#I have fics on there dating back to when I was 16 that I’m between deleting and saving.

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 17: FOREVER & FOR AFTER

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 16 | MASTERLIST | Epilogue (soon)

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: SMUT (oral m/f receiving, unprotected sex, praise, teasing, dirty talk), FLUFF (reconnection, personal growth, engagement), mild angst, alcohol mentions, food mentions, irl fire references, links for immersion wc: ~13.4k 💌: this couple has wrecked me. until next time ❤️ song inspo: For Us x dvsn (highly recc listening to feel the vibes)

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly in the empty tunnel, with the occasional drip of rainwater landing somewhere off in the distance. Trent’s hand was intertwined with yours, leading you down to a different area you weren’t all that familiar with.

“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing at him while he led you down the hall. You pulled at his jacket that was draped over your shoulders to warm you up.

“Dressing rooms,” Trent replied casually. “I just need to grab my stuff. It’ll just be us. Everyone’s gone by now.”

You followed him curiously as the hall opened into a larger space. Trent pushed the door open and held it for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you stepped inside. The energy was still in the air despite no one else being around, it was almost eerie, but you wandered further in, trailing your fingers lazily along the polished benches of the dressing room until you stopped in front of one that made you feel an overwhelming sense of emotions. 

Isaac Y/L/N

You brushed your fingers over the nameplate, frozen in the realization you were having. It was weird seeing your brother’s name in the same dressing room as Trent’s.

The jacket slipped from your shoulders slightly as you sat down in Ziggy’s spot, giving you a clear view of the name Alexander-Arnold across the room. Trent was crouched down in front, going through his bag, but his eyes met with yours when he noticed you staring at him.

“You okay?” He asked carefully while adjusting from his crouch to sit in his seat across from you.

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I’m okay..it’s just weird seeing Z’s name in here. It’s like I blinked and he went from begging my parents to play football to being in the prem.”

Trent leaned forward in his seat, smiling back at you with his hands clasped loosely. “He earned it though. More than most.”

“I know…” you spoke softly, staring back at Trent. “This whole night has been insane honestly.”

Trent stayed quiet while studying your face, but then he leaned back and shifted his expression to a more vulnerable look.

“I almost left,” he said suddenly.

You tilted your head, giving him a confused look. “What? Left where?”

“Liverpool” Trent clarified. “I almost left Liverpool.”

“Why would you even think about doing that?” you asked, fiddling with the zipper from his jacket hanging over you.

He breathed out slowly, dropping his gaze to the floor before catching yours again. “I didn’t feel right.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “But you’re–”

Trent cut you off, letting out a subdued laugh through a soft breath, void of any humour. “I felt stuck, Y/N. I tried different hobbies, tried throwing myself into football..I even tried dating but nothing worked. It felt like I was just floating. I was moving through everything but nothing was moving through me, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, you weren’t sure if you truly did know, but the vulnerability in Trent’s voice kept you quiet.

“And I thought maybe a new city, new people, something shiny and different would make me feel alive again.” He admitted, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his jaw. “But even just thinking about it made me feel worse.”

You frowned at the thought of it all. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“I tried something else instead.” He glanced up at you with a small smile. “Therapy.”

You blinked in surprise. “Therapy???”

“Yeah,” he responded with a low chuckle. “Mo told me about this therapist...Dr. Ali. She called me out on all my shit, but she helped. A lot.”

Dr. Ali? My Dr. Ali??

Trent went on to describe a technique she used that 100% made you realize it was the same therapist that guided you through your own tangled mess of thoughts. You felt your jaw slack slightly, but you didn’t say anything, too stunned to interrupt him.

“Therapy made me realize I was running away from myself” Trent continued in a quieter voice. “Leaving wasn’t going to fix the fact that I didn’t know who I was without football. Or without…” He trailed off, meeting your eyes to complete his sentence. 

You swallowed hard, staring back into his eyes while your heart pounded against your chest, trying to process what he was saying. You were still stuck on the fact that he’d ever consider leaving, but the coincidence of having the same therapist without knowing it really threw you for a loop.

“I didn’t like it at first but therapy helped me work through a lot of shit even when I thought I did everything I could do here. But it wasn’t just that. Your brother helped me more than he’ll ever know.”

“Ziggy?” you added for clarification, as if you had any other brother besides him.

Trent gave you a soft smile. “Yeah. When he started training with us, he had that same spark he had when he hung around me at the park. He’s taller for sure, but he still looks like a kid next to us. Kind of reminds me of when I first started too.”

Trent’s words pulled at your heartstrings as you looked up at your brother’s nameplate and then back at Trent. “That’s sweet. He really looks up to you, T.”

Trent studied your face, baring into your soul from just a few steps away as he stood up and slowly made his way to you. “One day during a rough day at training, Ziggy gave me the same look you’re giving me right now and I knew I couldn’t leave.”

“What look?” you asked.

“Like you’re wondering if you made the wrong decision because you don’t know what happens next.” He cupped your chin with his warm palm, tilting your head up. He brushed his thumb over the corner of your bottom lip softly. “Like you’re trying to figure out if you should run away or just stay along for the ride.”

Trent’s eyes didn’t leave yours once as he kneeled down beside you, taking your left hand in his palm. He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss below the knuckle of your ring finger. “That day, I knew I couldn’t leave. And I’m glad I didn’t because if I did...I wouldn’t be here with you right now. Everything always leads me back to you.”

He wasn’t wrong though. Every wrong turn and every miss had both of you still orbiting around each other, even if it wasn’t visible. You felt fluttering in your chest that spread down to the pit of your stomach. The words Trent intentionally spoke encased you in warmth you weren’t sure you would ever feel again. The memory of the past two years filled with shedded tears, aches of missing him, and nights spent staring at your phone wondering if you should unblock him seemingly faded away like a polaroid in reverse, peeling back darkness until the colors redeveloped to lift the shadows and create an image that was now bathed in sunlight.

“Y/N..” Trent started again after your silence continued. “I’ll knit the threads of fate myself until they spell your name. I love you intentionally and I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you.”

You smiled softly, feeling the corners of your lips tremble as you tilted your head toward him, whispering.

“Then don’t.”

And just like that, neither of you did.

The time that followed felt like stepping into a long lost rhythm. It was natural and easy this time around, feeling entirely new and like a breath of fresh air. Both of you decided to take time and figure out what this version of your relationship would look like by intentionally keeping things private. You only shared with a tightly knit group of family and friends, choosing not to share your rekindling with the world. You didn’t post much on your own social media accounts after the fire, and Trent barely posted on any of his because all the moments he wanted to share were always with you.

Except he still used one account pretty regularly to document something special: Scentimental

The one you still had blocked.

Unbeknownst to you, Trent still used the burner account to document every note he tested while trying to help you finish the fragrance you originally started when you first met him. The one you just couldn’t quite figure out the missing piece to. The memory of the night you vented to him about it replayed in his head constantly. The two of you were lounging on your couch with the TV dimly lighting the room. You started with your head on his lap, but by the time you got so worked up about it, you were sitting upright, motioning your hands around like you were in a meeting.

“I don’t know what to add and it’s pissing me off..” you sighed in frustration. “Everything I’ve tried smells nice, but it’s not it. I want it to smell like how we feel when we’re together. Like–like…”

“Like what?” Trent asked while leaning forward to listen.

You pressed your lips together to try and find the words. “Like warmth. But not the cozy kind. I want it to feel happy, bright, and alive.”

“Like when you wake up the first morning on holiday near the beach?” he suggested with humour in his tone.

You laughed, slightly intrigued but not yet ready to battle with the pride of figuring it out yourself. “Maybe. But not just that. It’s for us so I want it to feel like us. Like everything we’ve ever been through.”

From that day forward, Trent made it his mission to quietly log his attempts on his burner page. You had no idea he was sneaking random bottles into the house, testing scent strips at the training centre or in hotel rooms, each clip tagged with short captions for note taking.

In one video, he wafted a tester strip in front of the camera and sniffed it while frowning. “Smells spicy. Too spicy.” Another clip showed a failed attempt of using a smoky tobacco note. “This shit smells like a cigar lounge. Y/N would hate this.”

One day, he uploaded a final video clip. The view wobbled as Trent adjusted the camera and leaned into the frame holding a vial of gold benzoin liquid he ordered from southeast Asia. “I think this is it” he said while dabbing some of the liquid on his wrist to sniff it. His eyes shut for a few seconds as he took in the notes, and when they opened again, a golden smile spread across his face. “Yeah, this is the one.” He held the vial up to the light, inspecting it with a newfound sense of clarity. “It’s warm and sweet like a honeyed vanilla, but not too strong. It feels like us…like serendipity.” Trent placed the vial on the table with a clink, leaning back in his chair and dragging his fingers over the stubble on his jawline. The camera kept recording as Trent stared off, lost in thought. The faint sounds of outside traffic filled the silence until he let out a quiet sigh, reaching for the hotel notepad on the desk. When the pen hit the paper, the first few lines came slowly as he crafted the words that were running through his head for a long time. His handwriting was a bit messier by the time he hit the third line, spilling out his thoughts faster than his hand could keep up with.

When he finally finished, he held the paper in front of him and read it back to himself with a faint crease in his brow, then he ripped it from the pad, carefully folding it and tucking it into his pocket with a soft chuckle. Trent glanced at the camera again, twitching his lips into an awkward smile. “Alright, so…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before continuing again. “I’m pretty sure this is it.” He picked up the vial of benzoin and rolled it between his palms before setting it back down. “But now it’s on me to do the other part.”

He paused hesitantly, but then continued. “I’m gonna ask Y/N to marry me.”

Trent fiddled with the pen in his hand, looking away from the camera as he took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages and I’ve had this ring–” He stopped himself, laughing in a self-deprecating way. “I don’t even wanna say how long I’ve had it because it’s embarrassing but it’s just…”

His voice grew smaller again, as he glanced at the vial again before speaking. “It’s mad, innit? She’s my person. I know it..I’ve always known it. But now that it’s actually time to ask her, I’m bricking it.” Trent blinked up at the ceiling as his eyes became glossed with tears. He took a deep exhale through his nose. “What if she says no though? Then what?” he whispered more to himself than to the camera, but then he shook his head like he was trying to shake the thought. “Nah. Nah. She won’t say no. She can’t say no. We’ve come too far, right?”

Trent laughed quietly, wiping his thumb discreetly under his eye. “I sound like one of those lads in the Love Island confessionals right now. Why am I speaking to a camera about this?” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. After another stretch of silence, he looked directly into the camera with a face that can only be described as terrified, but very deeply in love.

“I just hope she says yes” he said softly with a hesitant smile, tapping his finger over his screen to end the recording before he could get any more emotional about it. The weeks that mirrored the videos he posted were filled with small, but intentional steps to build your forever. While Trent was secretly testing notes, the two of you were creating memories to match, each one more beautiful than the last.

One night, after the twins said they’d be out late, you and Trent decided to seize the rare opportunity to spend a quiet night together. The two of you lounged in the bonus room upstairs, which was mostly meant to be a ‘man cave’ for Ziggy, but somehow turned into a more communal space for everyone in the house. You had a blanket draped over your lap, ready to watch a show called Giri/Haji �� a Japanese-British crime drama you knew he’d love.

“What’s this about again?” he asked as the show started playing.

You cuddled up next to Trent, giving him the rundown as the Netflix sound played. “It’s about this detective named Kenzo who’s trying to find his brother in London but it’s not the typical cop drama. It has all these family dynamics and it switches between Japanese and English. Trust me, it’s good.”

“I trust you.” Trent chuckled, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around you. Neither of you paid attention for long. Somewhere between the opening scenes and Kenzo’s arrival in London, Trent’s hands slipped under the blanket draped over you, tracing slow, lazy patterns on your thigh, edging higher and higher until you shivered, but not from being cold.

“Trent…” you whispered, trying to sound stern, but the minute his lips grazed over your neck you lost all composure.

“Mm?” he murmured while his fingers fully explored the curves and crevices of your body.

You tilted your head back, moaning softly. “I want you so bad right now…”

Trent grinned against your skin, stamping his words on your neck. “C’mere then.” Just as his lips crashed into yours, footsteps thudded up the stairs. You didn’t hear any of it between the noise of the TV and your thoughts drifting in and out of a lust filled haze.

“Hey!” Ziggy’s voice boomed through the staircase. “We’re ba–”

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, yanking the blanket higher so he wouldn’t see where Trent’s hands currently were.

“I fucking knew it!” he exclaimed, turning the lights back on with a lot of dramatics. “You’re both disgusting. Is this what you do when we’re gone? Out in the open?? Right in front of my bedroom???”

“Get out!” you glared at your brother while Trent discreetly fixed your clothing. 

“Nah, I’m staying” Ziggy answered smugly, plopping his body directly between the two of you on the couch.

Trent sighed heavily, running his hand over his face because the twins cockblocking your alone time was becoming increasingly more common. “Bro, don’t you have something better to do?”

“Nope, not really,” Ziggy replied with a grin, grabbing controllers from his gaming setup. “Mario Kart, anyone?” Much to your dismay, Ezzie appeared a few minutes later, holding a bag of snacks with a grin. “Sorry to interrupt. Mind if I squeeze in?” She flopped on the couch next to Ziggy with her own controller, creating a twin barricade.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning out of frustration. “Why are you both here? You said you were going to be out late!”

Ezzie shrugged, popping some snacks into her mouth. “Change of plans. The vibe at the club was off. So…are we playing or what?”

Trent gave you a smirk as he grabbed two controllers and handed one to you, making you roll your eyes in playful annoyance. Despite the twins’ precise interruptions, your nights with Trent were still full of lots of love and quiet moments for connection. The time you spent with him was the happiest you’d ever been. When Trent had more time off from football, you explored some of the world’s most beautiful, hidden corners. 

In the Dominican Republic, you found yourselves in the secluded beauty of Playa Ermitaño in Samaná. The journey to get there was its own adventure and included boarding a tiny boat that skidded across the Caribbean water and past lush green cliffs that jutted out of the sea. You teased Trent the whole way, watching him clutch the side of the boat every time it rocked too hard against a wave.

“Not a fan of the ride, are you?” you asked, laughing just as another small splash hit his face.

“The boat could be bigger, no? I feel like I’m gonna slip off!” he yelled out, gripping the railing tighter when a bigger wave hit.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, tugging on his arm to pry him off the railing. “Relax baby. We’re fine. It’s not that deep.”

“Literally or figuratively? Cause both are mad for you to say to me right now.” he muttered while gripping the railing as another wave rocked the boat.

By the time you reached the shore, the sight of the beach was enough to make him forget the ride. The sand was soft, white, and stretched into a crescent shape, framed by tall cliffs and thick greenery. The water was clear enough to see coral reef down below, and the only sounds were the small lap of waves and occasional rustle of palm trees swaying in the breeze. A small group of locals greeted you with smiles, offering you plates of traditional food like grilled fish in banana leaf and fried plantains. After your meal, you coaxed Trent into a calm and shallow edge of water near the shore. He stepped in hesitantly, keeping close to where his feet could touch the sand.

“So you’re really not going to swim?” you asked, floating just a few doggy paddles away.

“I’m in the water. That’s swimming, yeah?” he argued, gesturing around him like standing in waist deep water counted as swimming.

“No..you’re wading. There’s a difference.” You swam closer, kicking your legs as you leaned forward to rest your hands on his shoulders. “Don’t worry, T. I’ll save you if a Caribbean mermaid pulls you under.”

“Baby..don’t even joke like that” he muttered, staring at the saltwater clinging to your skin. Something about the way the sunlight glistened off your wet skin caught his attention even more, and his hands found your waist under the water, pulling you closer while you wrapped your legs around him. “You look so sexy in this bikini baby. Need to take it off of you.” His voice dropped to a tone only you could hear as he brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth.

“Do you?” you whispered back teasingly, grinning while your hands trailed from his shoulders to the back of his neck. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned up against a shallow rock, hidden from view by the cliffs and the water lapping at your thighs. You broke apart when you heard some laughter from another group arriving on the beach and Trent groaned, resting his lips on your neck. “Saved by the tourists” you teased while smoothing your hand over his damp curls. You pushed off of him and back into the water as he watched you swim away with amused and slightly frustrated smile on his face.

In Greece, you explored more secluded islands that felt like old Greece. These trips weren’t the Mykonos and Santorini tourist spots you saw on every influencer’s feed. Instead, you hopped around small slices of paradise like Lipsi and Donoussa where the locals and village cats outnumbered the visitors, and luxury yachts were far and few between.

After a day of wandering around cobblestone streets, you found yourselves in a taverna tucked behind a row of olive trees. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of lemon and oregano from the kitchen as the two of you sat under the glow of hanging lights above you, drinking ouzo and laughing like you were the only two people that existed in the world.

“You’re gonna hate this” Trent grinned, holding up his glass of ouzo.

You tilted your head, confused. “What? Why? It tastes fine to me.”

“Nah, not that. What I’m about to say..” he replied, grinning while leaning back in his chair. Trent gestured around the taverna, swishing the ouzo in his glass. “The food, the drinks, the old man who just served us like we’re his family..it’s nice, innit? Good vibes.”

You narrowed your eyes, cutting your eyes at him as you caught on. “What are you on about?”

“I’m saying we could live here” Trent’s smile grew wider. “Just drop everything and buy a house in a little village with whitewashed walls. You could make perfumes from olives or something. I’ll teach kids football and...uh..I don’t know? Fish or something.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “T.. you can barely swim and I don’t think olive tree perfume is a thing.”

“Not yet,” he countered with a smirk. “But if anyone can make it a thing, it’s you. And I don’t have to swim that far. I’ll just catch some little fish for dinner. Bare hands.”

You snorted, shaking your head at his nonsense. “Mhmm. And I’ll sell my olive perfumes to the two tourists that accidentally end up here every year.”

“Yeah, exactly.” he nodded like you just made his point. “The simple life. Just us. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

As ridiculous as the idea sounded, that little life sounded intriguing, even if it wasn’t all that possible. You looked at his softly illuminated face over the rim of your glass as his smile curved into something just as bright as the Mediterranean sun.

“You would go mad after two weeks” you teased.

“Yeah.. probably,” he admitted, laughing. “But it’d be a good two weeks.”

You smiled, leaning forward to rest your chin on your hand as you stared at him. “I think I like this little life we’re building though. Even if it’s not here.” 

And just like that – the ouzo, the sea breeze, and the little taverna existed just for the two of you.

Eventually, you finally made your way to the villa in St. Barts you were supposed to travel to around the time Les Notes d’Amour burned down. It looked like paradise, but calling it paradise might’ve been a little unfair to Trent, who was sprawled out on the bed, completely wrecked and staring at the ceiling like he was praying for some type of intervention after the multiple rounds you had.

“I can’t baby. I’m finished,” he muttered in a tired voice.

You were on top of him, not taking his answer seriously. “T, you said that last time and then you started it up again.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure this time.” 

The two of you explored every crevice of the villa in ways that could never make it to any booking listing the moment you arrived. The outdoor shower with the view of the ocean was the first stop, followed by the pool deck, the plush couch in the main lounge, against the trunk of a palm tree, over the balcony, and finally the bed in the master suite. Not to mention the quick detour against the marble counter in the bathroom before your dinner reservations, or the quickie you had bent over the outdoor kitchen area. But still, you were insatiable somehow.

“I need more,” you pleaded, running your nails down his chest.

Trent groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Baby, you drained me dry, literally. There’s nothing left. You won..I concede. Throw in the white flag or whatever you want me to do.”

You pouted, jutting your bottom lip out while leaning closer to brush your lips against his ear. “You don’t have anything left for me?”

Trent peeked at you from his hand and the guilty look on his face made you giggle. He was a mess with a sheen of sweat covering his upper body, and a look in his eyes that said he would if he could, but he really couldn’t. “Baby..I swear if I had anything left you’d get it.” he promised in a soft voice. “But you tapped me out. I can’t even get it up anymore, I tried. I’m fucking knackered.”

You sighed, shifting to lay on his chest while his fingers trailed down your back. “Do you think it would be any different if we came here when we were supposed to?” you asked in a muffled voice against his skin.

Trent wrapped his arm around you to hold you closer. “Nahhh..it wouldn’t have felt like this.”

You lifted your head to meet his eye. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we weren’t us then. Not like this, anyway.” He paused to kiss your forehead. “This feels right. Like it was lined up the way it was meant to.”

“You’re too sweet. I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“Yes you do, Y/N,” he replied with no hesitation. “You deserve all of this, and I’m gonna spend every day making sure you know it.” You smiled, tracing your first initial, adding ‘AA’ at the end on his chest absentmindedly. You were finally thinking about it, but you didn’t know if you were ready for it. Every holiday you went on, you thought he may finally pop the question, but he never did. It didn’t bother you all that much, you were enjoying spending quiet moments alone with him – even if you were daydreaming about marrying him increasingly more often. You looked back up at Trent, who was now passed out after his exhaustion caught up to him. You stayed there, pressing your ear against his chest as the rhythm of his heartbeat created melodies with the crash of ocean waves from the shore, lulling you to sleep. You were comfortable, even if neither of you put an official title on what was next – every holiday, late night convo, and quiet minutes spent together felt like steps forward.

A few months later, you and Trent were seated at a conference table for a meeting with your architect as you stared at a huge blueprint of your future home. 

“Alright, so I was thinking this area here," Trent said, tapping on the living room section with his finger, “should be open enough to add a trophy display. Something with lights and glass. I want it to be the first thing people see when they walk in.”

You squinted at the plans with a frown creeping on your face. “A trophy area? Are you serious? In the living room like a museum??”

“Nah, it’s not a museum baby.” Trent looked somewhat offended that you were shooting his suggestion down. “Where else am I supposed to put my Ballon d’Or when I win it?”

You couldn’t help it; the laugh burst out of you. “Riiight, because that’s right around the corner.”

Trent snapped his head to you, smirking while also giving you a glare. “When I win, you’ll be the one polishing it.”

“Um, no. I’m not your maid.” You shook your head and leaned forward to study the plans again. “And if you get to have a space for your trophies, then I’m getting a fragrance room. You don’t need a whole room to hold a few trophies.”

“A few?” he repeated in an offended tone. “I have more than a few and I’ll be getting loads more.”

The architect, a patient older man with greying hair, was listening to all of your bickering but he eventually cleared his throat to intervene. “Maybe we can consider a multipurpose space? Something that can display his awards but also house other elements like art or personal collections?”

“Or fragrances” you interjected with a cheeky grin, knowing Trent was probably rolling his eyes next to you.

“Fine,” Trent dramatically sighed, leaning back in his chair. “As long as the gym stays. I need that for work.”

You scoffed as you eyed the massive size of the home gym on the blueprint. “Trent.. you literally train at AXA every day. You don’t need a huge gym at home too.”

“Yeah, but AXA doesn’t have you walking around in leggings and tiny tops” he smirked, making you playfully shove him. “I need enough mirrors in there so I can see that.”

“Flirting with me isn’t going to change my mind” you countered back while trying to hide the smile creeping up on your face.

The architect stepped in again and shifted the conversation back to something more practical. “We can scale the gym down a bit and allocate the space for a nursery in the future? Or a dual purpose area?” 

The mention of a nursery made both of you go quiet. You looked at Trent, who had a soft expression on his face. “Yeah... a nursery. I like that idea.”

You took a deep breath, not sure if you were ready to start prepping for babies that didn’t exist yet, so you switched the conversation back to the gym to mask the emotions you felt. “You’re just lifting weights, T. I don’t get why you need a gym here.”

Trent leaned in closer to you, smirking as he loudly whispered in your ear. “You don’t complain when I have to lift you up and help you when you get tired on top.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you whispered back just as loud, trying to hide the secondhand embarrassment you got from your man mentioning that in front of some greying old man. The architect coughed into his hand, pretending he didn’t hear anything, but you knew he probably heard it all.

After what felt like hours of going back and forth – arguing over color schemes (you vetoed Trent’s suggestion of an all grey scheme), kitchen appliances (he insisted he needed an espresso machine even though he barely drank coffee), and the location of the dining room (closer to the garden was your compromise) – you finally reached an agreement that put a smile on everyone’s face.

The architect made note of the updates with a satisfying nod. “I think we finally have a solid plan here. You’ll both be very happy.”

You leaned back in your chair, looking over at Trent who was taking pictures of the plan with his phone. “You know…” you tapped your fingers on the table, ready to egg him on from all the terrible design ideas he had. “I could probably just buy you out of your contract with how much money I make now from Rêveur. Then you wouldn’t need a gym at all..”

Trent shook his head, laughing at you. “You think you’re that rich, huh?”

“Baby…” you grinned smugly. “I know I am.”

He laughed, reaching to hold your hand. “Good thing I’m with you then. Got a sugar mama already in case shit goes south.”

“Absolutely the fuck not” you argued back while the architect packed up his things.

When the meeting wrapped, you looked over plans one last time, imagining what it would look like when it was finally done. It wasn’t just any house anymore. This was a home – yours, his, and maybe someday, a little more.

Another night on a full moon, you and Trent found yourselves at Lovebirds – a favorite escape whenever Trent managed to carve free time out of his busy schedule. But eventually, going there turned into a monthly ritual. The restaurant was silent except for the occasional clink of a pan in the kitchen. Trent booked it out just for the two of you and your favorite chef who made you her official guinea pigs for experimental dishes she wanted to add to the menu.

“Okay, lovebirds” she called from the kitchen, her voice carried over your date night playlist you asked her to play over the sound system. “You’re on dish duty tonight. You can’t keep getting off this easily if you’re going to keep me here all night. I don’t care if he’s a footballer.”

You smirked at Trent as the chef appeared with a tray of ingredients. “Think you can handle it, T? Or are you going to burn something again?”

“First of all, that was ONE time. You can’t blame me for that, the oven timer was way off.”

The chef laughed while setting the tray down. “The oven timer was fine, Trent. You were just too busy staring at Y/N to notice your soufflé collapsing and burning to a crisp.”

You laughed loudly, watching Trent shake his head. He wouldn’t admit it was his fault, but he was supposed to be on oven duty that night. “She’s lying” he said while nudging your knee under the table.

“She’s not” you teased, standing up to pull him with you to the open kitchen. “Let’s see if you can redeem yourself baby.” The chef handed you each a spoon and started yelling instructions like you were both her actual employees, though she wasn’t being all that serious and was more amused than anything. The night’s experiment was a roasted aubergine spread with pomegranate molasses.

“Mix it slowly Y/N” the chef instructed. “And Trent, chop those herbs really fine. No big chunks…got it?”

“Yes, Chef” you both said in unison as you got to work. You were concentrating, but when you eyed Trent’s attempts at chopping the herbs ‘fine’, you giggled. “T, those aren’t fine. You barely chopped those.”

He held up his uneven pile of herbs. “I did chop them. It’s….rustic. You’ll love it.” 

“It’s lazy” you retorted while reaching over to take the knife from him. “Here, I’ll show–”

Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Trent snatched the spoon from your bowl and dipped it into the aubergine spread you were mixing after quickly adding the herbs. “T! That’s not ready yet!” 

Trent couldn’t care any less and popped the spoon into his mouth, humming dramatically. “Nah, it’s good. Perfect even. Probably because I chopped the herbs.” You groaned but couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you swatted his arm. The chef laughed from the other side of the counter, muttering under her breath about how hopelessly in love the two of you were.

A few minutes later, you leaned over to taste the spread, licking the side of your spoon and catching some of the sauce on your lip without realizing it. Trent noticed instantly and leaned in close with a playful look in his eyes. 

“Don’t move” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your lip.

You froze and your eyes snapped to him as he leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth, very intentionally. When he pulled back, he swept his tongue across his lips like he was savoring the taste.

“What was that for?” you asked a little breathier than intended.

“You had sauce on your lip” Trent said nonchalantly, going back to his chopping like nothing happened.

You frowned, touching your lip. “No, I didn’t.”

He smirked without looking up. “Yeah.. you did.”

The chef yelled from the other side of the kitchen to interrupt your little moment. “If you two are done flirting now, I’d like to eat before the next full moon!” You smiled, turning back to the spread while Trent was still smirking with his eyes dancing over to yours every couple of minutes. By the time you sat down to eat, the aubergine spread was perfect, even with all the distractions. The chef declared it her new favorite and sent you home with a jar of it as a thank you for being her “favorite disaster couple.”

All the memories you spent with Trent stayed fresh in your mind, but time waited for no one, and before you knew it – Camille’s wedding day was here. There were months of planning, fittings, reasoning with her through bridezilla meltdowns, and trying to talk her out of a custom drone show for the occasion. When you finally arrived at the countryside venue, you had to admit her and Jules really outdid themselves.

As the maid of honour, you stood by Camille’s side through every meticulously timed minute of the ceremony, dressed in an elegant sage gown – because apparently laurel wasn’t the move anymore. You focused on Camille for the most part, but you felt the unmistakable pull from Trent’s presence somewhere in the crowd of people. You didn’t dare look at him directly, but you could feel his eyes on you like a magnet. Having Trent there didn’t make you as nervous, even as Camille whispered a frantic “don’t cry or you’ll make me cry and our pictures will be ruined” under her breath. 

You were a crier at weddings. 

A big one.

The ceremony moved in slow motion as every vow and violin string stretched the minutes. You were so focused on not crying that by the time Camille and Jules finally kissed and the applause came, you let out a deep breath and caught yourself glancing toward Trent for the first time. He wasn’t clapping; his hands were resting in his lap, but his face held a certain look of love that made you want to be next to him immediately. The entire time he was never focused on Camille and Jules – his eyes were on you.

Hours later, the reception party popped off with a bang. Drinks were flowing in every corner and people on the dance floor were having the time of their lives rapping along to a Kendrick Lamar song Jules just had to have the DJ play. You successfully delivered your speech afterwards with a little liquid courage and managed to not trip over your words or burst into tears which was a win in itself. At some point, Camille insisted on you joining the bouquet toss despite not wanting to participate at all. You were drunk off your ass and too busy trying to act as normal as possible. When she threw it you weren’t even paying attention. One minute you were laughing at something Jules’ cousin said, and the next – the bouquet smacked you in the chest before you even had time to realize what was happening, catching it in your arms instinctively. Everyone in the reception area cheered for you and Camille squealed from across the room.

“It’s a signnn!” she yelled while clapping, which sobered you up instantly.

“Of course this would only happen to me” you muttered under your breath, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt from all the attention. People at the wedding knew you and Trent were exes at one point, but no one but a few knew you had been back together for a long while. You were hoping no one would catch on.

Later, you found Trent grinning ear to ear while sitting at a table off to the side in a quiet corner. “Didn’t know you were so competitive” he teased as you sat down beside him.

“I wasn’t even trying!” you argued while holding the bouquet up. “This thing attacked ME. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, sure...” he dragged the words out with a sly smirk. “The bouquet jumped out of Camille’s hands and landed in yours. Unless you have powers like Matilda, I don’t know about that, baby.” You rolled your eyes because that’s exactly what happened, but then you started laughing – courtesy of the champagne you had in your other hand.

The night kept going until you and Trent ended up on the balcony in the cool night air. The venue’s garden stretched out below, bathed in the moonlight as you leaned against the railing. Trent was next to you, nursing his own glass of champagne because he was way too drunk for his own good.

“You know what this means now, right?” he asked, keeping his eye on you.

“What means what?” You squinted at him in confusion.

“The bouquet” he gave you a pointed look. “You caught it, so now I have to marry you.”

You snorted, turning to face him fully. “So that’s how this works? A bridal bouquet decides my entire future?”

“Tradition is tradition.” Trent set his champagne down on a decorative table and drunkenly dropped to one knee.

“T..what are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“Fulfilling our destiny” he slurred, holding your hand up like he was ready to decorate it with an invisible ring. “Y/N, will you –”

“Get up!” you cut him off, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Baby, you’re sooo drunk right now.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts” He dropped his voice as he stood up to slide his free arm around your waist while the other still held on to your hand.

“You’re going to be embarrassed when I tell you about this tomorrow morning” you giggled, tilting your head a little as his lips drunkenly trailed your skin with soft, lazy kisses.

“You have no idea” he kissed your neck again, but this time his next words were very slurred and too indecipherable. “I’m planning it all right now and you have no idea.”

A couple months later, Trent sat at Camille’s dining table, resting his hands on both sides of a small custom box he couldn’t stop messing with. Camille was sitting in her chair drinking a smoothie filled with vitamins now that her wine drinking days were temporarily retired. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to ask her. I didn’t have that on my bingo card this year” she teased while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The man who takes forever to make decisions is finally going to propose to my best friend?” 

Trent leaned back in the chair, running a hand down his face in annoyance. “Are you going to help me or just chat shit the whole time I’m here?”

“Both” Camille replied frankly, smirking and folding her arms. “Why do you look so nervous?”

Trent hesitated while tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m scared shitless. What if she’s not ready?”

Camille laughed as she took another small sip of her smoothie. “If you wait until she’s completely ready you’ll be proposing when you’re both dead. Y/N is never going to give you a sign that says ‘hey i’m ready now’. But I’m sure she’ll say yes..I’ve seen her Pinterest boards.”

“Pinterest? She has wedding stuff saved?”

Camille nodded. “She’s fully planned out your lives for the next 5 years. Just don’t do anything stupid like big balloons in a hotel room or writing it on a plate with chocolate. She’ll definitely say no if you do that.”

“Nah, none of that. I already planned it out.”

“Oh?” Camille inquired, leaning forward. “What’s your plan, dreamer boy?”

Trent cut his eyes at Camille as he pulled out a notebook that looked like it saw better days at some point in time. “How do you know about that name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Camille laughed, leaning forward curiously.

Trent flipped to a page covered in lots of scribbles, some crossed out and others underlined with confirmation. “I gotta finish this fragrance she was working on when we first met,” he explained. “I want to add benzoin. It reminds me of us whenever I smell it.”

Camille smiled in awe from the amount of intention he placed in preparing this for you. “You really thought all this through, huh?”

He nodded, closing the notebook. “I need your help bottling it though. It has to be perfect for her.”

“Couldn’t you do it yourself?” she tried to tease, but her lash line was watering and threatening to spill over.

“Nah, not me. I want it to be right. You’re the only other person I trust with this besides her.” Trent admitted while sliding a custom box toward her. When Camille opened it, there were three cutouts, each engraved with celestial symbols – the sun, moon, and an eclipse. Trent carefully placed a bottle of Rêveur into the sun’s slot, then he placed a bottle of Vanille Étoilée he took from your personal collection in the moon’s cut out. Trent handed Camille a third bottle he designed for the new fragrance.

“It’s called Serendipité,” he added in a low tone.

Camille traced the bottle’s engraving with her thumb and then looked up at Trent. “And where is all of this happening?”

“Maui” Trent answered quickly. “Long flight but it’ll be worth it for her.”

Camille cocked her eyebrow. “That’s super far...why Maui?”

Trent rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a long winded breath. “It’s the best place on earth for us to watch the sun set and the moon rise. And it’s calm. No one will bother us there.”

Camille blinked a few times as her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed, waving her hands in front of her face like it would stop her tears from spilling over.

“Whoa..what did I say?” Trent asked, confused at why she suddenly broke into tears. 

Camille dabbed at her eyes, sighing with a watery laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just.. I’ve never seen this part of your relationship with her. You’re so nervous and thoughtful about it and it’s–” She paused, biting her lip as another wave of tears erupted. “She’s so happy Trent. And I’m so glad you both finally got it right. That’s all. Don’t mind me.”

“Camille…”

“Don’t” she pointed at him through her tears. “Do not make me cry any more than I already am. I’m all over the place right now. Just take care of her okay? You already are, but keep it up.”

Trent nodded, giving Camille a side hug. “Always.” Camille took a deep breath, wiping away the rest of her tears as she took the bottle and added the last note. “And make sure her nails are done before you ask or she’s going to kill you.” 

Trent laughed, reaching for the box as Camille slid the finished bottle across the table. “Got it. Thanks for the heads up.” He placed the final bottle into its spot in the box. Camille absentmindedly placed a hand over the small bump appearing on her stomach, hesitating before she finally spoke up.

“You two can’t keep going on holiday around the world like this. I’m gonna need my best friend for moral support and both of you as babysitters a few months from now.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just focus on your proposal, dreamer boy” Camille cut him off with a smile, still protectively cradling her small baby bump.

--

As time ticked by, you got closer to your forever, but you would have never guessed the way it came.

Trent insisted on pampering you one day, so you sat in the nail salon, scrolling through your phone for nail ideas as Ezzie gandered at the wall of polishes. She was always quicker than you when it came to choosing – you could sit there for hours trying to choose between two options. Which was why you were still sitting with sample swatches fanned out in front of you, paralyzed by indecision.

“I don’t think you should go with summer colors” Ezzie broke through the tip taps of you on your phone. She squinted at one of the options in front of her.

“What? Why not? You told me summer pastels were in right now!” You held up the sample swatches so she could see them. “You don’t like any of these? What about ‘Sucre Dreamer’? That’s a cute nail color!”

Ezzie made a face. “I mean it is cute...but I think you should try something different.” She wanted to throw you off as much as possible so you wouldn’t suspect anything. “Try this one instead.” She grabbed a bottle of polish from the wall, a soft nude that complimented your skin tone well. She flipped the bottle over to show the name, making her face light up. “It’s called ‘Forever and After’. That’s so fitting.”

“Fitting for what? A wedding I’m not having?”

“Nooooo...who said anything about a wedding? That’s madness…” she wanted to sway you away from any sort of engagement or wedding talk. “But I think it’ll look amazing on you. Just trust me on this.”

You looked at her skeptically, but eventually handed the bottle to the nail tech, “Fine but if I hate it, you’re never picking my nail colors again.”

Ezzie sat back down next to you, crossing her legs and smiling while the nail tech added the color to your nails. “You’re gonna love it.”

The color was perfect once it was finally finished, and you weren’t deeping the name like your sister originally thought you would, thankfully. When you stepped out of the salon with Ezzie, you checked your phone. “Trent’s picking us up for brunch at Lovebirds,” you told Ezzie while checking the time. Just as you were about to ring him to let him know you were ready, another car pulled up and the window rolled down to reveal Jude’s smiling face, but he was in the driver’s seat this time.

“Ladies..”

“About damn time! You’re late!” Ezzie announced with an annoyed tone as she hopped into the passenger seat. She leaned over, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you get everything? Did you get their luggage?”

Jude nodded with a grin and you squinted at them in confusion. “Uh...what is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Jude got out of the car, opening the door to the back seat to let you in. “Hop in, passenger princess.” He couldn’t wait to use that against you. You rolled your eyes while sliding into the back seat, checking your phone for any texts from Trent, but there weren’t any. “I thought we were going to brunch?”

“We’re taking a little detour..” Jude confessed, driving farther and farther away from the restaurant.

“A detour to where exactly??” you asked, peering out the window in confusion. “I really don’t like surprises.”

Ezzie shifted her body to look at you in the backseat, smiling eagerly. “Well you’re going to love this surprise. Promise. Just hang tight.” Before you knew it, you arrived at the airport. From the distance, you could see Camille’s family jet in the private terminal gearing up for the runway, with Ziggy and Trent standing on one side, while Camille was standing on the opposite side, wearing a sundress that showed off her growing bump while she waved toward you enthusiastically. 

“Camilleee!” you squealed, running over to her to give her a hug. “Oh my days, you’re actually the cutest pregnant person ever for someone who swore up and down they were never having kids. You look gorgeous girl!”

“You next” Camille teased while hugging you back, but then she pulled away with a gasp, pressing her hand into her belly. “Oh! She’s kicking me. See? She agrees with me...she wants someone to play with when she’s out of here.”

You laughed, shaking your head no while waving your hand around. “Umm.. I think I’ll take a rain check on that for now.” You looked around, watching as Jude brought luggage to the jet. You glanced at Camille, then at Trent and the twins who weren’t offering any type of answer or explanation for why everyone was at the airport. “Seriously..what’s going on? I feel like everyone knows except for me..”

Ziggy, Trent, and Jude exchanged some looks while dapping each other up, covering their mouth with their hands while they talked in low voices you couldn’t hear. You looked back at Camille and Ezzie, waiting for some sort of an answer but both of them just grinned, gesturing for you to hop on the plane. Ziggy stood next to Trent, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, bro.”

Jude chimed in, throwing in wise words for one of his best mates. “Don’t fuck up and trip over your words. Just say it from the heart, that’s better than trying to memorize any speech.” 

After a few more words of encouragement from Jude, Trent walked up the steps, sitting next to you with a huge, but very nervous grin plastered across his face. You looked at him as the jet’s engines came to life, jetting down the runway to carry you off to the little town of Lahaina, meaning ‘cruel or merciless sun’ in Hawaiian, because no matter the weather, the sun would always find a way to shine there.

“Where are we going?” you asked Trent as the jet climbed higher into the sky.

“Anywhere” he replied simply, kissing your temple.

The private flight from England to Hawaii consisted of roughly 15 hours of watching the clouds in the sky until everything became endlessly blue beneath the plane. At some point, exhaustion took over and you drifted in and out of sleep against Trent’s shoulder. By the time the plane began its descent, you were so disoriented you didn’t know if it was morning or evening when Trent finally woke you up. You stepped out of the plane and into the warm Hawaiian breeze. The air felt sweet, carrying notes of saltwater and blooming plumeria and hibiscus flowers. The sun was beaming down, warming your skin in seconds as it casted it’s rays of sunshine over the island. Trent held your hand, leading you to the car as you took in the way the Hawaiian sun made his skin glow golden.

“T...why are we in Hawaii right now?” you asked while stepping into the car. “You didn’t tell me we were going on holiday again! Please, pleaseee tell me you didn’t pack my suitcase?? Oh my god...no.”

Trent laughed, hopping into the driver’s seat while starting the car. “Nah, that was all Ezzie and Camille.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, clutching your heart as he started the drive. You flipped between different radio stations until you found one playing a song called Saltwater Sweetness by Kolohe Kai, which seemed to fit the mood of the Pacific stretching out, sparkling underneath the sunlight on one side of the island while surfers held surfboards while running to the ocean. There were cars pulled off the road at random, passengers either chasing swells or snapping pictures of the scenery. Elevated greenery and low hanging clouds clinging to the mountains were on the other side of the island, painting a beautiful picture just below the blue sky. Banyan trees lined the streets for patches of shade over the roads as you took in the sacredness of the land. “This is breathtaking. It’s so pretty here.” you sighed in amazement, rolling your window down to let the wind breeze through the car.

Trent glanced at you quickly, mainly trying to keep his eyes on the road because there was nothing to save you if he happened to get distracted. “Wait until you see where we’re staying.”

As you drove from the north side of the island to the west, you pulled over at a local roadside stand from the smells of fresh banana bread wafting through the window. You followed Trent hand in hand to meet an older woman behind the stand who had dark hair that was beginning to silver.

“Aloha!” She greeted you with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Aloha,” you shyly replied, glancing at the loaves neatly wrapped in rows on display. “This smells so amazing, we had to stop for some.”

“Mahalo (thank you)” the woman gave you another smile, more weary this time. “Been selling here for years. It helps keep me busy.”

Trent picked up one of the loaves, juggling it in his hands, genuinely curious. “You make all of this yourself?”

“Every batch” she nodded proudly. “I used to sell from my house but the Lahaina fires took my house with it. So now I’m here as long as I can be.”

“I’m sorry to hear that..” Trent replied apologetically.

Your heart fell to your stomach. You knew exactly what that felt like. You caught a QR code taped to the side of the stand but then your eyes drifted to a teenage girl off to the side, behind the stand watching over two younger kids while they kicked a ball around. The girl looked up at you and gave you a faint smile with heavy eyes. You eyed the QR code again, nudging Trent gently to catch his attention too. Once he noticed, he pulled out his phone without another word and scanned the code, entering a large sum. He turned the screen toward the woman and her hand flew to her chest when she read the number he entered.

“Ke Akua pu (bless), thank you,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “You didn’t have to–”

“It’s nothing,” Trent interrupted in sincerity, but also with a cheeky wink. “Just paying for our banana bread. I bet it tastes as good as it smells. Thank you for this.”

“Better” she replied more steadier. “Aloha ‘oe (bye, much love to you). Be safe and remember to leave nothing but your footprints! Respect the āina (land)”

You and Trent headed back to the car, fighting for pieces of banana bread that tasted even more amazing than the smell of it, which was already hard to beat. When you finally arrived at the hotel, you were beyond tired. You dragged to your suite with tired footsteps, smelling the faint scent of plumeria in the air. When Trent opened the door you wanted to plop down on the bed immediately, but you walked over to peer out the windowed door of the large balcony, catching glimpses of the outdoor lobby below that had a lush gardens, oasis pools, koi ponds, flamingos, and was steps away from a breathtaking beach.

“Do you want to check out the beach?" Trent asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

You glanced at your phone to check the time and groaned. “It’s nearly three in the morning back home. I’m so tired, T. Bed now..beach tomorrow.”

After freshening up, you both flopped onto the huge bed, falling asleep before the sun set. The next morning was spent at the beach after a short walk and you saw a local vendor selling Hawaiian shave ice. You ordered a pineapple, coconut and banana shave ice, insisting it had to be the best one, but you forgot how strong banana flavored things could be. Trent went for a passionfruit, orange, mango, and guava flavored shave ice. You took your spoon and tried to steal some of Trent’s but he pushed his shave ice away protectively.

“What are you doing?” he laughed, turning away from you when you attempted to steal some again. “Baby, you have your own!”

“But yours looks better,” you whined, leaning over to sneak some onto your spoon anyway. He shook his head, switching his flavor for yours because he knew once you tasted it you’d end up eating the rest of his anyway.

You spent most of the day relaxing until a big family loudly disrupted the normal sounds of the beach. You nudged Trent and pointed further down the beach at a family in all white matching outfits. The mum had a large vlogging camera in her hand, yelling at her kids to look natural while they posed for what was supposed to be an ‘unstaged’ video clip.

“Where do you think they’re from?” you asked, giggling at the mum’s attempts to wrangle five kids into one video shot.

“California. Gotta be” Trent answered without a doubt in his mind. “Those are influencers.”

You watched attentively as one of their kids stomped away from the mum after she yelled at him for not smiling enough. “No, that’s definitely Utah. Matching outfits, exactly five kids, everyone’s blonde, and they’re rich. Those are Mormon vloggers on holiday.”

Trent raised his sunglasses and tilted his head to look at you, squinting from the sunlight. “Yeah? What do you think their channel name is?”

You laughed and thought for a second. “Probably something really corny like LuckySevenFam”

The longer you people watched, the crazier the family became. You watched them litter the beach with random snack rubbish, try to touch baby sea turtles, and one of their many kids complained they were bored despite being in literal paradise. Once the mum finally got everyone in line for the picture, a rogue wave splashed onto their blinding white outfits making the kids scream, the dad shook his head, and the mum was fuming from her perfect shot being ruined. You turned to Trent with a look of disgust on your face as you continued eating the shave ice he traded with you. “Please tell me we’ll never turn into whatever that is.”

Trent tilted your head towards him with his hand and leaned in to kiss you. “Never.” When you finished the shave ice, you and Trent got up to throw it in the bin, picking up the family’s leftover snack rubbish in an effort to leave nothing but footprints behind. After finally leaving the beach for the day, you and Trent headed back to the hotel to get ready to catch the sun set on Mount Haleakala. While Trent was in the bathroom, he discreetly pulled out Serendipité and sprayed it on his pulse points before putting it back in its place in the box. When he came back out, you smelled it immediately and thought for a second, trying to figure out why it smelled familiar even though you never smelled it until now.

“T..what are you wearing?” you asked while spraying a perfume from one of Camille’s collections that she packed for you. “That doesn’t smell like Rêveur or anything I’ve made.”

Trent fidgeted around with a bag to hide the box, then he looked up and smirked at you. “Guess.”

“I don’t know..”

“Your guess is as good as mine then. I don’t know either.” he replied, taking your hand and heading out the door. That irritated you immediately and you rolled your eyes, annoyed while heading out.

The drive up Haleakala felt like a dream being painted in motion. The sky that was once vibrantly blue, shifted into soft pastels. Streaks of lavender and orange painted across the horizon with chunks of white clouds blending into the scene. The higher you drove up, the cooler the air got as the towns of Maui disappeared into the pillowy clouds that were now sitting below the car now that you were nearing the top. Trent’s hands tapped chaotically against the steering wheel and he was quiet and fidgety. Every now and then he would glance at you and smile. You figured maybe jet lag or the altitude was messing with his nerves, or maybe the winding roads leaving no room for any distractions. For a second you thought to yourself:

Wouldn’t it be funny if he proposed here?

But the thought quickly erased from your mind when you noticed how quiet Trent was.

“What are you thinking about?” You finally asked, turning to him. “You’re acting so strange.”

Trent’s fingers stopped tapping the wheel and he laughed, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Baby we’re one wrong move from falling off this volcano. I’m just concentrating on the drive.”

You crossed your arms, unhappy with his answer as you looked out the window at the landscape. Trent knew you were irritated with him and spoke up again, “I’ll tell you soon, Y/N. Just wait.”

“Wait for what?” you pushed with attitude, but his focus went back to the road and the conversation ended there. When you finally arrived at the top and stepped out of the car, the view took your breath away. The sky transformed to a vibrant orange color melting into deep shades of pink, blue, and violet. The doughy clouds stretched below and seemed close enough to touch and in that moment it was just you, Trent, and heaven on earth.

“I’ll never be able to describe this in words. It’s so beautiful up here” you whispered, barely audible from being so awe stricken at the view displayed and ever changing in front of you.

“Yeah. It is.” Trent spoke just as softly, but he wasn’t looking at the view at all – he was looking at you. He reached into a bag and pulled out an engraved box. The second you saw it you eyed him with a curious brow. 

“What’s this?” you asked, running your nude colored nails over the box when he handed it to you.

“Open it” he urged, stepping closer to you. “That should answer all your questions so I can finally ask mine.” You unclasped the magnet top from the box and recognized the two fragrances you cherished so much, but then you saw a third you didn’t recognize. The name Serendipité was scripted across the custom label and you pulled it out to bring it to your nose. The scent smelled exactly how you felt with Trent at this moment. Like a beaming sun in the heavens of earth with an ever changing backdrop.

“Trent..is this...?” you trailed off, unable to form words from the beautifully overwhelming view and such an intentional, loving gesture from your soon to be fiancé.

“I finished it,” he answered quietly. “You said you wanted it to feel like us..so I finished it. I wanted it to be perfect for you baby.”

Tears began spilling from your face and you shook your head, way too overwhelmed but very much in love. “It’s perfect, T. It smells just like–”

“Us.” he finished for you, stepping closer.

You were still holding onto the bottle, trying to process everything when you noticed him shift. Trent’s eyes reflected the sky through his pupils and by the time you snapped out of it, he dropped to one knee. You rolled your eyes in disbelief. “T..no. Get up. This isn’t funny anymore and it’s getting old.”

He laughed and took your hand in his. “Baby I can’t get up this time.”

“Wh-what?” you stuttered, glancing around but there was no one else in the area besides the two of you, the sun setting, and the moon peeking slowly over a cloud.

Ohmygod.

Trent took a deep breath and then began speaking. “From the day I met you, I knew you were something special and worth getting to know more. I’ll never regret sitting next to you that day. You changed my whole world, you made me realize things about myself I never thought possible. Every day I get to wake up and see your beautiful face is a day I’ll never take for granted ever again. You mean the world to me, YN. The time I spent away from you was the lowest I ever felt, and still somehow the universe led me right back to you. I never feel like I have enough time with you, but I want eternity with you. I bought this ring the same day you sent it to me because I knew I never wanted to spend my life with anyone else but you forever, and even after. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

When you saw him holding the ring in his hand you gasped, covering your mouth with your free hand as your other hand began shaking in his hand from excitement and pure adrenaline.

“Yes. Oui. Si. Ja.......How many more do I have to say before you put the ring on me?” you sniffled, impatiently waiting for him to slide it on your finger. Trent’s hands shook when he pulled the ring out to slide it onto your ring finger. He stood up, pulling you into his arms as you buried your face into his neck while still crying. He kissed your temple, your lips, and anywhere else he could reach.

“I love you, Y/N” he whispered against your skin.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” you replied with a kiss on his lips, both of you turning to watch the sky go from pastels to a twinkling night sky bathed in the moon’s bright light.

Later that night after a celebratory dinner, you and Trent walked back to the hotel room, but every few steps he would stop just to pull you close to him and kiss your neck, your shoulder and whisper ‘I love you’ in your ear.

“I can’t wait to get back to the room” he whispered into your ear in lust filled anticipation. His hand moved to your waist, squeezing the side of your hip. “You have no idea what calling you my fianceé is doing to me right now.”

You bit your lip, feeling butterflies swoon around in your stomach as his fingers continued to brush against the fabric of your dress.

“T..” you whispered when he nipped against your jaw. “We’re in the middle of the lobby.”

“So?” He gave you a cheeky grin, looking around but it was late and mostly everyone had returned to their rooms by now. “No one’s here. And you look way too beautiful right now."

You giggled, “Baby, I’m sure they have cameras. Calm d–” Trent silenced you with a kiss, entering the lift and walking you in backwards. Once he pressed the floor button, the ride up to the suite became almost unbearable from Trent sliding his hands down your back to your ass while continuing to kiss your shoulder and neck. When the door opened, he grabbed your hand and walked quickly to your suite, fumbling with his wristband fob to open the door. The second he got it open, he led you in and spun you around, bringing his lips to yours again as he walked you backward toward the bed. “I want to taste you,” he whispered against your lips while pulling down the straps of your dress to reveal your sun kissed skin. He removed your dress in a rush before removing his own clothes and laid on the bed, pulling you on top of him with a flip over so that you were straddling his chest from behind. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, smiling while biting down on your lip.

“You’re not shy,” he teased in a rough voice. “C’mere and sit, baby. I want all of you.”

You slowly lowered yourself on him but he had no patience and gripped your waist to pull you down to meet his tongue. Trent hungrily slurped over your pussy, jetting his tongue out to flick against your clit in a steady motion. Your head fell down while you slowly stroked his shaft up and down, feeling him stiffen against your palm. You peppered soft kisses on the tip of his dick and then wrapped your mouth around him, making him groan and thrust up a little.

“Fuck. Keep doing that.” he groaned against your skin before going back to lapping at you like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. You tried to push the intense feeling aside and focus on the way he twitched every time you massaged his balls while adding suctioned pressure on his cock. Both of you were battling to see who could make the other crash over the edge first, so you increased the suction and took him further in your mouth with tears obstructing your vision from your gag reflex as your head bobbed up and down. You moaned against his dick to drive him crazy and Trent’s hands gripped your thighs tighter while his tongue moved against your clit until you couldn’t think straight anymore. You thought you were winning when he let out a familiar sound that meant he was close, but he shifted gears and started fingering you while he attacked your clit. 

“Don’t stop, right there” you gasped, losing your rhythm as pleasure took over your body. Your hips rocked against his face needily, your moans loud. “T-Trent.. I’m – fuck, I’m–”

“Let me taste it, baby” he commanded, muffled against your skin while still lapping you up. “Cum for me.”

A cry tore through your throat as your body shook against him. You clenched your thighs around his head while he held you down with one hand, and raked his hands over your back to soothe you as you came down from your orgasm with the other hand. You had no time to recover before he flipped you back over to face him and gripped you to lift you up and position you above his cock so you could sink down on it.

“Stay on top for me?" he cooed while running his hands down your thighs to make you shiver. “I want to watch you.” You nodded and shifted to bend your knees on either side of him, bracing yourself against his chest as you bounced on top of him, filling the room with moans, gasps, and wet squelches. Trent’s hands ran up your body, trailing over your nipples and pinching them enough to make you whimper.

“So damn beautiful” he affirmed, never taking his eyes off you. “Look at my fianceé taking me so well. You feel so good baby... keep going.”

Your legs started to shake from the burn you were feeling from trying to keep up the pace. “T…I can’t.”

“Nah, keep going. I’ll help you.” Trent gripped your hips and lifted you up to thrust up into you, making you scratch at his chest from the deep strokes. When he sensed you were too tired to keep going, he pulled you to the edge of the bed and shifted your legs to the side, hiking one knee up to your chest for a fun angle. 

“Fuck” you moaned with a jaw drop when he slid into you. The snug fit paired with the depth was almost too much to bear, making you whine his name. He grinned and leaned down to kiss you before pulling back and increasing his pace. “You like the way I fuck you?” he asked, giving you deep strokes paired with nipple play.

“Yesss,” you gasped, gripping his forearms while your body arched up to him. “You fuck me so good, T.”

“You’re so pretty like this” he locked his eyes on yours, licking his lips. “All mine. Just like this. I’m gonna make you feel like this whenever you need it, beautiful.” You squeezed his dick with your muscles from his words and his face twisted in pleasure with a clenched jaw, heavy breathing, and concentration in his brows. Watching him lose himself inside you made you wetter as he thrusted harder.

“Babyyy” you moaned while dragging out the word in an attempt to warn him you were about to orgasm.

“I know,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. He pulled at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, breathing and groaning between kisses as he filled you up with white ropes of cum. The warm filling made you feel full and tipped you over, causing your pussy to squeeze his cock with a strong grip but he didn’t stop moving and continued to roll his hips up against yours until you were both thoroughly satisfied. You grinned into another kiss when he whispered “I love you” against your lips, eventually echoing the love back – full of emotion.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, T.”

The days spent in Hawaii after the engagement blurred into a montage of sun soaked heaven: lazy mornings spent walking the beach to catch the sun rise, hiking trails that twisted through the lush greenery of the island, the sticky sweetness of Hawaiian malasada donuts on your fingers, sipping mai tais with sand still clinging to your toes at a beach bar, helicopter rides to get a view of the whole island, and sunset sails while watching cliff divers leap from Black Rock at Ka’anapali Beach as a treasured nightly island ritual. Your time there floated through like a dream and before you knew it, you were back in England.

One night, you heard the patter of rain against the window while you and Trent laid in bed. He was cuddled up against your stomach with his eyes closed as you massaged circles into his scalp, making him hum.

“You okay?” you asked in a soft voice under the dim lighting.

“Head’s still banging” he spoke low, wincing from his exhaustion and dull aches. “This feels good though. Thank you, baby. I might just fall asleep right here.”

You smiled and leaned forward to place a kiss on top of his head. Your gaze drifted over to the bedside table where the photobook he created for your first anniversary lay. It was slightly worn on the spine from being opened and closed so much. You reached over to pick it up carefully, flipping through the pages while keeping one hand on Trent’s head to keep massaging it. You flipped through until you reached the photo of Ziggy and Trent smiling brightly in front of the camera while you and Ezzie were in the background, playing with daisy crowns. You shook your head, laughing softly.

“What’s funny?” Trent mumbled against your pajama top.

“Nothing” you answered quietly, turning the book slightly so he could see the picture you were looking at. “I just can’t believe you’ve been here this whole time and we never realized it until years later. It’s mad.” Trent cracked one eye open, glancing at the picture with a sleepy grin.

“Yeah? Would you have given me a chance when we were kids?” he asked, curiously.

“Mmm..I don’t know. Something about seeing you at the park used to annoy me…still does actually, but I can live with it now.”

Trent laughed, wincing a little from his headache. “Baby, that’s fucked up. I thought you were cute but Ziggy would never tell me anything about you. You were kind of weird though so maybe I wouldn’t give you a chance either.”

You giggled, flicking the back of his head with your thumb and index finger. “Careful. I’ll make this headache worse than it already is.”

“You give me enough of them already with the wedding planning” he bantered, shifting around to make himself more comfortable. “You’re lucky I love you.” His words trailed off as he fell asleep, and you continued to flip through the pages. Eventually you closed the book and placed it back on the bedside table. You lifted your left hand up to catch the sparkle of the diamond against the dim lighting. 

None of this was luck.

It was serendipity – a chance encounter that turned into forever and after.

[currentzconvulzive]

I’VE BEEN ON AO3 HOW LONG?

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ‘buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[alwaysbethewest]

TLOU fic: See Me After

Merry Christmas @auteurdelabre! I'm your Secret Santa for this year's @pedrostories exchange and I have a little gift for you 🥰 Most of my writing is light and fluffy so it was a fun challenge to get a prompt like forbidden relationships and figure out how to spin it, haha. I had already been thinking about sex pollen and then you told me you love that trope, so here we are. I hope you enjoy this, and that you have a very happy holiday!

Title: See Me After Pairing: Joel/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word count: 2.4k Content/warnings: Pre-series, reader is Sarah's teacher and around Joel's age. Sex pollen, masturbation, sex, breaking of school district policy on multiple levels lol. Unbetaed but thanks as always to @fleetwoodmactshirt and @mourningbirds1 for their invaluable advice and cheerleading.

Mrs. Taylor, the third grade math teacher, had told you about the fraternization policy your first week at the school—and the incident back in ’97 that necessitated it in the first place.

“I’ll tell you what,” she’d said conspiratorially, “I’m not so sure it would’ve made it into the handbook if the dad Miss Kayla was stepping out with didn’t happen to be married to the PTA president’s sister.”

But he had been, and it’s there now in black and white on page 16 of the packet you’d received from HR: District Policy 3A(1) On fraternization with students’ family members. In short, dating parents is not allowed.

Amid lesson plans and curriculum revision, dating is the last thing on your mind anyway and you don’t think much about it beyond the opportunity for break room gossip. You’re too busy learning the ropes at a new school, and when the weekends come you’re focused on getting your laundry done and seeing your friends. Romance falls by the wayside and you barely miss it.

Then the fall term starts, and Sarah Miller joins your class.

Mr. Miller is one of the most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s all broad shoulders and deep brown eyes, thick hair falling in soft curls over his forehead and a comfortable Texan accent from his mouth. He repeats your name as you shake hands and between his deep voice and the large, calloused hand firmly gripping yours, you feel your knees start to buckle and you know you’re fucked.

A little fantasy never hurt anybody. There’s no District Policy 3A(2) On fantasizing about that one hot dad. This is what you tell yourself at the end of Curriculum Night, after you’ve gone home and showered and climbed into bed, ready to decompress from meeting every new student and their parents in one whirlwind evening.

What were those hands so big for if not to imagine how they’d cup your hips, how firmly they’d grip your thighs and part them to discover you? Why have a voice that deep, that little bit rough around the edges, if not to hear it moan in your ear and tell you, come on, baby, just like that?

You don’t mean for it to turn into a fixation. It’s just an easy, unattainable fantasy. Cooking him dinner and him thanking you by fucking you on the kitchen table, coaxing a new orgasm from you until you’re so wrung out he needs to help you to bed. Him picking you up in his truck and driving you somewhere quiet, like two teenagers sneaking off, straddling him in the cramped space to ride his hand, and the beard burn you get on your neck doesn’t even sting. It’s a dopamine boost.

Sarah’s dad is kind of a dick.

You catch him outside on a Friday, waiting to pick up his daughter after school. He’s leaning against the door of his truck, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses hiding his eyes. You try not to let your gaze linger too long on his biceps and how his t-shirt sleeves strain to contain them.

“Mr. Miller.”

He starts when you greet him and you wonder if he’d been dozing behind the shades, despite the cacophony of schoolchildren spilling out onto the sidewalk around you. But he gives you a polite nod in return.

“I just wanted to remind you of the parent volunteer opportunities for this year,” you say, holding out a printed flyer.

He accepts the paper, glances down at it, and grimaces like you’ve asked him to sign up for a root canal.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t crumple the paper but he drops it through the open window of his truck onto the passenger seat, where you imagine it getting lost amid the standard car detritus of fast food napkins and gas station receipts.

You wait a beat, but he doesn’t say anything more.

“Okay, well. Have a good weekend,” you tell him. He nods again, silently, and you think his eyes have probably already shut again as you turn to go. But then you hear a quiet, “you too,” like an afterthought, and for some reason—insanity, perhaps—you feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you walk away.

That night, he turns a little mean. Selfish. He puts you on your knees at his feet, offers you his dick to suck, teases his foot between your legs so you can grind against his shoe for relief. You press hard against your clit and focus on his cock, imagining how he’d fill your mouth, salt-skin-heat on your tongue, and it’s mortifying how quickly it makes you come, alone and muffled against your pillow.

There’s a rumor going around school that the fifth grade chemistry teacher, Mrs. Fontaine, is a witch. If it’s true, she must be one of the good ones, because she’s only ever been nice to you.

It’s a Tuesday and you come across her in the break room, perusing a newspaper and drinking coffee out of a mug decorated with a black cat. She’s never seemed too concerned with dispelling the rumors.

“Ah, here,” she says, nodding hello as you head to the fridge. “Your horoscope. What you are dreaming of will find you, whether or not you think you’re ready for it. Embrace your destiny, even if it means breaking a few rules.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Breaking rules? Are you sure you’ve got the right sign?” you joke.

She laughs knowingly. “The stars are telling you to let loose; maybe you should listen.”

“Maybe these celestial bodies don’t really know my business,” you counter. Mrs. F just shakes her head, like you’re the one being silly here.

Sarah’s dad blows off your scheduled parent-teacher meeting and sends her uncle in his place.

It makes you prickle with irritation.

Tommy Miller is nice enough. He’s younger than you, and a natural flirt, quick with a smile and a polite yes or no, ma’am when you ask him a question. He also has no idea what subject you teach or which grade Sarah is in, but he seems sincerely pleased to hear she’s doing well in your class, and he promises to share your report with her father, who will definitely, definitely follow up.

You’re not holding your breath.

In the final week of the semester, Sarah hands you an envelope on her way to her seat. Your name is scratched on the front in boxy letters. Inside, the note reads:

I’m sorry I missed our one-on-one. I had a work project go overtime and couldn’t get away. Thanks for meeting with Tommy instead. He told me Sarah is keeping up and about your reccomendation for the competition. That’s very cool.

I know you all want parents to volunteer. Ain’t nobody wants to eat my bake sale cupcakes but if you have anything that needs fixed around the classroom I can do that for you. Tommy mentioned there was some loose tile by the door.

Call me to schedule it and I’ll show up this time, promise.

-Joel

The promise gets you. You sigh, thinking you might forgive him after all, and get started jotting down a list of the loose tiles and crooked cabinet doors your maintenance guy has been ignoring for the past year.

He shows up in a tool belt and work boots, on Saturday morning as you’d arranged. The building is deserted and it’s almost serene walking through the empty hallways, silent but for the click of your shoes and the heavy tread of his.

You feel slightly self-conscious, being alone with him in person after all the time you’ve spent with the thought of him in private, but you try your best to push that down so you can appear professional.

Mr. Miller—Joel—seems at ease, rambling about the history of the district school buildings’ retrofits and how many decades it’s been since they’ve been properly updated. It’s endearingly uninteresting, reminding you of countless students who have subjected you to impromptu lectures on their own special interests over the years, and you’re biting back a smile by the time you reach your own classroom.

He takes in the room with an expert’s eye, systematically going through the list you’d made him and making notes to himself, finally tucking his pencil behind his ear for safekeeping when he’s done.

You’ve got your own list to get through, to close out the term and ready for the upcoming one—lesson plans to print and organize, task cards to laminate, books to sort in the classroom library as you swap out this year’s unit for the next. You busy yourself while he gets to work and there’s a companionable silence in the room, broken by the shuffle of papers and books on your end, hammering and the occasional muttered curse word from his.

You allow yourself to watch him when his back is turned. You watch his back, in fact—the sturdy slope of it down to the little patch of bare skin that reveals itself when he reaches forward and his shirt rides up. His skin looks soft. Lush, you think, and you luxuriate in the vision of him until you realize you’re biting your lip and force yourself to snap out of it and get back to alphabetizing.

Coming to a break, you stand up and stretch, then slip off your shoes and wiggle your toes. Yesterday, Mrs. Fontaine had dropped off a tin of cookies and in the rush of wishing your students a happy break, you’d forgotten to grab them on your way out. They’re still sitting on the corner of your desk, and you perch next to them and open the box.

“Cookie?” you offer. “My co-worker made them.”

Joel has been re-hanging cupboard doors to make them sit straight, and he looks up from his screwdriver. “Thanks.”

He washes his hands with care at the corner sink and comes to settle by your side, a respectful distance away. You munch on the cookies, looking around the room to admire his work. The changes are subtle, but for as many hours as you’ve spent in this room, they stand out to you. Little things like the cupboard doors closing properly, and the wooden border around your white board looking good as new instead of cracked along the edge.

“It looks great,” you tell him. “I appreciate your work.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing, but you see the smile on his face and can tell he’s happy you’re pleased.

It hits you first, you think. The strangest sensation, like a ripple through your body awakening every nerve.

“I feel…” you start, unsure.

What is it you feel?

You look at him and you watch as it strikes him too, as his jaw drops and his breathing goes shallow.

Your body feels drawn to his like there’s a magnet pulling you in. The air is suddenly thick, sticky with arousal brewing between you. Your eyes are locked with his and you see his pupils dilate, his gaze turning heavy with intent.

“Maybe we just… need some fresh air,” you suggest. It’s a struggle to turn from him to walk to the door and when you reach it your body aches. You look back at him, seeing the pained expression on his face and how tightly his fingers are gripping the edge of the desk. Your eyes drop—you can’t help it—to see the bulge in his jeans, and as if your body has taken over all decision-making, your fingers reach past the knob to engage the lock instead.

He kisses how you thought he would. Intense and focused. But his hands are nicer, gentler, than in your imagination. They smooth over your curves, settle on your back and your ass to pull you closer, into the space between his legs. His arms are a solid grip around you and your body melts against his until he’s the only thing holding you up.

He turns the two of you around so you can sit on the desk while he stands over you, panting when your lips break apart.

“I’ve never felt like this,” he whispers. “I feel—I need—”

He kisses you desperately and slides his hands under your shirt. The touch of his fingers on your body is like a dam breaking; now that you’ve felt it you need every inch of his skin against yours. Your hands knock as you rush to remove each others’ clothes, and it would be almost comical if you didn’t feel like you might die without him inside you soon.

He’s nudging his cock at your entrance, a spellbound, breath-held silence between you and a wanting ache in your gut.

“Please,” you whisper. It was chilly this morning but now you’re flushed with heat. His skin is glowing with sweat—it almost distracts you, noticing how the hard angle of his collarbone is softened by the sheen of it. You lean forward, set your mouth to his skin to taste him, and he groans.

He grinds against you, the thick length of him riding over your cunt. It feels like a tease, but it’s not; he’s holding himself back.

“Tell me you want it,” he breathes.

“Joel,” you moan. “Please. I want you.”

Your body arches as his cock drives you open, pleasure buzzing through your veins. He bows his head, mouth at your neck, the soft scratch of his beard pressing into your skin. With a gasping breath, he murmurs, “I wanted you—all this time,” and you think you might see stars.

You ignore the phone ringing, but when the answering machine switches on and you hear the urgency in your friend’s voice, you reluctantly drag yourself to the kitchen to pick up.

“Tell me you didn’t eat those cookies,” Mrs. Fontaine says.

You open your mouth, wondering what you should say, but she barrels on without you, explaining the mix-up with the special batch she’d made for date night with her husband and how she’s only just realized the mistake, and maybe she’s making a big deal out of nothing but you didn’t eat the cookies yet, did you?

You look up and see Joel leaning in the doorway to your bedroom, naked but for a pair of shorts, and abruptly you decide you don’t have time for this conversation.

“You know what? I’m gonna have to call you back,” you tell her, and with that, you hang up the phone.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 17

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

A/N: oh boy.....

“Baby, can I ask you something?”

Isla tears her gaze away from the window as she watches the town go by, turning to face her mom in the driver’s seat. “What’s up?” she asks, fixing the skirt of her summer dress.

Anne blows out a breath, left elbow resting on the sill of the car door. “I know this relationship of yours with Rafe, you’re keeping it a secret from your sister and friends.” Isla bites the inside of her cheek, already feeling the anxiety brew in the pit of her stomach over the subject of this conversation. “How much longer do you think you can keep this up?”

Isla sighs, head falling back against the seat in defeat. “Mom—”

“I don’t mind keeping it quiet from your sister,” Anne cuts in with a hint of a smile, glancing at Isla briefly before her gaze returns out onto the road. “But seriously, honey—”

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” Isla says, lips twisting to the side as she looks down at her dress. Spaghetti straps with a flowing skirt that stops a few inches above her knees, a pretty yellow color with tiny white daisies patterned all over it. “But I know no matter when or how I tell them, they’re not gonna be happy. They’ll for sure think I’m insane or something.”

She sees her mom’s eyebrows furrow, forehead crease. “It can’t be that bad. They’re your friends, your sister. Give them a little more credit.”

Isla scoffs, her smile sardonic as her eyebrows raise. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many fights the guys have gotten into with Rafe and his friends? There’s a lot of history between them all, and none of it is good. So I just—I don’t know how I’m supposed to look them all in the eye and tell them I’m dating Rafe. The only person who wouldn’t be totally pissed is Sarah. But the others? Especially Kie and JJ? They’ll think I’ve, like, betrayed them,” she mumbles, gaze dropping to watch herself anxiously play with one of the rings she wears.

It’ll hurt, when they find out. It will hurt them and it will hurt Isla, and her anxiety is preventing her from seeing the slight possibility that the reaction won’t be as big as she’s fearing, or that they might get over it quickly. It all just seems too explosive to go in any other way than badly.

“They love you,” Anna says firmly. “So they’ll get over it. It might take them some time to accept your relationship, but I know they will. Especially when they see that you’re happy with Rafe.” The idea of it makes Isla smile slightly, though she doesn’t let that seed of hope in. But Anna sits confidently next to her, which is a little reassuring for Isla, even if her stomach is still in knots. “And when your relationship isn’t a secret anymore, I’d love for Rafe to come over for dinner.”

That makes Isla’s smile widen slightly, shy yet excited at the notion as she nods, her earrings tinkling as she does. “Yeah, me too.” Then she scoffs, adding, “Just make sure Kie doesn’t poison his food.”

Anna lets out a laugh at that, shaking her head in amusement. As the car rolls to a stop at a red light, she turns to meet Isla’s gaze, her eyes soft and warm. “Look, I know you want to make sure the time is right to tell them, but don’t wait too long that you end up psyching yourself out of it, okay? It’d be better for them to hear it from you than somehow finding out some other way.”

Isla nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek, because her mom hasn’t said anything Isla doesn’t already know. Telling her friends herself is exactly what Isla wants. She knows the longer she waits, the more opportunity she is giving for the universe to play a card against her and have her friends find out about her and Rafe through another way. It would make the situation even worse if they didn’t hear it from her, even if the idea of telling them still makes her beyond anxious. She loves her friends so much. She can’t imagine her life without them.

Even so, their reactions aren’t something Isla is looking forward to. Avoiding the problem, for now, just seems easier.

Isla is still thinking about it after her mom drops her off at the dock, her mind still running on the ferry over to the mainland where she’s meeting Rafe. He already had to be at Chapel Hill for work on behalf of his dad, so he and Isla had made a plan to meet at Sutton’s for their date. Kie was working at the restaurant today, her friends occupied with something or another, so it was the perfect time for Isla to meet up with Rafe.

If anyone asked, she was meeting up with some friends she had made when she toured the university’s campus a few months ago, so no one would be the wiser.

When Isla turns the corner to get to Sutton’s, she smiles when, in the distance, she easily spots Rafe standing outside. His back is to her, but she recognizes him easily, her smile widening as she approaches him, artfully dodging any other pedestrian in the way. Rafe, though, stands in the shade of the mid-size tree along the sidewalk, seemingly busy on his phone, until Isla skips the last few steps until she’s sliding up right next to him, left arm winding around his waist.

“Excuse me, but could you by chance be waiting for someone?” she grins, giggling when he tenses up the second her arm is around him, but relaxing a split second later when he looks down at her grinning face.

Rafe’s own smile lights up his face, dancing in those blue eyes as he settles his arm around her shoulders. “Sure am,” he says, fingers brushing up and down the bare skin of her arm. It’s the middle of summer, and he’s going to make goosebumps break across her skin as his eyes drink in every inch of her. From the yellow dress against her brown skin to her wavy hair falling down her back to the gold of her jewelry; from her necklaces and rings to nose ring and several earrings. “Waiting for the prettiest girl around,” he finishes, dipping his head to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

Isla smiles, kissing him back and welcoming the fluttering in her chest. “Such a charmer,” she teases as they pull back, her right hand on his chest. “But it’s time for you to feed me.”

That pulls a laugh out of him, and Isla can never get tired of the sound. So light, making a hint of crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes, showing off perfect white teeth and a smile that could heal anyone’s heart. No wonder he takes care of a lot of Ward’s business when it comes to face-to-face time with clients; Rafe is undeniably charming, his smile disarming and effortlessly making a person forget about anything else. Isla doesn’t mind it one bit.

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s go,” he says, walking them to the front doors of Sutton’s, opening one of the doors and gently nudging her forward to walk in first, following close behind her as they enter.

Isla smiles when she’s instantly hit with the scent of burgers being cooked and the salty tinge of French fries. There’s an Icee machine towards the back on the left, and while there are tables to sit at the front, towards the back are aisles and fridges loaded with snacks and drinks. The walls are white and red tiled, a menu board along the wall behind the ordering counter, right above the window looking into the kitchen where Isla sees people bustling around. 

Rafe had said this place wasn’t extraordinary, just a burger joint mixed with a store, but it’s the food that makes this place popular. It already smells amazing as they step up to the counter to order.

The man standing on the other side, an older guy with graying hair and a goatee, instantly grins when they step up. “Rafe Cameron, my man,” the man laughs, hand reaching over and Isla smiles as Rafe’s hand clasps his. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.” His gaze shifts over to Isla, his smile widening. “And who’s this lovely lady you’ve got with you?”

Isla sees Rafe grin as his arm rests on her shoulders again. “This is my girl, Isla.” Her heart skips happily at his words as he says to her, “This is Morgan. The genius behind the food you’re gonna eat today.”

Isla laughs. “I can’t wait.”

“Music to my ears,” Morgan says, waving his fingers in a come on motion. “What’ll you have?”

While Isla gets a cheeseburger deluxe, Rafe gets a steak burger, fries for both, and once he pays for their food and drinks, they claim a small round table against the wall while their food is being made. “Oh, hey,” Rafe says, shifting forward in his chair as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. “Wheezie asked me to give this to you.”

He holds out a tiny brown cloth bag and recognition lights up Isla’s face as she reaches for it. “What is it?” Rafe asks with a chuckle, watching curiously. 

Isla grins as she undoes the strings that shut the bag. “You didn’t open it and look?” she asks teasingly.

Rafe settles back in his chair. “Wouldn’t invade your privacy if it was something you wanted to keep to yourself or something.”

Her smile softens as she reaches into the bag. “You’re adorable,” she says with a gentle laugh, pulling out the beaded bracelet Wheezie made. “See?” Isla shows him, holding the bracelet up.

A smile touches Rafe’s lips, his fingers twisting his own bracelet once. “You asked her to make you one?” When she nods with a hum, he looks at the bracelet again and says, “That’s a pretty blue.”

Isla observes the bracelet, the sky blue beads Wheezie had used and white heart beads in between, the blue color absolutely perfect. Isla bites her bottom lip, hesitating for a moment, a bit shy before confessing, “Matches your eyes.”

She sees Rafe’s smile falter a bit at the revelation, surprised, but his smile returns quickly, those blue eyes lighting up while Isla’s cheeks heat. Letting herself be vulnerable with him, emotionally, is something that has become easier—though it doesn’t stop her from blushing anyway. But Rafe always seems to welcome her shyness, her vulnerability, and hasn’t made her regret being open with him.

And it feels good—to let someone in, in a way that she hasn’t in a while. Rafe is sweet to her, soft, and she finds herself falling for him more and more. Despite the secrets, despite the complications that would come from telling her friends, her feelings for Rafe aren’t something she can ignore—she doesn’t want to.

“You’re a romantic too, huh?” he muses, his smile gentle but Isla sees the sheer happiness in his gaze that makes her pulse quicken.

“Of course,” Isla grins, putting on the bracelet to join the one she already wears on her wrist, the matching thread bracelet she has with her sister, Sarah, and Cleo. Her throat works as she fiddles with the yellow bracelet, sitting nicely next to the blue beaded one, and Isla exhales slowly through her nose. “I was thinking. . .”

“Uh-oh,” Rafe smiles, chuckling when she shoots him a feigned glare. “What about?”

Isla twists her lips to the side, right leg crossing over her left knee and adjusting the skirt of her dress. Sutton’s isn’t too busy, but there’s a subtle bustle of the cooks in the kitchen and other customers scattered around at tables. Letting out a breath, she admits, “I think I’m gonna tell the others about us.”

She watches as Rafe’s expression shifts, surprise washing over his face because no doubt she took him off guard. Truthfully, they don’t have conversations, at length, about Isla telling her friends about their relationship. Rafe has given her full reign on how to go about that because, the fact of the matter is, Rafe doesn’t give much of a damn of people’s opinions on him, even his friends’. If anything, Isla knows Rafe’s friends would give him shit for dating a Pogue, even if a lot of them still see Isla, Kie, and Sarah as Kooks, but they’ll be quick to get over it.

But Isla’s friends, on the other hand, are a different story, more volatile. Anxiety has made her keep this a secret, but she and Rafe have been dating for nearly two months now, and things between them keep getting better and better. She wants to share that happiness, doesn’t want to hide it like some dirty little secret. Plus, Isla is tired of sneaking around; it started off fun, and it still has some of its thrill, but being with him publicly, without worrying about getting caught, is also something she wants.

“Are you—you’re sure?” Rafe asks, sitting up as his gaze intently searches hers. “Because I don’t want you to take that step if you’re not ready—”

“I’m sure,” Isla tells him with a nod, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a slight smile. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready. You know them. They’re stubborn. I think holding it off for too long might be worse because they’ll think of how long I’ve been keeping this from them, you know?” Her eyes meet Rafe’s. “I think you and I are in a good place, right? This works between us, it feels good.” Her cheeks heat up with her smile as Rafe grins a little too. “So, yeah. I’m gonna tell them, and hope for the best,” she adds with a chuckle.

Rafe nods, taking this in while his smile remains. “You know I got your back, yeah?” With a tilt of his head, he hesitates for a moment before asking, “Do you want me to be there when you tell them?”

A gentle laugh escapes her, eyebrows rising. “I think it might be better if it was just me.” The mere sight of Rafe would be enough to raise their hackles before Isla would be able to get a word out. “Maybe I should get them drunk first.”

Rafe snorts out a laugh, just as his name is called from the counter. “I’ll follow your lead, sweetheart,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair and heading to get their food.

Isla watches him, biting the inside of her cheek and absently admiring the firm shape of his ass in those pants while also picturing the scene in her head of when she drops this bombshell on her friends. There will probably be yelling, looks of betrayal and possibly disgust—Isla just needs to mentally prepare herself for all of them. And, honestly, she’s been doing that since the minute she and Rafe decided to pursue a relationship—hell, since their first date—but no matter how much she tries to prepare herself, Isla doesn’t think she’ll be ready.

It’ll be fine. Hopefully.

“Here we fucking go,” Rafe says when he returns, placing the tray in front of them and picking up one of the styrofoam boxes labeled cheeseburger deluxe and handing it to her. “This is yours. Dig in.”

Isla places a paper napkin on her lap before opening the box excitedly, feeling Rafe’s gaze on her as she admires the picture perfect burger and a good portion of French fries. It smells delicious as she picks it up, perfectly hot in her hands, and when she lifts it to her mouth, her gaze flickers up and catches Rafe’s.

“Are you gonna watch me eat?” she asks with an amused laugh.

He matches her smile. “Just the first bite. Wanna get your honest reaction.”

Isla shakes her head, smiling at his interest and curiosity as Isla finally takes a bite of the burger. Flavor explodes on her tongue and Isla’s shoulders drop as she chews, eyes widening at Rafe, who is smiling in satisfaction. “Oh, my God,” she mumbles after swallowing, reaching for a napkin to pat at her lips. “This is amazing.”

Honestly, it’s probably better than any gourmet burger she’s had. And Isla hates to admit it, but it’s even a little better than the cheeseburger they make at The Wreck—though, she’d never tell her parents that.

“I told you,” Rafe answers smugly, reaching for his own burger. But before he takes a bite, he asks, “You wanna try mine?”

Isla smiles as he holds the burger out, putting her own down and reaching for his. She takes a bite, the steak burger colored with different sauces and spices, but delicious all the same. She tastes the familiar tang of a pickle as she chews, nodding in approval as she hands it back to Rafe. “Delicious. I ate a pickle, sorry,” she apologizes with a grin.

Rafe chuckles and takes the top of the bun off, picking up the second slice of pickle and putting it in her container. “I don’t like pickles.”

Isla blinks. “Why didn’t you ask them to keep them off?”

He shrugs. “You like pickles,” he answers simply before taking a bite, leaving Isla smiling fondly at the boy before her.

“You’re so cute,” she grins, nudging his foot with hers under the table as she picks up the pickle and tosses it in her mouth.

“Cute, whipped,” Rafe hums with a roll of his eyes, waving around a fry. “Either one works.” He flashes a smirk.

Isla wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “Regrets?”

He smiles, but his gaze is serious. “Absolutely not.”

*****

Isla’s fingers brush along the spines of the rows of books, unable to help herself any time she’s in a bookstore. After lunch at Sutton’s, which had been delicious, they began walking down the sidewalk until they came across a bookstore and, like a magnet, Isla was drawn inside. Rafe had no arguments, following her in with a smile, but about ten minutes later, he stepped outside for a work call.

Isla already has three books in her arms since he left the store, which she knows will amuse him. It’s not her fault she can’t leave a bookstore without buying something. It’s a compulsion at this point.

By the time Isla’s ready to check out, she frowns at the front windows of the store, wondering where Rafe is. That’s a long phone call.

Once she pays and is happily dangling the strap of the paper bag from her fingers, Isla exits the store, ready to pull her phone out to text Rafe—only to spot him easily out on the sidewalk. Instantly, her confusion falters and a smile spreads on Isla’s parted lips, her heart picking up its pace when she sees the small bouquet of sunflowers he’s holding.

He’s already grinning, like he’s expecting her, and a breathless laugh escapes Isla, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she walks over and he holds the flowers out. Her sandals tap against the pavement as she approaches Rafe, stopping in front of him and reaching for the bouquet—except he clicks his tongue and pulls them out of her reach.

“Ah-ah,” Rafe grins with a lift of his chin, blue eyes dancing with mirth as Isla’s eyebrows raise. “Not for free.”

She’s quick to know what he means, her smile widening as she steps closer until there’s barely any space between them on the semi-busy sidewalk. Isla is wrapped in the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne, woodsy with a delicious undertone of spices, and with a hand on his chest, she rises on her toes with an upward tilt of her chin, and Rafe’s grin widens as he meets her halfway because he’s too tall for his own good, lips pressing to hers.

Isla sucks on his bottom lip and his answering groan is enough to send desire coursing through her, desperate need for Rafe making her head spin as his tongue swipes against hers. She knows they’re in public, but can’t bring herself to care as she feels his free hand pressing to the small of her back, his touch warm even through the thin material of her dress. 

Her head spins with his kisses, and she groans quietly before mumbling, “Wish we were home right now.”

“Yeah?” Rafe murmurs as Isla’s eyes flutter open, watching him look down at her with hooded eyes. His gaze flickers around them, then, before he smiles. The mischievous glint in his eyes has Isla raising her eyebrows before he says, “I’ve got an idea.”

Fifteen minutes later, her free hand clasped in Rafe’s, Isla is stifling a laugh as they walk down the carpeted hallway of an upscale hotel. “You’re insane,” she giggles as Rafe takes the keycard and taps it against the security lock of the hotel room Rafe booked for them just for the afternoon.

He holds the door open for her, using his grip on her hand to usher her into the room. The curtains are parted to let the afternoon sun brighten the room, the king sized bed practically calling their name as Isla sets the flowers, purse, and bag of books on the nearby table. It’s a simple, spacious room with a king sized bed with a bed frame against the wall, cushioned in the middle with a wooden frame. A TV opposite of the bed, a mini fridge with a glass door showing off the drinks and treats inside—though, all she and Rafe really care about is the bed, of course.

She feels Rafe come up behind her, his fingers brushing along her neck as he moves her dark hair over one shoulder, Isla’s breath catching when his lips ghost along her neck. “It’s not home—” Neither hers nor his. “But it’s the second best thing.”

“Mhm,” Isla hums as his hand snakes across her stomach, pressing her closer into him as she leans her head back against his shoulder. “You’ll hear no complaints from me,” she says, tilting her head enough to press her lips to his, grinning when he instantly returns the kiss.

Isla turns in his arms, her own wrapping around his neck and pushing herself into him, heat pooling between her legs when his hands slide down her sides before they cup her ass through the material of her dress, applying pressure to pull her closer. Isla moans and her fingers run through his hair as he moves them, no doubt moving them towards the bed.

Her skin is on fire, craving his touch, and she drops her hands to undo his belt. As his tongue teases hers, deepening the kiss, the back of Isla’s legs touch the bed. She has five seconds to toe off her sandals—thank God they don’t have clasps—and suddenly she’s being pushed down, a gasp of a laugh escaping her during the moment their kiss breaks as Rafe’s lean body climbs over hers, kissing her once again as she practically sinks into the soft mattress.

“This fucking dress,” Rafe mumbles into the kiss, Isla’s heart pounding as she feels his finger hook under one of the spaghetti straps. “Bet you wore it just to drive me crazy,” he rasps, pulling one of the straps down her shoulder.

Isla’s lips curl up because he’s totally not wrong. It’s one of her favorite dresses, for sure, but Isla had put it on with the simple thought of Rafe’s reaction to her wearing it. “Is it working?” she asks, pulling out his belt and tossing it to the side. It clatters somewhere on the floor.

Rafe growls quietly and Isla gasps into his mouth when he takes one of her hands and brings it to cup his cock over the material of his pants. He’s big and hard and Isla’s body practically sings with the desire of having him inside of her again. “What do you think?” he asks, nipping at her bottom lip and tugging at it sharply. She swears she feels the pull in her pussy.

“Gonna do something about it?” she asks breathlessly between kisses, her leg hooking around his hip to bring him closer, heart pounding as they breathe in each other’s air. 

She arches slightly when she feels his hand cup her breast through her dress, the bodice fitting nicely enough that she didn’t need to wear a bra with it. “Yeah,” he grunts, the air hitching in Isla’s throat when his fingers curl under the neckline of her dress. “Gonna taste every inch of you.”

Cool air of the room hits her in the next second when Rafe tugs the front of her dress down, the material soft and stretchy enough for him to do so easily. Rafe pulls back and Isla already misses the taste of his lips, but she catches the way his gaze darkens at the sight of her exposed breasts, hunger flashing across his face before he leans down and closes his lips around her nipple.

Isla cries out at the wicked touch, hand finding the back of Rafe’s head, fingers threading through his hair as he sucks at her nipple, tongue flicking and each teasing movement has Isla’s head tilting back, lips parting and eyes fluttering at the electricity that buzzes through her veins. When his teeth graze along her nipple, Isla gasps, fingers tightening in his hair as her back arches, pushing her breast further into the warmth of Rafe’s mouth as his hand cups her other breast, fingers tweaking and playing with her nipple.

“So fucking pretty,” Rafe mumbles, switching over to the other breast, and Isla lifts her head enough to watch him suck, his lust filled blue eyes locking on her dazed green, her heart pounding when she feels his tongue flick her nipple again. 

“Rafe, Rafe.” His name is all Isla can utter, lost in the head spinning ecstasy she feels from his mouth alone. “Please—”

She’s not sure what she’s begging for at this point, but he lifts off her chest and kisses her, swallowing her moans and licking into her mouth. His tongue plunders and ravages and takes, and Isla happily lets him as her fingers blindly find the hem of his shirt, giving it an upwards tug. The kiss breaks long enough for Rafe to pull the shirt off the rest of the way, Isla’s fingers admiring the hard muscles of his abdomen and feeling them flex under her touch.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he murmurs against her lips. Isla hums in response, fairly certain she’d do anything he’d ask. Rafe kisses the corner of her mouth, brushes his lips against hers, and asks, “Sit on my face? Please?”

Oh, fuck yes.

She looks up at him, panting, admiring the lust in his eyes and pink swollen lips. She doesn’t miss the way her breasts glisten with Rafe’s saliva as she nods dazedly, and Rafe smirks at her instant agreement, moving to turn them so he’s laying down and she moves to straddle him, taking off her underwear and tossing it to the side. When her hand moves to undo the zipper on the side, Rafe’s hand gently grips her wrist.

“No.” Isla’s gaze flies to his, admiring his kiss swollen lips and the hunger in his eyes. “Keep it on,” he says, voice hoarse with need that Isla feels in her belly and between her legs.

Isla’s skin flushes, heart pounding and breath shallowing as she glances down at herself. The skirt of her dress is bunched up while the bodice has been tugged low enough to expose her breasts, nipples taut and perked not just because of the coolness of the room, but Rafe’s earlier ministrations. 

His hands brush up and down her outer thighs, a ghost of a smirk curving his mouth. “Come on, baby.”

It’s all the encouragement Isla needs, desire thrumming her veins as she shifts up his body until she’s hovering right above his face. She tries to keep the skirt bunched to her waist, but the second Rafe’s hands sneak up to her hips under her clothes and he pulls her down and a gasp rips through Isla the second his mouth comes into contact with her. With his grip on her, he makes her sit on his face and Isla has to grip the top of the wooden frame of the bed, head bowing as she feels Rafe lick into her eagerly.

She remembers that day on his kitchen counter, but here, Isla doesn’t hold back the moans that escape her as Rafe’s tongue pushes through her lips, licking into her opening as already making Isla’s head spin. Her knees rest on either side of his head, but she still feels herself tremble when Rafe’s tongue flicks against her clit and Isla throws her head back.

“Oh, God, Rafe,” she gasps, hips moving against him as her grip tightens on the frame. Even if she looks down at Rafe, she can only just get a glimpse of him from beneath the skirt of her dress. The sensation of his mouth working on her sends electricity zipping through her body, his fingers digging into her hips and helping her move as whimpers escape her.

“Could stay here all fucking day, y’know,” Rafe mumbles, his words accompanied by the crude sounds of him licking and sucking. “Favorite fucking thing. Heaven.”

The last word is groaned out as he sucks her clit into his mouth and a sharp cry escapes Isla because in the next moment, she’s falling apart above him with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest and liquid fire flooding her veins. Isla chants his name, over and over, until she’s shaking on top of him and body threatening to go limp.

But then Rafe moves them swiftly. With his hands on her hips, he pushes Isla backwards and shifts himself until she’s on her back and he’s moving on top of her, her head now by the foot of the bed. Isla giggles breathlessly at the sudden movement, stomach flipping excitedly at the way Rafe moves her around so easily. He grins down at her, messed up hair and swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

When he comes back over her, capturing her lips in a slow, dizzying kiss, he asks, “You want me?”

Her hands are in his hair, tongue in his mouth. God. “Yes.”

One of Rafe’s hands finds hers, linking their fingers together next to her head as he kisses her deeply. “You have me.”

*****

“Sarah will understand, right?”

A light scoff sounds from Rafe. “We’re sitting in a bathtub, and you wanna talk about my sister?” he asks, teasingly nipping at her neck.

Isla laughs gently, her back pressed to his chest. The warm water is brilliant for her muscles, which definitely got worked out after her and Rafe were done. Since Rafe had booked the hotel room for a few hours, they still had some time to kill, and Rafe took it upon himself to fill up the tub and because this is one of those fancy hotels, there was even a small bottle of bubble bath that he practically emptied in the tub.

“I’m just thinking,” she says, sitting between his legs with her head resting back against his shoulder. One of his hands links with her, resting on the lip of the tub, while his other hand brushes his fingers across her stomach under the water, so light yet enough to tug at her center. “I’m not looking forward to their reactions but I’m hoping, you know, that at least we’ll have Sarah on our side? Maybe?”

Rafe is silent for a couple of seconds as Isla watches his fingers play with hers, chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for him to say something. “You want me to be honest?” he asks quietly, making her heart thump.

“Yes.”

“I’d say it’s fifty-fifty,” he answers and Isla’s heart drops upon hearing that. And maybe he feels her tense against him because his arm snakes around her waist, holding her close. “I have a feeling my sister’s more loyal to your friends than she is to me.”

A lump forms in Isla’s throat when she hears the hint of dismay in Rafe’s voice. She knows Rafe and Sarah’s relationship isn’t perfect; they’ve had their issues, especially when Rafe and his friends got into it with Isla’s friends. Things can get tense between them, but Sarah hasn’t had any complaints against Rafe over the last couple of months—mostly because Rafe hasn’t been getting into fights with the guys. If anything, he pulled Topper back that night at the Boneyard, and Isla recalls Sarah commenting that she was pleasantly surprised at Rafe stepping in like that.

But to know Sarah may also be upset with Isla and Rafe’s relationship makes Isla’s stomach twist in knots. She was hoping that Sarah would be their safe bet because, as much as Isla loves her own sister, she doesn’t think Kie will be too receptive to this relationship. Maybe, over time, her friends will adjust and accept, but Isla is dreading that initial reaction upon them learning the truth. It makes her stomach feel hollow with nothing in it but dread, anxiety ruling over.

“I’m sorry,” Isla whispers, eyebrows furrowing together as she squeezes Rafe’s fingers.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Rafe instantly says. “My and Sarah’s relationship is slowly getting better, which is why I think it could go either way. If this had been months ago, she would’ve totally been against us,” he adds with a gentle laugh. “But maybe she’ll be quicker to come around. Honestly, baby—” He brushes his lips across her cheekbone. “There’s no telling how any of them are gonna react, right? I don’t think you should stress yourself out by running every possible scenario, you know? They’re gonna react how they’re gonna react. It’s out of any of our control.”

Isla sighs, pouting. “That’s not as comforting as you think,” she mutters with a short chuckle.

His grip tightens and Isla feels his head drop until his lips press to her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding truly regretful, which only tugs at her heartstrings. “I’ve got you though, okay? No matter what happens or what they say, you have me.”

Now those words have Isla melting, relaxing in his embrace as her lips curl up into a gentle smile. “Nice save,” she says playfully before turning her head enough to press her lips to his cheek. “But you’re right. No point in psyching myself out.”

It’s easier said than done, of course, but it’s all the more reason why Isla needs to tell her friends sooner rather than later. Like, tomorrow, maybe. The idea makes her heart thud unsurprisingly, but it’s a feeling she has come to be familiar with—though, one she can’t wait to get rid of.

She sighs then and says, “We should probably get out before we get all pruney.”

Rafe hums against her neck. “Sounds sexy,” he quips, making her laugh as he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, if we have to.”

They make quick work of drying off and getting dressed again. Fortunately, Isla’s makeup isn’t too messed up, just cleaning off some mascara residue from under her eyes and reapplying her lip oil. She pulls her hair out of the bun it had been in for the bath, combing her fingers through the wavy strands so they fall nicely around her shoulders.

He gently taps her ass when they exit the elevator once the doors open up to the lobby, and while Rafe goes to check them out, Isla sits down on one of the couches, placing the flowers next to her as she checks her phone in case her sister or friends texted her. She only has notifications from their Snapchat group chat; Kie sending a video of her making a sandwich at work, JJ sending a picture of his bike that he’s working on, and Cleo sending a picture of Pope sitting at his desk while she seems to be laying in his bed.

Isla doesn’t send a picture or video in return, not wanting her friends to see where she is. But being occupied by her phone doesn’t last too long because a few seconds later, she hears an annoyingly familiar voice ask, “What are you doing here?”

Isla freezes, her heart pounding as she very quickly realizes that this can very quickly blow up in her face. With her grip on her phone tightening, Isla slowly raises her head until her eyes find Topper standing before her. He’s standing before her in a suit and tie get up, eyebrow raised at her as he waits for an answer that Isla doesn’t want to give, and definitely doesn’t owe him.

Panic blooms in her chest, but Isla shoves it down as she puts on a mask of indifference, tilting her head at Topper. He definitely doesn’t look happy to see her, his jaw tense and eyes hard, but that’s not what Isla focuses on. She’s more worried about talking her way out of this before he sees Rafe and somehow puts two and two together.

“Visiting a friend from out of town. She’s staying here,” Isla lies smoothly, gesturing to the lobby. Her gaze flickers past him, towards a sign on an easel in front of one of the ballroom doors. It reads Thornton Conway Archer, which is the name of the law firm Topper’s mom is a name partner of. Great. How the hell did she and Rafe miss that on their way in? Isla shoots Topper a tight smile. “Nice monkey suit. If you’ll excuse me,” she says, grabbing her bags and flowers and getting up from the couch, skin heating with anxiety of needing to get away.

“A friend from out of town, huh?” he repeats, unconvinced, as he steps in Isla’s way, making her stop short. She masks her panic with a glare. “Didn’t wanna show them the glories of The Cut, huh?” he says condescendingly, making Isla feel the urge to punch him in the face. Her friends have really rubbed off on her over the years.

Isla blinks at him. “Is there a reason we’re having a conversation right now?” she asks blankly even if her nerves are skittering, needing escape. Except Topper’s gaze has already flickered over Isla’s shoulder and dread pools in her stomach when she sees realization dawn on his face.

“Rafe?” he asks and Isla’s teeth press together. Maybe she can play it off smoothly that she had no idea Rafe was here; maybe their cover isn’t totally blown yet. Topper doesn’t look too thrilled to see Rafe and Isla knows it’s because of their confrontation outside of the country club. “What are you doing here?”

Isla raises her eyebrows, hoping to give off an expression of surprise as she looks over her shoulder to see Rafe slowly approaching them. Their gazes meet, and she can easily see the annoyance—and concern—swimming in his blue eyes as he makes his way over, pocketing his wallet. His tongue presses to the inside of his cheek before his gaze slides back to Topper, eyes hardening.

“Business meeting,” he answers simply. He glanced between her and Topper and casually asked, “Everything okay here?”

Topper scoffed, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. “Why? Wanna come to her rescue again? You know—” He narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. “It’s pretty convenient that you two are both here.” Looking at Rafe, he asks, “Do you have a new hobby of coming to the Pogues’ rescue nowadays?”

“What can I say? Right place, right time,” Rafe lazily drawls and Isla admires his ability to appear unbothered. But there’s slight tension bracketing his mouth, so subtle yet Isla notices it because she knows him, and she knows that he’s a bit thrown off, too, to run into Topper here. Then Rafe’s glaze flicks to her meaningfully and Isla hears him loud and clear.

Isla inhales sharply, offering them a tight, close mouthed smile. “Alright, well, I’m gonna be anywhere but here,” she says with an upward flick of her eyebrows. Before Topper can stop her, she moves around them and tries not to appear that she’s fleeing—even if she is.

She’s about to head to the doors to exit, but recalls that she told Topper the so-called friend she’s visiting is staying here. “Shit,” she mutters under her breath before making a B-line towards the hall where the elevators are located.

Fortunately, she disappeared from the view of the lobby as she approached the wall at the end of the hall. Isla leans back against it, resting the bag of books by her feet as she tilts her head back and lets out a breath, eyes shutting. Goddamn—Topper has the annoying habit of popping up at the most inconvenient times. Not that his presence is ever welcomed, but lately it’s been on a whole other level.

She’s alone for maybe a couple of minutes when she hears footsteps, and by the time she opens her eyes, Rafe is approaching her. “Hey,” he says worriedly, glancing over his shoulder while making his way over. “You good?” he asks once he’s stopped in front of her, effectively obscuring her view of the hallway behind him.

Isla huffs out a breath, shooting Rafe an incredulous look. “Why is he always everywhere?” she asks in exasperation, letting out a breathless laugh that’s only slightly tinged with alarm. “Do you think he, like, suspects anything?”

Rafe rolls his eyes, shaking his head reassuringly. “He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know shit,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Let’s hope that’s true,” Isla huffs, running her fingers through her hair as she hopes to sway away the nerves that had risen.

“Hey,” Rafe says gently as he places his hands on the sides of her neck, his thumbs brushing along the underside of her jaw. “Let’s not let him ruin our day, yeah?”

Isla smiles slightly, dipping her chin in a nod before Rafe tilts her head up by placing some pressure where his thumbs are, ducking his own head to kiss her gently. Her eyes flutter shut and she sighs into the sweet kiss, lightly gripping the front of his shirt as she parts her lips to allow his tongue to slip in. God, yes. With just one touch, one kiss, Rafe manages to make everything else disappear, and it is so easy to get lost in him.

“Alright. Time to go,” he sighs, bumping his nose against hers before pulling back and smiling down at her. 

They’re able to make it out of the hotel without another run-in with Topper, though just to be safe, they head out separately before meeting up a block down from the hotel. It had been a perfect, wonderful day as she and Rafe take the ferry back to the OBX, their fingers interlaced as they sat in the last row below deck, away from anyone around.

As she watches the water glitter, her phone buzzes, and she pulls it out to see Kie had messaged in the groupchat.

From: Kie🐬

can u come to jb’s, isla?

Isla arches an eyebrow, but messages back.

From: Isla

yeah, i can be there in 25

It’s not long until they get to the dock back in town, which means she and Rafe have to part ways and she has to go see her friends. Rafe offers to drop her, but she insists on taking an Uber, kissing him goodbye and heading over to John B’s, texting in the chat to let them know she’s on her way. She puts the small bouquet of flowers in the paperbag of books, the bag dangling from her fingertips as she got out of the car and thanked the Uber driver before shutting the door.

Her lips still tingled with Rafe’s kisses as she walked across the patch of grass towards the Chateau’s porch, noticing the others’ cars and bike already parked. Isla’s not sure why Kie asked her to come over, though it’s not unusual for them all to meet up here, of course.

She spots them sitting scattered around the screened in porch, the murmur of conversation dying as soon as she opens the door and walks in. “Hey,” she greets, albeit a little slowly as all gazes turn to her. For some reason, she feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

They all look at her, stone faced and hard eyed, and Isla blinks as she remains rooted on the spot, her gaze flickering to every face. Sarah won’t meet her gaze, instead looking down at her lap or at John B, who sits with pursed lips. When Isla looks to Kie, her sister stands by the wall, arms crossed and a furrow between her brows that creases her forehead. On the recliner, Pope sits forward with his elbows resting on his knees, chin resting atop interlaced fingers, and Cleo is fiddling with her switchblade as she sits on the arm of the chair. JJ isn’t facing her, instead looking out onto the Routledges’ land with arms crossed and every muscle of his body seemingly tense.

Isla’s throat tightens. Something is so very wrong.

In fact, Isla can feel the tension in the room, suffocating. Her pulse kicks up a few notches, the uncertainty of what she walked into filling her with unease.

“Um,” Isla starts, shattering the silence. Something tightens in her stomach, something foreign and indecipherable, as she lets out a short chuckle and tensely jokes, “Who died?”

It’s Kie who responds, a kind of hardness in her eyes that has never been directed towards Isla. “When were you gonna tell us that you’ve been hooking up with Rafe?”

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 6)

Hello, hello, hello, and welcome to the sixth installment of this little series of mine! Thank you all again for likes and shares on the previous parts. You all continue to blow me away with your support for this project of mine. Once again, smooches and squeezy-hugs to you all! But only if you want them.

As a quick heads up, we're entering into the "December 2012" era of fics, so you might start seeing a bit of a Christmas theme going on for a for a little bit. Generally, I don't prefer Christmas fics myself, but I'm a sucker for kid and pack fics (you may have already been able to tell), and those tropes tend to work well in a Christmas setting. Consider yourselves warned!

Okay, that's all from me for now. Ta-ta!

List and link to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

************************************************************************

DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

************************************************************************

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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

Nothing Satisfies Me But Your Soul by fadedhues (NR | 1/1 | 1,259)

“My name is Death,” he sings softly, and it’s fucking pretty, like he’s singing a lullaby to the winter sky, “and the end is here.”

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

must be a devil between us by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 2,081)

"What? Why would-- Derek, why would your daemon encourage mine to touch you?" Stiles fakes calm well, but his heart gives him away.

"Because Luminera is a deviant." He shrugs. He accepted Luminera's reckless behavior years ago.

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

souls of mischief by hoars (M | 2/2 | 2,695)

Stiles’ first memory of his mom is green.

Her green eyes, her green dresses, her green scarves, her green blouses and her green barrettes.

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

with the darkness fed by Rena (NR | 1/1 | 2,835)

It takes him several tries to dial the right number; his hands are slippery with blood (warm and sticky and bright red) and his entire body is shaking with the aftermath of puking his guts out, his breath is burning in his lungs and the phone keeps eluding his grasp.

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

What Could Have Been by thingcalledlove (G | 1/1 | 2,971)

The camera zooms in on the face of a very beautiful woman who looks vaguely familiar.

“Who’s the babe?” Stiles jokes, turning to look over at Derek.

“My mom,” Derek replies with a glare.

“Oh, shit, dude, I’m sor—” Stiles breaks off his apology as his eyes drift back towards the screen. Beside Mrs. Hale is another familiar face. One he hasn’t seen in a long time. His mother.

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

I Don't Want To Be Saved by Lapin (M | 1/1 | 3,132)

And everyone, everyone has their own ideas about this relationship, they all say the same things, they all do. "He's not good for you," "It's Derek," "This is the fourth night in a row," "What kind of asshole dates a high schooler?" "I'm not okay with this."

But Stiles pulls the red hood up, wanders from the path, and he's picking flowers, and he's breathing, "My, what big teeth you have," and Derek bares his fangs, and yeah. Fuck them.

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

Will Wonders Never Cease by thecheekydragon (T | 1/1 | 3,632)

Sheriff Stilinski wonders how Derek Hale fits into his working theory of a gigantic, two-ton pissed off moose shot-putting his son’s jeep.

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

Practically Perfect by betp (NR | 1/1 | 3,688)

WE NEED A NANNY PROBALLY. Reqirments: - eyes light up - wants to go places - can travel between dimentions - likes cheesebergers - a wear wolf - lisens to good music - SUPER STRONG - favorit color is pink - has friends who can fly - will merry our Dad

There is a stick figure drawing of a werewolf with red eyes and bared teeth, marrying Stiles on a cloud.

Or, "The one that has next to nothing to do with the kids." This is a straight-up unapologetic Mary Poppins AU.

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

Laura is Badass by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 5,079)

Laura's not expecting two teenage boys to burst into the bakery, brandishing lacrosse sticks yelling about “Kidnap!” and “Pedobears!” and “Sex slaves are illegal!”

She’s flabbergasted.

“Cupcake?” Derek offers.

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

When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear by owlpostagain (T | 1/1 | 7,817)

There are some salvageable things though. A virtually untouched heavy slate sign that says, engraved in an ornate script that confirms at least one person in the Hale family had a sense of humor (Stiles has a horrible suspicion it might have been Peter), When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear.

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

Beltane by DevilDoll (E | 1/1 | 8,254)

"Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

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

Your Words Are Robbery by dedougal (E | 1/1 | 12,127)

When Stiles is dragged back to Beacon Hills, he has to face everything he left behind.

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

cool story, bro by drunktuesdays (E | 1/1 | 13,087)

Based on a truly ridiculous conversation with Kalpurna about a hypothetical Stilinski Twins situation that ended up sounding something like:

“FUUUUUUCK, is it a sweet valley high situation where Stiles is very aware that his twin is way more attractive and confident than he is, EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE IDENTICAL, and he always ends up with the hotter significant others and more friends and Stiles guesses that's why he's attracted to the pack at first, because it's something that's just his, not his twin's too. But of course, Stiles's twin gets bit and now he's part of Derek's pack, and Derek doesn't snap at him like he snaps at Stiles, never slams him into things, fucking FIGURES, STILES'S TWIN GETS EVERYTHIIIIIIIING.”

Kalpurna/good ideas OTP.

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

Stay. by paradis (E | 1/1 | 15,537)

He leaves because the press of Derek’s lips and the sting of his teeth against Stiles’ neck are still burning his skin, and he can’t stop touching them, but then he remembers Derek telling him he’s not pack, he never was, and that he doesn’t belong here.

He leaves because Lydia asks him too, but he doesn’t go back to Beacon Hills because no one asked him to come back.

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

What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin (E | 1/1 | 17,422)

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son.

“Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”

Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off.

“God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...”

“Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

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

Home by coffeeinallcaps (E | 1/1 | 18,464)

Derek has bought a beautiful house. Stiles can't stay away. (In which everyone hangs out at Derek's place all the time and Stiles tries but fails not to fall for a certain socially inept alpha.)

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

Assistant to the Consulting Detectives by idyll (T | 9/9 | 18,674)

Stiles is going to NYU and ends up working for Sherlock and Joan.

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

Metamorphsis by happyevraftr (E | 1/1 | 20,755)

Life isn’t easy for Stiles Stilinski. This is a truth he’d come to accept a long time ago, so it’s no surprise when an enemy pack shows up in town with a mysterious Alpha that’s hell bent on revenge. Things escalate quickly when Erica goes missing and Isaac is attacked by the new pack. As if that isn’t enough to handle, Stiles own body begins to betray him and he must decide whether to die as a human, or live as a werewolf.

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

The Birthday Fic by seussian (E | 1/1 | 21,066)

It's Derek's 30th birthday, and Erica and Boyd have been kidnapped. Again.

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

Tutor!Verse series by betp (10 works | NR-M | 41,579)

They meet when Derek is seventeen and hates history almost as much as he hates his ex, Kate, and Stiles is sixteen and taking junior-level history classes. Then they fall in love and do dates on each other and I didn't mean for any of this to happen. By which I mean Sterek fic!

1. Not Another Sterek Romance (It Is Absolutely Another Sterek Romance) (T | 1/1 | 2,405) In which Derek is the worst at history and Stiles wears glasses. 2. Boys, Interrupted (NR | 1/1 | 1,329) "I am the result of your academic ennui," Stiles summarises. 3. Jeepin' (M | 1/1 | 1,368) Stiles warns Derek four days in advance, resulting in Derek unable to concentrate in any of his classes that Friday, because all he can think about is his impending gay deflowering, which--jesus fucking christ. 4. Peer Pressure (T | 1/1 | 1,615) "Can't even answer a simple question, he's too good for that. I hope he knows what we do to kids who are too good to talk to us." 5. Golden (NR | 1/1 | 947) "It's like a recipe for a summer romance movie from the 80s." 6. Catch Me a Catch (NR | 1/1 | 1,828) In which Allison will never understand Stiles' sense of humour, Scott will never understand what Stiles sees in Derek, and Derek wonders what he would spend his free time doing if he'd never met Stiles. (The answer is CoD and literally nothing else.) 7. Education (NR | 1/1 | 2,990) "I'll try anything once." He pauses. "With you. Only with you."

In which Stiles and Derek have been dating for three years, and Derek decides to try something new. 8. Viridian (NR | 1/1 | 5,967) "Dude, forget Stiles." 9. Biological Imperative (NR | 1/1 | 2,206) "I want to have children with you someday," Derek interjects firmly. "Not that I know why I seem to think that would be a good idea." Tin here. Just wanted to pop in and say that this part (part 9) is the conclusion to this series as the next part is a WIP reboot of the series.

10. i brought my pencil (NR | 3/? | 20,924) Your typical, classic nerd/jock au, but with a shittier attitude. (A reboot of this series. Sorry guys.)

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

************************************************************************

[yeonboy]

𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 ♡ choi yeonjun. ⇝ teaser

For the past two years, you have been an ordinary—if a bit more stressed than others—college student with a life so normal, it almost falls on the wrong side of boring. And then in the middle of one uneventful night, your college’s darling ace student, ace sportsman, the ace cutie that every girl has a crush on, Choi Yeonjun decides to slip into your dorm room – and your life turns upside down.

❧ choi yeonjun x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ strangers to lovers!au ♡ humor ♡ fluff

❧ words! 1 k for the teaser [~8 k for the entire fic]

❧ warnings! profanity, suggestive language, exams related anxiety, incorrect econ major related discord + and more in the actual fic (:

❧ note! hey, everyone! tho i'm not a fan of teasers without a concrete posting date, i needed to put sth out there for the sake of my brain :// mental health's been on a rollercoaster and writer's block been heavy this spring! i hope y'all enjoy this lil cracked up (and a lil concerning) bite of fluff and anticipate the actual fic!

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

Sighing again, you blindly move your hand towards the light switch in the room – only for a hand to wrap around your wrist. 

Wha—

Heart stopping and brain freezing in bone-chilling fear, you unhinge your jaw to let out a scream. But not even a whole second later, a palm is placed over your parted lips and a body pushes you to the wall next to the light switch with an urgent hush whispered in your ear.

“Please don’t scream, I’m not gonna harm you, I just need your help!”

The stranger sounds and feels like a male. 

What the hell is a strange man doing in your very all-girls dorm?

You wanna scream louder, something that this stranger senses because he suddenly presses his body tighter against you, this time dipping his face into the crook of your neck, lips against the shell of your ear when he shushes you.

Okay, now why did that cover your entire body with goosebumps? Of the good kind?

“I’m not a creep I swear, I was just escaping an embarrassing situation and this room was unlocked so I slipped in, please let me explain!”

You try to calm yourself down, taking a deep breath which immediately lets you know that this not a creep actually smells really heavenly. You kinda wanna sniff him again, but catch yourself at the last moment.

Leaning your head farther away to press it against the wall, you narrow your eyes at the short-haired silhouette of the guy that is lit up at the edges due to the light entering the room from the window directly behind him. The hand which held your wrist moves, then, and flicks the light switch.

You immediately squeeze your eyes shut due to the blast of photons across the room, and the stranger slowly steps away from you, very tenderly letting go of your mouth – which had honestly started to hurt a little – at the end. Massaging the side of your jaw, you slowly open one of your lids, and then the other.

Then you blink. And blink again. And nearly have an aneurysm because damn does the campus It-Boy look even hotter up close.

Choi Yeonjun stands before you in his pale orange hair glory, wearing a fitted off-sleeves, off-white sweater. And, shit, are those pearls around his neck? Yes. Yes, they are.

While you’re still hovering in the limbo between shock and awe, the guy launches into a rushed and stuttered explanation.

“Th–thanks for not screaming. I’m… Ugh, I don’t even know where to begin, but like – I – I was trying to surprise my girlfriend who lives in this very dorm, a floor above—you know, where all popular seniors live—and, um, just as I reacher her door I heard sounds of the…sexual nature…echoing inside, so – so I investigated and guess what? My girlfriend is fucking my best friend behind my back!”

Your jaw drops open. “I… what the hell, man?” you whisper, stunned and disgusted. “That’s so awful…”

“Right? And embarrassing.” He shakes his head. Then his eyebrows suddenly fly up. “Oh! I am Choi—”

“Yeonjun, the uni’s ace Senior. I know. Everyone does.”

A faint blush rises up his cheeks, lips pursing as he shrugs one bare shoulder. Okay, damn, his biceps have got some good definition. “Yeah… well. So you know how I was—or still am, I guess—in a relationship with—”

“Kim Yerim? Know that too, unfortunately, all my friends in all the srats are obsessed with y’all.” You give a small sigh. “Her cheating is such a pity.”

“God, I know right? This is gonna be so horrible,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and bites down on his lip.

You snap your fingers in front of his face. “Um, excuse me? Is that all? I’m sorry for you, man, truly, but um, can you leave now? You’re really wasting my very precious time.”

He really is. The only reason why you didn’t flip out yet was because—as embarrassing as it—you were distracted by the guy’s astonishingly good looks. But his beauty isn’t gonna help you pass tomorrow’s exam.

Suddenly regretting wasting the ten minutes that you had saved by ditching Chaeryeong at the convenience store, you clap your hands together and reach for your door. “Great talk! Or not? I guess? See you around, Choi Yeonjun!”

His eyes grow very wide at that and both hands come up to stop you from unlocking your door, before you have even made the move to fully turn around, and—

Oh.

Now you’re caged between the door and both his arms. The same arms with all that muscular definition you just saw up close. 

“Please don’t kick me out. Let me stay here. Please.”

This time it is your eyes that bulge out. “The hell? Why?”

He retracts his hands to brace one of them on his waist and pinch the bridge of his nose with the forefinger and thumb of the other. “I can’t leave…”

You lean away from him. “Dude, if you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on? You’ve come to the absolutely worst person. And if you’re looking for a rebound hook-up… well, could you wait till I’m done with tomorrow’s exam?”

Yeonjun’s face goes from confused to intrigued to humorous. “None of those, actually, but – I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

His wink shoots sparks through you and you immediately purse your lips. “It wasn’t an—okay, then what do you want? My econ exam is tomorrow and I stand to lose all my credits if I flunk this, so please—”

“Wait, econ?” He spins on his heels to peek at your textbook and the slides you had pulled up on your laptop, leaving you gaping behind him. “Ooh, Consumer Behavior? This is a good one. D’you have flash cards? Don’t skip decision roles, Professor Jeon is obsessed with ’em.”

You look at the guy with wide eyes. “Uh—what?”

Looking at you over his shoulder, Yeonjun flashes you a grin. “You’re talking to a 99 scorer in Consumer Behavior.”

— COMING SOON!

© yeonboy 2024 // do not steal, copy or repost. respect your local content creators, kaythanks.

[curlyhairedsimp]

Cupid’s Sense? Failed Successfully :)

Mabel starts to see her brother and Pacifica hanging out more so she starts to think they might be secretly dating.

Meanwhile Pacifica is pulling teeth with Dipper on how to woo his sister and sort of get his approval. He meant a lot to Mabel (and she really likes her)

(They are like 16 in this fic.)

Mabel had noticed something strange going on with Pacifica whenever she was around her brother. All three of them would go hang out and Pacifica would make a real effort to get to know them. And by them she really meant Dipper. Mabel even had a list of things Pacifica did to prove it. She had at least 4 reasons.

The first super obvious reason was that Pacifica started to come on their mystery adventures that Dipper took them on. Even though she complained the whole time she kept being helpful. Like making sure Mabel didnt fall behind when running away, catching her before she fell, and she even figured something out before dipper could! She thought that was pretty cool.

The second reason was she had noticed Pacifica arguing with Dipper more. Like there was tension between them and Pacifica always seemed to swallow her words. LIKE SHE DIDNT KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS WHAT SHE WAS FEELING- ehem in Mabel’s humble opinion.

The third reason was cause she was actually being really nice to Mabel herself. She imagined Pacifica thought she needed to get in her good graces. She did tons of nice things for Mabel like taking her out to lunch, listening to her about her art projects, helping her with her art projects, and she takes hours to helps Mabel with her summer homework. Even when Dipper gave up on her for the day! So yeah Pacifica was awesome. Sure she wasn’t straight forward about her intentions and was a little mean in execution but the thought was definitely there.

“So what do you girls think? Dipifica? Pacdip?”

“Uhh I don’t know Mabel. What’s the forth reason?” Candy spoke up and looking at her with her head tiled to the side clearly thinking.

Mabel proudly announced, “My Cupid Sense!”

“Cool! Does it come with the twin thing?”

“Nah that’s just my epic eye for romance!”

“Did you ask Dipper how he felt?” Candy asked with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“Oh come on Candy like he’d admit it!”

“I don’t know Candy I have to go with Mabel here. Dipper always doubles down when it comes to her and Pacifica doesn’t bother with people she doesn’t care about.”

“I don’t know something just doesn’t feel right.”

Candy look to be really contemplating but Mabel knew just what would convince her

“I’ll prove it to you Candy!“

“How?” Grenda asks and Mabel grins.

“You’ll see!”

The “you’ll see” in question was Grenda and Candy following them. By them it’s Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica who were going to the carnival that was passing by this summer. Mabel has asked Pacifica to come with her and dipper which she jumped at the opportunity. Pacifica looked good when she came and while it was still extravagant it definitely had more of Pacifica’s style in mind. She looked very pretty Mabel admitted to herself. She felt her cheeks get hot at the thought and fanned herself a little bit.

“Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

“Mabel we’re outside in the summer.”

Dipper was giving her a look of judgement. Mabel deflected and turned her head away from him. It’s not like she was gonna say the real reason here!

“Can’t a girl complain? Jeez Dipper.”

Dipper rolls his eyes before mumbling,“whatever”

As Dipper walked away Pacifica put the back of her hand on Mabel’s head and mumbled, “ You don’t feel hot.”

Mabel didn’t know why but her blush deepened.

“O-OH YEAH! I’M JUST EXCITED! HAHA!”

Mabel didn’t know why she was being so loud but it didn’t even seem to startle Pacifica. She just smiled and laughed a little bit.

“We should catch up before Dipper does something dumb again.”

Pacifica actually grabbed her hand like she usually has been doing a lot too recently actually now that she thinks about it.

“Yeah totally-!” Something caught Mabel’s eye a Giant Llama Plushie IN A PINK SWEATER! “IS THAT A LLAMA PLUSHIE?!”

Pacifica was quick to act and take her to the stand. She pulled her hand a little and started walking to the booth before saying, “come on don’t you wanna win the plushie?”

“But what about Dipper-?”

Pacifica cut Mabel off, “He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine. Come on we have a Llama plush to win!”

Mabel didn’t argue with Pacifica and followed her without much resistance. Pacifica paid for her turn and got it first try for Mabel. Mabel squealed in excitement in receiving the plush. It was one of those stupid knock down the pins but clearly were extra glued to the wood. Grunkle Stan taught her how to notice those tricks and Pacifica had a really good arm also great aim. They had run around a couple stalls cause Mabel had seen a few more things she liked. Pacifica managed to get each one she wanted.

“These are so cute! Thank you Pacifica!”

Pacifica got a little embarrassed started to play with her gloves when she got shy.

“It was nothing…You taught me the stupid tricks.”

“Yeah but I have noodle arms compared to you! Didn’t you start softball last summer? You must have gotten better!”

“I’m gonna be team captain next year.”

Pacifica said proudly and confident like she had no doubts in the world. Mabel always thought that Pacifica speaking that way was something she admired about her.

“I bet you are-! Wait! Oh crap! Dipper!”

They had left him behind ages ago!

“The knucklehead is over there talking to Wendy.”

Mabel looked to where Pacifica was talking about and yeah Dipper was talking to Wendy. Dipper had stopped crushing on Wendy last summer but he still admired her. She was really cool still. Mabel was worried at Pacifica might not know that and it bothered her. What if Pacifica got her feelings hurt cause Dipper is an idiot and can’t figure out his feeling?!

“DIPPER! LOOK AT WHAT PACIFICA WON ME!”

She put the Llama in Dipper’s face getting him away from Wendy and she looked back to see Pacifica was smiling. Which made her smile.

“Ugh Mabel! Get it out of my face! I can see it!”

“But she’s so fluffy Dipper! And Pacifica was so cool!”

“Oh yeah? The little west got you the plushies?”

“Yeah! She knocked down the pins like bam! In one go and her got so much better!”

“Oh yeah little west must have spunk. Maybe she’d like to go wood cutting. Good exercise for the arms and we can see how strong she is.”

Pacifica made a face and was about to speak up but Mabel had spoke up first.

“Oh my gosh yes! We can all were match lumber jack outfits so we can fit in and look cool like Wendy! Pacifica please come!”

Mabel was practically begging and completely forgot about her initial plans. Pacifica looked up and sighed before looking back at Mabel.

“Fine but we’re going shopping together.”

“DEAL! This is gonna be so fun!”

Mabel was hugging Pacifica and practically jumping for joy. Before she realized she was hugging Pacifica and how nice she smelled. And she hugging Pacifica. She felt her face to bright red and she pulled away from her quickly. When she realize Pacifica cheeks were a little red and she was looking away. When Mabel turned her head Dipped had a smug look on his face.

“What was that?” Mabel said feeling a little sour.

Dipper looked at her and said, “Nothing.”

Mabel liked that answers less but before she could complain Wendy pointed out that they should probably head home before Stan or Ford comes to look for them. Before they managed to leave the park Grenda and Candy were waiting for them at the entrance. Which admittedly Mabel forgot they were following her today.

“Northwest. Bring my sister home safe.”

“She’ll be brought back happy and healthy.”

“Huh what? Aren’t we going home together?”

“Nope. I’m gonna walk Candy and Grenda home. Then I’ll see you at the Shack. Mabel do Pacifica a favor and listen to what she’s gonna say.”

Dipper put a hand on her shoulder while saying that before lightly patting it and leaving with her other friends. She was left in confusion and Pacifica clearly was anxiously messing with her gloves again. Which made her feel really bad.

“Ugh Dipper is such an idiot! How could he just not even notice that you like him?! Leaving me with his crush and-“

Instead of Pacifica getting upset with her. She took off her gloves and shoved them in her pocket. She gently took both of Mabel’s hand holding them almost preciously.

“Mabel… I uh- I don’t really know how to say it.”

She breathed in a looking actually scared. That struck something in Mabel since Pacifica was a naturally confident person even in distress. She really should listen to Dipper sometimes.

“Hey i-it’s okay! I’m a really good listener!”

Mabel tangled their fingers more to comfort her.

“Just listen Mabel. Don’t cut me off.” She shot her a weak glare and Mabel nodded seriously. Cause she can be serious. “I don’t like Dipper.”

“But I thought-” Pacifica glared, “Sorry. Sorry.”

“I like you. Like actually like like you.” That made Mabel’s jaw drop but Pacifica kept speaking, “A-And I know you might not like me back. I’m not the kindest or most compassionate person. I’m really bad talking about my feelings and I can be really mean to you-”

Mabel tried to be romantic and cut Pacifica off by kissing her but she ended up hitting her braces to her teeth. Which ouch.

“I-Im sorry! I didn’t mean to- are you okay?!”

Pacifica uncharacteristically broke out into a fit of giggles which relieved Mabel. Pacifica looked actually relieved though.

“I-If you want still w-we can try again. I’ll be more careful. Promise! Only if you want to-!”

Pacifica this time kissed her and it was perfect. When they separated felt like she saw stars.

“Here I was nervous that my hands were sweaty.”

“Does this mean I can kiss you whenever I want?!”

Pacifica giggled a little and nodded her head putting their foreheads together. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“Really?! Does this mean we’re girlfriends?!”

“Yeah… I think it does.”

“Heck yeah! I got a girlfriend before Dipper!”

That made Pacifica snort and Mabel thought it was adorable but Pacifica made her promise not to mention it in front of other people. Which soon after they went back to the shack. Mabel got left at the door step since Pacifica said if she came in now Mabel would definitely tell everyone they’re dating the minute they got inside.

“But can’t I tell people that we’re dating?”

“I wanna take you out on our first date before that… I-I wanna do it properly or something.”

“Ah shucks! You’re making me feel all special.”

Pacifica smiled at her and tucked a strand of Mabel’s hair behind her ear with a little smile.

“That’s the point. I’ll see you next time.”

She kissed Mabel’s cheek before saying goodbye and Mabel went into the shack absolutely swooning. Dipper was there with that smug look from the carnival. She gave her brother one good look before she threw her arms around him rubbing their cheeks together.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”

“Never suggest I like Pacifica Northwest again.”

“But we’re twins Dipper you can’t tell me you don’t find her gorgeous and cool!”

“Get off! No way!”

“Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!”

(Author’s Note: I was thinking about getting The Grunkle’s react along with her friends I told you so. Or at least Candy’s. Maybe do another one about their first date if this does well)

[twopoppies]

Hi, I’m a new larrie and I believe them to be dating now and back then too, but the only things that are throwing me off are when they (mostly Harry lol) “confirm” stuff like that.

Like when Harry got asked who his first crush was and he answered Louis and when someone asked if they are dating and he says yes. Now, why that’s throwing me off is because they were/are supposed to keep it a secret, so help me out. Do you think he did that as rebellion or do you think he wanted to tell the truth, so he did, but was hoping it came across as a joke?

I personally lean towards the latter, but I’d like to hear someone else’s opinion to help me form my thoughts better. x

Hi, love. Those two moments happened so early on. When H was asked who his first crush was, he very much looked like he thought for a moment, then smiled when he said it, and was very serious when she asked how Louis felt about him. I don’t think he meant it as a joke and I don’t think he was rebelling. That moment and the Mario Kart moment were both interviewed SugarScape and both are still all over the internet, so there seems to have been some moments where the insinuation (or confirmation) of the two of them being together between 2011 and 2012 were allowed/tolerated/encouraged.

The video when he confirms that they’re dating was interesting because he looks almost exhausted and somewhat hesitant to answer the question, but still does. And when the girl says, “I told you/I thought so!” he just outright beams, as if he was expecting her to freak out or be upset, but then is so happy when she’s supportive.

There was definitely something odd going on around the time because it’s around the same time of that Much Music interview where the woman asks about Larry (starts at 16:00) and tells them about how girls like reading fic about two guys they fancy being together and you can tell how hard it is for Harry and Louis to wrap their heads around the idea. To me, it very much seems like they’d been explicitly told that, as Louis says, if someone is a Harry fan, for example, they’re not going to like the idea of Louis and Harry together. And then the journalist is like, oh that’s not true at all! You can see their little heads explode.

My basic feeling is that it’s possible the label has an inkling that Louis was gay from day one and was okay with it. But they hadn’t expected Harry to not be straight, as well. And they hadn’t expected the two to fall for each other. But there seemed to be some leniency in the early days. The closet came down hard when there was a serious push to break into the US charts—H*ylor started, Louis was “loved up” with Eleanor, and Harry and Louis barely interacted. As fans dug their heels in, the closet got worse and the narrative shifted to the homophobic “fans ruined their friendship” nonsense. That then evolved into Harry vs OT3 (ie: Harry is too good for the band) and so on.

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. Someone else makes a brief appearance, no names. Sunny is just likeable to many people it seems. Also, I'm not nice to Buggy when he tries to flirt. I definitely write him as a bit of a disaster when it happens. It's just going to get a bit worse from here. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. Also I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads, reblogs, and replies on this story. I love everyone of you and it makes my day brighter knowing there are people enjoying this! So thank you thank you thank you! <3

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 8

Buggy came back with a bouquet of flowers for you that afternoon. He made sure he wore clean clothes, had his hair down, and tried to look his best with his new cravat you gifted him earlier in the day. He was going to ask you out for a proper date. After the two of you kissed in the backroom it seemed like the right thing to do. He hoped you would like the flowers; he managed to find the best bouquet and steal it on his way to see you.

He ignored the large man that left the shop before him, his focus was on getting the flowers to you. Maybe he could get another kiss from you, though he expected you wouldn't do it in front of your boss. However, he didn’t anticipate when he entered the shop that you would be glaring in his direction with Benji hiding behind you while an angry Miss Pins was lowering her shotgun.

“Oh, it’s just him.” Your boss muttered as you stopped glaring and smiled. Benji sighed and crossed his arms as he tried to not look scared.

“What now?” He asked as he glared at Buggy. “Who are the flowers for?”

“Ignore them.” You said as you walked over to Buggy and took the flowers from him. “These are beautiful! Thank you!”

“Buggy, what are you doing here?” Miss Pins asked as she looked between you and the bouquet. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing!” He insisted. You kissed him on the cheek before you went to find a vase to put them in. He crossed his arms and smirked at your boss. “Why, afraid I’m going to steal her away from here?”

Miss Pins reached for her shotgun again as you came out of the back. You went over to Buggy and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go to lunch, okay? I need some fresh air.”

You didn’t wait for an answer before leading him out of the shop. He glanced back at your boss before he turned his attention to you. There was something off about this, you were acting a little weird, looking around as you held his hand tightly. He finally stopped in his tracks and frowned.

“What’s going on?” He demanded. “Why was the kid scared? What happened before I came by?”

“N-Nothing, Buggy.” You laughed nervously. “Nothing, let’s go eat, okay?”

He didn't believe you but he didn’t want to make a scene in the street. Something happened to make you nervous and he wanted to know what, but he didn’t want to possibly ruin a date with you so he decided to wait. He’d ask when he took you back to the shop.

~

Lunch went well. His table manners were not the best, but what did you expect from a pirate? When he seemed to be finished eating, you wasted no time in reaching over and wiping crumbs off his face with his napkin. He frowned at you when you did that, his cheeks pink. He'd be fine to get more food on his face if it meant you touching him again. You just smiled and sat back in your seat.

“What? Pirates with food on their faces aren’t scary, Buggy.” You teased as you took a sip of your drink. He said nothing as he reached over to steal a bit of food off your plate. 

“I'd still be scary!” He shot back with a mouth full of food. 

“I'm absolutely terrified right now.” You chuckled as you rested your elbows on the table. “You're so scary.”

He picked this drink up and frowned at you. He was scary when he wanted to be, but he never wanted you to be scared of him. He thought back to the shop, with a scared Benji and you glaring at the door. “Hey, what happened back at the shop before I came in?”

“Oh, um…” You had hoped he would forget that. “About that… an old customer came in that I hadn't seen in about five years.”

“Okay?” Buggy tossed his drink back before gesturing to the waiter for a refill on their drinks. “And?”

“Well, last time I saw him he demanded I marry him… and he came back demanding if again.” You told him with a shrug. “I didn't even know his name, and he just calls me Shop Girl, and I… didnt want to marry him then and don't want to marry him now.”

“He demanded?” Buggy repeated, his jaw dropping. “Did you say yes?”

You stared at him for a moment. He was sometimes really dumb. “No. Why would I say yes?”

“I-I don't know!” He shot back. “I saw that one guy this morning, y’know, kissing your hand and you touching him! Maybe this guy liked that you did that and wanted you to marry him!” He looked away from you for a moment before muttering, “You’re nice, I bet lots of guys wanna marry you.”

“Buggy, shut up.” You told him kindly, and he listened to you. “I did not say yes because I don't know him.” You sighed as the waiter came by and refilled your drinks. “And as for my customer from today, I didn't expect him to kiss my hand.”

Buggy crossed his arms as he leaned back in his seat, looking away from you again. “Did you like it? Didn't you think he was handsome?”

“Normally I don't expect customers to kiss me.” You retorted. Buggy turned red and scratched his cheek. 

“About that…”

“I don't think you think of you as a customer anymore after last night, Buggy.” You told him. “And I didn't mind you kissing me, I actually liked it.”

He glanced at you briefly before looking away again. You liked that he kissed you. You weren't disgusted or upset by it. You just said you liked that he kissed you. His mind started racing. He wanted to kiss you again but would it be okay out in public? Did you care about that sort of thing?

“As for this persistent customer, he came back today and didn't want to leave.” You told him as you looked down at the table with a frown. “Benji was actually scared, which is a first so far. This man was… intense.”

“What's his name?” Buggy asked..

“I don't know.” You sighed. 

“He wants you to marry him and you don't even know his name?” Buggy looked confused by this. “And you don't want to marry him, right?” 

You looked at Buggy with an exasperated expression. “You're so dumb. No, I don't want to marry him. I would marry you before I marry anyone else, Buggy. Plus, he… seemed dangerous. I don't want to be with someone like that.”

Buggy's eyes lit up. Oh, so you would consider marrying him. Was it too soon to ask you? Were you two even in any sort of relationship? He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment before reaching across the table to grab your hand. In doing so he managed to knock over both drinks. You were able to avoid them but he wasn't so lucky. The table just happened to tilt in his direction and his entire body shuddered as the liquids spilled onto his lap, soaking into his pants.

He expected you to start laughing, to walk away and leave him to deal with this himself. Why would he expect anything else? Instead you pulled some berry from your pocket for lunch and removed your sweater, holding it out to him.

“Tie this around your waist and we'll go back to the shop.” You told him gently as he took it from you. While he did as he was told, you used napkins to mop up some of the spilled liquid. He said nothing once he was done, instead watching you to tell him what to do next. You held your hand out to him and he took it, giving it a squeeze before you led him out of the cafe and back to the shop.

Why couldn't any of this go right for him? He tries to flirt with you, gets insulted and falls out of his chair. Tries to flirt with you on your birthday and ends up upsetting you. And on his own birthday he was a drunk mess. And then he managed to kiss you and…he fell over. Now he tried to hold your hand and possibly ruined his pants. And each time (except your birthday) you were there to help him. Why were you so nice to him? He didn't feel like he deserved it.

You ignored your boss and Benji as you took Buggy into the backroom. You looked him over for a moment before going to a rack in the back corner of the room, grabbing a clean pair of pants for him.

“These should fit you.” You told him as you handed them over. You turned your back, allowing him a moment of privacy as he changed into the clean pants. It felt better than the damp ones he had on. He sighed, his hand tapping you on the shoulder when he was done, holding them out to you. It was a little jarring to see a floating hand behind you, but you took the pants and tossed them in the wash bin. “You okay?”

He sat on the chair and leaned forward, shoulders dropped as he held his head in his hands, face burning as he refused to look at you. 

“Buggy-”

“Don't.” He mumbled as he covered his face with his hands. “Why can't it go right? Ever?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked him as you walked over to him, touching his shoulder. He hesitated and looked up at you. You were looking at him with a worried expression, your hand resting on his shoulder. Why were you so nice to him? He didn't deserve any of it.

“Nothing.” He looked back down. 

“Do you want a hug?” 

He looked back up at you. Yes, yes he very much wanted a hug from you, anything to be closer to you, touching you, anything. Buggy stood up from the chair and you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around him, pulling him against you as he closed his eyes. He let his head rest on your shoulder, his arms encircling you as your hand rubbed small circles on his back while your other hand touched the back of his head gently. 

This… this was nice. The familiarity and safety he felt in your arms was unexpected but he wouldn't fight it. This is where he belonged, in your arms forever. He never wanted to let go of you. 

[babydollfoster]

First Date with Team Free Will

a/n: i honest to god don’t think i’ve posted a fic on here despite how much i talk about it >_<!! so here’s somethin i threw together in the span of a couple of hours because i’m on a rewatch and i’m halfway thru s4 and i LOVE the boys:( so here! proof i can write, not just talk about it! also afaik you can read this as any gender :) fem, masc, neither, both… don’t think there’s any defining qualities. much love!

pairings: sam winchester/reader, dean winchester/reader, castiel/reader

warnings: fluff, implied sexual content (w/ dean)

SAM

he’s SUCH a romantic. god, look at him, just- when he asked you, so sweet ‘nd kind, if he could take you out some night, how could you say no? dean gives his blessing by handing over the impala’s keys the next day and you and sam end up at a secondhand bookstore. you judge books by their covers and eventually settle on swapping something you enjoyed for the other’s; sam slips you a book called their eyes were watching god (“don’t- don’t give me that look. the title isn’t ‘cringe’! it’s beautiful. i promise you’ll enjoy it.”) and you hand rebecca over with a beaming grin, which falls into a look of surprise when you learn he hasn’t read it (“it’s a classic! how- okay, it’s a slow start, but you’ll love it.”) you grab takeout (your pick, sam insisted) and end up at a park, rolling a dusty picnic blanket out from the depths of the trunk and sitting under a tree, swapping quips and comments every once in a while. eventually, you end up with your head in sam’s lap and his hand in your hair, neither of you paying attention to your books no more, no, now you’re just… talking. it’s domestic and loving and romantic so you sit up, weasel your way into sammy’s lap and kiss him so delicately and he does the same back until you’re both almost devouring each other, literally stealing the other’s breath until you pull away, panting and giggling until sam whispers, “can we do this again?” and you whisper “every single day, sam.”

DEAN — MDNI, 16+

he sticks to the classics. he takes you out for dinner at the nearest diner and a midnight showing of whatever horror movie is out right now. you share a bucket of popcorn as you’re snuggled in the back right corner, cackling at cheesy jumpscares (“oh, i’m sooo scared.” “shut up, dee!”) and dry fake screams before you stumble back into baby after having smuggled in a flask of whiskey and collapse into the front bench, still too buzzed to drive, and kiss each other until your heads spin and the stars blur into one. eventually you pull away long enough for dean to drive you to the motel and you collapse into bed together; nothing happens, no, not on his first date with you. he wants to treat you right, sweetheart, but you’re both stripped down to your underwear nonetheless and hold each other close like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. the next morning, on the other hand, once the headache has set in and you’re oh so beautiful in the morning light, dean settles himself between your legs and noses your thighs apart. who are you to say no when dean’s right there and ready, huh?

CASTIEL

cas hasn’t ‘dated’, not on earth, certainly not in heaven, but he rifled through his host’s distant memories and took some inspiration from when jimmy courted amelia. so when cas slips his hands into yours one darkened evening, standing on the sidewalk in light rain, and asks if he ‘could take you out sometime’, you smirk and say, “how’d you learn that one?” but you agree nonetheless, and let the angel take the reigns. he whisks you away, dropping a message to sam and dean that you’re both in california and will be for the next three days and not to worry, he’ll bring you back unharmed (the boys freak, but you both ignore their calls). he takes you window-shopping, you eat at famous spots in LA and spend a little too much money, you sit atop the hollywood sign and learn the constellations, you teach cas how to have fun late one night at the beach and when you’re both breathless, backs covered in sand as you stare up at the heavens, he turns his head to you and asks, “may i kiss you?” and you whisper, “i thought you’d never ask.” and sure, he’s a little clueless, but he’s confident in how he has the rest of forever to learn how to please you, the way a human would.

taglist: no one yet! ask away :)

[lexosaurus]

And I'm back on my nerdiness!

This fic is a crossover between Danny Phantom x The Martian. You do not have to have read or watched The Martian to understand this fic. Although, I've convinced a double-digit number of people to read The Martian since I started this fic and I think that speak volumes to how obsessed I am about this media.

xxxx

Summary: When Astronaut Mark Watney went to Mars, he knew there was a chance he'd never come home. Now, though, he's determined to last long enough for NASA to save him because this whole dying for science thing is not as fun as it sounds.

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton is just trying to keep his identity a secret amidst a potential crisis with his powers. Seriously, what's up with that weird current under his skin? Why is he having so much trouble controlling it? And why does it feel so familiar...?

In a fit of determination (and possible stupidity), Danny goes to Mars to save Watney, only to add to both their crises when he arrives and can't get home. Will NASA save them? Will Danny have a home to return to if they do?

Chapter WC: 5801

Fic Tags: Danny Fenton & Mark Watney, Canon Divergence, Ecton AU

Chapter excerpt under the cut

xxxx

“I’m the potato of—what day is it?” Mark glanced at the computer. “May seventeenth! The spooky seventeenth potato ghost!”

“You’re delusional,” was Danny’s response. “And also still not over the fact that you missed May fourth.”

Mark lowered the potato. “Well, usually, I rely on supernerd Johannsen for vital dates like that. But since she’s gone, it was your job to pick up the slack! Haven't you seen Star Wars?”

“Of course I have!” Danny exclaimed, crossing his arms. It was almost offensive that Mark would think for a second that Danny hadn’t seen Star Wars. “But you forgot about May fourth too! Don’t try to pin this on me. I’m not your personal C3P-O.”

“No, you’re more of a Chewbacca.”

Okay, now his angsty mood had entirely turned into offense. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m Han Solo, obviously.”

“Why do you get to be Han Solo?”

It was as if Danny had just asked why rockets exist if Mark’s expression was anything to go by. His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and his mouth opened with a comical amount of confidence—or was it arrogance—as he gestured to himself and answered, “Well, duh.”

As if that were supposed to sum it up.

“That explains nothing!” Danny argued.

“It’s quite literally the only bit of explanation you need, Chewie.”

“I’m not Chewbacca.”

“And the sky isn’t orange.”

Okay, all the prying into Danny’s personal business? That was rough, Danny had to admit. But this? 

This was unforgivable.

[hello-galad]

No one asked for this but here i am shoving my Cid age-related headcanons down y’all’s throat.

This all started because I saw @renegadeem ‘s comment on a post about Valenwind and Cid’s age and the Curious Case of Square Enix Not Giving Us Characters That Are Canonically Over 40 (then you take a look at some of them and you know in your heart they are 62, twice divorced and currently screaming at some kids to get off their lawn).

Alright, buckle up. I’m about to monologue, ladies, gents, non-binary peeps and everybody else in between:

Note: Have in mind I headcanon Shera to be two years younger than Cid and to have also been part of the Shinra Youth Science Program but at different years. Note note: this might change in the future because I’m like a sponge and i absorb hcs.

At 16 years-old Cid Highwind Gets into the Shinra Youth Science Program at Midgar.

I’m sure Shinra has programs like these to catch brilliant minds that help them build their empires (labor force that already know how to do the job you want them to) like most transnational companies do in our world.

There, all students must take military training, they even share some classes with the Cadets for SOLDIER.

On a side note, given his stats in the game and his weapon of choice I say he comes from a family of dragoons and Heidegger takes an interest in him but Cid is focused on becoming an engineer and that is more useful to Shinra.

There is a fic i really love that sorta touches the topic of Cid’s family as dragoons by one of my favorite authors Vinvalen right here (Valenwind: Crusader rain) .

At 20 years-old Cid graduates top of his class as Mechanical engineer. He starts working on building aircraft and flight hardware for Shinra as he starts his career to become an Aerospace Engineer.

At 24 years-old he graduates top of his class as Aerospace Engineer at Shinra.

At 26 years-old Cid gets his pilot’s license with more than 500 hours of flight. Starts the prototype for what he started calling THE SHINRA I. He would later develop the blueprints further to build what will be THE HIGHWIND.

At 28 years of age Cid and Shera present the initiative for the Space Program to Shinra with the initial project and blueprints for a rocket and satellite. The Satellite should have been deployed first and left to circle around The Planet in the upper orbit a year before the rocket launch.

Shinra approves of the project eight months later and Cid Highwind becomes Chief Engineer of it with Shera as Chief scientist and his second in command. The base is settled in a small town outside Midgard that will later be known as Rocket Town.

At 32 years old, Shera (30) and Cid get married. They never really dated, but they spent so much time together that they both decided “why not?”.

Evidently, that goes downhill from there because tHAT IS NOT HOW HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS ARE BUILT.

When Cid is 33 years old, the first satellite gets deployed earlier. The mission is a complete success and Shinra has plans to put a couple more in orbit except instead of using them for research, Scarlet and Heidegger wish to weaponize them with Mako Canons. Cid is against this at first but understands that he can’t really say no to Shinra when they are the ones funding the Space Program.

Him and Shera don’t really talk to each other outside of work, they do fuck occasionally to let out steam but that keeps happening less and less.

When Cid is 36 years old Shera almost dies and Cid stops the launch to save her.

Cid is downgraded from Chief engineer and one year later, Shinra cancels the Space Program taking away every single blueprint and infrastructure project Cid ever created when working for Shinra and they basically try to alienate him when Cid tries to fight back. Shera keeps working for them in charge of space communications. Cid is devastated.

As a side project, Cid starts the blueprint and building of the BRONCO I (Later known as the Tiny Bronco. Later known as a) the plane Cloud almost broke and b) The “ARE WE SERIOUSLY USING MY FUCKIN PLANE AS A BOAT DAMMIT FINE WHATEVER IT TAKES TO FUCK SHINRA OVER”).

When Cid is 37 years old, him and Shera get divorced, the divorce documentation was initiated by Shera. Despite the fact that they haven’t even slept together in the same room in literal years, Cid was willing to live unhappily for her sake. She decides to stop that, but her mental health is still not the best and she has developed an attachment to him so she stays in Rocket Town “Taking care of him” as Cid goes in what Shera is afraid is a sort of self-destructive path.

Cid works on personal projects, flying people and cargo across The Planet and fixing and building things for other people. Shinra sends a Turk sometimes to spy on what he’s doing to make sure that whatever he’s building isn’t something that goes against Shinra. After all, they know he’s capable of building a ship with the right tools and Cid is quite crafty.

At 38 years old Cid is angry at Shinra, Shera, the planet, everyone really, and specially himself. He loathes Rocket Town but can’t bring himself to actually leave. He thinks he has to deal with what he thinks was the failure of his lifetime (“To atone for his sins” in a way *cough cough*). He starts flying people around and killing the Mako infected beasts that attack Rocket Town occasionally. He’s kept himself in shape all this time because habits are hard to break and he’s mildly paranoid of Turks (with good reason) and other shit he knows Shinra has been developing.

In the year he reaches 39 years of age he meets a group of eco-terrorist weirdos that seem to travel with the daughter of Ilfana, a scientist he once had the hots for back at Shinra.

Said group is made of a rogue traumatized SOLDIER, a girl who could kick his ass with her fists, Ilfana’s daughter who is actually a part of a now extinct ancient human race, what appears to be a talking lion, a robot cat that rides a mog, a teenage ninja girl that gets a kick out of calling him old, a mother hen in the shape of a very ripped man with a gun for an arm and a gunslinger vampire.

Then Cid Highwind goes to space, Vincent is next to him on the Rocket, Shera is Chief Mission Control working along with his old team who also decided to say “fuck you” to Shinra and have taken over a building. This is the start of a new chapter for him, finally.

By this point Cid had been telling himself he is not in love with Vincent for almost a year, you know, like a liar. He has never loved anyone like he loves Vincent. He used to love Shera, of course, but not like this. He still cares for her, but when he married Shera they were both 30 and it seemed like the right next thing they had to do. He never bothered to learn about Shera’s favorite books outside the ones related to their work or which desserts would make her close her eyes in delight. They would fuck when they were horny and sleep on the same bed but never did Cid whispered bad poetry against her collarbone and slept better when he could feel her hair against his shoulder.

When Sephiroth is defeated, Meteor is stopped by Holy and everyone goes home for a while to rest, him and Vincent talk and Vincent knows that he wants to stay with Cid but he is still so scared. Years of torture and trauma are slow to heal, sometimes they don’t heal ever, and Cid is okay with that. Whatever Vincent needs, Cid will give him. Vincent loves Cid so much he is willing to try.

Shera and Cid talk and she stays at the house for one more year before she finally decides to go over everything that happened and starts living her own life for herself.

When Cid is 41 years of age, him and Shera create HIGHWIND Corp as co-owners with Shera as CEO and Cid as Chief engineer. They work alongside the WRO to rebuilt the planet using sustainable energy and building sustainable hardware and software. Cid knows Shinra is involved, with Rufus re-building Shinra with an eco-perspective now. This time though, HIGHWIND Corp is negotiating through the WRO and Cid and Shera are not afraid to say “fuck you, no”.

Vincent comes and goes from Rocket Town. Cid buys some land almost in the middle of nowhere and stablishes his house, hangar and workshop there, Vincent follows. He has his own room at the house even if Cid and him sleep in the same bed most of the time and Vincent spends a lot of time perched somewhere on a crate looming over Cid at the workshop, usually reading and listening to Cid work.

Yuffie is also a common guest and she has her own room there as well.

Vincent receives a call from Reeve, there’s been a couple of disappearances and an organization that calls itself “the underground” seem to be responsible. Cid flies Vincent around on his mission to destroy the underground and happily blows some shit up.

After literal decades, Vincent finally faces the fact that he was a victim, that Lucretia was just as guilty as Hojo. He discovers what happened to Grimoire, visits his mother’s grave and is finally on the path to believing that he was not responsible for the awful things done to him.

Turns out that Vincent’s past demons are worst than his actual very real demons. He gets into common ground with them and they recognize him not only as their host but as their link to the Planet and are willing to fight for him.

Chaos decides to go against their nature as a demigod of death and destruction and they defeat Omega.

Chaos doesn’t go back to the planet, he stays with Vincent, although their relationship changes from “I was trapped inside in this vessel against my will and I’m angry” to “you are my host and we take care of the host, thank you for being our link to The Planet”.

The others agree. Vincent receives them not because he has to, but because he wants to.

[Vincent goes to Lucretia’s cave after that and he tells her about what he found in her and Hojo’s archives, tells her that he’s sorry he couldn’t protect her and that he knows and remembers what she did to him. For the first time he is not seeing her as perfect, just as she was: a scientist who wanted results, a human who was moved by the power of knowledge, imperfect, responsible for some of the scars on his body and his mind. She was not responsible for the perfect imagine of her he made up in his head. For his own unresolved trauma that lead him to believe he had to love her and she could have loved him.

Vincent tells her that Grimoire’s death was not her fault. He tells her what he knows now of Chaos, how they are more than just a creature, more than just rare materia.

Then, Vincent tells Lucretia about Cid. About how he loves him and the way he loudly snores. About how Cid loves going star-watching. About how he’s been painting, The Planet and Vincent being his favorite subjects.

Vincent tells her about how he was so scared of falling in love again but then in those moments after defeating Omega and realizing he might die for real this time, he was more scared of Cid not knowing he loved him.

He tells her about how, when he fell to the ground, Chaos in distress inside of him, Vincent too tired, too many bones broken and internal bleeding to move, the realization that he was not healing settling in; he thought about his life, about his parents and Veld, about his new friends and Aerith, who he knew was watching over them from the livestream, about the letter Tifa would carry with her everywhere, the beautiful strokes of Aerith’s handwriting unmistakeable, even when a couple of years ago, tears had soaked the paper. About Cloud crying every night after he managed to remember who he was before he was experimented on by Hojo, about him carefully cradling the dog tags Tseng gave him after Meteor was gone, the same name on them that Cloud used to whisper on those long nights when he thought everyone in the party was already asleep: “Zack”.

He thought about Sephiroth believing Jenova was his mother instead of knowing of Lucretia, of having his own father treat him like an experiment. He thought of that young SOLDIER, Genesis, half broken and willing to sleep forever, just like Vincent once did, until he was reminded there’s more to live for.

He thought of Marlene and a distressed Barret wondering if his daughter was still alive, of Nanaki, still young and a guardian now. He thought of Shera and her husband and how their daughter liked frogs and helping Uncle Cid build rockets made of cardboard.

Thought of her, Lucretia, and how Vincent’s love for her sprouted out of a promise to Grimoire to keep her safe before he disappeared mixed with the guilt that he couldn’t keep his promise. Thought of dumbapple pie from the dumbapple tree that randomly started growing in Cid’s land, about spring and Cid and Vincent building their garden.

He thought about home.

Finally in what would become the moment Vincent begins to let go he thanks her, forgives her. Then, the Planet finally lets Lucretia go, the cristal she was trapped in atoning for her own sins breaks and she finally joins the Lifestream. ]

When Cid turns 43 years old, AVALANCHE celebrates at the Seventh Heaven, there are old and new faces alike, almost all of them familiar. Shera and her husband and kid are there along with an older man with a scar on his face that Vincent calls “partner”. The Turks had the nerve to turn up but Cid stops giving them the evil eye when Tseng walks straight to Vincent’s “Partner”, eyes red and upper lip trembling and hugs him. All this in seconds before the Turk is back to his serene almost stoic face.

Rufus Shinra sends a present with them, of fucking course. Reeve takes it from Cid’s hands before he rips it apart. Funnily enough, its a bottle of his favorite whiskey and an actual damn letter reading “My gift to you is not having to see my face for the whole day, you are welcome. No, the whiskey is not poisoned. Stop being so paranoid Captain Highwind” in it. “Yah, I’ll stop being paranoid of damn Shinra when that fuckin’ brat stops wearin’ suits with more belts than the ones that’re supposed to keep yer pants up and yer gun in place, dammit!”

When Cid is 50 years of age, him and Vincent attend Yuffie’s wedding (they are like her parents. She didnt imprint on them, they imprinted on her. Vincent still calls her to reminds her to eat enough vegetables every week even when she’s over 30, Cid still calls her ‘mah kid’).

Vincent wears a suit, Cerberus rests in its holster on his right thigh and if he appears behind Cid with an actual shovel, eyes glowing Mako red and Chaos golden as Cid’s having a “friendly talk” with the groom…thats between him, Cid and the poor bastard. Cid wears his Captain uniform. Both look hot as hell. Both rail each other after the reception. Life is good.

(Check out @mamoru-chiba-ua ‘s art for the reference of Cid and Vincent at Yuffie’s wedding)

[spotsandsocks]

💕🌈🌈Fic Rec Friday Fun🌈🌈💕

So wanted to get some hiatus rec lists going and encourage some self promo in my friends so how about sharing your top fics no matter how big or small - give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits/Most kudos/Most comments/Most bookmarks /Most words/Least words

No numbers just the fic 😊 I'll go first

Most hits: 12 months 12 Kisses 8k Teen Chapt 16/16 Over the course of a year Eddie and Buck exchange various types of kisses but that doesn’t mean anything. Unless it does? It’s all pretty confusing.

Most kudos : If You Break It (3K Teen) Chris is upset about something and he won't tell Eddie so its only logical to call Buck for help. When Buck finds out what's wrong he's just as upset. Eddie wants to date again.

Most comments: Good Knight Sweet Prince (167k E) At sixteen Prince Evan’s life becomes entangled with a young man who wants to be a Knight. Their friendship grows and changes over the years, as they’re separated and reunited over time and eventually they find out what they really mean to each other, but a Knight and Prince have very different destinies how can they ever be together?

Most bookmarks: Who You Gonna Call? (9K E) Eddie and Buck talk on the phone when there’s good news, bad news or just because. Actually they talk a lot and one day Eddie might work out what that all means. Several phone calls between Eddie and Buck that lead to love.

Most words: (GKSP again) so Fly Away Home (104k) sequel to To Fly The Skies (60K) Dragonriders of Pern AU. Eddie’s grieving and hurt but he finds a new home and then he finds Buck. Slowly things start to get better for him and Christopher.A story about moving forward from trauma and grief with help from the people you love and who love you back.

Least words 100 word fics : 100 word fics 400words Ficlets I wrote for a 100 word ficlet challenge on tumblr. Prompts were Hands/Tattoo/ Eyelash/ Apple (btw always interested in another prompt for these)

No pressure tagging but I’d love to see what you’ve written

@rogerzsteven @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @cowboy-buddie @prince-buck-diaz @thekristen999 @littlebitofdiaz @panbuckley @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @fleurdebeton @jobairdxx @hippolotamus @yelenasbuddie @spaceprincessem @loveyourownsmiilee @jacksadventuresinwriting @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @buddierights @megsvstheworld @elvensorceress @heartbeatdiaz @sibylsleaves @like-the-rest-of-la @ronordmann @wh0re-behavi0r @try-set-me-on-fire

And anyone else who would like to share I’m always very happy to be tagged so I can see and reblog. 💕

[lightning-writes]

good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 16/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: …until he’s not alone (alternatively - rue had other intentions)

word count: 2452 

tags: post endgame, pre tfatws, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: none

a/n: part 2 of bucky's thanksgiving is very spicy :)

AO3 MASTERLIST X

(When was the last time Bucky was nervous about seeing a girl?

Maybe, it was the first time he’d kissed a girl, at fifteen. Or maybe it was the first time he went on a date with a girl, Katherine Brown. Or maybe, it was the first time he’d snuck out of his house to see a girl at her house, at seventeen; he’d climbed the tree by her house, to her window, and nearly fell when the porch light came on.

Actually, it might have been the time he had sex for the first time, the night before he was deployed, with Dottie Clark. He was twenty, and all he could think was he needed to do this, to be a man, before he proved himself a man in the war.)

He knocks on the door, and in the moments it takes her to answer, he wonders what the hell he’s doing here. Does she expect something from him? Is something going on with her? Flashes of her tearful face fill his memory.

(Is this some sort of unusual trap? his brain screams. Is she revealing her villainous intentions?)

The door opens. Rue’s hair is down, thick waves over her shoulders, and she’s still in that green dress. Close now, he sees its velvet with a deep neckline. He sees the tattoo of crossed knives and a curling design disappearing beneath her breasts.

(He sees gooseflesh ripple over her skin as the cold from outside comes in.)

His eyes quickly zip back to hers. She noticed him noticing her. He passes a nervous hand through his hair.

“Hey.” She leans her head against the door and offers a lazy smile. “Glad you could make it.”

He studies her. He can’t tell if her smudged makeup and red eyes are from tiredness or tears. “Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier.”

“Better late than never.” She moves aside, stretching an arm to invite him in. “I like this better.”

(The alarm bells in his head won’t let him admit it, but he likes it better too.)

Bucky walks in and surveys the open concept of kitchen, dining room, and living room. There’s a big Christmas tree, not yet dressed, in the space between dining and living room. There are still plates and food in the dining room and kitchen. The light is warm and low, candles burning on the table.

“My roommate is staying at her boyfriend’s place,” she tiptoes to get some wine glasses. Her dress rides up. He sees the word ADORE on the back of her right thigh. “So, I’m on clean up duty.”

“I could help,” Bucky offers, clearing his throat after a beat.

“You’re sweet.” She pulls the stopper from the already open red wine bottle easily, pouring it into a glass. “Do you want some wine? I have stronger stuff, too.”

“I’ll pass for now.”

(He can’t tell if it’s because he hasn’t seen her drunk before, but his intuition says something is wrong. He doesn’t ask her yet, though, afraid it might trip a wire in her.)

“Okay.” She takes a deep drink from her glass. She starts bringing plates into the kitchen with her free hand. At this rate, she’ll be here all night. He starts to help. “Oh, are you hungry?” she asks, “We have tons of leftovers.”

“I’m good for now,” he sticks with this line.

“But I made pumpkin pie.” She pouts a cute pout. She must know how cute it is. “Please, have some.”

He relents, “I’ll have a slice.”

She grins and puts her glass down to serve a slice. “How was your Thanksgiving, what did you do?”

(Panic flares up his throat when his mind flashes to Evie. His brain short-circuits when he watches her spray whipped cream in her mouth after spraying some of his pie.)

He lies, saying he went to George’s. She moves around the kitchen, a little wobbly, a little sloppy, cleaning up as he talks and eats pie, leaning against the counter. She asks about the gym, about George; she also asks about Sam, if they ever reconciled.

(When she bends to load the dishwasher, he notes the curve of her ass and the nakedness down the front of her dress. He keeps averting his eyes despite his nature to stare.)

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she suddenly asks. She’s nearly done clearing the table and counters.

Bucky braces himself for the worst. Questions about being the Winter Soldier, about Hydra, about his missions, about his brainwashing. About his sessions with Raynor, about his friendship with Steve or Sam. His brain even, briefly, considers this question a play for her to reveal she is a secret agent.

“Okay.”

“Did you disappear, five years ago?” She hops up onto a counter, a little taller than him. “Like… dusted?”

“Was I snapped?” He repeats it because this is the funniest question he would have never imagined her asking. She nods, eyeing him curiously. “Yeah… yeah, I was.”

“What was that like?”

(To the untrained eye, her expression looks open and curious. But Bucky can see how curated it is, the mask of interest when she has a different motive, a different feeling about this question. He wants to pull that cord, but what if it detonates something?)

“It was like… nothing,” he answers honestly, “one minute I’m there, one minute I’m crumbling away. And when I came back, I knew there was something going on because I was ready to fight.”

“I wonder if it was like that for everyone.” She goes for her wine glass and realizes it’s empty. Her eyes wander to the counter behind him, to the bottle, but he pretends not to notice. “Maeve was dusted,” she says into the empty glass.

“I know, you told me.”

“Right… she never told me what it was like, when she was gone. She just told me she was glad to be back.” When Bucky doesn’t speak, she says, “I proposed to her the day she got back, you know.”

His brows raise. “Really?”

She nods, “If it wasn’t for Vick, I would have married her that weekend.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, putting his plate in the dishwasher, next to her swinging legs. She has a tattoo of a dragonfly on her shin closest to him. He looks up at her, but her gaze is miles away.

“She showed up tonight.” Her voice is low.

“I thought she was MIA.”

Rue’s eyes fill with tears, but anger sets her jaw. “Yeah, well, she interrupted dinner, and even though everyone basically told her she’s not welcome here, she insisted on talking to me.”

“What did she say?”

(He knows Rue spoke to Maeve. He knows because he would have done the same. It would have been less about the conversation and more about wanting to press a thumb into the bruise that is heartbreak. Bucky thinks he and Rue are more alike than what meets the eye.)

Tears streak her face, but her voice doesn’t break, “She’s engaged.”

The final blow of the story propels her to her feet, and she pours the last of the wine into her glass. He hadn’t noticed how much she’d been drinking.

“I think… I’ll have that stronger stuff now,” Bucky says after a beat. This makes her laugh, wine to her mouth, a wet hysterical laugh turning into a drowned cry.

Bucky crowds her slumped frame. She’s not short, but in this state, she’s so small. She heaves a deep cry, painful sounds coming out of her, and Bucky carefully hugs her. He’s had to comfort people before, but not like this. Not inconsolable sobs that didn’t have an answer his wit or fists couldn’t handle. She slowly melts into his chest, her head pushed under his chin, her cries shaking her body. But he remains solid.

(Anger plumes like a smoke bomb in his chest. Maeve is something evil, to know Rue and to hurt her like this. Though they haven’t known each other long, he knows Rue hides behind the guise of naivety, and he knows she’s built of stronger stuff. To see Rue like this, he knows Maeve is a true villain. He holds Rue tighter, a sudden realization that he wants to protect her at all costs, against any threat, physical or emotional.)

“Ugh, I’m sorry.” She rips herself from him, stumbling back to the other counter. Her frenzied hands wipe her flooded face. “I keep dumping this nonsense on you, and god, the crying–”

“Stop.” Her eyes snap to his, and he takes her shoulders. Her eyes are still watery, but she seems to melt under his gaze. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Bucky…” her forehead slams into his chest.

“You don’t.” His tone is firm. “Now, can I ask you a personal question?”

She peeks up at him through a squinted eye.

“I guess it’s only fair.”

“How many tattoos do you have?”

She laughs, her confused eyes searching his expression for something, but he can’t pick up what.

“Maybe twenty something? Mostly small ones. And that excludes these guys,” she holds up her hands to show the dots and little doodles decorating her knuckles. Then, she covers her face. “Do you want to see an embarrassing one?”

“When you put it like that…”

She turns her back to him, unzipping her dress. His face heats, but when she stops half way and the dress falls from her shoulders, he nearly laughs. At the base of her neck is a small pair of angel wings; to the right, she has flowers flowing from her back onto her shoulder, and on the left, there’s a large blue outline of the Avenger’s ‘A’ emblem.

The blue pops against her tan skin. But then, he sees it. The scar running through one of the legs of the ‘A’. It’s raised and crude, a little darker than her skin. Without thinking, he traces it with a finger, feeling the imperfection of it.

(She shivers. He doesn’t shrink back.)

“I got it after the alien attack, back in 2012.” She tries to rezip the dress on her own; Bucky helps her gently. “I was about to get crushed by a falling building, but then, your buddy,” she turns to give him a meaningful look, “had pushed me out of the way. He’d used the shield to keep us from getting hurt. I mean, my back obviously had been hit by some debris, but…” she shrugs. “He saved me.”

After a beat, Bucky says flatly, “So… you’re, like, a super fan.”

(She laughs, and he really likes it.)

////

“I… I don’t want to be alone,” she had said. “Please stay?”

He agrees.

She gets him a drink of bourbon Victoria’s boyfriend leaves for himself. She turns off the overhead light in the dining room, plunging the whole space into darkness, aside from the candles on the table. She moves around him in the dark, despite her drunkenness, maneuvering to switch a few lamps on in the living room. She tells him to wait there before disappearing into her room.

He takes off his jacket, resting it on the back of one of the dining chairs, and sits on the couch, getting comfortable. He fiddles with his knife, the one usually in his boot, while he sips the bourbon. It’s good.

She returns, wearing an oversized shirt and a fluffy robe. She stands in the space between his splayed knees. He’s got an arm around the back of the couch, so he has to look up at her.

“Can I tell you something?”

Her face is void of makeup or expression. He’s curious.

“Sure.”

“This was supposed to be a booty call.”

(His eyes land on her thick bare thigh, a fresh and complicated tattoo design disappearing under the hem. He registers that she isn’t wearing anything beneath the shirt by the barbell piercings through her nipples.)

“Yeah, I could see that,” he says evenly, gaze drifting back up to hers.

She shifts her weight to one hip, making the shirt lift on one side. He keeps his eyes on her half-lidden ones.

“But that wouldn’t be fair,” she says.

(He sees she’s nervous. Maybe not nervous, just on edge. Anticipating.)

“To you.”

“To me?” he echoes in shock. He raises an amused brow. He moves his knee to touch hers. She doesn’t move. “How isn’t it fair to me, Ruby?”

Her nostrils flare at her full name, but it's a sharp breath she takes.

“You deserve better than to be used,” she says matter-of-factly.

(He’s not sure why, but that spears him through the heart.)

“Same to you,” he returns. “You also drank almost a whole bottle of wine.”

“You could have helped.”

“I don’t think anything was stopping you,” he says, lapsing into a chuckle. “Not even a super soldier.”

His eyes stay on hers, and he takes another drink from his glass.

(Maybe he’s anticipating too.)

“I just don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

He leans forward, and he sees her tense. He uses the hilt of the knife to lift the hem of her shirt. He also notes how gooseflesh travels up her hip.

“It’s a tarot card, Death,” she breathes, like any sudden movement might startle him. From stopping. “It means–”

“Ending a cycle, new beginnings, change.” He anchors his metal hand against her thigh, tracing the skull design with his thumb. He hears her swallow. “It’s new.”

“Yeah.”

He looks up at her as he pulls away from her. Her gaze is thick and sharp. The city and the world outside of the apartment fades as he focuses on her haloed in warm light.

(Her lips are still stained from the wine. They look like she’d been in a hot-and-heavy kissing session, and it makes him hard thinking about it.)

“I’m following your lead here,” his voice is low.

“That’s not fair.”

He smirks, knowing it’s his advantage. “I’m a gentleman.”

“Okay.”

When he leans back as she moves, he’s anticipating her to settle onto his lap. Instead, she sits next to him and grabs the remote. She turns it on without looking at him, and he can’t help but smile while tucking his knife back into its holster concealed by his boot.

“Hey, wait, I like that show,” he points. She goes back to the channel she’s passed.

“You’re a Trekkie?”

“It was one of the few shows in Russian,” he says, “in the 70’s.”

He raises his arm and looks at her expectantly. She studies him for a moment, and he wonders what’s passing through her mind. He wonders if she’s fighting the same thing he is. Finally, she yields, tucking herself into his side.

[theserpentsadvocate]

AITA for continuing a FWB (minus the ‘friends’ part) relationship that could get me arrested (not FOR the sex)

(For the prompt 'badly describe your fic as an AITA', companion to this.)

So I (17M) have this almost-ex, Rose (we kind of dated, most of it behind her real boyfriend’s back, she let me think she was into me for real but was just using me for sex, then they split up and I thought we had a shot, but she dumped me and went back to him) from last year. At the beginning of the school year Rose (17F) pissed off her best friend (I think by sleeping with her boyfriend or something – she cheated on hers with somebody else, anyway) and the best friend, Velma (17F), who was apparently the only person she told about OUR thing, came to me for revenge. We hooked up a few times, Velma rubbed Rose’s nose in it and exposed her cheating to her boyfriend (you guessed it, 17M), everybody was happy.

The thing is, Velma and I have hooked up a few times since then and are probably going to keep doing it. Partly because Rose got in my face after and tried to warn me off, and fuck her, honestly, but it’s also just convenient – I’ve had kind of a dry spell since Rose and the girls who are around me a lot are honestly usually trying to lock me down because they think I can provide, which I’m not into, so it’s just been occasional stuff at parties mostly, or having to go out specifically just to get laid, and I forgot how much better it is to have low-effort regular sex. (I had a really casual FWB thing a while back – before Rose – and we’re cool, but one of my friends is into that girl now, so I haven’t tried to pick it back up.)

Velma and I aren’t friends or anything – we pretty much didn’t even like each other at the beginning – but she’s reasonably hot and pretty smart so even when we’re kind of going at each other I like that she can hold her own, you know? It’s hot, and she’s not a sex kitten or whatever (I found out later she was a virgin the first time we hooked up) but she gets really into it, which I like, and is pretty bad at hiding that, which is kind of funny? Arguing all the time is almost fun at this point – we’re not going to start hanging out outside of hooking up, but she’s really straightforward and kind of extreme (she seriously just GOES for things), which is kind of refreshing and enjoyable to be around after Rose jerked me around so much. And the sex has been getting better on a REALLY steep curve, so I don’t want to stop. (Plus, school sucks, so it livens things up.)

Here's the problem – I have obligations to this organization I run. I’ve been part of it full-time for almost three years (in charge for almost two), and affiliated for a year or so before that. To cut the details for obvious reasons, its activities vary between dubiously legal and straight-up illegal (no, I’m not planning to quit; yes, I know whatever ‘have you considered’ point you’re about to bring up; no, I’m not being naïve or selfish or whatever patronizing crap you’ve got lined up when I say this is my best option to have some kind of decent life and take care of my family – this post is not about that, so pre-emptively fuck off with that shit). I have responsibilities to the members (variously, 16-24M) – not to take unnecessarily stupid risks with their safety/freedom, not to make the organization look bad, to back them up if they’re in trouble, to enforce the rules (and make sure the ones I make are decent). To be a good leader, basically.

The problem is this: Velma’s father is the sheriff of our town. I’ve always known this, because it is not a large town, and I am, shall we say, known to police. To say he would not be pleased with his daughter having sex with me is a huge understatement. (I’m not going to say that’s not a perk. It’s a lot easier to take an obnoxious interrogation when I can just spend that time thinking about how I railed his daughter.) Technically, we’re both breaking the law – California is fucked, it’s literally illegal to have sex with anyone under eighteen even if you’re the exact same age – so it wouldn’t be in his best interest to arrest me for THAT (or at least to press charges) because you better believe my public defender would be making a huge deal about how SHE wasn’t arrested for illegally having sex with ME, but he would definitely go after me, and probably my organization as a whole, a lot harder if he knew about that (plus, most of us have enough of a record that they could just throw us in jail over the weekend under suspicion of ‘whatever’ without anyone caring it was police harassment). I actually don’t hate the guy, as cops go, and my life is a lot easier not being his Enemy Number One.

Now, most of the organization knows about the initial Velma thing (her blow-up with Rose was REALLY public, everyone at our school heard about it) and they mostly think it’s pretty great that I managed to pull that. It’s not a secret that we’re still hooking up, but it’s not well-known either, and I’m reasonably sure most of them don’t know how often it’s happening. But I worry about the blowback for us as a group. Velma and I only hook up at school, and while we’re not super likely to get caught (she has some kind of admin access to an out-of-the-way classroom no one uses, it locks, etc.) if we did it could have repercussions I think most of the club hasn’t considered.

I know it’s probably selfish to keep on doing this, but it’s been so goddamn long since I just had fun without having SOMETHING hanging over my head, and it would absolutely suck to have to go back to getting laid twice a month and having to fend off girls who are trying to get pregnant on purpose because they know how much I pull in on an average month. AITA for continuing to hook up with Velma?

EDIT: No, I’m not leading Velma on. This whole thing was her idea, and she’s made it VERY clear she’s not interested in anything other than what we have going on. The no-bullshit thing is the whole point for both of us.

EDIT 2: To everyone saying I’m in a gang like you’re the world’s best detective – no shit. It’s the specific details I’m trying to keep out of it. Go join Mensa.

EDIT 3: LOL I don’t want to date Velma. Thinking it’s funny when she calls me an asshole and having a good time pissing her off on purpose does not mean I have feelings for her, but also, how would that be a solution? Her dad would DEFINITELY find out about it if we were dating, it would literally be worse. Also I thought this was AITA, not Dear Abby.

EDIT 4: No, I’m not telling you how much I make a month. Why the fuck does it matter, that was literally a throw-away detail. And anyway, it depends, obviously. (I have a ‘real job’ too, for everyone who thinks that’s the genius solution here. Even THAT varies from month to month, because I’m in high school – I only mentioned that about six times.) It’s a lot more than I would otherwise, and no I’m not living the high life – my family has a lot of expenses. (And I’m not the sole provider, for everyone who assumed that, but in my house there are four kids and one adult who makes service industry wages, plus I help out my sister and her kid – you can say I ‘shouldn’t have to’ take care of my family all you want, but that’s not how real life works.)