaters happen to cross into the town he’s lingering about in. Most of the time, they only pass each other with a nod of recognition. It’s a simple act, let’s them both know there’s no trouble and keeps the number of enemies low. Luke’s never had many of those. Once or twice a vampire would come down after him about territory and he’s never really fought anyone about that. There was always a way to hang out and not cross any lines. Though, Luke hadn’t run across anyone else like him in at least 45 years. It had always been a lonely existence, but it was made exceptionally isolating when Luke felt like he was the only one on the fucking planet like this. Part of him is happy that Dinah found him. He’s relieved to know that he doesn’t walk about the living as the only living dead. 

“What happened?”

“Now ain’t that the million dollar question.” The car finally rumbles to life and the radio plays softly, an old school jazz station. “First, though, where are we headed? You know New York better than I do.”

Luke nods, exhaling. If she doesn’t want to talk about it right now, then he won’t push it. He glances out of the window and rattles off directions to a hotel that isn’t too far from them. And not too far from that is a motel just in case the first option doesn’t work. Dinah’s silent the rest of the drive. It wouldn’t be so bad if the drive took the five minutes it was supposed to take in theory. However, the lights catch them often and they sit idle, in silence, knowing something brews beneath the surface but never acknowledging it fully. 

Could have Dinah been looking for him long? Considering she hadn’t seemed to age past what she looked like sixty years ago, she definitely had to have been turned soon after Luke left. The questions all build on his tongue but he only directs her down the blocks, only lets keep straight, or make this right escape his mouth. When they pull up to the hotel, and see it bustling with folks, Luke thinks about Dinah. Had she built up a tolerance to being around humans yet? She’s still relatively young in the life span of a vampire and Luke wondered if this many people around would be setting her up for failure. 

“We can go somewhere else,” Luke suggests. “I can check us in and you can just wait in the car until I get the keys.”

“I’m okay,” Dinah returns, brows pulled together. “Are you comfortable?”

“No, I was-I was just thinking about you that’s all.”

Dinah shrugs, grabbing a backpack from back behind the driver seat and Luke pulls out his own duffle bag. Dinah’s gait is a little fast, not too fast that it looks completely unnatural. But seeing her still learning, or relearning everything she once was so good at, makes Luke smile. The learning curve isn’t a smooth turn. There are a lot of mistakes. Not blinking enough, having to make sure you’re seen eating, or something, keeping as warm as you can. Luke’s learned some tricks, hand warmers in his pockets, holding onto thermos with hot tea. Being seen in the day just enough that no one suspects anything but not bouncing about in sunlight for too long. 

It’s only in the elevator, as a few more people climb in and Luke and Dinah scoot closer together, hands brushing again that Luke thinks about what she said in the diner. I’ve always wondered what that would’ve felt like. How did she know Luke was like her? The elevator stops and a family gets off. Luke reaches forward and hits for the top floor. Dinah looks up to him, brows furrowing together. 

He shouldn’t have given into her so easily back at the diner. He should’ve stayed their longer and asked her more questions. He should’ve investigated more about what she was doing in New York. He shouldn’t have thought about they way she felt, gently brushing up against his shoulder on their walk up to her place. He shouldn’t have thought about the way she looked at him. Memories were deadly. He found Dinah at a bar. He was playing with a band at the time. Nothing too big, just enough to pay his rent in LA. But back then, it was about the love of the thing and not how much money could be attained. She was performing at the open mic night. It was just her and her ukulele but she played it so well, her heavy voice echoing around the bar. She has vocals too big, too bright, too smooth to be captured into four walls. Luke went up to compliment her, just to let her know that he recognized her talent. He wasn’t often one to go up to people. But by then he had spent almost a hundred years on the planet and hiding away in forests was getting exhausting. Luke took his venturing out to the humans slow and steady before finding his comfort level. 

And it doesn’t even help now that he’s remembering the way she called him just to talk and how they walked the beach late that night before she drove both of them back to her place. Her hair blew in the breeze off the salt water and she smelt like strawberries with a hint of something else, that at the time he hadn’t been able to place, but found it out to be a kind of hair grease. He can smell it now, as she stands next to him. 

The level their room is on finally comes up but neither one of them steps off. Instead they let the doors close and carry up to the top. Once on the top floor, they take a step off and Dinah waits. If they wanted to get onto the roof they’d have to find a staircase and fast before someone just sees them standing about and not heading to a room. Luke peels off the left and she follows, pushing her back up higher on her shoulder. She is silent as she follows and thankfully, at the right turn at the end of the hallway they’re met the stairs. Up they go, and even the locked door, it does not remain locked. The night looks different up this high--they’re closer to the stars, or what would be stars but are more than likely just the lights reflecting off the city below. 

“Who sent you? And what do they want?”

“No one sent me, Luke. What’s going on?”

“No one knows. I haven’t told a soul what I am. But you know. I didn’t leave you a note when I left. So how do you know? Are they using you as a lure to get to me?”

Dinah stares up to the sky, trying to keep the tears at bay. Her throat seizes for a moment. “You left. And I went looking, hanging out at the bars we used to go. I couldn’t find you. So I asked a couple folks around. And I fucking asked the wrong questions, I guess. Or maybe I was asking the wrong folks.”

Wrong questions? What wrong questions could she have been asking? Luke didn’t keep close to anyone. Or he tried not to at least. He wasn’t always good at it. Seeing as Dinah’s standing in front of him right now. Luke wants to take a step forward. He wants to give into her. Her gaze hasn’t dropped from the skies and he can see the way her throat constantly works, as if tears are produced in the throat, as if that will keep her from crying. “Who were you talking to? What are you talking about? You sure it’s not the council?”

Dinah shakes her head. “No one’s after you Luke. But me. I could’ve given you up. I could’ve let you be, but I couldn’t. Not after what happened.”

“That’s the thing, nothing happened Dinah. As much as I wanted to, as much as I thought about it, nothing happened that night.”

She shakes her head, lips pushed together into a tight line. “No, you left and I thought it was weird and I wanted to be angry with you. But most of all, I was confused. I wanted to know why had left. And damn, it wasn’t like you left that night and I ran into two weeks later. You completely disappeared. No one at the bar knew where you went. I talked to the guys that were in your band. Two of them had not a clue where you had gone and they were pissed, but they moved on. Mike talked to me later, told me I should just let the whole thing go. He kept saying I was eventually going to bark up the wrong tree at the right time.”

“Mike?” Luke questions. Mike was always a little out there, that was undeniable. He was deep into his history and deep into the supernatural. But not in any sort of way that made Luke super suspicious of him. 

Dinah nods. “Yeah, he left before I really as him what he was going on about and when I called him the next day, I got no answer. Didn’t shock me. But then the rest of the band noticed Mike had just turned up missing. Mike and I--we started hanging out more. Even though I thought it was a little strange at first, he was definitely still sweet. That didn’t sit well with me. I waited for a little bit, then made a police report. And I don’t know. Maybe that’s what tipped the scales. Or maybe the scales were tipped from the start. I’m leaving the bar one night after a show, the rest of my group’s left already. But I hung back to watch the last few people play. And these two guys keep buying me drinks. I took the first one, just to be polite and they were kinda cute. 

“One drinks turns into two. Two drinks turns into them approaching me. They ask me about my music; it all seems fine. We have good conversation. They leave the bar before me. They fucking left! That’s what will never fail to get me. They fucking left and halfway to my place. I get the feeling that I’m being followed. I don’t see anyone behind me. But I’ve always trusted my gut. So I start picking up the pace a little and I round the corner. Run into the same two guys before the bar. We chat for just a little bit longer. I keep fidgeting because I can’t see if anyone’s behind me. Everyone seems not suspicious. They offer to walk me home.”

“They were following you,” Luke deduces. “And they cut you off after they realized you were picking up on them to make it seem like a big whole coincidence.”

“Yeah. We walked and they asked me some questions about who I knew out in L.A. They were new in town and were trying to get their footing. So I was telling them about my band, and I mentioned Mike and your band. Never mentioned your name. Didn’t even want to utter it, or think about it. But just that small connection was the tiny piece. We got to my place and I was getting ready to tell them goodnight when one of them hauled me inside. He was really cold to the touch. I tried to fight back but, it wasn’t even like anything I did affected them. They kept asking me about you and if I knew. I didn’t know what they were on about. I was like, the guy up and left me and his friends, don’t know anymore than that.

“They kept saying I had to know something Mike knew a lot, gave it all up very quickly. The other one kept smelling my hair and neck and I could feel how sharp his teeth were. I told them I didn’t want to die. I would give them anything they wanted, I just didn’t want to die.” She can see the sinister gleam to their eyes, even now. They way they looked at each other, sharing the same thought. All Dinah knew is that she’d do whatever not to die. 

“They were from counsel? The two guys?”

“Don’t really know for certain. I haven’t seen them since, though I went looking. They tortured me. Small bits along my arms and legs, saying that I would tell them everything I knew. And they warned me that others that caught wind of my explorations wouldn’t be so generous. But all I really remember is just how my body felt like it was going cold but also every nerve ending felt like it was being stabbed, over and over and over again. I think I blacked out once or twice from the pain. I remember small bits of them arguing and then I woke up later in a shallow grave.”

“They buried you?” 

“Guess so. I’m not really sure what happened but I think I was carried when I heard them bickering. And when I came too, my arms were crossed over my chest. I could feel things crawling on me. First thought was I was in a sewer or something, but then things felt kinda loose. Stuff was in my nose and it smelled earthy. I panicked at first but it didn’t take me too much longer before I clawed my way out, realizing I had been buried.”

“So what did they want with you that had to do with me? Do you know who council is or what it is?”

Dinah nods. “I know who they are.”

It’s a fact, cold as it falls from her lips. Luke gazes at her, the way she blinks rapidly. His body is carrying his forward. One step, then another and soon, he’s closed the gap between them. He takes her hand, thumb stroking at her knuckles. “Hey, it’s alright.”

A harsh exhale leaves her, a scoff--it carries all the pain she’s yet to utter. Luke hears how heavy it is. Dinah finally brings her gaze to Luke’s face. The piercing blue eyes and button nose. It shocked her initially. When she saw his picture pop up on her social media. He hadn’t aged a day, it was as if someone had found a way into her memory of Luke and perfectly recreate it. 

Dinah holds a steady gaze as she talks. “Council were the ones that found me. I stayed out in the woods. I didn’t know what had happened to me, but I knew it wasn’t good. And I wanted to cry, but it hurt too damn much. Being in the sun hurt. I was in pain, and I couldn’t tell what would ease it. In the day, I had to find ways to hide, tucked into trees, finding tiny caves or places to hide. Some hikers came by. I smelled them. And I knew, or at least I figured what it might be, what I might’ve turned into.

“Council found me. Apparently, there aren’t many of us hanging around the parts of LA. They were coming into town anyway to see how the rest of us were holding up, behaving. They caught the two that tortured and turned me. They were trackers of the council. Only sent out to sniff out the town. They found Mike, tracked him down. They found me.  Apparently, they had actually killed Mike, but not me.”

Luke always knew those guys were getting older and possibly dead. He tried not to linger too much in the past. He didn’t read obituaries. He didn’t even halfway have social media. Luke liked to think that they would always be able to grow old though. That they would always have the one experience he did not, they could live a life. They could settle down. They could see children grow up and have grandchildren, even great grandchildren. Luke was stuck, permanently. 

“Fuck, not Mike.” Mike--well, he was Mike. In all his eccenteries, he was still a good guy, he had been planning on asking this girl that he had been seeing to take a step up in their relationship. Or that’s what Luke last remembers. Luke pictured Mike married, a house full of dogs, maybe a couple kids. That idea suited Mike, who liked the calmer things in life. It still guts Luke though, shoulders sagging. He turns away, looking out over the city. God, Mike dead such a horrific death--terrified and unsure of what was happening to him or why he was the one targeted. And if Luke had just kept to himself, if Luke hadn’t been so fucking cursed to be lonely. 

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Dinah says. 

Luke shakes his head. “No, don’t be sorry. I’m-I’m the one’s that sorry.” There’s a silent pause. “Fuck,” he exhales again. “I-I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. Not you and not Mike either.” He can feel his own fingers starting to tremble now. He should’ve stuck around in town. He could’ve intercepted the trackers and told them that Dinah and Mike weren’t aware of anything, that they were just people living lives in all it’s boringness sometimes. 

“God,” Luke croaks. “I am so fucking sorry. I should’ve stuck around. I could-I could’ve saved Mike and you.”

Dinah grabs onto his shoulders, though she’s always been a good head shorter than Luke, she does her best. It’s more shoulder blade and back than shoulder. She wants to tell him she doesn’t blame him. Well, at least not now. Before she did. Before she was angry. Before she dreamed of being able to confront Luke and rip him a new asshole. She wanted to know why he left and because he left, it left her like this--not dead but not alive either. 

And sure, there’s still some anger. Sure, Dinah wants answers. Most of all, she just wants connection. She has spent the last sixty years, in and out of jobs, mostly holed up, always bouncing from town to town. She was terrified to get too close. But loneliness is heavy. It made her shoulders ache and if she could lay in bed and sleep days, months, years away, she would. Because it was better than walking through this life, if that’s the word to use, alone. 

Luke escaped her house, exiting through her own front doors as she went to the restroom and vanished. Dinah hadn’t always planned on tracking Luke down. The council took her in for a couple of decades. She learned the rules and the laws of this new version of herself. But council wasn’t the greatest company. They were too busy giving into every desire, too busy attempting to rule people, and at the time she was merely a servant role. She listened in on meetings, waiting for one of them to ask for a refill of their glass or to fetch a live drinking fountain, as they liked to call humans. And Dinah knew she couldn’t stay there forever. They let her go with ease, surprisingly. Though she has to check in every once and a while. They told her that they were family, and family always checked in on each other. 

It didn’t feel like family, but it was something and almost every decade or so, Dinah would think about going back. When she first got back out into the world, she had to figure out how to lay low, make some money to get by in the world, but not stick around for too long that suspicion would be raised. That’s when Luke came back to her, that’s when she realized all the things she wanted previously, the house and the husband, and the kids were something she’d never be able to achieve. 

“I was angry for a long time,” Dinah says. “And I don’t know. Call it stubbornness and stupidity, call it having all the time in the fucking world, but I knew I’d find you. I knew I could finally get some answers.”

There’s nothing malicious in her touch. It’s a soft presence, even as she slides her down his back and then it’s gone. They’re standing side by side. “I’ll answer any questions you have.” It’s the least he can do, after everything that has happened. It won’t feel like enough. Even as Luke lets the promise cross his lips, it’s not enough for the amount of years she’s spent hurt and confused, and angry. 

“We did pay for a room, so no sense in not using it, don’t you think?” Dinah offers. If she’s honest, she still doesn’t trust the night all too much. Some nights, ones that are too pretty and too serene, make her tense. She knows it’s fear—it’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She still watches over her shoulder. The thing that she can only really be herself in is the same thing that strikes fear into her. 

They climb back through the stairs and into the elevator in silence. It’s a little tense, Luke can feel it pressing onto him through the jacket. What questions does she have? Surely, waking up realizing that you’re not dead but not who you used to be is not an easy thing to discover. And surely, there’s part of terror that won’t be leaving her anytime soon. What counselor would be prepared for that either? Luke thought about seeing one. But it never seemed to be a fruitful thought. 

The light on the door lights up green as Dinah holds the card to the reader and the gears click. All Luke notices though is the tight line her shoulders are in and the way she’s fast to click the lights on. The door closes with a heavy thud, gears clicking back into place. “What do you want to know?” Luke asks, letting his bag dropping on the left side of the bed. 

Dinah takes a seat at the chair in front of the desk. “When you left that night, did you know? About the trackers, about council coming into town?”

Luke shakes his head. “Didn’t have a clue.” 

Then it crosses her face, the piece of the puzzle that’s just never click for her. If Luke did know about the trackers and did leave to be avoided, it would make sense. If Luke was attempting to cover his own ass, and Dinah just happened to be in the crosshairs, it would suck, it wouldn’t make her happy, but it would finally make everything make sense. “So why the hell did you leave?”

Luke sighs, staring at the gray and green in the carpet of the floor. His brain’s telling him to say, had to. “I couldn’t stay in town.”

“But you just said that you didn’t know about the trackers!” Dinah pops up from the chair. Even though it’s a good six feet between them, she covers them before Luke can look up from the floor. Her finger pressed into his chest. “You just said that.”

Luke nods. “I-I know. I mean--” Is he about to tell her the truth? Won’t it sound silly now? Won’t it make him sound like a fucking coward? 

“Luke,” she warns. The finger presses in deeper. 

“You were human, or I assumed. I was always this,” Luke gestures to himself, as if trying to brush away something, but all he’s done is reveal himself. “We were getting too close. I was letting you get too close.”

“So, so you left.”

“Yes. To be fair, normally, my past doesn’t come back around. I’m the only one that ever remains. You know, though. You know when you invited me inside that it wasn’t a friendly chat. I knew it. I wanted to give in. I mean, fuck, you’re,” the words are failing him. Because all he can see in her eyes are just how dark they are, just how much they don’t want to let light in, but have always shone brightly. “I found you really attractive. Find? Found? Fuck, I don’t know anymore. But I couldn’t give in. You’d know something was different. You’d know I was different.”

“Because you run cold?”

“It’s not-not just that. That’s a give away for sure. But, we-- we don’t always feel a hundred percent human. And sure, I could’ve explained away that, and the fangs, and literally anything physical. But if I let myself give in that night, I’d have to let himself give in every night after that.”

Dinah furrows her brows. “Did-did you like me?” She won’t ask if he still does. That was so many decades ago.  By now, Luke has surely run into someone new. He had to have moved on. 

“Like feels much too simple. But yeah, I did like you, Dinah. I had spent a lot of time hiding before you met me. I was lonely and then I met the guys in the band. And then I met you and for those hours at night, when we played shows or hung out drinking, I almost remembered what it was like to be human. It was a lot easier to leave before anything happened.”

Her gut feels like a storm. She’s angry--that Luke left, that she got attacked, that Mike died. But she’s also heavy with sadness, all those feelings she thought she had buried are resurfacing. She liked Luke too. She thought maybe she had found someone that was finally going to see her for who she was, not what she looked like, not the color of her skin. And sure LA at the time wasn’t the worst place but it still had it’s issues. Her palms press into his chest and she pushes Luke. It’s hard, more so than what she intended. It sends up backward, with just enough time to stop himself from slamming into the wall, if not through it into the other room. “I thought-I thought for a long time something bad had happened to you. I went around asking about you! I worried myself beyond belief. No one could get a hold of you! You were a fucking ghost.”

Luke catches the lamp as it teeters on the edge of the stand. It’s light flickers before remaining steadily on. “I-I’m sorry.” But sorry really doesn’t fix it, he knows. Because if Luke hadn’t left in the night, then maybe, Dinah wouldn’t have asked around. And maybe the trackers wouldn’t have singled her or Mike out. 

“You know, I almost wish you had known about the trackers. I wish I was just caught at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“If I knew trackers were coming, I would’ve stuck around. I would’ve shown them that you and Mike weren’t a threat. But I didn’t. I didn’t have a clue. And I’m so sorry about what happened to you. And I wish I could’ve done something.”  The rest of the thought stops on the tip of his tongue, but I can’t. 

“I hate the night,” she confesses softly. The words sound like they barely want to leave her throat. “I hate it because it’s halfway the only time I can be me, I’m not under a thousand layers. And I hate it because that’s when you left. And I hate it because even though the council killed those two trackers, I still feel them watching me.”

“You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to carry that anxiety either.” Luke finally pushes up off the wall, praying there’s no real damage. He doesn’t dare check now though. 

Dinah’s just watching him, attempting to keep the shakes in her hands at a minimum. She can’t tell if she fully blames Luke or not. She can’t know for certain that if Luke hadn't left that she would’ve never been changed. She can’t know for certain that if Luke didn’t leave that the trackers could’ve been stopped, or that they wouldn’t come back. “If you had stayed, wouldn’t you have left eventually? Isn’t that what you’re doing now leaving?”

Luke knows he would’ve left eventually. Even if he didn’t stay around longer, even if he hadn’t run away that night, he would’ve eventually left. It’s all he’s good at--leaving. “I could’ve stayed there forever, no. Eventually, I would’ve left you. But I wouldn’t have left you like I did. I would’ve told you something easy to handle. A bear attack that was terrible. Maybe I tell you I’m leaving to go back home to my family for an emergency and I get on a train and for whatever reason, I don’t make it to the destination I told you I was going. And a letter comes in the mail a few weeks later, telling you what happened because your address is written down on a piece of paper in the pocket of the pants I’m wearing. And that lie would’ve hurt, whichever lie I choose, but it’s much better than just disappearing into thin air. I know that now. I didn’t know that then.

“And I was scared too. I keep moving because I don’t want to get too close. I don’t pursue careers anymore. I take jobs no one wants. I hide because it’s so much easier. Dinah, you terrified me because you reminded me just how human I fucking was at one point. How much I still am some days. I bounce around because I’ve been on this fucking earth for 150 years and it’s only been me. I don’t have a group, I don’t have anyone else. And I could’ve had you--I wanted to have you.” 

The night Luke disappeared Dinah left to go to the bathroom and she was using it mostly as an excuse. She wanted to freshen up, rid her breath of some of the tequila she had in her drink. But mostly, she wanted just a moment to think what her next steps were going to be. Luke and her were hanging out pretty consistently, mostly at night, after gigs. She drove around town, across county lines to watch him and his band perform. He traveled for her shows too. That night, they hadn’t made official plans to meet up, but they knew each other well enough to know where to find the other. 

It was the walk back, as she stared up at the cut of his jaw and the watched the way he smiled that she felt bold enough to invite him into her place. And coffee sounded better than come inside, hang out with me until I decide if I’ll have the guts to ask if this can go up the ladder, if they could take this a bit more seriously. And sure, they flirted. And sure, Dinah knew she couldn’t have that kind of conversation after sex, but she wanted to know the harm in letting herself go. For all the free spirit she is, Dinah didn’t like jumping into bed with someone that she wasn’t attempting to get serious with. Things were going well, better than she had ever considered to go. And sure there were stares and murmurs about them hanging out. And sure, Dinah worried about her safety at that time too, less so because Luke is white and surely, he wouldn’t turn up in a river. 

But when she finally came back from the bathroom, Luke was gone. All that was left behind was a note, on a napkin that said Sorry. And Luke was gone. Dinah hadn’t even heard the door closing behind him on his departure. How could he just leave if he wanted her so bad though? 

“Was it just what we are? Did you leave just because you weren’t like me then?”

“It’s not like council gives you a slap on the wrist for getting involved with a human. If they found out, I knew what consequences were at play. I didn’t want and I don’t want this for you. I left because they’d kill me, change you, or kill the both of us. I left because there was no way I could give you a normal life, and that’s what I wanted for you. I saw the looks people gave you hanging around me. I saw what was happening.”

Dinah’s never been the one that got away to Luke. She’s always been the one that Luke let go. She’s the one that if Luke could go back, and tell himself not to leave like he did, he would. If Luke could go back, he’d burn that note, that sorry ass apology. Tucked away, hidden beneath all the fear, is a tiny piece of hope that Luke did run into her again. That she had lived the life he wanted for her, and that she had grandkids and then maybe, they could meet in secret again. That she hadn’t forgotten about him. Truth be told, Luke always had a table prepared for her, a tiny piece of his heart that always remembered the way she laughed and the way purple lights and red lights on stage dazzled against her skin. 

“That wasn’t your call. That was mine,” Dinah returns. There’s still a gap between them, from when she shoved him. It feels too wide, too far to close. 

“I-I can’t say I was trying to protect without sounding like a fucking idiot, after what happened. But honest to whatever fucking being exists out there, I left because I was scared. I left because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I left because I thought it was the best thing to do. And I know I hurt you regardless. And I know shitty things happened despite my best efforts. But please believe me, Dinah, I didn’t think this would happen. I couldn’t have thought it up in my wildest dreams.”

The lights in the ceiling of the room are bright against the white. Dinah doens’t even blink at the harshness. Luke watches the way she swallows, head shaking side to side. He takes a step, just one and she snaps her attention to him at the movement. His keeps his hands raised. “Di, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” It’s one word. It’s hardly audible. No one’s called her that since Luke left. She makes sure no ones calls her that. He called her that all the time when she called, or after she sang him a new song she was working on. His eyes would always be so bright and he’d smile at her like she was the sun, like she was somehow unbelievable and not real, but somehow still in front of her.  “You don’t get to call me that anymore,” she whispers, taking a step back. 

Luke inches a little closer. “You gotta believe me. When I say I’m sorry.”

“I don’t have to believe anything. I don’t have to do anything.” But the truth is, she does want to believe him. She does want him to call her ‘Di’ again like he used too. She wants to know that even though it’s been sixty years and even though she’s still angry a little bit, she hadn’t forgotten how easy it was around him. 

Luke steps forward again and Dinah doesn’t back away. Though, he does note how close she is to the closet. “Do you remember when we stayed up late, jamming to a new song you were working on? I don’t even know how you managed to do it. But we stayed up almost until sunrise--laughing at everything, even if it wasn’t funny. And I pressed your clothes while you got two hours of sleep. I made you pancakes and you got pissed because I didn’t add chocolate chips to them. And you always put chocolate chips into your pancakes. And you told me to take it to the grave that you thought my pancakes were better than your mother’s. I told you that had to be a lie because I was shit cook, but I didn’t want you going to work on an empty stomach.”

“Of course I remember. And when I got back home, you left a note with the recipe and I don’t know what you did, but I wasn’t able to replicate them.” 

“And I had the pancakes that your mom made, you made them for me that next night. And I will say, I have never had better pancakes.”

“Why? Why you bringing that up?”

“Because that night was the first time I gave into you. That was the first night in decades for me that I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t thinking about making sure I didn’t get too close. That was the first night where I thought about what a normal life might look like for me. I watched you sleep and I thought about if that could be normal for us. And it was the first time I was scared shitless in a long time. I was scared when my family died and I couldn’t even be there. I was angry too. And after their funerals, I figured I wouldn’t find that kind of bond again--I would make myself not get too close. And then we stayed up almost until sunrise and I pressed your clothes because you wouldn’t stand for going into work with a wrinkle in that blouse.”

“I’ll have you know it won’t easy getting an office job at that time. I had been a cook or running food for plenty of years prior to that. And I wasn’t going to mess up a good opportunity like that job showing up in a wrinkled blouse.”

Luke laughs, softly, reaching out for her hands. Dinah hadn’t even noticed him creeping in closer to her. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy. What can I do? What can I do now to show you I really mean it? That I’m so sorry for what happened. I’d do whatever it was to make it up to you.”

“I-I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Not right now at least. I need time, Luke. I just--I don’t know what to do right now.”

“We got plenty of that,” Luke counters, brushing his fingers down her jaw. She doesn’t duck out of the touch. She still doesn’t quite feel real under his touch, in front of him. Luke’s sure he’s conjured her up. That he’s going to come to and be sitting in the cafeteria of the hospital and have daydreamed the whole thing up. “There’s plenty of time.”

Dinah can see it, the lean in and she shakes her head. That storm hasn’t gone away in her gut. She still hasn’t figured out if she wants to give into Luke or not. She does want to forgive him. She wants to move on now that she has her answers. “That’s a lot of years, a lot of hurt left.”

Luke nods, dropping his hand from her cheek and takes a small step back. “I understand.” He clears his throat, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. A few curls still fall down in front of his face. “I-I don’t need the bed,” he offers, stepping out of the way. 

It’s an out. And Dinah doesn’t take it. “I don’t need the bed either.”

“I-I haven’t gotten used to that, clearly.” 

Dinah watches the way Luke works his teeth over his bottom lip. His gaze turned down to the floor. She takes his head, threading her fingers through his. “Thanks. For understanding. For answering, honestly. I believe you, about everything. I just need to sort out my own feelings. Because those feelings haven’t gone away, from all our nights together. I just need to figure out what to do with them.”

Luke doesn’t miss the dark brown on her nails, the way it contrast against her skin but isn’t that much darker than the color of her tanned skin. He looks at the chipping red on his nails, the gel that’s grown out. He almost forgot the manicure. It was self administered, but kind of unevenly applied. “We can just talk then, about whatever, about nothing. I’ve missed a lot.”

“It’s not all that glamorous. Much of it is probably like you know, lonely.”

“Surely you’ve had some adventures though. You worked for council--that must’ve been something in and of itself.”

“They’re old and boring. The better story is me at Mardi Gras for the first time.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Luke smiles. He remembers the first time he stumbled across Mardi Gras, how the music almost never ceased and ate more human food than he ever had in a long time. But it all smelt so good and everyone kept handing him drinks and plates ane he couldn’t say no.

“I’m--I just want to shower first.”

“Okay.” It’s soft and Luke’s slow to remove his hand. He’s forgotten what it feels like to hold someone else’s hand, without fear. She grabs her bag and the bathroom door clicks closed softly behind her. Luke stands there for a moment, watching the handle for the slightest movement, listening to see if the shower starts up. Once the pitter of water hitting the basin starts to echo, he surveys the room. 

The wall’s thankfully not damaged in any significant way. The lamp’s in good shape too. Those it’s clear on the rug where Luke skid back just a little. He runs a hand over it, to get rid of the harsh line and finally opens up his own bag. He peels himself out of the leather jacket, draping it over the back of the desk chair. It’s easy to pull out a plain white t-shirt and some shorts for him to change into. 

The air unit rumbles and the water from the shower echoes, long after Luke’s changed out of the jeans. He keeps the volume low on the TV and almost goes to turn the overhead lights off, but opts to keep them on remembering the way Dinah talked about the night and how tense she seemed to be walking into a dark room. The mattress gives easily under Luke’s weight. He pushes the pillows all the way up against the headboard and reclines into it. There’s nothing to do right now but wait.

 Part of Luke does worry that all Dinah wanted out of him were answers. That she’d manage to slip out some kind of way and she’ll always just be a fragment of Luke’s life, a piece that he would always hunger after but never be able to satiate. However, the bathroom door cracks open and a tiny bit of steam escapes out in the air not occupied by Dinah. It’s just a tank top and leggings but Luke’s quick to turn his attention back to TV. It’s definitely not the gown she used to sleep in all those years ago. But even then, that felt scandalous too. And maybe it’s not even the clothes themselves, it’s just Dinah and the attraction that Luke never lost. 

Dinah settles next to Luke on the bed, watching first just the TV screen. “So Mardi Gras was the first time I realized that because I didn’t have hardly any blood in me, getting drunk takes a lot more than it used to.”

Luke tries to hold back his laughter, one hand covering his mouth. “Do not tell me that you were just slamming back drinks and suddenly realized folks were looking at you crazy for not being drunk.”

“No, of course not. I was absolutely told that in order to feel the same affects from alcohol before I required a lot more than before. No, no one told me. Though, my stomach at the time was use a pretty blood heavy diet, so eating and drinking human food made me queasy. So when I vomited shortly after, folks stopped staring so much afterwards.” Luke lets the giggles escape him, shoulders shaking as he holds onto the remote. “I did however, keep that in mind when I went to Carnival.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow. “Are we talking like, a carnival cruise ship?”

Dinah shakes her head, no, laughing. “No, definitely not the cruise ship. Trinidad Carnival. I heard from some other girls about it. They invited me to go with them. I looked good that trip.”

“Was this during the day?”

Dinah waves a hand. “Details, details.” Though they can withstand some sun, they can’t handle a lot of it. And in Trinidad, Luke can only assume there’s a lot of sun. Now, if Dinah knew about the fact that they can handle more sun if they’ve previously had some blood. It’s not a significant increase on the amount of time they can be out in the sun, but it is a decent bump up. “I kept to the night mostly, but I did hunt a little so I could go out during the day.”

Luke nods. It could be from her time with council or it could be just trail and error on her learning. He doesn't push on the details though. “Speaking of hunting, what’s your prefered diet?”

“It’s not polite to ask a woman about her weight you know.” It almost sounds serious until Luke sees the smile lifting her cheeks. 

“Pardon me then.”

Dinah shakes her head, a small tuft of laughter trailing off. “I go mostly for animals. But I have had human blood. It’s a treat? Which is not something I thought I’d ever say in my lifetime.”

“It’s wild times for sure.”

“You?”

“Considering I’ve been living in plain sight for the last hundred plus years, I don’t give into human blood much. Was kind of hard when working in a hospital.”

“You worked in a hospital?”

“I changed sheets and cleaned up waste. It wasn’t glamorous.”

Dinah thinks back to when she ran into Luke. At that time, he was working in the local grocery store. Rumor had it before he disappeared he was lined up to take over as manager. Dinah wonders if that was considered as getting too close. “Is Luke your-”

“It is,” Luke answers. “It is my real name. I change the last name now most often. I’ve used aliases for my full name before too.”

“The tricks we all have to learn in order to survive,” Dinah comments. 

Luke hums in agreement. “I stopped using first name aliaser a while ago. Luke’s a pretty common name. No one really cares.”

“When you say a while ago, I hope you don’t mind after me.”

Luke shrugs, giving neither a here nor there answer. Though, she’ll know the truth. It didn’t feel like lying before. It felt like survival. It felt like the smart thing to do, to bury who he was and become whomever he needed to be at the time. But after Dinah that all changed. A lot changed after her, but he doesn’t offer that up. He swallows that thought back down and flicks his gaze back to the TV in front of them. 

“What’s up next for you?” Dinah knows she shouldn’t ask. She shouldn’t have so much hope in her voice. 

“Take a bus somewhere, anywhere really. I’ve learned to travel light and just go wherever feels right.”

“So where feels right to you?”

“North,” Luke answers, turning his head to look at her. She’s picking at her nails, head hanging low on her neck. “What about you?”

At first it’s just a shrug. “I’m kind of tired of moving around. And I feel silly saying that to you. You’ve been dealing with this shit for a lot longer.”

“The only thing that kept you going before was probably the hope of running into me. So it makes sense. Now you’ve gotta recalibrate. Figure out what you want next.”

“I want to settle down. I know I won’t ever have the normal life or the kids, or grandkids that I wanted. But I’ve bounced from a few covens that were nice enough to let me stay and I guess I’ve always been a sucker for the found family idea.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, settling down. Just requires some money and the right place.”

Dinah nods at Luke’s comment. She was a little screwed on the money part. She didn’t have much before her change and in the time she had left the council, a lot of what she made went towards her car and the ventures to find Luke. Now, she had to figure out where she could settle down and what work she could get to help her save up. The conversation turns into a small lull, both of them watching the show on the TV. 

Luke didn’t want to lose Dinah a second time. But there was no way he could just ask to join her. Not after she told him that she had to sort of her own feelings. It’s easy to see though. It’s easy to feel how things feel like they’re almost picking back up from when they last met. But it’s not an edge to it, a bit of tension. So Luke lets the question linger on the back of his tongue but doesn’t voice it. The conversation takes a turn to a story about how Dinah’s saved quite a few cats from trees and Luke shares a few stories about his time at the hospital, the older woman that hit on him. 

Before they even realize, the sun’s peeking in from the curtains of the room. And even sooner than that, the sun starts to caress the horizons again. Luke doesn’t know where he’s going to wind up, what he’s going to be doing tomorrow let alone what will happen in a couple of weeks. He scribbles down his email though onto the hotel stationary. He makes sure to tuck into the palm of her hand at the entrance of the bus station. “Do you remember the address of the bar we met at?” Luke asks. 

Dinah nods. “Yeah I do. It’s not a bar anymore. It’s part of some shopping center now or it was the last time I checked.”

Luke nods, it was a shopping center when he last went by it too. “Meet me there. When you get those feelings sorted out.”

Dinah almost tells him that he should join her. He should stop running and finally settle down. Though, that could be her projecting more than it is what he actually wants. Dinah glances at the paper at the email address scribbled across it. “I can do that.”

“Reach out. Anytime. If that changes, I’ll let you know well in advance.”

“Who’s leaving who?” Dinah asks. It feels stupid to ask right now. If she really didn’t want Luke to go, she had every chance last night and during the day. 

“Maybe this isn’t leaving.” Luke needs it to be leaving. He wants to invite himself along. He wants to join along because it’s Dinah. Because he’s got a second shot with her. But he’s not sure if settling down is smart, right now. If it’s what he needs to do. “Maybe it’s just ‘see you around’ like an until next time. Now you don’t have to track me down. “

*********

Luke’s sitting at the bar, a towel thrown over his shoulder. The night’s yet to begin really. It’s early and a Friday night. There’s no doubt in his mind thought that in another couple of hours the entire place will be packed with a flood of people. A new patron wanders in and slides up to the bar. Luke greets them with a smile, taking in the dark curls on their head but he knows it’s not Dinah. He keeps hoping. He keeps praying, but so far in the month and a half he’s been here, she’s yet to show up. 

They’ve talked extensively over the last couple of months. Luke went north for a little bit, but ultimately his gut told him to head south and go west. So he did. He landed back just north of where he lived last time out in LA. He had a gut feeling, something that itched the back of his brain and told him that Dinah would just randomly show up in LA. She wouldn’t wait to make a date and time to meet. Luke wanted to beat her to the punch.

“Cider please,” the woman asks, listing off the house brand. Luke checks the ID before reaching for a clean glass and pulls the level for the tap. 

“Opening or closing?” he asks. 

“Just the one,” they return, handing over the card. It’s a few more seconds before the receipt prints off for them to sign and they disappear to the floor, off to a booth. Half an hour later, more people filter in and head towards their booth. 

Luke hangs back, making sure all his bottles are full and ready for the night, that there are no messes on the spill mats though soon he knows there will be the inevitable spill from him. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he steals a moment to look at it. A notification for a new email. On instinct, he’s quick to open it and a brand new email sits in his inbox. The subject sends him into a frenzy. 

Meet me downtown. At the dive bar. 

Just as Luke goes to reply, not bothering with the body of the email, a voice calls out to him from the bar. “What should a girl drink around here?”

When Luke lifts his gaze from his phone, he laughs. Dinah’s dressed in her old school signature red jumpsuit, those it’s definitely been revamped since the last time he’s seen it. Her hair’s braid back into a mohawk. But it’s still Dinah. “What are you looking for? Something sweet? Something to knock you off your ass?”

“Little bit of both.”

Luke starts to make her a drink, remembering from all their adventures what she’s always been partial to a little tequila. “How’d you find me? This isn’t our meeting spot.”

Dinah shakes her head. “You told me where you got a job. Or did you forget?”

The orange drink settles in front of her and Luke tilts his head to the side. “I don’t remember telling you.”

There’s a snort that cuts through the chatter and music of the bar. “Well, you did. Which is why I’m here.”

A group walks up to the bar and Luke excuses himself for just a second to help them. It’s a minute between setting up shots and drinks, but Luke watches Dinah from the corner of her eye. She stays perched at the bar counter, sipping at the tequila sunrise. Luke winks at her, pulling the last bit of sprite into the drink and sets it onto the counter. The group opens a tab and starts on their way back towards the dancefloor. 

Luke’s sure he probably did tell her where he’s working. He’s sure that he wanted to be explicitly clear that he was waiting on her. Maybe it was just his own brain playing tricks on him. Even though he was around forever, didn’t mean he wasn’t exempt from the occasional brain fart. “So, if you’re here,” Luke starts, wiping his hands on the towel, “I hope that means feelings have been sorted.”

“Yes,” Dinah laughs. “Yes they have been. But I don’t want to impede on your job.”

“Told you it was only a matter of time. My shift ends at 2. If you don’t want to hang around, I get it. Just meet me back here and we can go and talk and I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Or I could sit here all night, staring at you, and then we leave for your place for chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Both of those work,” Luke laughs. Briefly, he runs a hand over hers. She’s real and she’s here. From wherever she’s been, Dinah’s sitting across the bar from Luke right now. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on. If you ever found that place to settle down at.”

Dinah squeezes his hand, unsure of what she can say, of what words convey how relieved she’s here, sitting across from him. “We do have a lot to catch up on. But thank God we’ve got plenty of time, right?”

She’s not insinuating what he thinks she is. Luke’s sure he’s standing there with his mouth agape, big enough for any number of insects or birds to make a nice home. Dinah’s laughter cuts above the throaty croak of the bass. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying,” Luke whispers, leaning across the wooden counter to her.

“Maybe I am,” she grins, hands cupping his chin and the slight scruff decorating it now. 

It’s quick. Fast enough that Luke swears he can hardly register it, but slow enough that it definitely makes me crave more. Her lips seal over his in a kiss. One he wishes he could’ve had earlier. But nevertheless, the feeling of her lips against his is something that he won’t ever be able to get over; it’ll be implanted into his memory for the rest of his existence. 

“One more,” Luke whispers against her lips, feeling her drawing away. “Wasn’t long enough.”

Dinah laughs, but kisses Luke again. A little longer, a little firmer, a little deeper than the first, But she wheels it in, “You’re on the clock, you know?”

“I can very quickly be off it too.”

“Luke!” she reprimands, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “I am going to take this drink, which, here,” she slides cash across the counter, “definitely need to pay for and I’m going far far away from the bar so I’m not a distraction.”

“No, stay. Want you close. And you do not need to pay.” Luke straights up, sliding the bill back towards her. 

“A tip. For you and your amazing customer service,” Dinah urges. And whether Luke likes it or not, he obliges before getting back to work. Dinah knew about two weeks after he dropped Luke off at the New York bus station that she was going to find him again. And when she did find him again, she wouldn’t have questions and she wouldn’t have so much hostility. First, she needed to work through all that. The calls helped; they opted not to email too much but the conversations along the way helped alleviate the residual confusion. Contact was often and thorough and when she needed space, Luke didn’t cross it. 

She looked for a place to settle down at and she concluded on a place up in Canada. It was nice, mostly tucked away, but still close to a city that she could still get necessities. She hadn’t told Luke about it yet. He hadn’t made any clear indications that he was looking to settle down but it shocked her when he mentioned moving to LA and finding local work. She was under the impression that they would meet again, in LA, when both of them were ready. However, maybe this was an indication that Luke was ready already. 

The night goes by fast. Or maybe it just feels fast because this is Dinah’s day. After last round, Dinah lets Luke know that she’ll be waiting outside, in the front lot. The Uber’s and taxis pull away, after picking up their respective groups and leave Dinah in the almost dark. But there’s so much light around from other signs and bars and restaurants, that it’s almost impossible to be in the dark for too long. 

“My car’s over here,” Luke states, well in advance, to warn Dinah. She turns to find his throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “Where did you park?”

Dinah points her keys in his direct and her car beeps to life. “Few spaces from you.”

“Should’ve known. We can take your car. Mine will be fine overnight.”

“You sure?”

Luke nods, reaching out for her hand. “I’m sure. You’ll just have to give a ride to work--that’s all.”

“Something tells me I think I’d be okay with that.”

“Good, I’m glad,” he laughs, brushing his thumb over her skin. “So, you gotta let me in on what’s been happening with you?”

“You know me. Singing to make ends meet,” Dinah teases. Luke bumps her arm and she knows he wants the truth. She knows that he wants to know about the settling down and the feelings. And she can give all that to him. She can give him all the truth. 

Tagging @5-secondsofcolor​ for morning reads

[chick-from-nz]

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 1)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, spelling and grammatical errors. Could be very OOC/AU for some. 

AUTHORS NOTE:  this is kind of just an establishing chapter to get the idea out there, Carrillo is barely in this chapter. Characters are younger than they should be for their ranks. Also so far there is no first names, that’ll come later

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

CHAPTER: 1 OF ?

TAG LIST: @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115

The sun was beginning to disappear behind the curve of the earth,  painting the sky with a unique mixture of orange and dark violet. The distant sound of rumbling thunder is like persistent background music for the evening , powerful and uncanny.  The impending storm instills a sense of relief within the thirty or so soon to be officers standing stock still in a neat formation.

The cadets have been standing at attention for what seems like an eternity, the warmth of the day slowly fading away into the brisk cold that is night. This day was the first of many long days to look forward to in the treacherous week ahead, a week full of drills, missions and courses set to make or break the cadets and be the decider on whether or not they will become the soldiers they so desperately wish to be.  

The cadets had been informed of an up and coming role in a new task force that would be the highlight of one lucky future second lieutenant's career. A foreign Colonel was set to choose the most fitting recruit for his force to fight an enemy unknown to these youngsters. Only a cadet who scored within the top three of the company would be eligible for this role or at least that's what the platoon imagined.

The tension within the platoon was high, higher still with this opportunity hanging over their heads. Each cadet was now fighting tooth and nail to be at the top of the pack. Among this group was a young female recruit with everything against her. It seemed like all the instructors had a vendetta against her because of her last name, yet she was sitting top of the pack. The female cadets gossiped about her and the male cadets paid her no notice, she was hoping whoever this Colonel was that he at least would see her worth for what it was and not because of the last name attached to it.

When the thunder cracked and the rain came pouring down only then did the morale of the group start to drop, holding a pack above your head for what felt like 3 hours, and probably was, was being to take its toll on certain cadets. Almost half the platoon had forfeited points by dropping their packs, another five cadets were beginning to sway from the weight and would no doubt drop their packs within the hour. The test of strength and endurance was a tough one at that. Do you drop your pack and lose some points but not be exhausted for whatever discipline was thrown at you next, or did you power through and hope that this was the last task of the night.  

As another hour or so passes there are all but 3 recruits standing out of the rain. Cadets Greyson, Calliope and Micheals were the remaining cadets out in the downpour with their packs hoisted above their heads. It was a power struggle now, Greyson and Micheals were but half a point apart for top cadet while Cadet Calliope was only a point behind them, these three were now not only competing for top cadet but for a chance to make it onto the Colonels “kill squad” as it had been nicknamed by the Cadets.

Calliope was the first to drop his pack, followed closely by Michaels. Cadet Greyson, like usual, was the last cadet standing, feeling incredibly proud of herself as she spun around to face her fellow cadets only to be greeted with distasteful looks and the occasional snarl on her opponents faces. At this point she thought she should be used to it, but each time it stung more and more. Was no one going to acknowledge the fact that she had proven herself yet again?

Greyson was given no time to dwell on her thoughts as the cadets were called to make formation and report to the Lieutenant in charge. Lieutenant O’Connor. The man was the only superior who Greyson felt appreciated by, he always took time to pull her aside and give her tips to improve on if she needed them, or congratulate her on her win. Since she dominated the event yet again Greyson was tasked with determining the route best fit to take to get back to their tents. With the help of Cadets Calliope and Michaels, whom she had chosen as her second and third in command respectively. The platoon made their way back to the campsite without a fuss.

Major Benn was perched on the hood of his jeep when the platoon reached camp. Ever one to be formal Cadet Greyson brought her squad to attention and popped off a salute to the aforementioned man. The major was quick to return the salute, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Cadet Greyson, congratulations on another win, dismiss your squad and everyone gather round the Jeep”

“Yes Sir!”

Greyson did as she was told, silently thanking the Major for the kind words, and gathered the squad around the jeep. She was hoping that they were going to be jagged in for the night, but just their luck the Major would have them up running parade drills for the next three hours.

“As you well know one of you will be chosen and given the opportunity of a lifetime, working alongside one of Colombia's most renowned Officers in the intelligence field. In two days he’ll be here to oversee the evolutions for the day and set challenges for you to complete. He will select who he thinks is right for his team, scores will not play a part in his decision. I suggest you all take this on board and do you best to impress. This opportunity will not come around again so I expect top performance from each and every one of you. You are dismissed”

At the order each cadet gave a salute and went off to their own tents, thankful for the opportunity for rest and each thinking of how they could impress the Officer and gain a place on his team.

As the night drew to a close and everyone was drifting off to sleep Cadet Greyson decided to wander away from the cadets campsite and unintentionally towards the instructors camp. It was only when the darkness gave way to the burning lights surrounding their camp did she slow her pace and hide in the shadows. She knew if she was caught here she’d be doing in a world of hell, but for some reason she just couldn't turn around and walk back to her tent.

She could hear voices coming from the camp, she could pinpoint all but one of them, and it sounded like they were deep in a very serious discussion. Greyson gathered  her courage and began to creep closer to the voices, remembering her training she kept low to the ground and used the shadows to her advantage. She came to an abrupt halt when she heard her name being passed around between the men. Why would they be talking about me? Please don’t be ruining my name she thought to herself. She took a few steps more and placed herself behind one of the tents. The fourth voice was louder now, accented and strong. The kind of voice that makes you want to run towards it and away from it at the same time. Greyson wondered if it was possible to be attracted to a voice, and promptly decided it was, that voice, whoever it belonged to, was the most attractive voice she’d ever heard.

Deciding she’d pushed her luck too far, the cadet soundlessly turned and made her way back to the path at the edge of the camp, but instead of continuing towards her camp like any sane cadet would she turned to see if she could catch a glimpse of whoever the authoritative voice belonged to. What she managed to see nearly made her fall over breathless. He was gorgeous, even from a distance. A strong chiseled jaw that gave way to wide shoulders and what seemed to be the strongest most defined arms she’d ever seen.  God if his arms look like that i can only imagine what he must look like under that uniform Greyson thought. He was standing in a stance that screamed power and experience, shoulders back, head tilted back in a way that made it look like he was looking down his nose at someone, except, he was staring right in her direction.

“Fuck!” Greyson whispered to herself, if he had spotted her she might have just compromised her points she earnt today and might have just dropped herself into the biggest punishment she’d ever receive. As to not draw attention to herself she slowly crept backwards further into the shadows, double checked that the coast was clear and bolted in the direction of the cadets camp. She reached the camp in record time, the fear of being caught fueling her the whole way back to the camp.

Greyson wasted no time kicking off her boots and climbing into her sleeping bag, if she’d been caught the platoon would get a rude awakening in a matter of minutes, if not she had maybe three hours to get as much sleep as she could. As the minutes ticked by and the night stayed silent it seemed as though she would get to sleep tonight, she could only hope that tomorrow would bring slightly better outcomes than the day before. As she drifted off she smiled to herself, the image of those wide shoulders and strong arms had her imagining some not so professional situations where she could use them to her advantage.

[msjr0119]

One Temptation

Part 10

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags-if you want to be removed from the list, let me know 😊: @pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @drxkewalker @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @kozabaji @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @jared2612 @princess-geek @desireepow-1986 @indiacater

A/N: This part is smaller than most, the next part will be posted once I’ve finished work or tomorrow.

Warnings: Swearing, abuse.

*****

I miss you. X

Hey, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a few days. X

Ri, I love you. Please text back. I just want to know that you are okay. X

Can I come and see you? X

Riley sighed as she re read all the messages that she had received from, messages that she hadn’t responded to as if they didn’t exist. It had been a few weeks since she had seen him in the hotel room. Waking up the following morning, she snuck out of the room. Regretting letting her feelings get the best of her- she knew it was best to just leave without saying a word. Maybe in time, they could gradually speak- when she was sober.

“I’m going to have to get you a bucket, are you coming down with something?” Gill asked as she walked over to Riley, noticing that she was pale, as she sipped the water behind the bar and was immediately sick.

“I don’t know? It must be that seafood that we ate last night. I’ve had an upset stomach since this morning...”

“Just stay behind the bar tonight, I’ll get you a bucket in case you can’t make it to the toilet. If you need time off, just go home.”

Staying behind the bar, she was hoping that this shift would go quickly. The usual punters attempted flirting with as they always did- as much as she tried, she tried to flirt back. But the smell of alcohol was making her feel instantly ill. Bending down, she discreetly puked up in the bucket on the floor.

“Hello, can I have a scotch please.”

“I’ll be one minute...” Wiping her mouth, she placed some gum in her mouth as she slowly stood up.

“Bertrand?”

“Hello, stranger.” Wiping his finger along the bar, he looked disgusted viewing all the dust and the sticky residue stuck on his finger like super glue. He was shocked to see her behind the bar, when she first arrived back in New York City- he was horrified when Maxwell blurted out that she was a stripper.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a free country.. I’m just checking that you are okay. You don’t look okay- you look as white as a sheet. You haven’t spoken to anyone - we were all concerned about you.”

“I’m fine, shouldn’t you be with Savannah? Congratulations by the way, how is the little bundle of joy?” Providing him with the drink, she explained that it was on the house to congratulate him on becoming a father- as well as ‘wetting the baby’s head’. She knew that this day was coming, but it still hurt knowing the day that their baby arrived could have been the day that she was holding her own bundle of joy.

“He’s amazing. We are having a get together tomorrow night, you should come and meet Bartie.”

“I might do, it depends if I can get time off work or not.” He’s going to be there. Covering her mouth, that all familiar taste made its way back in to her mouth.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No, don’t be fucking stupid...” fuck. I could be. Horror was soon written all over her face, of course Bertrand would assume this- Savannah was pregnant and had morning sickness, so he was now an expert knowing the symptoms.

“I ate seafood last night, I don’t think it’s agreed with my stomach...”

“Or maybe that little rendezvous you had in Times Square has had some consequences...” Perking his eyebrows up, he knew she was in denial- if she was indeed pregnant, he knew that she wouldn’t be alone- she would have support from everyone.

“How do you know about that?” Shaking his head, everyone knew. Due to the man explaining what had happened and him being concerned as she ran off and had ignored him ever since.

“He’s worried about you, he asked if anyone had spoken to you. What is it with you and hotel rooms?” He laughed attempting to make the situation a joke rather than it being a serious matter.

“You know me B. Whenever Liam had conferences with his father, I’d stay in the hotel room with him. Leo, in Florida- when he found me. Maxwell when we all got drunk in Vegas. And Drake, the hotel before we arrived at the ranch the following day..”

“Well we are meeting tomorrow at the Hilton, midtown. Who’s next on your hotel fuck list? You could use tomorrow as an opportunity.” See her frown at him, he laughed. “I’m joking! Thank you for the drink, Ri. I hope you can attend.”

*****

The sickness had deteriorated the day after, feeling relieved she was sure it was due to the food. Getting ready to go to hotel, she was a bag of nerves. Deep down she didn’t want to go- however as Bertrand said they were practically family years ago.

Arriving at the Hilton, she was greeting by a waiter who gave her a champagne flute. Gulping it in one, it would give her dutch courage that she most likely would need to survive the whole event. Scrutinising the room, she saw everyone- as well as Drake’s family. Fuck, I forgot about them. Just breathe, Riley. Bertrand noticed her stood vacant at the threshold. Carrying Bartie over towards her, she placed a fake smile onto her face.

“Bartie, this is Auntie Riley...” Riley placed her finger into the newborns open hand- his tiny fingers wrapped around her immediately with a tight grip.

“Hey, gorgeous... aw Bertrand he’s adorable.”

“Do you want to hold him?” Riley nodded, holding the newborn- she was in love immediately. Bartie began to panic, possibly sensing that his mother and father wasn’t present and that he was in a strangers arms. Natural instinct made her coo at Bartie, before singing him a lullaby. Whilst singing- she placed the baby's head in the crook of one arm and wrapped the other arm around him- she was scared of dropping or breaking him.

“You’re a natural...are you still up for those babysitting duties?” He said with an encouraging tone of voice. Looking up at him, she smiled softly.

“Of course I’ll babysit him. No B, I’m not a natural- I’m a woman. He probably just thinks that my breasts are Savannah’s. Although if you carry on drinking beer, you could grow some man boobs...”

“I’d usually be offended with your sarcasm, but it’s good to see you smile.”

“He’s so gorgeous isn’t he? Hello, Riley.” Shifting her gaze from Bartie, she looked up at the woman. The woman who could win so many oscars with her fake attitude.

“Hello, Mrs Walker. Erm - Bertrand, I think he’s hungry- he’s getting far too close to my breasts..” Bertrand bend down to collect his son, he knew that this was probably just an excuse to remove herself from Bianca’s presence.

“Can you stop following me please...”

“I just want to say sorry for everything I did to you in Texas. Bertrand has explained about your true personality and you sound like a really nice person. I feel awful for the way we treat you...”

“I loved your son, I just wanted to make a good impression. At the time, I’d actually given up work. Who told you that I was a prostitute? That question has been lingering in my mind this whole time...”

“Liam Rhys...” Of course, it was him. That slimy bastard. “Did he give you that money?”

“No, it was from Kiara’s father.” Sighing, she really didn’t want that name to be mentioned, it was just a reminder of more heartache that she had received.

“Thank you. See you around.”

“Riley, wait!” Rolling her eyes back, she couldn’t be bothered with anymore of Bianca’s games. Not quite believing her new sincere attitude, she wanted to keep a distance- a long distance away from the woman.

“I’m so sorry about the baby...” holding her tears back, she began to struggle concealing the emotions. “You are a natural as Bertrand said, I do apologise again.”

“I’d have had our baby by now, imagine if I did. You hated me before you even got to know me. What would you have been like with your grandchild? Ignored it because you had a vendetta against its mother? Please, don’t try and talk to me again Mrs Walker...”

****

Seeing him smirking and laughing with people, the tears that she held back were now non existent. Instead anger built up throughout her body. Just the sight of him made her feel physically sick, him acting as if he had done nothing wrong. Storming through the crowd towards him, his eyes widened seeing her face like thunder.

“Liam! A word now!”

“Riley, it’s nice to see you...” swinging her fist back- this had become her new hobby especially with Liam. The scotch that he was holding was soon all over the floor- as the glass shattered the room went mute.

“How could you do that to me?” The tears that she had held in soon resurfaced and fell down her face, as her chin began to tremble she was unable to prevent all of the emotions bursting out.

“Do what?” Coming closer towards her, he wiped the wetness that was smudging her make up- not that she cared in the slightest.

“I dropped the charges, you avoided punishments because of my stupid goddamn heart. I went for lunch with you. I thought we had closure. Then I find out that you was the reason behind the Walkers hating me!”

“You went for lunch with him?” Leo walked over with Maxwell and Drake, concerned overhearing the shouting. “What have you done now?”

“He told Drake’s family that I was a fucking goddamn prostitute..”

“Ri, that was before I saw you in Starbucks and we went for lunch. I felt awful for doing that, but he is engaged anyway... we put all that behind us. We had closure...” Smirking at Drake, Riley was too emotional to realise this- Liam knew it would get under his skin that he went for lunch with her. Hoping that this little ‘confession’ would fill Drake with jealousy and rage.

“I am not fucking engaged!”

“Does it fucking matter who’s engaged or not? Does it matter what I fucking do for a living? Why can’t you all just let me live my life? I was thinking about your daughter in all of this Liam, and all you do is fucking screw me over.. continue to fucking break my heart...”

“I’m sorry. I am grateful for you thinking about Alice. Have you made a decision about the offer that I offered you all those weeks ago in Times Square?”

“Go to hell, Liam.”

*****

Maxwell followed Riley, out of all the friends he believed that he was the closest to her- the one who’s daft antics would make her smile instantly.

“Are you okay?” Knowing this was an idiotic question to ask, he didn’t know why he asked her- grabbing the ice out of his cocktail, he rubbed it against swollen hand.

“Yeah.. my hands killing though...”

“You really should quit the bar work and become a professional boxer.” Max pretended to throw some punches towards her.

“Me the professional boxer and you the professional dancer. You totally showed off in front of all those dancers in Times Square.” Doing a re-enactment Of his dance moves from that night, she threw her back laughing.

“Of course I would, they were all amateurs... when Maxwell Beaumont is around no one has a chance... so what do you think about Bartie? Is he a Beaumont or a Walker?”

“Definitely a Walker looks wise, but that can change. Hopefully he takes after his uncle’s rather than his serious father.” Impersonating Bertrand, Maxwell nearly fell over laughing. Pulling her into a hug, he held her tightly- he had missed her.

“What are you laughing about?” Leo asked, as he is put his arms around Riley’s waist and kissed her on the cheek.

“Ask Riley to show you her impression of Bertrand... I’m going to steal a cuddle from my nephew- I need to win the best uncle award.”

“How are you? I’ve missed you.”

“I’m fine, I’ve missed you too. How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s good to see you. Even when you are acting like the hulk...”

“He deserves it... what is he even doing here?”

“He paid for the venue, as usual. But I had my little input...”

“The flower arrangements?”

“How did you guess?”

“Well when you bought me flowers, they were beautiful.”

“I should become a florist? A beautiful bouquet for a beautiful girl. You deserve it. Love ya Ri.”

“Charmer... love ya too.”

****

Leo had left her alone, walking towards the bar, she ordered a drink- staring vacantly into it, she wasn’t sure why she was even here still. Drowning her sorrows, she felt like she was back at the Crowne plaza- the drinks were disappearing far too quickly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry about what Liam did, as well as my family...”

“Don’t be. Congratulations on becoming a uncle.” Ordering him a drink, their hands touched as they both went to pay the bar man- the warmth of the touch lingered around their bodies. Quickly creating a distance again, Drake was desperate to pull her into his arms- but decided against it, especially with the mood she was in.

“Thanks. He’s amazing. I can’t wait to teach him a few things. I saw you holding him before, you’re a natural.” That could have been us, you holding our baby.

“I’ve already been told.” That could have been us. You talking about teaching our son or daughter about things.

“Don’t be drinking me under the table again, you know how one drink turns into two then into three before you know it. You don’t want a stinking hangover.”

“You know I can handle my hangovers. You don’t need to worry about my head.”

“I worry about you. I care about you. I love you.” Opening her mouth, she wanted to talk to Drake- civilly, but didn’t know where to start.

“Come on you two, B and Savannah are about to make an announcement...” Maxwell dragged the two of them towards the mini stage. Riley could feel Drakes eyes on her more than the star of the show, his own nephew.

“Riley, before the speech begins I want a private word with you. Savannah will talk and talk - so quick, follow me.” Following Bertrand, He led her to the bathroom- shutting the door, she was confused by his actions- until realisation sunk in as he pulled the object out of his pocket.

“Here, I think you should take this.”

“I’m not pregnant B. It was the seafood.”

“You looked like shit last night. Please.” Taking the test, she knew it would shut him up. Not knowing why he was insisting that she took a test. Peeing on the stick, she hid it in her bag wrapped around some tissue. Re-entering the room, Savannah gestured for Bertrand to join her on stage.

“Sorry for arriving late, I apologise if I repeat anything that has already been said. I’d like to thank you all for coming here today, our friends and family- we appreciate all the support....” the alarm went off on Riley’s phone, panicking that she was disturbing the speech- her hand was shaking as she tried to cancel it. Bertrand looked at her, knowing what the alarm was. Riley swiftly removed herself from the crowd, turning her back- she looked at the result. Covering her mouth, she wished that she had kept her legs closed- turning around she couldn’t look at the father instead she just nodded towards Bertrand hoping that he would understand the gesture. Clearing his throat, he quickly finished off his disastrous speech, knowing that she needed his support especially due to him forcing it upon her.

“Anyway, thank you for all the gifts. Thank you. Thanks...” Running off stage he followed Riley who was lingering at the door- still in shock. Still not knowing how to handle the situation.

“Was I correct?”

“I need to go. I didn’t get Bartie a present I wasn’t sure what he needed. Here, just take this money and get whatever you need. Thank you for inviting me.”

Bertrand, I need your assistance. Savannah shouted attempting to gain his attention- realising that he wasn’t aware that everyone was overhearing his conversation with Riley through the microphone.

I’ll only be a second Savannah, darling.

“Riley!”

“What?”

“Tell me... I am always here for you... you are like my little sister.” Passing him the test, she didn’t care if he was touching something that had her urine smeared all over it.

“I’m pregnant. Happy?” Savannah’s eyes widened, as everyone else’s did as they all turned to face the people who were oblivious that their conversation wasn’t private and was in fact public.

“Darling... you left the microphone on. We heard everything...”

“Bertrand! You fucking dipshit....” still in shock with the result - possibly denial, she just wanted leave. This whole event had been a disaster from her point of view. As the father walked over to her, along with the others- she looked at each of the men. Fuck. This is not happening. He will want to keep the baby. Can I trust him?

“Is the baby mine? Is Alice having a sibling?”

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—CHAPTER SEVEN ; FINN, ALL GROWN UP.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing, smoking

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

"Just remember, never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line." - The Princess Bride (1987)

"PENARTH ART GALLERY." Tommy cleared his throat before speaking to the operator on the telephone. He pulled a long drag off his cigarette as he waited, even though he knew his call would lead to no avail. He hasn't heard back from her in hours. It wasn't even that difficult of an instruction: reach back to him with her mind made up once she finished her errand in Camden town. Either Teresa forgot, was abducted, killed, or she never kept true to her word when she agreed to phone him. Tommy needed a response so desperately. It had been a while since the vendetta began, and he doubt he would be spared a second to take a deep breath before the Changretta mob comes in to take them out by surprise. He needed an answer now.

No response. He slams the receiver shut, almost nearly breaking the telephone, and sighs. If Tommy had to pick up and reach the operator, the same response of no communication on the other end of the line would come up once more. No point.

Groaning in exhaustion, Tommy rubs his nose bridge as Polly walks in, noticing him leaning back in his chair.

"I told you," she says. "she won't come back."

Tommy grunts. "She will. Just give it a few hours."

"We gave her a day, Tommy. Now we're giving her a few hours?" Polly slams Tommy's diary containing weekly schedules & anything important jotted in black ink, each were separated with a blank box. She flipped to the bookmarked page that highlighted one day of the week, a star coloured in the margins. She jabs a finger on it. "The boxing match. We're losing time."

"Yes, Pol. I'm aware," Tommy says, annoyed. It's not like he wasn't giving Aberama Gold's son a dream of being a boxing champion and possible boxing career in exchange for extra hands to have blood on them in a vendetta. "And what other things I'm aware of that you have to tell me?"

"Are you also aware that Teresa Griffith is no walk in the park—"

"Neither of us are, Polly."

"Are you aware that Teresa Griffith is no walk in the park," Polly repeated her sentence, sternly this time, "and that begging for her help is no use? We've got what we already need, why do you still need her? You miss her?"

"Teresa will reach out to Luca Changretta."

"For what? A fuck while he isn't looking?"

"I've dug deeper, Pol. He's scavenging for things to claim in all of Britain. If he'll start with Alfie Solomon's business, that means he's not shy to come after Teresa's. The Penarth art gallery will be signed under the Changretta name so she will try to withdraw the unjust negotiation, which will give us more time to reach out to Michael's updates before Bonnie and Goliath will face each other in the ring." Tommy slammed his diary, brushing off his wonder on how Polly was able to gain access to it in the first place when it's usually Lizzie who technically is only allowed to touch it.

Polly stared at him with a hint of dread.

"What is it?"

Frustrating as it is, Polly really didn't have the answer to pinpoint. "I read her tea leaves before she walked out on us. It said she'll lose what she loves the most."

"What or who?"

"I couldn't tell. But I imagine it being her new chapter. But now it makes much more sense. She'll lose the gallery, perhaps."

Tommy leans forward to look up closer to Aunt Polly. "So like I said, give it a few hours. I know she will come back. I doubt she keeps a handgun in her glove compartment anymore. I'll ensure her safety and keep the gallery up under her name. She needs us just as much as we need her."

Polly let out a small sigh, collecting the heavy-weighted diary to carry out with her through the same way she came in. Let's hope...

Returning to Penarth was a relief. Teresa was far away from the next person who could get on her last nerve, unless one of the tour guides or management decides to point out a small circumstance to the owner, but the Welsh woman found comfort and bliss when she looks up at a painting made by an iconic artist that speaks through their canvas.

"We should really put up more exit signs, Miss," one of the tour guides said to Teresa as they walked down the halls together. "some of the guests have been getting lost with the new corridors. And they were wondering about the empty room upstairs?"

"I've spoken to people from Nice. They loved what we did with the exhibition and they want to place up more paintings, so I saved some extra room."

"On... the second floor?"

"Why not?" Teresa shrugs. "We've set up enough for the main floor, second floor should be okay as well." And she walked down the opposite direction, hoping the tour guide wasn't gonna follow her and object the display plans.

"Miss Griffith," an exhausted employee rushes over to her, clearly out of breath from searching around the entire building for one woman. "Your office is being blown up with phone calls from Birmingham."

Teresa frowns. Did Mr. Shelby not take the hint already?

"Shall I leave a message?"

"Just ignore it. Probably someone looking to pest. We've no time for that," Teresa let out a sigh, continuing down the way she meant to go through, passing a couple of guests who read each art piece like a picture book. She had to frown again. The least she could do was answer one phone call from the man, say the word and he'd leave her be. Ignoring him would push him towards her even more.

Teresa rested her walking by standing in front of the painting. The painting, to emphasize—the one Luca pointed out to her when they first met. She hadn't looked at it in so long. Every time she passed that wall, she just had to avoid making eye contact. How ridiculous it is to look away from art, which is the opposite of the common reaction. But it was a painting only Teresa felt like a curse. Teresa doubted Luca even cared about what the painting was, since his excuse to reel her attention was to poke fun about what she loved. If only she could gain that much luck of approval to remove the piece off of that wall with her bare hands. Disrespectful and unprofessional, yes. But if she had the chance to, she would do it.

Now his voice spoke just as loud as the form of the oil painting. You were just another woman.

Teresa shook her head. It was indeed an awkward encounter, and if she had to describe it; maybe it was a heartbreak about another.

It doesn't matter anymore. Luca is here on business, to kill the man whose phone calls you're ignoring, but that is okay. You're not a Peaky Blinder. It's time to turn around and move on...

She did turn around actually, just to be greeted with another familiar face.

"Finn?"

SHE had to chuckle in disbelief. Seeing Finn holding a cigarette in his hand so casually just proves that he was no stranger to the addicting habit. He was the youngest of the family and Teresa used to chase him around the streets in a game of tag. He was much shorter than she was, voice higher, and after watching them, he mimicked the little things his older brothers did, even though it was dangerous for a young boy like him to fully understand.

"Do they know that you're here?" Teresa took a puff out of hers.

"Arthur sent me," Finn replied.

Teresa rolls her eyes. "Right," she mutters under her breath. She kicked a few rocks on the large paved steps that laid out as the entrance of her gallery. "Don't tell me. You're here to scold me for ignoring Tommy. It's not like I don't get migraines from my telephone ringing so fucking much."

"Why are you avoiding him, Teresa? Even when you were at the Garrison, agreeing to let Tommy fill you in on what needs to be done. He would of thought you got shot, otherwise."

"I went to Camden and then came back here."

"Without giving him a final decision?"

"He should get the hint by now. Is that bastard so desperate for a decoy? I doubt the Italians would fall for another trap." That was another thing she was informed about. Polly and Tommy's plan was a semi-success, however Luca Changretta is still alive, and his blood must be boiling because of how much time he had wasted sparing Michael's life when he had the chance to shoot him in cold blood.

"Luca Changretta will come after Alfie Solomons' business, as he will yours," Finn says. "He will come here and make you hand it over to his family or he will kill you. Whether he does that before or after killing us all, it will happen sooner or later."

Typical Luca. If he really thought she was just another woman, he would definitely threaten her over her business. "Did Tommy tell you to say all of that?" she chuckled.

Finn shrugs. "Maybe. But it's good that you know now. So, that gives you a valid reason to help?"

Teresa grinned. "The last time I saw you, you wore tiny suspenders, even your shoes were tiny. I could of lifted you like a doll from a toy store. Look at yourself, Finn."

"I can't, that's physically impossible."

"Finn, all grown up!" Teresa teases, using her hand to pinch together his rosy cheeks.

Finn groans in annoyance, rubbing his cheek to sooth the stinging pain after shoving her hand off him. "Fuck's sake, Teresa! We need you! You were big help when you were last with us, and you can still be the big help. Seriously, you're all our last bet."

"Tell Tommy I need more time to think about it."

"Teresa, there isn't any more time. We're out of it. We need a solid answer now."

"You guys did fine without me. Am I still being used a distraction? What if Tommy wants me as a mole?"

"He won't. That's not something we do often, most of the time it doesn't end up working out."

"Finn..." Teresa shook her head, taking him seriously this time. "I can't help kill Luca Changretta. I thought about it but I promised to never get involved with the Peaky Blinders, or anything that would paint me as a criminal. If things didn't happen the way it did, I would of said yes without a second thought."

Finn furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

She let out a soft sigh, hoping the pain would burn out like the end of her cigarette. "Because I knew Luca. He and I were once lovers."

+ basically,,,,, teresa wants to help but at the same time she doesn't want to help lmfaoo.

[knjnvrland]

Prank Wars - ch. 3

> pairing | jungkook x reader

> word count | 3.2k

> genre | college!au, fluff, smut, angst

> warnings | swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos

> synopsis | College can be a stressful time in anyone’s life as it is, why don’t we throw a little prank war in the mix to make it harder?

> fic masterlist

> A/N | English is not my first language, I’m sorry for the eventual spelling mistake, please let me know if you find any!

Chapter 3 - Adding Wood

“Dude please, you have to help me” Taehyung was at Jungkook’s place way too early in the morning, already bothering the younger one.

“Just let it go” Jungkook rolled his eyes, grabbing himself some cereal and pouring it into the bowl on the table. Cereal first, milk later, whoever thinks otherwise is a psychopath.

“I can’t! Someone uploaded a picture of it to the school's twitter gossip page and now I can’t go anywhere without being called a fucking tampon!” The incident at the party happened over a week ago and people were still talking about it. For the first few days it was actually kind of funny and Taehyung played along, but after trying to get a girl’s number and getting a no from her because of it, he finally decided he needed to get his revenge. “Beside that, you were the actual target, don’t you want to do something about it?”

“Not really.” Jungkook answered with his mouth full. “It’s not like she actually got me, and I’m not into the idea of fueling the weird vendetta she has against me.”

“But if she tried once she probably will again!” Taehyung finally took a sit and stopped his pacing, trying to convince his friend using a different approach. “I know my sister, she won’t stop at that.” That was a lie, he knew you were not really one to hold grudges, and whatever it was that Jungkook did to you had him surprised just as much as anyone else at how you reacted, but he was saving that picture of you for so long now, just waiting for a justifiable chance to use it, and this was the perfect opportunity. 

Jungkook finished his cereal and started to grab his stuff to head to class, with Taehyung always behind him, blabbering about the stupid plan. It wasn’t even that big of a plan, really, just publishing an old photo of you on that same twitter page, the old 'an eye for an eye' thing. He was only bothering Jungkook so much because Jungkook actually knew who ran the account, and had kept it a secret from everyone else. “Fine! Okay, whatever, just send me the stupid pic and I’ll make sure it’s up by tonight.” He gave up. In the year he knew Tae, it was obvious the bleached hair boy was not keen on giving up, specially on a dumb idea.

“Thanks! But wait until we’re all together tonight, I can’t wait to see her face.” Taehyung hugged Jungkook from behind, receiving a shove from the other boy’s elbow, and followed him outside.

You were all at Jin’s apartment that night, it was game night and your older brother was trying to establish some sort of new tradition. Hoseok was just finishing his over complicated explanation on the rules for War when you got the notification. It’s not like you used social media that much, but the appeal of the twitter account grew on you ever since the accident and checking the new comments under your brother’s picture became part of your morning routine and made your days begin at least 5% happier because of it. Even if he wasn’t the real target, that shit was amazing and a few of your classmates even stopped you to comment on it, the embarrassment of it all washed away quickly.

And that’s why you were left absolute speechless being betrayed like that by same website that made your week great. You must’ve been about fifteen when that picture was taken. You were going through some sort of late horse phase and had been taking horseback riding classes all summer, and on the last day of it there was a competition where you placed second. In the picture you were at the podium, still wearing your helmet with hair wet from sweat sticking in odd directions. You had a pink shirt that read 'I love horses’ on it and matching pink boots. Your smile was wide and your braces were on full display while you held your silver medal. The picture was cropped, of course, seeing as Tae wasn’t on it and you remember clearly that he took those classes with you and was standing right beside you when your mom took the photo. You looked like such a child, no boobs, no hips, ridiculous choice of clothes. You took your time growing up, being the baby of the family, and now looking back you could totally understand why your only friends were your brothers. You loathed that picture ever since, and was sure that you had destroyed all evidence it ever existed, but apparently someone saved a copy. Your train of thoughts was interrupted by a laughing Jimin sitting across from you.

“Oh my god y/n” he had tears in his eyes already, and the commotion made Alice scoot closer to peep at his phone and see what was so funny anyway.

At that everyone took out their phones to check what the fuss was about, and a big laughter erupted all around you. Your eyes laid on Jungkook, the only one laughing that did not have his phone out as well. “Why are you laughing?” You tried to ignore the multiple questions your other friends were throwing at you.

“I bet he’s the one that posted it” Yoongi stated and everyone could see the minute you started to shoot daggers through your eyes.

“How did you even get that?” Namjoon had his phone out and was sharing the screen with Hoseok, but only the dancer was paying attention, taking a screenshot of the page. “A few years back she purged that photo from existence”.

“Or so she thought” Taehyung had this side smile on his face and it took everything in you to not slap it off.

“It's not that bad honey” Alice, who was sitting beside you, squeezed your shoulder “It’s a childhood pic, we only know it’s you because we’re close, no one else will recognize you” You were still speechless taking your friend’s phone from her hand and pointing at the description with the photo. ‘Local drink thrower used to be a horse girl, let’s hope she doesn’t use a horseshoe next time’ and then, as if it wasn’t obvious already, they had tagged your account.

“They left out the best of it” Jungkook blurted out, and everyone’s attention went back to him.

“So it was you” Your voice was barely audible.

“It was Taehyung, actually, I just helped” he shrugged “and it could be worse, I sent it telling them you were a teenager when it was taken, not a kid”. Tae bursted out laughing again, followed by Jimin.

“At least it’s a glow up, y/n” your pink haired friend stated “you're hot now, it gives people hope”. 

“Hey, that’s my sister” Jin warned.

“And she. is. hot.” Jimin insisted, earning himself a slap in the back of the head from the eldest of the group, but winking at you anyway.

You could appreciate what he was trying to do, as well as Alice, who still had her hand on your shoulder. You had heard stories of similar things they posted about each other last year, so no one was really bothered with Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s actions, but it still made you uneasy. You were still new in college and already so many things were being spread about you. The fact that everyone knew your friend group didn’t help, and you hoped you could survive the rest of the school year, at least. 

Everyone’s attention went back to the game they never began, but Jungkook’s eyes were set on you. He felt a bit sorry, of course, but you seemed to take it okay as you grabbed a card to read your goal on the game, not bothering to say anything to him. Seeing you at the party he expected a bit of a bigger outburst, and when you barely reacted he worried he crossed a line with the stupid prank, but then, just as you finished your turn and everyone’s focus was now on Namjoon, you looked straight at him and mouthed “I'm gonna kill you”. He didn’t quite know what he got himself into, but he knew he was in for a ride.

A month had gone by and Halloween was approaching fast. Between classes getting harder, school work starting to pile up, and a few overnights already at the library, you had spent way too much time thinking of a way to get back as Jungkook, but was not really successful. That is, until you overheard Hoseok and Namjoon talking while the three of you were having lunch together.

“Wait, backtrack, what halloween party?” You interrupted the boys conversation.

“It’s at Delta Sigma’s again” Namjoon clarified “but it’s dumb ‘cause it’s not even a dress up party, they’re just using halloween as an excuse to get drunk again.”

“And what’s the problem with that?" Hobi stole one of Joon's french fries, having finished his. "We could all use a bit of fun before things get chaotic with university work.”

“The problem is” Namjoon stole it back and ate it “it's not a halloween party if we’re not dressing up.”

“Of course it is, if it’s on Halloween’s night-" before Hoseok could continue, and you knew the two of them could go on like that for hours -you’ve seen it happening-, you took your chance.

“Okay I’m sorry to interrupt but I need your help with something” you smiled big, the kind of smile that told them nothing good was coming their way, the kind that had your friends terrified of you, the kind that they could not say no to.

You ended up getting everyone on board with it, they all still felt a little bit bad about the photo prank, and once you convinced Alice -who never wanted to do anything bad or, as Yoongi would say, fun- it was pretty easy getting the rest of them. You faked conversations for days on the group chat, and you were surprised at how everyone was able to keep a secret for so long, but finally the day was here.

It was hard thinking of an excuse as to why Yoongi could’t be Jungkook’s ride to the party, but after a bit of bribing, Taehyung offered to take him before he could ask the older one. He still owned you, anyway, and he should be glad he was not the target of this prank as well. That being settled, you all made the effort of getting to the party when it was actually supposed to start.

“What’s taking him so long?” You asked out loud, not to anyone in specific.

“Have you tried texting your brother?” Yoongi was beside you and heard it. He wasn’t one to talk much when he was still sober, so the two of you normally sticked around each other, specially when Alice was as hyper as she was now, taking advantage of the fact that you got here early when there was still good alcohol around, and drinking as much of it as she could with Jimin.

“Dude, is it always like this when we get to places on time?” Said drunk boy threw his arm around Yoongi.

“You would know if you tried every once in a while” he moved away from the embrace, and Jimin took the cue and hung himself around you instead.

“Nah, only y/n could make me do this” you smiled thankfully at him, and was distracted for a moment when some sort of commotion took place at the room near you, where the front door was located.

You untangled yourself from Jimin and marched there without a second thought, and you had just spotted Taehyung leaning over a wall when someone screamed “Who hired the clown?”. And there was Jungkook, still midway at the entrance door, dressed head to toe as a circus clown. Laughter erupted everywhere around the room and you could even recognize Jin’s loud one somewhere behind you, but you were too focused at the boy staring straight into your soul. Jungkook had locked eyes with you and you took your sweet time smiling victoriously back at him. No words needed to be said for him to know that it was all your doing. Some guy from the fraternity came towards him and patted him on the back, and Jungkook responded by laughing along and making his way inside. You knew he was embarrassed by how red his ears were, and by the thumbs up your brother sent you from across the room, but he was a good sport and played along with it, taking pictures, getting in character and smiling along with the jokes. You were a little annoyed at how well he was handling it, but you already knew he was just that type of person and honestly, you could even appreciate him a little bit for it. You got cold feet a couple hours ago, when you were getting ready, and even tried to call it off, but Alice, of all people, stopped you. You would have felt horrible if he actually was hurt by the prank and the pictures that would go around after tonight were enough to satisfy you as far as revenges went, you didn’t need the boy feeling bad as well. Jimin snuck back beside you and pulled you in a commemorative embrace, and you followed him to the dance floor. Your mission here was done, now it was time to have fun.

And you tried to, but your plan backfired a bit when every now and then a girl would approach your friend group and ask for Jungkook’s number. But apparently that was a normal thing for him at parties, as Jimin had pieces of paper already with Jungkook’s number written on them shoved into his pockets.

“He wrote his number a bunch of times and distributed amongst us once last year, but I still menage to find pieces of paper with it in every pocket of every pair of pants I own” Jimin took a bunch out, to prove his point.

“How are you even friends with him?” You couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“What can we do? He’s a crackhead, but he’s our crackhead” he handed you a few pieces of paper and you threw them up like they were confetti.

For the rest of the night you’d have to stop whatever you were doing so Jimin could hand someone Jungkook’s number, but it didn’t matter because at the end of the day, he would still be known by all those girls as the boy who showed up dressed as a clown, and that was good enough for you.

After the party things quieted down for a bit, as everyone’s work load got heavier. The pictures of Jungkook as a clown still made a few rounds and became a meme amongst your friends, being sent as an answer to basically everything. He pretended to be annoyed at first but couldn’t really keep up with everyone and just gave up, you won. It was already mid November and Jungkook was not really thinking of a way to get back at you. He was a little afraid to keep adding wood to that fire, but his pride was a little bit hurt. And then, the perfect opportunity was handed to him on a silver tray.

There were a few of you at the boy’s place. Jungkook and Taehyung were playing videogames, while Alice, Hoseok and you were at the kitchen cooking dinner. It was a chill and uneventful Wednesday night, and you gathered just because no one had anything better to do. You were just  telling your friends on the new updates you got on the guy you were currently crushing on.

After Jungkook’s prank, you ended up getting drunk with Jimin and Alice and bumped into the same guy you met at the previous party you went at Delta Sigma, he was still bright eyed and handsome, but now he also had a name: Ray. Even his name was cool. You ended up dancing together and talking a bit, but never got around to exchanging phone numbers, so you haven’t seen him since. You had a vague memory of him mentioning his major was something related to engineerings, and one of your classmate’s girlfriend was a chemical engineering student, so you asked her to look around, but with no success, and that’s what you were updating your friends on.

“I could ask around to the guys, if he frequents their parties someone must know him" Hoseok said, occupying his hands with the peeling of a piece of string cheese.

“I don’t want to seem like a stalker, though” you stood up to check the oven, where you were waiting for the potatoes to be done “and maybe he’s not even interested, I told him I was in lit, he could have looked for me”.

“Maybe he just forgot babes, you were both pretty drunk” Alice pointed out.

“As if I was the only one” you teased back “but seriously, I don’t want you to go out of your way to find him, if it’s supposed to happen, it will”

“It’s up to you, you know I wouldn’t mind” Hobi finished his cheese and stood up to get another piece from the fridge “and besides, you’ve been so stressed out, a good lay could help” Alice glared at him and you scoffed.

“Hobi, not even the best sex of my life could ease the stress of trying to finish that damn Bukowski paper” You played along, as Jungkook approach the counter and reached for a piece of sliced tomato on the other side.

“Bukowski? I like his stuff” you rolled your eyes at him and went to get him another beer, knowing the reason he made himself present could only be that.

“Of course you would” you handed him the beverage and, while chewing, he signaled ‘two’ with his hands, letting you know Tae also wanted one.

He took it and went away for a second to deliver the drink, but came back to the same spot “what were you even talking about, anyway?”

“Y/n likes a boy -ouch” Hobi started to answer, and Alice kicked him under the table, but it was already too late, Jungkook’s eyes were sparkling with curiosity.

“So the ice queen has a heart, who’s the poor soul?” He was trying to get a reaction out of you and you knew it.

“None of your business” You took the potatoes out of the oven “and get out of my way before I throw this at you”

“You have terrible aim” at that, Taehyung joined Jungkook hovering over the counter “and look, Tae’s even here, I’m safe” you rolled your eyes and decided to not further the little back and forth. Hobi and Alice were already setting up the table and you urged the two younger ones to help and stop bothering you.

They listened, not really because of you but more so because of the other two around you sending them warning glares, and the evening continued nicely, with everyone even forgetting the conversation about the pretty boy. Well, not everyone.

> A/N | We're starting to get savage here. Have a nice day, wherever and whoever you are :)

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