#I should probably throw in a few piano pieces now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malfoysstilinski · 4 years ago

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girl in the mirror | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: in which draco and y/n are soulmates and can hear each others’ music, and you’ve been blasting sad songs all week, worrying draco.

WARNINGS: one mean joke about americans sozzles

A/N: based on the tiktoks where soulmates can hear each others’ music. i dont think ive seen an imagine like that on here so i thought i’d write one :)) also set in 2010s

In the Wizarding world, on your thirteenth birthday, you are officially bound to your soulmate. This means different things for different wizards and witches, depending on what they valued. For example, when Blaise Zabini turned thirteen, he was able to see his soulmate in mirrors-- fitting considering how self-obsessed he was.

Draco, however, heard music. You must be obsessed with it, he realised. He found out he was right pretty quickly, waking up to the sound of your playlists muffled in his ears and falling asleep to them too.

It was always Muggle music too. You must be a half-blood, or even… Merlin forbid, a Muggle-born. Realising that his soulmate wasn’t going to be a pure-blood like his parents had planned, Draco kept the news to himself and worked on his vocabulary. He tried his best to bite his tongue around Granger, ignoring his friends when they made fun of their ‘dirty’ blood.

He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to meet you.

It took Draco longer than it should have to realise you definitely didn’t go to Hogwarts. How could you when he’d be sat in assemblies, the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, and all he’d hear is the thumping of your music in his ears as if he was underwater?

“She’s probably an American,” Pansy pretends to gag, the others laughing with her.

“Could be a Beauxbaton,” Blaise suggests.

Draco doesn’t like to make assumptions, but he thinks you are definitely a Muggle. It’s rare, but not unheard of in the Wizarding world, especially nowadays. For the Malfoys, though, it would be an outrage.

You play your music the most when he’s eating dinner in the Great Hall or when he’s getting ready for bed.

At first, he hated it. He hated your music, he hated how his head was rarely ever quiet, and he hated that he didn’t know who you were in order to beg you to take your headphones out for once.

However, Draco learnt to love your music. Songs and bands he’d never heard of before quickly became his favourites and eventually, he found himself humming your Muggle tunes in the common room or quietly singing along in his dorm when the other boys were out doing whatever.

He learned to love having your music in his head, especially as the years rolled on and his life became harder and harder. It made him feel like he was never alone, your muffled melodies making a home in his head and pushing out all of his anxiety and depression.

Draco wanted to dance with you to them. He liked to lay in bed at night and listen to your songs and imagine that you’re lying next to him. He bets you have a nice singing voice. Maybe you can even play an instrument or two. Maybe you could teach him how to play the guitar, and maybe he could show you how to play his favourite pieces on the piano.

Your music is never too upbeat, but today Draco feels like he hasn’t heard a single song that wasn’t about being sad. As he trudged from class to class, Draco couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with you. It had been going on for the past few days, and the music stopped altogether on one of the days.

He went to bed with an empty head for the first time in a few years, staring at his ceiling. He plugged his iPod in and went to the Muggle section, playing a few of your favourite songs. It wasn’t the same.

“What’s up with you?” Blaise demands as Draco doesn’t touch his meal for the second time that day.

Draco glances to his friend and looks away, shaking his head. “Mind your own business, Zabini,” he mutters weakly.

Blaise’s soulmate, a Slytherin in the year below, joins them at sitting on the table and Blaise immediately forgets all about Draco, the two of them giggling as they hug each other. Draco thought he could throw up right there and then, shaking his head in disgust.

Green was Draco’s colour and Merlin was he jealous.

Why did you have to be a stupid Muggle?

Draco immediately feels bad for even thinking it. He wants to hug you and kiss the top of your head and mutter apology after apology. The soft feeling makes him feel weak. You did things to him that nobody else did, and he doesn’t even know who you were. The fact that you were most likely going through a rough time right now made it ten times worse.

“What’s wrong with Draco?” He hears Zabini’s girl whisper.

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Draco snaps, lip curling in disgust. “Instead of talking behind my back like a coward!”

“Draco,” Blaise growls. “I don’t know what’s up with you, mate, but you need to calm down.”

“It’s your soulmate, isn’t it?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow from opposite them. “Are they playing that rubbish song you hate on repeat again?”

“No,” Draco hisses in defence of you. “I like that song, thank you.”

Pansy holds her hands up. “Okay, whatever. Sorry, Malfoy. What has got your knickers in a twist, then?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t like talking about you to anybody else but he’s really worried and he thinks maybe one of them might be able to help.

“She’s…” Draco’s eyes drift to burn holes in the table in front of him. “She’s been listening to sad songs.”

Goyle snorts, making Draco’s head snap to him in fury.

“Sorry, Malfoy, sorry… But that does sound ridiculous, mate,” Goyle admits. “She’s probably just into that… genre?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco huffs and shakes his head. “You don’t know her like I do. Something’s wrong with her, I can tell.”

“Well, why don’t you visit her?” Blaise asks, grabbing a grape and popping into his mouth.

“What?” Draco spits. “Is that a joke, Zabini? I don’t find it funny--”

“I’m not joking,” Blaise frowns. “Merlin’s sake, Malfoy. Do you not pay attention in Charms?”

“Of course I do,” Draco hesitates, lying. “But what are you talking about, anyway?”

…

Draco feels ridiculous as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathrooms later that night. It’s silent since it’s the middle of the night, but Draco knows you’re awake because of the glum music playing faintly in his ears.

He wants to visit you like Blaise told him to do, and as he stands in front of the mirror and casts his incantations, he can’t help but wonder if this is a setup. He doesn’t give his hopes up, doesn’t hold his breath that when he opens his eyes you’ll be on the other side of the mirror.

But he wants you to be. He wants you to be there so badly.

Draco does sort of believe it so he put on his black turtleneck and black suit and combed his hair like usual, replacing the uniform and robes he’d been wearing all day. He doesn’t want you to see him and be disappointed.

He knows he won’t be disappointed no matter what you look like or what you are.

Draco takes a deep breath as he lowers his wand and closes his eyes. When he counts down and opens his eyes, he’s stunned into silence by the sight in front of him. His heart skips a beat and he nearly chokes on his own spit.

Staring back at him in the mirror is not his own pale reflection but what looks like a bedroom. The mirror glows orange from the lighting and he can see that it’s decorated with posters and records and other Muggle things. Draco doesn’t even process that you’re a confirmed Muggle at this point, he doesn’t care enough about that.

On a single bed in the middle of the room, sat up in the very centre with headphones in and a laptop in front of her, is a girl his age. She’s got beautiful y/s/c skin and y/c/h locks that have been thrown up into a messy bun, her y/c/e trained on the screen in front of her as she watches what he assumes is a film or a tv show.

She’s wearing a school uniform, not quite as posh as Hogwarts’, and it’s slightly crumpled from sitting in her bed with it on. Her polished black shoes are nowhere to be seen, rips in the bottom of her tights no doubt from wearing them thin five days a week.

Draco can’t believe he’s looking at you right now. He reaches his hand out, eyes widening when his fingers seem to slip past the glass and he’s sucked into another world-- your world. He wasn’t expecting it to happen, a small yelp leaving his lips as he tumbles straight out of the mirror hanging on your wall and onto your carpet.

You both scream as you make eye contact and you’ve thrown your laptop about in a panic. There’s no music in his ears now that he stands in front of you. Draco breathes heavily, unsure what to say.

“Um, hello?” He offers.

“What the hell?” You yell. “What are you doing in my bedroom? Who are you? My laptop!”

You ignore him as you dive off of the bed and pick it up. The screen is smashed making you glare at him harder.

“I’m sorry!” Draco practically squeaks. “I- I have Galleons--”

“Who are you?” You cut him off roughly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Draco keeps repeating, hoping you will calm down. “I-I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” You repeat with a mocking laugh. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” he replies, voice pitched higher than usual with offence. “What’s your name?”

Normally you wouldn’t tell a stranger your name, but this situation is anything but normal. You stare at the boy for a few seconds, wondering why he feels familiar. There’s something about him that has you relaxing under his gaze, which is weird because he literally just appeared out of nowhere.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you reply sceptically.

Draco smiles, “beautiful name.”

“Are you like a nonce or something?”

“Nonce?” Draco crinkles his nose in confusion.

You narrow your brows at him. “You’re literally British-- how do you not know what that means?”

“I’m not… I don’t really come from your kind of England,” Draco doesn’t know how to explain there is an entire world she’s been hidden from-- this is the first Muggle he’s ever had a conversation with.

“Are you Welsh?”

“Do I sound Welsh to you?” Draco cocks his head to the side, already amused.

“Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, not gonna lie,” you reply. “But no. I’m sure you’re English. You sound like you’re a private school kid or something.”

“I guess I am,” Draco replies quietly, looking around your bedroom and taking in all of the colours that it has.

You seem to snap out of whatever daze you were in. “Hey! You distracted me. Now tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bedroom before I call the police.”

Draco’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he contemplates his next words. He hesitates and sits down on your bed next to you. You can smell his cologne-- it smells much more expensive than the Lynx sprays the boys at college seem to be obsessed with.

“Do you ever hear music in your ears?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in conformation. “You do. That’s… that’s me. My music. I hear your music too. You listen to it all the time. Um… normally a lot of bands and stuff.”

There’s a long silence. “Do you have me on Spotify?”

“What’s Spotify?” Draco’s nose crinkles.

“You probably just see what I listen to on Spotify!” You claim, standing up as you become weary of the boy on your bed.

Draco still doesn’t quite understand your Muggle terminology, but he gets the gist of what you’re trying to imply.

“That doesn’t explain the music you hear in your head from me,” Draco tries. “Or how I just came out of your mirror.”

You look overwhelmed. “What are you?” You whisper.

“We, Y/N, are soulmates.”

...

yuh

PART TWO HERE

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco #malfoy #harrypotter #harry potter #dracotok #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #gregory goyle #soulmates au #soulmate au #harry potter imagine #harry potter au #draco malfoy au

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 4 years ago

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So more on the Beauford Swan AU, how do you think Alice and Rosalie's relationships with him are different? I assume Rosalie doesn't compare herself to Beauford the exact same way she compares herself to Bella, and Alice's Barbie Bella dream probably doesn't translate directly into a Ken Beau. How would that effect their initial relationships and the eventual family dynamics (Let's just assume this is the Beau Gives Up and Asks Carlisle to Turn Him version)?

Ooooh, interesting question anon.

For reference the Beauford AU: one, two, and three.

Specifically, we're in post number three, where Beauford survives Edward (huzzah for Beauford).

Rosalie

Rosalie's relationship with Beauford is a rollercoaster of weird.

At first, Beauford is a nothing special human. Rosalie's a little amused the girls are going wild for him, and she sees the appeal if you're into sensitive pretty boys (not Rosalie's type), but it has nothing to do with her.

As you point out, Rosalie doesn't have that conflict with her own beauty and comparison to Bella. Just per being a man, Rosalie will not compare herself to Beauford constantly.

Then Edward has his Biology breakdown and becomes increasingly weird.

Rosalie probably still suggests they kill off Beauford for nearly being crushed by a van. While Rosalie did have inner conflict over Bella, most of what informed that was Rosalie's lack of desire to move, that wouldn't change because of Beauford.

She probably wonders what the hell Edward's deal is, why is he obsessed with this guy, and then she has her "oh" moment.

Edward is gay.

Edward has always been gay.

Suddenly everything makes sense. The fact that Edward has shown 0 interest in Rosalie, that he showed 0 interest in Tanya who was practically throwing herself at him, that he shows 0 interest in any woman period.

Rosalie never suspected as much before, or at least, never put two and two together. But of course Edward is gay, it all makes sense now.

Edward doesn't like that idea, not at all, and accuses Rosalie of being a jealous shrew who is so offended by the idea that Edward isn't attracted to her that she accuses him of homosexuality.

Rosalie never said a word of this out loud.

The family has the biggest fight they've ever had. And, somehow, it's not over the murder of Beauford, but Edward's sexuality. No definitive conclusion is reached, but if you ask Edward, he is most definitely a heterosexual hot blooded man. Now, if you excuse him, he's going to go sneak into Beauford's room to crush the spiders that might sneak onto his pillow.

But back to Rosalie and Beauford.

Rosalie becomes increasingly exasperated as Edward romances Beauford without admitting he's romancing Beauford. He also does ridiculous things like adamantly refuse to turn Beauford into a vampire.

Rosalie tries to point out that he and Edward have no future like this. Edward doesn't care, he'll nobly leave Beauford anyway, as soon as he has the strength to. Rosalie tries to point out that a man doesn't take another man to a romantic Italian dinner (where he can't even eat anything) unless he's romantically interested. Edward tells Rosalie that she's never been as beautiful as she thought she was!

Rosalie decides, "fuck it", and she will be a part of Beauford's welcome committee when Edward invites him to meet the family. She's only given a few hours notice, but she just feels so bad for this guy. Edward's stringing him along, but is too in love with his own closet to ever have a real relationship.

She has no idea what Beauford thinks about it, but she's just dying of secondhand embarrassment. And yes, she thinks that Beauford should probably live a human life, and that Edward should either leave him alone or turn him, but at the very least she has to explain that her brother's an idiot.

Well, turns out, Beauford is also an idiot. And he's weird.

Rosalie finds herself meeting the most sensitive, womanly, man she's ever seen in her life. This guy is a delicate flower, she feels like if she breathes on him he might shatter into a thousand pieces.

He's very polite, very charming, but she watches as he does things like cry at Edward's piano playing and then let Edward eat his tear.

What the fuck?

Rosalie throws her hands in the air. There's no helping these two, they deserve each other, Rosalie out. Well, the baseball game happens, which turns into a disaster and a half.

Rosalie still likely gives her "Why are we risking our own deaths over this guy we don't even know" and Beauford assumes that Rosalie hates him (not helped by Rosalie giving him "are you crazy" looks all the time as well as Edward telling Beauford that Rosalie is jealous of his beauty and Edward's very platonic affections for him).

That summer Rosalie barely sees Beauford. When she does, he and Edward are cuddling on the couch. She asks if Edward's admitting he's gay yet, the answer is always no. She rolls her eyes and leaves to work on her cars.

New Moon happens, Rosalie doesn't know what to think anymore, but she supposes this is a decent outcome. Beauford gets to live a normal, human, life and move on.

They're back six months later.

Fast forward a bit and Beauford is turned by Carlisle. Rosalie sits down to think about it, Carlisle makes it clear why this happened, and she's back to feeling bad for Beauford.

Edward treats him like trash, he's downright vicious to Beauford, and Beauford looks like he's about to cry constantly. Rosalie reaches out and the pair have a good long talk about life, the universe, and her Pig Brother Edward.

Rosalie assures Beauford that Edward will get over it, he'll forgive Beauford eventually, and someday he'll stop being an ass. Beauford is comforted, but Edward never stops being an ass.

Rosalie and Beauford end up best friends instead.

They have nothing in common.

Alice

Alice still makes Beauford her Barbie Beauford, but with a slightly masculine twist.

She buys him fabulous clothes, so that his closet is filled with blazers, turtlenecks, and very tight pants. She still throws him a sweet sixteen eighteen, only instead of a million pink candles the candles are now blue.

Beauford is still utterly mortified.

She gets him a tux for Prom and Beauford ends up going with Edward though neither Edward nor Beauford realize they're in fact going to Prom together as a couple.

Alice still sees Beauford as her best friend and is absolutely ecstatic for his and Edward's "friendship". As Alice never sees the pair having sex, she is absolutely fine with the platonic label and fully agrees with Edward that theirs is a very platonic relationship.

Alice is still the best friend Beauford ever had because he has no friends and doesn't know what friendship is. Though he kind of wishes she'd stop buying him clothes.

Their relationship goes down the drain after Beauford is turned.

As Beauford and Edward's relationship falls apart, he looks to Alice for comfort, but she has none to provide. She doesn't see him and Edward working out any time soon and, well, glad you're a part of the family?

Alice realizes that her and Beauford's friendship isn't going to work out either. She's upset about this, but doesn't see any way to salvage it without completely alienating Edward. Alice will choose Edward.

Alice ponders over might have beens and wonders when the future shifted but quietly watches as Beauford becomes closest with Rosalie.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #beauford swan #bella swan #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #edward/beauford #anti edward/beauford #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #rosalie hale #alice cullen #anti alice cullen #meta #headcanon #opinion

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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Beautiful, Crazy and Jealous (Alex Morgan x Reader)

Request: Jealous Alex

Author’s Note: So the mentioned song is Beautiful Crazy by Luke Combs and is probably one of my favorite songs...

Alex had learned to live with a lot of things in the 6 years the two of you had been together. She had learned how to deal with your touring schedule and the distance. She learned how to accept that fans were going to thirst after you on the internet, magazines were going to romantically link you to any and everyone you so much as looked at, and interviewers were going to try and trap you into admitting you were dating whoever had garnered the media’s attention at any given point in time.

She learned to accept it, to swallow her jealousy, because at the end of the day it was her you called to talk to for hours, her you crooned love songs to while you made breakfast, and her bed that you always ended up in.

But right now swallowing those feelings while a lucky fan draped herself across your piano was really difficult (even though you pulled a fan on stage every night). She huffed, crossing her arms with a pout when the woman leaned in and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. You smiled good-naturedly at the fan shaking your head at her antics. You supposed you had gotten used to them acting a little over the top when you selected them from the crowd (you were singing them a love song at your concert after all).

“If you keep glaring one of the fans is going to notice,” Kelley smirked, nudging the woman with her elbow.

Alex huffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s hard when she’s so…” her hands gestured to where you were serenading the lucky fan with your million dollar smile (though she noted it wasn’t the crooked smile you wore when you sang to her).

“Entertaining? It’s her job and it makes the fans happy.” Kelley scoffed, shaking her head. Pulling fans on stage had been your thing since the two of you were in college. You had lived for your fans, they let you do the thing you loved the most (well besides Alex that was).

“Yeah, but like they don’t usually touch her,” Alex grumbled. How many times had she sat on your piano while you sang to her, and moved an errant curl away from your eyes. She noted you hadn’t looked up at the woman with the gooey eyes you always gave her, but the familiarity of the action was still a little too close to home for her.

Her lips ticked up when you sent a wink in her direction during the bridge of the song. The fan noticed and used a single finger under your chin to return your attention back to her. Alex growled under her breath. The fans were generally respectful, and they knew you weren’t the greatest fans of physical contact ( and that Alex was one of the few exceptions to that rule).

Kelley rolled her eyes. You were head over heels for Alex, and it didn’t matter how many times you sang your newest mushy songs to your fans. “You know that she would rather be singing to you. She keeps looking this way anyway.”

Alex bit her lip and nodded. You had said as much during your many impromptu concerts for her. “I know,” she sighed, swallowing her jealousy with a gulp. You would make it up to her later.

****

You bit the inside of your cheeks as the handsy fan was helped off stage. You gave her one last smile before kissing the back of her hand and allowing security to escort her back to her seat(twisting your fingers to force her to let go of you when she tried to hold on tighter). You watched for a second, making sure she made it through the crowd, your smile widening as you caught the eye of your blue-eyed forward.

You winked in her direction, not taking your eyes off her as a stagehand passed you your trusty guitar. You pulled the strap over your head, strutting up to the microphone, running a hand through your hair and pulling a pick from its holder.

“So I thought we’d do something just a little different tonight. Is that alright with you guys?” You asked, strumming a random pattern in the opening chord of your next song. A surprise song that was a bit of a departure from your normal set. The crowd roared in response.

Your grin widened as you took in the stadium. There was nothing quite like 75000 people screaming for you, but what made it even better was that the person you cared about most was here too. “Awesome! So some of you may know this, but today is a very special day,”

Your eyes found Alex’s again, and the stadium faded into the background. A few of the fans in the front row turned to see who had captured your attention, but you paid them no mind. “It’s actually my anniversary, so I think it’s only fair that I sing her a love song too. What do you guys think?” Talking directly to Alex. She nodded in return, and you smirked. you might like to serenade fans, but your girl would get her own special performance (now and later).

The crowd erupted in affirmation. It was rare you acknowledged your relationship. You laughed when Kelley nudged your fiancé. “Well, I can tell you that she’s beautiful and a little bit crazy, and I love her to pieces, even if I’m terrified of the way she drives…” you paused for a second, switching to the opening strumming pattern of the song. “Me wild,” you finished with a wink.

*****

Alex sighed, watching you with adoring eyes, unable to stop the blush that spread up her neck all the way to her ears. Yes, she may be in a stadium, but she knew that you were singing directly to her. You didn’t need to pull her up on stage for her to know that.

“I think she should change the name of the song,” Kelley laughed as you pointed at Alex from the stage and blew her a kiss (which she caught and put into her pocket).

“To what?”

“To Beautiful, Crazy and Jealous for no reason,” Kelley cackled, throwing her arm over the forward, who elbowed her hard in the ribs. “Shut up Kelley,”

It was difficult to have to share you with the rest of the world, but your love was worth it.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan x reader

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dandelionflower · 4 years ago

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(Some salt fic september)

Francois DuPont was an artistic school. With talented students varying from designers, to journalists, to DJs, to comic artists and writers. The art room of the school was always the busiest, the loudest, and the favorite room of the school.

So it would make sense for the school to have a yearly showcase. It was called a talent show once upon a time, but eventually the staff and students agreed that ‘talent show’ didn’t suit the talents the students were bringing to the table. Thus, the Francois DuPont showcase was born.

Students worked for months on their piece for the showcase. More than fifty percent of the works in the art room were pieces for the showcase.

It wasn’t mandatory by any means, but most students with a talent in the arts would participate. But with almost all the students participating and some having more than one piece to showcase, the show usually lasted a few days.

Lila, of course, didn’t know any of that so when asked if she was participating in the showcase in a few months, she grinned and said “Of course!”

Alya lit up. “Great! It’s going to be my first showcase too, and I want someone who knows what I’m going through. C’mon, we have to sign up.” And she dragged her into the halls.

Alya immediately wrote her name underneath the ‘verbal’ column, putting a ‘journalism’ next to it.

Lila surveyed the options. The easiest thing to fake would probably be photography, so she marked her name under ‘media’ and wrote a ‘photography’ next to it.

“Ooh, photography? What do you take pictures of? Because I know Mari’s been looking for a partner to take pictures of her designs with her.”

Lila bit back a grimace. “Thanks, but I prefer to take pictures of...” Art? Buildings? “Nature. I find that taking pictures of people is narcissistic as a society.”

“Aren’t you a model?” A judgmental voice came from behind her.

“I- well-“ She stuttered.

“It’s completely different, Felix! Lila doesn’t think her photo shoots are art worthy, she’s just doing it as a job.” Alya snapped, throwing an arm out to almost shield Lila from the chill radiating from Felix’s entire person.

“Very well.” Felix stepped around the two and signed his name in perfect cursive beneath Lila’s name and walked away without another word.

“That guy gives me the creeps.” Alix remarked as she scratched her name under the ‘performance’ column, then the ‘piece of art that cannot be moved’ section.

“And he’s doing photography too! Don’t worry Lila, there’s no way he’s better than you.” Alya grabbed her arm reassuringly and began walking with her back to class.

“Yeah, right...” Lila held in a wince as she found her way back to her seat.

Surely photography can’t be that hard.

—

It was that hard.

Lila had waited one week before the showcase to start taking pictures on her phone. She walked to the park and snapped a few pictures, called it a day, and went home.

They were terrible. Blurry, ugly, terrible.

The next thing she tried was looking up stock images and photoshopping the watermark off.

She was awful at photoshop.

Finally, she resorted to her escape plan.

“Sorry, Alya. But I completely forgot that I’m volunteering at the elementary school all day on the day of the showcase, and I can’t just cancel on them. I’m so sorry.”

“Girl, it’s no problem! Marinette told me that the showcase is going to go on for four days. We’ll just reschedule your slot. It’s no problem at all.”

“Great.” She muttered through gritted teeth. “See you then.”

...crap.

She had only one plan now.

And it was risky.

—

Lila walked into class on Monday, prepared for her showcase.

She explained to Alya that when she explained what was going on to the leader of her organization, they gave her a rain check.

“I’m just so thankful.” She brushed away a tear. “I really wanted to make sure I could see everyone’s talents.”

“That’s so sweet!” Rose cooed. “I can’t wait to see your pictures either!”

“I just hope they correctly portray the beauty of my subject...” Lila pressed a hand to her chest in modesty.

“Students, I need all of the media students to come to the art classroom with your flash drives and cameras.” Miss Bustier put her phone down and smiled. “And anyone who paired with a media student for their talent please also join the students in the art room.”

Lila stood and gave everyone a hug. “Wish me luck!”

She noticed Sabrina stand as well and accept a half hearted hug from Chloe and a nod of support from Max. Juleka stood too and hugged Rose tight.

“Bye Alya! Wish me luck.” Marinette appeared from seemingly nowhere and hugged Alya tight. “And don’t be worried about your presentation. We’ll find some time to rehearse before tomorrow.”

“Thanks girl. Look after Lila for me? She’s just as new as I am.”

Marinette’s eyes darkened for just a second, but she quickly broke into a grin. “No problem. And don’t be worried, Lila. I’m sure your photos are just unimaginable.”

“Thanks Marinette. That’s just so sweet of you.” They linked arms and waltzed out of the room.

The moment they were out of eye shot of any of their classmates, they stepped aside.

“You don’t even have pictures, do you?” Marinette growled.

“What do you mean Marinette? Of course I have pictures.” She smirked. Or at least, I will in just a minute.

—

The art room was bustling and chaotic. Perfect for a camera or flash drive to go missing.

Marinette was bombarded by a group of kids from Felix’s class.

“Ready to see the product of our hard work?” A girl with two dark buns on the top of her head asked.

“I hope so.” She gave them a bashful smile.

Lila stopped paying attention. She had a goal in mind.

Her eyes landed on an expensive looking camera sitting on a desk at the side of the room. A sitting duck.

With a side glance for witnesses, Lila walked right by the camera and slipped the memory card right out and into her awaiting palm.

With her goal met, she sat primly in her chair, waiting for them to be called to the stage.

“Alright, photographers, models, actors, directors!” The art teacher stood. “Let’s go!”

Lila skipped up to him, a look of concern on her face. “Sir?”

“Yes Lila?”

“My camera broke on my way here and all I have left of it is my memory card; is there still a way for me to present my photos?”

“Of course there is. Don’t you worry a bit.”

“Perfect!” She grinned.

Once backstage, each student needed to give the teacher their SD cards or cameras and wait to be called onstage to describe their works to the audience.

Lila spared a quick glance towards the onlookers. Talent scouts of every kind were sitting in plush, reserved seats, notebooks and pens at the ready.

She was the first one up, the first one they would see and, unless she used all of her charisma and improvising skill, the first one they would forget.

“...and now, Lila Rossi with her photography!”

Lila strutted out to the greetings of applause.

“Hello, and let me just say I am so honored to be here today, especially considering that a year ago I wasn’t expected to be able to walk to school every day. Photography was really the only thing that got me through the day.”

A murmur of pity rippled through the crowd.

“Pictures like this one.” She pressed the clicker and a picture appeared on the screen behind her.

A picture of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, mid-twirl in a beautiful hand-made dress.

Lila heard Alya gasp.

“I wanted to show simultaneously the mundanity of walking and the undeniable splendor of it. My dear friend Marinette had some designs she was willing to model for me to help achieve my goal. Marinette, come on out!” She held a hand out, daring Marinette to come out from where she was waiting to go next along with her other friends.

Felix stood behind her with a look of horror and disgust on his face; and a particularly fancy camera hanging around his neck. A very familiar camera.

“No? Okay then.” She turned back to the crowd. “She’ll be out with a different group; Mari doesn’t want me to have to share the spotlight, isn’t she sweet?”

The crowd applauded and Lila continued making up technical terms and thought processes for each photo, all of which were of Marinette in different designs.

“Thank you.” She bowed deep before walking off the stage.

Now to hold her breath and hope that Marinette, Felix and all their friends were too chicken to call her out onstage.

—

“Now, with their short film; ‘solving love,’ please welcome Bridgette Cheng, Claude Lambert, Mercury Bernard, Allegra Harthorn, Felix Culpa, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Hey everybody!” A boy with brown hair and a blue striped shirt grabbed the mic and shouted. “How are we doing today?”

A scattered amount of applause.

“Nice! I’m Claude, and this is Bridgette.”

The girl with the buns waved.

“We were the main idea folks for this video; but the idea only came after the filming.”

Bridgette grabbed the mic. “We asked out friends if we could film them, and then a few weeks ago, we reviewed the film and noticed something... interesting.”

“Allegra here,” a girl with a long blonde braid waved, “did the music and Mercury,” a boy with dark glasses and a green beret, “did the narration. You’ll be seeing more of them soon. My cousin Mari,” Marinette waved, “and Felix are the main subjects of the film. You would have seen more of them, but for some reason Felix’s memory card went missing.”

Lila swallowed, this wasn’t great. The seeds of dissent were planted and now she had to risk either spinning another fake story or hoping that it all went well.

It’s not like they had any proof though; she should be fine.

“Anyway, here’s ‘Solving Love.’”

They all stepped to the side and the video began with a smooth piano.

“Love.” The screen showed couples going up to Andre’s and sharing ice cream. “The answer to everything. To ourselves, to the meaning of life, to the questions we cannot ask.”

“But how? How do we get from complete strangers, to people so close they are the same person?” The video changed to a showing of Marinette and Felix shaking hands, both with sardonic smirks. “People rarely get to see the entire process of when people fall in love; there are always pieces missing, hidden moments only for the people in question to recall. Love is left for the investigator to discover for themselves, when the time is right.”

“But maybe,” it showed Marinette talking animatedly, as Felix yawns beside her, “maybe one day, we’ll be lucky enough to see most of the picture.” Felix’s eyes droop and his head falls to rest atop Marinette’s, in the beginnings of a nap. Marinette flushes red.

The rest of the video shows the stages of Marinette and Felix’s relationship, from sarcastic rivals, to peers, to friends, to partners. The narrator described different relationships and how love is a constant through all of them.

The video showed Marinette dancing, twirling in a brilliant dress as Felix kneels and snaps pictures. “Ah, but is this all of it?” They lean down for a swift kiss. The image pauses there. “The full picture? Or is it only a snapshot,” the screen lights up white, “a minor clue, to solving love?”

The auditorium was quiet for what seemed like minutes. Then, the room burst into uproarious applause; a standing ovation.

Lila growled as she turned to sulk and maybe get her makeup so she could fake an injury and get some pity points to heal her bruised ego.

She ran face first into the grey suit of Mr. Damocles.

“Oh, hello sir.” She beamed. “Is there a problem?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes Miss Rossi, there is. Did you take those pictures of Miss Dupain-Cheng? Because that video tells a different story.”

“Yes sir, I swear it.”

“You swear it, huh? Well you best come with me to the office. Miss Dupain-Cheng and her friends will join us when they’re done.”

“What?”

“Miss Rossi, you are accused of stealing Mr Culpa and Miss Dupain-Cheng’s creative work. We will be calling your mother to discuss this.”

Back on stage the crowd of students and talent agents alike had taken to shouting questions to the group of students.

#ml salt #lila salt #felinette #ml felix #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #quantic kids #ml claude #ml allegra #ml mercury #ml bridgette #ml alya

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yikesharringrove · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Little Mango

Rewrite

Read on Ao3

Chapter 3

Billy groaned as he folded himself into the Camaro.

Steve hadn’t been at school that day.

Billy wasn’t totally worried, it was around time for his heat, anyway, but Steve had been feeling bad the past few days, throwing up nearly every morning this week before making his way to school, looking pale and clammy, and sleeping through nearly every class.

Billy smoked lazily out the window. The October chill was beginning to set in, and he was fucking dreading the cold weather. He was a California, golden sunshine, warm weather baby through and through, and if it fucking snows, well. Basically, he doesn’t have a coat and he’s pretty much fucked.

He pulled into the driveway in front of Steve’s house, letting himself in the front door with the key Steve had given him at the end of summer.

The house didn’t smell like it did when Steve was in heat, full of the honey lavender scent of his hormones, his slick.

The house was as cold as still as it usually was when Mr. and Mrs. Harrington couldn’t be assed to spend time with their only kid.

Something uneasy climbed down Billy’s spine.

“Stevie?” He yelled up the stairs. There was no answer. Billy didn’t even bother taking off his shoes before he bounded upstairs. “Stever!”

He found Steve in his bedroom, all snuggly and wrapped up in bed, nestled under a pile of blankets. Again, not really unusual behavior for Steve, especially if he was in one of his moods, but the entire situation just didn’t sit right with Billy.

Call it alpha intuition.

Billy sat on the other side of the bed, laying over Steve, melting his body weight onto him.

Steve didn’t react to him.

Something’s up.

“Baby, what’s up?” Steve just made a high sound in his throat in reply.

So, there’s a big something up.

Billy started shifting blankets, finding Steve’s face. “Talk to me.” One of Steve’s eyes opened, big and round and full of something Billy couldn’t place. “You okay?”

“I went to the doctor today. I was awake all night throwing up.”

Billy kissed his forehead. He was covered in cold sweat.

“What’s the verdict? You alright?” Steve shifted, sitting up, holding a pillow to his chest. “Flu? Strep? Hand-foot-and-mouth disease?” Steve didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile.

Billy was fucking worried.

“I, um, I’m, I’m pregnant.”

Billy’s heart fucking stopped.

“She said I was probably eight weeks along.” Steve was nervously picking at something on the bedspread, beginning to ramble. “So I guess it was during one of my heats, that sometimes, sometimes omegas still have heats during the early pregnancy, which is why, why I still had the last one but didn’t have this one, and apparently it’s the size of a raspberry, a tiny little raspberry, Bill. And I, I know we’re so young, but I don’t, I don’t think I can bring myself to get rid of it, and this, I mean, it’s a fucking miracle I even got pregnant in the first place, and this could be my chance to have a pup of my own, and, god, it’s all just so fucking much, and I’m not, you don’t, I‘m not expecting anything from you but-” Billy pulled Steve into his chest, petting his hair, shushing him softly.

“It’s okay, Sweet Thing.” He kissed Steve’s head. “Whatever you wanna do. I’m gonna be right here for you.” Steve melted into him.

“Bill, I, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can, if we can actually, actually be fucking parents, but I, Billy I can not just, just-I already love them so fucking much. ”

“You don’t have to, Honey. You can decide. We’ll make this work, how ever we have to.” He hefted Steve further into his lap. “I’m gonna be here for you, for our pup. And we got, like, family that’ll help us.”

“Bill, I don’t think our parents are gonna-”

Billy was quick to cut him off.

“Are you gonna tell Joyce she can’t babysit, or should I get murdered for it?”

Steve laughed, an unexpected little thing.

“So you’re- you’re okay?”

“I mean, nothing’s really sunk in, and I’ve got a huge fucking breakdown on the horizon once I realize what all this actually means. But, you know. I’m fine.”

Billy’s breakdown came when he went home the next morning.

When his dad backhanded him across the face for staying out all night.

He was standing in his room, staring wide-eyed at the window.

How could he be so fucking stupid? Steve wasn’t on birth control. Billy fucking knew that , and still pumped him full of cum every fucking heat.

Steve had told him that it was near impossible for male omegas to get pregnant. It had to be a perfect storm of proper anatomy and a strong heat that allowed for their bodies to actually implant and grow a tiny clump of cells into a whole human person.

Steve had been working with the idea that he pretty much couldn’t get pregnant since he was a kid. And Billy had totally run with that.

And now Steve’s got a little tiny almost person inside of him.

He’s fucking stupid. He’s stupid, and dumb, and he’s a fucking teenager with a pup on the way.

The tears stung his eyes.

He sank to his knees, one hand fisted in his own hair.

Fuck. Fuck.

He’s not gonna tell Steve what to do with his own body. If he wants to have the pup, then Billy’s gonna fucking support him.

Because he’s not a shitty deadbeat.

And he loves Steve. He really does.

But he doesn’t believe in himself, though. There’s no fucking way they make this work.

There’s no fucking way they raise this pup, and stay together, and not traumatize the little thing.

There’s not a way in this fucking world.

“Alright, Steven.”

Steve was perched nervously on the exam table, his fingers in knots in his lap.

Billy was sitting against the wall, bouncing his leg and itching for a cigarette.

He hadn’t had one since Steve told him about the pup.

Two weeks ago.

He quit when Steve did. Not that Steve kept up the same level as Billy. There was a big difference between one or two cigarettes at a party, and nearly two packs a day.

But it wasn’t good for Steve, or the pup, so Billy took the most stressful time in his whole life so far, to quit smoking.

They were at Steve’s ten-week appointment. At the clinic in Indianapolis. The one where the front desk staff only raised an eyebrow at the boys’ fake I.D.s and didn’t ask for their parents’ contact information.

The doctor ushered Steve to lay back, pulling up his t-shirt to spread the clear jelly on his stomach, turning on the machine.

She located the fetus easily.

“Well, it looks like you’re coming along nicely. You’re at the proper growth for this stage, and the heartbeat’s nice and strong.”

Billy was staring at the monitor.

He couldn’t really make anything out. The machine was making this wooshing sound, like it was a scope underwater, and not a digital look into Steve.

But there was a little tiny blob in there. Something that looked like a little white bean nestled in Steve’s abdomen.

Their pup.

The doctor highlighted the little bean, zooming in and taking a capture of the image.

“Little pup's first picture.”

Steve’s scent went absolutely sweet, filling the room with sugar. Billy just reached out, taking his hand.

At the beginning of his pregnancy, Steve had terrible insomnia.

Billy would sneak out of his house to come over most nights, curling up behind Steve with one hand splayed wide on his slightly chubby tummy. He was always solid behind Steve. Warm and soft, a constant comfort to remind Steve that he wasn’t alone with the pup. That he had Billy to love them. To protect them and take care of them.

And sometimes, his warmth and steady breathing would be enough to lull Steve into a nice doze, or even to coax him into sleep.

But most nights, he was wide awake.

Steve didn’t want to keep Billy awake on those long nights, so he would sneak out of Billy’s gentle embrace, and sit on the couch downstairs in the sitting room. He would usually hang out in the quiet, just him and the little pup growing inside of him.

But then Billy would wake up, cold and alone, and would trudge downstairs to find Steve, and manhandle Steve until he was laying on top of Billy on the couch.

That’s where they were when Billy first spotted the grand piano in the corner of the room. Never noticed where it stood, collecting dust. Partially hidden by a large potted fern. He slid out from under Steve and took a seat at the leather padded seat, brushing his fingers over the glossy blackness of the beautiful piano.

Many of the keys were out of tune, as the thing hadn’t been played in years, but he plonked out a few easy scales.

Billy’s mom used to play. He had vivid memories of sitting on her lap, his hands on hers as she played beautiful songs. She taught him a few, once upon a time.

He struggled through one of the songs he could kind of remember, occasionally hitting the wrong key before correcting himself and continuing with the melody. He stumbled through what he could of Hey Jude before turning back to Steve, expecting to see a soft smile, big tired eyes blinking slowly back at him.

But Steve was dead asleep on the couch, both hands resting over his tummy.

Billy carried him up to bed.

That became their ritual on nights Steve couldn’t sleep.

Steve even decided to scour the poorly stocked music store and bought Billy lots of sheet music. He had just grabbed random stuff, and ended up with the weirdest assortment of things. Rock ballads and classical pieces. Swing jazz and a few beginner piano books.

Billy sifted through to find the easier stuff. He could still read sheet music well enough to slowly decipher the notes, but had to remind himself which keys corresponded to which note.

The piano was still out of tune and sometimes made the songs sound dreadfully wrong and quite nearly frightening, but it was peaceful. Quiet except for the sounds of the piano.

Steve was just content to sit next to him as he did it, holding onto his stomach, his head leaned gently against Billy’s shoulder.

They didn’t really tell Joyce.

Not exactly, anyway.

Steve and Billy were at Melvald’s, looking through the health section, throwing vitamins Steve’s OBGYN had recommended into the basket.

The basket was heavy, the metal handles digging into the meat of Billy’s palm. Nearly overflowing with expensive supplements that were meant to help their little pup grow into something fully formed and functioning.

Steve was being picky about the supplements. Taking the specific brands the doctor had recommended, reading the labels diligently to see if they said anything along the lines of Warning: Do not take while pregnant. Will give your pup an extra head.

Joyce was the only person at the check-out stand, and she made small talk while she scanned vitamins, shea butter, and produce, not even looking at the rattling plastic bottles.

Until one container wouldn’t scan. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands.

She faltered, and it was like the world came to a halt.

Prenatal Vitamins, omega specialized formula

She stared at it. Steve felt like he was gonna cry.

But she moved in a flash, shifting around the counter, and pulling Steve into a tight hug.

It took him a second to return the hug, wrapping his arms around her.

“If you boys need anything, and I mean anything at all, you come get me.” Steve scrunched his eyes up, trying not to sob into her shoulder.

She pulled away, giving Billy a hug of his own.

He hooked his chin on her shoulder, and he kinda felt like he could cry too. She gave him a bone-crushing hug for someone so small.

She took Steve’s hand when she finally relinquished Billy.

“How far along are you?”

“Just about ten weeks.” She cooed, handing them their bags as Billy counted out bills.

“And you’re not even showing. With Jon, I must’ve put on thirty pounds.” Steve looked around.

He was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, mostly wearing too-big clothes of Billy’s these days, trying to hide what he could for as long as possible. He was beginning to get insecure about the weight he was gaining, even though it showed off the growth of their pup.

But he’s vain. And Steve’s the first to admit that.

He lifted his sweatshirt to show the shirt underneath, the tighter fabric showing off his little bump. Joyce smiled at them, and it made Steve feel so warm.

“I want copies of the very first sonogram.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #sweet little mango #mango #omega steve harrington #alpha billy hargrove #mpreg #harringrove #harringrove abo

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Could you maybe write a “73 questions with Sirius Black” Vogue one? Or something like that.

Yes! I had never seen these videos before and it was a fun challenge to write. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

The house is large, two stories tall and painted a soft gray with white trim around the windows. Holiday lights have yet to be taken down and shine in all colors of the rainbow from the eaves as the camera crew walks up the front steps. The curtains in the window tremble for a moment, then a dog pokes her head through—she is all-black and curious, and looks quite large.

Dorcas Meadowes knocks on the front door; a moment later, it swings open and reveals Sirius Black. “Hey, guys, come on in! You can leave your shoes by the door inside.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Dorcas kicks off her flats and follows him inside as he sets a dish towel on the end table and leans against it. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing pretty well. Morning practice was productive and I’m feeling good about our upcoming game.”

“We’re here today to ask you 73 rapid-fire questions while you lead us around. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. You can all come inside instead of freezing on the porch,” he laughs, waving them closer. The door shuts with a gentle click.

“First question: on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“Hmmm. A solid seven.”

“Do you have any pets?”

“I do!” Sirius leads them into the other room, where the dog is curled up on the couch below the window; he picks her up and gives her a kiss on the head. “This is Hattie and I love her very much.”

“Cute! If you could do a dramatic love scene in a movie with anyone, who would it be?”

Sirius sets the dog down and thinks for a second. “Aside from my fiancé, I’m going to say James Potter. We would kill it and I don’t think it would be that awkward.”

“What’s the origin of your name?”

“Pretty much my whole family has star-themed names. Sirius is the dog star from Canis Major.”

“Brightest star in the sky, too. What’s one thing people don’t know about you?”

“I’m an introvert. Lots of people assume that I’m super social because of my job, but I’m very quiet in real life.” He walks back out to the entrance and takes the towel off the table, then moves into the kitchen. It’s well-lit and painted a deep, warm red. The countertop is scattered with knickknacks and picture frames—clearly, this is a place people spend a lot of time. Hattie, who followed them in, lays down by the oven with a heavy sigh.

“What’s your wakeup ritual?”

Sirius reaches up and pulls two mugs out of the cupboard. “I wake up around seven am and make coffee while Re is in the shower, then rinse off and get dressed while he makes breakfast. It’s a good system. Want some tea?”

“Sure. What’s your bedtime ritual?”

“I don’t think I have one,” he says as he puts the kettle on and ignites a burner on the stove. “Usually we read or watch a movie, then go up to bed and talk for a while. There’s not a big routine or anything.”

“Sounds nice. What’s your favorite time of day?” Dorcas sits on the other side of the kitchen island while he takes a box of peppermint tea down.

“That’s a tough one. I like the in-between spots, like just after sunrise or dusk. Three in the afternoon is usually pretty chill as well. Does anyone else want a cup?”

There are a few murmurs behind the camera and he takes two more down. “What is one thing no one knows about you?” Dorcas asks.

He raises an eyebrow. “If I told you, everyone would know, and it wouldn’t count.”

“Fair enough. Dream country to visit?”

“Anywhere. I think I want to go to Ireland first, though.” Small wisps of steam begin curling out of the kettle, but it doesn’t whistle.

“Do you ever feel pressure to post things on social media?”

Sirius makes a face. “I used to. Eventually I just got tired of it, you know? The whole point of social media is sharing bits of your life with people and it makes me happy to show off my dog, or Re, or my friends. I post things just for fun now.”

The kettle begins to hiss and he reaches back to turn it off. “Sneakers or skates?”

“Skates.”

“Vintage or new?

“Vintage, especially for t-shirts and sweaters.”

“Who is your biggest role model?”

“Pascal Dumais.” Sirius stops pouring for a moment to look up at the camera. “If you ever get a chance to meet him, listen to what he has to say. You’ll be better for it.”

“Wise words. How do you deal with negativity? Oh, thank you.” Dorcas wraps her hands around the mug and takes a small sip while Sirius passes the other ones to the crew.

“Honestly? I don’t give a shit. It used to really bother me, but I’m happy, I have a job I love, and my family cares about me. Why should I care what people I’ve never met think of me?” He sits on the counter and rests his elbows on his knees, blowing on the hot water.

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“My dog, Remus, and my family.” There is no hesitation in his voice.

“Not hockey?”

“I’d be devastated if I couldn’t play, sure, but it’s not the central focus of my life anymore.”

“What’s one ingredient you put in everything?”

“Does salt count?” He winces as he takes a drink. “Ugh, burned my tongue. I put salt on a lot of things because I drink so much water that it throws my balance off.”

“What is something you’re completely bored of right now?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Gossip columns and tabloids in general.”

Dorcas hums in agreement. “What’s your biggest fear in life?”

“Losing my loved ones.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Window. Anyone walking by always steps on my foot or hits my elbow if I’m in the aisle. Plus, I get a good view and an easy nap spot.”

“What’s your current TV obsession?”

“Avatar: The Last Airbender, which I’m watching for the third time already.” He shakes his head. “It’s just so good.”

“Favorite app?”

He takes a second to think. “Spotify.”

“Secret talent?”

Sirius looks at her over the rim over his cup. “This is going to shock you. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Hockey.”

“You’re the worst.” Despite her words, Dorcas smiles. “What the most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?”

“Uh, probably going to Europe with some of the guys last year. We had a lot of fun, but it was crazy.”

“I can imagine it was. How would you define yourself in three words?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome.”

“And apparently not humble,” Dorcas teases. “Favorite piece of clothing?”

“Hoodies.”

“Clothing item everyone should have?”

“Hoodies.”

A door opens behind them and the camera turns; Remus walks out of the basement, covered in sweat as he wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt and holds his skates in his other hand. “Baby, have you seen…” he trails off when he sees the group of people in the kitchen. Hattie’s tail thumps on the floor. “Um. Hello.”

“Hey, Remus, how are you doing?” Dorcas asks mildly.

The camera pans out to catch both Sirius, who is laughing quietly, and Remus, who flushes pink. “I’m good. I thought you were coming at ten?”

“It’s ten-thirty, sweetheart,” Sirius says, hiding his smile in his tea.

Remus glances at the clock before giving an awkward nod and walking toward the stairs. “I guess I’ll take a shower, then. Sorry about that. Uh, carry on.”

“What’s a superpower you would want?” Dorcas asks as soon as he disappears.

Sirius shakes his head with a grin. “Uh, teleportation. That would be really cool.”

“What’s inspiring you in life right now?”

“Ah, une grande question.” He thinks, then tilts his head toward the staircase. “Moments like that. And the Stanley Cup, of course.” He reaches back and knocks on the wooden cupboard.

“What cause is closest to your heart?”

“LGBT+ rights, especially trans rights. I’m privileged enough to have a platform and I intend to be loud as hell about that.”

“Good.” Dorcas sets her almost-empty mug on the table. “What’s one thing you’d say to your teenage self?”

Sirius lets out a long breath and drums his hands on the light blue ceramic of his cup. “I would say…it gets better. It really, really does. You’re going to feel super shitty for just a little bit longer, but then I promise you will be so incredibly happy that you wake up every morning and it hits you all over again.”

Dorcas nods, and the kitchen is quiet for a moment. “What’s a book that everyone should read?”

“The Hobbit, by J.R.R Tolkien.”

“What would you like to be remembered for?”

“This is going to sound so corny, but I want to be remembered for just being a good person.”

“That’s not corny. How do you define beauty?”

“Remus Lupin.”

“That’s corny,” she laughs, making him smile. “What do you love most about your body?”

“I’m a big guy, which can be a little bit intimidating, but it means I give really great hugs. I’m sure everyone saw the video that went around a while ago.”

“Cap Cuddles?”

He snorts. “Right. You’ve got Finn O’Hara to thank for that.”

“In your opinion, what’s the best way to take a rest or decompress?”

“Being alone,” Sirius says. “There is literally nothing better than getting home and sitting down with a book or something while I can hear Re doing his own thing and Hattie’s napping. It’s one of my favorite parts of the afternoon.”

“That’s the most introverted thing you’ve ever said.” Dorcas grins and finishes her tea just as a faint beeping noise begins in another room. “What’s your favorite way to experience art?”

“Through music, for sure.” He slides off the counter and walks down the hall, leading them toward the laundry room. He gives the camera crew a look as he pulls dry clothes out of the machine and heads back to the living room. “What? Did you think I didn’t do my own laundry?”

“You lost a sock,” Dorcas informs him, picking it off the ground and laying it on top of his head.

“Thanks, D.”

“What question do people ask that you wish they wouldn’t?”

“Lots of people have asked me when I decided to be gay, which is wrong on so many levels.”

“If you could master one instrument, what would it be?”

“Guitar or piano.” He dumps the load of laundry on the couch and opens the back door, holding it for the crew as they walk out into the sunshine. Hattie weaves through their legs and disappears into the bushes along the back.

“I might have to take your dog home with me. If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Sirius mock-glares at her. “Let me have my girl! Um, I would love to have a tattoo somewhere on my arm.”

“This might be a hard one. Dolphins or koalas?”

“Oh, that is hard. Probably dolphins. The ocean is terrifying but those little guys are just having a blast.”

“What’s the best gift you’ve ever received?” Dorcas asks as he picks up a tennis ball and throws it across the yard. Hattie emerges from the bushes and races after it in a blur of black fur.

“An engagement ring.”

“Yeah, it was.” Remus walks into the backyard and kisses Sirius’ cheek before bending down to catch Hattie in his arms. His hair is still damp from the shower. “Hello, sweet girl!”

“Who’s your favorite musician?”

“Queen.” Sirius laughs at her surprised look. “I’m gay, what did you expect?”

“True. What’s your favorite board game?”

“Monopoly.” Remus and Hattie disappear from the frame, but the bouncing sound of the tennis ball creates some background noise and Sirius watches them for a moment with pure affection.

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Least favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“Bowties or knot ties?”

He frowns. “Don’t they all have knots?”

“Smartass.”

“Yep! Uh, regular ties.”

“Bowties are superior!” Remus calls.

“Get your own questions!” Sirius laughs.

“Going off your music answers: records or CDs?”

“I don’t own a lot of records, so I’m going to have to go with CDs. I love the way vinyl sounds, though.” His eyes widen as he looks to the side. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Remus wheezes. “I didn’t need those ribs anyway.”

“For the viewers, the dog just football-tackled him into the grass,” Sirius says, and Dorcas snorts.

“Your hair is famously luscious. Blow-dry or air-dry?”

“Air dry.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, but tea is nice in the evenings.”

“What’s the weirdest word in the English language?”

Sirius laughs. “There are so many. Uh, ‘jeez’ is the one that comes to mind first.”

“What about the French language?”

“Oiseaux,” he says in a crisp accent. “It means ‘birds’, and you pronounce about three of the actual letters.”

“Good to know. Do you prefer dark chocolate or milk chocolate?”

“Dark chocolate.”

“Stairs or elevators?”

“Elevators. I don’t want to walk up three floors after playing hockey for two and a half hours.”

“Summer or winter?”

Sirius bites his lip in thought as they walk around the yard, where small flowers line the fence in beds and colorful pots. “I love summer because I have actual free time to be with my friends, but winter is hockey season. I don’t know, next question.”

“What’s a dessert you don’t like?”

“I’m not a huge fan of caramel. It’s too sticky.”

“A skill you’re working on mastering?”

“Will you ban me from more interviews if I say hockey?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’m working on keeping plants alive, as you can probably see.” He taps the nearest flowerpot gently with his foot; it has ‘Harry’ painted across it in sloppy blue letters. “My godson made that for my birthday.”

“What’s the best thing to happen to you today?”

“This, for sure,” he says with a smile. “I haven’t seen you and Marley in ages.”

“We missed you, too. What’s the worst thing that happened to you today?”

He pouts slightly. “Burning my tongue on tea.”

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Hugs! Though I’ll accept kisses from a few very specific people.”

“Do you have a favorite smell?”

He pauses and cranes his neck to look behind the cameras. “Re?”

“Yeah?”

“What shampoo do you use?”

“Uhhh…” There’s a moment of quiet. “It’s something with lavender, I think.”

Sirius turns back to Dorcas. “Something with lavender.”

“How specific,” she laughs. “What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?”

He smiles to himself. “There was a young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen, that came to one of the games earlier this season. I saw her standing with a puck and went over, and while I was signing it she looks at me and says, ‘you are exactly what I wish my older brother was like’. Turns out, she was bisexual and her brother wasn’t super accepting of her. That was…” He shakes his head. “That meant the world to me. I’ll never forget it.”

“You’ve definitely made a big impact on the community,” Dorcas agrees. “What’s the last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?”

“I watched ‘Soul’ the other night and almost had to pause it at one point to pull myself together.”

“Do you prefer animated movies or live-action?”

“Animated, mostly because I wasn’t allowed to watch Disney movies as a kid, so I’ve been catching up as an adult and they rock.”

“What’s your nerdiest quality?

“I love watching documentaries.”

“Sweet or savory?” The back door creaks a bit as they walk back inside and the camera catches a few frames of Hattie and Remus running around the yard together.

“Sweet.”

“In ten years, you have a daughter. What age do you let her date?”

Sirius gives Dorcas a look. “Whenever she wants to. I’m going to impose curfews and stuff, but I’m the last person on the planet to police her love life.”

“Good answer. What’s a song you can listen to on repeat?”

“Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. Absolute banger.”

“If you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be?”

“Arthur Weasley,” he says after a moment. “I would love to know what it feels like to get up in the morning and know you’re about to spend another day wrangling our team. It’s a miracle he hasn’t killed us all with his clipboard.”

“How do you know you’re in love?”

“Oh.” Sirius blinks at her in surprise at the sudden topic change. “Well, for me, I think it’s just…being comfortable around someone. Being able to spend time with them without saying anything and knowing you’re safe, no matter what. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

“What are you most excited about at this time in your life?”

A slight smile crinkles his eyes. “Getting married. That’s going to be awesome.”

“Who is your go-to for having a good laugh?”

“James Potter. He’s the best, and I love him.”

“Last question,” Dorcas says, sliding her list into her pocket. “Many LGBT+ people, especially teenagers, have spoken about how you’re an inspiration. Any words for them?”

Sirius hums in thought. “First of all, thank you for being so open and welcoming. I would never have expected the sheer force of people’s love to come through like that when so many people were saying horrible things. Second, to any kids out there who need to hear it: I’m proud of you. It takes a lot to be true to yourself and even if you’re still in the closet, you’re just as valid as the rest of us. Stay proud.”

“That’s a wrap.” Dorcas gives him a quick hug that he happily returns. “Thanks for letting us crash your morning, Cap.”

“Any time. Thanks for tuning in to Lion Pride, everyone!”

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bvannn · 1 year ago

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Weekly Update December 15, 2023

Finals week is done. I’m still worried about the one class but I’ve done everything I can. Next week I have some doctor appointments but otherwise am good to rest up and hopefully get more work done. I have tonight and tomorrow morning also before I have to do a long drive, so maybe I’ll finish off some other projects.

TRGA: 1-4 Tim’s tweens are done, and I have what I think is a faster strategy for tweens now as well, so all that should be moving faster. I just need to do Tim’s face and clean up his joints and he should be good for the shot, I can make and add in props and I’ll post the wip. I’m planning to do backgrounds all in one go at the end so they stay consistent from shot to shot, and sketch lines as well. I’ll probably do some of the more tedious work (exporting and reimporting sketch lines, and cleanup) in the evenings and the more brain intensive work like props during real free time.

Still chipping away at late drawing prompts. I got the rest of the Inktober set sketched, I’m nearing the ‘easy’ prompts for the cringe set, and the gore set I just haven’t had motivation for but I can maybe try to finish that one off in the next few days. Also haven’t gotten comic thumbnail stuff done since like 2 weeks ago but I might get cracking at that in the car ride tomorrow, or definitely after, there’s a lot more interest in my OCs than I thought so I really should be prioritizing that higher.

Music: real close on the one song, and recorded pieces for a piano arrangement of another thing. I wanted to doll it up with real instruments, and maybe I still will but I can also do a just piano version and throw that out. The main original I’m working on is close to done instrumentally, I was going to record the breakdown tonight but I’m a bit tired because I decided to do some chores, so maybe it’ll be tomorrow or maybe I will do it tonight. Also started poking around Melodies for a second song before realizing my retro sound chip plug-in set is a pain in the neck and will only play one note at a time so I need like 5 or 6 layers to do what I want and also the gameboy chip has hella delay for some reason. Not unfixable but annoying. Theoretically I should be moving to a new computer soonish so maybe I can try out some voice synths for the main song I’m working on since I don’t think I can sing.

I’m kinda hitting that tiredness wall but I should hopefully be able to get some rest in the coming week, get some stuff together to post, and be nice and ready. I should also mention I have a surgery coming up too which should take me out of commission for some time, idk how long, doesn’t sound very long though, at least not as long as the last one. That’s not until the week of christmas though so I should still be good to do stuff until then. Maybe I’ll draw tonight, maybe I won’t since it’s already late. I’ve been getting weird bouts of restlessness where I just decide to do a bunch of things at once, but I think I already got one when I decided to do chores. Oh well always tomorrow.

#weekly update

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

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we’re dancing under the rain

canon compliant juke | fluff! | inspiration: rain // ben platt

Julie wondered if one day, she could stop loving. Because damn - it hurt. It hurt to love so much and continuously have her heart be broken. Love and heartache cycled through her life like a never ending train and the girl was in a constant battle of wanting to shut down or give it another chance.

She always chose the latter, obviously, but that hurt too. The price she needed to pay to have such meaningful friendships. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have become a family with a trio of ghosts and an adjacent skater ghost. The problem of caring so much was when the heart got involved, when that heart beat a second too fast, too willingly, too adoringly.

It made her vulnerable, her heart jumping out of her chest to sync with the other person and then getting crushed instead. This time, it cut her particulary deep.

Nick broke up with her.

A puffy-eyed Julie sat huddled in the studio under a blanket. He did it during lunch. All of a sudden, he pulled her aside into the hallway, told her they didn’t quite fit together and that it was better if they broke up. He pretended like she had a say in it, though it was clear he already made up his mind. Which was even worse, Julie found. Nick had thought about it before, probably more than once. His words made her feel like a fool. There she was, thinking their relationship was going smooth, getting squashed a minute after that: no, actually, it’s not going smoothly and you’re probably in denial so let’s end it now.

Later, she’d probably thank him for ripping the band-aid. She was now allowed to be heartbroken.

Outside, rain was slamming against the pavement. That was the only good thing about the situation; the weather deciding to match her mood and mourn with her.

Luke poofed in with his signature grin, lips shaping to blurt out a story and then crashing into a frown when he saw the state she was in.

“Jules?”

Wordlessly, she covered her tear-stained cheeks with the blanket. She hated it when people - especially Luke - caught her at her lowest. The boys were dead, she couldn't really complain about minor inconveniences when the only reason they were breathing was out of habit.

The couch dipped at her feet. A careful hand patted her calf. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Yes, cause that’s what I do when nothing’s wrong.” His voice was light, though a keen ear like hers could sense the hint of concern. “I cry.”

Julie huffed, pulling the blanket back to scowl at him. “Nick broke up with me. But it’s whatever because it clearly wasn’t as big of a deal to him as it was to me, so-” Shrugging, she sat upright and wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “It is nothing.”

Her fingers combed through her hair, trying to relieve the heat bugging her skin. God, she just wanted this day to be over with. She didn’t want to rehearse and do homework and eat dinner and pretend everything was dandy. She just wanted to cry and sleep and not have Luke’s stupidly green eyes drown in pity.

“That sucks though,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Her lips rolled inwards, a smile forming despite her mood. “Not your fault.” Their gazes met. It felt new, somehow. “My heart is just… too open, I guess.”

Luke tapped her calf again, mirth lilting his tone. “Still not a bad thing. It was cool in the 90s and it’s cool now. He’s an idiot for not going crazy over it.”

“My open heart?”, she chuckled.

“Yeah.” A beat. His eyes haven’t wavered. “Or you. In general.”

The smile bloomed to a full grin, a sliver of levity easing the ache in her chest. Why did he always know what to say? Granted, he used to be horrible at cheering her up, when she was fifteen and sadness lingered in her every move, but he got the hang of it after two years. A reassuring kiss on her temple before a stressful gig, a particularly uplifting speech during band circle, a new tune he came up with when he knew she didn’t feel like talking. Her teenage girl melodrama unfazed him.

Luke met her halfway for a tight hug. It was the most comfortable place to be; her cheek on his shoulder and his arms holding her so securely and how, after all they’ve been through, his 90s cologne smelled like home.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “Some ghost girl is going to be so happy you’ve had practise dealing with me.”

He snorted. “Ah, yes. My harem of ghost girls. The, uh, market is really big for me.”

It wasn’t something they often discussed. It became clear that the boys weren’t going to cross over any time soon (if crossing over was even a thing, or the thing they thought it would be) and had time to settle into a long afterlife. Willie had been wandering around since the seventies and only now found Alex, so who knew how long Luke and Reggie would have to wait until they met their ghost-mate. It was a sad thought, but at least they had each other and music and the band.

There was also the minor problem that Luke sometimes had this look on his face, usually fixed on her, that left little to the interpretation. It hasn’t happened in a while, but every so often…

It kind of made her breathless. Whatever. It was dumb. Those feelings have long been buried. The point was that he should look at ghost girls like that - not her.

(A month after The Orpheum, they sat side by side behind the grand piano as they belted out a new song they’ve been working on, her fingers expertly gliding across the keys and slamming on those that needed that extra power. Julie was fully entranced, head thrown back and smiling through the lyrics as their voices reached a beautiful harmony no one could compete with. The last note drifted across the studio. When she turned to look at him, she expected to see the same grin. Instead, Luke gave her such a tender look, close, and let his doe eyes wander past her nose. Had Reggie not poofed in, she didn’t know if she would’ve had the restraint to not give in. To not be selfish. It was years ago, but she thought about it each time he joined her at the piano. It was the price for friendship, Julie often reminded herself. For an eternal bond.)

Rain kept drumming into the ground. It sounded like a million ping pong balls fell onto the roof at an incredible speed.

Luke pulled away and shot a look outside. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” Julie nodded. “I made a deal with God today. If I cry, the world does too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic.”

The smile stuck to her cheeks. Luke only needed a few minutes to lift her spirits. Tears didn’t even well up anymore. Was that bad? That one the same day, just in the afternoon, she already felt a bit better? She decided to not mull on the why.

“Wanna dance in the rain?”

She blinked. “What?”

He matched her smile, throwing his thumb at the doors. “Do you wanna dance in the rain?”

It was as if her brain wasn’t processing his words. “What? Why?”

“Why not?”, he shrugged. “You feel like shit, it never rains in LA and it’s fun.”

Quiet excitement coursed through her veins, the thrill pushing energy back in her bloodstream. Why not? The expectant twinkle in his eye brought colour to her face, jumping off the couch pulling him up with her. His whooping got her to laugh. It almost surprised her; she hasn’t properly laughed at all today.

They each pulled one sliding door open, their ears instantly bombarded with noise. It was the hardest downpour of the year!

“No running for cover!”, he yelled above the loud rushing of rain.

She stuck her pinky out. “Only if you won’t!”

And then they stepped in the rain. They were drenched straight away, a squeal erupting from her lips as the coldness crept between her clothes. He laughed, raking his hair back and leaping into a puddle. Water splashed around him.

His voice bellowed through the sound. “C’mon!”

It spurred her into action, his laugh replaying in her head over and over again, as her head lolled back and began to twirl in circles. Faster and faster, giggles tumbling out as felt herself becoming one with the rain. This was exactly what she needed. A moment of silliness and unconditional joy!

Luke was dancing like a maniac next to her, feet kicking and arms outstretched. She found herself staring at his profile, how bliss broke the lines in his face and caused a crescendo of glee to overcome him. It was mesmerising. Julie found herself slowing down, taken aback by the hope rising in her chest at the mere sight of him.

What she hoped for, she didn’t know. (She did. She just couldn’t admit it just yet.)

As if sensing her thoughts, Luke caught her eye with and yanked her into the dance without a second of hesitation. They spun around, hands intertwined and arms outstretched, daring to see how long they could keep going before one dropped from dizziness. Julie wasn’t afraid though. Luke would never let her fall.

They let go just as they were losing balance, snickering like fools and trying to find footing again. Julie jumped onto his back, him instantly jostling her around until she got chucked off like a sack of potatoes. Each grin and laugh and crack of thunder mended her heart, slipping the pieces back together and allowing it to bloom once more. Keep on breaking, keep on loving, keep on hoping, keep on hoping for-

Luke locked his hands around the small of her back. “Ready?!”

He didn’t have to ask twice, their steps speeding up as she threw her arms beside her and then, at their fastest, pulled one leg up to swing in his hold. How she didn’t slip on the soaking wet ground was a miracle.

Julie’s smile rivalled his, grabbing onto the lapels of his shacket to get him closer. He had something else in mind, hands slipping to her waist and launching her in the sky in one fluid motion. It took her breath away, quickly grabbing onto his shoulders and yelling her lungs out. It was just like in her dreams. Was it selfish of her to have yearned for this?

(She felt it. The way her heart washed away all the troubles, how the numbing cold shrivelled to make place for someone else.)

They shouted exclaims and curses into the rain. About Nick, about music, about each other, about how fucking unfair life could be, but damn - moments like these were worth the pain.

Her drenched curls tickled his face, causing him to sputter and attract her focus. Julie looked down at him and didn’t stop the heartstopping smile growing on her face. Oh.

Her fingers swiped against the planes of his cheeks, his grin beaming up at her and letting the dormant wildfire (snug between her ribs, among the flowers and the lyrics) come alive again. For so long, she hasn’t allowed herself to feel it. But how could she not when Luke propelled her into the storm itself, unify them like the whirlwind of passion they authentically were?

They were the thunder and the lightning, the silver lining and the punch line - the dancers in the rain.

He gently set her down, feet splashing. She didn’t let him pull away, instantly wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his wet shirt. They smelled like wet dogs and it was better than any perfume she’s ever had.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His head settled on top of hers, cool breath fanning her skin. “I can’t have you down in the gutter, Jules. Ever.”

I love you. “Ever?”

She felt him move, her eyes tilting to meet his. That expression she cherished deeply returned tenfold. His tender smile, the green hooded by shy eyes, an incredulous hitch of the breath.

Luke nodded, flitting gaze as if he didn’t quite know what to focus on, and carefully brushed a droplet from her cheek. “Ever.”

(Julie got a cold the next day. It didn’t matter - she had the boy of her dreams to keep her company.)

Breathe deep, let it wash over you We're slowly becoming lovers I promise you we won't be like the others We won't go running for cover

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided @sophiphi @unsaidjulie

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #nick takes the L

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fics-in-a-bottlepost · 3 years ago

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Six of Crows

The easiest thing in the world

Inej's letters to Kaz stop coming. He finds out about her wellbeing through one of the letters Jesper gets and believes they're slipping away from each other.

Inspired by "Das leichteste der Welt" by Silbermond, a song about going through a break up, heartbreak and (Kaz) being the one who's having a hard time dealing with it

💀💫 miscommunication, maybe angst(?) with happy ending

Dear Jesper,

I hope you're well. This was the second ship this month. It was a nasty one, lost one of our own but managed to rescue all kids.

One of the kids we picked up sure has a talent for art. I'll throw in a drawing that he gave to me with this letter.

He's twelve, made it on the evening we celebrated their freedom.

Love,

Inej

The drawing is very good indeed, he can easily recognize all familiar faces of the crew and their emotions are captured near perfectly. Kaz doesn't look up but Jesper is sure he listened when he read out the letter.

"Leave," Kaz all but grunts when someone knocks at the door. "Leave!"

More of a growl this time. Jesper isn't too sure if that is entirely the fault of his friend's leg pain but he doesn't dare ask. Even he knows when to shut up. The steps in front of the door fade, then falter. Neither of the two young men in the room give it a second thought. Kaz looks up at him. "You too."

If he would have been asked later what had ridden him to leave the drawing, folded together, on a drawer in Kaz room, he couldn't tell. In front of the door, a few steps down from Kaz's office, stands a stranger with a small leather bag in her hand. Jesper nods briefly as he passes, then doesn't even glance back until he is at the end of the stairs. The stranger just emerges the room at the top of the stairs again then, empty-handed this time.

"Inej sent a letter?" Wylans head jerks up from the piano when Jesper throws the letter on the instrument. "Yeah. She's probably coming home soon. She said in her last letter that there's only two more ships for this seafearing and this was the second."

Wylan closes the lid of the piano, then grabs a pencil from behind his ear to cut some notes from his sheet of music. "What did Kaz say?"

"Bad day today, so not much," Jesper answers and snatches the letter of the piano again, reading it out loud to his boyfriend.

"Can I see the drawing?" Wylan asks and stretches out one hand, the other still busy correcting his notes.

"I left it in Kaz office. Figured he'd wanna have a look at it, was too busy working before."

A single look tells him. Jesper smirks, shaking his head. "I'll go get it."

Wylan opens the lid again, playing his corrected notes as Jesper takes his leave. The Crow Club is busy as usual but Kaz is nowhere to be seen. Maybe still brooding in his office. He checks in about Kaz's whereabouts with the bartender, who tells him he's out but should be returning in mere minutes.

There was no reason to bother waiting when he knows exactly where the drawing is. Or so Jesper thought. Because as it turns out the drawing had left its place on the drawer. Would Kaz have taken it with him? Probably not, he always kept sentimental stuff in the safety of his walls. Therefore the paper must be here somewhere. Jesper feels bad for rummaging through Kaz's drawers but if Brekker had actually moved the letter's attachement, he prefers not having to ask his boss where it is. There was probably a reason as to why he had moved it. Surprisingly the drawing isn't in the trash and also not in one of the locked drawers as Jesper finds out. The drawer right underneath Kaz's desk is unlocked and not even fully closed. Another piece of paper is folded together with the drawing. Jesper tugs both from the drawer, throwing the drawing back in for now. The other paper shows Kaz's handwriting, seeming messier than usual. The ink is smeared at the end of some words but the text is still readable.

Inej,

In the drawing you sent the grin radiates of you and everyone around as they celebrate their captain and your work. You look so happy, it somehow hurts. To know that you're this disgustingly happy without me by your side. That you don't need me anymore. I still need you, you know? But you can't even be bothered to write anymore.

And I? I can't sleep. Not without throwing something in. A draught, pills, anything that helps numb the pain and stop my head for just a couple hours. Just got another one.

And you're standing there, both feet planted firmly on the ground in your new life, looking ahead. As if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Ghezen, Kaz," Jesper chuckles. "Lovesick idiot, are you? It was only three months."

He puts the paper back into the open drawer and plucks out the drawing instead, pocketing it. As the noise goes down outside for a second, Jesper closes the drawer to how it was before and walks out the door and down the stairs in the next moments. Just in time as it seems as Kaz passes him at the bar just seconds later. Jesper waits, on the lookout for a certain reaction. Nothing happens in the next ten minutes though.

Then Wylan appeares at the door and Jesper slips out of the club into his boyfriends welcoming arms.

It's just two more days then before he strolls into Kaz's office with good news:

"She's back. I saw her ship turn up at the horizon just moments ago."

"You came back." Kaz says as Inej stops in front of him. His voice is rough and somewhat tense, as if he had been clenching his jaw for some time.

"Of course I did. I wrote you I'm coming home." Inej frowns, her answer sounding more like a question itself.

"Your letter."

"Yes? I send you six, you never replied. I thought you were too busy."

"I only got this." Kaz frowns and holds up the drawing just as Jesper appeares in Inej's view. Obviously she recognises it but before she can ask, it is hidden in Kaz pocket again.

Just then Jesper comes to a halt beside them. He hugs Inej briefly, before her eyes wander back to Kaz.

"What about the one I sent you?"

"The one you-" he cuts off, starting over. "I didn't get any letters."

Jesper chips in. "Then where did they go?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to find out."

It's not Kaz's work in the end.

A stack of letters, neatly tied up with a little ribbon, lands on his desk by night time. Inej is at the window, back in the clothes she wore when working for Kaz as the Wraith. "The black tips. They have this new guy, with skills like mine but not as good. He somehow snatched all your letters on their way. Didn't read a single one though. Won't bother us again for now, too."

If Inej stays with him, perched on the windowsill looking out into the night while Kaz reads her letters and comments on them here and there, then it's only for the purpose of somewhat bringing back their routine. And if Kaz stores all the letters except one drawing of Inej in a sealed box underneath his bed, then noone but him has to know.

#six of crows fic #six of crows #kanej fanfiction #wesper #miscommunication #angst with a happy ending #Spotify

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moonbeambucky · 5 years ago

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Hey Neighbor (Part 25)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 6423 Warnings: mention of injuries, fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 24 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Time stands still like the eerie calm of the earth before a storm and in less than the blink of an eye things move all at once. The clouds break open with the downpour of your tears, a tornado sends you in a dizzying frenzy to change your clothes, hellish winds are unleashed that blow you across town so quickly you nearly forgot to take your phone with you as you scrambled out of the Uber that raced you to the hospital.

Sam’s call was brief. Bucky was brought into the emergency room by ambulance, fading in and out of consciousness from a car accident. Sam nearly went into shock himself seeing his friend littered in cuts and scrapes. You didn’t have time to ask much else, barely even changing out of your pajamas. You swapped thin bottoms for leggings, quickly grabbed your bra and threw a hoodie over it all, not thinking about how your hair looked or bothering to pick out the crust that just began to take root in the corner of your eyes. You grabbed a bag tossing in your keys and wallet and clutched your phone in hand to run downstairs.

The fluorescent lights are blinding as you enter the hospital, searching for Sam through the chaos of chatter and noise. The beep beep beep of machinery all around you, coughing, crying, moaning wails from people that want help or attention or just a place to sleep off their drunkenness. The ER was a maze you knew every route of but your mind pushed the knowledge out needing more space to panic.

Where is Bucky? Where is Sam?

You remembered the nurses’ station, sprinting towards it and happy to see a familiar face that does not recognize you right away. You didn’t expect Stacie to; you looked quite different when you were not put together in professional clothes and on the verge of bursting into tears and throwing up at the same time.

Together you quickly found Sam, unable to hold back the dam when you saw him and asked about Bucky.

“He went up into surgery.”

“Surgery!?” you cried out. “Is he going to be okay? Sam what happened?”

He let out a long and heavy sigh. The harsh lights above were unkind, showing the depths of the circles under his eyes.

“His leg is broken and he has some internal bleeding but we stabilized him and…”

You knew how hard Sam works, how everyone in this hospital works, getting an up close experience from your time there so you hated to be this person, frantic and begging for answers that he didn’t have.

“Doctor Palmer is an excellent surgeon. I’m gonna call her assistant now to let them know I’m sending you up.”

You nodded, biting your lip and roughly wiping away fresh tears. Sam pulled you into his chest and you felt your knees buckle. Bucky had to make it through surgery, he had to! A heavy sob wracked through you as you thought of the worst. Sam squeezed tighter, wishing he could stay with you upstairs through the surgery. Hell, he’d scrub in himself if they’d let him just so he could say he’s done everything to help his friend through this.

“I’ll be up when I can,” he promised, walking you towards the elevator.

You forced a worried smile. “Thanks Sam. Do you know… did anyone call his parents?”

Sam clenched his jaw as he thought about it. “It was pretty crazy in there, I’m not sure. I could fi–” He was interrupted by someone calling his name and you knew you had taken too much of his time already.

Your stomach dropped as the elevator went up, bringing you to an unfamiliar floor with unfamiliar faces that made you feel like an unwelcome stranger in someone’s home. You let the staff know you were here for James but a by-the-books nurse wasn’t keen on giving you information. Without thinking straight you had stupidly answered no when they asked if you were family, and when you asked if Bucky’s family was called she wouldn’t tell you.

You exhaled a deep, calming sigh, not wanting to yell at the person that was just doing their job, but as you sink into the uncomfortable chair you can’t help but silently cry to yourself. This woman doesn’t know how badly you need to know if Bucky’s okay. She doesn’t know that you spent the last few months ignoring him and wishing you could take it all back. She doesn’t know how much you miss him, how you love him. Even though he broke your heart you couldn’t help yourself from gluing the pieces back together and you needed to tell him, maybe you couldn’t tell him the truth but Bucky needed to at least know that you didn’t hate him.

The clock ticks away slowly and no one has come to speak with you. You stare at Winifred’s profile. She hasn’t updated her status since late in the afternoon. Does she know? Did anyone call them?

You decide they need to know, they need to be here just in case. A wave of nausea rolls over you at the thought and suddenly you become dizzy in your seat. You’re hot, sweating in the hoodie and yet you push on. Shaky fingers google his parent’s names and hometown in the hopes they are listed. You find a number, hesitant to call at this late of an hour. Rebecca was a few hours behind, and you debated messaging them in hopes of a fast reply. Should you do that? Should you be doing this at all?

Fuck.

If you had some answers you could at least feel a little better about all of this. You messaged Rebecca on Instagram telling them what happened and leaving your number. Your cheeks burn like lava as you rest your palm against them, dialing the number that google provided which may or may not be correct.

The phone rings and rings, and with each unanswered ring your stomach twists a little tighter. Relief comes but only slightly by way of Winnie’s bubbly voice prompting you to leave a message. Your voice shakes as you do, letting out a strangled cry as you leave them the limited details you knew about Bucky. Are they sleeping?

It doesn’t take long before your screen lights up with a number you don’t recognize and you were relieved to hear Winnie’s voice. Someone did call her and George, and they were on their way to the hospital.

“Rebecca sent me your number. I’m so happy you’re there. We’ll see you soon sweetheart,” she said, with sobs in her voice.

After hanging up you saw a message from Rebecca repeating what you already knew. They asked if it was okay to call you and you were thankful for the distraction. Together you tried to comfort each other, worrying about Bucky making it through surgery, about their parents driving with little sleep and so much on their minds.

“They’re here,” you said spotting George first from down the hallway, “I’ll call you back.”

It had been at least a half hour since their call and getting up from the chair was slow, your body ached from sitting for too long but you didn’t care. George and Winnie wrapped you in their arms, tears flowing as you embraced. The tears poured a little harder as you gripped them tightly, realizing how nice it was to see them again but wishing desperately it was under different circumstances.

George withdrew first, going up to the desk to let them know he was there. Winnie cupped your face softly, her hands were cold but it felt good against the heat of your skin. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile that released more tears down her reddened cheeks, her eyes already swollen and full of spidery veins.

Together you waited. Talking, pacing, crying, waiting, waiting, waiting until a short woman in green scrubs called out for the Barnes family. The three of you jump up and you feel immediately sick, holding on to Winnie’s arm as you try to read the expression of the woman before she said anything.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes my name is Doctor Palmer, I was the surgeon who worked on your son James.”

Winnie held your hand a little tighter, squeezing as every second went by until Dr. Palmer said he was stable and in recovery.

“He came in with blunt force trauma from a crash. He fractured two ribs and there was some internal bleeding from his spleen which we were able to repair with arterial embolization. However, James had a severe compound fracture of the tibia. We debrided the area and secured the bone with plates and screws. James is in the post op recovery room and he’s awake but not fully lucid.”

A collective sigh of relief filled the waiting room, with mixed tears of happiness flowing freely again. The doctor said a nurse would come by to bring you in to see him shortly and you couldn’t wait. You didn’t know what you would say to Bucky or if he would even be alert enough to hear you but you knew it was time to let him know that the past is in the past and you want to move forward.

A beat fills the room, steady like a metronome to keep the rhythm but the sound is unfamiliar. Too soft for the drums, not high enough for strings. Quick, simple. Piano? No. The sound isn’t broad enough. Keyboard? Yes. Electric, synthy. But it still sounds wrong.

Bucky tries to open his eyes but his lids are too heavy, bolted down by invisible chains. He sees the light of the sun through them. He tries to lift his arm to shut the blinds but even they are too sluggish to move, heavy like they were coated in cement.

He feels the scratch of a rough blanket against his skin, vague thoughts cross his tired mind wondering the whereabouts of his comforter. His toes are cold, feeling like tiny icicles are hanging off them. His right foot drags against the mattress. Was it always this uncomfortable? It’s his left foot that isn’t covered, a sock that probably came off in the night.

In a state of half sleep Bucky tries to wiggle the icicles off and suddenly his whole body feels like it’s been set ablaze. The beat quickens. A terrible pain fires through every nerve. There’s a sharp sensation in his hand when he tries to move it making him wince. His left side has a dull stabbing ache that increases as he takes a deep breath. Bucky feels sore all over like he was just hit by a–

And then he remembers.

His breaths are shallow, the tempo moving rapidly like the hook of an EDM song about to drop the beat as Bucky replayed the scene like a movie. He left the premier’s after party in an Uber never expecting the violent jolt of an SUV t-boning the car into a traffic pole. Everything after was a blur. There were flashing lights, noise, a steady bright light, an angel with the face of Y/N.

Bucky’s eyes fly open in state panic as he looks around wildly at his surroundings. His leg is in a cast, elevated by a sling. Needles in his arm, tubes around his nose, wires everywhere. He felt like a mess, he could only imagine he looked even worse but then all of his worries fade away when he sees Y/N, the angel at his side.

You’re asleep on the chair, elbow propped up on the wooden arm with your head leaning against your palm. It’s not comfortable at all but you didn’t complain, it wasn’t important. It was nearly five in the morning when Bucky was moved to a room. The walls were a dreadful sage green that looked more like dirty money in the dim light of dawn. The room was small but the lack of a second bed for the time being made things seem a little larger.

George went off in search of a third chair for the room as you and Winnie pulled yours up close to Bucky, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Sam came up to visit after his shift ended, introducing himself to Bucky’s parents. The tackling hug Winnie gave him was unexpected by his sleep deprived body but he accepted it all the same, giving her a reassuring hug that everything would be okay. Before he left you whispered a thank you in Sam’s ear, for treating Bucky and giving you a call. You promised to keep him updated as told him to get some rest, he certainly deserved it.

Bucky slept peacefully as you watched over him, your head falling forward and jolting you awake every time you had begun to fall asleep. Winnie had already fallen asleep but you were fighting against your body’s needs. You stared longingly at Bucky, wanting to be awake in case he woke up. George put a gentle hand on your shoulder, nodding with silent permission that it was okay to shut your eyes. A large black cup of coffee aided him in keeping watch and so you blinked slowly, your lids growing heavier with every languid motion until they remained shut for the next few hours. It wasn’t until the sound of rapid beeps that you were alerted into consciousness again.

Your head whipped up quickly with concern at the sound that slowly began to steady, finding Bucky awake with an ever so slight tug of a smile on his lips that grew once you locked eyes. It had been far too long since you looked at Bucky, truly looked at him without anger and heartache clouding your vision.

The scrapes and bruises that littered his face did not hinder any part of his handsomeness. His lips were dull and slightly chapped and yet it didn’t stop you from wanting to press yours against them. You lifted your eyes towards his, feeling blessed to be able to stare at the most beautiful shade of blue once more. They glistened with unshed tears as Bucky gazed back at you.

Your own tears came instantly, falling down the curves of your smile as you leaned over him. Your name fell softly from his lips and hesitantly you lifted your hand, wanting to reach out and caress his face. You pulled it back, dropping your head for a moment, squeezing tears out of your tightly shut eyes. Bucky was a blur when you opened them again but he was there, he was alive and you were more than thankful.

“Hey neighbor,” you sniffled. “It’s good to see you.”

No longer caring if you should or shouldn’t touch his face, you wanted to. Your thumb gently grazed the delicate skin of his cheek, early stubble scratching lightly as you brushed against it.

Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling him smile against your palm. “It’s good to see you too.” His voice was strained, still dry from surgery.

You took Bucky’s hand in your own, careful of the IV sticking out. He asked what happened, knowing he was in an accident but unsure of the details afterwards. It was obvious his leg was broken but you told him the specifics– the emergency surgery to fix his break and stop his internal bleeding, how Sam had treated him when he came into the ER. He smiled at that.

“You broke a few ribs too.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised in acknowledgment. “So that’s why it hurts to breathe.”

Your lips pulled tightly across your face, wishing you could take the pain away from him. The tension released when you felt Bucky squeezing your hand as if he heard your thoughts, offering you comfort when he was the one that really needed it.

“Oh, your parents are here,” you remembered, though you looked around, unsure of where they went. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to contact Claire.” The shock of Bucky’s accident made you forget to text all your friends until the early morning.

His face twists with confusion. “Claire?” Did you really not know? “Claire and I have been broken up for months.”

Your lips move without sound as you try to process what he said. You didn’t know what to say, wondering if Bucky hid his breakup as you had yours. Now you didn’t feel as guilty holding on to the feelings in your heart. You’re about to blurt out the words, to tell Bucky what you couldn’t say back to Peter but the sound of Winnie calling his name stopped you and you turned to see her running up to his bed.

“James, you’re awake. We were so worried,” she cried in his ear, contorting herself around machines while being mindful of Bucky’s injuries.

George walked in with a cup of coffee for you and you thanked him, getting up so he could get closer to Bucky. The warm brew felt good going down even though it wasn’t the best, forgetting to warn them about the cafeteria’s lack of quality. Good thing you weren’t relying on this to keep you awake, not since Bucky shocked every cell of your body into full alertness with his news. Though you were happy to learn he broke up with Claire it still didn’t mean what you wanted it to and you were thankful you hadn’t scared him off with an “I love you.”

Pulling out your phone you saw a text from Wanda, featuring a block of caps locked screaming with question marks and sad emojis. You typed back an update about Bucky, looking over at him with his parents and back down again to the message that was still in the process of sending. It took a few minutes before the message decided not to go through at all.

You excused yourself, letting everyone know you were going to update all your friends about how Bucky was doing. George commented on the terrible service in the room so at least it wasn’t just your phone. You probably could have stood on a chair trying to force better service somehow in different parts of the room but you also wanted to give Bucky and his parents an opportunity for privacy.

“I’ll be right back,” you said with a smile, passing a woman coming in with flowers for the person who had been brought into the other side of the room early in the morning. Your gaze lingered back at Bucky one final time before leaving.

George shared a look with Winnie and staring at her son she said, “Y/N was here all night you know...”

With your phone in hand you follow it like it’s a map with five full bars leading you to treasure. It only took walking around the whole floor to find a good spot on the opposite side of the building near a window for your text to go through. In between sips of coffee you recorded a message for everyone on the group chat, it was so much easier than typing it out and you were still very tired.

You decided to finish your coffee there, giving Bucky and his parents more time as you stared out the window at what looked like a bright and beautiful morning. A slew of notifications came on your phone as half the people responded. Clint was probably still sleeping but Natasha replied asking if Bucky needs anything. Though Peggy was in England she asked if there was anything she could do. Steve wondered if he wanted visitors and asked you to pass along his get well wishes. You typed back that you would find out, promising to keep in touch as the day went on.

When your cup was empty you tossed it into a nearby garbage can and headed back, not expecting to hear your name being called.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You turned to see Elena, concern etched on her face as she held onto your shoulder. Embarrassment washed over you as you remembered how you looked, feeling even worse when you realized that earlier in the week Elena was technically your boss.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay. A friend of mine came in last night, car accident. I’ve…” you took a moment to yawn, covering your mouth, “Excuse me, I’ve been here all night.” You slapped your face lightly to wake up, now wishing the coffee had been stronger. “He’s going to be okay though,” you finished.

“He? Is this Bucky?” she wondered, and you were surprised she recalled his name since the wedding was months ago. You sighed, nodding slowly as your lips pulled into a soft smile. “I hope everything works out.”

Elena hugged you before she turned around to see a patient, reminding you she was here if you needed her. It was really nice to know she was there for you, Elena had become more than a mentor in the time you’ve worked for her.

Heading back in the room you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face when you saw Bucky. The few minutes apart you spent were more than you ever wanted to do again. George moved down a seat so you could sit closer to Bucky, letting him know everyone was asking about him, wondering if he wanted visitors.

Bucky sought your hand again, smiling as your soft touch helped to ease the discomfort he was feeling. It would be nice to see friends but he was more than happy you were here with him. It wasn’t long before a nurse came in to check vitals and Bucky was relieved since he definitely could use more pain medication.

Winnie asked you to join her to get food since no one had really eaten and even though you didn’t want to leave Bucky you weren’t going to say no to his mother. Besides, you needed to steer Winnie away from the cafeteria and the nurse seemed thankful to have less people in the room.

Bucky felt settled after a dose of painkillers, easing the radiating aches from all over his body. George poured a cup of water, handed it to him and set aside the pink plastic pitcher.

“How’re you feeling James?” he asked, forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was cry looking at the state of his son, from the deep purple bruises on his temple to the scrapes that marred his skin.

Bucky gulped down the water, quenching the arid condition of his mouth. “M’okay, a little better I guess.”

“Your head feels okay?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, no one said I hit it or– ”

“Are you sure about that?”

George leaned in closer, as Bucky squinted in confusion. His smile dropped and his eyes grew stern as he organized his thoughts into a more appropriate lecture despite the disappointing anger that bubbled beneath his skin.

“I really wonder James, because see Y/N, a great girl who clearly loves and cares about you and you let her go.” Bucky tried to interrupt, to fill in all the details he hadn’t told him in the past but George wouldn’t let him. “No son, there has to be something wrong with you if you can’t see it.”

“Dad, it’s… it’s complicated,” Bucky let out with a sorrowful sigh.

“James, real love is complicated. It’s wild and passionate as much as it is frustrating, but when you find someone that loves you as much as you love them it makes overcoming obstacles worthwhile. Love isn’t easy but it is easy loving someone that makes you feel alive, that makes life worth living and when you find that someone you don’t let them go. Don’t let her go, James.”

Bucky sits with the weight of his father’s words heavy on his chest. It had already been hard to breathe and now things felt worse. He doesn’t know the full story, how a stupid mistake ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He wants to make it right, to tell you everything not that it would change anything. Bucky assumed that since you spent all night waiting by his side that you at least don’t hate him anymore like you used to, so maybe your friendship can be salvaged. Still, it’s going to hurt him to see you in Peter’s arms but Bucky would rather have you back in his life because not having you there at all is far worse.

You come walking in with his mom, smiling and laughing and it’s such a beautiful sight. The smile on his face can’t help but grow. Bucky watches as his father wraps an arm around his mom, pressing a kiss to her temple. She smiles looking up at him, pulling out sandwiches from a deli you had come from.

“Ohh and someone wants to say hello,” Winnie said, pulling out her phone, trying her best to connect to Rebecca on FaceTime despite the shitty signal. The connection is spotty and Bucky ends up having a regular phone conversation with them. They were definitely happy to hear he was doing better.

After the call Bucky asked about his phone and his mom found the bag of his personal belongings in the closet. She grimaced at the lack of clothes, realizing whatever he came in with was most likely cut off him in the ER, thoughts of the whole ordeal bringing tears to her eyes. Underneath his shoes were his wallet and phone which she handed him, surprised to see the screen had not cracked.

Bucky attempted to turn it on but it was dead. Normally you carry a charger with you but in the rush to leave your apartment that was the last thing on your mind. Your own battery had just passed half its life but you didn’t really care. There was nothing else you needed to focus on today besides Bucky.

His parents stay into the afternoon, getting a chance to speak with the doctor and meeting Natasha, Clint and Steve who arranged their visit together. They left shortly after since the room had gotten crowded between everyone and visitors for the person in the other bed. You and Winnie hugged, squeezing tight for a lingering moment, fighting the urge to cry again out of exhaustion and relief for the night you went through together. George gave an equally strong hug, one that Bucky watched from his bed, overhearing his parents making sure you had both their numbers.

You looked just as tired as they did and Bucky knows you should probably go home. He wonders if you’ll leave when your friends do but when the time comes and Natasha is shrugging on her jacket you make no move to do the same, only getting up to hug them goodbye.

Alone again, Bucky finds comfort in the silence between you, as the speaker for the TV lays beside him filling the background with noise. He watches as you set up the cards he received on the windowsill, making sure Clint’s it’s going tibia okay card is angled so Bucky can see it and smile.

When dinner arrives he frowns at cold peas and carrots, eats the bland chicken and enjoys the soup more than he thought. Bucky urged you to eat something more than the bags of chips and nuts you had been snacking on since the sandwich you split between breakfast and lunch. You insisted you were fine but he forced you to eat his salad, assuring you he was not in the mood to have it.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky groaned through an exhale, his eyes squeezed shut as hissed an unconvincing “yes” through his teeth.

“I need more pain meds and…” he shifted as much as he could trying to ease his discomfort.

“And what? Bucky, whatever it is I can get the nurse in.”

“I… it’s embarrassing,” he admitted.

You smiled softly, leaning close to remind him, “Whatever it is can’t be more embarrassing than the time I nearly shit myself in front of you. Remember? All my trips running to the bathroom hoping I could make it on time?”

Crinkles formed around his eyes as Bucky smiled, chuckling before he realized how much it hurt to do so, at the memory of your food poisoning and the weekend he spent helping you recover. And now here you were by his side, doing the same.

“It’s uh, my…” He looked away, blushing beet red as he squeaked out, “...my catheter. It’s not great.”

An array of expressions crossed your face. “Yeah… I can imagine.” When you finally locked eyes with Bucky again you couldn’t help but smile awkwardly, offering to go get him a nurse.

It took a few minutes to return as you looked for the nurse, coming back with a surprise, Wanda and Sam. Wanda held back tears as she carefully hugged him and Sam couldn’t help but go into doctor mode and ask how Bucky was doing.

“I’m good. Alive thanks to you.”

Sam grinned. “I can’t take all the credit, but you are lucky. Very lucky.”

The nurse lumbered in, tired from a long shift but his demeanor changed upon seeing Sam, the two of them knowing each other well. Riley had praised Sam’s skills having formerly worked beside him in the ER for a while.

“Riley, this is my boy so please, whatever he needs make sure he’s taken care of, alright?” Sam turned to Bucky, “You good? Do you need a sponge bath?”

Bucky sighed, “No Sam, I don’t need a sponge bath.” He blushed with embarrassment, rolling his eyes at his friend’s teasing. “I would really like to pee on my own though.”

“Riley, call the stream team!” Sam shouted a little too loud.

Bucky instantly regretted his admission, pinching the tender bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “It’s nice they let you out for some fresh air Sam, that padded room must get pretty boring.”

Sam wore a toothy smile, happy to see his friend was still in good enough spirits to rib him back. He and Wanda stayed long enough for the shift change and though Sam didn’t personally know the next nurse he introduced himself and wanted to make sure Bucky was taken care of.

Once again you made no move to leave when Sam and Wanda did, getting up only to stretch. Your bones creaked like old wood, stretching out stiff muscles until you felt the slightest bit of relief. The chairs provided were not the most uncomfortable but after almost a day they definitely took a toll.

Bucky notices the way your eyes grow tired, how every action has slowed. You’ve been in the hospital nearly as long as he has and he doesn’t envy you, even with his injuries.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, stirring you alert. “It’s late, you should go home.” Your head shook before you spoke, opening your mouth to protest but he cut you off. “I’m good, I promise. You’ve been here all day and night, go get some sleep in a real bed.”

It would look stupid if you argued at this point, as you tried to fight back a yawn. Bucky asked you for a favor before you left, to grab his keys and bring some clothes and his phone charger tomorrow. “Only if you don’t mind.” Of course you would.

“Oh and one more thing,” he said, his eyes pleading up at you. “Call me when you get home. I need to know you got back safely.”

You nodded, smiling softly, before entering the number from his bedside phone into yours. Leaning down you pressed your lips against Bucky’s forehead, letting them linger against the warmth of his skin. Upon pulling away you shared a moment, smiling back at each other before Bucky took your hand.

“Thank you Y/N,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There was so much Bucky meant within those words and by the way you looked at him he believed you knew.

With his body on fire Bucky still rested easier than he had in the last few months, knowing at the very least he had you in his life again.

The subway rocks gently as you travel down the familiar route to the hospital, this time not worrying about making it on time to clock in but with excitement fluttering in your belly to be able to see Bucky again.

Last night you called him just before you went into his apartment, grabbing the few things he asked for and not lingering. You were a second away from crashing, having enough energy to plug your phone in before your face hit the pillow.

In the morning you showered, drinking a strong cup of coffee as you got ready. You didn’t bother with much but it felt good to look presentable. You grabbed Bucky’s things, texting people before you lost service underground. Rebecca thanked you for the updates and said they were looking to fly in towards the end of the week. George and Winnie would definitely be happy to see them again. They contacted you this morning as well, saying they would be seeing you at the hospital in a bit.

Bucky tried to keep himself occupied, shutting his eyes and eventually finding sleep for a few hours before the nurse needed to check his vitals. He stared out his window, watching the dark blanket of the sky slowly lift over the buildings, falling asleep once more before the next round of nurses coming in. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to heal if he can’t sleep but the doctor lets him know he should be released tomorrow or the following day.

It lifts his mood but the height of his spirits soar high above the atmosphere when Bucky saw you walking into his room. You look much more rested than he does and he’s happy about it. He savors your arms around him, feasting upon the scent of your floral shampoo, your smile bringing sunshine upon a gloomy world.

You put the clothes he asked for in his closet, taking his phone and plugging it into the nearest outlet, settling down again in the familiar chair beside his bed. You were just as excited to hear about Bucky getting released soon, the thought of him being just beyond your shared wall again was comforting.

After charging for a little bit Bucky asked for his phone, just to check a few quick messages. You got up to unplug it, the screen lighting up and making your mouth fall open. Bucky’s lock screen was you! Well, it was the two of you, from that time Winnie was testing out her new phone. It was a beautiful memory, a candid capture of a moment in time when you gazed into each other’s eyes, the corners of your mouths settled into a smile; two people holding back the feelings that were written so evidently across their faces.

You pretended not to have seen it, handing him the phone with the screen down. Bucky nearly forgot about the picture himself, his eyes flitting quickly your way as he tried not to breathe too hard and have the monitors give away his panicked state.

Your head was turned up towards the TV, watching The Golden Girls through the muffled sound of the speaker resting against the side of the bed. You couldn’t look at Bucky in the moment, not when you felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. No, you needed this time to collect your thoughts, to find the perfect words to express exactly how you felt and right when they were at the tip of your tongue you held them back.

Winnie and George walked in looking a lot better than they had yesterday. They greeted you both and settled in for the next few hours. They too were excited about his impending release, offering Bucky to recover at their home.

“No, ma I’ll be fine. The building has an elevator, I’m good.”

Worry crossed her face. “What about food shopping? What about bathing?”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “Well you’re not gonna bathe me if that’s what you think.”

You swallowed a chuckle, shifting your expression to a serious one offering your help. “For the food shopping,” you nervously added. Learning from the past, you shut your mouth to avoid the risk of digging yourself a deeper, awkward hole.

His parents left to get lunch for everyone since Bucky was sick of cold vegetables, and the two of you were alone again. He cleared his throat, licking his lips before asking, “You really don’t mind helping me?��

Your smile answered him before your words. “Of course not. Plus we still have a lot of pizza to try.”

You bit your lip watching the smile spread across his face, relief washing over him as things seemed to snap back into place as if nothing had changed. But Bucky forgot about Peter. You had been spending so much time with him this weekend he almost convinced himself things were different.

“Peter isn’t mad you’ve been gone all weekend?” Bucky asked, doing a poor job in hiding the uneasiness in his face as he anticipated your answer. He’s a glutton for punishment, reminding himself that things will never truly be the same again and little does he know how right he is.

“I broke up with him weeks ago.”

Your answer takes a moment to register, the realization hitting Bucky more than the impact of the accident. “Why?”

Haloed by the glow of the sun behind you, the words sang like the message of an angel, because there had to be some sort of divine intervention that brought all of Bucky’s dreams true when you answered, “Because he wasn’t you.”

A tear slipped down your face and Bucky lifted his hand, cupping your cheek and brushing it away. You cupped his hand against you, exhaling staccato breaths and smiling down at the man that brought music into a world that felt silent without him.

You leaned down, the tip of your nose grazing against his, your smile matching his as you closed the distance, pressing your lips together once more. The sound of love flooded your soul as you and Bucky found harmony at last.

EPILOGUE

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fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 11/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Сhapter 9

Chapter 10

The gala was so much grander than anything Hange could have ever imagined.

The Reiss manor looked imposing and splendid enough from the outside, but the interior was something else entirely, straight up from a fairytale.

As they walked through the black heavy doors, a magnificent stairwell stood in front of them. The stairs were covered by a red carpet, the railings adorned by flower arrangements and all around them were tall candelabra that bathed the room in a gentle, yellow light.

If that’s how the hallway looked, Hange didn’t know what she should expect from the ballroom.

“We should be more careful,” Ackerman whispered in her ear, startling her. With all that beauty around, she forgot that he was walking by her side. She almost forgot why they came here in the first place. “There is a shit ton of security.”

“Huh?” mouth open wide, Hange turned her head from one side to another, looking around the room. How did she miss the security?

“Four-eyes,” Ackerman hissed, pulling on her hand. “Stop acting like a child in the circus. You’re the inheritor of the biggest hotel chain in the country, remember? Behave accordingly.”

“Right, right,” Hange mumbled, lifting her chin and relaxing her shoulders. While giving her a suit, Ymir also assigned her a role. She had to play it off accordingly. “Do I look arrogant enough now?”

Ackerman’s eyes ran through her entire form, following every inch of her burgundy suit. Hange almost blushed under his gaze. “You’re fine,” he breathed out finally. Dressed in a black three-piece suit and with his hair sleeked back to reveal his face and steely eyes, he looked more than just fine. But… Hange didn’t come here to ogle the man. She had a job, she just had to keep that in mind. “And there,” he leaned closer to her, discreetly pointing out at the men in black suits that stood in every corner of the room, still as stone. “That’s where security is. You would have noticed them have you not gaped like a fish.”

Hange ought to kick him for that. At the very least, she ought to throw some curse at him. But his proximity had her heart racing and his hot breath on her cheek had her skin flashing. It had her remembering the today’s morning, when she had woken up to find Ackerman sleeping on her couch. He looked so damn adorable, his mouth slightly open, his face relaxed and so damn attractive. Hange stood there for a long, long minute, staring at him, peacefully snoring, before she surrendered to her weakness and went back to the bedroom to bring a blanket and drape it over him.

She ran into the bathroom immediately after, in dare need of a long, relaxing shower. As she finished, she walked into the hallway and was met with a strong smell that had her mouth filling with saliva. Cautiously, she travelled to the source of it. That’s where she saw Ackerman, who was now wide awake and standing in her kitchen, cooking breakfast out of what little he could find in her refrigerator and humming some pop song under his breath. The sight was so fucking domestic that Hange had to stop herself from sneaking up on him to hug him from behind.

That urge was so sudden, so absurd, it came out of nowhere.

She blamed the weird, annoying impulse on the hangover that had her head pulsing for hours after she had woken up. It also made her feel nauseous but Hange wasn’t entirely sure if the heavy and uneasy sensation was caused by the alcohol, the events of last night, and, especially an accident with Erwin, or the damn butterflies that fluttered around in her stomach every time hers and Ackerman’s eyes met.

Focus, she scolded herself, moving away from Ackerman. Just a few inches were separating them now, but even that was enough to bring some clarity to her thoughts.

“Everyone here is so fucking rich,” she mumbled more to herself than her companion. “I bet that lady’s dress costs more than my annual income. How did Ymir manage to get tickets to this thing?”

“More scamming on her part, I presume,” Ackerman muttered, his lips sliding downwards in the expression of displease. Oh, right, Hange had almost forgotten about the tender bond Ymir and Ackerman had formed during last evening. “And she made me donate a fucking insane amount of money to some charity fund.”

“You donated… stolen money?”

“Of course, I donated stolen money,” he snapped. “I don’t have any kind of other money. In that regard, I’m not so different from these pigs around us. At least, I don’t try to appear nobler than I am.”

And yet Ackerman was noble, even though he was so adamant at hiding this part of him from the others. He could have left her behind last night, could have escaped to attempt to find his uncle on his own. But he hadn’t left. He hadn’t escaped. He had called Erwin and asked him to take care of her.

Hange still didn’t know what to make of it. Ackerman’s kindness confused and perplexed her. It made her wonder how much of his Levi’s persona was a lie.

Was it a lie, at all?

The sight of a grand ballroom in front of her snapped Hange out of her reverie.

The room was majestic – high golden ceiling, adorned with white, intricate ornaments, tall windows, marble statues that stood by the walls, a giant, glistening chandelier that showered every inch of the room with warm, gentle light. On the other side was a stage, where an orchestra was placed. A dozen musicians prevailed over the chatter of the guests, the violins, piano, cellos and trombones worked as one to enhance the atmosphere of the event with a slow, pleasant melody.

Remembering Ackerman’s advice, Hange paid a more thorough attention, not only admiring her surroundings, but also keeping a close eye on every guest, searching for Frieda Reiss’ youthful and pretty face.

“There she is,” Ackerman pointed his chin at the woman in blue dress that was standing next to a balcony.

“We can’t go there now,” Hange shook her head, taking note of the several men that were conversing with Frieda. A little distance away she also saw a couple of men in black that watched the perimeter. “It’d be best if we attract as little attention as possible. Let’s wait until she is alone.”

“While we’re waiting, we can—”

“No!” Hange grabbed his wrist, pulling Ackerman back to her. “We’re not going to snoop around the house until we talk with Frieda. This will be our last resort.”

If someone would catch them in the act… A shudder ran through her at the mere thought.

In her haste to stop Ackerman, she didn’t think twice about touching him. As she realized that her fingers were still wrapped around his slim wrist, Hange wanted to pull away. But just as she was meaning to let go, Ackerman took a hold of her palm, intertwining their fingers.

“If we continue staring at Frieda like that, we’ll be sticking out like a sore thumb. We have to mix with the crowd.” Hange felt her stomach drop. She was almost certain what his next words would be. And she didn’t like it. “We can go and mingle with the guests…”

And possibly risk exposing themselves and alerting every one of their true intentions in the process.

“Or…” Ackerman had his gaze focused on the center of the room, where a dozen or so couples were spinning around in tact with the music. “How about we take it to the dancefloor, detective?”

Logically, Hange knew that it was a good idea. If they go dancing, they wouldn’t attract much attention and they would be able to discreetly track Frieda’s movements. But from a personal standpoint… she couldn’t imagine a prospect that was more undesirable to her.

She swallowed, accepting her fate. The logical part of her won.

“Let’s do this,” she pulled Ackerman closer, approaching the dancefloor like she was marching to war.

Once they were there, surrounded by laughing, happy couples, she put her hand on the small of his back, her other clasping his palm. His suit was soft under her touch, his warmth radiating through the fabric. His hand was rough and calloused, but his grip was gentle, feather light.

“Be careful”, Erwin had said to her last night, his blue eyes boring into hers with intensity that was so rarely aimed at her, “you’re playing with fire.”

She scoffed at his dramatics last night, but now she could almost feel the flames, licking at her feet. They grew bigger, hotter as she looked into Ackerman’s eyes. They were the color of the stormy sky, dangerous and beautiful. Mesmerizing.

“The music choice is awful,” she complained with feigned discontent, a vain attempt to distract herself from the effect that bastard had on her. “This song is probably older than I am.”

“But it’s pleasant,” Ackerman remarked.

Hange couldn’t protest. The song was pleasant. The musicians were talented too, the trombone, cellos and piano mixed together wonderfully, creating a melancholic and magnificent melody. And dancing with Ackerman, being close enough to feel his body heat, to hear his breathing, to smell his woody cologne… it was pleasant as well.

Turning away from him, Hange forced her attention on the other side of the ballroom, where Frieda was now talking with an elderly couple. Frieda was smiling, brightly and genuinely. Her smile was almost identical to Historia’s. Perhaps, it would help them win Frieda’s favor today.

“It looks like we have to continue dancing,” she spun them around, providing Ackerman with the view of their target. With nothing else to do now, Hange continued talking, hiding her uneasiness behind mindless chatter. “You are a better dancer than I thought.”

“Once Kenny decided to steal a painting from the Opera House. I had to seduce one of the dancers to get the entrance key.”

In spite of herself, Hange chuckled. “Did you succeed?”

“Let’s just say that I was much more efficient at dancing than at seducing,” he said, his lips curling up. “And you? Where do detectives learn how to dance?”

“I was a member of the drama club, remember?”

Judging by Ackerman’s wide eyed look, he not only remembered about the drama club, but he was also surprised that Hange remembered talking about it.

Perhaps… she had disclosed more than she should have. Perhaps, it would have been wiser to play the drunken forgetful fool card. But before she could bath herself in mortification, Ackerman squeezed her hand a little tighter and whirled her around, compelling her to move forward.

“Frieda is alone,” he explained curtly. “We need to hurry.”

___

As it turned out, there was no need for hiding in the plain sight. Frieda was already aware of their presence.

“Hange Zoe,” as they approached, Frieda took a step forward, a sweet smile already on her lips. “My father has spoken highly about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Although, I do wonder,” her bright violet eyes glistened in the light, as she slowly looked both of them over. “What is a busy detective doing on my gala?”

“Investigating, of course,” Hange countered easily. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”

She didn’t have her trusty notebook with her, and its absence was felt keenly by her. Without it, Hange didn’t know where to put her hands. Distraughtly, she brought them behind her back, wringing them slightly. Her wrist was discreetly slapped not a second later.

Startled and confused, she threw a brief look at Ackerman. He was staring back at her, ‘don’t act so skittish’, his eyes seemed to tell her. Hange scoffed and kicked his foot. As if she didn’t know that already.

“You can ask your questions,” Frieda replied. “But I fail to see how my answers can help you find that missing girl of yours.”

“Ah, so you’re aware of my case? And Krista Lenz’s disappearance?”

“Perhaps, you’re also aware that Krista isn’t her real name,” Ackerman added.

There was a slight pause, a beat of silence that excited Hange. Did they manage to catch Frieda off guard so easily? But a moment has passed, and her composure returned. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze filling with suspicion, as she stared Ackerman down.

“My father failed to mention that you have a partner, detective Zoe. Didn’t you use to work alone?”

Ha! Hange thought. Frieda had to do a little better than that to keep her on her toes.

“This investigation is complicated, I need all the help I can get. And, Miss Reiss,” she held Frieda’s gaze, slowly curling her lips in a smile. “You haven’t answered our question. Do you know that Krista Lenz isn’t the girl’s actual name? Do you know that her real name is,” Hange paused, sharing with Ackerman a look full of anticipation. “Historia Reiss, which would make her…”

“Your sister,” Ackerman finished.

They’ve got her, Hange could feel it. They’ve laid all of their cards, now they just needed to give a final push and Frieda would crack. She could see those cracks already, appearing on her beautiful face.

Hold on, Historia, I’m coming for you

“If you know something about her disappearance, we’d be happy to—”

“No.” Frieda said, cutting Hange off.

“Huh?” Hange’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop after the sudden interruption. “No as if—”

“No as if I won’t help you. No as if I have no idea what you’re talking. No,” Frieda’s eyes flashed menacingly, as she stepped closer to Hange, “as if I don’t have time for this. No as if leave my house before I call security on you.”

“Wait a minute, I—”

“Hange,” Ackerman had his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her away from Frieda. “No means no. Let’s go before we get into trouble.”

Hange let him take her away. She wasn’t ecstatic about their plan B, but she knew now that they had no other choice. If Frieda didn’t want to share the information willingly… they would take the information from her.

“Thank you for your time and enjoy your evening.” She told Frieda, before they disappeared back into the crowd.

___

With her hand securely grasped in his, Ackerman led her forward, effortlessly moving through small groups of people. He kept his head straight and his expression seemed nearly relaxed, but Hange could see the subtle movements of his eyes. He slowly swiped his gaze from one side of the room to another, noting a hundred different things, no doubt.

“You’ve studied the blueprints, right?” he asked in a voice no louder than a breath.

Hange nodded, an image of the map materializing in front of her eyes. If they were in the center of the house, then—

“We need to get to the left wing, Frieda’s room is at the end of the hallway.”

If Ymir’s map was correct. If no one would see them enter another – probably, locked - part of the building. If they wouldn’t get—

“Relax,” Ackerman gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It will be fine.”

“But what if we will—”

“We won’t.” He calmly promised. “I won’t allow it. I’ll keep us safe, trust me.”

“I trust you,” she said. She didn’t add ‘to keep us safe’. Ackerman seemed to take note of that.

“Did you tell your boss about our plan?”

Did she tell Erwin? Of course, she did not. After a stern talking off she had received last night, she thought it was for the best if she didn’t share the details of their wonderful plan that involved breaking inside Reiss’ manor.

“I forgot to mention it last night.”

“What did—” Hange knew what he wanted to ask. But, perhaps, Ackerman wasn’t ready to hear her answer yet. She could relate with him on that. Hange also hadn’t been ready for everything Erwin had said to her. But she had no other choice. “Never mind, let’s focus on the plan.”

It was hard to do as he said, when Ackerman’s thumb kept brushing her knuckles with enough gentleness to make her weak in knees. Hange wasn’t sure if he was even aware of what he was doing, but her heart noticed, and now it was performing cart-wheels in her ribcage. This whole horseshit with feeling was starting to get really fucking annoying.

Hange yanked her hand out of his grasp with a loud huff. Ignoring Ackerman’s bewildered gaze, she continued moving through the crowd, evading dancing couples and laughing guests. Ackerman was at her heels, following her just a breath away. Even so, with their distance so miniscule, she felt so much better and calmer now.

But not for long. As soon as they approached the entrance, leading to the hallway, Ackerman wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her flush against him.

“Play along,” he whispered, before walking up to the two guards. “I’m sorry, but where is the bathroom? You see, my date here had a little too much champagne…”

He spoke so smoothly and confidently, going as much as adding a touch of caring to his voice. Hange wouldn’t let him best her at this, she was a member of the drama club for fuck's sake. She leaned heavily against Ackerman, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Feeling him froze and his heartbeat pick up was the most delightful thing that happened to her the entire evening.

It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one who had her body rebel against her mind.

The guard guided them to a door on the other side of the stairs, and Ackerman thanked him and started dragging her towards it. Hange giggled, when she heard him let out a quiet curse.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” he hissed, pulling another giggle out of her. Something witty and sarcastic was on the tip of her tongue, when Ackerman added, “I’ll be having my fun later.”

Huh? Before Hange could ask him to elaborate, Ackerman pushed her through the door inside the bathroom.

“Wait!” something very close to dread started to sink in her stomach. “Why are we here? Weren’t we supposed to get inside Frieda’s room?”

“Does Frieda’s room have a balcony?” Ackerman asked, ignoring her question completely.

“According to the blueprints, it does…”

“Can you find it from the outside?”

“I probably could, yes, but…”

“Excellent,” he promptly walked up to the window, opening it. “Then let’s go.”

Before Hange could protest, before she could curse him to hell and back, Ackerman lifted his leg, climbing out of the window. Hange watched him, eyes wide.

“What are you waiting for?” he urged, hanging from the windowsill. “Did you have another way to get inside her room?”

“I imagined it wouldn’t involve me jumping of the windows.”

“Don’t jump, climb out.”

Hange couldn’t fucking believe him. Don’t jump, he said as if it was a completely normal situation. Climb out, as if she knew how to do this shit.

She told Ackerman the very same thing.

“It’s easier that it looks,” he shrugged, still effortlessly hanging of the fucking window. Just how strong the bastard was? “C’mon, four-eyes, we don’t have all night. I can go alone if—”

“No.”

It was her fucking case, her investigation. And if she needed to climb out of the fucking window to finish it, then so be it.

“If I fall, I’m going to blame you,” she warned, as she threw over her leg. “Erwin will have your head for it.”

“You won’t fall,” he said. “I won’t let you.”

Hange looked him in the eyes to see if he was joking. She saw nothing but sincerity.

Fuck.

She threw her other leg over the windowsill, now hanging of it with her legs dangling in the air. She tentatively put them on a thin patch of cobblestone, testing her grounds.

Huh, it wasn’t as difficult as she had expected. The parapet underneath the window was wide for her to stand almost comfortably.

“Good thing Ymir got you a suit and not a dress,” Ackerman said. “Now where to?”

“Move to the left, to the end of the wall. And…”

“Yes?”

“Go slowly, alright? In case—”

“I got you, four-eyes. Don’t worry.”

Somehow, his words actually made her feel more at ease. And as she felt the wind on her face, Hange allowed herself a little grin. It was rather exciting.

Together, they started to move.

Hange never thought she’d be scaling a fucking wall, but here she was. As she tentatively travelled from one windowsill to another, she tried to breathe as quietly and calmly as it was possible. Her arms hurt from the exertion of supporting her weight, her legs were shaking and every time she caught the glimpse of the ground underneath, her excitement faded and her panic grew, closing up her throat and sending her insides flying. What made the whole ordeal just a little more unbearable were Ackerman and the way he easily performed his every move, calm and controlled. Hange would have snapped at him, if she wasn’t so afraid that opening her mouth would send her plummeting to her death.

“You won’t die if you fall down,” Ackerman said, possibly sensing her mental state. Or catching sight of her wide, terrified eyes and trembling hands. “You’ll just break your legs and arms and possibly injure your spine.”

Was it his attempt at giving comfort? He sucked at it.

“Just shut up,” she gritted through her teeth. Thank god this part of the building had no lights on. Hange didn’t even want to think what would have happened if someone saw them. Falling to her death didn’t seem that grave of a prospect compared to it.

Only a couple of windows stood between them and the balcony in Frieda’s room. Hange eternally thanked all the times Mike dragged her out the office and into a gym. Thanks to his insistence, her brain didn’t splatter across the pavement.

Hange released a sigh of pure relief, when she saw Ackerman reach the railing of the balcony and swing his legs over it.

The experience wasn't completely awful, Hange even enjoyed the surge of adrenaline and the wind gushing through her hair, but still... thank fuck, this nightmare was almost over.

But just as she had lifted her hand to touch the metal bar of the railing, her right foot slipped, missing the next cobblestone. She cried out, as her arms flared up, desperately trying to get a hold of something stable enough to support all of her weight. But the railing was still out of her reach, her other leg buckled under her, and Hange felt her heart stop, as she dangled from the wall, holding onto it with one trembling hand.

Her fingers were sliding down, slowly but surely. Hange closed her eyes, preparing for the fall.

But it never came.

Just as she started to descend, her arm was grasped, roughly yanking her upwards. Hange shot her head up, meeting the steel grey eyes. They were opened wide – worried, frightened.

“I’ve got you,” Levi husked, his voice thick with panic. “Hange, I’ve got you.”

He was craning over the railing, his upper body hanging of it. But despite the danger he was facing, he hold onto her tightly, grunting as he started to lift her up.

Hange did her best to assist him, grabbing the metal bar as soon as it was close enough. Even then, when she had it secured with a white-knuckled clasp, Ackerman didn’t let go of her hand.

With the last bit of effort, he got her out, flinging her over the railing and to the balcony marble floor.

Oxygen was able to enter her lungs only after Hange felt the ground beneath her body. Despite the precarious situation, her landing was not painful at all. It was rather soft, and Hange almost marveled at it out loud.

But then she finally made sense of her surroundings. She didn’t fall onto the ground. She fell on Ackerman.

This was starting to become a pattern.

Shocked and overwhelmed, Hange knew only one way to let out her emotions. She started laughing, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, sounding as shaken as she was feeling.

Still laughing like crazy, Hange gave him a nod, rolling off him. “Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing her sweaty bangs from her face. “I didn’t mean to— well, you know.”

“You didn’t want to paint that lovely patch of ground with your blood? Good to know, four-eyes, I was starting to get worried.”

“Asshole,” despite herself, she snickered again. Jesus, she almost fucking died. But she didn’t, because of Ackerman. “Thank you, by the way. If it weren’t for you—”

“You’d be a mess, and you know how much I hate it,” he said, curling his lips up in a slight smile. It suited him, that smile. Hange almost reached towards him—

Perhaps, she had hit her head after all.

She turned away, getting to her knees. Her legs were still shaking, but she managed to get up. As soon as she was up, Ackerman appeared beside her. He took out the knife that was strapped to his calf and approached the balcony door. It was a tall glass door that consisted of two parts. Naturally, it was closed. Ackerman kneeled before it and with a move so swift Hange almost didn’t catch it, drove the knife in the slit between two parts of the door, moving it upwards until he heard a click. The door was opened in the next moment.

“Ready to find out what Lady Reiss is hiding?”

“As ready as ever,” Hange muttered, following Ackerman inside.

Frieda’s room looked exactly as Hange had expected the room of a rich heiress to look like. It was spacious, with high ceilings and tall windows that were partially covered by heavy green curtains. A large oak desk stood near the entrance to the balcony and next to it was an easel. The easel was enclosed by a white cloth.

Curious, Hange took it off, revealing an unfinished painting. Despite the drawing being nothing more than a rough sketch, that bright smile and big eyes were easily recognizable.

And Frieda had the gall to claim that she didn’t know Historia. Now they had a proof it was a lie. Well, she could continue lying all she wanted. Hange was going to uncover all of her secrets anyway.

“Go over her papers,” Ackerman said, taking a seat at Frieda’s desk. “I’ll see what she has in her computer.”

“What if it’s protected by a password?”

“That’s why I’ll be taking care of it. Unless… you know how to hack into computer?”

“You know how to hack into computer?” Hange asked incredulously.

“I’m a thief that police couldn’t catch for years, remember? A computer is nothing for me.”

Of course, of course, how could Hange forget that Ackerman was also a little cocky shit? However…

“I almost caught you,” she noted, matter-of-factly.

“You tricked us.”

“Traute tricked you. I merely asked her to do it.”

“That still counts as cheating.”

Cheating, Hange rolled her eyes. As if their game had any rules. As if it was a game at all.

“Where is Traute now, by the way?” Ackerman cautiously asked. “Is she…”

“She is alive, if that’s what you’re worried about. And in prison, serving her time. After she found out that your uncle is still free, she was more than happy for the opportunity to hide.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad she is well.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Had she not only failed to apprehend Ackermans but inadvertently caused the death of another person, Hange wouldn’t know what to do with herself after that giant of a fuck up. She wouldn’t know how to continue working after that. She wouldn’t know how to look in the mirror. She—

She shook her head, getting rid of these thoughts. Traute was alive and well, paying for her crimes in the safety of prison walls. She had a more pressing matter on her hands right now.

With moonlight serving as her lamp, Hange shifted through a pile of documents, official letters and sketches, all done by Frieda’s skillful hand. She carefully studied each piece of paper, hoping to find some kind of a clue.

She wasn’t that lucky.

And as she looked through page after meaningless page, her eyes started to wander. To the painting on the wall, to the beautifully decorated wardrobe, to the man sitting next to her – to his face, illuminated by a pale blue light of the computer screen, to his eyes that swiftly moved from side to side, to his mouth that was slightly opened in concentration.

Hange cursed under her breath, averting her gaze before Ackerman could catch her in the act.

“Also I’m not sure if you’re aware,” she began, feigningly detachment. “But leaving stupid notes on the scene of crimes isn’t the best course of action for a thief.”

“What?” he looked up, meeting her eyes.

“The notes,” Hange repeated. “The ones I found after every heist.”

“Ah, that. It was funny.”

“Funny?!”

What the fuck?

“It pissed you off. Watching you run around and curse was hilarious.”

Ackerman had sure enjoyed himself in those moments, if his fond tone of voice was anything to go by. Which made Hange so angry, but also made her wonder…

“Wait, you’ve seen me doing all of that? How?”

Ackerman turned his eyes back to the computer screen. His lips were pressed in a tight line before he mumbled, “Sometimes I stayed behind and watched.”

“You— what? Why? When? How I haven’t noticed?”

“No one notices the janitor.”

Hange stared at him in shock. Perhaps, Ackerman truly had a reason to feel gleeful. How could she not notice him? She should have noticed an attractive janitor, shouldn’t she? But then again, Hange always had a tunnel sort of vision, while she was at work.

“Anyway, that was very shitty of you,” she concluded, returning to the papers. “Mocking me like that…”

“I didn’t mock. I teased.”

“Isn’t that same thing?”

“Not quite.”

Hange scoffed and rolled her eyes. She never knew that banter could be so frustrating. Usually she was the one who infuriated other people. But Ackerman was just as good at the back and forth. A tough opponent, that’s for sure.

“Have you found something?” she asked him, as she put the stack of papers down. She looked at them for long enough to realize that she wouldn’t find anything that might be useful for them in any way. Perhaps, her partner had a better luck.

“There is nothing here but pretentious hipster photos and email exchanges with corporate fuckers.”

Or… he didn’t.

“So…” Hange had another back plan prepared. It was just as illegal as their current one, and even more reckless. But… she had gone that far, stopping now would only squander all of their previous efforts. “Are you good at pickpocketing?”

“What?” Ackerman turned to her, his face incredulous. “Are you saying—”

“There is nothing on her desk, nothing on her computer. We have only one possibility left. We need to look through her phone.”

Something had got to be there, Hange was sure of it. Frieda knew something, had to. How else explain the unfinished painting then? And the familiarity with the case Hange was working on?

“You want me to steal her phone. Huh, you’re growing up, four-eyes.”

Ackerman looked actually impressed. Hange subdued a wave of delight she felt because of it.

“We would need to get close to Frieda again,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “And for that we need to get back to the ballroom and—”

“No scaling the walls anymore.” Hange announced resolutely. It was exciting, yes, but she had her fill of this particular exercise already. She liked her neck and her undamaged bones.

“What do you propose then?”

What indeed…

“I’ll figure something out. Just trust me, alright?”

“I trust you.”

He didn’t hesitate, Ackerman didn’t even think before he spoke. Was he telling the truth then? Did he really trust her, and so readily?

She didn’t know what to think of it.

Perhaps, she shouldn't think about it then.

You had a case you have to focus on, Hange reminded to herself.

"Let's get going then."

They moved everything to the way it was before - put the papers back into the neat piles, closed the door and turned off the computer.

Then they left the room, stepping into a dark hallway. They walked through it carefully, quietly.

Everything was going so well.

Until it wasn't.

They've heard footsteps first. Then, came the voices. And they were growing closer, headed in their direction.

Fuck, they had to do something and fast.

Hange had to do something. But only one thing came to mind. One foolish, stupid thing. It was all Hange had in that fleeting moment.

You’re playing with fire, Erwin had said. Well, Hange was ready to get burned.

___

Shit. That was the first and his only reaction to the newly arisen problem.

Someone was coming their way. Levi could see the light of flashlight just behind the corner.

They had no time to run. They had nowhere to hide. They—

"Play along," Hange hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Before he could comprehend what the fuck was going on, Hange had him pressed against the wall, her face incredibly close to his.

"It means nothing, Ackerman," she whispered, before she put her lips on his.

His heart stopped, his brain short-circuited. Hange was kissing him. Her hands were fisted in the lapels of his jacket, her lips were moving against his, her tongue slipped inside his mouth.

It was phenomenal. Fantastic, splendid, better than Levi could possibly imagine.

And at the same time, it meant nothing. Hange had said so, and who was he to argue?

It meant nothing, absolutely nothing, so he pulled her closer, put his palm onto her cheek to caress it gently. He allowed himself to linger, kept their lips connected even when the guards arrived.

“Hands up! And turn around!”

"Ah, sorry, sorry!" to Levi’s immense disappointment, Hange took a step back, a bashful grin appearing on her face. "We got carried away a little, that's so embarrassing."

She had laughed, her hand travelling down his chest. To the outside looker, they probably appeared like a madly in love couple. Nothing could be further from the truth but— Levi cherished that fleeting moment nevertheless.

The two guards that had caught them shared a look, full of incomprehension.

"This area is off limits," one of them, the taller one said. "How did you even get in here?"

"My boyfriend wanted to explore a fantasy of his... You know, there is no obstacle that can stop true love."

The expression on the guards' faces, the perfect mix of shock, confusion and disgust, was priceless. Levi could barely keep himself from laughing.

"We can't just let them go," the shorter one mumbled to his partner. "Maybe, we should take them to Miss Reiss?"

"Agreed. Let her take care of these weirdos."

The men stood behind them, pushing them forward. Catching his eye, Hange flashed him a victorious smile. Ah, so everything was going according to her plan. Good to know.

Levi leaned closer to her. "If you ever tire of being a detective," he murmured, "Think of becoming a grifter."

"Is that a compliment? Or a job offer?"

"Could be both," he shrugged and was rewarded by a quiet chuckle.

The guards led them out of the dark empty hallway of the left wing, bringing them to the bright and golden colored stairway.

"Stay here," the shorter guard instructed. "I'll bring Miss Reiss to you."

A couple of minutes later, Frieda came out to them, wearing the same sugary smile. That kind of smile was perfect for her father's campaign posters. Perhaps, that's why she had it refined it to such degree.

Still looking like a fucking fairytale princess, Frieda lifted her hand and let the guards return to their positions. The smile slipped from her face the moment the three of them were left alone.

"I told you to leave," her eyes narrowed, unmasking the anger she felt. Right now, she didn't resemble a sweet, pretty girl that was her sister. Right now, she looked exactly like her father. "Why are you still here? And what were you doing in that hallway?"

"With all due respect," Hange slightly bowed. Levi coughed to hide his snicker. "But I don't exactly kiss and tell."

Frieda seethed, color rising to her cheeks.

"I apologize for my partner," Levi put his hand on her elbow, his fingers blindly searching for his goal. He found it, and fairly quickly. Oh, how he loved dresses with pockets. Phone securely grasped in his fingers, Levi pushed it into the sleeve of his jacket. "And I apologize for our behavior. We didn't mean to cause you any harm."

He moved his hand away from Frieda, putting it inside the pocket of his pants. Once the phone was there, he gave Hange a small nod.

"Yes, it was a mistake that I hope you would forget," Hange gave Frieda a smile - a wide, radiant one.

Frieda scoffed, obviously not impressed. "You entered the private property without my knowledge or consent, I should call police." Levi tensed. That scenario was very, very unwelcome. "But my father spoke very highly of you, detective Zoe. And your Captain, Erwin Smith, is a man of great virtue. It’s because I respect both of them, I'll let you go. Just, for the love of God, leave this time."

"Already on it!" Hange exclaimed, taking Levi by the sleeve of his jacket and dragging him to the exit.

"Fucking hell," she cursed when they were a good distance away. "I thought she'd call Erwin on me. Imagine if that had happened!"

Levi did, albeit briefly. He winced as a very clear image entered his mind. Yesterday's fiasco was scary enough, he could only guess how bad it would be if he actually got Hange into some kind of trouble. Erwin would have torn his head off before Levi could say "It was her plan".

“You got the phone, right?”

“Of course, I’ve got it,” he waited until they were out of the house and fished it out, showing Hange a sparkling yellow phone case.

“Well, open it!” she urged, hovering above him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

Levi activated the screen, and, unsurprisingly, the phone requested a password.

“Do you know how old is she?”

“Twenty-seven?” Hange sounded incredibly unsure. Levi lifted his head to watch her bit her lip in concentration. The same lip he touched with his own not so long ago.

A wrong fucking train of thought, he chastised himself immediately.

“Or twenty-eight? Something like that, I’m pretty sure.”

Levi nodded and entered Frieda’s approximate birth year. It worked on a second try.

Apparently, their girl was a very busy person. She received more than a few dozen phone calls every day. However, there was one number that popped out with more frequency than the others. And usually the calls occurred after office hours.

It could be nothing. Maybe, it was Frieda’s lover. Or best friend. Or someone equally important to her. So important that she hadn’t even bothered to add their name to the phonebook.

It could be nothing. But Levi had a feeling.

Sharing a brief look with Hange, he dialed that number.

The call was answered just a second later.

“Hey, lady, weren’t you the one who told me not to call you? Or is your event for rich fuckers that boring that you decided to ditch them all and bother me?”

Levi froze in one spot, his mouth hanging open.

That voice, he could recognize in anywhere.

That voice, it belonged to Kenny.

#shout out to that anon who wrote about hange's mad skills at poker! i've included a small hint about it #the hint is miniscule but it's there because ily <3 #levihan

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hologramband · 4 years ago

Text

One Day p1

Alive!Luke x Fem!Reader Modern AU Word Count: 2.6k A/n: hehehe here’s the first part! I have it mostly planned out, there should be 3-4 parts! Lmk what you think! Summary: A shy girl is used to floating under the radar, keeping to herself most of the time, all was well until an opportunity fell into her lap, but what will these new people bring with them?

You were really good at staying right under everyone's radar at Los Feliz. You knew everyone, everyone knew you, but you didn’t have anything more than just a surface relationship with your classmates. You didn’t mind that, it was harder to get hurt this way. You got accepted to the Performing Arts High School with your ability to dance, but have always found your real talent lies within your visual art. Whether you were using paints, pencils, or a pen, you loved the way that your hand flew over the paper and created an image that represented your many different emotions.

In a way it made sense how you loved both dance and drawing, both sharing the flowing of movements to express things that words cannot. It was easier for you to express your emotions and thoughts in these mediums since social connection was hard for you. You had tried it once, really connecting with a person, but it ended up coming back and hurting you, causing you to shut down, so you weren't in a rush to try again any time soon. You floated down the hallways with ease, only having to stop at your locker to grab the remaining textbooks you need for the next few classes. While you were stopped you heard your name called from across the hallway, looking up to see Julie raising her hand in a small wave. “Hey, (y/n)! I like your top!” She came to a stop by your locker smiling. “Thanks! It was my moms, she just found this box of old clothes from when she was in school, this one just really stuck out to me.” You smiled down at yourself and looked back up at the girl to see three boys approaching. You felt heat subtly rise to your cheeks and you tried to focus your eyes on Julie. “Hey Jules, you ready to go to class?” Luke spoke as soon as they reached her side, sending you a nod of acknowledgement when he noticed you standing in front of them. Alex and Reggie both raised their hands with small waves in greeting to you. You smiled in return and turned back to close your locker, swinging your backpack on in the process. “Well, I gotta get to class too, see ya around.” You smiled back at the group and heard Julie call after you. “See you in Art!” You turned slightly and waved in return. Julie and you were pretty decent friends, you talked to her more than anyone else at the school, she had a good balance of how to get to know you without pushing you. You had met the boys a few times in passing, much like the previous occurrence, them not really speaking much more than a ‘hello’ here and there. There was something about Luke though, he never failed to send a storm of butterflies loose in your stomach. He probably didn’t even remember your name, but you could remember all the details of his face, not in a weird way, just in an artistic way, ya know? He had such a coolness about him, like he could totally embarrass himself but brush it off like it was nothing, like he meant to do it even. You thought you were getting better with your anxiety around people, but as soon as that boy was in front of you, it seemed as if your brain forgot how to function. You shook the boy from your thoughts as you continued through your day, classes went by like they typically do, all your general classes like math and english were in the first half of the day, the second half being taken by your dance class and then art. It was simple to say that you much preferred the second half of classes. In dance you went about as normal, running through a few routines and while wrapping up your teacher mentioned something about a new project that would be announced tomorrow. After changing you made your way to your final class where Julie had already arrived and claimed a table for the two of you. “Hi!” she smiled up at you. “Hi! How were your classes today?” You replied, starting a conversation that you hoped would carry throughout the class. You really did like talking with Julie, she was so sweet and really made you feel like she wanted to get to know you. The first day of class she noticed you were sitting alone and she took this as an opportunity to introduce herself, commenting on the particular band tee you had on, being able to strike up a conversation instantly. You admired her for this, the confidence she had when walking in a room was just astounding to you. The two of you went about the class in a way that you similarly would, talking about this and that while sketching away in your respective books, her only pausing to write ideas in her song notebook when an idea would hit. The class you were in didn’t have many actual assignments, just that you needed around 3 small pieces turned in periodically and one larger one for your final at the end of the semester, it made it an easy free flowing environment where there wasn’t too much pressure to stress on any one thing. Before you knew it the ding of the bell was going off overhead and you and Julie started packing up your things, she quickened her pace when she saw the boys waiting at the door for her. “You guys have practice today?” You giggled at her rushed movements. “Yeah,” she laughed as she zipped her bag closed, “Luke and I just finished up a new song too so I’m really excited to get back to the garage to figure out the music behind it.” She smiled up at you and you returned the affection. “Well don’t let me hold you up! Hope it all goes well! See you tomorrow!” You waved to the girl as she ran to the door, only pausing to throw a wave back at you. You laughed and shook your head at the girls' antics and went about your day as usual, starting your walk back home, you didn’t live too far and enjoyed the fresh air and time to recollect after the school day. After getting home you grabbed a quick snack and retreated to your room to finish a sketch that you had been working on in class today. Digging through your bag your heart rate increased when you pulled the red covered book to see the top covered in multiple stickers, this wasn’t your book, it was Julies song book, meaning she was currently in possession of your sketchbook. She must have grabbed yours on mistake when she was packing up quickly. You lightly sighed as you pulled out your phone to text her about the accidental switch-up. She replied instantly just realizing the mistake herself, then invited you over to switch them back and possibly hear some of the songs they were working on, looking for an outsider's opinion. You hesitated in saying yes, did you really need your book back that bad? Sighing, you sent back an okay and asked for an address, as nervous as you were to hang around the guys, more specifically Luke, you remembered how excited Julie was to go over the new song, the one that was probably sitting in the book you were holding in your hands. You threw on a light jacket and grabbed your backpack, for reasons unexplainable to you it just always just felt safer to walk around with a backpack on, and you were on your way to Julies. You could feel your nerves rising with each step you took towards her house, by the time you stood at the end of her driveway you felt like your heart was in your throat. “Calm down, (y/n), it’s just a little hangout to get your book back and hear a few songs, no biggie, nothing to fret about at all.” you whispered to yourself, taking one last deep breath before continuing your walk up her driveway. You had just come into view from the garage when you heard Julie calling out your name. “(Y/n)! How was your walk?” Julie ran out to meet you, now walking beside you into the garage. “It was good! You actually live closer to me than I thought, it was only like a 15 minute walk,” you smiled at her and you continued the small talk until you looked up and met eyes with the brunette guitarist. “(Y/n), these are the guys, Alex, Reggie and Luke,” she introduced them to you and you raised your hand in a wave. “Yeah, i’ve seen you guys perform before, you’re all really good!” you smiled and met each of their gazes. “Thanks! And that was all our old stuff, just wait until you hear what we have coming, um..” Luke stuttered realizing he didn’t know your name. You went to say it but Alex beat you to it. “(Y/n) you idiot,” he hit the back of Luke's head, while rolling his eyes. A blush rose to Luke’s face and he laughed it off. “I-I knew that, I-I just-” “You’re at the school for dance right?” Alex spoke again, interrupting and trying to take the attention off of the stuttering Luke. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah! I’m on a dance scholarship, so that's my main focus but my second is visual art, which reminds me,” You take your backpack off and pull out Julies song book, “here’s this!” She smiles and takes it from you. “Ugh thanks so much, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost this, Reggie can you grab her sketchbook? It’s on the piano!” Julie opened her book and smiled looking at the page. “Oh wow,” you heard Reggie mutter causing everyone to turn to him, “(y/n) this stuff is like, really good.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, you’ve never been good at accepting compliments. “Dude, boundaries!” Julie muttered reaching for the book, but Luke got to it first, taking his own turn looking through the pages. Your heart jumped when he started smiling at the pages he was flipping through, you didn’t have anything in there that you kept hidden, it was just that no one had ever gone through your work before. “You have so many different styles, this one is like a cartoon, but then the next one is like hyper realistic.” Luke looks up to make eye contact and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. Alex took the second of him being distracted to pull the book away from him and hand it back to you. “I’m sorry for them, they still haven’t figured out what it means to respect someone's privacy.” He narrowed his eyes at his two bandmates. “You know,” you opened the book in your hands to search for a particular page, “I actually have something of each of you individually. I sketched them out the night after I saw one of your guys’ gigs.” You scrunch your face in concentration, you feel everyone rush to stand behind you when you finally find it. You look around at them to take in their reactions, their eyes were all glued to the papers you were displaying in front of you, Reggies mouth falling open. “Oh! Is this why you asked for the pictures my dad took of that night?” Julie looked up at you. “Yeah, I wanted to be able to add the details of everyone's chosen instruments and get some added information on where the highlights were from the lights,” you looked at each of their faces again and made a rash decision to gently tear the pages from your book, handing them to each respective person. Each person held them gently in their hands, then looked up to you in amazement. You just shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what else to say. “Well,” you looked out the window and saw the setting sun, “I better start my walk back to my house, it’s getting dark and I wanna get back before that happens. Enjoy the pictures guys!” You smile and turn to walk away, all the band still shocked to silence. “She’s never torn a page from her book before,” you hear Julie tell the boys as you walk further down the driveway, smiling to yourself. It was true, you never pull pages from your sketchbook, not this one at least, it was the better quality of all the other ones you had. You typically just used the less expensive books for class, you go through all the pages so quickly you didn’t want to waste the one’s in your higher quality notebook for the rough sketches, but the pages that you drew the band on were in the higher quality notebook, you had taken the time to really get them right, and they turned out fantastic. Your mother had always told you to spread joy where you can, and after seeing all their faces you knew that it was only right to let them have the pages that they were looking at. You arrived home and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, there might be something there with them, an opportunity to make new friends, to open up. This idea makes you both nervous and excited, you let these thoughts and ideas later lull you to sleep. --- The next day at school you were walking to your locker when Julie caught your eye, she was waiting in her phone by your locker door. You would usually see her in passing in the mornings, but this is new. “Hey Julie, what’s up?” You greet the curly haired girl at your locker. “Hey (y/n)! Not much really, just watched to catch you this morning and run an idea past you…” She smiles and looks around her before returning her gaze back to you. “Okay? Is everything alright? You seem nervous,” you giggled at her antics and went back to putting the combination into your locker. “Yeah, yeah, I just know you take a while to open up and get close with new people, and I don’t wanna rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but the boys and I were wondering if-” She gets cut off by a yell from down the hallway. “JULIE! HAVE YOU ASKED HER YET?” You turn to see all three boys running towards you, Julie facepalming at Reggies yell. “Geez Reg, she literally just got here. There's no need to yell,” Julie rolls her eyes at them and looks back to you. “Anyways, we were wondering if you wanted to make more designs and stuff for the band, like for posters and maybe album art one day.” She smiles at you after finishing. “You-you want me to… really?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yeah! We all really like what you did with those portraits, and you’re pretty chill letting us keep them and all, we want you to be a part of our band, even if it isn’t you on stage with us, you’ll keep things looking cool.” Luke says as he leans against the lockers beside you. “Plus, then you’ll be able to hang out with us more!” Reggie pipes in. They all look at each other then back at you. “So,” Alex smiles at you, “What do ya think?” A million thoughts fly through your mind at once, they really want you to hang out with them more? They liked what you did? You looked at them all, looking back at you, and smiled. “I’d love to.”

tag list ✨

@gia-kerks @fangirlangioma

#jatp #jatp imagine #jatp luke #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #jatp luke patterson #jatp luke patterson imagine #jatp luke imagine #one day #luke patterson x fem!reader #mini series

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