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bigilante · 3 years ago

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〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

#zendaya x reader #zendaya x you #zendaya imagine #zendaya fanfic #wlw fanfic #softfics #angst to fluff #gender neutral reader

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softomi · 4 years ago

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now accepting boyfriend applications.

based on my fic idea: you’ve just become newly single, in a drunken fit, you posted a status indicating you’re accepting applications for your next boyfriend. Oddly, three boys take you up on that; sending in their most professional resumes for the position. It seems there’s some fierce competitors.

next up: literature

It hurt, why wouldn’t it hurt. Your boyfriend of almost two years dumped you over text message with no warning and his reason? He just wasn’t feeling it anymore, what the fuck. Well, twenty phone calls, a hundred text messages sent to him, and a pretty nasty voicemail. The moment you realized just how crazy you were being was when you began pounding on his door at almost ten at night. His neighbors poking their head out to stare, and it really smacked you in the face how stupid you were being.

So you threw caution into the wind. it’s a Wednesday night, your first class tomorrow didn’t start until noon and you’re literature teacher was more of a lecturer so she probably won’t notice if you’re hung over. If anything, you could always ask the guy next to you for the notes.

Thus, you decide to throw back shots to your heart’s desire, sitting in the middle of your tiny studio apartment, on your bed to scream and cry at the romance movie. Love is dead. You groan loudly when your neighbor knocks against the wall, trying to tell you to promptly shut the fuck up.

Halfway through the movie, your mind is already swaying. Your throat stings just momentarily and you sip your cheap wine in hope it’ll dull the shots you had taken previously. When the male protagonist kisses the beautiful female of his dreams, you promptly chug the rest of the wine in your glass. Upset at their love, you wrap your lips around the tip of the wine bottle, drinking straight from it.

“I can find someone better.” You’ve reached a different point in your post break up sadness, you were mixed with anger, sadness, and an overall feeling of I’ll find someone with a better dick.

It’s never a good decision to post on social media while drunk, but it’s a great decision right now. You were going to post a ‘newly single’ status. Just to be nice and not spam everyone, you think you’ll just post it to your private account for your five friends to see. You’ve clearly neglected that step when you press post and it uploads to your public twitter account.

The urge to hurl takes priority over the sudden notifications on your phone. Your hair disheveled as you’re trying to hold onto the toilet, hold onto your hair, and throw up at the same time. The romance film comes to an end once you’ve fully emptied your stomach. You shove all the things off your bed, food falling onto the floor, empty bottle of wine rolled under your bed, remote lost somewhere. You fall asleep despite your cell phone going off.

The alarm jolts you, it causes you to scream, your palm slapping the snooze button and you aggressively pull the wire so that it comes out of the socket. Your head is throbbing and your cell phone is ringing at the same time. Annoyed, your hand stretches along the bed trying to find your cell. When you come emptyhanded, you sit up. Your hand steading the pulsing of your brain and you spot your phone ringing and vibrating on the ground.

“What?” You spit out, not bothering to look at the contact as you try to block out the sun.

“What do you mean what?” The voice snaps at you, “You post about boyfriend applications all of a sudden, did you guys break up?”

Of course he would be the one calling you, the person who loves gossip more than you do, “Tooru, can you like shut up for a second.” Your brain is dying and he’s over here trying to get the latest dish on your love life, “He dumped me okay.”

“That asshole.” He gasps, “Do you want me to come over?”

You look at the time on your cell briefly, “No. I have class all day. If you’re free later?”

“Of course!”

The phone call ends and rather than getting ready for the class you have in an hour, you’re checking your notifications. You have about twenty missed calls from Oikawa, another thirty text messages from him, he even left a voicemail; god he must have been desperate. Facebook is bland, you spent most of your time on Instagram deleting the photos of your now ex, and rarely do you ever get Twitter notifications. Oddly, you have fifteen notifications; all coming from your public account.

haha, boyfriend applications are official open. only taking serious apps lol

“No.” You sit up.

It wasn’t your post that freaked you out, it wasn’t that somehow it ended up on your public account, no you could delete it and pretend as if no one saw it but people saw it.

Is she serious?

If she is, I’m down.

What does serious applications mean?

Three comments, five likes, and four retweets.

And three unread messages.

Your finger rushes to delete the tweet before it can be retweeted even more by random classmates. All was good now. Your finger presses onto the message icon, you’re confronted with the icons of three of your classmates.

The most recent is from Miya Atsumu, a terrible flirt in your biology class. He chose the seat next to you in lab when his friends ditched him and hoarded their own table. He spun around in his chair, shooting you a cheeky grin when you briefly looked at him.

His first sentence was, “Hey you’re cute.”

And yours was, “I have a boyfriend.”.

You skip over his message upon spotting his use of sweetheart in the preview.

The next icon is of the guy in your intro to business class, Kuroo Tetsuro. The first time you saw him was outside of the classroom, you two ended up accidentally reaching the doors at the same time. He lets you go in first and the both of you chose the seats farthest from the board, and closest to the door. Despite his bed hair that made him look like he was going to sleep the entire class, he was a rather studious guy; chill but smart, he was a business major after all.

“Did you understand anything he was saying?” You murmur to him as you grab your bag.

“Of course!” He states, “I don’t look at twitter on my laptop when he’s lecturing.” Ah, he caught you.

Your eyes briefly scan the preview, he’s saying something about a resume and you think he’s talking about the homework assignment. You’re about to click on his first when the last catches your eye.

It’s from Akaashi Keiji. On the first day of class, you were late due to waiting in line for coffee. You awkwardly opened the door to the classroom, everyone turning to stare, and you lower your head, choosing a random seat that now you’re stuck with for the rest of the semester because that’s just how college works. The professor goes over the syllabus and suddenly announces that the person sitting to your right will be your revision partner for the semester.

“Hey.” You stop him and for a brief minute you feel your heart skip a beat because he was absolutely pretty, “Sorry, I’m Y/n. Since we’re going to be partners, do you want to exchange info?”.

“Uh. Sure. I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“I’m going to be late for my business class. Do you have twitter?” You were never a fan of giving your phone number out. Before he can answer, you’re scribbling your username onto a piece of paper, placing it on his desk before running out to catch your next class.

His message is brief: Did you get my email?

You click his message first; it must have been urgent if he messaged and emailed you. There’s nothing else to his message, his previous one dates almost a week before his current one, telling you that he finished reading the book you recommended and that he enjoyed it.

The screen is pulled up with your finger, alternating apps to your personal email. The subject of his email simply reads Application.

Curiously, you click the attachment he’s sent with no body text. Your jaw dropped, hand placed over your open mouth and a small scream emitting.

“Is he fucking serious?”

His name is displayed at the top, along with his birthday, star sign, zodiac sign, age, even the pronouns he uses. There’s a short sentence under it. I am submitting an application for the position of Boyfriend. You’re internally screaming, blinking fast hoping that this was a joke but his ‘application’ reads like a resume. It lists his education from middle school to his current, his previous jobs, his skills, and his own personal goals for the future.

Your blushing profusely, you want to pull your hair, scream, even throw your phone but you shove down the feelings that want to have you die of embarrassment. You don’t have the energy to sadly explain to him that you were drunk and weren’t serious; ugh and you’re going to have to continue seeing him for the rest of the semester.

You revert back to twitter; your heart suddenly drops when you think about Kuroo’s message. Quickly, you pull up the messages, clicking his and suddenly you want dig yourself a grave because he’s sent a link to a pdf and it’s simply titled Resume. He probably used a resume template and never changed the title.

And sure enough, it’s a fucking professional resume declaring the certain skills he has to be your boyfriend. In fact, like the professional business major he is, he includes a letter of intent; indicating his reasons of interest for the position. It details the little quirks he finds cute about you. You want to break your phone in half with how red in the face you feel.

As you exit his message, you’re slowly praying that Atsumu’s message is just a random flirty comment that he occasionally likes to throw you once in a while or perhaps you’re hoping that he fell in a ditch and you won’t have to work with him for the rest of the semester since he almost blew up the lab station last time.

Nope, it’s a link to a google document. Oddly, you click it. Your heart has sunk to the pit of the earth because when you open the document, you see his fucking name in the upper right corner indicating he’s still on the stupid document.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re running away from the document, aggressively leaving the page but it doesn’t help that when you end up back at your twitter messages, you can see the three dots, telling you he’s typing.

Morning sweetheart hope you enjoy the app

He sends it with a flirty wink and you stare at it for five full minutes. Curiosity gets the best of you and you click back onto his link, he’s no longer on the same document and you sigh safely. For someone who’s barely passing biology, his document was rather professionally detailed. Damn, he’s on the school’s volleyball team? Weirdly the page cuts off halfway, you continue to scroll until the next title page boldly states: Bedroom skills.

It didn’t help that you were scrolling a little too fast and caught sight of an image showing off his toned upper body. There goes his professionalism.

Your phone suddenly blares low battery, your screen turns black and now your anxiety is through the roof. You jump on your bed, trying to plug in your phone and you’ve just now realized that it is thirty minutes until your first class starts and it is literature. You’re scrambling to find your laptop, you trip on the bag of chips from last night, awkwardly trying to stand as you reach for your school bag.

“Shit!” You scream. You suddenly remember letting your stupid ex-boyfriend borrow your laptop.

You fall to the floor, fingers pulling your hair as you suddenly think about the deep shit your in. First, your boyfriend dumped you, now you randomly have three guys who sent you applications to be your next boyfriend and you’re still going to have to see them for the rest of the semester if you reject them. Lastly, you’re going to have to go to your ex’s place to get your laptop after having made a scene yesterday, and your phone is dead so you can’t cry to Oikawa about the deep shit you’re in.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #atsumu x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu scenarios #kuroo scenarios #akaashi scenarios #kuroo #atsumu #akaashi #kuroo tetsurou #atsumu miya #akaashi keiji #hq #hq scenarios

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aeliagioia · 2 years ago

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FIC WRITER INTERVIEW

@ianandmickeygallavich tagged me so here we go!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

On AO3, I have 63 works. All of my old stuff is posted elsewhere.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

933,212

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ever Mine, Ever Thine, Ever Ours (Schitt's Creek) 799

It's Always Been You (Shameless) 415

A Hat, A Bat and That's Not All (Schitt's Creek) 320

Tell Me Something Good... (Schitt's Creek) 306

The Way We Get By (Shameless) 304

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! If someone actually takes the time to leave a comment on something I wrote, I will always try to reply - even if it's just to say thanks :)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't generally write angsty endings but I think Phone Call at the Crack of Noon qualifies.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I write mostly happy endings. Maybe EMETEO has the happiest one.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

No. I don't read them either as a rule. @kelbottumbles and I started a Schitt's Creek/Hogwarts crossover many, many moons ago but it never fully came together past the first chapter.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not flat out "I hated this" but I've gotten the occasional crappy comment.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yup. I live for the smut. For the last few years it's been 95% m/m smut but when I started writing fic it was m/f

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, two of my Shameless fics have been translated into Russian.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've been a beta-reader of sorts and have workshopped stuff with friends, made suggestions for plot points and dialogue. I wrote the sex scenes for a fic when a former friend asked me. The one true collaboration was David's Delicate Follicles with princesstigerlily. We used to belong to the same Discord server and we live wrote that one together.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Romione got me writing fanfic before I knew that's what I was doing, so it holds a very special place in my heart. I was inspired by David and Patrick's love story and it yanked me out of a long period of writer's block, so that one is also special to me. But I think Gallavich reigns supreme. My boys when through so much. Seeing where they started and how far they came together still takes my breath away.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

This is a tough one. I have a number of these posted and in draft form on my laptop. I can't say that I'll *definitely* never finish them but because of school, I just haven't had the time to write anything that isn't for class.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I'm going to echo @ianandmickeygallavich and say dialogue.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm a pantser. I often lose focus and steam for writing an idea and can't get back on track when I don't know how to get a story where it's meant to go. I'm striving to become a plantser!

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm semi-comfortable doing it myself but only when a story calls for it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Wizarding World, specifically Romione.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I can't think of any, to be honest. There are ships I follow casually but the ones I love the most, I write.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hm. I think Patrick Before the Brewers is way up there on that list. It might be tied with Say Hello 2 Heaven, which nobody reads but I love it anyway.

~~~~~~

Thanks for tagging me!

It was really cool to look through all my old stuff!

@bellafarella @callielee227 @energievie @iansfreckles @kelbottumbles @notherenewjersey @shameless-notashamed @wildxwired

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saturnsummer · 3 years ago

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i don't mind forever.

AU: When Sol is handed a case, she doesn't realise how big the case gets. Luckily for her, her best friend is here. (AU of lawyers at Hankuk Law Firm.)

notes: all credits go to @thenerdywriter !! she gave me this prompt just days after i joined tumblr, and i’ve been working on and off on it ever since. my first au series, so please go easy on me! i know i’m practically killing myself for doing two series at once, but i’ll deal with it later. as always, big love to everyone! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4035 words

one.

Sol scrunches her hair in frustration. She twists her long, wavy light brown hair in a bun, fixing it with a jab of her white, long chopstick hairpin. She adjusts her bangs for good measure and resumes with her report. She reaches over to her coffee mug, only to find it empty. Great, it’s the third coffee she had today, and it wasn’t even lunch. Hearing her colleagues nagging on drinking too much coffee in her head, she stands from her desk and pushes the glass door of her office to the staff pantry. Her heels click against the marble floors as she strides across, filling her cup with iced water before retreating back.

It would have been a normal day at the Hankuk Law firm, but it wasn’t when she had such a pressing case.

It's been weeks. A client of hers has pressed charges against Lee Man Ho, claiming that he scammed her life savings. Lee Manho was a convict that was charged for raping multiple women and on several occasions, sexual harassment. He had been on good behaviour after his release for a couple of years, with no complaints and no news. Only now did his name resurface. He was snarky in his speech, manipulative and quick with his tongue, but most of all had a sinister smile that sent shivers.

Sol, being Sol, couldn’t say no to the poor woman. How could she? She experienced her fair share of poverty from growing up in a single-parent family that made enough to get by. She sympathised with her feelings, knowing just how stressed this poor mother must be when she can no longer afford to pay rent for her home, even less so the necessities for her toddler kids. Because, too many times, Sol was found broke and skipping meals so she could have her younger sister, Byeol, be fed instead.

With the help of the local police, she found more victims to be scammed, all similar in their scenario. Manho would call under the alias of a financial aid consultant, sometimes an insurance agent or bank teller. Then, he would extract their bank numbers from them, effectively draining their money away. By the time they victims tried to call back, the number would be out of order, or picked up by another voice, evident that he used another number to cover up his.

None of his victims had anything in common. Some were rich, some were poor. Some were female, some were male. And Manho had long disappeared in the wind the moment he got out of jail. He was said to be sighted once and when the police placed eyes on him, they lost him that same day.

His digital footprint was an utter headache as well. The police had other things to matter, and figuring out his digital footprint was the least of their concerns when they had important murders and urgent matters to solve.

But two could play this game.

Seungjae was a good friend of Sol’s. They were close acquaintances in school and kept in close contact. He, unlike Sol, was a whiz with computer codes and had his fair share of hacking experience. She remembers how he would hack into the system during school events and broadcast short music videos on the school televisions during breaks. Despite their age gap, he was always courteous, nice and kind hearted in helping others.

Seungjae eventually found a job with the police force, using his skills to legally hack criminal networks and dark nets. He was essentially part of a task force that identified suspicious activities like mass radicalisation, fake news and essentially tracking down internet hackers. It was a no-brainer that Sol would approach him, even though she knew that he could only legally hack under his work orders, not for personal favours.

Well it’s best she at least try.

She called Seungjae, who was fortunately free, and agreed to meet at a cafe. The sun was out, warming them from the autumn breeze that chilled them. Sol grabbed her coat and placed a post-it on her door, informing her colleagues of her business. Sol, while dressed in a warm coat, was undoubtedly freezing from the breeze. If only she could go back to law school, where she wore jeans and sweatshirts all day. Instead, she had a light blue long sleeved blouse, a knee length pencil skirt and a midnight blue blazer, and her only coat she had weakly shielding her from the cold.

“Sol A, what gives me the feeling that you aren’t calling for the purpose of catching up, but for a favour?” Seungjae asks as soon as his ice coffee arrives. Sol is amused at his habit, that he still calls her Sol A to differentiate her from Sol B, her colleague just working next door to her. But in response, she gives a small frown.

“Oppa, please? You have to help me with this. This case is driving me nuts!” She says in frustration as she stirs her ice tea. “Look, he’s off the grid, like properly off. I can’t even track his number or his email accounts. When the police placed plainclothes on him, he was like a ninja and they lost him within the first hour.”

Seungjae’s frown deepens. He knows of people who are good on the internet, but for an ex-convict to be running this alone? Furthermore, a convict who had no criminal record of scamming, conning and IT based crimes? There was definitely more to this.

“Sol A, do you think that he’s working alone?” Seungjae asks, stopping Sol in her speech. She tilts her head, the way she does normally when she puts the puzzle pieces in order. From her bag, she takes out a notebook and scribbles down the facts, then pushes it to the centre of the table.

“Okay, so we know that Lee Manho was convicted of rape and sexual harassment long time ago. Now, he’s running scams, and has no known background of coding or conning people, yet somehow the money appears in his bank account and it disappears the next moment.” Sol states as she circles her notes with a pencil and Seungjae nods.

“I think… I think you’re right, oppa. He’s definitely not working alone. And he could just be the middleman bringing the cash from one place to another.” Sol breaths out, realising how big the case has gotten. She’s not just going after Lee Manho, but she’s going after an entire team.

“You said that you can’t track his whereabouts, people he communicates with and where the money is going to?” SeungJae asks. Sol nods.

“Looks like someone is covering up the transfers and his tracks.” Seungjae concludes. Seungjae furrows his eyebrows. Sol recognises his thinking face and tries to plea once more.

“Please, oppa? You helped me check out and verify Yeseul’s boyfriend, which saved her life! Please, oppa…” Sol pleads with him. Seungjae knew how much Sol was going to dedicate to this, and besides, he was legally going to hack. He was fighting for those who couldn’t fight. What difference would it make? It felt wrong to ignore such a desperate plea.

“Fine. But you have to let me use a laptop that isn’t mine. I can’t have my superiors know I’m hacking into a case that wasn’t submitted to me again. God, Yeseul’s ex-boyfriend case got me a bloody earful from the captain.” He finally agrees, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. Sol lets out a relieved sigh and picks her coat too.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Save it for later, when I’m done hacking. Let’s head back to your office for now.” He says and walks to the door. At that moment, Sol’s phone rings, and she picks up, knowing who will call at this time of the day. If it’s lunch, it has to either be Yeseul or Joon Hwi.

“Are you joining us for lunch, sunbae?” Sol takes a moment to close her eyes in frustration. This man is going to drive her insane.

“Yeah. Are you all ordering?”

“That’s right. Extra pickles?”

“Always. Add one more jjampong and kkampungi, too.” The receiving end goes silent.

“Who’s joining?” Sol gives a knowing smile as she unlocks her car.

“An old friend of ours.”

-----

“Wah, it’s been a long time since Seungjae-hyung could eat with us!” BokGi says, as he passes out the chopsticks and Yebeom unpacks the meals. Seungjae only gives a small smile while helping out with the food.

Despite the cold weather, the odd group of friends found pleasure in eating outdoors as opposed to their office pantry. It was too noisy some days, too quiet on some, and knowing how chaotic the group can get during lunch, it only made sense to have their meals downstairs at some benches. Besides, they could use a break from being stuck in their offices all day and look at trees changing their colours to shades of red, oranges and brown.

“Thank your noona here, for convincing me to come.” He says as he nods his head over to Sol, who is busy unpacking her pickles and noodles. Joon Hwi gives a smile as he stares at the delight on her face when she sees those yellow pickles on a plastic saucer.

“Hyung, what are you here for?” Joon Hwi asks, as he unpacks his noodles.

“This lady here has enlisted my help once again for a case she is working on. But it has to be off the books. Thus, my presence here instead of my cubicle back at my headquarters.” Sol chokes and she quickly takes a sip of her tea.

“Oppa, why do you make me sound so law breaking…” Sol grumbles. Yeseul, sitting next to her only gives a small smile and squeezes her hand.

“Seungjae-oppa did help me bring Yeongchang to jail. So I would consider his work, whether under his boss orders or not, to be lawful.” Yeseul quips quietly. The table grows silent for a moment, knowing how this topic took a mental toll out of them, but Yeseul was hit the hardest.

When Yeseul first started dating Yeongchang, everyone didn’t mind it. Only when Sol witnessed how Yeseul would be frightened to pick up his call and spotting bruises on her arms did she get Seungjae to dig into his personal life. Lo and behold, not only was he abusive, he was seeing two other women and they were treated badly, if not, worse.

Yeseul’s heart broke, this being her first love and the man she envisioned marrying. But with her friends' support, she took it upon herself to press charges on him, for the women he tortured and for herself. Representing herself and the women that he had failed to protect and taken advantage of, it wasn’t easy for her, having been so blind in love and still harbouring feelings.

The group stood by and silently supported. They accompanied her trials, no matter how busy they were. Sol remembers Jiho running from one courtroom to another on one occasion when he had to immediately attend a court hearing for a client he was defending. Sol had Yeseul stay over at her apartment during the entire situation, while Yeseul searched for an apartment nearby after moving out of his house. Even Sol B, who was usually cold, bought her meals and stayed to eat when the girls spent late nights in silence and drinking.

Finally, the judge ruled that Yeongchang was to be charged in jail. For the sexual, mental and physical abuse of these women, including Yeseul. It has been months since then and time can only tell how much she has healed. The rest can only give their silent support and be there for her.

“I didn’t mean to make the mood bad. Come, let’s eat. Also, what is the case about, unnie?” Yeseul quickly breaks into a smile, an attempt to let everyone know she’s okay. Sol gives a brief description of her case to everyone while she slurps her noodles and pickles.

“This is going to be difficult. If you guys are right, you might be dealing with something bigger than just Lee Manho.” Sol B states and Sol gives a nodded reply.

“Please don’t tell Superior Kim or Superior Yang about this. I really need to break this case and Seungjae-oppa is my only way to.” Sol informs her group. They give half hearted murmurs, not wanting to be meddled into Sol’s affairs. Well, all but one.

“Yah, why didn’t you come find me? I have my own contacts in the police as well.” Joon Hwi asks, a slight frown on his face. From anyone else looking, it would have been easy to miss. But for Sol, she knew that he was upset, interpreting his complaints as “Why didn’t you come and tell me about this first?”

“Because, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam Pass, you have been too busy! Do I really need to remind you to eat every damm moment? You drive me crazy some days!” Sol argues. They launch into a light hearted argument, as the rest of the lunch group watches with equal fervour as they eat their meals.

“Guys, stop arguing, my ears hurt.” Jiho said, his tone in slight annoyance as he dove straight into the kkampungi and tangsuyuk. Sol finally gave up fighting, earning a teasing smirk from Joon Hwi. They continued their noisy meal, chatting and catching up with Seungjae. Seungjae gives them some updates of his pregnant wife and some interesting cases.

After their meal, they separated their trash neatly. The sun now hides away in the clouds, leaving little warmth against the chilly breeze of autumn. Sol brushes her coat and rubs her hands and arms. If only she could afford a better one than this old coat she’s been using since her first year in university.

Joon Hwi notices her trying to warm up against the cold and takes his coat from the chair, layering it on her. He honestly didn’t feel cold, but he knows he has always been the stronger one to resist against the cold. For Sol, it must be freezing.

“Take mine.” He simply says, taking the packs of plastic from Sol. If Sol had a hint of blush, he pretended to not notice.

“Oh, thanks.” She said as she took wipes from her bag and wiped down the mess on the benches and tables. “But I don’t need it. We’re heading back to the office anyway.” She shrugs his coat off and drapes it over her arm, returning it to him. He pushes it to her, and leans in closer to her.

“Help me carry it, so I don’t have to, sunbae.” He teases with a smirk, sending Sol in a fit of frustrated squeaks, chasing him as best as she can in her heels. Sol knows Joon Hwi gets a thing out of his teasing, and sends him annoyed glares as she continues to clear the tables. Jiho manages to sigh and Sol B rolls her eyes as she dumps the trash in the bins.

The group grabs their bags as they head back into the office, where Sol checks Seungjae in as a visitor at the reception. The receptionist hands him a blue lanyard with a visitor pass as Sol leads him to the elevators. Jiho and Bokgi are off to meet clients, and Sol B is headed to court for a hearing. Yeseul stops at another floor to her office with Yebeom, who needs to pick up some reports from a colleague.

Joon Hwi follows Sol to her office with Seungjae, despite his office being upstairs. Sol grabs her personal laptop from her bag, which is separate from her desktop computer and passes it to Seungjae, who takes a seat opposite her and starts programming the computer to begin hacking.

“What, did you just let him use your personal laptop?” Joon Hwi asks in concern as he takes a seat on a spare chair.

“Let him do it. Don’t you have your reports to do?” Sol asks as she turns to her own reports before typing in her findings for the new Lee Manho case. Joon Hwi doesn’t reply, and Sol sends an annoyed glance. He’s not going to leave unless he knows all the information of this case.

“Okay, I got it.” Seungjae says after a series of clicks and turns the screen to show Sol what he has found. Sol leans into a chart of bank transfers.

"From what I can tell, it seems like the money enters his bank account and is transferred to an offshore account. I can't trace where the money goes from there anymore." Seungjae explains as he uses the cursor to show them. "I can't tell who owns the account either. If I could take a guess, it's probably the mastermind of this."

"Wait, look. Lee Manho is getting paid a constant amount every single time before a large sum comes in and leaves." Joon Hwi points. Sol grabs her printed papers as she matches the amounts that her clients have given here. They match exactly to the large sums, but have no relation to the constant amount that he gets every scam.

"He's getting paid to scam? Tch, God, I hate this crook." Sol says through gritted teeth. Joon Hwi sighs and observes the anger rising in Sol. He places a hand on top of her clenched fist for comfort and her fist stops clenching as she sighs in response.

"Sol A, I can't track his location with your laptop. It's not exactly ideal, since it can be tracked back." Seungjae says, eyes darting while continuously typing. Joon Hwi could sense the disappointment in Sol's face, but it can't be helped. It was too dangerous from her location and IP address.

"Oppa, thank you for helping. I owe you one." Sol says as Seungjae scrubs her laptop clean from hacking traces. Seungjae returns her laptop and stands up. "You should go back, oppa. You've been gone too long."

"I'll keep you updated." He says as Sol guides him out of the office. Once she shuts the door, she pulls the hairpin from her hair and crunches her hair in frustration. She has the information on where the money is going, but it's no use when she can't find out where he is. Joon Hwi takes a seat opposite her.

"Don't stress." He says softly, and Sol bites her lip in frustration.

"Don't stress? How can I not? The police aren't giving me any information on him, delaying his location tracking! I can't even find him! How am I supposed to get evidence to charge him, if he can't even appear to show up to court?" Sol angrily spills, her hands flailing. Joon Hwi sighs but grabs a hold of her wrist.

"Don't get swayed by your emotions." Joon Hwi firmly says, sparingly into Sol's anger-filled eyes. She pulls her wrist back, taking a deep breath before gathering her hair up again.

"Fine." She grumbles. "Get out of my office, Prosecutor Han. Don't you have work?" This earns a soft smile from Joon Hwi. As he heads to the door, he turns back before he leaves.

"Don't... Don't do anything stupid or impulsive, you hear me?"

Sol clicks her tongue and gives a half-hearted nod. She turns back to her report and updates her findings and tries to diffuse the thought of asking Seungjae to hack with her laptop to find Man Ho's location.

For Kang Sol A, such thoughts don't leave easily.

-----

"You sure?" Seungjae asks, seated in Sol's car. Sol takes a deep breath in and nods.

It was a few days after Seungjae visited the office. Sol called the police as much as she could, but they always left her on the line or just said "we're working on it." Thus, Sol told Seungjae to meet her at a park, before driving to a random alley and passing him her laptop.

"Yeah, I'll take my chances." She replied. Seungjae sighs and begins typing away.

"You know you're putting yourself at risk?" He asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll put myself at risk for the justice of my clients." She says firmly. A few minutes pass as Sol stares out of the car and watches the bright moon and the clouds floating by in misty swirls.

"Got it." Sol turns her attention to Seungjae. On the screen is a map and a blinking red dot of Manho’s location. Sol reads the map and puts her car back in drive before turning out of the alley.

"Woah, do you know where you are going?" Seungjae asks, grabbing onto the overhead handle for support and his hand securing the laptop.

"Seungjae-oppa, don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Joon Hwi." Sol ignores his question as she speeds up the car, turning into a drop-off point of a train station.

"Sol A, you're-"

"Sorry, oppa. But I need to find him. I can't sit and wait for the police anymore. I promise you, I'll be safe." Sol says. Seungjae couldn't say no. He knows how stubborn Sol is, how when she decides on something, she will commit to it wholeheartedly.

"If he's armed, you could get yourself in danger." Seungjae exasperatedly sighs. It was too big a risk to see the junior he treats as a little sister put herself at risk.

"I'll be fine. Look, you're on my speed dial. You know that I can handle myself. There's a reason why I took years of self-defence classes." Sol tells him. Seungjae nods his head unwillingly.

"You better call me after you're done." He says as he opens the door and gets out of the car. "Please, please stay safe." Sol nods and gives a small smile.

"Thank you, oppa." Sol drives away immediately, leaving Seungjae to pinch his nose bridge in frustration and concern. Silently, as he boards the train, he prays for Sol's safety.

-----

Sol knows the area well. As she parks her car at a carpark, she checks to make sure Manho is still at the bar. The blinking dot stays stagnant at the bar, not moving ever since she dropped Seungjae off. Getting out, she tightens her coat around her and thanks herself for the long trousers she's wearing. At least she isn't wearing a skirt, if she needs to beat someone up.

Entering the bar, she naturally takes a slow walk around. But hidden by the corner of the bar tables sit a lone man, with a cap, dressed in black button up and holding a glass of golden whiskey. She knew that was her target.

Taking a seat next to him, she orders a glass of soda water from the bartender. Man Ho chuckles next to her as he sets his glass down. Turning his head, he faces Sol with sly eyes, lips curled at the corner.

"Prosecutor Kang, you're quick." She hears him say and a chill goes down her spine. She lets her eyes meet the cold stare of Manho.

"Oh, you think I don't know you? You're the one after me more than the police are for the past weeks." Man Ho sinisterly says, a sick grin on his face. Sol grits her teeth and takes a deep breath to soothe her anger.

"Why are you doing this? You think it's fun?Watching my clients suffer?" Sol says through her gritted teeth. He only scoffs.

"My, my. Don't want you getting agitated now, don't we? We just started." He says, sipping from his glass again.

"Answer my question." She says with force. Man Ho sips on his glass, swirling the golden brown liquid against the large square cubes of ice as he exhales.

As the words fall from his mouth, Sol grows as cold as the glass in her hand. Her hands slightly shake as she hitches her breath. When her shaky eyes turn to Manho’s, his eyes are sly with a mocking grin. No, he can’t know.

"You’re just as feisty as your sister, aren’t you?”

68 notes · View notes

silverarmedassassin · 4 years ago

Text

Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

[ Previous | Masterlist | Next ]

It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

#bucky x reader #actor!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #actor au #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 4 years ago

Text

Forever & Always: Stage 1 - Denial | Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Witch!Reader; Platonic Avengers x Reader

Words: A little less than 2.2k words

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Grief (Loss of Parent), Depression, Anxiety, Angst, & Fluff (more to be added) If you see something that I missed don't be afraid to tell me.

Synopsis: Y/N “Birdy” (nicknamed by her family), comes from a long line of witches and warlocks, living her days at the New Avengers Compound, alongside her friends. The Avengers are part of her family and her family is always welcome to the compound. Things for once seemed to be going well now that all was right from the attack on Thanos, everyone was alive, all was forgiven, friendships were thriving, that all ended when Birdy’s brother came calling with sad news, their mother had suddenly passed. These are the stages of grief Birdy faces, through the loss of her best friend, her protector, her mother.

Info: The Sebastian edit in the moodboard is done by @nix-akimbo and the dividers are done by @firefly-graphics. A big thank you too @sllooney for beta editing this, all mistakes are mine. I've had this finished for over a week I just hadn't had the heart to post, but I had my laptop out so here it is! I do not give permission for this to be translated or to be posted on other sites without my written permission.

Forever & Always Masterlist | My Masterlist

Baby wails rang through the kitchen as Birdy sat on the floor with her back against the cabinet. She felt exhausted as she tried to calm her speeding heart, her husband was gone on a mission, and she has been left to take care of the 6 month old twins on her own.

Lyra and Grant had been crying since they had woken up this morning at the crack of dawn and it was now noon. Birdy had tried feeding them, rocking them, tummy time, nothing was working. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Getting up from the floor after making sure the twins were still safe in their playpen in the corner, they both just looked at her red faced, breaking her heart. Birdy made her way to the chalkboard picking up a piece of chalk, writing; Mama HELP! I need you please, I’m having a crisis and I don’t know what to do.

Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Apparently so, because the words 'on my way' appeared immediately under her message. Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Birdy grabbed the pitcher of Orange Blood tea out of the fridge and the shortbread cookies from the jar where she had been hiding them from her husband.

The back door to the kitchen opened and the older Lyra walked in, met by the sounds of her grandbabies wailing their little hearts out. Birdy’s mother looked at her with a soft smile, taking in her daughter's exhausted frame. Her hair was pulled off her face in a ponytail, oversized yoga pants hung loosely on her hips, with a tank and cardigan to match. Birdy looked just about done, but still so beautiful in her mother’s eyes.

“My little Birdy, sit down, I got this.” The mother moved behind her daughter and gently steered her to the breakfast nook, while she went in the direction of the playpen.

“Oh my little cherubs, what seems to be the matter?” Speaking to the babies in a soft voice, the grandmother grabbed Grant and brought him over to his mother, who quickly cradled the bundle of joy in her arms, while she returned for her namesake, cradling her closely, shushing her softly. It didn’t do much but as Lyra sat at the breakfast nook across from her daughter she began to rock the baby in her arms, Birdy copying her mother’s actions, brushing her finger down Grant’s sweet button nose.

“Let’s see… your belly's full, you are clean, warm, nothing seems to be off, I think your Mumma has just forgotten the most important thing, a lullaby!” Birdy looked at her mother with wide eyes, while she simply just smiled at her. “When you were a baby you could be quite fussy as well and the only way to get you to settle down was for me to sing a little lullaby. So I think what these two need is a little diddy and they’ll be right as rain.” Birdy’s mother began to hum one of the ever so familiar songs from her childhood. A song to ease her worries as her mother held her.

“I'm rocking you to sleep, the water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart. You'll always be a part of me.” both babies had stopped crying and were now yawning, holding onto the fingers of the women holding them.

“Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to dream. And dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullaby, then in your heart, there will always be a part of me.” Little Lyra had drifted off into slumberland, while Grant had gone quiet, his eyes fighting hard to stay open but as Birdy continued to brush her pointer finger down his nose, it was becoming a losing battle.

“Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die, that’s how you and I will be.” Both babies asleep, Birdy looked up at her mother in relief but stopped when she saw the sad look in her familiar eyes.

“Birdy since you were just a Babe in my arms I dreamed this moment over and over again, it never varied until now. I need you to know that I love you so much and I’m so very proud of you, proud of the woman you have become. You are a superhero, not many mothers out there can say their child is a superhero.” it felt as if her heart had dropped to the pit of Birdy’s stomach as she watched her mother put Little Lyra back in the playpen with a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sharing this moment with you now because I know it’s going to come true for you, but I need you to remember something for me...” Lyra placed her hand on her daughter's cheek, brushing the single tear away. “Remember you were loved by me. That you made my life a happy one, and there is no tragedy in that.” Kissing Birdy on the forehead? Lyra moved towards the back door, her daughter getting up as carefully as possible, hoping not to wake the babies.

“Don’t go please, I love you!”

With a smile on her face Lyra blew a kiss to her daughter and then was out the door.

Birdy gasped sitting up. Wanda, falling off of her, being forced from the comfortable place where she had laid her head on Birdy’s stomach to watch the Breakfast Club in the blanket fort that Peter and Morgan had assembled earlier in the day. The fort took up over half of the New Avengers main living room and sat in front of the television. It's where the duo, Peter and Morgan had hung out and watched cartoons together, waiting for budget meetings and debriefings for the week to be over.

Wanda and Birdy had quickly fallen in love with the fort, and with Peter and Morgan for inviting them inside to help keep the little girl company until her parents were done working for the day. When Morgan had left they had decided to leave it up for a John Hughes movie marathon. Bucky and Steve had come to join the youngest Avengers in watching the films.

All eyes had moved from Breakfast Club to a gasping Birdy. Wanda’s hand was quick to grab hers and give it a reassuring squeeze, trying to pull her from her frantic daze. Birdy’s eyes started to scan the cozy space, seeing that the popcorn was all gone and Peter had stopped mid way to the Jelly Beans, now peering at her in worry. Bucky was on his side looking from her to Steve, as he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to give comfort.

“I’ll go get Mr. Barton and Miss Natasha!” Peter’s quick reflexes had him out of the fort in seconds, without knocking anything down, before anyone could say anything.

Birdy was trying so hard to figure out what was going on. She knew where she was, at the compound. She knew it was Friday, movie nights with Peter and Wanda, and that she had fallen asleep at the end of Weird Science, her least favorite John Hughes movie.

She had been dreaming, yet it felt so real. But she wasn’t carrying a child and she wasn’t even dating anyone, so it made no sense. Also her mother just leaving like that? Strange. The more Birdy thought on the dream the more her head started to hurt. Someone calling her name pulled her from her thoughts and looking up Clint stood crouched above her.

“Hey Kiddo, are you back with us?” Clint held out his hand to Birdy, which she gladly took, letting go of Wanda’s, and allowing the archer to pull her up off the blanketed floor. Natasha stood at the entrance of the fort in her pajamas, looking in, watching as Clint hugged the younger woman. Right away Natasha knew something was off.

“Yeah, I’m sorry you guys, I had the strangest dream and it-” Birdy’s face was scrunched up in almost confusion, as she stared off behind Clint’s shoulder. “-It felt so real.” Her voice died off as Clint hugged her close to him.

“It wasn’t a vision was it?” Natasha moved inside the blanket fort, her question was more of one of concern. Every time that Birdy had a vision, something bad was about to happen or come their way, like the time she had envisioned the meeting with General Ross, the next day the team was torn in two, because of the Sokovia Accords. Birdy just shook her head, it wasn’t a vision that she knew of.

“Well if it was just a dream, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Wanda and Peter, why don’t you go make chamomile tea. Steve go adjust the temperature? I think it’s a little warm. Bucky do whatever it is you want to do.” Natasha waved the former assassin off, “Clint and I are going to just sit in here with you until you feel better.” Sitting on the loveseat, Natasha patted the empty cushion next to her as Clint guided Birdy to sit next to her.

Before anyone could do what the Black Widow demanded, a gust of wind blew through knocking many of the blankets to the ground. Bucky was up on his feet in flash as none of the windows were open. This gust of wind was not ordinary. Steve moved to the opening of the fort with a pillow in front of him, peeking out into the living room.

In front of the windows facing the vast forestry surrounding the compound, stood Pietro Maximoff and Jasper Valentine, the pair of them holding on to Birdy’s older brother Rory. The trio looked disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and their hair all over the place. Steve felt his body relax when he recognized them, dropping the pillow to the ground. Scoffing, Jasper let go of the warlock first, and made his way forward, hugging Steve.

“Rory Sellar, what have I told you about just portaling unannounced into the compound?” Steve let go of Jasper before he made his way to Pietro, hugging the twin of his teammate, then to Rory, who just cleared his throat and looked to the ground. Pietro shook his head, getting Steve’s attention, immediately the scolding died in Steve’s throat.

“Steve, is Birdy awake?” Rory’s voice cracked as Natasha and Bucky looked out. Bucky gave a slight wave of his hand at the newcomers, while Natasha tilted her head in the direction of the fort. The group made their way inside the massive fort following behind Natasha. Birdy, jumping up from the couch at the sight of her older brother, rushed to give him a hug. Rory took his little sister in his arms, hugging her tightly, as he kissed her on the crown of her forehead.

“I just had the weirdest dream…” Birdy pulled away as she heard Rory sniffle, looking up at him in concern.

“Birdy I’m so sorry, she wouldn’t let me portal to come get you, she said she didn’t want you to see her that way.” Birdy’s face scrunched up in confusion. “I begged her to let me come get you, but she said no, and Dad agreed.” Rory started to let the tears fall.

“Rory, you aren’t making any sense, what is going on?” Pietro was by the warlock's side in an instant, his hand on his shoulder, looking at Wanda, who gasped after reading her twin brother's mind. Wanda looked away with tears in her eyes, hand covering her mouth in shock and sadness.

“What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?” Thousands of questions swam through her head, as her brother grabbed her hand, holding it as Natasha made her way to the younger girl's side.

“It’s mom Birdy, she’s gone.” tears started to build up behind the girl's eyes at her brother's words. Shaking her head, Birdy felt as if the room dropped ten degrees in that moment. “She has gone to be with souls in the great beyond.”

Before anyone knew it Birdy was falling to knees, a cry erupted from her mouth, “No!”

Birdy screamed while the power in the building started to flicker as the walls started to shake. Natasha, at Birdy’s side, pulled her to her side. Steve looked around realizing they needed to get the young witch calmed down or they were going to be in trouble.

“Rory you need to get her out of here, the building isn’t going to be able to handle this sort of shaking.” As he spoke part of the stucco from the ceiling fell on his shoulder.

Rory reached down holding onto his little sister's shoulder and looked back at Clint, “I’ll be right back for you.” In a flash, through a portal, the trio were gone. As fast the shaking and flickering lights had started they had stopped. The rest of the group stood there staring at the empty spot that once was Natasha, Rory and Birdy, feeling a sudden emptiness with the news they had heard. Things were about to change and it was out of their control.

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mrsbenedictbridgerton · 4 years ago

Text

The truth about loving you

Polin Modern au

Part one

4.5k

*Here it is - finally -part one! I hope you enjoy! *

Loving Colin Bridgerton had been the joy and the heartache of her life. It was time for Penelope to move on. He was never going to notice her. He was never going to love her the way she loved him. Always travelling, always seeking something... Colin was back in the small town of Grosvenor. But something was different and he had a feeling, it was him.

Also on AO3

Prologue

Penelope Featherington was well aware that, generally, the idea of love at first sight was laughed at. In addition, the thought that a young woman who had just reached the age of sixteen should find the love of her life in such circumstances was preposterous to most people. Well, almost everyone, really.

But she had. Fallen in love that is. Deep, head over heels, irrevocably in love. With Colin Bridgerton, brother of her dearest friend Eloise. Tall, handsome, charming… kind. Yes, she knew within a few minutes of meeting him and of becoming mesmerised by his smiling eyes that he was kind. She knew that he loved his family to distraction, that he was decent, that he was caring and that he did not have one bad bone in his body. That whoever should be lucky enough to win his heart would be treasured and loved…

So, really, one could not blame her for the instant, fatal bolt of something that had left her painfully in love with a man who saw her, she shuddered to think, as almost another sister. And he already have plenty of those. Penelope, being somewhat shy (and certainly lacking in the kind of confidence that would have let her believe she had any chance of being seen in anything more than sororal terms) had hidden her infatuation behind smiles and blushing cheeks. She had told no one - not a single soul - and miraculously none had guessed. She daren’t divulge the deepest secret of her heart to anyone. It was her private treasure; every moment in his presence was a potent mixture of exquisite joy and painful torment. He was the sunshine of her life.

And he was completely, utterly oblivious. He had been both the greatest pleasure and tragedy of her life. For twelve. Whole. Years.

Until one day, as she approached the age of 29 and began to have those philosophical internal conversations that one often has when reaching a significant age, she had a revelation. No more, she told herself, no more…

Something had to change.

Part One

Twelve years, three months and two days of being in love with Colin Bridgerton

With a final few clicks, followed by a deep sigh, Penelope flicked the lid of her laptop closed and glanced at her watch. Six pm. That gave her exactly sixty minutes to prepare herself for the town Spring Gala - otherwise known as Lady Agatha Danbury’s annual party; held every April by the social leader of the small Oxfordshire town of Grosvenor, in which not a soul dared to miss either through fear of Lady Danbury’s interrogation at a later date or simply because it was the first post-Christmas social event, where the chill was finally fading from the air and the dark nights of December had been replaced by the tempting promise of the bright summer evenings to follow.

Penelope didn’t know if she had the energy to face the entire town, but go she would. Really, she should try and make the most of the evening. She would actually miss the predictability of life here. In Grosvenor, nothing of real substance ever changed. It was comforting, but it was a crutch. It was a life she had clung to to avoid making the hard decisions.

As she stood to leave her desk, her eyes fell upon a polaroid. It was a picture of Pen, her best friend Eloise and Eloise’s brother, Colin, taken at Christmas a few years ago, they all were wearing ridiculous jumpers and Colin was trying to stuff a whole mince pie in his mouth. A frown crossed her face. She grabbed the picture and tossed it into the first drawer of her desk, slamming it with a satisfying thud.

It’s time to grow up, Penelope, she told herself.

It was time for a change.

After locking her door, Pen stashed her keys in her pocket and… nearly jumped out of her skin. Perched on the small brick wall surrounding her cottage was Eloise Bridgerton, her oldest friend, lit cigarette dangling from one hand and black leather jacket slung over her shoulder.

“Jesus, El, you scare me!” Her friend smirked and took a long drag of her cigarette. “And you know if your mother catches you smoking she will kill you.”

Eloise scoffed. “I’m 28 years old Pen. I think I’m pretty far past the age when my mother rules my life.” Pen gave her a pointed look as she put out the cigarette on the stone wall before slipping it back in the packet. “Okay, so she could make my life a misery. As you well know I smoke precisely three times a year: the Danbury party, the Smythe-Smith musical evening and Simon and Daphne’s Christmas Fete.”

Pen knew her thoughts on forced social occasions, they were very similar to her own. Forced socialisation was akin to mental torture to the middle Bridgerton sibling because, like Pen, she had little time for the more vapid members of town society, and sadly, they made up a high percentage of those one would meet on such occasions. Which was why, as ever, she was once again thankful for friendship with Eloise. They were as much alike as they were different but there was something intangible between them that transcended the ordinary. On a higher level, they just fit. Many a time they’d postulate over large glasses of wine about becoming eccentric spinsters one day, with a dozen cats each and a cozy little house that overlooked the sea. It was a comforting thought for someone like Pen, who usually avoided thoughts of the future.

Slipping her arm through her friend’s, Penelope pulled Eloise to stand and began to walk in the direction of the Danbury’s large, sprawling house.“And then why do you attend tonight?” Penelope teased, knowing fair well what the answer was.

“Danbury would have my head on a platter - and then my mother would serve it for dinner. You know how those two are!”

Indeed, Penelope was well aware of the friendship between two of the town’s grande dames, both forceful in their own way and both determined matchmakers. “I wonder who they are trying to set up this year?”

“Don’t look at me,” El spat with an incredulous look, “Mother let that go a long time ago.” “Hyacinth maybe?”

“She’s far too busy with her graduate degree. She’s determined to get firsts across the board. She’s now onto her fourth language you know?” Pen did know El’s youngest sister had an uncanny knack with languages, it was unnerving really when noone else in her family spoke more than a smattering of bad French. She’d already also mastered Spanish and Mandarin - helped of course through the year she had spent travelling in China. Oh how Pen wanted to go to China… okay, perhaps not China, maybe she wasn’t that adventurous. But just anywhere other than here. “Pen?”

“Hmm?”

Eloise jabbed Pen softly with her elbow. “You like you are on another planet.”

“Just thinking,” she replied, not really being dishonest.

“Well I’m glad to see I am such scintillating company. I was actually trying to tell you I have news.”

Oh. News. Eloise had news? This was the moment Pen had been waiting for. She wanted El to know first, she hadn’t even told her mother yet...

Pausing, Penelope turned to face her friend and forced a smile. “Actually, I, too, have some news-”

Just then, a large pair of arms wrapped around Pen from behind, hugging tightly around her waist before lifting her and spinning her around.

Oh God. She’d know those arms anywhere. She’d know that cologne. She’d just know it was…

“Colin! Put me down!,” she screamed, wriggling from his grip, “I’m far too heavy!”

Feet landing back on the pavement, Penelope stumbled a second before spinning on her heel to face him.

“Nonsense, you are light as a feather Pen,” Colin replied, grinning as reached forward and pressed a loud kiss on her cheek - leaving the patch of skin his lips had touched tingling and a deep blush threatened to engulf her face. Thank god it was getting dark already.

“That was my news,” Eloise announced smugly, crossing her arms. “Brother three is back on British soil.”

Stunned was not quite the word to describe Penelope’s state of mind as she stared at Colin Bridgerton. Colin with his warm, wide smile and deep, dark eyes… eyes she had drowned in more times that she cared to count. His thick, brown hair had grown and now licked at the collar of his shirt. But otherwise, Colin had changed very little in the six months since she had last seen him - and indeed in the twelve years since they had met.

“Colin,” she began, still a little tongue tied from the brief kiss and, moreso, his entirely unexpected return, “But you were in Australia?”

“I decided to come home.”

“Clearly,” she mumbled, her head whirl. He always had that effect on her. His mere presence sent her stomach into knots and her head into a whirl and thinking clearly was almost impossible. “How wonderful,” she added.

She was dizzy. She felt a headache coming on. Actually, she felt just a little sick. Why was he back? Why? He was supposed to be gone for another five months. She should really have guessed that this might happen, Colin’s plans were always flexible and his adventures were subject to whatever whim or passion he was currently in the midst of. Still, it was unlike him to return from a trip early. It would have made more sense for him to spend those extra months exploring some other little corner of the world( and giving her the time she needed). Time for Penelope to make all the changes to her life that her carefully made plans had necessitated. Time for her to finally get over him. Severing her childish adoration for this man was the only way of moving forward with her life and just as she was about to make the great leap into the unknown… there he was. Same old Colin.

Damn, she was tired of loving him. Because the truth about loving Colin Bridgerton was that it was equal parts heaven and hell.

“Pen!” El shouted, breaking her reverie. “You phased out on me again.” Penelope gave a wan smile. “So what were you going to tell me before my idiot brother here interrupted us?”

“Oh,” she shrugged, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Lady Danbury, of course, had planned her event to perfection. A string quartet greeted visitors in the large, marble lined vestibule of Danbury Hall and uniformed wait staff meandered around the milling guests carrying shining silver platters of champagne and fancy-looking canapes. As the trio arrived, friends of Colin’s surrounded the siblings and welcomed their friend home. Colin had always been extremely popular. Between his good nature, sense of humour and ability to make whomsoever he conversed with feel important and noticed, he has managed to forge friendships with almost every inhabitant of Grosvenor.

Seeing an exit, Penelope grabbed a flute of champagne from the first passing server and managed to sink down half of it in one swift gulp as she headed towards the large ornamental garden that was accessed from the house’s terrace. She needed a moment. She needed air. She needed to think.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be thousands of miles away.

She really had convinced herself that she was growing out of her feelings from him. It was quite ridiculous. It had been over TWELVE years. She’d mooned over him all through her teens and twenties, both cursing and thanking her friendship with Eloise for placing them in such close conspiracy. Being close to him and watching him over the years had only deepened her feelings whilst simultaneously feeding a torturous sense of insecurity. It was a curse. Any man she met was instantly compared with Colin. Was he as kind as Colin? Was he as generous as Colin? Did he make her laugh like Colin did? Did she dream of sinking her hands into his hair the way she did with Colin? Would he kiss like Colin... The list was endless.

Admittedly, the few fleeting relationships she had found herself in over the years had little longevity in them on their own merit. If a man showed an interest in her she was flattered - and flattery led her to trying to like them too. But no matter how much she tried, it was impossible to force attraction, or even friendship, and spending an evening with any of them was a close second to a glass of wine and a good book. So almost permanently single, she’d hidden her feelings under the guise of a bright demeanor and focused herself on building a career and becoming more than a woman driven by her emotions. Well, she had tried.

Tried and failed miserably as proven by her visceral reaction to his presence that evening. Who was she kidding? The only way to finally free herself from this madness was to take herself out of the equation. Physically.

With a sigh, she downed the rest of her glass and left it on a little decorative iron table that edged the patio. There was little use in ruining the evening by letting herself sink into a mood. Tonight he was here and there was little she could do about it.

Colin was home. Jetlagged, overtired and not-quite sure exactly what the time was, but he was back in Grosvenor with his luggage already deposited in his childhood room at Aubrey Hall. As expected, nothing of any note had changed in Grosvenor in the half a year he had spent travelling across Australia. It never did actually. Not during his tour of Europe, his kayak trip down the Amazon nor those six months spent trekking in India. There was something comforting about that. Home was always home. With very little change to have to acquaint oneself with when returning after a prolonged absence.

Except… Well… She looked different. Penelope did. No, that wasn’t right. Penelope was the same as always. Pen was always there when he came back: she was dependable, as much a part of home as his mother’s Sunday lunches or the broken clock at the town hall - and inevitably joined at the hip with his sister Eloise. But something was different this time.

When he’d seen her across the street, he’d stalked up to her as he often liked to, picking her up and spinning her around - it was an old trick that had started so long ago he’d forgotten exactly how or why. Yet this time he didn’t just feel the sense of enjoyment in making his friend laugh, as he picked her up he had immediately noticed the curve of her hips and the brush of her breasts against his arm. Startled, he had let go, only for her to turn to him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and- well -it was different. He’d always known Penelope was a woman, but tonight for some reason, he knew.

While he had been awake for over 30 hours (thanks to a delightful assortment of caffeinated beverages), he could not blame the tightening in his gut and the moment of breathlessness he felt in that brief moment on sheer exhaustion. In fact, he’d felt a rush of adrenaline and a kick of excitement, as if he had just discovered something new. Something that no one else knew. It was… unsettling. But not exactly in a negative way.

Puzzled and curious, Colin made light work of greeting those old friends who didn’t yet know he had returned and then left Eloise to be grilled by their sister Daphne and her husband Simon about just when she planned on moving out of Aubrey Hall. He slipped away quietly. The simple solution to his confusion was to go and talk with Penelope as he normally would. Surely that would settle whatever had affected him so much. He needed to have a nice, normal conversation with her. It was understandable, he supposed, for friendships to be a little strange after such a time. It hadn’t happened before between them, but still...

It was in the garden that he found her. The evening was still light, the sun turning a hazy orange behind the springtime clouds. He’d left Australia as the summer was turning to autumn and here he was about to experience summer yet again. The idea made him smile. Summer was always his favourite time of year. It seemed filled with so much promise - the days were long, the weather fine and even the gloomiest of souls could not retain their negativity when faced with an English summer’s day.

“Pen,” he said as he approached where she stood at the edge of the ornamental gardens. In one hand, she had a full flute of champagne and in the other an impossibly sized canape. She seemed to be studying the canape and deciding how best to approach it’s consumption - not easy when it took the form of an oversized base of puffed pastry topped with a heavy dollop of cream cheese and an artful sprinkling of caviar (Colin had always appreciated good food). Her eyes met his and she smiled, perhaps a little self consciously.

“Colin, I thought you were enjoying a hero’s welcome.”

He smirked a little, “I should hardly think my travels are an accomplishment. Indeed, mother sees them as somewhat the opposite.” His mother was actually very supportive of her son’s desire to see more of the world, but she had mentioned many times how perhaps spending every penny he earned on the endeavour was not the best forward planning. A large part of him knew she was right. The transient lifestyle he had lived for so long was starting to wear on him if truth were told. Not that the urge to discover new places would ever leave him, but perhaps the way it manifested in his life needed to change. More to think on later, he supposed. “Anyway, I’m reliably informed that my mother is planning a welcome home and belated birthday party very soon. My loyal fans can fawn over me then,” he teased

“Oh,” Penelope gasped, “Your birthday was last month - I didn’t exactly forget I just - well, with all the travelling I didn’t even know where to send you a card. Here,” she said pushing the canape in his direction, “A present. I’m sure you are starving.”

“Oh no no no,” he chuckled, pushing her hand back. “I could not possibly deny you the pleasure of… that.”

Penelope frowned as she glanced at the oversized canape. Really, Colin was being a little cruel. Even he, who had never been accused of being small of mouth, would struggle to eat that with some semblance of dignity. But Penelope’s pouting pink lips were perfectly proportioned for her petite heart shaped face, forming a flawless pout as she considered the clearly impossible challenge. Colin, for his part, was seriously contemplating the lush fullness of her bottom lip until Penelope let out a deep sigh, opening her mouth wide and pushing the entirety of it inside. Colin sucked in a quick breath. As she chewed a drizzle of cream spread across her lip and he watched, hypnotised, as her tongue slipped out and cleared it away. There was something startlingly erotic in the moment and he found himself transfixed. Their eyes met as her jaw worked, the silence between them somehow startlingly loud, even as the sound of the party increased behind them in the house. Not breaking the eye contact, Penelope took a long sip of her champagne. “Done,’ she murmured softly.

The edges of his lips curled as he reached forward and brushed a crumb of pastry from her petal soft cheek. “Was it enjoyable?” he asked quietly.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

And, hell, he had enjoyed it too.

‘Well then, I’d say I’m rather jealous.” He was overcome with a sudden urge to kiss her. He wanted to step closer to her, wrap his hands around the devastating curve of her hips, press his body to hers so those lush breastswere flush against his chest and then he would taste those maddeningly erotic lips. The idea pulsed through him. She was staring. Her blue eyes widening. He reached for the glass in her hands, intending to set it down-

Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.

The moment was broken by the vibrations of a mobile phone. It took Pen a few seconds to acknowledge it was hers, a confused look crossing her face until she fished the device from her jeans pocket.

“Pen? PEN? Where are you?” Eloise’s voice bellowed down the line.

“Eloise,” she mouthed to him, though he had no trouble hearing his sister, who was never known for her subtilty. “You need to get here. Daphne is PREGNANT!”

“Oh,” Pen smiled, looking back at him. “I think we should head back to the others.”

Wordlessly he nodded. His sister - for whom motherhood had always been so important - announcing her first pregnancy, was certainly something he wanted to be there for. “C’mon,” he whispered, holding out his arm, “Time to play proud big brother.”

Further exploration of his newfound fascination with Penelope Featherington’s lips would have to wait.

Hours later...

The world was silent when they reached her cottage. An intrepid white cat darted across the street as a gust of wind rustled the branches of the small oak tree that dominated the garden of Penelope’s cottage. Despite the light chill to the air, she was wearing a warm coat of alcohol, her cheeks glowing as they always did when she had drunk champagne. Pleasantly tipsy, she leaned into Colin, his warmth comforting against her side as she fumbled in her pocket for her key.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she opened the half gate that breached the stone wall around her home “But you really didn’t have to walk me all the way home. I’m a big girl, you know.” There was a double meaning to her words; yes she wasn’t exactly young, but she also wasn’t exactly small in size - the phrase ‘curves in abundance’ could have been written just for her, she had thought on more than one occasion.

“It was my pleasure,” Colin replied, “It was a fine excuse to leave before the revels became too tiring- you know these things can go on until morning and I already feel like I could sleep for a year.” With that, he yawned and ran a hand through his hair. Pen watched those lightly tanned fingers come through the dark chestnut locks and swallowed down a sigh.

“Well,” she nodded, “I’d say that it’s time to say goodnight.” For a second, she fidgeted, her keys jangling on her finger. Impulsively, she reached out her hand and immediately felt ridiculously awkward. She and Colin did not shake hands. She didn’t shake hands with anyone. Ever. She cleared her throat and felt her cheeks deepen in colour. Oh god. After their strange moment in the garden, things had felt almost normal between them as they congratulated Daphne and Simon and then passed the rest of the evening hearing stories from Colin’s travels and bringing him up to date with the (somewhat limited) local gossip he had missed. And so when he had insisted on walking her home, she hadn’t been overly wary. Yet now… now they were alone on her quiet street and he was staring at her so oddly that she was actually finding it difficult to breathe-

“Good night,” he said softly, reaching down to bring her into a hug. It was a beautiful, warm embrace, her face almost nestling against his neck so that she could enjoy his musky, soft cologne. This was nice. This was safe. Friends hugged.

She made to pull away, but he only loosened his grip a small amount. Looking up he was so very close. His dark, velvet eyes fixed upon hers. “Pen…” he whispered, a look of concentration upon his face. She tried to wriggle gently free of his arms, his close inspection feeling uncomfortable and somehow searing.

And then he kissed her. Just like that.

His lips were against hers, his hands slipped up her back, his mouth suddenly urgent and wonderful and if Penelope could have imagined his kiss a thousand times she could not have imagined this. He pressed her back against the door, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a satisfied groan. Her hands, which had been limp around his neck, surged into his thick locks, the satin strands feeling obscenely good between her fingers. He pushed his hips forward, anchoring her in place, his mouth tracing her jaw and then her neck, one hand racing down to cup her buttocks and squeeze just hard enough to make her gasp in surprise.

Colin Bridgerton was kissing her.

Colin was kissing her.

Colin.

Suddenly, she froze, pushing against his shoulders. “Are you drunk?” she panted.

“No,” he frowned, “Are you?”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. And, oh she was thankful that she would remember every moment of this...

Without her noticing, Colin had taken the key and opened the door behind her. Quickly, they fell inside. Their arms instantly back around each other and the kiss resumed and it was intoxicating. It was magnetic. It was drugging… Penelope had never been kissed like this before.

Colin was nibbling at her neck and pulling her shirt out from her jeans. She dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his shoulders and felt herself being swept away.

“Wait-”

He paused and looked up.

Penelope took a step backwards. This had to stop. It was madness. “I-I can’t do this right now. I-”

His face creased in confusion. “Pen?”

She began pushing her shirt back into her jeans. “I need to think. I need to sleep. I-” She sighed and pursed her lips. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t believe what she was doing.

He responded with a small nod and a whispered, “Okay.” He reached back and placed his hand on the doorknob, before adding, “Later?’

And Penelope tried to smile.

Colin left, the door closing softly, followed by the clip of footsteps and the creak of her gate. Quickly, she locked the door and then stared at it.

And then Penelope Featherington started to cry.

Oh god, what the hell just happened?

To Be Continued...

#bridgerton #bridgerton ff #bridgerton fanfiction #Colin Bridgerton #Penelope Featherington #penelope x colin

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Breakable Heaven (pt. II) - p.l. dubois

Part I

Part two is here! Things start to heat up in this chapter, exciting stuff’s happening! I hope you guys like reading it as much as I’m loving writing - please slide into my inbox, let me know what you think! Reblogs are amazing too, it’s how we know people are liking what we’re putting out and helps to reach more people! (Plus it’s one of the joys of my life to read the tags. Seriously, so much fun.)

Part II (7.2k)

June 18 (fri)

“If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to sell it,” Laurel said, running a hand through her hair. “The fewer people who know the truth, the better.”

Pierre nodded. “Agreed.” He sat back in his chair. “What do you think your parents will say?”

Laurel laughed. “Uh, they think I’m seeing someone, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “it was easier to just say I had a boyfriend than deal with their endless pestering, you know?”

“So they’d buy it if you just told them you were getting married?”

She shrugged. “I think so. You know we’re not particularly close, they haven’t met any of my boyfriends since I was in high school. So if I told them I was engaged, I don’t think they’d bat an eye, if I’m honest.” Pierre could sense there was more to the story, more that she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t want to press. “What about yours?” she asked.

“Well, we’ve got a couple options,” Pierre said, cracking a smile and leaning back into the cushions. “It was a drunken mistake.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Then they’d just tell us to get a divorce.”

“We fell in love after the first date.”

“Even less believable,” Laurel said, the corner of her lip twitching.

“Or…,” Pierre said, kicking his feet up on the ottoman, a wicked grin on his face, “I got you pregnant and want to do the right thing.”

Laurel snorted. “Little issue there.”

“What?”

“I’m not pregnant.”

Pierre ducked his head, blushing. “Right. There’s that.”

She nodded. “There’s that.” She tapped her fingers on the coffee table. “I’ve got it.” Pierre looked up. “We’ve been friends for a long time, couple years or something. Madeline went to York, so we met when you and Patrice came to visit. We realized we had feelings for each other a few months ago, everything moved super quickly since we already knew each other and had that foundation.”

“So we thought ‘why wait,’” Pierre finished.

“Exactly,” Laurel said. “Why wait, if we already knew.”

“It’s a classic friends-to-lovers story, a tale as old as time,” he sighed wistfully.

Laurel slapped his shoulder. “This is serious,” she said, but she was smiling all the same. “Okay, so we’ve at least got that worked out. Madeline and Patrice will obviously know, but other than that…” She trailed off.

He nodded, and an understanding passed between them. “It’s a need-to-know basis.”

“It is.” Laurel shifted her laptop on the coffee table, squeezing closer to Pierre so he could see the screen. “So, we have to go down to the courthouse for a meeting with the court clerk who will perform the ceremony, bring birth certificates and ID, and —”

He glanced over at Laurel, her tongue caught between her teeth. “And?”

“You have to publish a declaration of intent to marry twenty days before the wedding. Online. In public.”

Pierre looked oblivious. “So?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “So, it has the date of the wedding and our full names and our whole entire addresses. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re kind of a professional hockey player.”

He shrugged. “All due respect, Laurel, but,” he glanced at the website, “who actually checks these things?” He had a point there, she thought, but she wasn’t about to let him win.

“But your address, you’re not worried about that getting out there?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. “But my building’s got a receptionist and I’ve got locks on my doors. And plus,” Pierre added, “I’ve really never had much of a problem flying under the radar here. When I go back home, back to the suburbs, sure. And a little bit in Columbus, obviously. But there’s what, two million people in Montréal? I’m not on the Habs, so even the hockey fans here really couldn’t care less.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. Also, uh, living situation. We should probably talk about that.”

“You’re moving in with me?” He said it like a question, but not as if it was something that would surprise him, or something he was opposed to. He said it like it was something he already knew the answer to. “I’ve got three rooms, plenty of space, Phil and Georgia would love to have a new sister. You and Piper would fit right in,” he said, reaching down to scratch her behind the ears. “Plus it’s got a great gym in the lobby, you can cancel your membership to that seedy place downtown with that trainer who always stares at you when you do weights.” Laurel’s ears perked up; she was surprised he remembered. She did have a gym downtown that she tried to make it to a few times a week, and there was that one creepy trainer, but she had only mentioned it to him once in passing. “Plus it has hot yoga once a week, and I know you’ve been dying to try.” That much was true.

“At least let me help pay for rent,” she tried to bargain.

“Nope!” he said, wincing a second later. “I didn’t mean it in like a patronizing way, I know you’re perfectly capable of pulling your own weight. I meant like I bought it outright, so there’s no rent to be paid. I’ll let you pay the electricity bill if you want?”

Laurel grinned. “That would make me feel better, thank you.” After looking at her computer for a minute, she spoke again. “How long have you had the apartment for?”

Pierre scratched his chin. “Couple years? I bought it after signing the contract this year. Some guys buy a Lamborghini, I bought an apartment. I don’t own the place in Columbus though.”

“How come?” Laurel asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“Even with the contract, so much is up in the air. I could get traded in the middle of the season, or in the summer or whenever, and I don’t want to have just bought a house when I’ve got to move to Vancouver or wherever when the ink hasn’t even dried on the papers.”

This time, it was Laurel’s turn to leave with an unsaid question. “Is tomorrow good? To go down and get everything squared away at the courthouse?”

He bobbed his head. “Yeah, I’ve got some off-ice training in the morning, but any time after noon or so is good for me.”

Laurel nodded, making a few taps on her computer. “Okay, I’ve got us booked in at one, that good?”

“Yeah,” Pierre said, nodding in affirmation. “Now I’ve got to come up with an excuse to drive to my parents’ and get my birth certificate.”

---

It didn’t actually turn out to be all that difficult for Pierre; he made the drive back to Saint-Agathe-des-Monts later that afternoon, telling his parents he needed it to renew his health insurance card. He wasn’t sure they actually believed him, but his mom didn’t bat an eye before handing it over. Pierre spent the rest of the evening at home, cooking pasta, petting the dogs, and wondering what in the hell he had agreed to. He wasn’t second-guessing himself, not by a long-shot, but when she clicked that button to book their appointment, the gravity of the situation finally started to hit him. In less than a month, he was going to be getting married.

June 19 (sat)

Laurel met Pierre on the steps of the Montréal courthouse at a quarter to one the next day, clutching the straps of her tote like a lifeline. “Woah, Laurel, you’re holding that like you’ve got a bomb in there,” Pierre said.

She flashed him a nervous smile. “No bomb, just very official very legal documents. Don’t want to lose it.”

He held out his hand. “You ready?”

Laurel was surprised at the gesture. Not shocked that he was being kind, but that he was cognizant enough to recognize that she was nervous, and wanted to do something about it. She took his hand. “Ready.”

It only took a minute to find the office, and a few more before the receptionist called them back to the clerk’s office. She introduced herself as Juliette Bergeron, congratulated them on their engagement, and asked to see the paperwork. Passports and birth certificates were handed over, signatures were signed on dotted lines, and half an hour later, they walked out of the courthouse with an appointment for a wedding on July 10.

“Well, there’s that crossed off the checklist,” Laurel said, leaning up against the handrails as they stood on the courthouse steps. They had actually made a real checklist, a series of tasks on a shared Notes page of everything that needed to be completed before the wedding. Book the ceremony and post the public notice were done, but there were still a dozen-odd tasks left before they actually could get married. Starting with telling their parents. While they had developed as airtight a cover story as she supposed one could when they were committing what would charitably be referred to as citizenship fraud, they had agreed it was going to be far less messy to “come clean” as fiancés than after the wedding. Laurel had wanted to text them the news, or call so early they’d still be asleep and she could just avoid the conversation altogether, but Pierre had convinced her to FaceTime. “I know you guys aren’t super close, but I think they deserve that much, Laurel,” he had said, and he was right. Deep down, she knew he was right.

“Ready?” Pierre asked, rubbing her back soothingly.

Laurel flashed him a tight smile before pressing her mom’s contact. “As I’ll ever be.” Three agonizingly long rings later, her mom picked up.

“Laurel? What are you doing calling, honey? Is everything okay?”

She let out a nervous giggle. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call my parents?”

“No,” Cheryl clucked, “but to be fair, you don’t call often.”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck in discomfort. “That’s true. Uh, anyways, is dad there?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” her mom said, starting to catch onto the fact that maybe this wasn’t quite your run-of-the-mill check-in call. “What’s this all about, pumpkin?”

The old term of endearment, one she hadn’t heard in years, brought tears to the corners of her eyes. “Can you call him in? I’d rather tell you both at the same time.”

Cheryl nodded, worry crossing her brow. “Doug? Laurel’s on the phone, she’s got something to tell us. Sounds important.”

“Coming,” Laurel heard her dad say in the background. A moment later, he padded into view. “Hey, Laurel, Mom said you’ve got some news?”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, just something I thought you guys should know. It’s not bad, you’re just going to be surprised, so I need you to keep an open mind, okay?”

“Who is he?” Doug asked, rubbing his forehead with an exasperated expression.

She blanched. “He? Who’s he?” There’s no way he guessed...right?

“The jackass who got you pregnant, who else?”

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “Pregnant? Who said I’m pregnant? I’m not pregnant!”

Both of her parents let out an audible sigh of relief. “Well, Laurel, what conclusion did you expect us to jump to when you called us out of the blue and said you had important news?”

Laurel bit her lip; they had a point. “Fair. But, uh, rest assured, I’m not pregnant. I’m smarter than that.” She paused, steeling her nerves. “Remember that guy I told you I was seeing a few months ago?”

Her mom squinted like she was looking into the sun. “Vaguely? You didn’t really tell us much about him. Just that he was tall, nice, you met through friends.” It was a believable enough explanation back then, and Laurel was beyond grateful it dovetailed perfectly into the story she and Pierre had conjured up. “You didn’t even tell us his name.”

Laurel reached out her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the phone, and made a grabby motion for his hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Well, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois—”

Doug interrupted. “Very French.”

She grimaced. “I do live in Québec, Dad. But anyways, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois and we’re getting married.”

They sat still on the other end of the call, so still that if it weren’t for her mom’s rapid blinking she would have thought the call had been dropped. “Married?” her mom asked softly.

“Yes, married.”

“How long have you even been seeing each other?” Doug asked, dumbfounded.

“A little under six months. I know it’s not long, and I know it seems sudden, but we’ve known each other for a long time, you know? We met when I was still back in Toronto at university, Madeline introduced us.” Her parents nodded; Madeline, they knew. Madeline, they had met. Madeline, they trusted. “And we finally realized a little bit after New Year’s that we had feelings for each other, and it’s sort of been zero to a hundred ever since. We thought, if we knew we loved each other and we knew we were done looking, then what was the point of waiting for a year or two for it to be a ‘socially acceptable’ time to get married.” Laurel finished.

Cheryl wrapped her hands around her mug of tea, eyelids still shooting rapid-fire blinks at the screen. “But, Laurel, we haven’t even met this boy, we barely know anything about him!”

Pierre squeezed her hand. “Actually, he’s just off-camera. Want to say hi, P?”

He walked into view, waving politely at the screen. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Klerken, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Laurel’s had nothing but wonderful things to say.” A little flattery never hurt anybody, he thought.

“Lovely to meet you, Pierre-Luc,” Cheryl said. “Forgive us if we’re still a little shocked, Laurel’s not normally one to spring things on us like this.”

He laughed. “Perfectly fair. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet until now, but we’ve been trying to get used to the idea ourselves.”

Her dad leaned forward from his spot in the couch, giving Pierre as much of a once-over as he could from nearly 1500 miles away. “I’m not able to give you the normal talking-to I have with any of the other boys Laurel or Maggie have introduced us to, so this is going to have to do.” Maggie? Laurel had primed Pierre for the inevitable grilling, telling him that if it was anything like it had been in the past, it would be all bark and no bite. “So what do you do for work, Pierre-Luc?”

“I’m a professional hockey player in the NHL, I play for the Columbus Blue Jackets.”

Doug’s eyebrows went up. As much of a front as he tried to put up, he was still a middle-aged man from Minnesota, and there were few things that impressed middle-aged men from Minnesota more than their daughters being suddenly engaged to NHL players. “NHL, huh? That’s very impressive. So you’re from Québec, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Pierre answered. “My hometown’s a little outside of the city, but I live in Montréal now. My mom’s from Georgia, though, so I’ve got dual citizenship and some family still down there.”

Her parents didn’t take too kindly to the news that the wedding was in three weeks, since it was too tight a fit to be able to get time off, but promised to visit later in the summer to make a proper introduction to their new son-in-law. Her father continued to pepper him with questions about his hobbies, family, and how he takes his steak — according to the Doug Klerken rules, any man who orders anything above medium is not to be trusted — until Laurel mercifully cut him off, telling her parents they were late to meet up with some friends. “That wasn’t so bad,” Pierre said as Laurel slipped her phone into her purse, immediately plugging it into her portable charger as the FaceTime had drained all but 18% of her battery.

Laurel made a face. “They’re good people and they care about me, but…” She trailed off. “They never really understood why I’d want anything more than I was given. Anything more than the status quo. And it’s just caused a lot of friction between us.” Her eyes flashed as she remembered something. “One more thing.” Pierre’s ears perked up. “If and when you ever talk to my parents again, just...don’t bring up politics.” Laurel grimaced.

“Republicans?” he asked sympathetically.

She nodded. “Trump-supporting Republicans. It’s another one of the reasons we don’t talk much anymore. I’m liberal, I’d probably be NDP if I could vote here, and we just don’t share the same values on a lot of things.”

“That’s got to be pretty rough on you,” Pierre said.

“Yeah,” Laurel admitted. “Probably more than I want to let on, but I think it helps that I’m able to get some distance.”

Pierre took a deep breath in. “Your, uh, your dad mentioned something that I wanted to ask you about.”

Shit. Laurel had been able to avoid the conversation for long enough, but she was beginning to push her luck, and she couldn’t run forever. “Maggie?”

He nodded. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I thought I should ask.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Laurel said. “Um, long story short, Maggie’s my sister. It’s July, so…” she did the mental math in her head, “she’d be almost 31. Total free spirit. She left town pretty soon after she graduated, came back every so often but not nearly enough. Last I heard, she was an au pair in Italy.”

“And when was that?”

“Two years ago.” Pierre figured that was as good a time as any to drop the subject, so he did. They had decided that, while they were still downtown, it would be a good opportunity to get the ring shopping out of the way. Pierre looked up the highest-rated jewelry store on Yelp, and they set off on foot.

Pierre opened the door for her as they stepped inside, greeted by a slightly over-enthusiastic salesman. “You paid for the ceremony fee, so I’m paying for the rings, okay?”

Laurel scoffed. “Hardly a fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I’ll live,” he said, smirking.

Laurel had been wandering around by the solitaires for a few minutes when Pierre walked up behind her. “I know this isn’t going to be the wedding you’ve always dreamed of,” Pierre said, “but we’re going to make it the best we can.” He looked down at the cases, Laurel’s fingers dancing over the edge of the glass cover. “When you were in high school, or university, did you ever think about what kind of wedding you wanted?” Laurel gave a small nod. “And what kind of ring did you have?”

“I’ve always liked halo cuts,” she said softly.

Pierre inched his hand towards hers, wrapping his fingers around hers. They tensed for a second, but then relaxed into his grip. “Then let’s go get you that halo cut.”

There was no one else in the store aside from the salesman, so the couple was enveloped in a comfortable silence as they browsed. Her eyes stopped on a beautiful floral halo ring with an oval diamond. Pierre nodded to the salesman, who carefully took it off of its stand and handed it to Pierre, who carefully wiggled it onto Laurel’s fourth finger. If she closed her eyes, she was almost able to pretend that it was a proposal. Laurel brought her thumb to the ring, delicately running it over the pavé band with the ghost of a smile on her face. “What do you think?” Pierre asked, as if he couldn’t already tell her answer from the look on her face.

Laurel looked up at him. “I love it. It fits perfectly.”

“Like Cinderella’s slipper.” He turned to the salesman. “Combien ça coûte?” (How much does it cost?) Laurel heard a number that made her swallow hard, more than anything she’d ever have bought for herself, but Pierre insisted it was a non-issue as he handed his card over. “He said that they’ve got another sample one in the back, and you’re welcome to just wear that one out if it fits.”

“Sounds good.” The salesman handed over the bag with Pierre’s ring and her matching wedding band, thanking them for their purchase before opening the door back into the sunny Montréal afternoon. Laurel craned her neck to try and sneak a peek inside the bag. “Don’t I get to see yours?”

Pierre cracked a wry grin. “Gotta wait until the wedding, babe. Can’t a man have a little mystery?”

“Fair enough,” Laurel said, not missing his use of the pet name but brushing it off as simply a spur-of-the-moment choice. “Do you want to do the honors?” she asked, referring to the all-important checklist.

Pierre opened his phone with his spare hand, deftly navigating to the app and tapping twice. “Four down, seven to go. We’re on a roll.

June 24 (thurs)

Surprisingly, telling Pierre-Luc’s parents hadn’t been nearly as intimidating as breaking the news to her own, at least for Laurel. They were shocked — and confused, and had a lot of questions — but were welcoming nonetheless. Patrice was almost like a second son to them, and the fact that she already came with his stamp of approval went a long way into calming them down. “He’s always been quite the romantic, the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. And he cares deeply about the people in his life. That’s you, now,” his mom had said. They drove up to meet them that Sunday, having brunch in his childhood home. That was, in essence, their first real “test” as a couple. They had never had to sell their relationship to anyone before; even when going out with Madeline and Patrice after their “engagement,” nothing ever seemed like it had changed. This time was different. This time had to be different.

His mom fawned over her engagement ring, asking her to spare no details in retelling the story of the proposal. Lucky for her, however, Laurel was the former president of the University of Toronto improv club, and coming up with background stories with exactly zero minutes to prepare was something of a specialty for her. Laurel immediately gushed about how unexpected it was; she was just expecting an evening walk through downtown until they turned down one of the piers by the basilica, reached the end overlooking the river, and Pierre dropped down on one knee. “I think I knew that he was the one way sooner than that, but it’s nice to finally have it be official,” she had said.

Laurel shook herself out of her memories, turning the door into the locker room. She grabbed a pair of scrubs out of her shared locker — she had never met Alice, the other nurse who used it, but they had made a habit of leaving each other Post-it note greetings — and stripped off her t-shirt and jeans. Shimmying on her scrub pants, she tied them, leaning back into the locker to get her bag as the door shut behind her. She glanced over to the door, waving to Claire. Claire was sweet, a transplant from Vancouver who had lived in Québec as a child and decided to come back to work. She was sweet, having just started working at the beginning of the summer, but she was young, even younger than Laurel. And while her perky and energetic nature lent itself well to the dynamics of the floor, it was a lot for her to get used to. “Hey!” Laurel said, waving as she pulled a chain out of her purse, trying to discreetly unhook it.

“Hey!” Claire responded, perky as ever. “How has your week been?” She worked Mondays and Thursdays with Laurel, but had the Saturday night shift as well.

Laurel threw her hair up into a bun. “Good, good, busy. Met up with some friends yesterday, so that was nice, but not much. Took Piper to the dog park.” With my fiancé, she neglected to add. She twisted her ring off, trying to slip it onto the chain without Claire noticing. Like most of her married colleagues, Laurel had taken to wearing her engagement ring on a chain around her neck while at work instead of on her finger. It was under her scrubs most of the time, keeping at bay the questions she wasn’t yet ready to answer, and made it much easier to pull on and off gloves when the occasion called for it. But Claire was eagle-eyed, catching the sparkle of the diamond just as she slid it onto the chain.

She audibly gasped. “Is that an engagement ring?”

Laurel had to think fast; once again, her improv skills were called up to bat. “No? It’s, uh, it’s a family heirloom, it was my grandma’s. Guess I didn’t think too much about which finger I put it on.” She could tell Claire didn’t quite believe her side of the story, but thankfully, she didn’t press.

“If you say so,” she said, giving a not-so-subtle wink.

June 27 (sun)

Laurel was sat in her living room, her TV on in the background as she scrolled absent-mindedly through her phone, savoring her last few hours before she had to go to bed for her 5:30 wake-up call. On a whim, she opened her Twitter. It wasn’t an app she used all that often — mostly just to keep in contact with the handful of high school and college friends who didn’t use Instagram — and she was well aware that she’d probably have to limit her use for her own sanity when she and Pierre went “public” after the wedding, but she liked being able to keep up with everyone. She followed her friends, a handful of celebrities and a few journalists, but her timeline wasn’t flooded with updates. Then she saw the little blue alert on the bottom. One new message. Clicking to her inbox, Laurel saw that it had been sent by Madeline four minutes earlier, a link to a tweet that just had the caption: “you should probably see this.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Laurel pressed the link. What could be so important that Madeline would have sent a message with that kind of urgency? And why didn’t she just text it? God, I hate puckbunny blogs, Laurel thought as she read the handle. Her eyes raced across the screen. So I was looking up the address of my friend’s wedding earlier since I lost my invitation and didn’t want to tell her, and saw this under??? I know he can be a private guy, but tell me you guys don’t think this is for PLD. Her eyes froze as soon as she finished reading, praying that somehow they were talking about a different PLD, that they hadn’t been found out and their cover hadn’t been blown and she wasn’t about to have a panic attack for the first time since junior year — and then she saw the screenshot. Of their wedding announcement. Their public wedding announcement that not only had their full names and places of birth, but the location of the ceremony, the time, and their addresses. God, this is exactly what Laurel had been worried about. She immediately reported the tweet for exposing personal information, then made the poor decision to look at the comments section. Some people insisted it was legitimate, some convinced it was just photoshop, some were convinced that it couldn’t be Pierre-Luc even it looked like him, because he was training in Columbus for the summer, right? Thank God, it didn’t seem like anyone had done a deep enough dive to figure out who she was; there weren’t any screenshots of her accounts or photos of her in the comments section. It was eight minutes from the time she reported it to when it was taken down, and while Laurel was grateful for the quick response, she felt like she was on a cliffside, one foot off of the edge, until it had been deleted.

Her phone lit up with a text notification from Pierre. Funny thing happened today.

Oh God, Laurel thought. Had he seen it? He hadn’t.

My mom asked what you were planning to do about flowers and got very upset when I said we didn’t have any plans. She let out a tense breath. Flowers, she could do. She wanted to get your number to send over the names of a few florists she knows in the area, but I thought I should check with you first to make sure that’s okay.

Laurel smiled, her right hand draped over the side of the couch to scratch Piper behind the ears. That sounds great, P.

As promised, his mom texted Laurel soon after, coming armed with recommendations of Montréal florists. She echoed her son’s words almost identically; You deserve to have the wedding you’ve always dreamed of even if the circumstances are different, she had written. Her eyes pricked with tears as she fell asleep.

July 3 (sun)

It was a week before the wedding, and Laurel had started to pack up her apartment. It seemed much more practical to do it in stages then try to finish everything the weekend of the wedding. So she sat with Pierre on the floor of her bedroom, moving boxes between them as they packed away into the next season of her life. Some things, she obviously couldn’t put away yet — she still needed clothes and toothpaste, and they hadn’t been able to get all of her pots and pans down to the Goodwill yet. But books and keepsakes could be boxed up, and unless there was a snowstorm in July, she didn’t need her parka either.

“Oh, what’s this?” Pierre asked as he pulled a few more volumes off of her bookshelf. Laurel groaned when she saw what was in his hand.

“The 2013 Cloquet Senior High School yearbook. My sophomore year.”

He burst out laughing. “This, I’ve got to see.” He opened the cover. “Your mascot was the Lumberjacks?”

Laurel ducked her head, her cheeks heating. “Regrettably, yes. That’s what happens when your whole area used to be milling towns.”

Pierre’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said everything was about the mines, doesn’t your dad work in the mines?”

“He does,” Laurel said. “They had to figure out something to do after all of the trees had been cut down, you know?”

Pierre got the feeling it was really more of a rhetorical question. “What was your school like?”

She placed one of her old Harry Potter books into the box. “Small is the first word that comes to mind. My graduating class couldn’t have been much bigger than 150 or so? We’d get snow days a couple of times a year, most of the time if it wasn’t a blizzard everyone would end up going down to the school anyways, we’d all have big snowball fights on the football field. Actually,” she said, pulling out her phone from her back pocket, “I think I might still have a clip of one.” She pulled up her videos, scooting over to Pierre and leaning into his side so he could see the screen. Raucous laughter filtered through the speakers; the only things in sight were snow forts and the tiniest bits of beanies peeking over the top.

“THIS. IS. WAR!”

Laurel snickered. “I think that sounds like Nicholas, he was the varsity quarterback for a few years. Usually was the one leading the sieges.” She put her phone away a minute later after the clip ended. “But other than that? There were actually a lot of pretty interesting elective classes, I got to take photography, work in the preschool on campus, take a class on Anishinaabe studies.”

“Anishinaabe?” Pierre questioned.

“There’s a Native American reservation in town, the tribe’s Ojibwe so that’s the language family we studied. A lot of kids at the school, including one of my best friends Kristen, live on the reservation, so I think they wanted to not only have the class available for Native students who maybe wanted to learn more about their culture, but also for non-Native kids like me, so we’re able to gain a respect for whose land we’re living on,” Laurel explained.

“Makes sense,” he said, flipping through the pages. He snorted. “This photo might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Laurel peeked over his shoulder, cringing at her school picture. “I really couldn’t have dressed any more 2012 if I tried, Pierre. Aggressively off-the-shoulder top, one of those godforsaken hair feathers, I bet you’d find dark wash skinny jeans if you could see from the waist down.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my fiancée like that,” Pierre said. “I like the look, I swear. You were such a cute kid, oh my God.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. What happened to me, right?”

He looked at her from the side. “Nope.”

June 9 (fri)

It was the day before the wedding, and Laurel was trying to find a dress. She had been planning on wearing one — even if it was a courthouse wedding, she still wanted to look nice — but then she had spilled red wine onto the light blue one she had been thinking of wearing as she ironed it in the living room, and she didn’t want to put all of her eggs in one basket if the Oxiclean didn’t end up working. She called Madeline in a panic, who promised to be over as soon as she could with a few dresses of her own to see what she could do. There was a knock on the door, and Laurel practically flew across the room to fling it open, gathering Madeline in a hug even before she had crossed the threshold. Madeline patted her clumsily on the back. “There, there, Laur. It’s going to be okay, we’re going to fix it.”

Laurel ran one hand through her hair, her curls as frazzled as her mind. “It’s got to be. Half of my stuff’s already over at P’s place, what, do you want me to wear a,” she opened up her dresser, eyeing its meager contents, “bralette and lacy thong to my own wedding?”

Madeline shrugged. “I doubt Pierre would mind,” she said casually.

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “What do you mean?”

“Men are visual creatures, and you’re hot as hell, Laurel,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Still,” Laurel said, opening her closet and grabbing every single left over dress from its hanger, trying to distract herself from Madeline’s words, “I’d rather not be arrested for public indecency. I’m trying to stay in the country, remember?”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “I remember.” She thumbed through the dresses on Laurel’s bed. “You’re not wearing a black dress to get married,” she said pointedly.

“It’s pretty?” Laurel tried to reason.

“It is, but it’s a wedding, not a funeral.” She moved onto the next one. “Bright red bodycon is great for the club, but not sure coquettish seductress is the look you’re going for.” The next one was a striped sweater dress; it was the middle of summer, so according to Madeline, that meant it was out. There was a navy shift dress that “could work, but it’s a little too much work and not enough play,” her friend had said. Laurel tried on Madeline’s dresses, but seeing as how she had three inches on her, the hemlines weren’t exactly in her favor. Madeline pulled out the last of the stack, gasping softly. “This one’s beautiful, where’s it from?”

Madeline looked at it, a knee-length ivory lace dress, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Madeline. “It was for Aurélie’s bachelorette party last year, probably explains. You were drunk off your ass that night.”

“I’m hurt by that characterization, but I don’t remember enough to correct you,” Madeline said. “It’s perfect though, why didn’t you choose this one in the first place?”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure?” Madeline gave her a look. “Fine, it just seems...It seems too much like an actual wedding dress. It’s white, or close enough, anyways,” she noted, fingering one of the delicate straps, “and gorgeous, and formal, and I’m worried if I wear it it’ll seem too real, and I’ll start thinking this is more than it is. Because all it is at the end of the day is a friend doing me a really, really big favor,” she finished, huffing and falling back onto her mattress.

“At the end of the day, it’s still a wedding,” Madeline corrected, laying down next to her. “And you’re still a bride and he’s still a groom and you deserve to feel beautiful and cherished and special on your wedding day, no matter its circumstances. And who knows? Maybe you two stay married, and fall in love, and you live happily ever after with your half-dozen dogs and 2.5 kids on some farm out in the suburbs.”

Laurel snorted. “As if.” But two hours later, long after Madeline had already left, she sat back on the bed, hand ghosting over the lace of her now-wedding dress, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Madeline had a point.

June 10 (sat)

It was the morning of the wedding, and Laurel was pacing her room in her sweatpants, Piper looking at her in confusion from the doorway. It was just past 7 and the appointment wasn’t until 10, but she still had to get dressed and do her hair and makeup and pick up the flowers and eat and — her internal monologue was interrupted by the doorbell. Still half-asleep, she ambled over to the door, pulling it open without even really checking to see who it was.

“Surprise!!” Patrice shouted, walking through the door, followed by Madeline and Pierre. “Madeline mentioned that you seemed a bit overwhelmed yesterday, so we thought we’d come over and get ready over here!”

Laurel shuffled out of the way as Piper jumped on Pierre, who laughed and calmed her down with a few scratches on her chin. She had really taken a liking to him and his two dogs, which had initially been a point of nervousness for Laurel. But they got along great, shared space well, and she seemed to love her new brother and sister. “That’s really nice of you guys, I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “Um, I don’t have much food left because of the move, but I think there’s some cereal in the cupboard?”

“Silly you,” Pierre said, holding out a paper bag. “Did you think I’d leave my bride hungry on our wedding day? I got you sourdough french toast, should be on the top.” They had gone out to brunch once and she had ordered it, audibly moaning at how incredible it tasted. He remembered.

“And raspberry mochas!” Madeline said, presenting her with a cup.

Laurel took it, wrapping her spare arm around Madeline and kissing Pierre on the cheek. “This is incredible, guys. Really. I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“Exactly!” Madeline said, a perky expression on her face. “It’s a surprise!” She drifted into the kitchen, pulling out plates from Laurel’s cabinet and forks from her drawers. “Breakfast is served!”

Laurel let out a laugh as she grabbed the box with her french toast, taking a sip of her mocha. “I think the credit goes to the chefs at the restaurant, but whatever you say, Madi.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but we ordered it.

By the time they had all inhaled their breakfasts and cleaned the kitchen — Laurel and Pierre tag-teamed the dishes — it was almost eight, and Madeline whisked her into her room to get ready. “There should be a couple beers in the fridge, help yourselves!” Laurel shouted out the door as Madeline tried to wrestle her into the ensuite. For the most part, Madeline was good at listening to Laurel’s pleas against a dramatic makeup look. Muted rose lipstick, filled in her eyebrows, delicately pulled back her hair into a twisted bun. “Where’s your setting spray?” Madeline asked, rooting through her makeup bag.

“Top drawer on the left. Are you finally going to let me see?”

Madeline pulled the drawer out, uncapping the bottle and spritzing it over Laurel’s face. “Go for it.”

Laurel turned around, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Oh my God,” she said, turning her head so the glimmer of her highlighter caught in the early-morning sun streaming through the open window. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve put the dress on,” Madeline said, pulling it off of its hanger and draping it across the chair. Sweats came off and the dress went on, Madeline carefully pulling up the back zipper and straightening out her hem. Laurel bent down to put on her shoes, threading the silver straps through the tiny metal clasp before giving her leg a good shake. Madeline looked at her sceptically.

“What?” Laurel asked innocently. “I don’t want it to fall off halfway down the aisle.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door, Patrice’s voice floating in from the other side. “It’s 9:20, you two about ready to head out?”

“Coming!” Madeline called back, pulling Laurel up from the bed. “You ready, Laur?” Laurel gave a nervous nod. “Let’s go get you married.”

She stepped out into the living room, reaching up to her neck and fingering the silver filigree of her grandma’s wedding necklace, one of the only things she had left to remember her by. If she wasn’t able to complete the whole rhyme, at least she’d have her something old. “Who’s driving?” she asked.

Pierre wheeled around, mouth gaping like a fish when he saw her. Laurel immediately looked down to her dress, wondering if she had spilled one of her pre-wedding mimosas. “What is it?” she asked frantically. “Is there something in my teeth?”

He shook his head, tugging at the sleeves of his navy blue suit. “No, there’s nothing in your teeth, it’s perfect. You look beautiful.” They were in the car five minutes later, picked up the bouquet from the florist five minutes after that, and were outside of the courthouse by 9:50. Laurel took a deep breath, looking up at the glass doors of the Palais de Justice. Pierre threaded his fingers between hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”

Laurel nodded, nervous but determined, sure that she was making the right decision. “Ready.” She barely remembered signing in, barely remembered going back to the clerk’s office, barely remembered her reading the mandated articles of the civil code. She gripped Pierre’s hands, giving him as much of a reassuring smile as she could, as the vows were read.

“Pierre-Luc Dubois, do you take Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, here present, to be your wife?” Juliette asked.

“I do.”

“Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, do you take Pierre-Luc Dubois, here present, to be your husband?”

“I do,” Laurel said, voice steady.

Juliette continued. “By virtue of the powers vested in me by law, I now declare you, Pierre-Luc Dubois, and you, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, united in the bonds of marriage.” Patrice passed over the rings; Laurel slid Pierre’s onto his ring finger, he gently twisted hers to rest on top of her engagement ring. “You are now legally married. Allow me, on my own behalf and on behalf of all those present, to offer you our best wishes for your happiness. You may now kiss the bride.”

Laurel panicked for a moment, before looking up and meeting Pierre’s eyes. In the span of a second, she communicated her unspoken agreement with the tiniest nod of her head, and his lips were on hers. His arms were against the small of her back, hers wrapped around his neck, and even enough it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, it felt like hours. It felt like coming home.

#pierre-luc dubois #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey smut #nhl writing #pierre-luc dubois imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl smut #nhl #hockey #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic

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onyourzeus · 4 years ago

Text

11:48 am | pjh

title: 11:48am pairing: park jaehyung (of day6) & you genre: fluff, bullet style words: 2.1k

author’s note: mmm i’m kind of meh about this but i jus really needed to write so i don’t lose motivation, but this is just a short fic requested by this anon asking for a lazy day scenario with jae. hope it’s still an okay read.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

once you receive a specific text from jae on a regular day

“whatchu doinnnn”

you know he’s wondering if you’re not busy, and if you come hang out at his place

which, for the majority of the time, you always tell him “not much. y?”

even though you’re 99% sure of what he wants out of you

you have already made your way to a coffee shop before he had replied

“same. wanna do nothing together? :)”

so u get two coffees: one americano and one vanilla latte (as much as you want to cut down calories here, there is no way you can drink just water and espresso by itself

you decide on getting two sandwiches as well, it’s close to noon and there’s a high probability that jae just woke up and he hasn’t even moved from the bed

you’re lowkey happy that jae texts you first (assumingly) during days like this because, honestly you miss the 6 foot lanky nerdy soft boy a lot

jae has a habit of keeping to himself during his downtime, especially now

but with him streaming and having new friends through the platform has helped him socialize and feel a sense of normalcy from the world, which you are really glad for

he’s mentioned how much he misses doing band activities but doesn’t really elaborate on them

he think he talks about it too much and that you wouldn’t want to hear his repetitive whining

you don’t have the needed bravery in your heart (yet) to tell him you will never get bored or feel burdened by his thoughts, no matter what they entail

so for now, when he asks of your presence in his lovely abode— you make time for him. always.

even if it’s just a lazy day of doing nothing

you knock on his door and text him at the same time. you look around his neighborhood and enjoy the peace and quiet outside. you wonder if jae’s soundproof walls work well enough for his next door neighbors this time. you had told him multiple times that sungjin wouldn’t appreciate the noise too much, and he if he wanted to play he can do so at your place

however you never suggested that last thought. it swam in the sea of your thoughts one too many times but it never came to shore. you thought too much about the implications of that idea

besides, what good came out of reminding him of his streamer noises is that he finally has an apartment of his own

and you don’t feel as shy or out of place whenever you came over to the one he shared with the boys

“oh hey, wasn’t expecting you,” jae had opened the door and you snap out of your wondering

he greets you with drowsy eyes, a full yawn and long strands of hair sticking out everywhere

you huff out a breath and show the goods in your hands. “you’re definitely gonna need this.”

his eyes light up as he recognizes the contents of the paper bag

“whaaaat you shouldn’t have, i was about to order for delivery,” he tries for an innocent tone but the goofy smile on his face makes that extra trip to the cafe worth it

“you’re welcome, jae.”

lazy days with jae come in two ways

number one: absolutely the title. you crash on the bed, he scolds you for it but then you feel his crushing weight on top of you for revenge or

you hog the couch, splay your legs until jae does the same thing and entangles all your limbs together it becomes a semi wrestling match

number two: he’d end up wanting to do something all this time, either jam on his guitar or play WoW with you in the background, just watching

commenting on things you have 0 knowledge about, and him dismissing every words you say with a random scream from his end

“you’re so bad at this lmao”

“NONONO STOPSTOPSTOP NONONO”

“is the riff supposed to sound like that? ew”

“you want your face to meet my guitar? :)”

yeah, banter between you can be brutal like this which is why it gets a little embarrassing to be your true self with him when the others are involved

today, jae seems to just enjoy sipping on his iced coffee while tippy tapping on the floor to sit next to you on the couch

??? how can a grown man do something puppies so effortlessly pull out… just as cute if not even better???

usually, silence isn’t how the two of you spend lazy days together. once he’s thought of a topic to talk about, however out of this world or mundane it could be— the conversations you share are what you cherish the most bonding with jae

“you ever think about the first piece of a roll of sliced bread?”

“you mean the weird looking pieces no one ever chooses first and leaves it there until there’s none of the good slices left?”

“the very one” “what about it?”

“you’re that slice of bread”

“well yeah? jokes on you, you’re the OTHER piece. there’s two in a pack dumbass”

one would mistake this as insulting, but this is how jae shows his affection to you, and you wouldn’t want it any other way

there’s a certain comfort in just.. not deliberating whether you’d overstep a line or say something that would be misconstrued. with jae, you appreciate the candid friendship you mutually benefit from

his sarcastic personality can be a pain at times when not needed, of course, but when you’ve missed him so much it just feels right

“jae your legs are too long for the couch get a new one.” he had taken over the other end of the couch with his legs over yours, and you’re trying your best to make the position comfortable

but being inches close to his socks and noticing that he’s intentionally moving his feet about just to annoy you

“you get me a new couch so we both fit here”

“bro do you know how empty my wallet is rn”

“as empty as your love life?”

“oh we’re talking about ourselves right now? ok cool”

he scoffs at your comeback, but he remains speechless and gives you room to breathe. you panic for a second thinking maybe, this is the unexplained boundary he has to draw a line on? love?

but he puts down his already finished americano, and looks back at you a deadpan expression

you sit up as well, nerves creeping up on your arm. you didn’t want to take it too far and in your defense, this isn’t the first time you teased each other about your, well, non-existent romantic endeavors

“jae, i—”

“oh my god did you see your face?? i was kidding chilllll” he starts to burst into a fit of laughter, the kind where he loses air and lolls his head back

this time you pout, reaching over to flick him on the forehead. his 6th sense had improved a lot overtime being with you as he blocks your hand away from his face, and sticks a tongue out

“you think i wasn’t prepared for that anymore?” he taunt, locking his grip around your wrist

“now you’re just making fun of me” >:(

“you get really puffy cheeks and look adorable when you’re mad”

“THAT IS NOT A VALID REASON!!”

eventually he lets you go, pats your head then proceeds to just ruffle it as messy as his, and in an instant your mood changes again

you shouldn’t lie to yourself anymore, you love jae’s company and it would kill you if he’d one day decide he’s too old or too “mature” for moments like this

you get winded up with denial of having a crush on your best friend, and you’re so sure he knows at this point

because he reels you back into the present and challenges you to a game os super smash bros

and when he loses, he does it again. and you win again, and this time he says it was just a warm-up and he shouldn’t go easy on you anymore

and then you win again, and you’re the one cackling in the air at his look of defeat as well as the 6 losses he had endured during the matches

“man you’re getting rusty”

“am not! i’ve just been playing WoW too much i’m not used to switch controls anymore…”

“sure buddy”

“HEY, 1v1 me in league right now, i dare you”

“no”

“WHY?”

“you only have one desktop, stupid. i didn’t bring my laptop”

“oh so by default I win :D”

nothing can ever get away with jae, he always needs to have the last laugh with you and at times it’s frustrating, but his carefree charisma has grown on you so much that you anticipate what else he has in store to give you a hard time

jokes on him, you fall for jae just an inch deeper the more he treats you comfortably this way

it’s only been an hour or two, but jae had decided that he’s done enough productive stuff for the day (read: losing too many times) and invited you over to chill on his bed

it’s not an uncommon sight for the both of you to lie next to each other, taking turns with queueing up music on spotify. songs you and jae love together, and those that are new to your ears

sometimes, you’d talk over the playlist— it becomes more of background noise as jae asks you about your day, the days before that, and what you’re planning on doing in the future

he doesn’t ask for specific answers, he likes to hear how you’ve been feeling, emotionally so

jae has always been intrigued by other people’s perception of themselves, of the things around them, and of what they think of the universe in the back of their minds

it was a little too much to handle, those questions of his, when you first were just getting to know each other

but he eased into it naturally, confessing about his love for the moon— its beauty in appearance, and the beauty of its purpose

which made you think… you’re in love with the moon too, not just what you see in the sky

but what you see right next to you right now

jae had given you enough time before to open up about your own thoughts, struggles, and share secrets with him. it didn’t take long until you found the trust between you and held onto it for dear life

lazy days with jae can be just that— lazy, loafing around the house, stealing a chip or two from each other’s bag, falling asleep to the sound of lofi music on the speaker

but it can go this way too: with jae explaining how good this one song can be, the metaphors every verse carries with the melody. “you’ve always heard of chocolate eyes or whatever, but blueberry? and to describe the setting sun as strawberry skies? amazing, GENIUS”

and you laugh, and listen to the same song over and over as per jae’s request until he overpowers the original vocals— and you don’t complain, there’s not a sound you love to hear on a lazy afternoon than his low register, the kind of singing he does just for the heck of it. he’s not exerting too much range, too much work on the words he sings— he’s just doing so to comfort him, to bring life to the room, to dwell on each poetic verse’s meaning

i’m so lost in your blueberry eyes

he finishes singing, and the playlist shuffles to an instrumental lofi track with an upbeat, charming rhythm to it

jae keeps his eyes closed, smiling to himself probably proud for his faux performance

“you done gloating in your head yet, jae?”

“shut up i’m feeling the moment”

you poke his shoulder with yours, and you’re suddenly hyper aware at how close the two of you are.. physically, right now

he turns his head towards you, eyes fluttering, lips slightly open. he catches you staring, and it’s too sudden for you to look away and pretend it’s not awkward at all

“what are you doing?” he asks, a lilt of teasing on his voice but his eyes never leave yours

“sh..shut up,” you quip in a small voice, looking down on your laying bodies before turning away, cheeks warm

“wait what? what i was asking a genuine question—”

“i was.. feeling the moment, okay? god jae you’re annoying” you mutter under your breath, a lousy response to cover up the pounding in your chest

“this moment feels really nice, doesn’t it?” he says next to you, quiet but gentle

you pause for a second, taking in his words and letting go of the smile you’re trying to hold off on

your heart is still racing, but there wasn’t a need to worry about stumbling with your feelings

if jae himself is enjoying your own company right now

“it is. if it’s with you, it really is.”

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #day6 x reader #park jaehyung imagines #park jaehyung scenarios #park jaehyung x reader #park jaehyung au #day6 jae #dot series #by:jiae

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storiesbymads · 4 years ago

Text

SHE’S A WORKING GIRL NOW ¹ ( the internship . )

Y/N just got an internship at her childhood best friend’s brother’s company. The same brother who has no idea they’ve even met before.

general warnings: smut, age gap (about 8 years), angst

add yourself to the taglist + series masterlist

You had known JJ Maybank since the first day of first grade. Funny how a teacher’s random seating chart had affected pretty much your whole life. If it hadn't been for said seating chart, you were absolutely, 100% sure that your life would’ve been on a completely different course than the one it was on now.

JJ had been your absolute best friend for as long as you could remember. Hell, for most of your life the two of you had shared everything--including a birthday party since your birthdays were three days apart. He had been there for every scraped knee, every failed test, every breakup. The two of you graduated high school attached at the hip and started college the same way that fall.

By the time junior year rolled around, you had both moved into a small apartment on the far side of town which, thankfully, meant no more student housing for either of you. Dorm life had been hell for you. Your roommate never seemed to fail at bringing someone new home every Friday night and would often kick you out leaving you to fend for yourself in the hallway. In all actuality, you stomped over to JJ’s dorm downstairs with your duvet wrapped around your shoulders and a scowl on your face when 2am rolled around and she still wasn’t done.

“Good morning to you to sunshine,” he would say after you vigorously knocked on the tacky, brick colored door. You would simply push past him into the room and throw yourself onto his twin bed while his own roommate remained fast asleep. Aaron--you ended up learning his name about six months after you started regularly crashing in their dorm-- was one of the loudest snorers you think you’d ever met but at least you had a bed.

“We’re so moving into our own place next year,” you would say as he shuffled into the bed, his feet situated where your head was and vice versa. Of course, it took you both another whole year to actually accomplish this dream but, somehow, you managed it.

Now, it was the summer before what was supposed to be your senior year--JJ was sure he wasn’t going to be graduating this year due to the fact that he’d failed more than a couple classes and you already knew you were going stay here as long as he was--and you were days away from starting an internship at Maybank Industries.

When you had originally applied for the internship, you had no idea it was JJ’s older brother who ran the company. You both thought it was just some funny coincidence. The fact that it was called Maybank Industries was what made JJ so adamant on you applying in the first place. Now, less than a week before your first day, you were forced to come to terms with the fact that you’d be working under the same Jesse Maybank you’d known since grade school.

Jesse had been in high school by the time you and JJ had really gotten close. He’d already seemingly maxed out his height at 6’4 and his blond hair was shaggy and often stuck to his forehead when he got home lacrosse practice. He was the first boy you’d ever had a crush on. The 8 year age gap didn’t really phase second grade you.

“I’m going to shoot myself on Monday. My sleep schedule is so fucked,” you groaned as you shuffled out of your bedroom to see JJ sprawled out on the love seat in your living room with a half eaten bowl of Frosted Flakes on the coffee table in front of him. You squinted as you read the digital clock on the microwave. 1:17 blinked back at you in bright red numerals.

“Morning, sunshine,” JJ said. You didn’t know how or when it had happened but he had managed to develop healthier sleeping habits than you. Waking up before noon sounded like hell to you and he’d done it three times this week.

“Fuck off,” you said, moving his feet so that you could sit down before setting them back on your lap. He grabbed the bowl of soggy cereal and took a bite. A shudder ran through your body as you faked a gag.

“Oh don’t be like that. It’s not my fault I don’t shovel my Frosted Flakes down my throat at hyper speed,” he said before setting it back down. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this argument and you were sure it wasn’t going to be the last.

“It’s how they’re supposed to be consumed. It should be considered a war crime to let them get all…” another fake gag. “Soggy.”

“Whatever. You’re just jealous because I’m able to retain the quality crunch the entire time,” you said. You focused your gaze on the small flat screen mounted to the wall to see that JJ had put on some crime drama. Probably Law & Order.

“So, who’s the killer?” you asked after a few moments of silence passed. The rest of the day passed like this; you and JJ managed to get through 6 episodes of SVU before you decided it was probably time to get up and do something productive. And by something productive you meant get dressed enough and go out to grab take out.

By the time your Monday morning alarm rolled around, you realized you should have attempted to regulate your sleep schedule a hell of a lot sooner than two nights before you were forced to get up at 5am. You flicked on your overhead light with a groan before starting your morning routine--well, some semblance of a morning routine since you really hadn’t done one since school ended.

The drive to Downtown Chapel Hill wasn’t long. Well, it shouldn’t have been long but for some reason it felt like everyone and their mother was out on the interstate this morning. You were just desperately hoping you weren’t late on your first day as you tried to push your car past 25 mph.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to Jesse as you found yourself in a standstill on the roadway once again. You knew he wasn’t going to look like the boy you remembered but deep down you wish he was. Nothing could ever replace the 19 year old boy in your mind with his crystalline blue eyes and a smile that could make any girl weak in the knees.

A horn sounded behind you, pulling you from your day dream, “Fuck, sorry!”

At least you were going the posted speed limit now.

By the time you saw the Maybank Industries building coming into view, you were ten minutes away from being on time, eleven from being late. You could feel your anxiety rising in the back of your throat as you glanced back and forth from the road to the digital clock in your car.

“Mr. Maybank?” you asked tentatively through the frosted glass of his office door fifteen minutes later. You couldn’t help but picture that 19 year old opening the door and pulling you into a hug. That was if he even remembered you enough to pull you into a hug. And if he wasn’t pissed about his new intern being late.

“Come in,” he said. Wow, his voice was a lot deeper than you remember it being. And raspier.

You took in his whole office as you pushed open the door. The first thing you noticed was the gold plated nameplate with ‘Jesse Maybank’ engraved in bold letters with ‘CEO Maybank Industries’ in a finer print beneath it. Next you took in the view of downtown Chapel Hill out of the floor to ceiling windows behind his desk.

“Good Morning,” you said in a shaky voice. Sure, he’d been good looking when he left for college all those years ago but nothing could compare to how he looked right now. His shoulders had broadened significantly since he was nineteen and he filled out the white dress shirt he had rolled up to his elbows nicely. You were sure that if you hadn’t been leaning up against the door frame your knees would’ve caved in by now.

He hummed as he looked up from his laptop, finally making eye contact with you, “You must be my new intern.”

“Yes,” you nodded as you shifted your weight onto your other foot. He raised his eyebrows slightly, standing up to walk around the wooden desk and lean against the front of it. You couldn’t help but watch the sleeves of his shirt bulge slightly as he crossed his arms. “Oh, right. I’m Y/N.”

“You seem nervous, Y/N…” he trailed off, obviously expecting a continuation of your name. Surely, he hadn’t forgotten about you completely. You knew you looked different than when you were eleven but the name alone should’ve sparked something.

“Y/L,” you said. At least now you could tell JJ you hadn’t been accepted in his brother’s internship program just because you were his best friend.

“Well, Miss Y/L/C,” he said. “There’s a stack of files on my desk that need to be sorted by lunch today.”

“O-Okay,” you stuttered, slowly pulling yourself off the door frame to pick up the files. You mentally cursed yourself for choosing to wear the tallest heels in your closet this morning. At least they made your legs look good.

“I expect them on my desk before you leave,” he said. You were praising God and anyone else that was up there that you made it back to the door without tripping.

“Yes sir,” you said as you struggled to close the door with the stack of files in your arms. You watched his frame through the frosted glass shuffle around his desk to sit down again. How the fuck were you going to make it through the summer if your heart almost fell out of your ass after one conversation?

The rest of the day passed by interminably slowly. The rest of the interns who had seemingly been at the company for a few years at this point--you didn’t understand why they chose to intern at the same company every summer if they never seemed to get a job out of it--and you felt incredibly out of the loop already. One of the interns, though, was kind enough to bring you a cup of coffee an hour or so after you had gotten there. Scout--you were sure you would forget her name in twenty minutes but she’d been nice enough to introduce herself--had apparently been with the company for the past three years with hope to become a paid intern come next month.

“Thank you. I really needed this,” you had said with a smile. She waved it off with a smile of her own before getting situated at her desk across the small room.

Other than that, though, the day had been boring to say the least. You didn’t know what you were expecting with this internship but sitting at a desk in an office with three other interns doing seemingly nothing for most of the day was not it. After you finished everything you’d needed to do with the files--with a lot a bit of help from the boy sitting next to you--you were forced to just sit at your desk and look like you were doing something productive.

You only had about an hour left in the work day but the coffee Scout had brought you that morning had worn off way past the point of you just being a little sleepy. Another small cup wouldn’t hurt anything. Especially since you’d caught yourself nodding off at your desk three times already. You pushed yourself up from the semi-comfortable desk chair to go look for the break room.

Thankfully, it was only a few doors down from the office you’d been working in all day and the door had been propped open with a door jamb. It only took you a second to realize Jesse was also in the small room. He was leaned up against one of the counter tops, stirring what you guessed was coffee in a stark white mug.

“Looks like you had the same idea as me,” you said softly, picking up a matching mug off the tray as well as one of the many Keurig pods next to it.

“Great minds think alike.” He lifted his mug in greeting before dropping the spoon into the sink. The low ceiling of the kitchen made him look even taller than usual.

It was silent for a few moments while your cup brewed in the machine. You fiddled with your thumbs to pass the time. It didn’t help that you could feel Jesse’s eyes on you the whole time. You didn’t know why he was still in the room, to be honest.

“You know,” he cleared his throat. “I can see your… uh…”

“My what?” you asked, dropping your hands and looking down your body. You were sure you’d worn the right bra this morning. You’d even gotten JJ to check before you walked out the door.

“Your garter belt,” he said. Sure enough, you glanced down at your pencil skirt which was hiked up to your mid thigh, a good two inches of the garter belt on your right leg on display. A rush of embarrassment flooded over you as you turned around, tugging the skirt down your legs.

“I’m so sorry, sir. Won’t happen again,” you sputtered out as you attempted to busy yourself with the tray of mugs. It would only be a few more seconds before your coffee finished and you’d be able to run back to your office.

“It’s fine,” he chuckled. You felt your chest tighten at the sound. He exhaled slightly before you heard the rustling of him moving around behind you. You suddenly became hyper aware of just how narrow the kitchen was. His hand was pressed against your waist as he shuffled past you. The size of his hand made sense, he was an incredibly large man, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that the width of his hand spanning half of your torso sent shivers down your spine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, sir?” you asked once he was fully out the door. He made a half-turn in the door frame, giving you a two finger salute in response.

“See you in the morning, Miss Y/L/N,” he said. You muttered something incoherent as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shaking your head, you grabbed the coffee that had been finished brewing for a solid minute before making your way back to your office.

tagging: @ptersparkers @digniteas @kiarascarreras @letsgofullkook @kirikaelak @haute-shawn @obx-baby @httpstarkey @x-lulu @obbx-tings @poguestyleskye @erraaxh @sunwardsss @katrynec

#the internship #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks series #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #best friend! jj maybank #jesse maybank #jj maybank series #series

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softboywriting · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome To The Pack | Mendes Triplets Series | Part Nine | Shawn’s Ending

Summary: You’re a human who has moved in with the Mendes triplets as their newest housemate. You’ll have to learn to navigate life with werewolves, college classes, and your feelings for each guy. [fluff]

Word Count: 2.4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Shawn has a game against the college's long time rivals, the Cavaliers. He's nervous, been pacing the house all day. It's easily the biggest game of the season. You've been trying to get him out of his head all day, telling him it's just a game, that his team is incredible. You know he's stressed because he's the captain. It's on his shoulders to lead his team to victory.

"Do you wanna go somewhere with me?" Shawn asks around noon after hours upon hours of fretting.

"Like where?" You ask, curious to see what he has in mind. Anything would be better than his fretting.

"The diner. I uh...I used to have this tradition of going for milkshakes before games when I was in the local league as a kid." Shawn rubs his neck. "I stopped a few years back because I started getting into working out and it didn't fit in with my diet and...it's a stupid reason really. Anyway. Will you go with me?"

"Sure." You push your laptop off your legs and get up to grab your shoes. "Are you paying? I don't have a ton extra this month and-"

"I got it." He offers his hand and you take it to balance yourself as you pull your boots on. "It'd be rude to make you pay when I invited you out."

"Well, you'd be surprised. Some guys are real jerks about that."

Shawn wraps his arm around your shoulders. "Some guys are dicks. Well, most guys, but you probably know that. I try no to be a dick."

"You aren't Shawn, no worries. Let's go, I could use a chocolate shake and some fries."

___________________

At the diner you and Shawn sit in the far corner booth away from everyone else. It's a little drafty due to the old windows but it's fine. Shawn notices you shivering despite your sweatshirt and peels off his hoodie for you, passing it over the table.

"Thanks." You put it on and it smells like fresh laundry and his cologne. It's the best combination of floral linen scented detergent and heady rich sandalwood. You aren't sure if he's gonna get this thing back later.

"Oh man, they have a cinnamon roll shake for the holidays." Shawn points to the menu where it's listed. "I have to get it. Are you getting chocolate? Because we could share?"

"Yeah, and fries. I like to dip the fries into the shake."

"You're a freak."

"Me? Take a look in the mirror Captain Canine."

Shawn's jaw drops and you smirk. "You’re ice cold. That is such a low blow."

"I'm teasing, I figured you could handle it." You reach across the table and poke his chest. "A big wolf like you, you could take a few jabs to the ego."

He chuckles and pushes you hand away. "Mmm and I can serve them just as good."

"Oh? Dish it up then."

He shakes his head. "I won't do that to you. I care about you too much to insult you mindlessly. I will draw the line at fries in a shake though. Inexcusably freakish."

"Don't knock it until you try it."

The waitress comes over and takes your orders, giving Shawn a few looks that make you feel a little uncomfortable, like she’s sizing him up to prey upon later. She walks away with a hairflip, a giggle and a very unnecessary squeeze of Shawn's shoulder. You watch her like a hawk as she disappears into the kitchen.

"You alright?" Shawn asks, hand waving in front of you.

"Yeah. Just...thinking." You turn your gaze to him and he leans his head on his chin, a single floppy curl hanging down between his eyes. He's due for a trim, he's starting to look more like Peter with that mop of hair. "You need a haircut."

"Uh uh. I wanna grow it out." He runs a hand through it and pulls it all the way up between his fingertips. "I want a sweet man bun."

"Oh no, Shawn no."

"Yes! Come on. I'd look so hot." He gathers his hair and twists it up into a tiny pouf between his fingers. "You love it."

"I do not. You look like a doofus. The headband for working out is ridiculous enough."

"Awww you're not nice. I love my headband."

You roll your eyes and he laughs. "Whatever you wanna do I guess."

"I'll cut it. I promise. It's getting in my eyes. I can't wear the headband under my helmet anyway, it's not comfortable. Maybe tomorrow I'll make an appointment. Anyway, what were you staring at the waitress for?"

"Nothing."

"It was not nothing. Are you jealous she was flirting with me?"

You roll your eyes but you don't deny it. You are definitely jealous.

"You are." Shawn coos teasingly. "It's alright, I get jealous too sometimes."

"Of what?"

"You." He chews his lip and before you can ask him why the waitress returns with your orders.

You smile at her and ask for two extra straws, clearly stating you'll be sharing both milkshakes together. Shawn reaches across the table and threads his fingers between yours. He smiles at the waitress and then you. The waitress looks down and she seems to take the hint that her flirting is not welcome.

You don't want to jump back into the jealousy conversation afraid that you might be wrong about Shawn's intentions. He doesn't seem to be playing games and he obviously had no problem showing the waitress he wasn't interested. But still...the lingering fear of rejection remains.

"So, are you still worried about the game?"

Shawn sips his shake and nods. "Always. Nerves means you care. If I wasn't fretting about it I'd be too cocky and that's not how you win games. I've got nerves, but they're good nerves."

"Well, I'm glad we could do something to help." You dip your fries into your chocolate. "Wanna try?"

"Gross. Sure." Shawn says as he opens his mouth and closes his eyes. "Do I have to finish it?"

"Yes." You giggle and pop the two fries in his mouth. "Enjoy it."

"It's weird."

"Says the guy who must drink milk when we have spaghetti."

"Okay, that's a real thing though!" He covers his mouth and swallows. "I am not the only one."

"Fries in shakes is a thing too. Ever heard of Wendy's frosties and fries? It's a thing there."

Shawn rolls his eyes and you steal his shake in retaliation. He tries to get it back but you start sucking it down. "Hey! That's- alright then!" He steals your fry basket and starts eating them quickly like a crazed man.

You end up snorting while laughing causing milkshake comes out of your nose, in turn making him laugh as well and gag on the fries. The two of you break out laughing so hard you're crying. You don't care if people stare at you for making noise. Shawn's smile, his eyes, his laugh, everything in that moment radiates pure love. Maybe you're not wrong about how he feels. Maybe...maybe you should let him know how you feel.

____________________

You've done all you can to get Shawn to shake the nerves and before you part ways at the entrance to the ice rink, you give him a hug. He's got all his gear in a bag over his shoulder and he drops it in favor of holding you tight.

"You're gonna do great." You say, face smushed into his chest. "I promise you're gonna beat them. I'm your good luck charm remember?"

"Yeah," he laughs, pressing his nose into your hair. "I've won every game you have come to."

"Mmmhmm. And you'll win this one."

"I hope so." Shawn pulls back and smiles down at you. "I'll try not to look for you so much."

"You better not. I'll stay in the same spot."

"Actually," Shawn drops down on one knee and digs in his gear bag. "Here." He pulls out a jersey and hands it to you. "I can find you with this on."

"Don't you have to wear this?" You ask, taking the lump of fabric. You hold it up, turning it over to see MENDES printed on the back.

"It's my practice jersey. I know I gave you one for my first game but that one didn't have my name on it."

You grin, pulling it on over your sweater. "How's it fit?"

Shawn steps forward and bites his lip. "Looks good. Turn?" You do as he asks and he runs his hand over the name on the back. "Looks real good on you."

"Yeah? Feels kinda big."

"I meant the name."

"Oh." Your heart skips before going into overdrive, realizing he is flirting.

Shawn moves back around to face you and he's pink cheeked. "I have to go."

"Good luck." You lean forward to kiss his cheek and he cups your jaw as you pull away. For a moment your eyes meet and he looks like he's about to return the kiss. "Shawn?"

"Yeah?"

"You gotta go."

He guides your head up as he leans down to kiss your forehead. "I know." He pulls back and grabs his bag. "Oh, one more thing, earlier at the diner I wanted to ask you because I wasn't sure but...was that a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?"

A little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he looks just a bit more pink in the cheeks. "Would it be okay if I did?"

"Yes." You smile, looking down at his jersey on your chest. "Go, we can discuss this later."

Shawn groans and looks to the locker room doors and back at you, as if torn between playing the game or spilling his heart out more. "But-"

"Go!" You laugh and shoo him away. "We have forever to talk, but the game is now."

"Alright alright." He turns and heads for the locker rooms, glancing back only once and you give him a stern look that makes him chuckle.

Your stomach is doing backflips and the second he's out of sight you let out a little jump of excitement. He is interested. He is. You aren't wrong. You grip the front of his jersey and take a deep breath before heading into the seating area.

______________________

The game is incredible. It's a hard back and forth between the two teams. It comes down to the wire, the last shot being scored by Shawn with only six seconds left on the clock. The arena's cheers were deafening, everyone screaming and shouting for the team and Shawn. You're so proud of him, and when he looks for you in the crowd, you can only smile at him until your face hurts.

In the hall post game you wait, back against the cold bricks while Shawn and the team get undressed and ready to face the fans milling around in the hall surrounding you. Tonight is going to be a massive party, you already know of several going on. No doubt Shawn will want to go to some. You're just waiting to see him off, talk to him a little about earlier and tell him how amazing he played.

Two girls approach you, it's two of the ones from his first game that he declined invites from. They don't look too friendly.

"So, are you like Shawn's sister or something?" The taller one, a blonde, asks rudely.

"No. I live with him. We're housemates."

"Right...so did he give you that jersey?"

You look down at his huge jersey over your sweater. "Yes? I'm wearing it to support him and the team? What about it?"

The blonde rolls her eyes. "We figured you were dating him because usually the guys give their jerseys to their girlfriends. No idea why a girl like you would catch his eye though."

"It's none of your business if Shawn and I are dating, but thanks for that unwanted input."

"You-"

"Hey," Shawn's voice comes from behind the girls and they turn around, giggling over him. He's got on a fresh pair of clothes and his hair is damp from the showers. "You ready?"

"Y-yeah." You clear your throat and push down the angry tears that are threatening to bubble out from the rude girl. It's not that you want to cry, it's just that when you get angry it happens.

Shawn wraps his arm around you and walks you away while ignoring the other girls as they begin to attempt to talk to him. "Are you sure? You seem upset."

"I'm fine." You touch his jaw that's got a bruise starting on it, inspecting his soft skin. "You played amazing. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

Shawn stops just outside the exit doors. He smiles and presses his cheek into your hand a bit. He leans down close and suddenly it feels very intimate. "I couldn't have done it without you." His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up. "You're my good luck charm after all."

"Yeah."

"Earlier today...were you flirting with me?" He whispers softly, head ducked close to you.

"Yeah, a little."

"If you're up for it...I'd like to see where this goes."

Your heart races and he grins big. "I'd like that."

"Good." He leans in, nose touching yours. "Can I?"

Your voice is barely a whisper but you manage a clear, "Yes."

"You're sure?"

You ball your fists in his shirt and nod just a little bit. With that he presses his lips to yours. He's soft, lips warm and plush. Your eyes fall closed and you can hear people shuffling out the door nearby. Shawn smiles, teeth pressing against your lips.

"I've been wanting to do that forever."

You open your eyes and they meet his, pure golden brown. "Me too."

Raul and Peter pull up in Shawn's Jeep and honk at the two of you. Shawn let's out a snarl, baring his teeth at his brothers for rushing him.

"Let's go! Parties are waiting!" Raul yells from the passenger side window.

Shawn lets out a soft growl, focusing on you instead of his brother. "Can I do it again?"

"Please?" You giggle and he leans in, kissing you and smiling against your lips. "Let's go."

"Mmm, I can’t wait to show off my girl who helped me win the game tonight." Shawn says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and heading to the Jeep.

"’Bout time," Peter laughs as you crawl in the back seat with Shawn in tow.

Raul looks back and smiles, shaking his head. "Hey gave you his actual jersey? Shit, he's serious."

"Damn right." Shawn growls, tugging you in and pressing his nose to your hair. You wrap your arm around his and he grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. You smile, not able to hold it back. You couldn't be happier.

End

______________________

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. Next part coming soon! - A

Custom header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #raul mendes #peter mendes #mendes triplets #mendes triplets fic #shawn mendes fic

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baekhypnotized · 4 years ago

Text

☆— [four]

summary: Baekhyun is just a man who doesn’t believe in romance as much as Byul, who is trying to give herself to him. But day by day, he will soon realize that her fleeting actions are breaking down his cold-hearted brick wall, no matter if it takes her a million years.

warning(s): -

word count: 4.1k+

author’s note: please let me know what you guys think about this chapter!! if you would want to be tagged for next update, do tell me!! enjoy reading :)

tag list: @iloveagain @xlxbaekhyuneex @catboyseni

<<[prev] || [next]]>>

As promised, I come to the cafe early to pass the keys to Senior Hana. I offer to help her with the opening procedure which includes setting up the coffee machine and displaying desserts, so it would be easier for my other colleagues to start their work in the morning. Ever since last night, Baekhyun hasn’t replied to my text, up until now. I’m just hoping he wouldn’t forget our discussion that we had agreed on last night because I don’t want to screw any of my plans for today.

I make myself a serving of chicken sandwich and a cup of latte for breakfast while waiting for him. At least I can kill time before he arrives. Having done preparing my breakfast, I bring the tray and sit at the table by the window, at his usual spot. I devour the sandwich while watching the customers enter the cafe once Senior Hana opens the cafe for business. They must be the type of people who needs caffeine in order to start their day.

My phone rings, signalling a new notification. I put down my sandwich and grab the device. Finally, it’s a text from Baekhyun.

[Baekhyun]: I just woke up from my sleep. Am I late?

[Byul]: No you’re not. It’s 10:10 in the morning and you still have time.

[Byul]: Don’t rush yourself because I can wait for you though.

[Baekhyun]: Nah, I hate making a woman wait for me so I’ll be there soon.

[Byul]: Drive safe, Baekhyun.

[Byul]: I don’t want to meet you only with one hand.

[Baekhyun]: Haha, funny. Anyway, good morning.

[Byul]: Good morning :)

A wide smile is plastered across my face after replying to his texts. His replies are always so cute to me. I lock my phone and put it on the table before continuing to munch my sandwich and enjoying my hot latte. I love how today’s morning is peaceful with only a few people walking pass by the cafe. I’m also quite grateful that the class is cancelled.

I bet Soomin is still sleeping soundly on her bed as I don’t know any of her plans today. She might go out for shopping with Sehun or prefer to stay at home and watch Netflix. The differences between us are pretty visible. Soomin was born into a wealthy family, whereas I came from a humble background. My parents were divorced and my dad just went missing after the separation. My mom, on the other hand, decided to remarry. Even though Soomin and I came from different backgrounds, I’m still grateful that we are friends, because more often than not, we complete each other with our opposite personalities.

Suddenly, I get startled by a few knocks on the window that I accidentally smudge the sandwich across my cheek, leaving a streak of mayonnaise. I turn my head towards the cause of my surprise and is met with Baekhyun, the man is giggling to himself watching my funny reaction. I roll my eyes and pick up tissue to wipe the smudge off as he enters the cafe and joins me.

"Sorry I’m late,” Baekhyun apologies and I shake my head, telling him it’s fine as my mouth is full with the sandwich. He realises that I’m busy eating my sandwich. It makes him chuckle.

I quickly swallow the food in my mouth and ask him, “Have you had your breakfast?”

"My breakfast is coffee,” he answers and I nod my head. Once I finish eating my sandwich, I grab my cup of latte and sip it slowly, feeling uncomfortable with the sight of Baekhyun watching me.

I pull away from the cup, “Why? Is there any problem?” I ask.

"I want a cup of latte that you make,” he says. I scoff after hearing his request.

"Really, Byun Baekhyun? All the latte tastes the same!”

"But not yours,” Baekhyun grins widely, showing his white teeth. I sigh in surrender and stand up from my seat. He passes the money to me and I roll my eyes at him, causing him to chuckle. Heading back to the counter, I key in his order into the system and prepare his latte only in a few minutes. I use my skills to draw an angry emoji at his latte as a sign of revenge. As I head back to the table, Baekhyun has his legs crossed while he’s busy scrolling his phone.

I place the cup in front of me before settling down in my seat. “Baekhyun, your latte is there,” I inform him but he does not move any inches. I release a scoff while taking out my laptop from my bag. I don’t even know why he seems surprised to see that I’m back from making his latte.

"Yeay!” He beams. “Thank you, Hanbyul,” Baekhyun continues as he displays a sly grin to me before lifting the cup from the saucer plate and sips it.

I ignore him this time, rolling my eyes to the back of my head. Without wasting any time, I turn on my laptop for the discussion, expecting Baekhyun might need some time before he is done with his breakfast.

"Do you bring your laptop? Or any notebook to jot down?” I ask him and he replies with a nod. He finishes up his latte and begins to prepare himself for our first discussion by taking out his laptop.

After we reassure ourselves ready to begin the discussion, both of us starts by reading the statement and question given by our lecturer. Baekhyun looks smart when he shares his opinions regarding this project. I suddenly remember the first time we met at the cafe, he wore a fancy suit to order a coffee and I assume he's someone who already got himself a job. Because right now, Baekhyun looks like a professional, like someone who is a master in this course. Maybe, there is a reason why he decided to further his study in the Master of Business Administration.

Throughout our discussion, Baekhyun contributes more in giving his ideas. At the same time, I list down every point that we need to add or do research before starting the assignment. His hand gestures when explaining the details manages to distract my focus from the topic which causing me to keep on staring at it. Baekhyun’s long and slender fingers, hands with a few visible veins popping out shows his masculine side. His attractive silver wristwatch positioned on his left wrist gives an extra point.

"Hey, missy. Are you lost in your dreams?” Baekhyun snaps his fingers right in front of my face that cause me to jump in surprise in my spot.

"I’m sorry. Where are we again?” I tighten my grip around the pen as I lift my head to look at his face. Baekhyun chuckles at the astonishment on my face.

"Let’s continue this, huh?” He suggests and I reply with a hum. Baekhyun shakes his head, probably remembering my face when I was spacing out while he was talking. I admit, my face looks funny. Biting my lower lip as I try to forget that embarrassing moment, I continue to listen to his explanations diligently.

After spending hours at the table, I realised it’s already passed at 12 o'clock noon. We were too busy up until we didn’t have the time to even hold the discussion for a rest. Baekhyun already looks exhausted when he rests his back by the backrest. I turn off my laptop and keep it back in my bag, gathering all the used cups and saucer plates to bring it back to the kitchen.

"Tired, Baekhyun?” I ask him.

"Kinda, my brain isn't working good now,” he expresses.

I snort softly. “Now, you can go home and rest. I need to get ready for my next shift at 2. Great job for today.” Getting off from my seat, I carry the cups and plates to the kitchen.

But before I get to move, Baekhyun calls. “Hanbyul.” I turn around to face him with a curious look.

"About our date,” He stops for a second, “can you empty your schedule for this Saturday? I’ve booked a restaurant for dinner. We can go anywhere you want before that, if you want to.” Baekhyun speaks. My heart drops for a second when he mentions the date.I thought he had forgotten about it, not expecting him to be serious about his invitation the other day.

I think of the plans I might have for the day, hoping I will be able to clear it for the date. “Yeah, sure.” I give him an answer, remembering that I am free on that day. Baekhyun beams brightly upon hearing it.

He keeps all his stuff in his bag while I wait for him. Baekhyun gets ready to leave as he plasters a soft smile on his face.

"I’ll see you this Saturday, then?” He confirms back as I nod. Baekhyun comes closer to me and gives one last smile before he leaves the cafe without turning back. I swear, my heart is about to jump out of my chest at that moment.

Baekhyun doesn’t text or talk to me after the day we met for the discussion. We didn’t encounter each other by chance either since our Friday’s class was also cancelled by the lecturer. Now I am pacing around in my room on Saturday. I’ve done all the chores in the house today, from doing the laundry to washing the dishes and mopping the floor. I am determined to free my schedule today just for the date. But, I’m not sure if it’s going to be happening at this rate. I don’t have the guts to text him.

I even refuse Soomin’s invitation to go to the mall because I was waiting for him. In the end, she leaves the house with Sehun and I hope he will cheer her up. I’ve been scrolling my Instagram last night and I encountered his account that practically got me to sit up abruptly from my lying position.

Indeed, he’s not the type of guy who loves to post pictures of himself. Most of the pictures were random scenery and I found them aesthetic. Maybe, he just doesn’t like to share about his life and somehow, I think it suits his personality.

Baekhyun is a mysterious guy.

My desire to get to know him, every side of him is getting stronger day by day. He’s… irresistible. There is something different about Baekhyun, something that he hides deeper, away from everyone else. I’m sure it’ll take me some time to figure him out.

Finally, my phone rings after a few hours sitting in silence. I literally run to get to the phone. When I check the notification, a grin makes its way to my face. It’s really him! Like finally! Unlocking the phone, I open the text with a click.

[Baekhyun]: Hey, miss me?

I chuckle. Baekhyun is really an annoying guy, expecting that I will be missing him.

I don’t miss him. I’m just expecting his text. That’s all.

[Byul]: Ha ha. Obviously not, Byun Baekhyun.

[Baekhyun]: Ouch. That hurts.

[Byul]: Serve you right. So, why are you texting me?

[Baekhyun]: You must’ve forgotten our date tonight, huh?

I thought you’re the one who forgets it, Baekhyun.

[Byul]: Date? What date?

[Baekhyun]: Stop playing around, Hanbyul.

[Baekhyun]: I’ll pick you up at your house if you’re okay with it.

[Byul]: My house? But, I can go by myself to the restaurant.

[Byul]: No worries.

[Baekhyun]: Hanbyul, it’s unpleasant to let a woman go by her own for the date.

[Baekhyun]: I’ll pick you up at 8. Send me your address later.

[Byul]: Okay then…

[Baekhyun]: See you.

[Baekhyun]: And I’m expecting a real address.

I text him the address of my apartment before he replies to me with a curt 'okay'. Looking at the clock, I realize I still have a few hours left before the date. I stand in front of my wardrobe, staring at the few dresses that I have hanging in it. Going through some dresses, I sigh realizing I don't have any dresses that could be suitable to wear on a first date. He did mention about booking a restaurant so I figured he wouldn't bring me to somewhere I can simply wear my ordinary dresses. After contemplating between a royal blue coloured dress and a black dress for more than a few minutes, I decided to settle with a wine-coloured dress. The dress is short but it ends nicely above my knees. I then take my bath and get myself ready despite having an hour left till 8. I choose to put on natural shades make-up before putting on my dress. Finally, I style my hair with my hair curler and let them fall loose on my shoulders.

I inform Soomin about going out, omitting the fact that I'm going out for dinner with Baekhyun. As usual, she tells me to take care of myself, to not come back too late and to call her if anything happens. I agree with all of the things she told me and tell her to have fun with Sehun. She must be having a splendid day with her boyfriend. I envy her.

When the hands on the clock move to 10 minutes before 8, I receive a text from Baekhyun.

[Baekhyun]: I'm almost there. You can come out now.

It’s time. I bring my purse together with me when leaving the house. Riding the lift to the ground level, my heart couldn’t bring itself to pump normally. I wait for him at the entrance, my toes curling in anticipation. A few minutes later, a familiar black car stops right in front of me.

The driver rolls down the window, peeking his head from the inside, “Hop in, Hanbyul.”

I take a deep breath before getting into the passenger seat, buckling myself up. Baekhyun watches me settling down and when I turn to look at him, I was awestruck. The car may be dark right now but his charming look is visible.

"Ready to go?” He asks as I nod my head. Baekhyun presses the pedal and drives the car to our destination. Believe me, I just stay still like I used to, fingers gripping tightly around the seatbelt. The urge to look at him, the way he drives, is strong but I fight the desire. I realise he is stealing a few glances at me that makes me blush quietly.

We finally arrive at the restaurant after nearly half an hour. As expected, he brings me to fancy, and most probably, expensive restaurant. I follow Baekhyun from behind as the waiter brings us to the private room that he had reserved for us. He helps me pull my chair out, letting me take my seat before he does and I thank him softly. Baekhyun only replies to me with a smile, as sweet and charming as ever.

The waiter hands out the menu and I get surprised seeing the prices that make me gulp. Baekhyun must have saw me reacting to them as he chuckles softly.

"Would anything be okay for you? Any allergies or requests?” He asks concernedly.

"Yeah… I’m okay with anything.”

"Good. I’ll order the same thing as usual,” Baekhyun tells the waiter before he leaves the room, leaving me and Baekhyun alone.

"So… how are you?” Baekhyun initiates the talk first.

"I’m fine, as you can see. How about you, Baekhyun?"

"Quite busy handling something.” He replies. My mouth turns into an ‘O’ shape and we both get into silence again. I’m so nervous to look at him straight into the eyes and at the same time, I just don’t know what topic should we talk.

"Hey," he calls, making me lift my head up to face him. "You're usually so talkative at the cafe, why are you being quiet now?" He muses, followed by an amused grin.

"Baekhyun, how old are you?” I ask after contemplating for a few seconds.

"28. Do I look too old?” He questions me back and I chuckle with a shake of my head.

"I’m 2 years younger than you,” I confess.

"Yeah, I can see that.” He chuckles huskily this time.

A waiter comes into our room with a bottle of wine, pouring it into our glasses. I thank him politely before continuing the conversation.

"Regarding our assignment, when do you want to proceed? Are you free after we have our classes or—”

"Hanbyul, can we talk about anything else aside from the project?” He orders. My breathing stops for a second, hearing him speak in such a serious tone. I bring my head down to look at the table, fiddling with the napkin as I try to think of another topic to converse.

"How about you tell me about yourself? Maybe your family or anything?” I purse my lips together, waiting for his answer. Baekhyun smirks slightly, fixing his sitting posture.

"My family isn’t interesting at all. Let’s talk about yours. Shall we?" Baekhyun taps his fingers while staring at me with the same smirk. My stomach is about to flip all over because he's making me nervous with that look. I take a glass of wine and drink it slowly, tasting the alcoholic drink that is foreign in my throat. The wine somehow causes me to make weird facial expressions and I guess, Baekhyun sees it. Because he laughs softly.

"Does it taste weird?" He asks with concern.

"Kinda but it's tolerable. Thank you for asking," I reply. At least, the wine can calm my nerves after being so nervous in front of him. Baekhyun plasters a smile before he drinks his wine, waiting for me to start telling him about myself. I take the opportunity of the silence between us to calm myself down.

"So… here it goes.” I start telling him about my background honestly. I tell him about me being an only child with divorced parents; my dad disappeared since then, while my mom got the full custody of me. A few years after the divorce, she remarried another guy, my current stepfather and decided to move in with him at New Orleans. I also have an older stepbrother named Suho. Suho is two years older than Baekhyun.

"Don’t ask me whether he has a girlfriend or not because he hasn’t talked about it with me,” I warn Baekhyun. He only chuckles to my statement and asks me to proceed with the story.

It goes on from my life in New Orleans, with my new family. He listens to me diligently while waiting for our main courses to arrive. I tell him the reason I’m continuing my studies and it’s because I would love to run my own business. But, would definitely apply for a job at any company once I graduate from this post-graduate study.

"So, you’re telling me that you work at the cafe to pay for your study?” Baekhyun asks once he sips the wine as I nod my head slowly.

"I applied for a loan for my study because I had to,” I confess with a soft tone. Realising how tough my life is when I’m trying to be an independent person for my own future. I may belong to a modest family but I have been told by my mom that living without trying to achieve one's dream are useless.

Baekhyun hums. Finally, our meals arrive on time and I am glad for the distraction because I couldn’t bring myself to tell him more about my struggling life. He thanks the waitress that served us the food before she leaves the room. We’re having steaks for dinner tonight.

"Let’s eat, shall we?” He says and I smile. Both of us start to devour the juicy and thick steaks as I leave myself stupefied with the rich taste of the meat. It’s really scrumptious and no wonder it's one hella expensive food at a 5-star restaurant.

Baekhyun notices my reaction as he asks, “How does it taste? Good?”

I bob my head up and down, carrying on to eat. He seems happy watching me eating so well as a wide smile appears across his face. Baekhyun gives me one last glance before he continues to eat.

"How about you? What made you decide to continue into this course?” I blurt out, asking him a question.

"Well, I want to expand my knowledge in business. Who knows, I might be given the opportunity to handle a big one, one fine day,” he stops, making eye contact with me. I just bob my head a few times as a sign I’m listening to his explanation.

The conversations go on and on, but the difference is the awkwardness between both of us has vanished. Baekhyun literally tells lame jokes but it’s still funny when he expresses it. It manages to make me almost choke myself while eating.

Those crescent eyes, bulging cheeks and endearing smile when he smiles caught my attention. It’s a good view to be able to witness his another side apart from his manliness. Manliness was my first impression of him when he stepped into the cafe with a well-tailored suit. Not to mention, the way he talks and behaves, he must be a great person to befriend with.

We have chocolate lava cakes for dessert. Baekhyun has been asking my favourite flavour as I answer him, “Chocolate. How about you?”

"Strawberry flavour. Gosh, I’m willing to eat them 24/7 rather than kill myself with cucumbers.” Baekhyun explains.

I scoff while giving him an unbelievable look. “You don’t like cucumbers?”

"It’s not just I don’t like it. I hate it.” Baekhyun replies with a serious tone that makes me giggle. He may look like a sulking boy right in front of me, eating the lava cake with a slight pout.

"Come on, Baekhyun. It’s just a cucumber and delicious too when you eat just like that.” I give him my own opinion.

"Na-ah! Still, I hate it.” He retorts with a scowl on his face. I chuckle lightly and eat the lava cake. Suddenly, his phone rings loudly. He digs out his phone from his pocket and looks at the dialler. Instead of answering it, he lets the rings continue as he silent his phone.

"You can answer the call, Baekhyun. I don’t mind at all, it might be important.”

"It’s okay. Not important at all,” he says. “Let’s finish this up and then I’ll send you home, okay?” I hum and continue to eat quietly in my seat. I’m curious about the caller because the phone is still ringing and vibrating as he places his phone on the table. It does look like it’s important but he insists to ignore it so I am left to wonder quietly on my own.

Baekhyun pays for dinner and we go straight to my apartment with silence lingering in the car. Without having any courage to initiate the talk, I decide to stare at the window, looking at the Moon shining brightly in the dark sky. There aren't many stars tonight, only the Moon decorating the lonely night sky. The journey to my apartment is short, basically, he drifts the car at the empty road swiftly like a professional. When we arrive in front of the lobby, he offers to help me get out of the car by opening the door and lending his hand. Which successfully makes my cheeks go red.

"Thanks for tonight and the wonderful dinner, Baekhyun,” I thank him politely.

"No problem. Rest well and I’ll see you on Monday,” he says and I nod my head. Baekhyun gets back into his car, rolling down the window and bidding the last goodbye before he leaves. I sigh in relief, grateful at the same time for the great time I spent with him tonight.

I head straight home quietly without making any noises to avoid awakening Soomin who is probably sleeping in her room. After taking a quick shower, I hop on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I reminisce the moment I had with him. It’s almost 11 pm when my phone receives a notification and I bet it’s from Baekhyun.

[Baekhyun]: Asleep already?

[Byul]: Nope. Have you arrived at your home yet?

[Baekhyun]: I’m dropping by somewhere because I promised someone to meet tonight.

[Byul]: Oh… I see.

[Baekhyun]: Hanbyul, I forget to tell you something.

[Byul]: What is it?

Baekhyun doesn't reply to my question straight away that leaves me curious on my own. I decide to switch off the lights and gets ready to sleep when suddenly my phone rings again. I unlock it and look at the text. That text manages to make my heart and my mind has gone crazy when I read it.

[Baekhyun]: You look amazing in that dress, Hanbyul.

[Baekhyun]: Goodnight and sweet dreams, beautiful.

47 notes · View notes

sierrabinondo · 4 years ago

Text

2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could.

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration.

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid.

then... the following week came.

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of.

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah.

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.”

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic.

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried.

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal.

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs.

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH. i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am

-watching so. much. anime.

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

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larryfanficwriter98 · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Two

Falling In Love Through The Phone

It was one of the rare mornings that Louis woke up first. Harry was curled up against his back that he must have turned to him in his sleep. Harry's cheek pressed between his shoulders and his knees lined up with his where they bent together. Everything lined up perfectly and usually Louis would find comfort in it, but this morning, still confused about what happened the past few days, felt suffocated and had the urge to push Harry off of the bed. He didn't of course, but he did climb out of his arms and head downstairs wrapping one of the randomly placed blankets around the house around him before he got outside. He headed to the large basket swing chair and sat in it letting lightly sway as he thought back to through the past few days.

***********

Louis didn't know how long he sat there; he knew it was long enough for his body to get use to the cool air around him. Long enough that he had checked social media and google news enough times to turn his phone off completely.

"What are you doing out here before noon?" Louis turned and saw Harry heading over dressed in joggers and a sweater, "open up let me in." Louis hesitated but opened his arms and legs letting Harry climb in with his back to his chest. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's chest and kissed his shoulder. It became very clear very fast that they were most certainly not okay and that terrified Louis. Harry tensed when the silence turned stiff instead of comfortable but tried to pretend, he didn’t, and Louis pretended he didn't notice. Harry leaned closer into him and Louis tightened his arms around him.

"Want me to make some breakfast?" Harry asked already leaning to get up.

"No just order it." Louis mumbled pulling him closer, "let's just sit here and cuddle."

"My phone is...I don't know...somewhere."

"That's fine. I'm not hungry yet."

"Want me to hold you?"

"No."

"Before you break up with me can we go to dinner first?" Louis grinned chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek.

"I'm not breaking up with you Harry."

"Oh good." Harry looked back at him with a soft smile and Louis kissed him lightly on the lips, "do you want me to stay at a friends for a few days? Give us some space?"

"No but I think I will. Won't be permanent, but ever since you got back, we haven't had time to ourselves. It's not a break and it's not the beginning of an end for us, but some space. I love you and we're okay, well we will be, and you can definitely take me to dinner. At the end of the week away. We can have that first date where you come pick me up looking all spiffy." Harry grinned chuckling

"Okay. Not right now, though right?"

"No, we can cuddle for a while more."

"Good." Harry said snuggling back further though Louis didn't know how it was possible considering they were already pressed together. "Wait a whole week?"

"You'll survive."

"Yeah, but how will I sleep?!"

"The same way you did in L.A?"

"Surrounded by pillows and your shirts and cologne that I stole?"

"You stole my cologne?"

"The spare bottle not the one you're using. I was smart when I stole it."

"I love you dork. But yes, if that is how you need to slept without me by you then sure go ahead and I will steal your sweaters and cologne. In seven days, you can take me to dinner and bring me back home."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Louis kissed Harry sealing the promise, he had no intentions of breaking up, but he knew if they wanted to fix whatever it was that happened, they needed space. They needed a week away. No contact, no texting, no calls, nothing. For now, cuddling in the morning air in the swing Harry bought because Louis sat on it once inside the store was what they needed. After lunch Louis could worry about everything else.

*************

Louis was glad to notice Harry had put up the privacy barrier around the gate, so no one actually saw Louis put his bag inside his car. They did not need that on top of everything else. As far as they were concerned, they fans didn’t need to know anything because there was absolutely nothing to tell. Louis put his laptop bag into the car then turned to Harry who was pouting as he watched Louis put a duffle bag filled with almost every sweater Harry owned and his laptop bag into his car. After many kisses and ‘I love you’s Louis got into his car and headed to Liam and Zayn’s since they were the closest and he wasn’t feeling up to driving the extra ten minutes to Niall’s. When he got there Liam and Zayn had apparently invited Niall over as he discovered when he walked through the front door.

“Why did you invite the Irish?” Louis asked

“Because the Irish loves you.” Niall said standing and opening his arms for a hug.

“We’re not breaking up I don’t need a hug or ice cream or a cuddle. We just need space.” Louis said though he did hug Niall anyway since he was offering.

“Oh, hush which ice cream container do you? We have plain chocolate, we have cookie dough, we have Oreo, we have fudge…” Zayn said as he pulled out said containers from the freezer making Louis roll his eyes.

“Since you have it, I’ll take the chocolate.” Louis said as he headed to the couch and flopped on it.

“You two are okay, though right?” Liam asked.

“Yes, we’ll be fine. I just…want to be away for a bit. Remember that video from uni? I was like really drunk and my ex said he deleted it.”

“He didn’t?”

“No. He sent it to Harry’s management team. They used that to get Harry to L.A. Harry didn’t know until he got there what the whole thing was about though and obviously it’s not something one explains on the phone.”

“Right. So is he upset about-“

“No. No he didn’t care about it, he just didn’t want it publicized and neither do I obviously. He said the person who sent it just wanted money I guess, they paid him and made him sign a contract and that was that but the whole holding hand debacle was already done. Now I’m the jealous lover who outed my boyfriend.” Louis said with an eyeroll.

“Yeah, we saw some of the headlines. Does Harry know what people are saying?”

“No Harry never gets on social media or the internet for that matter. Not since I made stop, it was getting to him when everyone hated him after he ended the tour. If he’s on it’s to post a quick photo of us, then he’s off just as quickly. He keeps telling me I should stop, but I didn’t care too much about being accused of stealing Harry from teenagers. Now though I’m in headlines all over the internet and YouTube videos believe it or not. Fucking gossip channels are saying I outed him before he was ready. What a load of shit.” Louis stabbed his ice cream with his spoon and stuck it into his mouth after getting a large enough piece.

“I mean I knew dating Harry Stylers would come with stuff like this, but to say that I outed my own boyfriend?! To say that I’m keeping him from a woman who could give him kids?! As if I can help that! Harry wouldn’t have been with a woman if it weren’t for me anyway so why the hell, they’re blaming me at all is ridiculous! AND HARRY! Don’t even get me started on him! I swear it’s like he doesn’t realize that I’m the one getting shit on because of his stunt! THEN HE THINKS A DINNER IS GOING TO JUST MAGICALLY SOLVE EVERYTHING!” Louis didn’t know where all that came from and to shut himself up, he shove three spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth not daring to look over at his mates faces.

“Feel better?” Niall asked.

“No.”

“Well then continue.” Niall said as he shoved his own ice cream into his mouth. Louis remained silent as he watched whatever was on the tv while eating spoonful after spoonful.

“Louis it’s perfectly healthy and okay to be mad at Harry. He’s not perfect you know and admitting that isn’t going to make us suddenly think he isn’t worth of you and it won’t make you suddenly not love him. He’s human too.” Liam told him calmly, Louis looked at him and whatever was in his face made Liam come over to him and wrap his arms around his shoulders, “repeat after me okay?”

“Why?”

“Harry.” Liam said making Louis roll his eyes

“Harry.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“Perfect.”

“Harry is not perfect.”

“Liam I’ll cut your sack off if you don’t shut up.”

“You didn’t repeat it.”

“Zayn where’s the knife?” Louis asked standing up and Liam quickly hid behind Zayn, “That’s what I thought. I know okay. I know he isn’t. I just- I don’t know. It seems like he should be though. I make him out to be in my head all the time because he almost is.”

“Well, he isn’t. The sooner you get that through your head the sooner you can go home and snuggle your boyfriend.”

#Larry Stylinson #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry shippers #larries #larry fic

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