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mbakuetshurisprincess · 2 years ago

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The Garden

AN: Okay wow did not expect to have this many people like the sneak peek of this fic so THANK YOU! I’ve had this account since 2018 so to anyone whose been here since then, I commend you, my writing was pretty bad back then LMAO! This is literally the longest fic I’ve ever written so that's cool. I super enjoyed this Shuri and would love to write more versions of her in the future. If you have any requests, my asks are on. If not just dm me fr fr, i love inspo. Player!Shuri may or may not be in the works, so yeah. And in all honesty I don’t know what the timing of this one is within the MCU.

Summary: Princess Shuri requests your company on a trip to “The Garden”, a secret area the two of you created as teens.

Pairing: Shuri x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drug use (weed), kissing.

Word count: 3,635

Suggested listening: Nothing Even Matters by Lauren Hill ft. D'Angelo

The soft buzzing of your kimoyo beads stirred you out of the deep sleep you were in. When the buzzing didn’t wake you immediately, the sensation was turned up and the vibration shook your wrist. You knew there was only one person who could engineer your kimoyo beads to function like that: Shuri.

Knowing that she wouldn’t stop her assault on your wrist, you sat up in bed and answered her call.

“Oh Y/N, good you’re finally awake!” Shuri stated with a slick smile as her holographic body shot up from the beads.

“When did you even have time to do that, Shuri? I’m with you always and you make sure I never take this off.” You mused as you rubbed some sleep out of your eyes.

“That’s not for you to worry about!” She flashed that smile at you again and you felt the familiar tug at your heart.

You loved her smile. It was one of your favorite things about her, and she knew it. Whenever she needed something from you like a model to test out new adaptations for the Dora Milaje’s gear or begging you to spend the night with her even though your room was less than 10 steps from hers. She would flash that smile and instantly get whatever she wanted from you.

She caught wind of the way you were looking at her and sent a wink your way. “Since you're awake, may I come in?”

“I don’t know why you insist on asking, especially when you know I never say no.” You said through a yawn. You got up out of bed and walked over to the door peeking through the wall that led to Shuri’s room.

The two of you had lived like this since you were young teens. Your mother served as Queen Ramonda’s personal guard, hand-picked by King T’Chaka until her accidental death during a routine training drill that you unfortunately witnessed. Your father, grief-struck, took his own life and it left you without anyone else in the world.

Queen Ramonda decided that for your mental health it was best to maintain as much of the reality that you knew and so at 16, you moved in with the royal family. Getting a bedroom built right next to Shuri’s that connected via a doorway. It worked out because you and Princess Shuri were already close friends; having spent childhood running around the palace walls and pestering the cooks for sweets. And spent most of adolescence obsessing over American culture and new trends together.

You and T’Challa quickly formed a sibling dynamic similar to the one he had with Shuri and he felt just as protective of you as he did of her. Your dynamic with Shuri, that was different. As young girls you both valued and enjoyed each other's company, it was often regarded that if you saw one of you, the other had to be close behind.

It wasn’t until you moved in, that the nightmares started. Reliving the memory of your mother's death every night in your dreams left you screaming in your sleep, loud enough for even Queen Mother to hear it from her chambers. But before she could get there, she always found Shuri comforting you. She could still remember the first time she found the two of you like that.

Shuri was sitting on the edge of your bed calmly speaking to you as she stroked your cheek gently. “It’s me Y/N, it's Shuri. You’re okay, you’re safe, I’m here.” The two of you couldn’t have been but 17 and 16.

When you awoke and tears sprung from your eyes, Shuri just pulled you into her and soothed you as she gently rubbed your back. When Queen Mother returned to her chambers she awoke her husband and told him that there was no need to worry about who Shuri would end up with and that Bast had been kind and blessed them with two daughters.

Now at 21 and 20, the Queen's words seemed to ring ever true. While neither of you claimed to be in a relationship, everyone in the palace (and in all of Wakanda for that matter) knew that it was more than platonic love shared between you two. Shuri had never courted anyone and neither had you, and nobody ever questioned it. You knew many people lusted after Princess Shuri but you never questioned where her loyalties lay. You were the one who was with her when she learned of her father's death and you supported her throughout the entire mourning process as you both grieved. You were each other's person no doubt about it.

Shuri hung up the call and walked into your bedroom, flopping right onto your bed. You chuckled as she snuggled deep within your covers, it was normal for her to do that, and expected that you would join her.

You scrolled through the notifications on your kimoyo beads much to Shuri’s dismay as you heard her kiss her teeth. One of her signals that she wasn’t getting the attention from you that she wanted.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You murmured as you walked towards your bed and sat down on the edge. Your tiny brown sleep shorts and matching cami shirt gave Shuri the perfect view of your back. She admired the two dimples in your back that sat just above your ass and the way that your curves fit your body just right. Her eyes trailed up your back, and your curly hair was pulled up into a pineapple for maximum convenience while you slept, giving Shuri a view of your neck. She couldn’t stand you being so close to her and not touching so she wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back into her.

You took the hint, got under the covers, and finally laid on your back staring straight up at the ceiling. Shuri’s hand snaked down to find yours and interlaced your fingers in hers. Bringing them to her mouth so she could kiss your hand.

“So, what did you have planned for today, my princess?” You asked with a light giggle as she peppered kisses all over your hand.

“I was thinking,” She said once she had finished “That we go over to the garden and spend the day there today.” She turned to face you anticipating your response.

You turned your head to face her and shot her a “Are you crazy?” look.

The garden was a secret project you, but mostly Shuri had started when you were in your final years of school. After watching the Young and Wild and Free music video, the two of you decided it couldn’t be that hard to grow your own weed here in Wakanda. You tested it all inside of a small house that had once belonged to the gardener but had been long abandoned. It only took a few months and the two of you had grown enough to harvest and test.

And test you did!

Being both of your first times the effects were immediate and apparent, but both of you enjoyed the mood it put you in. Shuri enjoyed how it allowed you to open up to her and her the same to you, many of your most vulnerable conversations were held in the garden. For a year the two of you spent damn near every weekend sneaking off into the garden to light up and talk before going on a movie marathon.

Years later and the tradition had faded. You knew Shuri still maintained the garden and used it occasionally but you only went out there when Shuri dragged you out. The last time was over a month ago and it ended with the two of you being questioned for a long time by T’Challa, insisting that of course, you two were not high. The conversation ended with T’Challa saying that the two of you were terrible liars, which only led to a giggle fit ensuing.

“Do you not remember the last time?” You demanded with a roll of your eyes “What if we get caught by Queen Mother this time?”

Shuri laughed “We are grown! Mother can only say so much, we are our own people sthandwa!”

You let out a groan in response, she knew how much you loved when she called you that.

“Come on, you know you want to come to hang out and relax with me. Do it for your princess.” She commanded with her same trademark smile.

“Fine! But Shuri, I’m not helping you roll anything! You have to do all the work since you want it so badly.” You retorted as you stood up from the bed. You walked over to your closet and looked for something to wear.

“I don’t even know why you would say that, you never roll anyway.” Shuri spoke quietly to herself with a small laugh.

“What did you say?” You called from inside the closet.

“Nothing sthandwa! Get dressed!” She called back with a smirk.

You decided on one of Shuri’s oversized hoodies (that fit you more like a normal hoodie) with a black skin-tight shirt, a pair of black leggings, and a small cross-body bag that held your film camera to wear. So the two of you started your walk down the back palace steps towards the garden. As you walked you admired Shuri’s outfit. She had recently become a fan of American tracksuits so today she wore gray sweatpants with a matching gray zip-up jacket. Under the jacket, she wore a form-fitting t-shirt that accentuated her slender slightly muscular figure. Her short curly hair was styled up as normal and you admired how this new haircut suited her face so well.

She looked edible.

As you two approached the small garden house, Shuri broke the comfortable silence that had developed.

“I’ve made some new improvements to our little getaway, I hope you like them sthandwa.” Shuri held open the door for you and you walked in.

Where once the walls were lined with movie posters and American logos from companies like Pringles, KFC, and Budweiser; they’re now covered with album sleeves from the two of your favorite records. Covers from Stevie Wonder, Lauryn Hill, and Gregory Porter all the way to recent favorites like Noname, Mavi, and Frank Ocean. You walked deeper into the room and noticed where bean bags and a couch that had seen better days once sat, a new couch (big enough to be mistaken for a bed) and a hammock installed into the ceiling now resided.

You had regarded on your last trip that the place had started to remind you of your joined teen years and Shuri being the girl she was decided that meant it was time for a rebrand.

“Shuriiii!!!!” You gushed “This is too much! When did you have the time to do all of this!?” You ran into her open arms and squeezed her tightly. Shuri smiled and wrapped her arms around you.

You pulled your head off her chest to look up at her as she spoke. “I wanted it to be a space for us again and we don’t have to just smoke here either. I moved all of the plants downstairs and created a new filtration system so it will never smell like smoke and-”

You cut her off by placing a kiss on her lips. She moved her hands to cup your face trying to deepen the kiss. She loved the taste of your lips, the way they parted to let hers in, the way your tongue always battled with hers for dominance knowing it was never a battle you were going to win.

You pulled away from the kiss, a deep red color staining your chocolate skin, she made you blush every time she kissed you and it made her proud to see how breathless she left you.

“Thank you Shuri, I really mean it.”

“You kiss me like that again, we’re not going to leave here for days.” Shuri mused as she quickly swiped her thumb across your plump bottom lip. Your deep brown eyes caught hers and her gaze held you there like that as she looked down upon you with enamored eyes.

You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and bit it lightly. You hated the way Shuri could get you like this so easily. With just a few words or a persistent look, you turned to putty in her hands. Shuri however adored you like this, the way you were so drunk on lust that you listened to every word she said and followed her directions with little pushback.

You tried to turn away and break eye contact but Shuri caught your chin before you could move. She placed a delicate kiss on your lips before speaking.

“Go sit on the couch, make yourself at home. I’m going to get everything ready, you can connect to the speakers via bluetooth; the name is Y/N.” She let go of your face and left you standing there speechless as she started rummaging through drawers looking for the materials she needed.

“Damn you Shuri.” You thought as you walked over to the square-shaped couch, pulled off your bag, took out your camera, and plopped down making yourself comfortable. You pulled up the bluetooth settings and clicked connect on the one named after you. You kicked your slippers off and tucked your feet underneath you as you figured out what album to pick. You settled instead on the “To Y/N, with love” playlist, the playlist she had made for you years ago that still received monthly updates.

Shuri chuckled as the sounds of Nothing Even Matters by Lauryn Hill rang out through the speakers. She knew how much you loved music when she made you the playlist but hadn’t anticipated how much you would listen to the playlist. When you first noticed she had updated it, you nearly fell out; loving all the new music she added.

“You’re still listening to this old thing?” Shuri asked as she plopped down next to you, she held in her hands a rolling tray, a lighter, and two mason jars filled with herbs and weed respectively, a joint tucked between her lips.

You just hummed along to the words and smiled as you sang to her.

“Now the skies could fall. Not even if my boss should call. The world it seems so very small-”

She finished the line for you.

“Cause nothing even matters, at all. See nothing even matters.”

She took the joint from between her lips and handed it to you. You took it and after examining it for a second you placed it between your lips. Shuri leaned over into your personal space and sparked the lighter bringing it up to the joint and lighting it. You gazed at Shuri through the fire and felt a similar feeling inside of your gut as the two of you made eye contact. You pulled in deeply, allowing the smoke that was invading your mouth to travel directly to your lungs. Shuri pulled the lighter away when she was sure the joint would stay lit but didn’t break eye contact. You couldn’t handle the way she was looking at you, desire plain across her face so you pulled away as you removed the joint from your mouth, turned your head away, and exhaled. Releasing all the smoke in your lungs.

This caused Shuri to smirk, you were always so innocent, she could read you like a book. The way your thighs squeezed together when she held her hand on them for too long or the way you could never hold eye contact. She knew what she did to you and was fully planning to keep it up.

Shuri pulled a paper out of the pack she had and started opening the mason jars that contained her herbs. A comfortable silence had developed between the two of you, as you hit the joint and you both hummed along to Montego Bae by Noname. Shuri was the first to break the silence.

“One of your children asked me when me and you were going to be “princesses together?” when I stopped down to visit yesterday.”

You looked over at Shuri and let out a large laugh “What?”

You knew generally what Shuri was referring to; the orphanage that you volunteered in part-time was located just outside of the palace walls. Queen Mother thought it best for you to have something to occupy your time since Shuri spent large chunks of time in her lab and time away from each other was the key to a healthy relationship. The idea to work in the orphanage came to you after you spent the afternoon with the children, taking photos for the local newspaper. You came that first day and had never left; it made you feel good to help the children, knowing Queen Mother was the only reason you didn’t end up there.

“Mhm.” Shuri nodded, you noticed her hands that were beginning the careful process of rolling. This part always made you admire Shuri, her attention to detail and meticulous technique was a work of art. She looked so beautiful concentrating like that, you reached into your bag, grabbed your camera, and snapped a photo of her.

“It was Adah wasn't it?” You asked with a chuckle as you tucked your camera next to you.

While Shuri didn’t visit the orphanage with you frequently, whenever she did the first person to greet her was Adah. When Shuri wasn’t there Adah normally clung to your side during your daily work and generally kept quiet; preferring to see how the other kids played than actually playing herself. But when Shuri turned up, another side of Adah came out and she shed her shy exterior. Running around, dragging Shuri to and from activities and crafts, determined to show the princess a good time.

The whole of Wakanda was aware of your special relationship with Shuri, the children included. The difference between the two was that children didn’t have the social politeness to know not to ask about when the two of you were going to make it official, official.

Shuri just nodded as she brought her tongue to the paper, swiping it across to dampen the paper. She knew your eyes were following her tongue but let you slide this time without a sly remark. She finished rolling the joint and placed it on the coffee table.

You took another hit, feeling the effects of this new strain throughout your whole body before passing it to Shuri

“I keep telling them they can’t just ask when someone’s getting married.” You said with a playful kiss of your teeth.

Shuri took a deep pull of the joint and looked over at you. “I told her that we would be married within the next three years.”

“You said WHAT?” You shot up straight off of the couch and stood in front of Shuri. “You told my Adah we were to be married within the next three WHAT?”

Shuri simply laughed and took another hit of the joint. “I don’t see a problem with what I said sthandwa. We will be married within the next three years, no?”

“Have the chemicals that you deal with in the lab finally knocked something lose up there??” You playfully tapped on the side of her forehead with your fingers.

“Aht-” Shuri swatted your hand away with her free hand, and she took another hit. “I don’t get what's so wrong with what I said, we will be married within the next three years and have kids within the next five years. What's so insane about what I said?”

“Oh, you’ve lost your GODDAMN MIND Shuri Udaku!” You threw your hands up in disbelief and turned to walk away from Shuri.

“She must have lost it!” You thought to yourself. “Before she asks me to be her girlfriend she declares me her wife?” Truthfully you didn’t have a problem with marrying Shuri, that wasn’t the problem. But to have her declare so matter of factly without consulting you, that gave you a little bit of irritation.

Shuri used the opportunity of your back turning slightly to her as you walked away to grab one of your arms, pulling you closer and forcing you off balance. She used her newfound leverage to pull you into her lap, putting you face to face with her. Her free hand found its way to the top of your thigh and she rubbed lightly sending butterflies throughout your body. You were used to being in this position, it was one of Shuri’s favorites. She said it gave her a perfect view of your beautiful face while still satisfying her need for physical touch.

“Do you not want to be my wife sthandwa?” Shuri asked in a sultry voice, bringing the end of the joint to your lips allowing you to take the last hit.

You turned your head away from her to not release the smoke into her face, but even once you finished you kept your eyes from hers. It was all too much right now, the weed, the way Shuri switched her tone of voice and her hand that was gently rubbing the top of your thigh. Too much to be able to focus on this conversation right now.

Shuri placed the finished joint on the coffee table and grabbed your chin with her first three fingers, allowing her thumb to rest on your cheek and stroke it gently.

“Look at me.”

You obliged her request and made eye contact with the princess, her brown eyes were low and addicting to stare at.

“Be my wife Y/N.”

#black panther #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #black panther fandom #black panther fic #shuri udaku #shuri imagine #shuri black panther #shuri x y/n #shuri fluff #shuri x reader #marvel #jc writes

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 3 years ago

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Coffee Shop Kisses

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Request: something soft with Yelena from @bright-molina

Summary: After moving back to her small Ohio hometown, the reader bumps into an old friend at her favorite coffee shop.

Warnings: none ?

A/N: Happy incredibly belated Birthday Bianca!!! Sorry this took so long for me to write but I really hope you like it!! This fic has everything: the gays, some light pinning, and chai lattes !

Masterlist

___

You couldn’t believe you were back in your small Ohio hometown. When you moved away after high school it was never your intention to come back but clearly, fate didn’t have the same plans as you drove through your childhood neighborhood.

It was nostalgic, driving through the familiar streets despite the changes in the neighborhood since your childhood. While the houses had mostly remained the same, you knew many of their occupants had changed. The Browns no longer lived in the house two doors down from yours, having retired to Florida not long after their children had moved out, and many other family’s you’d known growing up had followed suit. Others had downsized to smaller houses in other parts of the city, no longer needing the extra space. Now the neighborhood was filled with new families, young parents taking advantage of the location to raise their children.

Still, the atmosphere was largely the same, and if you let yourself you could almost imagine that the kids playing in the front yards and the street or biking through the neighborhood, calling out to friends as they passed, were the kids you’d grown up with.

It was strange, being back home. It felt stranger still to call it “home.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a routine, despite the lingering nostalgia. You woke up every morning with just enough time to get ready and drive downtown to work, if you were lucky you’d end up with a few extra minutes to stop into your favorite coffee shop from your teenage years, which was conveniently located a couple doors down from your office. It was simple, sure, but it worked for you.

On the weekends you always made a point to walk to that downtown coffee shop with a book or some other activity, preferring the ambiance and the subtle noise of the building and its other patrons over the still silence of your house. Plus they had amazing drinks so you really couldn’t lose.

Normally you enjoyed taking in the hustle and bustle of the small town around you as people completed their weekly errands, but that day you were lost in your head as you walked along the sidewalk. It wasn’t as if you were thinking about anything in particular (when reflecting back later you’d merely blame it on having had a long week at work), but rather than enjoy the people watching as you normally would, you let them all pass you by without a single glance, all the way down the street and into the line at your coffee shop. You ordered your usual without much fanfare, still having the presence of mind to drop your change into the tip jar on the counter. It wasn’t until you had gotten your drink that you were thrust out of your thoughts, quite literally.

You had only just turned around from the counter, about to start scanning the cafe for a seat when you were knocked to the ground, your drink spilling in your hands.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Disoriented and still in a haze, the thick Russian accent of the woman who had spoken caught your attention.

A hand reached down into your line of sight and you took it gratefully, managing to keep the pitiful drops of unspilled chai latte in your cup as you were pulled to your feet.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” she offered though you barely heard her.

Now that you were back on your feet you got a better look at the woman who had bumped into you. She was of average height and had her blonde hair pulled into a double ponytail. You didn’t know any Russians but you could’ve sworn you’d met before.

“Do I know you?” You blurted out before you could think and the other woman blinked at you in surprise, brows lifting slightly.

“Perhaps,” she shrugged, “I used to live around here when I was younger.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, certain you would’ve remembered growing up alongside a Russian family, everyone you remembered was as American as they come. It was a small town in Ohio, after all.

“So did I,” you spoke slowly, still trying to ponder it out in your head. “Over on Brown.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, now scrutinizing you as well.

“I grew up on State Street.”

That’s when it clicked for you. You remembered them; family of four, two daughters. Natasha used to ride her bike down your street all the time which meant the woman in front of you must be…

“Yelena?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, holy shit! Your sister rode her bike through my mom’s flowers one time by accident, pissed her off for the whole summer. Plus, we went to preschool together.”

“Wait, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“In the flesh,” you replied, spreading your arms out dramatically.

Yelena took that as an invitation to really study you then, eyes flitting up and down as she fully took you in.

“You grew up quite nicely,” she spoke, tone appreciative and you found yourself blushing.

“I- I could say the same thing about you,” you stumbled over your words, feeling flustered. “I don’t remember you being Russian.”

You mentally cursed yourself for once again blurting something out before you could even think about it.

Yelena laughed at that and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sound. She had a cute laugh. It was fitting.

“Yes, well, my ‘family' and I were actually part of a Russian spy organization, sent to infiltrate a nearby SHIELD facility for some information, so,” she shrugged and you laughed at first, assuming she was joking before you realized she wasn’t laughing along.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Why would I lie?”

You fumbled around with your words at that, unable to come up with a proper response but feeling as though you needed to say something anyway.

“How about I buy you a drink and you tell me about it?” You finally settled on saying and Yelena’s brows lifted again in surprise.

“Sure, but I’m buying the drinks. I owe you for spilling your first one.”

You nodded in agreement, somehow having forgotten all about your spilled drink in the excitement of reconnecting with an old friend. An old friend who was very attractive, if you were being fully honest with yourself.

With new drinks ordered and retrieved, the two of you made your way to a small table by the front window of the cafe. True to your agreement, Yelena explained to you that her “family” when she’d lived in Ohio wasn’t actually her family at all, the entire thing fabricated for their mission, and that after their success she continued to work for the organization before finally getting out as an adult. She skimmed on a lot of the details but you got the sense that the entire ordeal was traumatic for her so you didn’t press. Though, you were quite amazed that the woman across from you (and the tiny blonde girl you’d played dolls with as a kid) was a former spy and assassin. In comparison, your own life story was much less exciting, though you guessed it also held much less trauma as well. Still, Yelena asked and she listened intently as you explained how you’d wound up back in your hometown all these years later.

After that, the conversation seemed to flow seamlessly from one topic to another, and it was so nice to talk to a friend and catch up that you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you went to take a sip from your long-forgotten chai and found it ice cold. You checked your phone and were surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed and while you were planning on spending much longer at the cafe anyway, it still caught you off guard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something?” Yelena asked, having noticed you checking the time.

“No!” You rushed to reassure her before flushing slightly at the knee-jerk reaction. “No, I just hadn’t realized how much time has passed. It’s been really nice to see you.”

“It’s been nice to see you too, perhaps we can do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You tried to fight the heat that you felt rushing to your cheeks once more. You weren’t sure if she meant it the same way you did.

“Me too,” she replied softly, ducking her head so that her face was out of view. “I actually do have to get going but maybe we can meet here again next week?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, trying not to seem too eager and failing miserably. “It’s a date.”

Once again the words slipped out on their own accord and you were left scrambling to do damage control.

“I- I mean like, y’know-”

“A date is good,” Yelena cut you off with a smirk, though you could’ve sworn you could see your own nerves reflected in her eyes.

“A date then,” you agreed, flashing a nervous smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” She stood from her chair with a smile, pausing on her way to the door to press a quick peck to your cheek, and then she was gone.

You sat there, still as a statue, for quite some time afterward, your fingertips lightly grazing over where Yelena’s lips had been moments before. You really loved this coffee shop.

#yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova fic #black widow #mcu #mcu fic #black widow movie #erin takes requests #bianca my love #erin writes

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

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Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years ago

Text

In the Garden || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

hello babes! Something a little different today-- I didn’t have time to write a request that I was going to be pleased with, so this is something that’s been sitting in my drive for a while. Hope you like it!

Submit requests here!

contains: sexual innuendo, gun mention

wordcount: 2.4k

You can’t remember the last time you wore a dress, much less a gown like the one JJ was zipping you into now-- dresses weren’t practical for field work with the BAU, and even when you’d worked in the counterterrorism unit, you’d much preferred a professional blouse and pair of slacks. But the First Lady had decided to throw a ball in the White House to celebrate federal employees, and the Bureau was receiving an award, which the Director had hand-picked the BAU to accept. So, gown. Even though you’d much prefer to be changing into a pair of sweats-- you had been called on a case two days before the ball, and Garcia saved the day by running to everyone’s apartments and grabbing their nice clothes so you all wouldn’t be late. Which is how you found yourself squeezing into a sleek off the shoulder number in the Batcave, with Emily batting at your face with a makeup brush and JJ tugging at your zipper.

“Babe, you look hot.” Penelope says as Emily and JJ step away from you, admiring their work.

“All Emily’s work,” you deflected with a shy smile.

“We’ll have that fight when we’re not running late,” Emily said, pulling you out of Garcia’s office, she and JJ not far behind.

Derek let out a wolf whistle when he saw you all approaching, and you heard JJ’s windchime laugh from a few steps behind.

“Hello ladies,” he said with an exaggerated leer.

“Derek Morgan, you’re lucky that my thigh holster doesn’t go with this dress.” Emily spits out, and all of you burst out in laughter.

“Chocolate thunder, you clean up good,” Garcia says, crossing to Derek, who moved to put his arm around her shoulders as Reid emerged into the bullpen.

“Speaking of cleaning up good,” JJ says with a small smile, and you catch Reid blushing.

“Did you know that balls like this can cost American taxpayers up to a million dollars?” He asks the group, and you smile.

“Maybe don’t mention that when the first lady gives us the award, yeah Spence?” You tease, and he treats you to a little chuckle.

You hear Hotch before you turn to see him and Rossi. “Alright, let’s go,” He says, leading the group out of the BAU and towards your SUVs. You end up in the passenger seat of the car Rossi is driving.

“You doing okay, kid? You’re awful quiet this evening. Invitations to Federal Government Prom don’t come often, you know.” He smirks, and you half-ass a smile in return.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Rossi. Just tired, you know. Would have preferred to get a night’s sleep in my own bed before we did this, you know?”

He nods, but there’s no use in lying to a profiler.

The food, you have to admit, is leagues better than the instant ramen you would have cooked up if you had gone home tonight. And the conversation isn’t half bad either, you admit to yourself as you lazily flirt with Paul, a junior fellow from the Department of Health and Human Services, just barely putting in enough effort to seem interested while allowing your mind to wander.

The sensation of a warm hand in between your exposed shoulder blades distracts you from your train of thought.

“Excuse me,” Aaron’s deep baritone interrupts Paul’s nervous tenor. “I’d like to cut in for a dance, if you don’t mind.”

Paul sputters, and you laugh, because you know that Aaron was asking you, not this early-thirties politico type that he towered over, both physically and morally.

“We’ll catch up later?” you said to Paul, with absolutely no intent to catch up later, before Aaron led you out to the dance floor.

“Hotch, I’m gonna step on your feet.” You warned.

“No you won’t,” he assures you. “Follow my lead.”

You do as you’re told, and you’re surprised to realize just how easy it is to follow him, anywhere.

“Aaron Hotchner, when on Earth did you learn to ballroom dance?” You asked incredulously.

“Boarding school,” He answers with an easy smile.

“You’re joking,” you accuse.

“Ah, yes, something I’m known to do.”

“You remain a mystery, Hotchner.” You tell him.

“I don’t know. That might have been my last secret.”

You roll your eyes, content to continue dancing, and finding yourself getting distracted again.

“What are you thinking about?” Aaron asks, and you mentally curse yourself for letting your guard down in front of your boss.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. But really grateful to be here, of course, and--”

“I wasn’t asking as your boss, you can stand down,” He smirks, dipping you quickly and it takes your breath away. “You’re thinking of leaving.” He says as he lifts you back up, and it’s not a question.

“How did you-- I can’t believe-- Damn profilers.” You harrumphed.

“You’ve been distant, the past couple weeks. You’re in your early twenties accepting an award at the White House, by all accounts you should be ecstatic. That’s when I knew something was wrong. And when I saw you with Peter, or whatever his name was, who you couldn’t be less interested in, that’s when I knew it was us.”

“See, and that’s exactly why I need to leave. Because I’ll never be able to do that.” You tell him, finally looking him in the eye.

“You will,” He says in a self-assured tone that does nothing to assuage your anxiety.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“I do.”

“Maybe I’m not good enough, Hotch.” You confess carelessly. He’s already figured you out. Might as well fess up to your deepest insecurities while your boss holds you and stares you down with his deep brown eyes in the middle of the East Room.

“You are,” he says in that same tone, that you’re sure is supposed to be calming but is only infuriating.

“But maybe I’m not! Maybe I’m one of those people who always wanted to do it, who always wanted to be an agent, but it’s like a pipe dream for me. I don’t contribute to the team the same way everyone else does. I don’t pick up on the things that seem so obvious to all of you, and it sucks. I can still do good work, but you know-- you change your dreams and you grow up. Maybe I’m one of those people and I’m just not supposed to be here. I just can’t stay knowing that I’m not supposed to be here-- I have to leave.” You’re not even sure if your soliloquy makes any sense, but Aaron pulls you a little closer, so he can speak the next few words lowly, directly into your ear.

“You’ve been here eight months. It takes time. You are an incredible agent, and an asset to this team. I don’t need another profiler that sees the same things we all see-- I need you, and your observations, the things we missed-- those are the things that solve cases. I can’t-- I can’t allow you to change your dream. I can’t let you leave. I need you here.”

You let his words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks again.

“The, uh-- the team needs you. We all need you, and your observations, is what I meant.” He stammers.

“Hotch?’ You ask, confused by the sudden change in tone.

“Do you want to go get some fresh air? Get away from the crowd?” He asks, pulling away to look at you, and there’s an invitation in his eyes. Maybe a more seasoned profiler would know exactly what it was, but you were excited to find out nonetheless.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

You’re certain that you’re breaking some sort of law as Hotch pulls you out of the ballroom and down a hallway, his fingers interlocked with yours. You try not to think about it too much. Your heels click against the marble floors as you follow Aaron’s brisk pace, and eventually he finds a door outside, opening it up and allowing you to pass through it first. It takes a minute to place yourself, especially under the cover of night, but after a moment you realize you’re in the rose garden.

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” You say under your breath with a little laugh as you look out over the sprawling display of flowers and plants.

“It definitely beats the Quantico courtyard,” Aaron agrees.

“Never thought I’d make it there, either.” You confess, not looking at him.

“But you did. It wasn’t meant to be easy, but you made it, and you’ll grow. You just need time.” He tells you.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask, feeling your eyes well up.

“I was young once, too.” He tells you with a self-deprecating grin.

“You can’t play up the wise, ancient elder with me, Hotch. I’ve seen you chase Jack across a soccer field like you’re still in your twenties.” You laugh, but he can hear the emotions behind it.

“Hey, come on, I mean it. I’m not Rossi, but I’ve got my fair dose of wisdom to share,” he says, moving closer to you and placing a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Let’s keep dancing. If you want to talk, you can talk. But you thought you couldn’t dance, and you could dance, right? So we can keep doing that until you believe me.” He said, pulling your hand up in his and placing his other on your waist.

The two of you moved slowly, the orchestra from inside only barely audible from where you were standing. With Hotch’s bad ear, he could really only hear it when his body was angled just right in the direction of the East Room, but somehow he had perfect rhythm regardless. You move in silence for a song or two or three before Hotch speaks up again.

“I lied to you, earlier.” He confesses, still guiding you effortlessly through a simple waltz.

“How do you mean?” You ask, suddenly nervous that you were right, that you’re a complete failure of an agent, and that you need to pack your bags and head on back to Kansas.

“I lied when I said that I’d told you my last secret.”

“Oh,” you said, too caught up in your own head to try to understand what he was saying.

“And I lied when I told you that I meant the team needed you--” you felt that bone-crushing weight on your soul again-- “we do, of course, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Hotchner, what are you talking about?” You finally asked, no longer able to tolerate the emotional whiplash of his conversation.

“When I said I needed you, I meant it.”

“Oh,” you say, your face a portrait of shock and confusion, even though you understood him completely.

“That’s selfish of me as a person, and wrong of me as your superior, and maybe that means that I’m outing myself as the kind of fucked-up person that isn’t worth another second of your time, but I needed you to know.” He stops dancing now, tries to hedge a bit of space between you without letting you go entirely.

“Aaron,” you whisper, clinging to him more tightly as he pulls away, feeling his jacket wrinkle under your fingernails.

“Yes?” he whispers back.

“I’m glad you told me,” you tell him, and that’s all the permission he needs to take your face in both of your hands and kiss you, with a gentleness that makes you feel like spun gold, with the reverence of a man who knows that love is not a game, with the hunger of one who has been starved for months.

He pulls away from you, too soon, and your eyes are wet. “My resignation will be on your desk by Monday morning.”

He takes a step away. “What do you--”

“Goodnight, Aaron,” You tell him with a sad little smile, turning around towards the door you came from and leaving him in the garden.

You’re drowning your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s when the doorbell rings the next day. You swing the door open grumpily, to reveal Aaron.

“It’s Saturday, and you can’t turn in your resignation until 9am Monday. What can I do in the next forty eight hours to convince you that you belong here?” Aaron asks, still standing in the hall of your apartment complex.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. You can’t give him what he wants, but you won’t have this argument where all the neighbors will hear, either. “It’s too late, Hotch.”

“It’s not too late,” he argues, checking his watch. “I have forty six hours and thirteen minutes.”

“I’ll still be the girl who got this job on her back forty six hours from now.” You tell him, folding your arms.

“You’ll be what?” He asks, incredulous.

“I know that you heard me loud and clear.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know that you slept with Erin Strauss. I didn’t think you were her type.” He says, and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re absolutely incorrigible!” You cry out.

“Who implied that you got this job on anything other than your own merit?” Aaron asks, a glint in his eye that lets you know that they’ll be handled just as soon as he gets you to shred the letter of resignation you drafted last night.

“Didn’t I? You didn’t clear my promotion because you were attracted to me?” You asked.

“I cleared your promotion before we even met-- your interview was a bureau formality. Your reputation and the glowing recommendations from your peers in counterterrorism spoke volumes.” He assures you.

“Oh,” you let out, your anger deflating.

“If you want to leave because of my inappropriate behavior, please reconsider. I’m incredibly sorry for--” He starts, but you cut him off, placing your hands on his face and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Please continue to be inappropriate,” you tell him in between kisses.

He smiles as he continues to place kisses across your face, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “Right now?” He asks, slipping a hand underneath your shirt. “You want me to be inappropriate right now?”

“If you’re really good at it, I’ll let you tear up my resignation yourself.”

@romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @ijustwannaread2k19 @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @rousethemouse @scuttling

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds one shot

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buttterknifeee · 3 years ago

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Sisters- Teen Titans x Aquagirl Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You don't get along well with your own siblings, but maybe you'll get along well with Starfire's super-cool, definitely-not-evil sister!

Pairings: Platonic! Starfire x reader

Word Count: 3575

A/N: Hey guys!!! Sorry for posting this so late I just did this one a lot slower lol. Unfortunately, school's starting soon so I won't be able to write as often. I'm still working on 2 fics so keep that in mind if you want to request!

Carnivals were the best invention in the world, you decided. The rides, the food, the games, and you only get to enjoy it a few times a year. So when the carnival does come to visit, you always make sure to enjoy it as much as you can.

“Don’t you just lovvvveee carnivals?” You say, walking next to Raven.

“Well, Beast Boy and Cyborg have been trying to win an animal from a single game for the past hour and Robin and Starfire are probably making out on the ferris wheel, so not as much as you.” she says, staring straight ahead. The others had paired up and set off when you first entered the carnival, so that left you with Raven. And as much as you love Raven, you love her in a “meditating/book club” way, not a “fun adventure” way. You approached the two boys as they finally won their carnival game prize.

“Told you we’d win a prize” Beast Boy grinned at Raven, holding a toy chicken to her face.

“A giant chicken. I must be the luckiest girl in the world.” She said sarcastically.

Suddenly, Robin jumped in front of the four of you.

“Titans! Trouble!” He yelled, standing up from a crouching position.

“Where’s Starfire?” Cyborg asked.

“That's the trouble,” Robin said, then promptly took off. The four of you followed him close behind. He brings the four of you to a dock, where you finally see the “trouble” Robin was talking about. Starfire was being chased by a flying, squid-like space robot with tentacles and everything. She flies past the five of you, the flying machine doing the same.

“Who’s her new best friend?” Beast Boy asks, staring at the scene before you.

“Don’t know, but I can’t wait to meet him,” Robin said.

Starfire hid behind you as the flying machine continued to follow her. Beast Boy turned into an alligator and tried to attack the robotic squid, but missed. You tried to hit it with jets of water, but it bounced off of its exterior. Raven threw a hot dog cart at the machine with her telekinesis, but it simply tore straight through the cart. Cyborg grabbed onto the tentacles and strained as the machine tried to get away.

“Don't know what you did to make this thing mad, Star, but it couldn't hurt to apologize!” Cyborg yelled, trying to keep a grip on the tentacles.

“I am… sorry?” Starfire apologizes confusingly, taking shelter behind a grimacing Robin.

Cyborg loses grip on the mysterious space squid as Robin jumps forward. He hits the machine hard with his staff and it falls into the water. A moment of silence falls onto the six of you.

“So, did we just win?” Beast Boy asked.

His answer came in the form of the machine crashing through the floor and back into the sky. Robin jumps onto it.

“Don’t see an OFF switch,” He yells. “Guess I’ll have to make one!” He punches into the side of the machine. The machine goes haywire, and Robin jumps off of it before it flies crazily into the sky and blows up. Since there were already fireworks, any regular citizens could have easily mistaken it for one of the big finals. You turned your attention to Starfire.

“Starfire, are you alright?” you ask. She nodded with a small smile.

“Whatever that thing was, it can’t hurt you now.” Robin said, now next to her again.

Starfire frowned. “But… why did it wish to hurt me at all?”

You found yourself back in the tower after such an eventful night. Despite being attacked by some alien machine, Starfire seemed to be in a cheery mood.

“I shall thank you for my rescue by reciting the Poem of Gratitude, all six thousand verses.” She said, a giant smile on her face. You and the others stopped dead in your tracks, not excited for how the rest of the night will seem to go.

“I think ‘thank you’ cuts it,” You say.

Suddenly, you hear a voice. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.” The voice belonged to a girl who bore a striking resemblance to Starfire. She had long, black hair, and wore a black outfit similar to Starfire, except hers had more metal components. The mystery girl continued.

“When we were little, I was always rescuing Starfire.”

“Sister!” Starfire squealed, running to hug her. Starfire’s sister smiled, holding up a necklace with a large green gem as the pendant.

“A Centauri Moon Diamond?? Where did you get-”

“On the Centauri Moons of course.” the sister said, fastening the necklace around Starfire’s neck. “Oh look, it matches your eyes.” Starfire smiled brightly. You remember that you’ve been staring at the two of them interacting when she turns to the five of you.

“I wish to introduce my big sister,” Starfire said. Her sister stepped in front of her.

“Blackfire,” she said. “ And since Star told me all about the Titans in her transmissions, let me guess.” She walks over to Cyborg.

“Cyborg,” She guessed correctly.

“Pleased to meet you little lady,” Cyborg says, holding out his hand. She takes it and you hear the sound of metal bending. Cyborg holds up his hand, now bent out of shape.

“Little lady, big handshake. Well alright!” he says with a smile. Blackfire moves on.

“Raven. I like that gemstone on your Ajna chakra,” Blackfire says.

“You know about chakras?” Raven asked, mildly impressed.

“I got way into meditation on Altara Prime.” She says casually. She then turned to you.

“Aquagirl. Oh my god your outfit is soooo cute! And your hair, how do you get it so healthy?” She said, clasping your hands. Her voice was nothing like Starfire’s; it was much smoother, and more confident, not to mention she had the American accent down.

“Mix of coconut oil, avocado, and a cabinet full of hair ointments” you wink.

“You’ll have to give me tips.” she winked back.

She continued her introductions, finally getting to Robin. She was all over him, complimenting his outfit, calling his mask ‘mysterious’, etc. You saw Starfire steaming with anger, even if she didn’t show it. She intercepted them as Blackfire got close to his face.

“So beloved sister, what brings you to Earth?” Starfire asks, an annoyed grin spread across her face.

“I was in the quadrant. Thought I'd see if Earthlings like to party.” She said, hopping onto the couch. “Besides, I needed a rest. Nearly got sucked into a black hole on the way here.” Immediately, the three boys rushed over to her, the three of you girls still behind them. You rolled your eyes at the sight of the three teens crowding around Blackfire.

“Black hole?”

“No way!”

“Cool”

You could feel Blackfire’s smirk as she began her story.

“Okay. I’m cruising through Draconis Nebula and-”

Starfire interrupted. “Sister! That nebula is full of black holes! You know travel there is forbidden.” The four teens on the couch stared at her.

“Most fun things in life are. Now be a sweetie and bring me one of those sodas I've heard so much about.” Blackfire waved at her and turned back to the boys. You heard her continue the story, but all you could focus on was Starfire grumbling towards the fridge. You look at Raven; your way of saying Ill go after her.

You find Starfire taking a soda can out of the fridge, talking to herself.

“Starfire?” you ask. She flinches at your approach, almost dropping the soda in her hand.

“Oh! Aquagirl. You have caught me off guard, my apologies,” she rubs her neck, blushing.

“You alright? You seemed a little worked up back there,” you say as the teen straightened herself up.

“Oh it's nothing, it's just that…” she sighed, closing the refrigerator. “My sister has always acted in such a way that can cause me to feel… annoyed.”

“Oh well, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m always here.” She hugs you, still holding the can of soda.

“Thank you my friend”

The next day, You were sitting in your room. Starfire barged in while you were rubbing the water from your head with your towel.

“Oh hey Starfire! What's up?” you smile, putting the towel onto your bed.

“Aquagirl! Have you seen Blackfire?” she asked. You noticed that she seemed distressed, but decided to answer her question first.

“Oh! We just went surfing! She crushed those waves!” You say, reminiscing. She was surprisingly good at surfing, especially since she told you it was her first time. Starfire frowned.

“Oh. alright.” you frowned back at her answer.

“Well, I think she might be with Robin right now. Is everything alright?” you ask. Her face turns bright red at the mention of Robin’s name.

“N- I mean, yes! Everything is alright. I must go.” She slammed the door before you could say anything. You wanted to go after her, but you figured since she left so quickly, she's probably not in the mood to talk. You went about your day, still a little worried about her.

Nighttime fell, and you sat on the couch with the other Titans, relaxing after an uneventful day. Starfire skipped in holding popcorn, candy, and a bunch of CDs.

“Friends! I invite you to join me in the togetherness of a stay-home movie night. I bring you popcorn and non-cotton candies. Tell me, what sort of movie shall we view?”

“Action,” said Robin.

“Romance!” you cheered.

“Comedy.” spat Beast Boy.

“Sci-fi” Cyborg offered.

“Horror.” Raven said flatly. Starfire drops her goodies.

“Perhaps a double feature?” she asked.

“Forget the flicks, kids.” You looked up to see Blackfire, now dressed in Starfire’s clothes. “We’re going out!”

“We are? Where did you- How did you-” Starfire stuttered, obviously confused by her sister’s new look.

“Heard about a party downtown,” Blackfire continued, ignoring her sister. “Cool crowd, hot music”

“Sound’s nice!” you say.

“Yeah!” Beast Boy agrees.

“I’m in!” Cyborg says.

“Why not?” Robin smiles. Raven kept looking at her book.

“And it's in an abandoned warehouse,” Blackfire adds. Raven looked up from her book, her way of saying that she's in. You all began to leave. You noticed Starfire still standing where she was, looking a bit sadder.

“Starfire? you coming?” you asked, walking by her.

“Oh um, I guess I will go,” she said, hanging her head a bit. You looked at her but she didn’t meet your eyes. Maybe she’s tired, you thought, walking to catch up with the other titans.

You entered the party, taking in the colorful lights and dancing teens. You followed Blackfire onto the dance floor, who seemed to already be dancing.

“Step aside Earthlings, the queen of the galaxy has arrived!” she cheered, swaying her hips with the other teens. She looks at the rest of you, a smirk on her face.

“Now don't tell me you big tough superheroes are afraid of a little dancing.” she says, beckoning you to do so. The boys joined in, and you noticed that Raven left the dance floor with a boy. The only people who weren’t dancing were you and Starfire. Starfire looked scared, she was clutching her new necklace, and you swore that she said something about shovels. You came up to her and took her hand.

“Let’s go Starfire, I think you need some air.” you say, leading her to the stairwell.

You sat next to her on the roof, both awkwardly silent.

“So, what's wrong?” you finally say.

“It’s my sister again,” she sighs. “It feels as though she has stolen you all from me, and I don’t know how to keep that from happening.”

“Hey. we’ll always be your friends, just as you’ll be ours. And she didn’t steal us from you, we just thought she was cool and all-” you were cut off by a yell from the part below.

“YO A.G.!!! YOU GOTTA COME DOWN HERE!!!” Cyborg yelled. You looked at the direction of the sound and then back at Starfire, who was staring at the ground.

“Oh- uh they probably need me, I’ll be right back,” You say, rubbing her arm. “HANG ON I'LL BE THERE IN A SEC!”

You race down to the dance floor and see Cyborg dancing.

“YO THEY’RE TOTALLY PLAYING YOUR SONG!” he yelled. Ugh I should get back to Starfire but they are totally playing my song, you thought. You look at Cyborg again, who was waving at you to join him. You see Robin next to you and pull him aside.

“Hey Aquagirl! Where’s Starfire?” He asked. You cross your arms.

“She’s upstairs on the roof. Listen, she’s super down in the dumps right now, I think you should talk to her.” You say. He nods and leaves, heading towards the stairs. You sigh as you go back to join your other friends. You bump into Blackfire, who was now sporting a neon pink wig.

“Um, nice wig,” you say.

“Thanks hot stuff. Where’s Robin? I saw you with him earlier.” She asked, still dancing. You weren’t sure if it was the best idea to tell her.

“He’s uhhhhhhh….” you try to stall.

“... with Starfire.” she finishes. You turn to see her staring through the glass roof, where you could see Robin and Starfire sitting together. She turns to the rest of you.

“One sec guys!” She winks. Less than a minute goes by and she reappears with Robin. You make eye contact; he seemed annoyed by being back here.

“We HAVE to dance to this song!” she says, starting to dance again next to Robin. He steps away from her.

“Sorry, but I’m going to check on Starfire again.” Robin says, heading to the stairwell again. Blackfire follows him, trying to get him to return, leaving you with Cyborg and Beast Boy. They continue to dance and you roll your eyes.

Suddenly, you notice Starfire fighting something. You squint at her location, then realize that what she's attacking is one of the robots from yesterday. You look at the two boys who’ve quite literally been dancing the whole time.

“Cyborg! Beast Boy! Starfire’s in trouble!” You yell, already running towards the exit. Suddenly, another of those robots appears out of nowhere.

“What the- AHHHHH!!!!” you scream as the robot latches onto you and drags you away. The two boys try to follow you but a third robot attacks them, leaving you to still be stuck in the clutches of the space robot. You see Raven hanging out with the boy from earlier (they’d be a cute couple huh) and she spots you. She flies after you, flinging two robots towards the machine as you finally break free. Starfire crashes into the room through the ceiling and lands in the crates, Cyborg and Beast Boy still taking on the other robot.

All three of the robots start chasing Starfire, and she flies around the room trying to lose them. Cyborg knocks into them and lays some punches, you trying to short circuit them by spraying them with water. One of the robots hits Cyborg, sending him flying into a wall. Another one sends Starfire flying into a different wall, and she lands in a dumpster. You run to the hole in the wall to find the aliens trying to bring the whole dumpster into the air. You were about to try to strike them when you saw a flash- the flash of a birdarang. It cuts into the arms of the robot and drops the container. Robin joins the rest of you.

“Titans Go!” Robin yells, but Blackfire flies out in front of you. In a matter of seconds she demolished all three robots. You all surrounded her as she stood victoriously.

“Aw yeah! Good times!”

“Nice shot, Tex!”

“Very nice.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself!”

“How did you know where to hit them?” Robin asked.

“Lucky guess,” Blackfire shrugged. Cyborg stepped forward.

“We could use luck like that,” he said. “Maybe you oughta join the team.”

“Me? A teen titan?” Blackfire asked, obviously flattered. You couldn’t help but notice Starfire looking away, a defeated look on her face. I should talk to her again, you decided.

You and Robin found Starfire standing on the roof of the Titans Tower. You found out that you both had the idea of finishing up your conversations, but it seemed that Starfire had different plans. You reach her as she floats into the air.

“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” Robin asked, causing her to whip around to face the two of you.

“A little rude if you ask me,” you tried to joke, but she didn’t laugh. Her head hanging, she slowly landed back on the roof, taking off the backpack she was wearing.

“Aquagirl, Robin, I- '' She began, but was cut off by the sound of a spaceship coming towards you. One of the aliens on board unleashes its arm, which is a tentacle much like one of the robot’s, and slashes you and Robin, sending you both to the ground. It then wraps around Starfire, pulling her into the ship.

Robin runs towards the screaming Starfire and jumps from the roof and towards the ship. You watch in horror as he misses, and begins the fall towards the ground. The ship continues its ascent into the air.

“ROBIN!” you scream, running towards the edge of the Tower’s roof. You can do this, you can do this, you can-

You focused hard, and raised your arms above you. A geyser of water shoots up from the shore and catches Robin. You raised the geyser up towards the hull of the spaceship, allowing the Boy Wonder to grab onto the bottom and make his way up. Seeing that he made it safely on board, you dropped the geyser of water.

You fell to your knees, breathing heavily. You haven’t made such a strong geyser in, well, never! Your vision was blurring as Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Raven all rushed onto the roof.

“Aquagirl! What happened?” Cyborg asked, helping you up.

“Starfire… Spaceship… Robin… I helped…” you huffed, pointing towards the spaceship, which was now far away from the tower.

“We gotta catch up to them. But how?” Beast Boy said, staring at the silhouette in the distance.

“Follow my lead.” Raven said, grabbing on to Beast Boy and Cyborg, who was holding into you. You watched as she made a dark portal in front of you. She pulled the three of you through it and you found yourself in the outskirts of the city, next to mountains and a river. You see Starfire and Robin up ahead, in front of a now toppled over spaceship.

“Starfire! Robin!” Beast Boy yelled as you caught up to them.

“Are you alright?” Cyborg asked. Suddenly, you see two aliens emerge from the shipwreck.

“Titans! Get ready!” he said, assuming a fighting stance, which you follow. You wait tensely as the aliens approach you.

“In the name of the Grand Centauri Empire, you are all under arrest.” one of the aliens says, showing off a professional looking police badge. You stare at it. If they're police, why are they arresting us? And why are we fighting them?

“Uh… you can’t be the good guys. We’re the good guys.” Beast Boy says, just as confused as you are.

“And we are the Centauri Police,” the second alien repeats.

“The Tamaranean girl is a liar and a thief.” the first police alien says, pointing at Starfire. “She's committed high crimes throughout the entire Centauri system.”

“I have never even been to the Centauri moons!” Starfire pleaded.

Suddenly everything clicked. The necklace, the events at the carnival, the events at the party. All evidence seemed to have pointed to Starfire, but they actually pointed at another person.

“But I know someone who has.” you and Robin say at the same time. You look at each other, obviously aware of who the other was thinking.

Blackfire.

Robin took off Starfire’s necklace for her and threw it aside. He faced the police aliens.

“You’ve been chasing the wrong girl. Where’s Blackfire?” Robin says. Before any of the other Titans could answer, you saw a figure flying through the sky.

“That Bitch!” you yelled, watching Blackfire make an escape.

“Don’t worry Star, she won't get away with this,” Robin says to Starfire, but her eyes are already glowing.

“No she will not!” she yells, and shoots off into the sky. You couldn’t see much, but there were flashes of bright green and purple in the sky. The Centauri police calmly rebalanced their ship and restarted it, its engine humming to life.

You then watched as they proceeded to fly up into the sky and capture Blackfire, similar to how they initially captured Starfire, and fly off into the night. You stared dumbfounded.

"What just happened?"

The next morning, you stood in front of the kitchen, making pancakes with Cyborg.

“Crazy what happened last night, huh?” you yawned, watching the pancakes sizzle on the stove.

“No kidding,” he said. “She would’ve made a great addition to the team, except for the intergalactic-criminal part.” You laughed, flipping the rest of the pancakes.

You climbed up to the roof, finding Robin and Starfire sitting together. God they’re probably being cheesy together you thought. You cleared your throat, the two of them jumping at your presence.

“Hey you two,” you winked. “Breakfast is ready!!!”

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

Text

Canary, Part 1

It was a good day. Why did stuff always have to go wrong on ‘good days’, Marinette thought bitterly as she rushed through the city, the rough edges of her phone digging into her palm. The message she’d been sent was burned into her eyelids.

She pushed the spiraling thoughts from her mind as she stared at the street sign nearest her. Only a minute and she’d be there and her fears would be either confirmed or denied.

She leaned against the wall to gather her thoughts. If she had messed up it had to have been today because, otherwise, he would have done something earlier. Did she mess up? She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she thought back.

She’d woken up on an uncomfortable mattress on the floor and rolled off of it, the sheets sticking to her sweaty skin. It had been a particularly hot day for Gotham and she had been too concentrated on typing up a report for work to turn up the AC before her impromptu nap (translation: she’d passed out).

She rubbed her eyes until she managed to get her brown contacts out and set them in the weird not-quite-water that she had never bothered to learn the name for so her eyes could rest while she took a quick shower and changed.

Then, she’d waited. She sat in the window, eyes barely poking over the sill as she watched the building across the street. She didn’t feel like moving for a long while but, alas, the meeting was supposed to be that day and she was running out of time for that thing with Calendar Man and… yeah. Unfortunately, Marinette had to be productive that day unless she wanted more enemies.

She saw movement and her face lit up. She might get everything done soon, at least, and then she could pass out for a hundred years like she oh-so-desperately wanted to.

She checked that her gloves were firmly in place, pulled on the plague doctor (gas) mask that had accidentally become her trademark, and toed on her boots.

Then, she made her way up to the alleyway next to the building she had been watching. She’d been lucky enough to have a job right next to one of her safe houses and she kinda wished that it would happen again. It was nice to not have to travel a half-hour or more just to listen in on one boring conversation.

She pulled out her knives and, after testing to make sure they were still strong enough to hold her weight, began picking her way up to the roof.

She set everything up for the thing with Calendar Man. It took approximately five seconds. Yay her.

Alright, next thing: listening in on a boring conversation that, if she was lucky, would end in someone getting shot so it wouldn’t last too long. It was going to be even hotter inside the vent and she did not want to end up cooked. That would be embarrassing.

She crawled into the vents and dutifully wrote down everything they said on a notepad. They were negotiating a drug deal and her client wanted to intercept it to try and get both the money and the (… Big D? What the fuck is Big D?) drugs. From the sounds of it, it wasn’t possible but, hey, her job wasn’t anything more than gathering intel. If her clients wanted to die stupidly that was on them.

… maybe she’d kill her client herself, she thought angrily as she readjusted in the vent in hopes of not getting stuck to the metal. It was easy money but wow was it awful.

Or, at least, it was awful until a hand grabbed her by the hood of her leather jacket and started dragging her out. She tipped her head back, grin on her face in seconds.

“Signal. Hi.”

He sighed and pulled her the rest of the way out. She let herself hang from his grip like a reprimanded cat.

“So, what’s up?” She asked brightly, as if hadn’t just caught her listening in on a private conversation.

“Great, thanks for asking,” he said. “Even better now that I’m taking the famed Canary to Arkham.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.”

He leveled her with a cold look for a few more seconds before splitting into a grin. “Yeah. Probably not. Got a backup plan?”

“Of course.”

“Is it even worth trying?”

“Probably not. But who knows? You could get lucky.”

She waited for a minute as he mulled over the idea in his head before he sighed. “I gotta ask: what’s with the egg?”

She swatted at his hand until he let her down and then led him over to her science experiment. “Know how there’s that expression that says ‘it’s so hot out you could make eggs on the sidewalk’ or something?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, the pavement physically can’t get hot enough to do that and also we’re up north so: aluminum foil to try and get the process to work a little better.”

He stared at her for a while before snickering. “Need a magnifying glass? We can ‘kid with an anthill’ this.”

“Sure.”

He reached into his tool belt and started looking for his spare. Unfortunately for him, it seemed to be gone.

She could feel his sharp gaze turn on her even if she couldn’t see his eyes behind his helmet. He wasn’t stupid and magnifying glasses don’t usually just disappear into thin air unless they’re Plastic Man in disguise. She held up her hands for a quick search but, when he couldn’t find it on her, he just sighed and looked down at the science experiment. It didn’t seem to be going well. The egg was still distinctly not cooked.

Eventually, he groaned and sat down. The light around him flickered and started to move at his will. Marinette watched intently.

Ten minutes later, they had a cooked egg. They high-fived, delighted. They weren’t going to taste it, obviously, it had been out for a while without supervision and who knows what could have happened to it… but it was an egg! Yay them!

“My old science teacher would be so proud of me,” Marinette joked.

“My current science teacher would be proud of me.”

“Oooooh, going back to school?”

He smiled. “Yep! Robin is finally in college and Red Hood convinced me to go with him. You should, too, it’s actually not that bad.”

“Please. If I was going to do that I’d go back to my home country. American school is expensive and not all of us are sponsored by billionaires.”

“... aren’t you a millionaire?”

She grinned. “Of course. But why would I want to spend that much of my own money?”

He hummed his understanding. Then, she pushed herself up with a groan. “Right, we both have jobs. See you later.”

He hesitated and then held a hand out for her notepad. “Is it bad?”

She held it out of reach with ease. “Nah, just drugs. Unless someone got shot while I was gone but I doubt it. They’d been almost as bored as me last I heard.”

“If it’s nothing then let me see.”

“Ugh, do you really want to fight? It’s too hot for that,” Marinette complained. He started to square up and she, after a second’s thought, added a little something to convince him: “Also, there’s going to be a breakout today so you should really save your energy.”

“... really think I’m going to fall for that?”

There was an explosion in the distance.

“Yeah. I’d hurry. I’m pretty sure it’s Joker’s turn to get out.”

She waved him off with a smile… only for her smile to drop when she remembered her other job. She groaned again and stretched out while she still could.

Tikki floated over the side of the building, a magnifying glass as big as her head in her tiny paws.

Marinette rubbed the kwami’s head. “You’re the best.”

Her kwami sighed. “That I am,” she said.

Marinette grinned and sent the film of Signal using his powers to her computer so she could give it to Calendar Man when it was due.

People were always so predictable in Gotham.

She supposed she really had been tempting fate when she’d thought that. Still, that didn’t mean she liked it that Fate had called her bluff.

But, actually, it seemed that Fate was the one that was bluffing. That had been her entire day. She had finished up her work and then went to one of her more stocked safehouses for a nap. She’d woken up to the buzzing of her phone when she’d gotten the message. She didn’t think she had messed up anywhere…

Her shoulders relaxed. She was probably fine. Which meant it was just Oswald Cobblepot being annoying. As usual.

Marinette flung the doors to the Iceberg Lounge open. Every eye in the room fell on her, but she only cared about the eyes of one person.

She stalked through the lounge, pulling one of her twin karambits from its sheath and pointing the curved blade towards him.

“What the fuck do you want? You really think that, after almost seven whole years of rejecting your wrinkly ass, I’m suddenly going to say ‘oh, yeah, I guess I’ll work for him now’? Leave me alone!”

Cobblepot wasn’t concerned even as her knife came to rest under his chin.

“Canary,” he greeted, regarding her cooly through his monocle.

Guards surrounded them. Marinette somehow managed to look unimpressed without anyone being able to see her face.

Everyone present held their breath… except for the two with weapons pointed at themselves. They knew that they would never follow through with it, especially not in a place as public as this. It was little more than a warning, a reminder, that either of them could kill each other at any given moment and chose not to.

For now, at least.

Cobblepot dismissed the guards with a wave of a gloved hand and she, after a few seconds, lowered her knife.

“What do you want?”

“Currently? For you to get off my table,” said Cobblepot.

She snorted but hopped down with ease. “I meant: why did you call me here?”

“... we should go somewhere else to discuss this. I assume you don’t do all of your business meetings in public?”

“Only if I know ahead of time that I’m going to say no,” she said.

He motioned for her to walk with him to a private room and, reluctantly, she followed. He had to think he had something on her, otherwise he wouldn’t have tried calling her there. She was curious.

They came to a room with a metal door and she cringed a little. Fun.

She dropped eight knives down into a tray and Cobblepot put down a gun, a knife, and his umbrella. She let a female goon pat her down and then checked Cobblepot over herself. Nothing she could find, but she was sure he had found some way to hide one somewhere.

They stepped inside as a pair and each took a seat on opposing ends of the wooden table stationed awkwardly in the middle of the room. She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up.

“So, what’s the job?”

“I’m surprised you’re even going to hear it.”

She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

He nodded slowly before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

“Power poses don’t actually work, you know, that’s just lies so companies don’t actually have to deal with all the discrimination.”

“Is that true?” He asked.

She shrugged again. “Probably. I’ve never worked for anyone, so…”

He chuckled. She didn’t like that.

But he didn’t say anything on that subject. Instead, he just smiled a smile that looked weird on his face and gave her her mission briefing: “I want you to figure out the bats’ identities for me.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute before breaking out into laughter. She couldn’t seem to stop. She stood up to leave, still giggling. Really? Did he really think that would work? People had asked many times, of course, and the bats’ identities weren’t common knowledge so she had to have said no. Why would she suddenly do it for him? She didn’t even like him.

She rested her hand on the knob but held off on leaving for just a second. She flashed a grin at Cobblepot. “Interesting offer. Bold. But no. Couldn’t pay me enough to do that.”

“Good thing I have no intentions of paying you, Marinette.”

~~~

And behold a new section I call ‘Marinette is a menace to society why would anyone let her on twitter’

(… the name may need a little work)

OliverQueenOfficial: Why does that one Gotham villain go by Canary? Black Canary already exists.

TheBetterCanary: if youre gonna vague tweet maybe dont put my name in it

TheBetterCanary: but anyways someone else named me that and it stuck before i could think of something to change it to

ScareCrane:… @/RiddleMeThis she’s dissing you

RiddleMeThis: LISTEN UP. IT WAS THEMATIC. DON’T ANY OF YOU KNOW ANYTHING OF DRAMA? EVER HEAR ABOUT CANARIES IN COAL MINES? FUCK ALL OF YOU AND YOUR UNCULTURED, UNEDUCATED ASSES. NOT TO MENTION IT WAS MAKING FUN OF THE BIRD THEME ALL THE VIGILANTES HER AGE SEEM TO HAVE. (1/14)

TheBetterCanary: @/ScareCrane why would you do that you knew he was going to do this

ScareCrane: Joker just broke out so Arkham is boring… needed to entertain myself somehow

TheBetterCanary: fuck you im not visiting this weekend

OliverQueenOfficial: Wow do I regret asking. I didn’t need all this family drama in my comments.

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

#alright strap in babes it's another longfic #no one is surprised #why do i change my format with every fic?#no clue #im dumb #anyways ive finally started writing this #canary #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #i like timinette best as a ship name #idk why

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songmingisthighs · 3 years ago

Text

[15.08] badboy!seonghwa × reader

⇀ had you known that's why he confessed, would you have accepted him ? Or smack his annoyingly perfect face with your laptop ?

⇁ part 1 / 2

⇁ prologue part 1 / 2 / 3

Things had gone great between you and Seonghwa. You and he would often meet at your dorm or at the diner at least three times a week.

You'd ask him why you both never hung at his dorm but his answer was that he doesn't want the boys to disturb your 'quality time'.

Normally you'd question answers like that, but the way he looks at you and holds your hand made you forget why you even wanna ask that in the first place.

But like all things, everything dissipates with time.

Nearing the end of the semester, group projects lessen and solo assignments accumulate which put a strain between your and Seonghwa's hangout time. You've tried convincing him that you both can hang out whilst doing your solo assignments but you remembered how his eyes trailed after a girl as you spoke at one of your last hangouts at the diner.

Seems like he's lost interest in you too.

Which, it sure hurts, but you both were never official and neither had verbally confirmed to the other about their feelings. It sucks.

But you power through.

You pretend that his silence during class's group discussion didn't affect you, you pretend that when he immediately pack up his stuff to leave the class and only throwing you a polite smile didn't make your heart wrench, you pretend that him ghosting you didn't make you feel both embarrassed and angry at the same time.

You're light and breezy.

Heck, you're so light and breezy, you still go to that diner every Friday all alone. And it's not because you had hoped to see one particular man.

Even though you did.

When he was on a date with some girl who's obviously very pretty.

On the booth you both had 'claimed' as 'your booth' without ever verbally saying it.

"Hi, excuse me," a voice broke your train of thoughts.

You look up from your book to see a really handsome man standing in front of you with a smile on his face. He looks very handsome, definitely mixed-race, and he has this chill aura on him that is honestly refreshing to you.

"Sorry to bother you, but can I sit here?" He asked. You look around to see that there are a lot of other places left in the library where he could've sat.

Sensing your apprehension, the man raised both of his hands, "I'm not a creep or a weirdo, I'm just very particular about where I work,"

He's got a point. So you just nodded, "sure, it's not my table or anything anyways, you could've just taken a seat without asking my permission," he shrugged as he put his things across you, "I mean sure, but you seemed like you don't wanna be bothered and this particular spot has the best walking distance to anywhere at all and plus the secret charging port? Genius," he said, grinning proudly.

You raised your eyebrows at him, "you seem to know your way around the table, mister..." you trailed off to which he immediately caught on, "Hansol, Choi Hansol, but my friends calls me Vernon," he held his hand out for you to shake, "(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and why Vernon?" "My english name, I'm half American,"

And with that, you got yourself a new friend.

Vernon is a computer science major, and the other thing major about him is his nerdiness. And his hotness. Which is a ridiculous combination.

Ever since that day in the library, you both somehow find the other popping up everywhere. Just a day after your first meeting in the library, he came into the café you part-timed at. He came in to order 13 drinks and several pastries, shocking you at first but then he told you he lives in a frat house with 12 other guys and that he's not a caffeine addict.

Then you both bonded over the many sessions in the library which eventually venture out to sitting together during lunch, and then suddenly you both started meeting outside campus.

And this did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa.

"Hey, Seonghwa, how well do you know (Y/N)?" Hongjoong asked, breaking Seonghwa's glare on you and Vernon from all the way across the cafeteria.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him, "(Y/N) from my statistics class?" As if he hadn't considered you as something more at some point, "I'd say well enough as a groupmate, why?" He asked back.

Hongjoong nodded towards you and Vernon with his chin, "Vernon there saw you both working together and he wants to make sure he won't be stepping on anyone's toes when he's making a move on her,"

At that moment, Seonghwa almost choked on his fries. Too surprised with the fact that you've possibly moved on from him so quickly.

It's only been a month and a half since you both stopped hanging out outside of obligation.

Hearing that made his blood boil and he's pretty sure it's not jealousy. Most likely territorialism. HE took interest in you first waaaaay before Vernon did.

The smile and laugh you give Vernon was supposed to be for him. He used to make you laugh so hard at any stupid pun he concocted in his head. No matter how stupid it is nor how much it doesn't make any sense.

To be completely honest, he didn't know why he pulled away from you in the first place. He had been so comfortable with you, never once had he ever let his guard down and just be carefree, not even with his closest friends.

He needs to get you back to him.

No matter what.

So he made his move the next time you both had statistics again.

Unlucky for him though, the professor decided to not have any group discussion that day which threw Seonghwa's plan out the window. But thankfully he still remembered your schedule, you don't have any class after statistics which means you'd be grabbing a simple lunch before your part-time job starts until 8 pm.

So he waited patiently for the bell to ring.

Legs bouncing in anticipation as his eyes flit towards the clock every five minutes.

When the professor finally dismissed the class (10 minutes later than he's supposed to, as per usual), he immediately put all his belongings back in his bag and ran after you. Somehow you've mastered the art of cleaning up quickly over the month and a half without him.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Seonghwa called.

You stopped in your tracks and turn your head to see Seonghwa jogging towards you with that stupid, charming smile on his face.

Damn his good looks.

"Yeah? Is there something wrong?" you asked him when he caught up to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, confused as to why you'd think there'd be anything wrong.

"Ah!" you suddenly exclaimed, "Is this about my part of the presentation? Don't worry, I'm close to finishing it, I should be able to compile it in the PPT tonight by... 9.30-ish? I have to finish my shift at the café," you explained.

He chuckled at you, deep voice that you oh so missed ringing in your ears, "wha- no, (Y/N), I'm not here to talk about our project, I just wanna... talk with you," he said, tilting his head to the side slightly. It somehow made him look both hot and cute at the same time. Which doesn't make sense.

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him while crossing your arms, "why? No offence, Seonghwa, but you've kinda been blowing me off for the past month and a half now, what makes you think I'd have anything to talk with you about?"

Those words coming out of your mouth shocked him. It's not like he didn't expect some apprehension from you, but hostility? Boy, you must've been really affected by his shitty doings.

"I-I- no, (Y/N), I haven't been blowing you off," bullshit, even he knows that, "I've just been really-" "really... what? Absent? Ghosty? Hot and cold? Whatever it is, Seonghwa, you don't owe me any explanation," you tried your best to not roll your eyes at him because honestly, how dare he blew you off and now acting like he didn't whilst hoping you don't notice what he has been doing.

What did he take you for? One of his brainless bimbos?

Surprised at your words, Seonghwa was left stunned. You waited for a solid 10 seconds for him to say something. Anything.

Literally, how hard is it to say sorry?

Realizing he wouldn't realize what he's supposed to do, you just shook your head at him, "I'll finish inputting and editing my part by tonight, I'll see you in class next week, Seonghwa," you said before walking away.

You would've thought that he'd take the hint and go back to ignoring you.

But now, of course not. He's stubborn and he plays by his own rules. It's an understatement to say that you were shocked when you saw him entering the café nearing the end of your shift.

Despite the shock of seeing him, you pretended like nothing's wrong and do what you're supposed to do to any other customer as per usual.

Heck, you'd give yourself a pat on the back, head, and butt for being so calm whilst handling Seonghwa. You managed to keep that "strictly professional" smile on your face as you take his orders, you didn't fumble when he made small talks as you typed in his orders into the computer (like really, who the heck said "good thing tonight's not cloudly, love the moonlight," ??), and you didn't flinch when your hands accidently touch as you hand him his strawberry frappucino.

Yes, the badboy strictly and secretly drink sweet, fruity drinks.

You'd thought that his presence was merely a coincidence. As he waited in his table, you had assumed that he's waiting for some girl (who isn't you, sadly) so all you wanna do is run out of there as soon as you can.

"Hey, Jaemin," you called your co-worker who's in the middle of sipping his 6 shot americano at 8 pm, "I'm gonna head out, okay? Think you can hold the fort until Yena's here? She said she has to turn in an assignment, that's why she's late,"

Jaemin just rolled his eyes at you, "(Y/N), I'm drinking coffee that's powerful enough to paralyze a horse, I can definitely handle the slow Wednesday night crowd," he said sarcastically to which you laugh.

After getting your things from your locker in the back room, you proceed to go out through the front door.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had followed behind.

You were only several steps away from the café when suddenly Seonghwa caught up to you and grab your hand.

Knowing that it's quite late and it's dark, Seonghwa should've known better. You honestly only feel slightly bad for punching his chest.

Slightly.

Like 2%.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Seonghwa you scared the devil out of me!" You exclaimed after realizing that it was just him, pulling your hand away from his grip. He coughed, trying to ease oxygen back to his lungs after you had brutally knocked them out.

"Guess I deserved that," he coughed out, but he was smirking as if he's amused by your attack, "sorry, I was just- I need to talk to you," he said, looking at you pleadingly.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that for the past month and a half, Seonghwa, you seemed just about done with me," you said while crossing your arms, your expression showing nothing but disdain at him. He seems to feel remorse after seeing how you looked at him. Never once did you showed any negativity nor hostility to him during the time you both spent together.

Seonghwa didn't really know what made him pull away from you. All he was sure of is that he felt something so strongly about you to the point that it scared him so much. He never felt the need to be with someone as much as when he was with you. He found himself thinking about you when you're both not together, he found himself only focusing on you and nothing else when you both are together, and he found his vulnerabilities open for you to access.

It scared him to hell and back when he realizes that there is a possibility of him wanting something more from you.

With you.

The man before you sighed, "I... Have no excuse for how I acted recently but believe me when I said that I regret pulling myself away from you because I'm scared, you're too good to and for someone like me, you deserve the best and I wanna be the best for you," he stepped closer to take both your hands in his, his eyes were genuine which rendered you incapable of being too mad at him, "I wish I could rewind the time and take back what I did, I never should have pulled away from you, I should have just told you the truth," he said.

For a second, he forgot about his image and he just let whatever he was feeling out, he wanted to make sure that you understand how he truly feels.

Both of you stood in silence, just staring at each other as he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand. With the way you're staring at him now, he was sure that your initial resolve had completely melted.

But suddenly from his peripheral vision, he saw Vernon coming out of a bookstore across the road and was looking around.

Remembering what prompted him to get closer to you again, he pulled you in close into his arms, a hand to your cheek and lips just centimetres away from his.

"So? Would you please give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me? Not as just some guy from your statistics class," his words made you chuckle and roll your eyes, "but as your boyfriend," he said before he could stop himself.

Your eyes widened, "m-me? With y-you? Boyfriend and girlfriend?" you choked out, not believing your ears in the first place. You wanted to make sure that he's not kidding, making a joke or making a fool out of you.

Instead of answering, however, he simply leaned in and places his lips softly on yours. The kiss was sweet, it conveyed how much he wants and misses you. For some reason it made you feel comforted, he feels like home and his arms makes you feel safe.

So then and there, you kiss him back as a form of an answer to him.

When you both finally pull away, you both could see dumb smiles decorating the other's face, proof of happiness over what just happen.

Remembering that you're in the middle of the road and there are people around you, you pulled away from his arms first but reached to tangle your hand in his.

"Come on, I believe I owed my groupmate my part of the presentation," you started as you walk, pulling him with you.

But as you walk, you turn your head at him to throw a flirty smirk, "boyfriend" you said, making him grin so wide, it could rival a Cheshire cat.

Maybe you and he isn't a bad idea at all.

All you can do now is hope that he won't break you.

#ateez #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #timestamp #ateez timestamp #ateez au #kpop boys #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #seonghwa #park seonghwa #smt #smt timestamp #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #kpop au

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inkbyajm · 4 years ago

Text

Bottled Up

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: angst, fluff

warnings: yelling, crying, insecurities

word count: 2.2k

notes: apologies for the tardy post, i wrote and rewrote and re-rewrote the whole angsty scene because i didn’t know if it was written well enough, i wanted to make sure you guys could feel the emotions that i vividly visualised and tried my best to put into words :( i did send it to a friend to check and she seemed to like it, so let me know how it goes for you, my loves. the angst for this one was inspired by 2 different songs - hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi and i will run from you by cemeteries. it’s not necessarily about the lyrics, but more about the melody and the mood you get into listening to them (they go in order). give those a listen :) also, beware of the upcoming philosophy references, i did study philosophy last year, hopefully no one gets triggered lmao

< previous next >

Is a person’s scent something a normal human being picks up on before taking into account the rest of their features? Would a normal human being remember said scent and be able to recognise it in a crowd full of strangers? Corpse wasn’t too sure about the answer, but one thing he did know, is that she smelled delicately sweet, like cherry blossoms, and that ever since he had noticed it during their game night a few weeks ago, he simply couldn’t let it go. It was intoxicating, but in a calming way.

━

Corpse and (Y/N) each lay on their beds in their own homes, going into the third hour of their call. He couldn’t exactly fall asleep, so he had decided to see what his dear friend was up to, and even though she was this close to succumbing to sleep, she said nothing and stayed up to keep his busy mind company.

“Okay, hot topic: what do you think about soulmates? More specifically the romantic type?” the girl asked, not knowing how much of a risqué question it was. How was he supposed to answer?

“I don’t really have an opinion on it. Why?”

“I read Symposium by Plato the other day and it presented an interesting concept about human beings. Basically-” Of course she fucking read philosophical books. How were they even having a conversation with each other? Why were they even friends? She was on a whole other level of smart. “-so this guy says that humans were like androgynous blobs, so they’d come in two sets of everything a normal person has. But those humans were so powerful, the gods were literally shaking in their robes, so Zeus decided to cut everyone into two to weaken them. But then humans became so miserable, they spent their entire lives searching for their other halves. In the end, Zeus kinda felt bad and said fuck it, I’ll give y’all dicks and vaginas for every time you wanna hug each other. And that’s the oldest explanation there is about the idea of soulmates.” she sighed, finished with her rant.

“That was...not at all the story I expected to hear.” she heard him mumble on the other side of the call. “Yeah, Greek philosophers were up to some reeal freaky things, you would have loved them,” he laughed at her joke, “I honestly think it’s cute. Not the whole cutting people into two thing, but like, longing for someone and then finding them because you finally feel complete. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a prince in shining whatever to sweep me off my feet. But it does sound nice, that ideal comfort, a person you’re just...meant to be with, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence that neither of them really minded, before it was Corpse’s turn to ask the second bold question of the night. “Have you found that person yet? Your soulmate?”

She’s never thought about it before, but she hasn’t really thought about soulmates that much either, it was a spontaneous thought she had said out loud. “I’m not sure, actually. (B/F/N) could be one, I guess.” (Y/N) shrugged in return. Wasn’t she going to ask him about it? She probably didn’t care that much. Understandable.

“My favourite quote about love is «You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.». It’s by Sam Keen, the American philosopher. It maay be the hopeless romantic in me shining through, but I do very much agree with his statement.” Did this mean anyone could have a chance with her despite their fuckups? So if he were to try, would she-?

“Obviously, there are some things that just can’t be ignored or avoided, but at that point it’s preferences and personal tolerance. Depends on the person, ya know?” she swiftly added, unaware of the effect it had on him. Sick. Some people were just meant to rot alone.

The final question was posed by (Y/N). She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at all curious. This little crush of hers had been steadily growing with every hang out, every laugh, every hug and every glance. There are rarely ever moments where one could casually discuss a topic this personal with friends, at least there weren’t with friends one had feelings for. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Corpse?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?” her voice was soft, her approach gentle.

“Well, I’ve been in relationships before, so I guess, yeah? It’s been so long, I don’t even know what love feels like anymore.” he let out a breath resembling a chuckle. Lamest fucking answer ever. But it was true. He hadn’t thought about love in that way in quite a while.

“A lot of people describe it as having an intense range of overwhelming feelings. Lightheadedness, slight shakiness, heart palpitations, some people have even reported losing their appetite. Crazy how human bodies work, huh? Oh! Speaking of chemicals-”

She had continued on to ramble about...chemistry? Eyes? Corpse couldn’t really hear what she was saying anymore, let alone concentrate on her words, as he pieced everything that’s been happening for the past few months together. The nauseating feeling. The pounding of his heart so fast it felt like he was about to die. The urge to make as little eye contact with her as possible, because otherwise he’d turn into a furnace. The obsession with her perfume, like he was some fucking creep. The fool was falling in love. And it was at that moment that everything had come crumbling down.

━

(Y/N) and Corpse hadn’t talked for a couple of weeks. Or rather (Y/N) messaged the 23 year old many times, but he’d either claim to be busy or just not answer at all. There were two possible reasons for the sudden lack of contact: he was indeed busy with his musical projects and couldn’t allow himself to be distracted; or something much more serious was going on. It didn’t matter, for she was already in her car, on her way to his apartment.

Arriving at her destination, she used the spare key he gave her months ago, a sign of absolute trust, and allowed herself into his humble abode. Silence reigned in her friend’s residence. She thought maybe he had gone somewhere, and though that was unlikely, it wasn’t unprecedented. The door to his recording room was closed, and while she was tempted to check if he was in there, she refrained from doing so, knowing that specific room was not to be entered unless he was around to give permission.

“Corpse?” she called out just to make sure. There was no response for a few minutes, which made her assume she had the place for herself, until she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw his figure emerge from said recording room in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, his curly hair disheveled.

“Hey, how are you d-”

“Why are you here?” he spoke flatly, interrupting her. “Well- You weren’t, um, answering your messages or any of my calls, so I thought something had happened.” she replied, suddenly nervous, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Nothing happened. I told you I was busy.”

The air around them seemed colder as tensions rose. (Y/N) could tell he was irritated, but she couldn’t exactly figure out why. She had never seen this side of him before. “Okay. Tell you what, I assume you haven’t had dinner yet, so why don’t I go ahead and start cooking something up while you-”

“Get out.”

She blinked a few times, not quite registering the words that had just left his mouth. “Sorry?” Her voice was quiet. She was taken off guard.

“Are you deaf? I said get. the fuck. OUT.”

Corpse shouted the last word, making her flinch in what appeared to be fear. Good. Run away while you still can. Heart pounding, (Y/N) took a second to remind herself whom she was speaking to. “I see that you’re angry, but at least give me a reason why-”

“You want a reason? I just don’t fucking WANT you here!” Anger grew inside of him like a tumor, but it wasn’t intended for her. She had simply been caught in a storm that had been building up for years. “Do you understand that?! I can’t fucking be around you without feeling like I’m going to EXPLODE.”

His words hit her like paintballs. They were only words, plain and simple, but they dug deeper and deeper into her skin with each hit, until, eventually, it broke. Eyes burning, she felt the tears slowly welling up in them.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” her own voice grew louder with frustration, but mostly, confusion.

“Maybe because I can? Because I’m a goddamn asshole?”

“Don’t say that.”

“How?! How can I not say it when it’s the truth!” He wanted to stop. His mind told him to cease whatever it was that he was doing. However, blinded with resentment towards himself, he only spilled words he would regret after it was too late.

“I can’t function like a normal fucking human being. I can’t be a good friend, son, or whatever the fuck else, and I sure as hell can’t love you.”

The paintballs had turned into a singular sword. A very long, very sharp sword that had found itself plunged deep inside her chest. How did he found out? When? Had she been too obvious? Had she been pushy? Clingy? Way out of line? The woman before him was unable to conceal her shock, as tears came rushing down her hot cheeks. Her voice brittle, she tried defending herself. She couldn’t leave it at that. She had to try. Try to have him see reason. “You don’t love me, that’s fine. But you didn’t have to deliver it this way-”

“But I did.” breathless with fury, Corpse clenched his fists so tight they had turned cold, yet they were still trembling. “You can get so naïve and dumb, you won’t understand things unless they’re spelled out nice and fucking bold for you.”

He closed with (Y/N) until their noses nearly touched. He noticed the way she silently shook, her eyes which shed endless tears never leaving his gaze. Unable to make a single sound, she felt the man’s hot breath on her face, his aura domineering.

“Now get. out.”

Her body wouldn’t cooperate as she just stood there. Staring back at him, her inner brows raised. Corpse wanted to hug her. Envelop her trembling figure with his and tell her he was sorry, that he meant none of it, that he had lost his mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. And with his own tears threatening to spill, he created a distance between them. He needed her gone.

“Leave! GO!”

His yelling was enough to jolt (Y/N) out of her trance, and, in a hurry, she sprinted towards the entrance. The door closed behind her, she felt a sudden urge to fill her lungs with much needed air. She jumped at the resounding scream that emanated from deep within his soul, letting out all of his pent-up rage.

Feet carrying her all the way to her car parked outside of the building, the young woman managed to climb in, and this was the queue for her body to break down. The night was young. The street empty. No one around to hear her long-lasting wailing. She clutched the steering wheel for support, fingers wrapping around the leather in a tight grip. A headache was creeping up from the back of her skull. Her ears pulsated in response to the heavy pounding of her heart. Clumsily, (Y/N) inserted the key into the ignition, felt around for the gear stick, and drove away. She didn’t know where she was going or how long it was going to take to get there. She needed to get out.

What went wrong? When did it go wrong? She couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel at fault. She had never seen that side of him before. He had never treated her that way before.

It was the hugs, wasn’t it? He had to have noticed the way she held on for a second too long to enjoy the smell of his cologne. Her vision blurred as she resumed softly weeping, her salty tears staining her top. Or it might have been the touchiness, she would practically glue herself to him during their movie nights. Unaware of both her actions and surroundings, (Y/N)’s breathing quickened, becoming ragged. Maybe he didn’t like the way she called him three times a week. Her hands were slowly losing control over the wheel, over the vehicle she was driving. She invaded his privacy. That was definitely it. Fuck. How could she have been so damn blind, selfish, ignorant, FUCKING STUPID.

Lights. Something was moving towards her- MOVE.

With a sharp turn, she dodged the approaching car just by a hair’s breadth, but as she had avoided one accident, another came just as quickly.

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse x you #corpse husband x you #corpse husband fic

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animalkingdom-an0nymous · 4 years ago

Text

False God- Sean Wallace

Disclaimer: No gifs or photos are mine unless stated otherwise.

Warning: A violent, smutty NSFW Sean Wallace fic. What if that last day ended differently? What if Sean made it out with his wounds? And what if there was someone from his childhood who haunted him just as much as he haunted her?

Subject: Sean X Y/N

Growing up, Sean Wallace and I were one in the same. We liked the same jokes, ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut the same way- in triangles- and our only real difference was that I was an American. Our fathers, both legendary crime bosses in their own right, were great business partners and made each other filthy rich. We were dangerously similar.

Until we weren’t.

I’d been in America when Finn Wallace was murdered, and I’d stayed in America during the aftermath. My father had cared deeply for Finn, but the world we lived in was fucking brutal, cold, and my dad would never risk my well being by allowing me to go to the UK to be with Sean.

Hearing about all of it had been a nightmare, though. Hearing about murders and the carnage, communities and families wiped out when Sean locked the city down. My heart ached for the boy I once knew and feared for the man that was, and then, just as quickly as it all blew up, the flames went out. All was quiet.

Sean Wallace was dead.

Or so the world thought. My father, who had an in with Billy and Jac, knew the truth. The Wallace family had connections within the police force- cliché, right?- and when a few of their own found him lying in a pool of his own blood, bleeding out from his fucking face, they quickly pronounced him dead at the scene. I didn’t know the ins and outs, didn’t care to, because the life I lived now was so far from the life I was forced to live as a child. All I knew was they got him out of there and Sean Wallace, as London knew him, was dead.

I needed him to stay that way.

It had been nearly a year since then, nearly a year since I last had the nerve to ask my dad about him. I think he knew how I felt, knew I had gone to great lengths to distance myself from him and my mother and the hellish, brutal life they created. But that didn’t mean my dad didn’t love me. I knew he did in his own, twisted way, and I knew he caught on to the hurt I felt whenever Sean’s name was mentioned.

So he stopped mentioning it.

Billy and Jac were stateside and living under different names, that much I knew. I had yet to see them, but I knew they were close enough to drive to because my mother had made sure to mention in her last email that their “home was beautiful and they think it was quite rude of you not to come around and visit, Y/N.”

It was bullshit. Billy and Jac didn’t feel any type of way about me, we were never close. That was reserved specifically for Sean and me. And look how well that turned out.

I was haunted by the ghost of a man I didn’t even know anymore.

He was labeled as a terrorist and maybe that’s what hurt more than anything. I could never scream from the rooftops how much I fucking loved him because that’s crazy. Because who could love a terrorist? Who could love a man that had murdered, cheated, stolen to get his way? And if I did love him, what kind of woman did that make me?

It was a thought that had been in my mind on replay all day long, the musings drifting into the night as I drove towards my childhood home. I had made the agreement with my parents- namely my father- that once a month I would return home for dinner. It was nearly a two hour drive but one that I committed to because if I didn’t I knew they would show up at my apartment. And what twenty-something year old woman wants her parents showing up at her apartment unannounced?

The gravel ground under my tires as I pulled my all black BMW into the driveway. It was already dark and I knew my mother would have something to say about me showing up late, but at least I showed up. Sure, I was still wearing the navy blue pantsuit I’d worn at work all day and I usually changed whenever I had dinner with them, but my mind was occupied tonight. By thoughts of Sean. By thoughts of Sean getting his face blown off. Did it hurt? Did he remember? Would I ever know?

My father met me at the door. Six foot three and wide like a linebacker, the man was not to be messed with. He was no nonsense and the only people he smiled at were me and the people he was going to shoot right before he shot them. You can do what you want with that information.

“My little angel,” he said and reached for me, taking both my hands in his and bringing them to his lips. It was a simple gesture but one he did every single time. It was the one constant my dad ever provided me. “How was the drive up?”

“Traffic wasn’t too bad tonight, but I ended up getting out a bit later than I thought I would.”

He swung an arm around me as we made our way through the marble foyer, my heels clacking against the floor. “My art gallery owner. Your mother and I are so proud of you.”

I raised my eyebrows. He was feeding me bullshit, both he and my mom wanted me in the family business more than anything, but from the time I could voice my opinion I let them know. No. I would be taking no part in the family business.

Not that I didn’t know my shit. I knew my way around a gun shop and had a better shot than half the men my dad hired to protect us. I hit harder than my first two boyfriends and let everyone know that my last name was still my last name and not to fuck with me. I knew I was untouchable.

That didn’t mean I was embracing the lifestyle.

“Yeah, business is going great, I even hired someone part-time to help out.”

“Background check?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Of course.”

“Family ties?”

“Her name is Mindy and she’s from a farm in rural Kansas.”

He paused and raised his eyebrows, one of the rare times my father ever looked shocked. “She doesn’t even know what our last name holds, does she?”

I shook my head. “Not a clue.”

He laughed his hearty, deep chuckle and stopped us at the bar cart outside of the dining room. As always, he grabbed two tumblers and threw a handful of ice in each before adding to fingers of whiskey. Our favorite. One of our few commonalities. “Proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks, dad.”

I was about to ask him how his week was when my mother’s voice drifted in from the balcony. She liked to drink her wine out there at night, before dinner. Just one glass, but it was a ritual she followed religiously. Her voice was somewhat raspy, a little cold, and I could hear her laughter as though it was wrapping around me like a vine.

But that was the thing; my mother drank her wine outside alone. That was her time. So who was she laughing at?

I glanced over my shoulder at my father to find him looking as though he was at a loss for words. It was so rare that he was speechless, a man of his stature always held a level of composure that was sometimes shocking. But not this time.

“Dad, wha-“

“You’re going to want to finish that drink, angel.”

My blood ran cold at his words. His tone was low, suddenly serious. The lighthearted moment from before was gone, something dark and heavy in its place.

I should have listened to him and finished the drink because as soon as I turned around I was met with the coldest, most pristine set of blue eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that I once swore I would drown in someday.

Sean Wallace was standing eight feet in front of me. It was the first time we had seen each other in years, the first time I’d seen him since he was… dead.

His face was… fucked. Marred by the bullet that ripped through his left cheek on that fateful day. The skin was raised, almost burn-like, and left a medium sized indent in what would otherwise be a perfectly symmetrical face. His left eyelid held a little lower and it looked like he tried to cover up the other, minor scars with the facial hair that littered his jaw and around his mouth.

But even with the new, broken face, Sean Wallace was still the most breathtaking man in the room. His suit was impeccable and fit him like a glove, the stormy gray matching the storm that seemed to be raging in his eyes. His tie was a navy that matched my own suit and it felt like the universe was pointing at me and laughing. It felt like that bitch was having the time of her life watching me suffer.

“I…” I started, unsure of how to finish.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I know this” he held a hand up to his face “is a lot to take in.”

I already shook my head, my stomach turning at the thought of him thinking he was ugly. “No! No, I… I, I’m, I wasn’t-“

“Best private schools in the state and she still has that damn stutter.” My mother’s cutting voice ceased my own and I bit at the inside of my cheek. She came around the corner in all her glory, designer dress, perfect manicure and not a hair out of place.

She made me fucking sick.

“It’s nice to see you.” I finally managed to get the words out, although I didn’t know if I was talking to Sean or my mom.

“Jesus, Y/N, you couldn’t even change first?”

“I think she looks great.” Sean’s voice caught everyone off guard and even my mom turned to look at him. “Beautiful, really. You always looked great in a suit.”

I knew he was referring to my high school graduation. Sean was two years older and had flown in to see me graduate. My mom, ever the lady, was determined to force me into a nightmare of a ball gown while I wanted a simple, chic suit. Sean had been there for the entire screaming match, laughing at my mother as she tripped over the dress she had been hellbent on making me wear.

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged my lips and nodded at him. “Thank you.”

He nodded in return and said nothing else.

“Let’s eat, shall we?” I felt my dad’s hand on my back as he ushered me into the dining room. My feet felt like stone blocks were attached to them as I walked, feeling Sean directly behind me with his eyes burning holes into my suit jacket.

We all sat in silence with the ghost of my past sitting directly across from me. Sean made no secret that he was staring at me and it reminded me of the ignorant young boy I once knew. Sean knew he was handsome, powerful, and could easily get his way. He held himself with the confidence of a man who had everything and it seemed a gunshot to the face didn’t change that.

“You’ve managed to stay under the radar.” I noted as one of the maids poured red wine into my glass.

“Y/N!” my mother scolded.

I raised my eyebrows and didn’t glance in her direction, my eyes holding Sean’s. “What? Are we supposed to sit here and pretend everything is normal? You want me to ask him about the weather?”

“Y/N…” my father’s tone held a warning in it.

“No, she’s right.” Sean spoke up as I took a hearty gulp of wine. “Facial reconstruction had me laid up for a bit. Reconstructing an entire cheekbone can be tricky. And expensive.”

I nodded. “Especially when the entire cheekbone belongs to a dead man.”

The room fell quiet with even the staff scurrying to disappear. My mother was glaring at me and I was sure my father was too, but I didn’t care. I’d spent my entire childhood and teen years caring about and loving Sean only for him to cut me off when he became Finn’s minion and then fake his own fucking death a few years after. He got so caught up in the Wallace life, in the life I thought we both hated, that he forgot about me. And I was angry about it.

“I deserve that.” His accent was the same as always. Smooth. Elegant. The best that private school could buy. “I should have reached out sooner as I knew my siblings were in touch.”

My mother, the martyr, was quick to reassure him. “Sweetheart, you don’t owe us anything. We’re just so happy you’re alright.”

She was so warm with him, a complete contrast to how she acted with me. It was a constant reminder that she always wanted a son and ended up with me instead.

My father opened his mouth to speak when his right hand, Marcus, walked in with a phone in his hand. His face looked pinched, stressed, and my father immediately stood. “Excuse me.”

Sean nodded politely and turned to my mother, but she was already standing and following behind dad, sensing his stress.

“Should we be concerned?”

I shook my head, my eyes still trained in the doorway. “I doubt it.”

Things were quiet then. Too fucking quiet. So quiet I felt like I was suffocating. I took a sip of wine. Then another. Another until my glass was empty and the bottle was taunting me from the center of the table.

“You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” I was instantly defensive.

His smile was small, but it was there. “You always were a shit liar.”

“You were always a good one.”

His smile disappeared then and I was soon sitting across from the gangster that was always lurking underneath. Sean could do cool, calm, and collected. But he could only hide the angry, arrogant Wallace traits for so long.

“I… can’t remember the last time we were face to face.”

I shrugged my shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable. “Christmas. Six years ago. Kingston.”

His smile- God, that fucking smile- reappeared. “You threw a drink in my face.”

“You called me a spoiled fucking twat.”

“You were acting like one.”

Now it was my turn to smile. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it. My early twenties were filled with vodka soda fueled arguments and boyfriends that my family- and Sean- hated. I was so different, that girl doesn’t even seem real anymore.

I was about to respond when I heard shouting coming from down the hall. My father’s office.

Sean and I stood at the same time, both of us sensing a certain level of danger. My father rarely ever shouted, it had to be something catastrophic for him to raise his voice like that.

Entering the hall, I quickly grabbed my bag next to the bar cart and produced my glock before tucking it into my waistband. Sean watched me silently the entire time. He was getting a little too comfortable with staring at me.

“Always prepared.”

“Family business, right?” I shot back at him over my shoulder as we neared my father’s study.

“No, no, fucking No! What do you mean they’re all dead? An entire fucking warehouse of people and they’re all fucking dead?”

My heart stopped in my chest. That was… impossible. The warehouses were untouchable, no one knew where they were unless they were part of our inner circle. Our microscopic inner circle. Which could only mean one thing…

It was an inside job.

“Fuck.” I spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Y/N, something’s happened.” My mother appeared in the doorway as we approached.

“Who did it?” I asked, getting straight to the point. “Any ideas?”

My dad was seated behind his wooden desk, a desk so large it was fit for a king. When I was a child I would spend hours in there reading on the stuffed leather couch while he worked silently. It was one of the few places I felt “safe” growing up.

“Kensington’s dead.” Our eyes met.

Rodger Kensington was my father’s longtime business partner and someone who was like an uncle to me. He’d been there at my prom, my graduation, and when I took my first steps. He was… family.

“Shit.” Sean’s word was quick and quiet, but then I remembered he knew Rodger too, and he knew what this meant.

“What about Sherry? The kids?” I was desperate to make sure their little ones were alright, they were all so young.

“They’re fine. They weren’t home, they-“

My father never got the words out as one of the staff walked in. I had turned at the sound of him entering the room, just barely meeting his eye as he raised his arm, a small handgun pointed directly at the man whose home we were in.

“Y/N!” My mother screaming my name like that would haunt my nightmares for months after.

A single shot rang out and my ears rang, a gasp leaving my lips as I reached for the gun in my waistband. But it wasn’t there.

The man was dead, a gunshot to the temple with crimson blood spilling all over the Italian wood floors. And then there was Sean, standing at my side with my gun pointed straight ahead, a dead look in his eyes.

It was all dangerously quiet and I could hear my own heartbeat, but only for a moment. Because as soon as I took a single breath, shit hit the fan.

My mother released a blood curdling scream, Marcus rushing to her side and grabbing her as she collapsed. My father, stoic, stood and walked over to the wardrobe near the window, swiftly pulling out guns and rounds of ammo. More security rushed in and I stood next to Sean, everything moving in slow motion. I could hear voices, hear my dad barking commands at his security who acted like his soldiers.

“There’s blood on my shoes.”

“What?”

What? Did I just say there was blood on my shoes? But it was true. My expensive cream suede shoes had blood splatter on them and I was ninety percent sure there was bone fragment near my heel.

“Blood. On my shoes.” My voice sounded far away.

Sean was suddenly in front of me and tucking my gun back into my waist while everyone shouted around us. “I’ll buy you a new pair. Bought them at the store on fifth, yeah?”

“How the fuck did you-“ I stopped, putting two and two together. “Have you been watching me?”

Sean’s face changed then and he straightened his shoulders. Our height nearly matched but only because of my heels, and I knew his gesture was dominant, authoritative. “I promise we can talk about that later, but-“

I pushed past him and walked towards my father who was barking orders into a phone. “Did you have Sean keep tabs on me?”

“Y/N, this isn’t the time for you to complain about your independence.”

I slammed my hand down on the wooden desk the same way I had watched him do it so. Many. Times. “Answer me!”

My father, all six foot three of him, stood tall and looked over me even with a desk separating us. “Watch yourself, young lady.”

“What the fuck is going on that you hired someone to watch me? That you hired Sean to watch me? What aren’t you telling me?”

He paused for the briefest of moments while everyone moved around us. I could hear safeties being turned off, my mom screaming down the hallway, and feel Sean standing close enough that I could smell his cologne.

“I’ve known for a bit that someone on the inside was giving information to Merkov brothers. Rodger and I spent months sifting through the weeds trying to figure out who it was. We had a break last night, I was going to tell you everything-“

“Four black SUV’s were spotted five miles from the property. Moving quickly. We need to go.” Marcus had appeared in the doorway sans my mother, his face wiped of anything sort of emotion. In fact, Marcus may have been the most emotionless man I had ever come into contact with. I would even venture to call him heartless.

“Shit.” My dad scrubbed a hand over his face. “I promise I will tell you everything, angel.” He looked at me, the desk separating us. “But right now you need to go and it can’t be back to your apartment.”

“Dad, I…” I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t go back to my apartment in the city, there was most definitely a hit out on my family, including myself, and Sean Wallace was back from the fucking dead. My day was going from bad to worse, my life blowing up in a twenty minute time span.

But I knew my last name, knew the weight it carried. I knew I had a certain responsibility to handle my shit and handle it well, with my shoulders back and my chin up.

“Where am I going?”

He was already on the move and I was on his heels, following him down the winding hallways of the home I grew up in. It was the same house that was sure to be shot to shit as soon as those SUV’s showed up.

“Harbor House.” He barked over his shoulder. “You can drive down there in the charger. Tinted windows. Marcus, have Anthony load a bag into the car. Ammo, guns, everything she’ll need.”

“No one knows where Harbor House is except us.” I reminded him. His business partners may have known about the warehouses and my father’s permanent residence, but Harbor House was for family and family alone.

“I’m not taking any chances, Y/N, not with you. Sean will accompany you and you’ll stay there until you hear from me. I’ll call-“

“What?” I cut him off. “Sean’s not coming with me.”

“I’m not taking any chances with you.” He repeated.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

Sean cleared his throat behind me and I refused to look at him. I knew he was offended by what I��d said, but quite honestly I was offended by everything he had done since stepping foot in my parents’ home that day.

“This isn’t about what you need or want, Y/N. He’s going with you.”

I was about to fully lose my temper when shots rang out through the house. I reached for my glock and turned the safety off, immediately ducking behind a marble pillar with Sean’s hand on my elbow, holding me still.

There was yelling and gunshots, some of the housekeepers screaming bloody murder from the second and third floors. There was no way those SUV’s were already on the property, no way. It had to be someone else.

Someone had burned our entire fucking family.

“Dad!” I yelled as a bullet whirred past my head.

“Y/N, go! Now!” I could hear him but I couldn’t fucking see him. Marco was beating the shit out of a man dressed all in black, ripping his gun away and firing off a round into his chest. The smell of blood and gunpowder burned my nostrils and I winced.

“I’m not leaving you!” I screamed so loud my voice cracked.

“Sean!” My father shouted. “Get her the fuck out of here! Get her out now, kid! Now!”

I glanced over at Sean, warning him with my eyes not to touch me, but it was too late. He ripped the gun from my hand and wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me backwards.

“Sean, no!” I screamed, trying to pull away.

“We have to go, Y/N.” He dragged me down the hall while I fought him the whole way , dragging my feet and scratching at the suit clad arm wrapped around my waist. He finally stopped at the side door at the end of the hall and yanked it open before tossing me in.

I stumbled across the cold concrete of the garage and caught myself against the car I was supposed to be leaving in.

Sean locked the door behind him and turned to me, my gun still in his hand. “In.” He motioned to the car.

Still the same, bossy man he always was. Without responding, I turned and made my way across the expansive garage, shoving a table out of the way and yanking open the drawers of a metal cabinet.

“Y/N!” Sean was losing his temper and we were losing time.

“You took my gun!” I finally screamed back, practically growling at him as I picked up twin Berettas and tucked them into the back of my waistband. I grabbed a rifle to throw into the backseat, and one more Glock since Sean had unceremoniously stolen mine and left me empty handed.

He was staring at me as I made my way back to the car, his chest heaving. God, he still looked good. A gunshot to the face only amplified how rough and beautiful he was. Dumb fucking asshole and his dumb fucking face.

I grabbed the keys from the wall and tossed them to Sean who caught them with one hand.

Show off, I thought to myself sullenly as I got into the passenger side, my heart leaping out of my chest. I was about to leave my parents to potentially die. My childhood home was being torn apart, half the staff that knew me since I was a child were now lying dead in the same house they’d dedicated their lives to. It made me sick.

“Just focus on driving.” I told him as the garage door began to rise. I could already see the shadows of feet on the concrete leaned halfway out the window, my nine millimeter raised. One shot to the knee and a man fell, a second shot between the eyes and he was done.

The second man was smart, moved off to the side and just out of aim, and Sean floored the gas pedal while I kept watch.

“Your left.” I said quietly and pointed the gun in front of him, sending shots flying out of the driver’s side door, taking out the second man who had been waiting for us.

“Three of them in front of the gate.” Sean nodded towards the gate at the side of the property, all of them holding assault rifles and aiming at us. “Duck.” he commanded with the car still in reverse.

“What?”

“Duck.” I felt his hand grab at the back of my head he shoved me down, my forehead nearly knocking against my knee as he picked up speed. A loud blast blew out the back windshield and then there was a loud, violent thunk.

His wide palm was still resting on the back of my head, grip so tight it made my scalp prickle in a way that annoyed me. My body had no business getting turned on while in the midst of this shit.

When the tires squealed against the gravel and we went surging forward, I sat back up. I could see smoke coming out of the windows, bullet holes in the brick and mortar. It was a fucking war zone and we were on our way out, leaving behind my family and any shred of sanity I had left.

Fuck.

* * * * * *

The ride to Harbor House was almost completely silent. Sean, ever the Brit, would curse out other drivers every now and then even though ninety percent of the mistakes were his own. Maybe I should have insisted on driving, but at the time the only thing I could think about was whether or not my parents got out.

Although we were never close, I didn’t wish death on my parents. Sure, I resented them for bringing me up in a life of chaos and violence and I’m well aware they caused me a lifetime of trauma, but that didn’t mean I wanted them dead. Definitely not murdered.

It was nearly midnight by the time we arrived. Harbor House was in an exclusive neighborhood and every home had a gate. It had been years since I was last at the house, but it held the only fond memories from my childhood. Harbor House and the Wallace house always felt like home to me. Strange that I was sitting next to a Wallace and not a single shred of me felt comfortable or at home. It was strange, when we were kids he was always my safe space.

I punched in the code and black iron gates opened up, promptly closing with a loud clang behind us. The property itself was a sprawling estate with a two floor home as well as a large yard, pool, and separate guest house. It was on the edge of a cliff and overlooked the Atlantic. Isolated. Safe. Private. The kind of place my family relied on to keep us safe.

“Pull the car into the garage, we’ll get a rental tomorrow.” My voice was monotonous. I felt so drained of every emotion other than pure exhaustion. I was covered in blood, my clothes smelled like gunpowder and sweat, I needed a hot shower.

Sean silently pulled into the garage and killed the engine. We sat there quietly for a moment, so quiet I couldn’t even hear him breathing. If he had any blood on him, I couldn’t tell. From this angle he looked every bit the GQ model. It was only when he turned his face to look at me that I got a glimpse of the mauled left half and got angry all over again.

I was angry at my parents for birthing me into this.

I was angry at whoever burned us.

I was angry at Sean for disappearing from my life in favor of violence. But I was so fucking angry that he had let it go so far that the world thought he was dead.

I almost wished he was.

“There’s five bedrooms. I trust that you’ll find one far away from me?” I phrased it like a question but we both knew it wasn’t.

He gave a curt nod.

The house was exactly as I remembered it. It even smelled the same. Hardwood floors, light walls, French doors leading to a beautiful deck. A kitchen so modern it would make Gordon Ramsey cream his pants. It was the homiest home my family had. It was my haven.

Only now Sean was here to cast a shadow over it.

“There’s plenty of clothes in all the guest bedrooms. My parents like to be prepared for every emergency, you know that.”

Sean nodded as he closed the door that connected to the garage. He locked it and was quick to set the code. The code that he definitely shouldn’t have had.

“How did you-“

“Your father.”

I raised my eyebrows incredulously. “My father gave you the codes to Harbor House?”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes narrowing. “He gave me the code for the gate too, but I was polite enough to let you do it. That’s something, innit?”

He was being a smart ass, pushing my buttons on purpose simply because he could. Or because he’d had enough of my attitude. Either way, I wasn’t having it.

“You must be so fuckin’ proud of yourself. You still have an in with my father even after the shit you pulled in London. My father, Sean, not me. You don’t have shit with me and you made that perfectly clear.”

He squared his shoulders and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I sat on the edge of a beautiful cream colored sofa. I couldn’t wait to sink into it tomorrow with a good book.

I quickly fingered at the straps on my heels and kicked them off while mentally preparing for whatever speech he was about to throw my way.

“I’ve really had enough of you talking to me like I’m some shit person. Enough, Y/N.”

I stood back up, hating that I was smaller than him now as I turned on my heel and headed up the stairs. “If you hate my attitude so much then leave me the fuck alone and let me take a shower in peace.”

* * * * *

My shower was hot and relaxing and everything I needed. As soon as the steam surrounded me, I was able to calm down a bit, and once the hot water hit my skin I was able to sigh in relief. Washing off the blood and grime left me feeling like a whole new woman.

So new, in fact, I briefly forgot about the bane of my existence showering down the hall.

Sean. Showering. Sean in the shower with water dripping down his chest and into that perfect V of his hips. Sean’s hot, wet body pressed against mine. Sean’s-

“Can you not?” I said to my reflection as I ran a brush through my hair. Even when I was angry at him, violently angry, it was impossible to deny that he was attractive.

We never hooked up, not even when we were young. But there was always something there. We flirted. We toyed with each other. We got into nasty arguments. People noticed, my friends made comments. I always ignored them and played it off and said it was because we knew each other forever and just connected that way. They all argued that it was more.

I ignored them.

After changing into a comfortable pair of loose cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt, I made my way downstairs. The windows were open and I could hear the waves crashing against the cliff side. My favorite sound. It gave me peace. It soothed me.

The kitchen was empty and I grabbed a bottle of red wine with every intention of drinking the entire bottle. After pouring a rather large amount into the pristine crystal stemware my mother bought, I threw my head back and took a long, large sip.

Ugh. That’s better. I closed my eyes and took another sip, getting lost in the sound of the waves and the dark, cherry taste of the wine. A moment of peace after all the bullshit I had to endure tonight.

It was only when Sean cleared his throat that I realized I wasn’t alone. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing black sweats and a white t-shirt. Simple. Clean. Comfortable. If this had been a few years ago I would have been aching to curl up against him.

“Kitchen’s all yours,” I said as I grabbed my glass and bottle, preparing to go out back.

“You told me you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” His words cut like a knife to my retreating back and it made me pause, not yet turning around. “You fucking told me you were done.”

I knew what he was referring to. The last time we spoke had been over the phone, maybe four years ago. It had been a normal night with normal conversation and normal “I miss yous”. Sean had truly been one of my best friends and closest confidants. And then the conversation turned ugly when he informed me his father was sending him out on a seriously violent, potentially fatal, mission. Our argument had gotten vile and I said horrible things. He did too, including telling me to “stop acting like a girlfriend because you’re so fucking lonely”.

That had been my breaking point. He reminded me so much of Finn then. He dressed like him, spoke like him, became a carbon copy of him, and I was having none of it. So I had told him to fuck off and lose my number, to never call me again, to pretend I was dead.

It was the one time Sean listened to me and the one time I wished he hadn’t.

To this day, I got embarrassed when I thought about what he had said to me. The way he screamed and the way he humiliated me. Maybe I was lonely, maybe it came off as clingy, but my intentions were always good and I never thought I was a burden to him. But after that last conversation I spent years telling myself that’s exactly what I was. A burden. I checked in too much, my double texting him probably got on his nerves. Constantly complaining about our families when I knew how fortunate I was to live such a lavish life made me sound spoiled, he got tired of it. I spent years convincing myself there was no possible way he missed me and I didn’t miss him either.

“Do you even remember our last conversation?” I turned slowly to face him. “Do you remember what you said?”

He took a step forward and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Of course I do. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it- you. I’d been out drinking with my father-“

“And then turned into him?”

“Oh, fuck off then.” He shook his head, his frustration evident as he rounded the marble island in the kitchen. An expert, he seemed to know where everything was. The glasses. The whiskey.

“I’m not wrong.” I defended myself.

Sean laughed and the sound was hollow, sarcastic. He took a sip of whiskey before turning to me with a cold look in his eyes. “And I wasn’t wrong that day either. Was I?”

I scowled at him to mask the absolute hurt I was experiencing. My heart ached. He’d known he was hurting me. He didn’t care. He remembered and he didn’t care.

“Oh, fuck you, Sean.” I whispered before quickly pushing through the french doors and stepping onto the deck.

“Oi!” Sean shouted as I slammed the doors behind me, taking off down the steps, wine glass in hand.

“I’m not done talking to you.” Sean was hot on my heels.

“The conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is.” I felt long, thick fingers curl around my elbow and then he was hauling me back against him. “You say what you want to say and then think we’re done. We’re not.”

I ripped my arm back and shoved my finger in his face. “I’ve waited four years to say this shit to you!”

“So have I!” He shouted back, the vein in his neck becoming prominent. The female part of my brain wondered what it would feel like to run my tongue along that vein, feel it pulse against my mouth.

Wrong time, I thought to myself and shook my head. “You fucked off for four years, faked your own death, and now I found out my father has had you following me. I don’t know what kind of weird, stalker fetish you’ve developed, but it’s really not doing anything for me.”

Okay, maybe that last part was flat out bitchy, but at that point I didn’t care.

I drained my wine glass while I waited for his response.

“Would you like to tell me about your fetishes?”

“Sure, they all involve watching you bleed out.”

“Should have been there a year ago then, yeah?”

I didn’t have a response for that. I zeroed in on the left half of his face, the scar on his cheek. His cheekbone curved differently, probably because it was handmade, and his scar disappeared into his stubble. He looked so vastly different from the Sean I used to know. He was hardened by life, by Finn’s life. Thirty and angry and alone and legally dead.

I ached for the Sean I once knew, but this wasn’t him.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“A little more than three months.”

“Three months?” I was shocked. I’d had a tail for three months and I didn’t even know it? How embarrassing.

“You wouldn’t have known.” It was as though he could read my mind. “I’ve always been better at it than you.”

“You’re so fucking cocky.” I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or slap him, so instead I walked past him and back up the stairs, making my way back into the house to refill my glass. I knew he was following me, knew that the alcohol in my bloodstream was making me feel bold, more bold than I was sober.

Sean closed the French doors, the lock clicking with a tone of finality. I was too aware of it.

“You were shit as hide and seek when we were kids.”

“So that makes you a better spy?”

His tone was serious when he responded. “I was never spying on you. I didn’t have access to your flat. I didn’t follow you around with that ugly wanker with gray hair.”

“Leave Beckett out of this.”

“Beckett?” It was the first time his face had resembled something other than anger. He looked amused. “You’re dating a man named Beckett?”

I cocked my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “We actually aren’t discussing my dating life, we’re talking about my stalker.”

“Stop saying that. It was to and from work. Only when you were out in public.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” I finally shouted. None of what happened today was okay. Sean, my dad, the shootout. None of it was okay. “You don’t get to keep up with my fucking life when I have to pretend you’re dead!”

“Lower your voice.” Sean took a step forward.

“Fuck off!” I shouted even louder than before. “You don’t get to just come back and bark orders at me. This isn’t London, Sean!”

“Enough.” He took another step forward and I backed up, reaching for my wine glass.

He was so calm, so fucking collected while I was beginning to fall apart. I hated him for it. Fuck Sean Wallace, I wanted him to hurt the way I did. So, without thinking twice, I hurled my glass at him. Sean barely dodged it, whipping his head to the side as it soared past him and landed on the floor in a million little pieces.

He was a blur as he flew across the kitchen, growling as he slammed my back up against the wall. I cried out as searing pain sent shock waves down my back, but I was too angry to focus on it. My hands instantly went into fight mode and my fingers caught the tip of his nose as I swiped at him, but he pulled his head back, out of my reach.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He roared in my face. “Are you bloody mental?” His hands circled my wrists and he pinned them at my sides, effectively halting my movements.

Stuck between Sean and the wall, I suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Let me go.”

“The fuck I will.” He squeezed my wrists harder.

“Sean.” I shoved myself against him and he did the same thing, his face even closer than before. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, see the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. God, he was a sight. “Fuck. Off.”

His eyes zeroed in on my mouth as I enunciated the words, nostrils flaring slightly. My breasts were pressed against his chest and I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, because suddenly we were staring each other eye to eye and I couldn’t look anywhere else. I was drowning the way I always imagine I would except this time I didn’t want it. I wanted no part of it.

“Don’t even think about it.” I whispered softly.

“Or what?” Sean’s remark felt snide and childish, something I would have happily said to him had he not leaned down and slid his lips over mine. It was a light touch, so soft I barely felt it. But I still gasped because it was Sean’s lips touching mine and I hated that I liked it so much.

At the sound of my sharp intake of breath, he smirked. “I fucking knew it.” And then he smashed his lips against mine, not letting up on the grip he had on my wrists.

Sean’s tongue pushed past my lips and slid against mine, weakening my reserve just a bit. He tasted good, his scruff scratched against the edges of my mouth and I reveled in it, loving how rough he felt.

He fucking engulfed my mouth, taking complete control of the kiss and demanding that I give him more. Forgetting the position we were in, he let go of my wrists in favor of cupping my face, wide palms against my cheeks.

I should have pushed him away, should have told him to leave, but the simple truth was that Sean Wallace knew how to kiss. He kissed like a man, held my face, stroked rough thumbs over my cheekbones, and swallowed my moans. He crowded me, stood so close our torsos were touching while we made out against the kitchen wall. Our tongues touched, teeth clashed, and when I sucked Sean’s bottom lip into my mouth the groan he let out was guttural. Animalistic.

But the noise was enough to bring me back to reality and I shoved my hands against his chest, pushing him away from me as hard as I could.

Sean stumbled back and caught himself on the counter. He was just as caught up as I was, his eyes wild, cheeks flushed red.

“You’ve got some nerve.” I cleared my throat and wiped my mouth, still tasting him on my tongue.

“Me?” He had the audacity to smile, still clearly fired up. “You were the one sucking my lip like it was my cock.”

My cheeks felt hot. The way he said cock with the accent and the smirk… it murdered me on the inside. It absolutely killed me how good it sounded. “You wish.”

“Every fucking night.” Sean stepped forward again. “I think about you sucking my cock every. Fucking. Night.”

His admission left me breathless. It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. The thought of Sean laying in bed at night and thinking about my mouth wrapped around his dick lit me up. I was hot everywhere.

“Sean-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He crowded me again, this time wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me against him. “For once in your life, please, Y/N, shut the fuck up.”

Cupping the back of my head, Sean kissed me again. I wanted to fight him, wanted to tell him to fuck off, but that would only prove him right. I really did have a problem with shutting the fuck up.

So, I kissed him back. I gave it my all, twining my arms around his neck and leaning against him. Sean tongue fucked my mouth as though he’d been dying to for years, and after his admission I wondered if he had. His body felt warm against mine and feeling his fingertips glide along the exposed area of my lower back made my knees nearly buckle.

He smiled against my mouth and before I knew it, Sean was sliding both hands down, gripping my hips and hoisting me in the air. My legs locked around his waist instantly, ankles crossing at the small of his back while he carried me through the kitchen.

Our mouths never stopped touching. I’d been waiting years to kiss Sean. I’d been waiting years to slap the fuck out of him as well, but right now the only thing I cared about was keeping our mouths fused together for as long as humanly possible. I felt drunk on him, on the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

I didn’t realize we were in the living room until Sean sat down on the couch with me straddling his lap. I took the opportunity to pull back slightly, his lips chasing my own, and I smiled at the way he leaned forward. I cupped the right side of his face, loving the way his scruff felt against my soft palm. He truly was beautiful, the red-brown hair and beard, the plump mouth that spent more time scowling than smiling. His freckles, God, when we were young I could have spent hours counting them.

And then there was that scar. That brutal, obvious scar. The trauma his body must have gone through made me sick and when I reached up to run my fingers over the jagged, raised skin, Sean was quick to grab my wrist in a bruising grip.

“Don’t touch me there.”

But I wanted to. So badly. But it was clear in his reaction, in the stiffness of his body, that he was serious. Of all the limits Sean DIDN’T have, touching the left side of his face was one of them and I had no choice but to respect it.

“Fine, how about you touch me then?”

It was all the incentive Sean needed and he flipped me onto my back, hovering over me with one hand braces on the back of the couch. Our eyes held as I slid my hands down his chest, his heartbeat pulsing under my hand as I slid lower, lower still until I gripped the hem of his shirt and yanked it up. He leaned back, only for a moment to rip the shirt off his head and send it flying.

Fair skinned with broad shoulders and a tapered waist, I itched to lick the V that disappeared into his waistband. He may have been injured, but he hasn’t been resting this last year. Sean didn’t have the body of a man who rested, he had the Jody of a man who was constantly pushing himself. He was strong in every sense of the word and it made me pathetically, desperately wet for him.

“Your turn,” he said against my lips, fingers playing under my shirt and sliding along my ribs. “You’re so fucking soft.” He whispered against the skin of my cheek.

Unable to help myself, I reached down to cup him through his sweats. Jesus… Christ. “You’re so fucking not.”

Sean laughed then, but I was dead serious. Either Sean was hiding a gun in his pants or his cock was just that fucking solid. And… thick. Even through his pants I could tell. I squeezed once and he let out a guttural groan, the sound sending shock waves between my legs. I wanted that sound on a loop for the rest of my life.

He pushed my shirt up and over my head, eyes zeroing in on my breasts. “Fuck me…” He trailed off, cupping one in his hand and giving a firm squeeze as he settled his eight between my legs. I could feel him against my clit even with barriers of clothing separating us.

“I always wondered what your nipples looked like.” He licked one gently and my back arched hard, my whole body tightening. “They’re so much better than my imagination.”

Sean fastened his mouth against my nipple and he sucked, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud while I writhed underneath him. My nails scraped through his shirt hair, digging into his scalp and holding him against me. He said he had wondered what they would look like, but I spent the better part of a decade wondering what this would feel like.

Fuck, it felt good.

Sean’s hips ground against mine as he moved to my other nipple, hands roaming felt over my body, gripping my clothes thighs and sliding up my sides. Tracing along my collarbone, fingers tugging at the nipple that wasn’t getting any attention.

I felt like a horny teenager, aching to have him inside me as fast as humanly possible. My nails raked over his shoulders and he gave a delicious growl in return, leaning up and hovering over me again.

“I’ve thought about your mouth on my cock for ages, but right now the only thing I want is to be buried inside you. That okay?”

I was modding before he even finished speaking. Fuck a blowjob, fuck foreplay. I didn’t need that with Sean, not now. Right now I just needed… connection. I was almost desperate for it and it fucking terrified me.

Sean leaned back on his knees and hooked his fingers into my pants, tugging them down in one swift move and leaving me completely naked and sprawled out in front of him. His eyes raked over me and my breath hitched in my throat. He could see… everything.

“Fuck me… this body was fucking made for me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, wiggling my brows. “A bit cocky, yeah?”

“No.” His face was serious, eyes focused as they raked over my breasts, my hips, my legs, zeroing in on the spot between my thighs. Sean slid one long, thick finger over my slit and I cried out, my body stiffening. “I knew you’d be bald here.” He repeated the motion. “Been dying to see that tattoo on your thigh for ages.”

I’d gotten the tattoo when I was 20 and officially moved out of my parents house. It was one of those stupid young decisions, but I didn’t regret it. It was a snake that wrapped all the way around my right thigh, the snake’s tongue permanently engraved on my inner thigh like an invitation. Or a warning.

“And?” I asked inquisitively, rubbing a hand absentmindedly down my stomach.

“And I think this body was fucking made for me.”

His lips came crashing down on mine again and I wrapped my bare legs around his waist, loving the way his hip bones pressed into my thighs. He littered kisses over my cheekbone, an oddly sweet gesture, and then absolutely assaulted my neck, licking and biting and nipping at my collarbone until I cried out.

I reached down, yanking at his sweats and pushing them down his thighs with my heels. I was fucking dying for Sean Wallace to be inside of me, I couldn’t even breathe because I wanted him so badly. Needed him, needed to know what it was like to feel him.

“Sean.” I gasped as he braced one hand above my head, the other one gripping his cock and lining it up at my entrance. I gripped his bicep when he pushed the tip in, my nails digging half crescents into his skin.

“Sean.” I repeated his name, this time somewhat panicked because what the fuck was I doing? Was I really about to fuck him?

“Remember when I told you to shut the fuck up?” Sean’s eyes met mine and he gave one sharp, hard thrust and was suddenly inside me so deep I swore I could feel him in my cervix.

I didn’t even have time to gasp, my mouth fell open in a silent scream and Sean’s groan was something I’d think about for months. He was so deep I felt as though I couldn’t breathe, looking up at him completely frozen.

“Oh, fuck.” He finally breathed out. “That’s right, so good you can’t even speak.”

“I… hate you.” I finally managed, leaning up and catching his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging so hard he let out a groan of pain.

“You don’t hate me.” Sean pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back inside me, giving me no warning or time to breathe. But the yelp I let out was enough to make him smirk.

Cocky bastard.

Fine, I could play. Tightening my legs around his waist, I raked my nails down his back and watched his face change, jaw clenching tight. I licked his collarbone before sucking the skin there. I sucked hard and didn’t stop until I felt his fingers tangle in my hair and yank me back, forcing me to look at him.

“You’re not the fucking boss right now.” He practically growled the words, not letting up on the grip on my hair. He pumped in and out of me, my scalp pricking with a weird, pleasurable pain that left me moaning for more.

Sean’s thrusts got harder and I cried out when he hit that spot, so deep I could feel him everywhere. “Sean!” I cried his name, my breath hitching in my throat.

He let my hair go in favor of those perfect ducking fingers wrapping around my throat. His thumb pressed firmly under my jaw, I had no other choice but to look at him as he fucked me into oblivion.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He groaned, pressure on my throat tightening just a bit. “Thought about you every fucking day.”

I was instantly thrown back into reality. Everything that happened that day. The shooting. Sean coming back from the dead, all of it.

“Nope, stay with me.” Sean commanded, sensing my disconnect. He slowed his thrusts leaning down to lick at my lips lightly. It was oddly erotic and I found myself whimpering for more. “That’s it, relax for me.”

“I…” I started desperately. “I can’t. Sean-“

He squeezed my throat harder and I suddenly gasped, my air being cut off. “Relax.” His voice was oddly soothing. “You can still breathe.”

I shook my head.

He paused his thrusts, once again settling deep inside me with my legs splayed. “Yes, you can. I’m not squeezing that hard. Breathe.”

I took in a breath. It was shallow, but it was there. Letting it out slowly, I repeated the motion, Sean catching on and thrusting every time I exhaled. It all felt different like this, barely able to breathe and dripping wet onto the couch. I’d never wanted someone more and I was terrified, I’d never been “handled” the way he was handling me, treating me like I was his.

“Been waiting years to feel you come on my cock.” He groaned when he released my throat, leaning back on his heels and looking down at where we were connected. “God, you’re soaked. Made a proper mess all over me.”

I moaned because at that point words were not possible. My stomach felt tight, I felt like I was going to cry or laugh or scream. I felt like I was going crazy.

And then Sean rubbed his thumb over my clit, watching me jerk, and I knew I was done for. He did it again and again, giving me shallow strokes while he rubbed the little bundle of nerves that were certainly going to send me into a tailspin.

“Sean, please.” My back arched and I shouted, so fucking close, teetering on the edge.

“Come all over my cock so I can watch you lick it off after.”

My mouth fell open and I screamed his name, my orgasm hitting me like a ton of bricks. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling Sean lean over me and wrap an arm around my back.

He picked up the pace while I clung to him, whispering in my ear about how he’d wanted it forever, how this was his, how I was his. It was overwhelming, yet I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other than rake my nails through his hair and whisper his name over and over again in his ear.

“Fuck.” Sean’s groan was long and low, stroking into me one, two, three more times before holding himself still, his climax hitting him as hard as mine hit me.

His arms shook as he held himself over me, eventually collapsing onto my chest in a huff. We sat there silently, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff side lulling us. Sean’s right cheek was pressed against my breast and his dick was still inside me. He was as close as he could possibly be but I somehow wanted him closer. I wanted to fucking absorb him into my body, keep him there forever and enjoy the weight of him on me.

“Sean?” I whispered, wondering if he was still awake.

“Hm?”

I ran my fingers lightly over the back of his neck and delighted in his shiver. “I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

He lifted his head then, searching my face for some sort of emotion, but I forced myself to remain stoic. It took Sean fucking my brains out for me to realize how much I missed him. How much I fucking loved him. But I couldn’t tell him that, I couldn’t give him that much power over me.

“Today was the first time in a year that I was thankful that bullet didn’t kill me.” Sean’s words were honest, quiet.

We didn’t say anything after that, we didn’t really need to. In that moment we were safe, together after years of being apart, and now all we had to do was wait for word from my father. Until then, I was going to enjoy whatever time I had with Sean and I prayed I would never have to pretend he was dead again.

#joe cole #sean wallace #gangs of london #gol #smut #fic

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givemeweasley · 4 years ago

Text

First Things First pt. 1

Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Fluff, hella slow burn (there is no romance in this first part, the next part will definitely have it though)

A/N: This is the second fic I have! I’m super excited for you to read! I’m also taking requests! Also I haven’t seen the movies so everything in this series is completely based off the books. I did a lot of research for this to make sure it was as perfect as possible so give it a like and let me know what you think :)

First Things First pt. 2, First Things First pt. 3

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You remembered the first day you met him.

It was unnaturally cold outside. The English air was chill and unforgiving, something you weren’t used to. Your parents had moved you halfway across the world because they believed Ilvermorny was no longer the best wizarding education. Your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was one of the best witches in your family. She expressed the most excitement at the complete upheaval of your life to a new country, new school, and hopefully new friends. She raved and raved about how Ravenclaw was the best house. The best scholars and most successful wizards and witches stemmed from her house. Repeatedly, she told you how proud she would be if you were a Ravenclaw too. I’m a Wampus, is what you wanted to say but held your tongue. You knew your family loved you. However, it was a little much sometimes.

As you boarded the Hogwarts Express, your parents and grandmother's ecstatic faces at the prospect of your success at Hogwarts made you nauseous. You waved back at their frantic hands before finding a deserted train car and sitting next to the window. It was only a minute before the train pulled away and a field, more vibrant than it ought to be in the English cold, came into view. Your eyes flickered across the scenery as tears built up in your eyes and bitterness built up in your heart. You had devoted four years, four damn years, to Ilvermorny. You had a life there. Friends there. A home there. Of course your friends promised to write, but you didn’t know how an owl would make it across the ocean.

“Oh sorry! I didn’t realize this compartment was-” You had been so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t heard the door open. Quickly wiping your tears, you turned to face the intruder. Or intruders.

Standing before you were three boys. A pair of identical twins with red hair so stark you were surprised it wasn’t fire and a smiling boy with dark skin and even darker eyes. The redhead in the front tilted his head as he studied your appearance. You groaned internally knowing your eyes must’ve been red from crying. Great first impression. But he just smiled and stuck his hand out.

“Fred Weasley and this is my brother George. That back there,” nodding his head at the boy behind them, “is Lee Jordan our best friend. Mind if we join you?”

You bit your lip, their British accents were so...so... British. It caught you off guard despite being in England.

You then realized he was still waiting for an answer, hand extended. He started to lower his hand and grimace. Immediately, your hand shot forward grabbing his.

“I don’t mind at all.” You shook his hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

All the boys stood there frozen for a moment looking at you with wide eyes. You slowly pulled your hand back as silence reigned in the compartment. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you opened your mouth to speak. But Lee Jordan laughed before shoving his way past the twins and plopping in the seat right across from you.

“A bloody American!!” He choked out past his laughs. You barely noticed Fred and George sit themselves down in the compartment, one next to you and the other beside Lee. “I’ve got so many questions!” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

You let out a nervous laugh as you leaned back slightly. “Um…”

“How about we start with her name first, you git.” You turned, seeing the twin beside you shaking his head at his friend.

“My name’s Y/N Y/L/N.” You responded still looking at the twin beside you who had finally met your eyes.

After that bit of information, Lee didn’t hesitate. “So what year are you?”

“Fifth.”

“Why are you here?”

“My parents wanted me to come to Hogwarts-”

“Is there a wizarding school in America?”

“Yeah it’s called Ilvermorny-”

“Are there houses?”

“There’s Wampus, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Horned Serpent-”

“You have a Slytherin too?”

“What’s Slytherin-”

At that it was like a bomb exploded in the compartment. Lee, Fred, and George all took turns explaining to you the ‘disgusting, evil ways of the Slytherins.’ A direct quote from Lee. In detail they proceeded to explain how Hogwarts worked, the houses (the best being Gryffindor), Peeves, Filch, Severus Snape, etc. By the time the train began to slow down as it reached Hogwarts, you felt like you’d been there for years.

As the train finally pulled to a stop you opened your mouth. “So what if I’m sorted into Slytherin?” You asked the boys.

All of them looked at you with gaping mouths, not really knowing what to say. But the twin to your right, spoke first.

“You won’t be.” He stood up, pulling your suitcase from the shelf above you handing it into your arms.

“How do you know?” You countered as he handed you another suitcase.

He narrowed his eyes at you, tilting his head back and forth and rubbing his chin dramatically before smiling broadly and winking. “I just do.”

He finally pulled down the last thing up on the shelf, being a brown leather ball tied with white string. He furrowed his brows at it and turned to presumably ask you what it was. You snatched it out of his hands and tucked it under your arm.

“It’s a football.”

He opened his mouth to ask, but you had already squeezed past him and the other twin who was gaping at the ball too. You followed the hoard of students towards the door and outside.

“First years this way!!” A deep voice called one side of the platform while another voice directed students into carriages. This presented your dilemma. You weren’t technically a first year but it was your first year at Hogwarts. Would that mean they wanted you with the first years or were you supposed to ride the carriages with the other older students.

Fear started to creep up your spine as you internally panicked and everyone raced around you carrying their luggage, confidently making their way to where they belonged.

But you belonged in America. Thousands of miles away.

“Ms. Y/L/N!!” A shrill voice called. You lifted your head from where you had been zoning out. A small womanly hand waved over the heads of the students. She had a tall witch's hat on and a wrinkled face with deep eyes. You shifted your suitcases in your hands before making your way over to her. The area was near empty as most students had already gotten on a carriage or a boat. “Ms. Y/L/N, my name is Professor McGonagall. I will be escorting you tonight to the Great Hall and answering any questions you might have before you get sorted.” She shook your hand before waving you into a carriage beside her. It was at the front of the line of carriages. You stepped inside with your suitcases and football still clutched under your arm. Professor Mcgonagall stepped in behind you, shutting the door.

The carriage took off, rumbling down the path despite nothing driving it.

“Excuse me, professor.” She looked up smiling. “What’s driving these carriages?”

“Ah, well they’re being driven by Thestrals. Magical creatures that you can only see when you witness death.”

Your eyes widened as you nodded.

“Are there any questions you have about Hogwarts or any worries you’re harboring?” She folded her hands neatly over her robes, kindly smiling at you. It eased the worry in your heart a fraction.

“Actually, not really. Fred, George, and Lee-”

“Oh my! My dear, whatever they have told you is likely to be exaggerated due to their more… exuberant nature. Those boys, while good smart boys, can be quite the troublemakers.” Professor McGonagall smiled fondly while shaking her head. It reminded you of a tired mother.

“Well, I was wondering…” Your eyes looked directly up into the professors, “how do you tell the twins apart?”

A hearty laugh left her lips as she clutched her chest. “My dear, I’m afraid that is the one question I am unable to answer.”

You smiled, looking out of the window of the carriage. The rest of the ride passed quietly until the carriage pulled up to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall instructed you to leave your things where they were before directing you through the doors of Hogwarts. She pulled you into the Great Hall, but instead of letting you sit she pulled you off to the side.

“We have to wait for the first years so everyone can get sorted at the same time.”

You nodded thinking back to your sorting in Ilvermorny. The way the Wampus roared and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow. You chose Wampus for a simple reason, it was your favorite animal. Based on the friends you made, you had never had a reason to regret your decision. But those friends were now thousands of miles away.

You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts you missed Professor McGonagall lightly pushing you behind a small first year.

“Just follow him, dear” She nodded before turning and making her way up the hall. You did what she asked, feeling the embarrassment of being a fifteen year old following an eleven year old. Eventually you ended up in front of the entire hall. Your eyes were finally able to scan the entirety of the school. You studied the Slytherins in green, the Gryffindors in red, the Hufflepluffs in yellow, and finally the Ravenclaws in blue. Your future house. There seemed to be friendly faces throughout the entire table.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Shit. You had missed the entirety of what had been said. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. You stumbled over to where Professor McGonagall pointed to a hat sitting on a stool. As you made your way to the stool, she turned to the crowd. “Students this is Y/N, she is a former Ilvermorny student which for those of you who don’t know, is located in America.” You heard several gasps throughout the crowd and barely resisted the temptation to roll your eyes. Oh look! A foreigner! “I expect you to treat her with the utmost kindness as she is not only new to this school, but new to England.” The murmurs in the hall had gained volume as people whispered about the American girl.

You grabbed the hat from the stool before sitting down and looking at the hat. It winked at you. You almost dropped it right then, before realizing the entire school was watching your every move.

You placed the hat on your head, nervously glancing up at Professor McGonagall before the hat sank over your eyes.

“Ah, well this is new!” The hat spoke. The hat spoke. “Well, yes I can speak. I can also sing. But alas my job is to decide what house you belong to, American girl. Hm. It appears you were chosen by both Wampus the warrior and Pukwudgie the healer when at Ilvermorny. However, your grandmother was a Ravenclaw when at Hogwarts… but what do you want, Y/N?”

The hat asked you a question.

“Yes, the hat asked you a question!”

“Um, I suppose…” It was a no to Slytherin, the boys had made that much clear. Oddly enough, you didn’t know if you wanted to be a Ravenclaw either. If you were going to be hauled across the world to go to a school you didn’t want to go to, you were going to make your own path.

“I knew it.” The hat laughed joyfully before shouting. “GRYFFINDOR!”

You assumed that was your cue as you pulled the hat off. Cheers were ringing through the hall as groans left the lips of a few others. You stood placing the hat back on the stool, looking to Professor McGonagall for further instructions.

“Well, go join your new house!” She smiled happily before waving you over to the table. You nodded, walking down a few stairs before making your way over to the long table.

“Hey! ‘Merica! Down here!” A familiar voice shouted. You looked over seeing one of the twins waving. Feeling a sense of relief you hurriedly made your way over to him.

He slid over making space for you between himself and his twin.

“Welcome to the best house, ‘Merica!” He laughed slinging an arm over your shoulder.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed. “That’s not my name.”

“It is now.” Lee winked from across the table.

You turned to the twin with his arm over your shoulder narrowing your eyes. “So are you Fred or George?” His other hand not slung around your shoulders slapped against his chest dramatically.

“I’m offended, woman! You should know that I am the great Fred and he” Fred said pointing behind you, “is the great George.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually.” A girl responded from next to Lee. “I’m Angelina, by the way. And I, unlike these gits, will call you by your name.”

“Thank you.”

As food finally appeared on the golden plates before you and everyone dug in, you felt...good. Safe. Normal. Like perhaps Hogwarts wasn’t going to be hell on Earth. Maybe you could actually enjoy going here. You couldn’t change the fact that you were here, but, maybe, you could enjoy it a little.

-----

You remembered the first time you both had class together.

“What do you have today?” Fred or George (you still couldn’t tell) mumbled with a mouth full of food. It was the first day of classes. You pulled out your schedule that had been handed to you earlier that morning.

The other twin snatched it out of your hands. “Arithmancy, Runes, and- George!” The twin, now identified as Fred, elbowed his brother. “She’s got Double Potions with us!”

“Looks like you're stuck with us everyday for the semester, love.” George said pointing to a few classes you shared with them the following days.

“Can’t wait.” You hid your smile behind the piece of toast you shoved in your mouth.

“You know, you never did explain to me what that- that ball was.” Fred said leaning forward with an apple in his hand.

Lee leaned in from beside you, interested. “Yeah, we were all talking about what it could be last night.”

“It’s just a ball. It’s used for a popular Muggle sport in America. My moms a muggle and she taught me how to play.” You nervously tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s the same ball she taught me with.”

“A Muggle sport?” Fred leaned back, seemingly unsatisfied. He glanced at George, then at Lee. “Wanna teach us?”

You laughed. “Maybe. I’ll have to see how well you play Quadpot first before I trust you with my football.”

The boys all looked at each other with confused looks on their faces. But, of course, it was Lee who spoke up first.

“Bloody hell is Quadpot?”

For a moment, you wondered if this was going to a common occurrence. You saying something about American wizardry, everyone looking at you weird and then subsequently asking questions. Probably.

“It’s a game with a qu-”

“A quaffle? Yeah that’s Quidditch!” Fred shouted.

“What I was going to say, was it’s a quod.”

“Bloody hell is a-”

“I would answer your questions if you would stop interrupting me for Pete’s sake!”

Silence reigned over the table.

George raised a hand.

“Yes, George?” You sighed.

“Who’s Pete?”

You blinked. Then blinked again. Took a deep breath in. Then breathed out.

“It’s just a saying. Now can I explain Quadpot or not?”

The boys solemnly nodded. Fred even went as far to zip his lips and throw away the key.

“I’ll do my best to summarize. Two teams of eleven, one quod. A quod is basically an exploding quaffle from the little I know about Quidditch. The goal is for your team to get the quod in the cauldron in the center of the field. If you have the quod when it explodes you’re out. Whenever a team runs out of players the game ends. Most points win. Make sense?”

All three of them sat in silence with their jaws wide open. “That’s brilliant!” Fred and George shouted simultaneously.

“Still not better than Quidditch.” Lee shrugged, shoving some oatmeal in his mouth.

“I mean I suppose. Do you guys play?” You asked.

Lee suddenly slapped his hands on the table. “I can’t believe we didn’t tell her!” Staring straight at Fred and George.

“We’re pretty damn good at Quidditch.” Fred smirked.

“We’ll see.” You winked, grabbing another piece of toast from the center of the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You shoved the toast in your mouth before standing and waving to the boys over your shoulder as you strolled out of the Great Hall. “See you boys in Double Potions!”

Luckily, Arithmancy and Runes went smoothly. Angelina was in both classes with you which made everything a little more comforting. Especially, when the professors went over the importance of OWLs at the end of the year. Angelina also introduced you to a few other Gryffindors in your year before classes started.

Finally, you were making your way to Potions in the Dungeons.

“Hey, look it’s the American. I heard she’s a halfblood.” You heard a sneer from behind you. You turned to see what appeared to be a second year Slytherin laughing and pointing at you. He flinched a fraction when he noticed your steely gaze on him. He had blonde hair and a mousy looking face that reminded you of the rats in Boston.

You broke out into laughter before strolling over to him.

“What are you laughing at?” He spat.

You gave him a once over. “A child who thinks he’s cool and witty by throwing some half assed attempt at an insult. If you’re gonna insult someone, maybe say something that’s actually, I don’t know, insulting?” You patted his cheek before turning on your heel and strolling into the Potions classroom, not realizing half the hall was staring at you while the blonde child fumed.

You dropped your bag on the desk closest to the back, knowing this class was with the feared Severus Snape. Suddenly two bags dropped on your left side. You looked up and knew you would see the smiling faces of Fred and George. You were still none the wiser of who was who though.

“I think I’m in love with you.” One of them said. Your eyes widened.

“Oh bugger off, I called dibs.” The other one hit the others shoulder.

You opened your mouth to respond.

“While you boys may think it is attractive for a girl to humiliate a boy younger than her, I cannot share those same sentiments and therefore,” A man pale as a sheet with greasy black hair and a hooked nose appeared over the shoulder of the twins while glaring straight at you, “five points from Gryffindor.” He made his way until he was in front of you. “I’m not surprised the American has decided to align herself with the riff raff. I can’t say I expected more from Americans. Wild eccentrics, the lot of them.” He looked down at you from over his long unseemly nose. It took you a moment for your brain to catch up with all he said. He turned to return to the front of the class.

“Hold on a sec.” You held your hand up. Snape whipped around with fire in his eyes.

“You dare ask me to-”

“You took five points from me because I had the gall to stand up for myself against someone younger than me instead of taking points from the child that you obviously heard insult me first?”

Snape opened his mouth but you decided you weren’t done.

“Also, it’s only humiliation if he’s embarrassed by his actions after I’ve called him out rightfully so. And as far as I’m concerned he should be-”

Snape had rounded back to standing in front of your table. “It is not up to you to question my judgement-”

“Your biased judgement-”

“Ten points from Gryffindor!” He shouted.

Your jaw dropped while your anger seized you. “You can’t do that!”

Snape smirked then. “Actually, Y/L/N, I can do that. I can also give you detention, which you will be serving tonight.”

“Bloody arse.” One of the twins muttered.

“Ten more points and detention for you, whichever Weasley spawn you are!” Snape snarled before whisking away to the front of the classroom. “And if anyone else has a problem with the way I handle my classroom, now is the time to speak up.” His beady eyed gaze met every eye in the class before turning to the board.

“Told you he was a git.” The twin next to you whispered.

You slumped in your seat as a small smile made its way onto your face. “Yeah. You did.”

-----

You remembered your first detention together.

“If I come back and a single speck is out of place, it will be your heads.” Snape growled.

“So we shouldn’t clean, then?” One of the twins tried his hardest not to smile.

Snape narrowed his eyes, your wands clenched tightly in his grasp. Before sweeping out of the classroom, his robes billowing behind him as the door slammed and locked.

“He’s one for dramatics.” You muttered.

The twin chuckled before nodding. “That he is.”

You turned to him. “I’m sorry you’re here. It’s my fault. I should’ve-”

“You were bloody brilliant, ‘Merica!” The twin laughed. “I’ll be dreaming about Snape and Malfoys faces for weeks!”

Heat rose to your cheeks as a smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, I guess?” You grabbed the rag and spray left on Snape’s desk as you set out to clean the desks.

“Oh, you can put that stuff up.”

You turned, furrowing your brow.

He pulled out a wand from his pant pocket. He waved it triumphantly. “It’s Georges. He let me borrow it so we wouldn’t have to clean. Genius, he is.” He turned pointing the wand at the classroom. “Scourgify!”

Smart.

However, you still sprayed the rag before lifting your shoe and wiping the bottom of it doing the same with the other rag. You then poured out half of the bottle of spray down the drain in the middle of the classroom.

The twin furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing? I just said-”

“And Snape’s going to be awfully suspicious if the classroom is clean and none of the cleaning supplies are dirty or look used.”

He looked mildly impressed.

“Also, can you please tell me which one you are…”

He started to look offended but then smiled. “Fred.” He said sliding onto one of the desks.

You smacked your forehead before hopping on the desk opposite of the one he was sitting on. “You just said that was George's wand! I should’ve known. I’ll get it eventually, I promise.”

The rest of the night was spent learning things about each other. Talking about everything and nothing. You learned he was a beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team with George being the other beater. That he had three older brothers and two younger brothers and one younger sister. His dad worked for the Ministry, which he explained was the British equivalent of MACUSA. He was obsessed with muggles and would probably love nothing more than to hear all about your football.

You told him about how you were an only child, how your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was a Ravenclaw. How you grew up in Texas before moving to Massachusetts when you were eleven. That your parents wanted to be close to you despite only seeing you on breaks. He had a lot of questions about Ilvermorny and America which you described in the best detail you could. He was especially fascinated by the size of Ilvermorny compared to Hogwarts. Which made Hogwarts seem bitesize, considering Ilvermorny was the biggest wizarding school in North America (and North America was huge).

You talked for hours until finally, you heard the quick sharp footsteps of Snape quickly approaching the door. Quickly you both jumped off the desks and grabbed rags before dropping to the floor and cleaning non existent spots right as Snape burst through the doors.

His eyes narrowed, searching the room for what you assumed was the slightest speck. Slowly, he strolled through the room wiping his fingers on random surfaces scrutinizing every inch of the classroom. He finally walked past where Fred and you were still kneeling on the ground into the store room. You frantically looked over at Fred.

“We forgot to scourgify the store room!” You whisper-shouted.

Fred smiled widely before winking and grabbing your forearm. Before you could blink, you were being hauled across the classroom. “Accio Wands!” Fred shouted as you made it to the door of the Potions classroom. The wands came flying at you from Snape's pocket as he turned, his eyes livid.

“Goodnight, Snape!” Fred called as he shut the door behind you and tugged you quickly up the nearest staircase. Your laughs following you both all the way to the Fat Lady. “Fortuna Major.” Fred whispered.

The Fat Lady smiled knowingly. “Little late to be out on a date, is it?”

Before you could respond, Fred had beat you to the punch as the picture frame swung open. “You know I would never cheat on you, my love.”

Both of you climbed inside seeing the common room was dead empty.

“Well that was…” You started.

“Fun? Thrilling?” Fred spread his arms almost as wide as his smile.

You crossed yours, tilting your head as you smiled at him. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Finally, you turned towards the girls dorm staircase stopping at the base. Fred was still standing in the same place, his arms by his side, when you glanced back.

“Something like that.” You finally responded.

“G’night, ‘Merica.” Fred called as you ascended the stairs.

Your smile followed you all the way to your bed.

-----

You remembered your first trip to Hogsmeade together.

That morning you were having a specifically hard time. Which was odd considering you’d been in Hogwarts for over a month now. Sitting in the Great Hall half a dozen owls had brought you a few letters and packages. You opened the one from your parents first.

Dear Y/N,

Hope you’re doing well! Dad got a promotion at his Ministry job (which is great news!). The International Magical Cooperation Department has really taken a liking to him! Anyway, I think I’ve finally gotten everything unpacked here and I can’t wait until Christmas for you to see your room! Grandma did tell me she was sorry you weren’t in Ravenclaw, but was glad you at least weren’t a “ooey gooey Hufflepuff.” Or something like that. I’m rambling now, but please tell me how classes have been and your friends are!

Speaking of friends, consider this an early early Christmas present. Some of your friends from Ilvermorny managed to send a few letters and packages using the mailing system (I had to explain it to your father). Anyway! Enjoy them!

Love you bunches! XOXO

Mom

A smile broke out on your face as you grabbed a random letter and ripped it open.

Hey kid,

I’m not sure how reliable this No-Maj mail thing is but here goes. Everyone misses you here. Wampus isn’t the same without our resident defender. Iris really misses you but won’t say it. She’s determined you’ll be back before the year ends. Honestly, I think we’re all hoping that. It seriously bites that you’re stuck in England with all those snob-nosed Brits. Plus, who the hell calls em Muggles? Fucking Brits…

Anyway, we won this year's first Quadpot game against the Thunderbird. It may have been the quickest game I’ve ever witnessed. Mary and Louisa were on their game, making perfect tosses to get it into the cauldron. They got new brooms this year too which were really helpful. I wish you could’ve seen it! Although, the funniest part was when Olivia caught the quod (we broke up by the way, but that’s another letter for another time) and she froze! It was hilarious. She was the last one out on the Thunderbird team. It exploded about five seconds after she caught it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. We still had six players on our team and we were up by 28. There was no way Olivia was going to make those points back. We definitely felt your absence at the party afterwards though. We had a moment of silence for our best Quadpot player before we partied hard like we knew you would’ve wanted us too.

Well, I’m sure you have plenty of English tea to drink and boys to snog just don’t forget about lil ole Danny back here in the states. I think Iris is writing you a letter. She’s writing in her book and practically hisses at anyone who tries to see what it is. Anyway we miss you and can’t wait till you come back to America.

Best,

Danny

There were tears in your eyes by the time you finished reading the letter. You had forgotten how much you missed Quadpot. How much you missed the Wampus dorms. Gossiping with Louisa, pranking first years with Danny, practicing spells with Iris, talking about No-Maj things with Thomas. Everything you’d gotten used to for four years. You put down Danny’s letter and reached for the next one.

You looked up as Fred slid in front of you.

Fred. Oh my god. I know it’s Fred.

“Fred?” You cautiously asked. Secretly hoping you were right.

He winked. “I knew you’d get it eventually.” He nodded at the letters and packages scattered across the table. “Who did all these come from?” He picked up one of the packages. “Iris Capace.” He raised a brow looking at you.

“Friends from Ilvermorny.” You bit your lip scanning the letters in front of you, trying not to cry.

You heard Fred set the package down.

“I bet you miss ‘em.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. He was usually joking, sarcastic, and goofy. But rarely gentle.

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I do.”

Fred didn’t respond for a moment. You looked up to see him glancing around the table at the numerous letters and packages. He seemed to feel your gaze on him because he looked up to meet your eyes. His smile seemed much brighter and warmer than it had ever before. It made your heart stutter.

“Well then, it’s a good thing we’re going to Hogsmeade today so we can buy them a couple of souvenirs to send back.” He stood holding his hand out after grabbing a few of the heavier looking packages. “Come on. Let’s go drop these off at the dorm so we can make it in time to Hogsmeade.”

You gathered the left over letters and packages under your arm before grabbing his hand. You realized how impractical it was to hold his hand as you walked down the table, your hands clasped together over the table. He refused to let go, though, even as you passed a few Gryffindors. They just had to duck under your outstretched hands.

After depositing your letters and packages in your room and grabbing your money, Fred walked with you to the carriages.

George, Lee, and Angelina were all waiting by one of the carriages.

“It’s about time!” Angelina shook her head despite the smile on her lips. “Thought you two got lost.”

“I bet they did.” Lee whispered under his breath as you stepped in the carriage, Fred getting in behind you.

“In eachothers eyes.” You heard George whisper back laughing quietly as he climbed in.

You ended up sitting next to Angelina. She wanted to ask you all about Adrian Pucey who had cornered you after Potions the other day to flirt with you. That conversation topic lasted you all the way into Hogsmeade, while you occasionally heard bits and pieces of the boys talking about the next Quidditch match.

When the carriages pulled up to Hogsmeade at last, Angelina grabbed your arm excitedly.

“I forgot this is your first time here!” She dragged you out of the carriage immediately pulling you towards a pub called The Three Broomsticks. “First things first, you have to try butterbeer!!”

You refrained from telling her you were from America and not another planet and you had had butterbeer before. But her excitement rubbed off and you couldn’t break her heart. So you kept that fact to yourself.

The inside of The Three Broomsticks was rustic and charming. It was warm and felt incredible coming in from the brisk cold that always seemed to linger no matter where you went. Angelina ordered two butterbeers and found a spot for you both off to the side. The table was small but perfect to fit the two of you.

“So how’s Quidditch going? I vaguely heard the boys talking about it on the way here.” You asked, taking a sip of the butterbeer. You almost forgot it was supposed to be your first time tasting it, so you made a shocked face. “This is really good!!”

Angelina narrowed her eyes at you before taking a sip of her own butterbeer. “You can lay off it now. I should’ve figured you’d had it before. My fault.” She was still smiling though, which was a good sign. “But, Quidditch has been...good. Practice is hell though. Don’t get me wrong I love being up on my broom, but Wood can talk for hours. Which means I’m exhausted by the time we end up getting up in the air.”

“That bad?” You grimaced taking another long sip.

“Especially when we have Slytherin games upcoming. I think he forgets sometimes that we want to win as much as he does. He just really wants the Quidditch cup this year.” Angelina glanced around before lowering her voice. “After losing to Hufflepuff due to the Dementor, he’s just really on edge. None of us blame Harry, of course, but it’s Woods last year and we would need to beat both Slytherin and Ravenclaw to have a shot. Not only that, but we’d have to beat them by a decent amount…” She rubbed her forehead before downing more butterbeer.

You laid your hand on the table close to her. “Angelina, you guys played really well from what I saw. You’ve got it in the bag. But there’s no sense in stressing about it now when you can’t do anything about it.”

“She’s right, you know?” You glanced up to see George pulling up a chair next to you.

“We did play well.” Fred slid another chair on Angelina’s side. It took you only a moment to spot Lee leaning against the wall nodding his head.

“But what do you say we finish our drinks and go get some of those souvenirs.” Fred nodded at you.

“Souvenirs?” Angelina asked looking at you. “For who?”

“Friends back in America. Or The States as you Brits call it.” That surprisingly caused a peal of laughter to ring from everyone.

“I reckon she’s learning!” George laughed, elbowing your side.

“We’ll make a proper Brit of you yet!” Lee chimed in.

You raised your Butterbeer. “Not a chance,” and tossed back what was left in your glass.

The rest of the day was spent (literally) on buying weird must-haves from Zonko’s and candy from Honeydukes. You were mainly excited about getting new cards from all the chocolate frogs you bought. America’s cards had famous American wizards, so being able to get dozens of new ones was exciting.

Before you knew it, you were back on the carriage to Hogwarts. Back in the Gryffindor common room examining a few of the presents you had gotten for your friends.

“I promise they work. The dungbombs are personally my favorite and if your friend Danny is half the man you say he is, he’ll love them.” Fred said as he plopped into the chair next to you in the back of the common room.

You looked up. “Danny with the three of you guys would honestly be a dangerous combination.” You held the dungbomb up in front of your face. “I know he’s gonna love these.” You peeked over the top of it. “Thanks.”

Fred smiled another one of his award winning smiles. The one that made all the girls' knees weak. “Anything for you, ‘Merica.” Then he frowned suddenly before digging in his pocket. When he lifted out a small bag, he laughed softly. “Almost forgot.” He tossed the bag at you.

You caught it midair and raised a brow.

“Saw it and thought of you.” He shrugged. With that he stood and bowed dramatically. “Well I must be off to bed, my lady. It was an honor to assist you today, I am your humble servant.” He grabbed your hand and planted a kiss on it before winking and whisking himself away up the stairs of the boys dorm. Your hand was still stuck in midair slightly tingling.

You glanced down at the bag before pulling the strings that held it closed. You turned it over and watched as a silver necklace tumbled out. The chain was thin and long, but it was the pendant that your eyes were focused on.

It was a tiny glass ball, within it was exploding fireworks.

Fred Weasley. Your heart skipped a beat as the red firework held his name before dissolving in the glass as another firework shot off.

It was stunning. You pulled the chain over your head and tucked it underneath your shirt. The pendant fell in the center of your chest. It felt warm against your heart. You pressed it closer.

At that, it was time for bed.

But you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

-----

You remembered your first goodbye.

The Great Feast had been spectacular. Also a god send considering how insane the year had been. You were honestly tired and ready to see your parents. Yet, you also were sad to leave the friends you had made. The deep friendships you had made. Something about the fear of dying has an odd way of making anyone feel closer.

You were sitting between Fred and Alicia Spinnet. Listening as Dumbledore finished awarding Gryffindor the House Cup and Quidditch Cup. Everyone around you, including yourself, exploded in cheers. Jumping from their seats, hugging each other, shouting about how Gryffindor was the best house.

Eventually you all sat down and began eating after Dumbledore sat down. The energy at your table was incomparable. You scanned your eyes over all the friends you had made. Angelina laughing from across you at some dumb joke George said from beside her. Lee on her other side flirting with Katie and Alicia. Wood on the other side of Fred raving about how excited he was about the Quidditch cup win. Harry, Ron and Hermione further down laughing like they deserved. Fred beside you, looking right at you.

“You’re not eating.” He nodded at your plate.

You shrugged. “I was just observing everyone. I’m gonna miss it, I guess.”

Fred’s eyes widened.

“You’re not coming back next semester?” He shouted. It attracted the attention of everyone around you whose smiles suddenly dropped as they stared at you.

You raised your hands. “Hold on! I never said that!”

“So...are you coming back?” Lee pointed his fork at you. “Cause if you’re not, we’ll just outright kidnap you.”

“Guys. I’m coming back! Don’t worry. Everyone can proceed to their regularly scheduled programming.”

“Regularly scheduled-” Angelina began to ask.

“Don’t ask.” You held up your hand before turning back to Fred. It seemed that after that, everyone slowly went back to their own conversations. “But what I was saying is that it’s weird living with you guys for so long and then just...not.” You shrugged now not wanting to meet his eyes. Nervous that he would think you were too clingy or weird for saying that.

But instead he nudged your shoulder with his own. “I get it. But I’m sure you’re more than welcome to visit the Burrow.”

Your face fell. He was offering you to visit his home? During the summer. It sent a warm feeling through your whole body. It was only then that you realized you hadn’t responded and Fred had misinterpreted that silence.

His hand lifted to rub his neck. “Or not. It’s not really a big deal, it’s small anyway…” He trailed off.

Your face broke out into a big grin before you laid your hand on his arm that was still wrapped behind his neck. “I’d love to.” His nervous frown widened into that familiar smile you loved so much. “My family’s going to visit America for the two months of summer but if the offer still stands when I come back, I’d love to.”

Fred slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “Trust me, that offer isn’t going anywhere.”

The rest of the meal passed in just as much joy and happiness as you could have hoped. Not a single Gryffindor had a frown or left the table hungry.

What seemed like the blink of an eye, the lot of you were crammed into one train car on the way back home. You had the window seat again with Angelina beside you. She insisted on sitting next to you on the way back.

Despite Angelina's addition, it reminded you of the first train ride to Hogwarts. The fear you felt, the longing you had for Ilvermorny, for America. Your nerves at knowing next to nothing about the people here or how the school differed from the one you were used to. But it was the knowledge of how much you had grown and the friends that had been a part of that that made you smile.

The people in the train car were your new home. Your new school mates as they drilled into your head.

“Thinking hard over there, ‘Merica? Schools over now, you don’t have to do that.” Lee said tossing the football your way.

You caught it without thinking and tossed it to George. “Some of us like to use our brains year round, Jordan.”

Angelina snickered as she caught the ball from George and tossed it back to Lee.

“Hey! Am I chopped liver?” Fred shouted, raising his hands.

“Sorry Fred!” Angelina winced, although you saw the hint of a smile lingering on her lips.

Your friends were batshit. But you loved them.

You tossed the football back and forth, while talking about your summer plans until the train pulled in the station. Everyone stood up and began grabbing their suitcases (or trunks as they insisted calling them) from the shelves above.

You tucked the football under your arm as you followed Angelina out with your suitcases in hand. You could hear Fred and George laughing about something from behind you. Finally you made it on the platform and spotted your parents' kind faces. You raced towards them and dropped your suitcases at their feet along with the ball as you threw your arms around their necks.

“I missed you guys!” You smiled as you pulled back to see their smiling faces.

“We missed you too, sweetheart.” Your mother cupped your cheek with her hand. She glanced behind you. “And who are these lovely people?”

You turned seeing Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee all standing there smiling at you. Your heart melted a little.

“Mom, Dad, these are the people I’ve been telling you about.”

“Oh, so you’ve been writing about me to your parents, have you?” Fred winked. A blush rose to your cheeks before you could stop it.

Your mom laughed before outstretching her hand. “Well, it’s nice to officially meet you bunch. I’m Mrs.Y/L/N and this is Mr. Y/L/N.” They each took turns shaking her hand before she spoke up again. “I do believe you’re Angelina, you must be Lee, and I would have to be stupid not to think you were the identical twins George and Fred?”

At that everyone's eyes widened, including yours. George and Fred? That sounded so… so… wrong.

Fred said, “It’s Fred and George,” the same time George said, “Right you are!”

You shook your head before stepping away from your parents to give each of your friends a hug and saying goodbye.

Angelina promised she’d write before she slipped away to leave with her parents. Lee made eyes at the football as he hugged you, and it took a promise that you would buy him one in America that finally satisfied him before he left as well. Fred and George were a little different. George hugged you tightly and messed your hair up a bit.

“We’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer I hear?”

“That’s the plan.” You glanced over at Fred. You felt George’s eyes follow your own before he laughed quietly.

“I get it. I know who your favorite Weasley is.” He winked before letting you go.

You grabbed his arm. “It’s you. Don’t tell Fred.” You winked back as he laughed all the way back to his family.

Finally, Fred pulled you into a tight hug. Your best friend.

“I’ll miss you.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Oh and here I was thinking George was your favorite Weasley.” He pulled back enough to look at you. You bit your lip to withhold the smile creeping in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes narrowed. “Mhm. Sure you don’t.” Fred shook his head before pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’ll miss you too, ‘Merica. But I’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer. Might even have a surprise for you.” Just like his brother, he sent you a wink, and turned to return to his family.

You stood staring after him for a minute before you realized your parents were a couple yards behind you. You turned, the blush still hot on your cheeks.

Your dad had your luggage in his hands with a smirk on his face, one of his brows raised. You reached down grabbing your football before following your family to the brick wall.

“So I’m assuming that one was Fred?” Your dad chuckled. If your blush could get deeper it would’ve.

“Oh hush! She’s embarrassed already at her parents seeing her crush!” Your mom slapped your dad's arm. Your parents started bickering then like young lovers. You tuned it out the closer you got to the wall. Your dad was the first to walk through, followed by your mom.

A slight tug pulled in your gut before you stepped in the brick wall. You glanced back looking for those familiar brown eyes. It took you only a moment before you found them. Already looking at you. His lips tugged up into a smile as he lifted his hand.

If there was a fraction of anxiety going into the summer, it was gone then. That safe comforting smile of Fred Weasley always did you in. You lifted your hand and smiled back before confidently turning and walking through the wall.

As excited as you were to see your friends in America again, you secretly knew your heart would be thousands of miles across the sea in a small house in the country.

#fred weasley x reader #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley #George weasley #Angelina Johnson #harry potter #Hogwarts #Harry Potter fic #imagine #Fred Weasley imagine #fw #x reader #First Things First

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