#and her painting the old diner door and doing her best to remember them and praying she will get to see one of them

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

Killjoy Day of the Dead where the ‘joys spray paint paths of their friends’ favorite colors to help lead them home. Where the Mailboxes are flooded with letters and gifts to loved ones. Where killjoys remember their loved ones and celebrate their lives. Where they give offerings to the dead and to the Witch in hopes that their friends will be able to visit them that night. Where the Witch guides the dead along the painted paths to the people they called home, so they’re not alone reading their letters and opening their gifts. Sometimes the Witch brings them all of the way back for that night, sometimes not. There is always next year, and the knowledge that your friends are there, even if you can’t see them.

Just. Killjoy Day of the Dead guys.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙10

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, angry Andy, hormones

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Another update? Who is this bitch actually trying?

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The bus chugged down the city streets as you sat closer to the back. You stared out the window and watched the grey sky of Nelson hanging overhead, a cloudy backdrop to the smoking city. 

You sighed every now and then, trying to forget the beeping and when it stopped. You still felt Andy’s hand on your back and the suffocating silence of the drive home. The burden of the dead woman on your shoulders.

It was as if it had been years since you saw the slightly crooked pole that held the bright sign. The bus stop was as desolate as ever, the dirty bench marked with spray paint and the shelter glass cracked. You set off around the corner past the house. Each was familiar but not comforting.

Your hips hurt from the stiff ride and you rubbed your stomach. You wore one of Andy’s hoodies under your open jacket, the zipper of the latter no longer meeting. You stopped in front of your parents’ house. You hadn’t asked permission; not from your mother, your father, or Andy. There was no courtesy phone call so you hesitated, afraid you might be sent away.

It was noon. Your father would be in the garage. He always had some project going. That was his work. He was cheaper than any other mechanic in the city, he just did it all from home. He could recycle parts from the junkyard and charge half price. They usually did better than the newer parts sent away for down at the Jiffy.

You walked up the driveway, the garage door was only halfway open, the bite of the late autumn, rather the early winter, mingled with the warmth flowing under the metal. You tapped on it with your knuckles, “dad?” you called.

You stepped back as his oily hands gripped the bottom and he hauled it up entirely. He tilted his head at you but couldn’t hide his smile. He looked at your stomach and you dropped your hand. He drew you to him before you could react. He hugged you tight and rocked you.

“Your mother’s gonna be mad you didn’t call before you came,” he let go of you and looked you over again.

“Mad that I’m even here,” you remarked.

“No, she might act like it but…” he waved you into the garage and rolled over the little stool he sat on when he was working. He helped you sit and put his wrench on the plywood table against the wall, “she missed you. We both did.” he wiped his hands on his jeans, “you could have called us. You know how she is. She feels before she thinks.”

“She kicked me out,” you felt precarious on the little rolling stool, “you let her.”

“So why’d you come back?” he asked.

You hung your head and hugged your stomach, “well, I’m having your granddaughter. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone but me.”

“It’s a girl?” he grinned.

“Sorry, wish I could give you a boy to get all filthy in this place,” you shrugged.

“You never minded getting your hands dirty,” he neared and grasped your shoulder.

“Yeah, guess it doesn’t matter too much, she’ll be as curious as any kid,” you said.

You were quiet as you looked around. Your dad’s rolling chest of tools was dented and rusted, the same one he’d had your whole life. The place hadn’t changed, only the car sitting in it.

“That’s not the only reason you’re here,” he said. Your father was a simple man but he wasn’t dumb.

You frowned and felt a prick in your eyes. The hormones, you told yourself, they were getting to you.

“I need you guys,” you said quietly, “is that so bad?”

“I missed you, you’re mom did too, she’s just stubborn. Think that’s where you get it,” he turned his hand over and held it out to you, “but she won’t turn you away.”

“You sure?”

“I won’t let her. Not this time,” he bent and took your hand, “now come on.”

You let him help you to your feet and he led you through the side door into the house. You heard your mother’s old Patsy Cline CD droning from the box speakers on the shelf as she muttered to herself. 

Your dad kicked the dirty off his boots and you slipped your own off. You followed him and peeked over his shoulder as he went to the living room. Your mother was wiping down the framed picture from your high school graduation.

“I got a surprise for you,” he announced as he stepped aside and beckoned you in alongside him, “and she’s got a surprise for you.”

Your mother turned and froze. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced you. She didn’t say anything as he stared at you then tossed the dusting cloth onto the table beside the lamp. She looked down at your feet.

“You remembered to take your shoes off,” she said.

Your lips parted and your chest gripped. She was still mad.

“You remembered us,” she swept over to you so quickly, you flinched. She hugged you and her middle met yours. She let go and looked down at your stomach. Her eyes were sad but not angry, “I’m…” she lifted her head and met your gaze, “I’m not good at saying it but I’m sorry.”

You watched her for a minute. She was still her mother as nasty as she’d been. You could see her regret and it coupled with your own. It didn’t fix everything but for her, it was a lot.

“I’m sorry too,” you breathed, “it was… me being stupid started all of this. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“You gotta tell her,” your dad intoned.

You glanced at him then back to your mom. You gulped, “we found out yesterday, it’s a girl.”

“We? And where is… he?” your mother bristled.

“Working,” you said.

“We went to the diner, they said you quit. The café too,” your mom batted away lashes, “please, sit.” She touched your stomach, “you’re so big.”

“Five months, I think,” you said as you let her take you to the old floral sofa, “and the doctor recommended I take it easy so I had to… leave.”

“Oh? Is something wrong with the baby?” she picked up her cloth again and resumed her dusting. Your father quietly excused himself.

“No, just me,” you leaned against the arm, “but they said my blood pressure is getting better, just have to check it now and again.”

“And that man? The least I can say is at least he’s taking responsibility, even if he is married,” your mom hung the picture back on the nail.

“It was a mistake,” you said, “but you know, I think it’s taught me a lot. Not that it was worth it.”

“I don’t mean to rag on you, but… it’s just not how it should be,” she went to the television stand and focused on the edges.

“You think I don’t know that. Mom, I didn’t come here to argue my morality. I came here…” you paused as you felt your phone buzz. You slid it from your jacket pocket and checked the ID; Andy. You ignored it and dropped it back inside, “I just wanted to see if you had any interest in your granddaughter.”

She spun back and her face wrinkled with sadness. She twisted the cloth and retreated to the rocking chair and sat. She chewed her lip and looked at the floor. When she looked at you again, her brows crinkled.

“I’m trying,” she said, “but what you did, I don’t know if I can’t get over that. That man, everyone knows him, and when it comes out, with his wife still in a coma, you don’t think about what that does to us.”

“Well,” your throat constricted and you held back the hot tears bubbling behind your eyes, “she’s not anymore.”

“What?”

“She… she passed last night,” you sniffed, “and I’ll admit that I came here as much for me as you. I just needed… needed to get away. Just for a little.”

Your phone went off again and you grunted as you pulled it out and swiped away the second call from Andy. You kept the phone in your hand and rested it against your thigh.

“I just need time,” your mom leaned back heavily.

“Well, it’s quickly running out,” you replied, “she’s gonna be here soon enough.”

“I know,” she said grimly, “I know.”

There was another silence and your phone twitched. You turned it over and checked the message on the screen; ‘why don’t you invite your parents for dinner if you’re not gonna answer me?’ You let the phone slip between your legs and slowly raised your eyes. How did he know?

“I can go, if it’s too much,” you said, “I didn’t expect to get past the front door, honestly.”

“It’s not-- you’re still my daughter,” she uttered, “and even if it’s not the best situation, you got my granddaughter too.”

Your phone began to shake between your legs and you huffed, “sorry,” you stood with effort as you snatched the phone up, “just a second.”

You went into the dining room and answered. You hissed into the phone, “what do you want, Andy?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?” he asked sharply.

“How do you even know? You following me?” you kept your voice low.

“I know, that’s all,” he retorted, “it is… surprising.”

“They’re my parents,” you scowled at the tabletop as you leaned on a chair.

“Mine, too, right? Considering--”

“Andy,” you warned, “come on. Let’s cut this out--”

“Invite them for dinner. You’re right. Our kid will need her grandparents,” he interrupted, “I’ll get off early and help.”

“I don’t think--”

“Invite them,” he demanded, “and don’t take the bus back. I’ll send you the money for a cab.”

“Jesus, I can take care of myself--”

“No, you can’t, which is why you’re sleeping under my roof. And this isn’t about you, it’s about the baby,” he exhaled and you heard a squeak of metal, likely a chair, “Now I want you home by two. I’ll be there shortly after.”

He hung up before you could argue. You closed your eyes and forced down the angry bile in your chest. You shuttered and tucked the phone back in your jacket. How did he know you were there?

🌙

Your parents agreed to dinner. Your mother wasn’t subtle that she was curious to see Andy’s house. Her judgement was always her driving motivation and you were certain she could find something to hate, even in the suburban utopia. 

You took the bus out of defiance and brewed with anger as you got off just outside the cul-de-sac. You walked the single block to Andy’s and paced like an angry lioness inside.

He arrived at three, just after. Your anxiety boiled with anger and you stopped to face him as he entered. You watched him put down his briefcase and hang his long black coat. Your nostrils flared as you braced yourself for the onslaught ready to spill forth.

“So, you weren’t following me?” you challenged.

“I was working,” he said quietly, “to pay for all of this…” he pointed to the ceiling, “and that,” he pointed to your bump.

“No, Andy, you don’t get to do that every time,” you snarled, “how did you know?”

He didn’t answer and brushed by you. You followed him into the kitchen as he went to the coffee machine and pressed the buttons bluntly. You watched him from a foot away, your hand on the cold marble.

“You can’t just ignore me. How did you know I was there?”

“Because…” he grabbed a mug and filled it with water. He poured it into the machine and snapped the lid shut, “because you have my baby and I have a right to make sure you don’t take it from me.”

“That’s not an answer,” you sneered, “Andy, I have done everything you’ve wanted. I have stayed here, I have quit my jobs, I have kept this baby for you, and you… you’re what? Tracking me like a dog?” You reached into your back pocket and slammed your phone on the counter. You slid it over to him, “when did you do it?”

His jaw ticked as he put a pod into the machine and hit start. He tapped his fingers on the counter and let out a long breath through his nose. He turned to you and crossed his arms.

“After you stayed out that night. I couldn’t worry like that again. I had to know,” he said staunchly, “because I’ve had a wife go out and not come back. A child--”

“I’m not your wife and I won’t ever be. This child is all we have in common,” you rebuffed, “even after last night. What you did, that doesn’t change things.”

You nearly tripped as he marched towards you. He had you against the far wall, his hand planted on either side of your head as his anger rippled across his forehead and set his jaw square. You pressed yourself against the pure white wall and tried not to wither.

“I did that for you,” he breathed, “I’ve done everything for you. Don’t act like you’re the only one doing shit.”

“Andy, get away--”

“No,” he punched the wall and you gasped, “my wife is gone. Jacob is gone! This is all I have; you, my daughter…that’s everything and I will be damned if I’m going to let you take any of it away from me.”

“You’re scaring me,” you wisped, “Andy, please--”

“No, you shut up and you listen. This is the last time we have this conversation. Your parents are coming and you’re going to be good. You’re going to wear something nice, you’re going to cook something good, and you’re going to smile. You don’t let them see you crack, not once.”

“You can’t--”

“Enough!” he hit the wall again and you heard it crumple under the force, “if you don’t, they won’t be around. Ever. Do you understand me?” you gaped up at him and trembled, you shook your head in disbelief. He leaned in and spoke softly to you, “Understand that I will make sure you and no one else ever sees them again.”

“You… wouldn’t…”

“I could. I will. You’re fucking bitch of a mom deserves it,” he hissed, “so, honey,” he growled the second word, “what’s it gonna be?”

Your lip quivered and you searched his face. The rage had his blue eyes alight and his breath rasped out like animalistic snarls. You thought of Laurie, of how blank he’d been when they stopped the machines. And that smile, after. What was that?

“I’ll… be good,” you murmured, “I will.”

His lips twitched and he shoved himself away from you. He stomped over to the fridge and took out the light cream. He added it to his mug of fresh coffee and stirred. You stood straight shakily and looked up at the hole beside your head.

“Well,” he said, “better figure out what you’re making for dinner. Our guests won’t be long.”

[rudystopit]

Looking for Someone

[aizawa x f!reader]

summary: aizawa is a PI looking a missing person. he notices a young women looking around the places the missing person was last seen. he starts following her.

warnings: nsfw, eating out, brat/tamer, unprotected sex, and overstimulation. 

wc: 5k

He sat inside his car. He would never the noticed the nasty smell of rotting food and his own body order. Old coffee cups, fast food wrapping and Chinese take out littered his passenger seat. He sat deep into the seat with a camera to his face.

He took pictures of a 19 year old girl, walking down the street. See that sounds weird but Aizawa Shouta is the best PI in the lower boroughs. His greasy hair is always tied up and his scuff leaves unshaved until he found it annoyingly long. He never seemed to smile. He always working on some case and buried himself his work.

This case was a missing college junior. Her black hair and deep brown eyes are plastered all over the city. The host parents contacted him after the police said it was likely she was dead. he never liked the police, that’s why he never became one after high school.

He clicked a few more photos of the girl before exiting his car to follow her. Her hair bounced as she walked down the busy street. She had been visiting the last places the missing girl was at. A small cafe, an old bodega, a drug store, and a bookstore. She had been down here five times in the last three weeks. She ordered the same green tea and walked to the other places. Aizawa figured out her name is y/n l/n. she’s a student at the local college. Art major. She had some pretty good pieces in the local art show last year.

He followed her into the cafe. She ordered her tea and walked to the other end of the cafe. She pulls out her phone and scans the cafe. Her deep e/c set on his. She smiled and went back to her phone.

“Black coffee,” his deep, raspy voice rang out. His eye contact never leaving the young woman’s figure. He soaked in every inch of soft small body. Her eyes darted over the screen.

“She’s pretty, right?” The young kid on the other side of the counter said. This snapped Aizawa out of his daze. “She’s been coming here more often. I hope she’s single,” the kid laughs, looking at the young woman. “$3.50”

He gave the kid a five and walked over to the other side. Her tea was done and she thanked the worker and walked out the cafe. His coffee was done a few seconds later. He didn’t want to lose her so he swiftly walked out as she quickly turns around and runs square into his chest. Her hair smelt like vanilla and it was softer than what he imagined. She backs up and apologizes profusely. She asked to buy him a new drink and grabbed napkins to clean off the tea and coffee.

“It’s fine, I need to shower anyways,” he jokes. She looks at him not laughing. after awhile of silence, she checked her watch.

“Shit, I’m late, I’m so sorry again,” and with that she was off.

Aiwaza climbed back in his nasty car and drive. She doesn’t know anything. It’s just a coincidence. He went to a small diner on the outskirts of the city.It was an old ma and pop diner with the old red paint and faded sign saying “jersey’s.” The ring above the door rang to announce the new arrivals. He sat in the old booth by the front windows. A woman in a yellow dress uniform walks over.

“Good morning, Shouta,” the young woman’s voice rang. He smiled and looked at her. “The usual?”

“Good morning Anne, yes, Ricky in the back?” He asked.

“Sure is. we were just joking that we were gonna put a ‘Shouta Special’ on the menu,” she laughed, scribbling down his name. Ricky knew what that meant. Black coffee, eggs, hash and hot sauce.

“Ha, no one wants what I eat,” he laughed as Anne walked into the back. Aizawa pulls out a notebook and a case file. He flips open his notes to scribble off Y/n’s name.

The pencil hovered over the beautiful name. Something about her perfect hair and shining eyes that put a weird feeling in his chest. She feels familiar to him yet also new. He had felt this before but never this intense.

There are never coincidences in this line of work.

He looked over his papers and shoved the food into his mouth. Anne sat down in the other booth. She liked watching him and today was slow and the other waitress said she needs the tips.

“So Shouta, tell me about this one,” she said.

“Missing person,” he mumbled scanning over the papers. His face stayed in a scowl and his eyes were dull until he thought he found a clue.

“Sometimes it helps thinking out loud,” Anne said, pulling the papers out of his face.

“Saito Yui, she’s a college student. Straight A’s. Pre-med. She’s top of her class. Barely parties. No boyfriend. But she misses Saturday brunch with her family. Then misses a hang-out with her friend, then classes on Monday. Police say she left. There’s no evidence that she was taken. No enemies. No stalkers and she never got on any one’s bad side,” he says. “There’s this girl though. She’s been in all the spots that Yui was before she went missing,”

“Do you think she knows something?” Anne asked, leaning in.

He pulls out his camera. He clicks through the photos and turned it to her. She took the camera in her hands. she looked at it with focus. Like she was trying to read her.

“I hope she’s innocent,” Anne finally said, handing the camera back. Aiwaza looked at her puzzlingly. “She pretty and has a lot to live for.” Anne always knew what to say, even if it wasn’t correct. She slides out of the booth. “See you tomorrow Shouta,” she waves and disappears into the back.

He looked back at his notes. The only connection between Yui and y/n was that they had a class together on Thursdays. Intro to sociology. He decided he would go and sit outside the class and wait for her to come out.

He watched the college kids walk around him. A lot of them didn’t notice him and the ones that did shot him a dirty look. The wide doors open and a young woman comes walking out out in a tennis skirt and a pull over with the college name printed on the chest. Aiwaza watched as she walked away. Her h/c bounced with each determined step. he leans off the wall and makes his way to her.

“miss l/n.” she wipes around and stares him down. her eyes held such intensity, it took aiwaza back. “i have some questions for you.” he says.

“aren’t you the guy from the cafe? are you following me?” she beginning to walk away from him. he reaches out and grabs her soft wrist.

“please it’s about yui saito,” his grip tightens as she pulls away.

“let go creep,” she spat. “i barely know the exchange student. she lived in my dorm, that’s all i know,” and she turn away.

aizawa sat on a bench and pull his head in his hands. “god i know this job is hard but i know she knows something.” he mumbled to himself. he got up and walked to his car. the young y/n was leaning against it on her phone. he walks up to her.

she looks up at him. he unlocks the car and climbs in hoping she was gonna move. she opens the passager side door. he looks at her with a questioning look.

“you’re right i know more but i wasn’t gonna tell you in the middle of my college campus,” she says with her attitude. he moves all the trash to the back seat and she jumps in. “your car reeks,” she says rolling down the window and pinching her nose.

“shut up brat.” he pulls out of the parking lot and goes to jersey’s.

“do you want to know what i know?” he glared at her. “then be nice,” the whole drive y/n was staring out the window. she watches the old victorian buildings turned small business fade into the american suburbs to a ratty diner in the middle of nowhere.

“jersey’s? never heard of it” she says sliding out of his car. she stretches her arms and heads to the door. aiwaza glares at her as she walks in and talks with anne. she shows her to his usual booth and pulls aiwaza aside.

“she’s way pretty in person,” she laughs. her tone drops to a serious one quickly, “reminds me of someone,” aiwaza knew exactly who she was talking about.

about 10 years back, he was working a case and meet a spunky accountant looking for something fun to do. she somehow became a target for some under organization and sadly she didn’t make it. but aiwaza had ready fallen in love with her. how her brown hair flowed in the wind as she always rolled down his windows. or how she always insisted that if he wasn’t going to dress professionally that she was. and she stuck to it. always wearing pencil skirts or dress slacks. aiwaza missed her but the woman sitting in front of him definitely had her attitude and curiosity on life.

he stay there and watched y/n look threw the menu. she mumbled to herself and pointed at some names. she twitches her nose and scrunches it up as read the descriptions. Anne comes over and takes her order which was just a plate of fries.

“are you sure?” anne asks. y/n just nodded. “black coffee i’m guessing?” she looks over at aiwaza.

“yeah,” he lets out. anne rushes away. “what do yo know,”

“well i was going through her stuff and i saw a necklace from this weird jewelry store downtown and it’s 100% a cult. i think they took Yui,” aiwaza sighed and leaned back.

“i know and they didn’t. i talked to them and they said they remember her buying the necklace but she didn’t join their pray list.” he rubs his eyes and looks at the woman.

her eyes looking over every inch of him. he felt his cheeks heat up a little. he pulls his hands on the table as she about the grab them anne comes with her food and his coffee.

“her host family said she didn’t seem like the type of girl to just leave without telling anybody,” he said bring the cup to his mouth.

“do you shower?” she asks in such a cheery tone. aiwaza chokes on his coffee and coughs. “maybe that’s why your not married,” she takes a fry into her mouth. “because you stink.” he hears anne laughing behind him.

“i shower and i’m not married because i don’t have time to meet anyone,” he glared at her.

“well the waitress seems to know you really well. you should ask her out,” aizawa’s cheeks gets red.

“shut up brat,” he puts down some cash and starts to get up.

“i’m sorry, please let me help you,” she asks.

“no,” he makes his way to the door.

“please! i promise i can help!” she follows him.

“no, do you need a ride back or can you walk?” he asks before getting in his car.

“yes i need ride. and i’m sorry for asking if you shower and saying you stink. please i want to help you. i’m really smart. i can help you,” she begs.

“fine,” he says driving back to the school. y/n talked the whole way about things she noticed about yui saito. like one time at a party she didn’t even drink or how she always showered super early in the morning.

“what’s your name?” she asked before getting out.

“aizawa,” he answers, staring at the students watching a young woman get out of his car. his cheeks flushed at the thought of what they were thinking.

“aizawa,” the way she says his name. silky smooth and he wished he could hear it again. “aizawa!” she yelled. he snapped to look at her.

“what brat?” she held her phone out. he took it and quickly punched in his number. He hands back the phone. She quickly sends a little hi.  

“I’m guess you already know my name, but I’m y/n,” she smiles and walks away.

Aizawa drives home and flops onto his couch. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about  today’s weird events. he thought about her h/c and how her eyes sparkled with curiosity. she is a smart girl. she beautiful in every sense of the word.

he didn’t even realize his hand slide down his pants. he was hard. he let his hand drift up and down the outline of his member. he thought about y/n’s voice and how she said his name. he thought about her spunky personality. his hand slips into his boxers. He closes his eyes and thinks about her small hands and pink lips. his hand moves across his hard cock. he inhales as he picks up the pace. he thinks about how soft her lips would feel against his. he thinks about if she was virgin and how tight she would be. his hand quickens. light moans escape his lips. he thinks about how she would look on her knees. he imagines her sucking him off. he clenched his jaw as his cum rolls down his knuckles.

he gets up and washed off his hands. his phone buzzes.

he rolls his eyes and opens the message.

he rolls his eyes and tosses the phone onto the table. he liked the little banters. he liked how she’s willing to speak her mind. he turns on the tv and flicks through the channels. NCIS. sure yeah not. he goes and makes himself a small dinner and sits at the table looking over the papers for the case.

‘yui didn’t seem like the girl to just leave without telling anyone,’ the host parents said. maybe she did tell someone or at least write a note. y/n said she went into her room. he wonders if she found something in there besides the necklace.

aizawa didn’t go to bed till early in the morning. so waking up and going to deal with the ever so cheery y/n was going to be a fun treat...

he threw on a tattered black t shirt and some jeans. his jet black hair pulled into a messy ponytail. the bags under his eyes could have held a weekend vacation worth of clothes. he got into the nasty car and drove to the cafe.

he saw her standing outside on her phone. her thumbs texting away. he was always so amazed at how fast teens can type. he got out and walked over to the distracted y/n.

“let’s go in,” he says in his deep raspy voice. it makes y/n jump slightly. his voice sends a shiver to the butterflies in her stomach. she follows in behind him. he orders his coffee and waits for y/n to order. he looks over his shoulder at her. his dull eyes looking into her bright ones.

“oh umm a chai tea,” she said walking closer to him. her shoulder brushes up against his. he looks down at her. her eyes dart around the cafe. she soaks in the area and walks to the pick counter.

“what did you find?” he asked while they wait for y/n’s tea.

“oh, yui used to write poems in her free time. one of them talks about a heart broken girl dropping everything and moving to colorado and starting new. she mets a wonderful man and they feel like they’re living the dream until one day he gets violent.” the guy calls out her name and she goes to get the tea. she drops her sleeve for her cup. she bends to get it, completely showing off the light blue panties. aizawa coughs and turns away. “sorry,” she says and sits down, “why is your face red?”

“nothing,” he shakes his head. “how is that a clue,” he watched as she brought the hot cup to her lips. she slowly sipped on it so she wouldn’t get burned.

“do you look at my underwear?” she laughs. “i knew you were an old creep,” his face drops into a scowl.

“shut up brat,” he said through gritted teeth.

“it’s fine, i don’t mind,” she said, scrolling through her phone, “here. i think she wrote that poem about him,” she shows him a picture of a 23 year from her school. he has his arm around yui’s hip. “that’s henry. they were seeing each other at the beginning of the semester, but one day yui comes in with a huge bruise on her arm and people asked he what is was about and she just answered with some vague thing like ‘oh i fell’ which is totally bullshit,” she takes another sip of her tea. “wanna try?”

“no i’m good,” aizawa answers. “do you think henry hurt her and she left to get away from him?” he watched as she typed something out on her phone.

“hm? yeah totally. i mean if i was getting pushed around by some frat boy i would totally disappear too,” she looks him square in the eyes. a little hue goes to aizawa’s face. “are you sure you don’t want to try it? you look like you only drink bitter sludge and gross greasy food for every meal,” she leans across the table.

“i’m serious. i’m fine with my bitter sludge,” he laughs. she smiles.

“i like it when you laugh. it’s calming,” she says. the phrase comes as a surprise to aizawa.

“aww you got a crush on an old man like me,” he says getting up. “come on kiddo.”

she gets up and follows. “maybe i do,” she whisper to herself.

“stop mumbling,” he says waiting at the door. they walk across the street to his car. “did the poem say anymore?” he asks unlock the car.

“i don’t know. i only got through a few when i texted you,” she said getting into the passenger side. she didn’t have her smile. he looks over at her. she stared out the window. her eyes didn’t have the spark of curiosity.

“what? are you mad at the joke? i’m sorry,” he said, started the car. she picks up her phone and quickly typed out a message and it sends with a bing. she rested her arm on the window and leaned her head against it. “y/n. seriously what happened? you were all jokes and laughing seconds ago.”

“it’s nothing, aiwaza.” with that he stopped asking. they drove in silence to his apartment. she followed him up the old stairs and he unlocks the green door. “cleaner than the car,” she laughs and flops herself on his couch.

“i guess make yourself at home...” he throws the keys on the table. he opens his laptop and looks up yui’s name. her twitter came up and he read through her poems.

‘even when he would yell

i would think about those mountains

how i could easily get lost in their trees.

how even if i never made it home,

the mountains would be there.

then i’m reminded

even the mountains can hurt me.’

“not the best one she’s written,” y/n says standing behind him. he’s snapped out of daze. she was leaning over his chair. her hair tickling his neck. her breath prickling his cheek. she smelt of vanilla.

“i wanna see you do better,” he sneers.

“hmm, your car smells like,” she brought her finger to her chin. “trash and you’re pretty much ash, and i think you have a rush, but your snash comments don’t bother me.” she laughs.

“haha real funny brat,” he rolls his eyes and looks about at the computer. y/n still laughing at her little poem. he reads through some more poems.

“did you ever check the ct tv camera or whatever?” she asks sitting on the couch again. “isn’t that like the first thing to do?”

“i did,”

“and?” she looks at him. he’s not looking at her. he was reading the poems and looking through pictures. y/n stands up and walks to him. she gets close to his ear and whisper “and?” his large hand covers her face and pushes her away.

“there was nothing,” he said as she scowls are her. he gives her a side glance. she was mad at him. “what?”

“you’re rude,” she huffs.

“what you wanted me to kiss you?” he laughs and looks back at the screen.

“maybe,” she mumbles.

“stop mumbling,” he says, not breaking away from the computer. “if you’re gonna say something, make sure i can hear it or else what’s the point in saying it.”

she moves to him. she yells “I SAID MAYBE YOU RUDE OLD MAN” he stops and his face goes pale. he swallows a hard lump. his heart is beating in his ears. y/n’s face gets all red. “um, sorry i’ll leave,” she starts to the door. tears fills her eyes.

aizawa gets up to stop her. he grabs her wrist. “don’t joke like that,” he pulls her close to him. “but please stay,” he wipes her tears.

“it’s not a joke,” she whispers. she looks up at him. he’s eyes soften. he kisses her forehead. she leans up to kiss him on the kiss but he moves away.

“i’m old enough to be your dad,” he goes back to the computer. she sits on the couch and goes on her phone.

“you cant be that old,” she says, breaking the silence. he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t want to ruin something as precious as her. “45?” he doesn’t answer. “50?” she gets up and sits across from him. leaning on her hands. she narrow her eyes. “23?” he looks up at her with a ‘really?’ look. “i know, i know, guess give me an answer,” she whined.

“no,” he scrolled along.

“40?” she says. still no answer. “100?” no answer. “fine i’ll look you up.” he looks at her. “aizawa... shit... what’s your first name?” she looks around for another with his name on it. she sees a pile of mail on the counter. she quickly lunges toward it. he gets up to stop her.  she grabs a piece before he could stop her.

“y/n!” he yells.

“what no brat this time,” she sneers. she looks at the piece. he tries to snatch it way. she leans against the fridge. he quickly grabs it and raises it above his head with the rest of his mail. “give it back!” she yells and jumps for it.

“it’s my mail!” he laughs. she grabs his collar and stands on her tip toes. she reaches for it. he places his other hand on the fridge to keep his balance. “stop y/n! you won’t get it!”

“i’ll stop when you tell me how old you are!!” she says trying to climb him.

“stop being a brat. i’m not going to tell you how old i am,” he smiles as he watches her try to get the mail.

“make me,” she stops and looks him in the eye.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.” he puts the mail on top of the cabinets and walks away. she instantly start climbing on the counter. he grabs her hips and pulls her done. he bear hugs her. “STOP IT!”

“NEVER!” she bites him. he lets go, “just tell me how old you are.”

“jesus, fine, 41,” he sighs and sits on the couch. she sits next to him.

“that wasn’t so hard now was it,” she laughs.

“you’re an absolute brat,” she leans her head on his shoulder. he puts his head on top of hers. her hand plays with his hand. tracing each vein and knuckle. she laces her fingered with his. he doesn’t pull away. all he does is whisper “please y/n, we can’t-“ she cuts him off by kisses his cheek.

“we’re two consenting adults. why can’t we,” she whines. she shifts to sit in his lap. she laces both hands together. he tries to control his breathing. he looks over every inch of her body. she just looks down at him. she leans down and kisses him. she puts his hands on her hips. her arms snake themselves around his neck. he breaks away.

“are you sure?” he asks.

“yes,” she breathes out. she leans back down and kisses him. his hands travels up her shirt and he undoes her bra. she pulls away and strips off the shirt and bra. he starts kissing down her neck, leaving red and purple marks. one of his hands moves to grope the soft flesh of her boobs. y/n arcs her back against his hand.

aizawa shifts and flips her onto her back. he gives her a quick peck then he leaves trails ok quick little kisses down to the waist band of her skirt.he wraps his fingers around the fabric and looks up at her. y/n nods.

“use your words bunny,” he says kissing her stomach.

“yes, please,” she says, tangling her fingers into his hair. aizawa pulls off her skirt. he smiles at the light lacy panties. he slowly slides them down. he kisses the bottom of her stomach. y/n’s hand yanks the collar of his shirt. he quickly takes it off. she sits up and creases every inch of his body. she soaks in all the little scars and muscles. he grabs her wrist and kisses the top of her hand. he leaves a trail of kisses down her arm and to her mouth.

y/n puts her hand back on his chest and pushed him back. she straddles him. she leans down and gives him light kisses everywhere while her hand slowly drifts to his pants. she rubs the forming bulge. he sucks on his teeth. she smiles down at him.

“damn you too good for me,” he whispers.

“damn right old man,” she laughs. he rolls his eyes and sits up. he pulls her closer. her clit grazing over his jean covered dick. she moans into his ear.

“fuck,” he whispers. her hands drive in between her legs and undoes his jeans. he chuckles. “so impatience,”

“shut up,” she sneers. he picks her up and brings her to his bed. he tosses her down. he pulls down his pants. “hmm boxer briefs guy,”

“i’ll leave..” he says. she laughs and pulls him onto her. they kiss and his hand makes it’s way to her heat. he spreads her folds. she moans into the kiss. he smiles. he drags his middle fingers from the bottom to her clit. y/n rolls her hips to his touch. he rubs small circles into the bud. she smirks under him.

“aizawa please,” she moans.

“shouta,” he whispers. his finger hovers over her entrance.

“hmm?” she looks up at him. he slides his finger in. she moans and grips onto the bed. he  kept his hand still, feeling her clench around him.

“my first name,” he whispers. she thinks for a second and opens her mouth to say his name, but he starts moving his fingers causing her to moan it. she hits his arm.

“you purposely did that,” she pouted.

“so what if i did,” he leans down. y/n can feel his breath on her ear. “i want to hear it again.” her face gets all flushed. he moves his finger at a slowly pace. after awhile of little mewls and light breathing moans, aizawa slips his ring finger in.

“shouta~” she moans out.

“that’s it, good girl,” he picks up his pace. she continues to moan. aizawa kisses her collarbone and attaches himself to her boobs. his tongue expertly swirls around her hardened buds. her hands tangled in his hair. she feels the knot in her stomach come undone as she comes on his fingers. he pulls them out and looks at them. she looks at him.

“don’t,” she says. he’s eyes flicker at her. “please don’t,” he smiles and sticks his two fingers in his mouth. he closes his eyes and moans.

“mmm sound good,” he teases. she throws a pillow at him.

“you suck,” she whines. he lays down on top of her and kisses her. she wraps her arms around him. he slides his hands down and brings her legs up. she wraps them around his waist. he sides his hand down his underwear and brings his harder dick out. he teases her entrance before pushing the tip in. she moans into the kiss.

“fuck you’re so tight,” he hissed into her ear.

“what? ever fucked a college student?” she laughs. until he slams his hips into her. she cried out in pain. “god, your a lot bigger than you seem, shouta,” she moans his name which makes him want to fuck her into the bed.

he pulls out them slams back in. “you better take it with out complaints. you’re the one who’s been asking for it,” he says threw gritted teeth. she does this breathing moan that sends him over the edge and into an absolute feral mindset. he holds himself up on his elbows and just pounds y/n into the bed. her moans turn into screams of pleasure as her legs squeeze around his waist.

the knot in her stomach reappears and she clenched around his dick. “fuck y/n, beg to come you fucking slut,” he groans out.

“shouta please.” he trusts even deeper. “fuck. god please shouta let me come on your huge dick,” she whimpers out, feeling the knot in her stomach snap.

“omg yes, y/n,” he moans as her pussy clenched around him. her beautiful moans escape her lips as her face shows nothing but euphoria. her pussy sucks him in, clenching around him, trying to milk him. he lets out a grunt as he paints her velvety walls white. he weakly thrust a few more times before collapsing next to her. he pants as she rolls over and puts her head on his chest. his large hand pets her hair as she falls asleep in his arms.

He whispers to himself,  “you’re the one I’ve been looking for,”

[malachaiparkerimagines]

do-over

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, sad kai :(, sappy sex

summary: seeing your old partner in crime in a diner was enough for both of you to yearn for each other once again.

The diner that Bonnie had chosen for dinner was quaint, a little way outside of town but the journey there had been a familiar one. Bonnie spent the drive over talking about a new grimoire she’d acquired, you'd been listening a majority of the time but as you pulled into the diner, your attention shifted.

Damon’s car was one you would recognise anywhere but for a second you failed to register that his car was parked just outside the diner you were about to enter. It shouldn’t have mattered but curiosity got the better of you and you couldn’t help but wonder.

“What’s Damon doing here?” you mumbled cutting off Bonnie’s rambling. She quickly spotted Damon’s car but didn't share the same concern, simply shrugging her shoulders and getting out of the parked car, immediately heading for the entrance.

The warm smell of waffles and bacon wafted out of the glass door Bonnie had held open for you and the soft murmur of conversations filtered into your ears.  

Any previous worries you had about Damon invading yours and Bonnie’s free time dissipated the moment you felt a low rumble emanate from your stomach. A waitress, a teenage girl with a warm smile, promptly seated you both at a table just by the window and handed you menus with a smile before briskly walking off to serve another table.

“I’m starving” you breathed as you looked over the choices on the tattered menu, your eyes flicking over a few that you knew you would enjoy. “What are you getting?”

Bonnie seemed too preoccupied staring at the stools at the front of the diner to acknowledge you, repeating the question seemed to catch her attention but now you were far too interested to find out what she’d been looking at.

“I-, um,” she stumbled, fumbling with the menu as she tried to gain your attention back but it was long gone, too focused on the two men sitting on the stools in the direction Bonnie had been staring at a few moments before.  

Damon was expected, you’d seen his car parked out front so you weren’t surprised to see him occupying one of the worn stools. However, you hadn’t expected to see Kai sitting adjacent to him.

To say you and Kai had history would be an understatement, you were practically joined at the hip for a time. The warmth and endearment he expressed in your presence was enough for the rest of the group to finally accept him; not as a friend just yet, but not as an enemy.  

That was a while ago though since then he'd drifted from you to the point where any acknowledgement of your existence was unheard of from him. You wanted to be angry with him, you had every right to hate him for the way he made you feel when he brushed you off but it broke your heart far more than it infuriated you.  

The diner was busy enough that he hadn’t spotted you yet but you knew it was just a matter of time, a simple glance behind him or Bonnie speaking a decibel too high would alert him to your presence.  

“Can we go?” you whispered, feeling your heart sinking more than you could physically handle. Bonnie’s eyes met yours and you could practically feel the pity radiating from her stare.

“No,” she stated, holding her head high but the look of sympathy was still painted on her face. “You can’t run from him forever, he’s not worth the trouble.”

She was right, of course, she was right, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. So, with a deep sigh and a shaky breath you picked up your menu and decided what to eat. With a proud smile, Bonnie imitated your actions and started to list off what she wanted to eat.

After a while you almost forgot that Kai was in the same room as you, you'd been so engaged in conversation and your food. What you'd failed to notice as a result was that Kai and Damon had finally realised that you were there.  

A slightly louder than usual laugh from you alerted Kai of your whereabouts, your laugh was so familiar to him and yet he almost forgot what it sounded like. As if it was second nature, his heart yearned to go and talk to you, ask you how you'd been but a hand on his shoulder grounded him into his seat.  

For a moment he thought Damon had returned him to his senses until his eyes shifted to the dainty hand that had slinked down and taken a hold of his bicep before they finally moved to the face of the woman who was smiling at him. Damon moved to focus on the milkshake in front of him, a smirk growing on his face.

“Can I help you?” Kai questioned, taken aback by the proximity of the woman who he didn't recognise. She was pretty, no question about it, she had light eyes and short blonde hair but Kai couldn't care less, his hearing focused on you and the mindless conversation you were having.  

The conversation between you and Bonnie had slowed, words were just mumbled between the mouthfuls of food. Somehow, your gaze returned to Kai and Damon, the sight instantly put a damper on your mood.  

You hadn't expected to see someone brazenly flirting with Kai, her hand was wrapped around his upper bicep and she was ever so slightly leaning into him. It wasn't her actions that had tears brimming your eyes but rather his, the lack of effort to move away was what hurt most.

Bonnie’s gaze had moved to the direction that had caught your eye and almost immediately she was waving over a nearby waitress.  

“Hi, could we maybe get some takeaway boxes and the bill?” she asked a grateful smile on her face when the waitress nodded and headed behind the register. “Are you okay?”

Tearing your gaze from the scene took a moment, you simply nodded and took a deep breath.  

“He can do whatever he wants, I don't care,” you said in an attempt to not only convince Bonnie but also yourself. You were never even dating but the way your heartstrings snapped at the sight made you reconsider just how much the whole affair had affected you.

It took about 5 minutes for both of you to pay, box your food up, and leave. The drive home was significantly quieter than the drive there had been and you cursed both yourself, and Kai, for letting him ruin your time out with a friend.

Honestly, you wanted to curl up in bed and forget that he even existed, the idea of asking one of your friends to compel you to forget the memory crossing your mind at one point.  

You dropped Bonnie off with as much reassurance as you could that you would be fine, desperately convincing her that it was nothing and the whole ordeal just caught you off guard. After a while, she seemed convinced and with a warm hug and a promise that she was there if you needed her, she left you alone.  

The soft music that played on the radio meant that you almost missed the notification that appeared on your phone. You had just parked up when you checked your phone, your heart skipping a beat when you read over the short message.

kai: are you busy?

Almost every fibre of your being wanted to ignore the message, block his number and move on with your life. But despite any intelligent thought telling you it was a bad idea, you typed out a simple no and sent it before putting your phone down.

Barely a few seconds passed before your phone lit up with another notification, you took a deep breath before picking it up again and reading the message.

kai: can you come over?

Any sensical thought you had left evaporated when you read the message, your body buzzing with dread and excitement at him wanting to talk to you. As if you had no control over your body, you said yes and started the car up again to make the almost habitual drive to his apartment.  

The drive there was quicker than you remembered, it might have been due to your racing thoughts that meant you were barely paying attention to the drive, the action almost unconscious.  

It seemed as though you were dreaming the whole time until you stood in front of his door. The reality of what you were doing came crashing down onto you and you almost decided to just turn around and go home, the door swinging open in front of you stopped you from doing that.  

“Hi,” you breathed out, your heart about to spring from your chest at the speed it was beating.  

“Hey, come in,” he said as he moved out of the way of the door, the familiar apartment coming into view.

It was exactly as you remembered, his apartment was dark and moody just as Kai intended it to be and you couldn’t help but let your heart warm at the smell of old books that Kai’s apartment always seemed to smell like.  

You turned to face him awaiting whatever reason he has asked you to come over after months of radio silence. The stoic look you presented did not at all mirror the turmoil you felt inside, you'd missed him immensely but prayed he didn’t know it.

“I saw you today, at that diner. I heard you leave and I can guess why you left but uh-” he stumbled over his words; he was never nervous which is why this side of him was such a shock to you. “I’ve missed you.”

The words made your skin erupt in goosebumps and your stomach fill with every type of butterfly. Meeting his eyes made any semblance of the strong facade you had presented crumble and you couldn't help the ways your eyes softened.

“Why?” you asked, your hands curling and uncurling into fists at your side, a presentation of your nerves.

“Why did I miss you? Why wou-” he started before you cut him off.

“No, why did you start acting like I didn’t exist?” you asked, the tremble in your voice evident but you didn't let yourself slip up.  

“I was scared,” he stated, his eyes falling to the ground as your eyebrows scrunched and your head tilted ever so slightly. “I’ve never felt like that about anyone in my entire life. I got scared and so I decided it’d be best if I left you alone.”

To any sane person, his logic made no sense, if you felt like you were falling for someone or anything remotely close then you would do anything in your power to keep them around. To Kai, it made perfect sense. He was so scared of hurting you or inevitably not meeting your expectations that he failed to realise that leaving you with no explanation would only hurt you more.  

“I thought you hated me,” you mumbled, the words bringing some kind of relief to your mind. Almost instantly, Kai’s head shot up to look at you and began to rapidly shake his head, muttering ‘no’ under his breath whilst taking quick steps towards you.  

His warm hands came up to brush your hair from your face before coming to rest on your cheeks. The eyes that met yours were swimming with both hurt and sympathy, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for himself when you stood in front of him looking so broken.  

“I could never hate you,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.”  

Sincerity seeped into his words, the small cracks in his voice as a result of his emotions overwhelming him made it evident he was being truthful. You knew emotions easily overwhelmed him since his merge with Luke, he struggled to deal with them and you had tried to help before he pushed you away.  

The genuine show of feelings that flowed between you made you want to pull him close, tell him it was okay and that you forgave him but fear took over. It was impossible to know whether he was prepared to deal with those emotions again or if he would decide to leave the second it got too much.  

His eyes scoured yours, searching for any reaction he could work off of, anything that would tell him that you forgave him but he came up empty. His hands were just about to move off you, he was so close to apologising for being a bother and letting you go for good. Until you spoke up.  

“I want to try this again, I do,” you started, taking a moment before continuing, “but please don’t leave me again.”

Kai’s heart sunk in a way he’d never felt before, he’d never felt guilt to that extent. He’d done some truly heinous things in his lifetime but nothing made his heart shatter like the despair in your voice.  

“I don’t think I could leave you alone again if I tried,” he uttered, a breathy laugh escaping him and both of you knew he was telling the total truth. A sudden warmth filled you, a feeling of solace taking over and you finally allowed yourself to sink into his hold.  

One hand slid around the back of your head as you rested against his chest, his other hand slinking to your back and pulling you as close to him as humanly possible. The arms that slinked around his waist brought him comfort that he’d never felt within his lifetime.  

Gently, he looked down at you causing you to bring your chin to rest on his chest so you could look up at him. With a soft smile, he leaned down ever so slightly to meet your lips, gracing you with a tender kiss that sent your heart into a frenzy and your mind blank.  

He pulled away for a moment, a small smile gracing his lips before he began to place small kisses on your lips again, pulling away for just a second to see the small pout on your face. After doing this for as long as he thought you could take he pulled apart completely.  

“Come on,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand and pulling you through his apartment until you reached his bedroom. Effortlessly, he pushed the door open and span you around to push you onto the plush mattress.  

Nerves washed over you, the reality that you were actually in Kai’s bedroom, on his bed with him hovering over you suddenly crashed onto you. His hands returned to your waist but he looked over your face for a moment, as if he was reading your thoughts.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern washing over his face at your sudden stillness considering how eager you were to be close to him just moments before.

“Yeah,” you struggled to find the words to describe how you felt so you settled on saying, “it’s just new.”

Kai knew what you meant, sure you’d been close before but him having you in his bed was uncharted territory. He hadn't intended to make you uncomfortable at all, he wanted to show you how much he’d missed you, how sorry he was.  

He began to push off of you, suddenly feeling as though he’d pushed your boundaries far too much for one night. Emotions had gotten the better of him and he already felt guilty for dragging you into his bedroom, his mindset on his own desires.  

Before he could leave you, warm lips met his once again, dainty fingers pulling at the hairs on the nape of his neck as he settled on top of you once again. No words needed to be said, all of your feelings being expressed through the soft smile he could feel against his lips as you allowed yourself to indulge in him.  

Relief washed over him and he finally let the desires free again, any previous hesitations being wiped clean and replaced with the sensations that now overwhelmed him.  

One of his arms rested by your head, propping himself up above you whilst the other skimmed across your waist, the light movements pulling at your shirt and revealing your skin.  

“Can I?” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers gingerly tracing the bottom of your ridden up shirt. A soft nod from you was all he needed to push the shirt up slowly before eventually pulling it over your head and leaving it to the side.  

The eyes that explored the now exposed skin were filled with adoration and lust. “You’re beautiful.”

The words erupted your skin into goosebumps, the lower tone of his voice sent your mind into a haze and the only thoughts you could formulate related to how lucky you were.  

A heavy sigh from you pulled Kai from his less than pure thoughts and back to you. He sat up straight, resting on his knees between your thighs and despite being devoured by his eyes in your half-naked form for the last few minutes, you suddenly felt exposed.  

As if he could sense your unease he removed his shirt as well, tossing it to the side more haphazardly than he had treated yours. The sight of him hovering over you, the only clothing covering him being his sweatpants, was something you wish you could engrain into your memory and relive on any dark or lonely day.  

Your hands unconsciously reached out to grab him, the need to feel him against you taking over. Almost instantly he was hovering about you again, the skin to skin contact making the feeling of lust more intimate.  

Your legs hugged his hips in a plea to have him closer, the soft kisses he placed on your exposed neck adding the dreamy state you’d been pushed to. His hands traced the cup of your bra, his hands gliding to your back and unclasping it with no trouble.  

Every movement he performed was soft and gentle as if you were made of glass. The fingertips that traced your skin and pulled your bra off your arms were featherlike and left a warm trail across your cold skin.  

A light touch to your nipple elicited a sharp intake of breath from you, a sound that made Kai shiver. His hands massaged your breasts carefully, all of his attention on the soft whimpers you made whenever his fingers played or pinched at the sensitive skin around your nipple.  

“P-please, more,” you whimpered, pushing your hips into his. The soft graze of you against his crotch caused him to abandon his attack on your neck and his face dug into the crook of your neck, his breathing deep as he attempted to calm himself.  

He was back to sitting up straight, between you, his hands grasping at the waistband of your leggings and underwear and pulled them off, the position was awkward and had your legs in the air but Kai managed to do it seamlessly.  

With a second, his eyes returned to your face, not leaving even as he tugged his sweatpants down his thighs, leaving them hanging around halfway down as his length slapping up against his stomach before gravity brought it down.  

Once again, he returned to you, his cock resting against your exposed pussy and you couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped you.  

Kai’s eyes looked down between the two of you, his heart jumping at the thought that you had allowed him to see you exposed. Almost painfully slowly, he grinned into you, not yet allowing himself to indulge completely but the sight alone had his stomach in knots.

Small mewls of his name returned him to reality and he was on your lips once more. Any soft moans were muffled by his lips, the kiss was soft yet sloppy and you could feel the desperation rolling off the both of you in waves.

The teasing was becoming insufferable and you needed him more than you needed oxygen. “I n-need you.”

The words were mumbled against his lips and he would’ve missed them if he wasn’t so enraptured by the noises you were making. Before you could utter another syllable he has slipped into you, stretching you out to where it was almost painful.  

He gave you a few moments to breathe and accommodate him, a consideration that was much appreciated. The air in the room was suffocating and you could only bring yourself to let out shallow breaths in an attempt to keep yourself calm.  

It took him a few more moments to move, only gently thrusting as your breathing slowed to the point that he deemed ‘safe’. His movements were cautious, afraid to break you despite you showing him time and time again that you wouldn't be broken so easily, but you enjoyed the loving pace regardless.

You pulled him down ever so slightly, attaching your lips to his neck as he began to build a rhythm to his movements. His cock stroking against your sweet spot with every single thrust, each time it elicited a soft whimper.  

The pace sped up as he began to let his desires overwhelm him, his hips slapping against yours in a chase to his end. The hand that rested on your waist slid down your stomach and landed on your clit, rubbing small, soft circles that had you writhing.  

He was desperate for you to reach your climax first, knowing that seeing the ecstasy he caused would send him into a high that he could only ever dream of recreating alone. Your face was completely dug into the crook of his neck but he wanted to see you, he had to see you.  

Carefully, he pulled away, your head rolling back onto the bed and gave him a full show of your face. The way your eyelids were hooded and your lips puffy, it almost threw him over, but he remained hellbent on you getting there first.  

The angle of his hips changed slightly, barely noticeable if it hadn't made the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot with accuracy. The feeling made you let out a small cry, and every thrust after that wound your stomach into a tight knot.  

“Kai, K-Kai,” you started before you could finish your sentence the knot unravelled. The feeling overwhelmed you in a way you’d never felt before and you could only feel the way your body buzzed and writhed and the warmth from the man hovering above you.  

Watching you quiver and shake beneath him was enough to send Kai over the edge, his body near collapsing on top of you as a guttural groan erupted from him. His hips stuttered inside of you, pleasure clouding his mind and he allowed himself to pump you full of him, feeling the way your walls clenched him and held him in made pulling out feel impossible.

A few moments passed before he slid out of you, his cum spilling out of you as your pussy couldn't hold everything that he had to give. The sight made his mind hazy and his cock twitched, desperate to feel the warmth of your tight pussy again.  

He switched his gaze to you, your eyes had fluttered shut and the way you were peacefully sprawled out on his bed made you look ethereal. He stood onto shaky legs, his orgasm knocking the energy out of him and seeing you like that was enough to make his body tremble.

Gently, he picked you up, his arms and carried you to the bathroom, the movement woke you from your daze and you giggled slightly at his affection.  

“C’mon, let’s clean you up,” he whispered, scared to break the warm atmosphere. The care he provided you with broke him from his usual character, careful hands traced over you as to not stimulate you any further and he guided you through every action that would require no thought from you anyway.  

Finally, he returned you to his bed, pulling the covers up for you and allowing you to settle before joining you. The moment he crawled into bed next to you, you wrapped around him, your head rested on his chest and you wrapped your leg around his waist.  

The action, despite being as simple as cuddling, made his heart jump in its cage and he found himself completely and utterly enamoured with you.  

Watching you drift off to sleep was never the plan but how could Kai possibly sleep when all he could think about was you?

[cinnonym]

The Dark One’s Choice

As announced, I finally polished (and finished) my Dark One smut fic, sooo if you’re one of @swanqueensalad‘s horny followers (aren’t we all) or otherwise inclined to read the closest thing to smut I’ve ever written, here goes:

~5k

rating: m

mildly dubious consent, sub/dom hints, choking, restraints, power play, angst, canon-compliant

don’t like don’t read ^^

The great grandfather clock in the hallway shows half past 1 at night when Regina passes it, finally on her way to bed after a long day. Her thoughts have kept her alert until now, the risk of Emma, now as the Dark One, turning up at her doorstep to demand to have Henry too high to let her relax properly. And then there is the gaping hole in her memories, a condition she's familiar with but which still annoys her in no small measure. One moment the gates of Camelot swing open for her, the dagger pressing to her side in the warm promise of Emma's trust, then the next second she's flat on the floor of Granny's Diner, faced with Emma in full Dark One apparel, mercilessly glaring down at her. Accusing and dangerous and assuring to punish them all, though her cold eyes were on Regina only, sending a shiver down her spine that consisted of trepidation and arousal in equal measures.

Regina shudders just remembering the low purr of the Dark One's voice, the radiated dominance so different from the kind of nervous excitement that usually accompanies Emma's talks with Regina. Different, yes, but not necessarily worse, Regina thinks, the naughty admission painting an unexpected smirk on her lips, and she permits a silent chuckle before calling herself back to order. She mustn't enjoy nor underestimate the saviour's dark side. Quite the contrary, to save Emma from herself, and the rest of town from Emma, it is crucial that Regina stays alert and focuses on figuring out a way to get rid of darkness once and for all. So, no unnecessary risks. Constant vigilance.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings and startles Regina back into reality. She throws a glance at the clock. 1:40, not exactly a reasonable time for visitors, even in this tense situation. Besides, Snow, or David, and even the pirate, would have rather called to talk than walked through nightly Storybrooke with a new Dark One on the loose. No, Regina decides, it has to be Emma herself who's on her porch, now pressing the bell again.

Regina swears under her breath; if she doesn't put an end to this, Emma will wake up Henry. On the other hand, opening the door would violate the very set of rules she has just established. There's just no easy way out of this.

Emma ends up making the decision for her when suddenly greyish smoke forms right in front of Regina, vanishing to reveal the familiar frame of the saviour. Her lips set in a thin straight line, the green eyes as expressionless as earlier, she stands and looks at Regina. Just takes her in. Regina feels her skin starting to tingle when a flash of hunger crosses Emma's features, and she's suddenly all too aware of the red velvet dress she's still wearing, clinging to her curves.

"What are you doing here?" She asks when Emma still hasn't moved to talk after several seconds. Her voice is calm, only the slightest hitch in her throat betraying her racing heart. Emma is close, far too close, the aura of power that surrounds her enclosing Regina as well. She's always had a weakness for great wizardry she supposes, the mixture of envy and admiration an exhilarating drug running through her veins, and she welcomes it like an old friend.

"After weeks of sleeping wall to wall with my parents," Emma finally answers, her tone as cool and indifferent as if she were talking about the weather, "I now have the opportunity to take what I want." And she steps even closer, now bare inches separating their bodies.

A sudden fright befalls Regina, her heart fluttering weakly in her chest, colibri-like. She almost doesn't dare to ask for clarification. What if Emma has changed her mind somewhere along the way, realizing that sacrificing herself for Regina has been a mistake after all? What if she's here to make Regina pay for that mistake? What if this is revenge?

"Which is what?" Regina still whispers, hoping against all odds for a, what, fourth chance by now? But no such luck this time; Emma's eyes harden and she raises her chin. Her voice is but a whisper, her lips carefully forming the word:

"You."

Regina closes her eyes for just a second, absorbing the impact without allowing Emma to witness the emotions flickering through her mind. A second is all Emma should need to finish matters once and for all, but it passes without either of them moving and when Regina glances up at Emma again she's surprised to find a tiny glint of amusement in the depths of her eyes. And then that glint changes, grows darker, twisted, and funnily enough, heated, burning with an intensity that makes Regina automatically lower her gaze.

A throaty chuckle vibrates through Emma's body. She waves her hand, and the next thing Regina feels is the cool tapestry of the wall against her back and Emma's grip tight around her wrists, pinning her down. A hot breath tickles her earlobe when the blonde leans forward in the same movement, teeth grazing Regina's skin.

"Control is mine now. Is that understood?" Emma whispers huskily, fleetingly biting down on the sensitive flesh right under Regina's ear.

Regina can barely stifle a moan and she feels her knees grow weak. It would be so easy to give in, the fulfilling of late night dreams and poorly repressed fantasies right in front of her - but she can't. This, what's happening, is the Dark One's choice, not Emma's. And while the darkness might be prevailing in Emma's mind right now, it doesn't mean Emma isn't still in there somewhere, fighting and protesting. And when she returns and the darkness is extinguished - an act Regina will accomplish and if it so takes years - Emma will have to face regrets enough. A nightly adventure with the Queen doesn't have to be among them.

So Regina summons her strengths, and resists. Pulling away from Emma's touch as much as possible in the confined space at her disposal, she shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

"I don't think so, no."

The rage wells up in Emma immediately, her hands clenching around Regina's wrists until it hurts but Regina neither flinches nor backs down. She can tell that Emma didn't expect defiance from the way her eyes widen a fracture before darkening to a near black.

"What?"

The whisper is deadly, a promise of pain if Regina were to repeat her words. Well, Regina can handle pain, if something greater is at stake. And so she raises her chin and holds Emma's glance, proudly and with all the indifference she doesn't really feel.

"I said no, I won't defer to you. Magic doesn't make you my leader and I refuse to - "

"I am the Dark One," Emma roars and Regina once again thinks of Henry asleep upstairs. She prays he won't wake up and choose to see what's causing the commotion, or she will lose some serious ground to Emma. Maybe playing up hasn't been the best plan after all, but she can't revise her strategy now.

"I see that," Regina consequently bites right back, hoping that if she only appears strong enough, Emma will step back eventually. "But it doesn't change the fact that I won't yield to you."

It's only when the expression in Emma's changes again, turning almost playful, that Regina realizes the mistake she's made by counting on Emma's rationality. Magic is based on emotions, and since the Dark One's powers are still relatively new to Emma, she is bound to act unpredictably. Well, this brings a whole new danger to this nightly encounter. Regina's suddenly glad that her provocation didn't fuel Emma's anger. In fact, Emma is eyeing her almost fondly, leisurely letting her eyes take in every tiny aspect of Regina's complexion. The scrutiny inadvertently brings the colour to Regina's cheeks and a smirk on Emma's face.

"You don't really mean that."

And then, without another word of warning, Emma surges forward again and captures Regina's lips with hers before the mayor can dodge her. A yelp of surprise escapes Regina. She tries to jerk back, except she can't, Emma has her trapped against the wall, pressing down on her with the full length of her body. A shudder passes through Regina upon that realization, making her skin tingle and setting her nerves aflame. Never would she have thought that Emma's touch could have such an effect on her. And the kiss, the saviour's lips moving on Regina's almost feverishly. They are dry and slightly chapped under the crimson lipstick and Regina finds herself sinking into them, answering Emma's harsh bites with tentative nibbles on her own part.

But no, she must not delight in this. She has to keep a clear head, because while she is kissing Emma's lips and inhaling Emma's perfume, she has to remember that it's not Emma's mind who's in control here. And so, although a long, leather-covered leg is slowly wedging itself between Regina's, making her feel all kinds of things, including a very dominant throbbing at her core, Regina uses a momentary distraction on Emma's part to push against the arms confining her and turn her head away.

"Stop," she says, intending to sound firm, but it comes out as a strangled moan instead. Miraculously, Emma still seems to have heard her, because she pulls back slightly to look at Regina. Her eyes are darker than Regina has ever seen them and for a moment she feels her resolve weaken, but she masterfully ignores the dryness in her throat and pushes against Emma's shoulders again.

"Let me go," she demands when Emma doesn't budge, instead watching her with the faintest annoyance in the tilt of her head. Regina pushes again, a petulant move rather than a well-considered one. She should have known better than to provoke the Dark One further, but her skin is burning, and she just needs Emma to back off before she'll commit a whole different folly. And who would have known it would be just this little extra push that makes Emma snap.

But it is and the angry flashing of familiar green eyes is all the warning Regina gets before a hand wraps around her throat, constricting her airways.

"Why do you keep resisting?" Emma growls, her voice inhuman, feral. "I can see how you want this," she wriggles her leg slightly and Regina gasps when it rubs against her hot centre. It takes all her self control not to thrust her hips forward to grind against the leather, and maybe the desperation shows a little in her eyes, because Emma smirks and applies more pressure on Regina's throat.

"So why don't you take it?" She hisses and curls her index finger, the sharp nail scratching against Regina's skin, "Take it."

Suppressing a whimper, Regina feels her body react, a new gush of wetness slowly trickling down the inside of her thighs. She has to put an end to this soon or so help her.

"This is not you talking," she brings out, varying somewhere between a moan and a gasp, the limited access to oxygen finally making her feel light headed and breathless. "The darkness has lowered your inhibitions."

Emma chuckles and brings up her other hand, drawing a slow trail down Regina's stomach. When she feels muscles tensing beneath her touch, she releases a delighted laugh. It's scary how fast her emotions seem to change.

"Oh but dear," she replies, almost conversationally now, her eyes twinkling with some wicked amusement, "that is exactly why it's me talking. The darkness is simply giving me the courage to do what I've been wanting to do for a very long time."

Regina's teeth clench at the easy, un-Emma-like admission, and of course the Dark One notices.

"You don't believe me?" She snarls, suddenly furious again, "Let me prove it."

And not giving Regina a chance to react, Emma's long slender fingers press against Regina's core, cupping her through the velvety fabric of her dress. A strangled moan escapes Regina but before her body can betray her by rolling against the tantalizing touch, she summons her magic and poofs out of Emma's grasp.

Mastering magic in an emotionally turmoiled state is difficult, but Regina has perfected the technique during her long years as the Evil Queen. She materializes on the exact spot she had in mind, several metres away from where Emma had held her, an armchair in front of her, which she grabs on to in need of support. Taking a deep breath and revelling in the feeling of the air streaming in her lungs freely again, she lifts her eyes, fully expecting to see Emma leaning against the wall still. The room is empty though, without a trace of the Dark One.

Regina furrows her brow. Would Emma just leave like that? And let Regina win? It seems highly unlikely, and yet the deserted scene she's presented with suggests it. Disappointment pulses through Regina, but before she can analyse and revoke the feeling, grey smoke envelopes her. It's only due to her marvellous reflexes that Regina manages to jerk away in order to avoid being trapped again when Emma makes her appearance. An infuriating smirk is playing on her lips, which, as Regina shamefully notices while consciously pursing her own mouth, are now devoid of crimson lipstick.

"Missed me?" Emma mouths, a knowing glint in her eyes that only intensifies when Regina attempts to scoff. "Don't forget that I know when you're lying."

This comment throws Regina off balance though she refuses to let it show. It reminds her of Emma, the real Emma, untainted with darkness yet not free of pain. Emma, who through the course of her life has learned to read people to protect herself from getting hurt. Emma, whose superpower may not be perfect, despite all efforts, but with Regina it always is. Emma, who knows her.

For a moment, Regina misses her so much, the loss feels like a sharp knife twisting in her gut. And a moment is all the Dark One needs to bridge the short distance between them and cradle Regina's face in her hands. The touch is almost gentle, Emma's thumbs tracing the line of Regina's cheekbones, and when Regina looks up, she's surprised to notice the tender expression in those green eyes.

"I am still Emma you know," Emma whispers, tugging at a strand of Regina's hair, then placing it delicately behind her ear. "Still me." And then, leaning in with a wicked grin spreading on her lips she adds: "Just look at my powers like an extra gift. Something to give matters some kick..."

Regina swallows, tantalizing images penetrating her mind, colliding and overlapping with those of Emma, the real Emma, with her jutting jaw and hideous leather jackets. She shakes her head to get rid of them, refusing to let the Dark One play with her emotions any longer. It's time the Queen regains some command. For Emma's sake.

"Embracing the darkness doesn't seem very Emma-like," she counters tentatively, testing the waters by also taking a step back. Dark eyes follow her, thin lips drop into a frown, but for now Emma lets her have the distance. She just shrugs.

"Didn't want to waste the potential."

Regina takes another small step back, sees Emma's eyes dart down to her legs, freezes - but still nothing happens. Good. The gap between their bodies allows Regina to gather her wits and think of how she'll handle the situation. Hitherto, it has been Emma who set the pace, hardly giving Regina time to react. This will have to change if the mayor wants to stand any chance against the Dark One. She needs a plan to distract Emma from trying to seduce her, distract her from Henry sleeping upstairs, distract her from using her magic against Regina. And what distraction could be better than a midnight snack?

"Are you hungry? Or did the darkness extinguish this trait too?" She asks as casually as she can muster.

Emma cocks her head, an amused smile flashing over her complexion. Her eyes darken.

"On the contrary. I'm almost insatiable these days."

Regina is sure her cheeks burn brightly pink but she ignores the feeling and clears her throat.

"I meant food."

"Oh, I know what you meant," Emma smirks, disappearing and reemerging a foot closer to Regina in the blink of an eye. The mist has not yet cleared away when she repeats the trick, now standing behind Regina. Their noses are almost touching. "I also know that I'm tired of this chitchat. Why don't you put that mouth to better use elsewhere?"

A groan escapes Regina when Emma's lips once again press against hers. Still she focuses and flicks her hand to escape the Dark One's grip, reappearing on the other side of the armchair. Emma follows her before she can even breathe, pins her down to the chair, effectively demobilising Regina's wrists with her knees.

"Two can play this game," she murmurs against Regina's ear, then sits up. "Your move."

Regina's whole body seems to buzz with nerves, her skin is aflame where Emma's touching her, still she forces herself to think. Emma's magic works faster than hers, but she's inexperienced. She might be more powerful but she lacks self-discipline. If Regina managed to lure her into poofing repeatedly, unnecessarily, maybe she could tire the Dark One while saving her own strength, until eventually she would have the upper hand again.

The heat pulsing through her body is put to good use as Regina channels the energy to her palms, letting them warm up to the point where, if she were to flick her hand, she could conjure a fireball. Then she twists them, reaching for Emma's thighs.

The Dark One jerks back for only a split second, but that is sufficient for Regina who's been awaiting it. She draws her hands free and sends a magic blow at Emma. Just like she predicted, the blonde is sent flying but disappears mid air and grey mist once again embraces Regina. However, she is prepared; jumping up from the chair she creates a shield around where Emma is materializing. A hiss escapes the Dark One, then she throws her head back and laughs, short and hard. Regina's eyes dart to the staircase, to Henry, but fortunately Emma doesn't seem to notice.

"You see, there are advantages to being the Dark One," her voice comes out of nowhere as she breaks free from her cage by poofing a ridiculous amount of seven times until she's facing Regina again. "I love this form of transport."

Regina only smiles tightly, hands already up again. This is her game now. She risks wasting some of her magical energy to create a soundproof spell in the living room, then makes a swooping gesture that hurls the armchair Emma's way. Instead of stopping it, like any sensible user of magic would have, the blonde turns into swirling smoke again, and then again when Regina lets the footrest follow, and even to avoid the decorative tablecloth. It's quite ridiculous really, she's bound to get tired in the matter of minutes, and Regina allows herself a tiny self-satisfied smile. Not many can claim to have tricked the Dark One.

Except her victory only lasts seconds, when suddenly Emma's slender fingers encircle Regina's wrists once more and she's slammed against the wall.

"Oh Regina," Emma purrs in a low voice that seems to buzz through Regina's entire body. "Do you honestly think I don't know what you're trying to do?" Her free hand delivers a soft, almost gentle blow to Regina's cheek. Regina quivers, not from the sting but from the unexpected flash of pleasure that burns through her veins. Who would have thought that Emma harbours sides like this.

Not Emma but the Dark One, Regina tells herself as she stares up at her opponent, who in her turn is eyeing her appreciatively.

"What am I trying to do then?" She utters defiantly, wriggling her hands until Emma is forced to let her go. Without granting herself a second of triumph, Regina snaps her fingers and shiny black metal starts growing around Emma's wrist, holding it effectively in place above her head.

"You think you can exhaust me," Emma smirks, not at all bothered by the constraint, "You think you can lure me into wasting my power until it's drained." Another click of fingers and a chain sprouts from the first cuff, enclosing Emma's other hand and pulling it up too. Still the Dark One doesn't move, doesn't fight it. Regina is beginning to feel a bit uncertain about her plan to bind Emma's wrists. It should render her helpless, incapable of using her magic, so why doesn't she look the least bit concerned? Why is she smiling still?

"This is kinky," Emma mentions, almost conversationally. Regina cocks her head.

"Usually I'm the dominant one," she says, in spite of her instincts' warning not to trust her victory yet. A grave mistake.

"I am the Dark One!" Emma suddenly roars, and never in her life has Regina been so glad about the existence of soundproof spells. At least Henry's safe, she thinks, as she's hurled backwards into the couch. Emma, inexplicably, has freed herself from the handcuffs. Her face is contorted with rage as she attacks Regina with blasts and blasts of magic.

"How can you think my power would be finite?" She screams and wrecks the couch on top of Regina who barely has time to roll away.

"How can you think you could shackle me? Dominate me?" She screeches and the iron chains turn into snakes at her feet and lunge at Regina.

"Why won't you let me take you?" She cries and yes, she's crying now, and as they fall, her tears become ice spears that are aiming at Regina.

"After everything I've done for you!" And at this Emma breaks down, collapses into a small heap on the floor that's shaken by sobs. With her deflate the snakes, until they're just iron again, curled around Regina's legs. It is very silent all of a sudden, and Regina stands in the middle of her demolished living room, watching her friend cry.

"Emma," she says cautiously after a while, because the woman before her is Emma now, Emma in all her broken glory, Emma the abused saviour, Emma, still breathing under her cloak of darkness.

Emma, who is now lifting her head, face stained with too much mascara. It looks like the darkness is bleeding out of her with every black tear that's rolling down her cheeks, but Regina knows this is not the case, unfortunately. Darkness doesn't yield to grief, quite contrary. It consumes it, forges it into yet another weapon, feeds on it until it's strong enough to take over control. Which means, Regina has to play on this break now, has to use it to talk to Emma before the woman she likes, loves as she realizes now, becomes captive to the Dark One again.

"Emma," she says again, stepping out of the chains and hurrying to the shaking heap. She hesitates briefly, before reaching out to gingerly wrap her arms around Emma. A sigh shudders through them both as Emma accepts the embrace and leans into Regina.

"I just wanted..." Emma begins but Regina shushes her before she can finish her sentence.

"You don't have to explain yourself," she murmurs into Emma's hair and god, why didn't they hug before? Why did it have to come to a catastrophe for her to realize how much she'd yearned for this?

"But I want to explain," Emma protests, muffled against Regina's shoulder, still weak but already defiant again. Regina smiles and releases her reluctantly. Emma's hair is still the Dark One's, her face still greyish white, but her eyes look at Regina the same way they've always had. Or, not exactly the same, because when they were reserved and secretive before, they now shine with a brutal honesty that makes Regina squirm under their gaze. Emma Swan has let her walls down.

"I meant what I said earlier," Emma says at the same time as Regina blurts out: "Don't tell me things you'll regret later."

Emma frowns. "Stop interrupting me, Regina." Her voice rings with a newfound authority that has Regina look at her in alarm, certain that the darkness has regained control. But Emma's eyes remain soft and full of emotion, and her lips form a smile instead of a sneer. Regina relaxes a bit.

"As I was saying," Emma then continues as if nothing happened, "I meant what I said, about me still being me and the darkness simply giving me courage." She takes a deep breath. "I've meant every word I said and I've meant every move I made. I see the way you look at me, Regina, I know that you want me. Yet you're acting as if you hate me. Why?" Her eyes search Regina's and first now does Regina notice how tired Emma looks. How worn, how sad, how, yes, broken. And Regina realizes, she can't lie to her.

"Because," she therefore begins, her voice feeling scratchy in her throat as she fights her own terror about admitting her thoughts. "Because I like you, Emma, very much. And I can't let the Dark One ruin your life even more by sleeping with me without your consent. I can't let the darkness abuse you. I'm not gonna lie, I was tempted. It's your body I desire, but it's your mind I love and I can't do this to you." Regina's voice breaks and she realizes she's crying too now. "I can't do this to you," she repeats weakly and prays, for the sake of both of them, that the Dark One won't choose this moment to return.

"But Regina, don't you see?" Emma whispers, her hands reaching for Regina's. "I am the Dark One." She says it differently now, softer, soothing. "I am consenting. This is me acting, all me, body and mind and heart if you so will, and everything is striving after you."

And Regina is shaking her head, not believing, never believing, although she absorbs every single word Emma is saying.

"Regina, listen!" Emma says, sharper now. Regina is listening, but she wishes she wasn't, wishes she didn't have to hear the words that are too good to be true.

"Didn't I become the Dark One for you?" Emma inquires, "Didn't I give you the dagger as a token of my trust?"

"And yet you erased our memories from Camelot," Regina counters, her mind clinging to this one sane thought in a desperate attempt to withstand the madness Emma's offering.

"To protect you!" Emma says, louder, as if she feels that she's losing Regina. "Camelot was a disaster. A broken kingdom with a corrupt king. Arthur, he didn't help us to find Merlin - he sabotaged all our plans. Everything, this whole mission to Camelot failed, and in the end, bringing us back to Storybrooke was the only thing I could do to save us... Taking your memories was a necessity in the process, but believe me, I'll only keep them until I've sorted out the dangers that are still present."

"What dangers?" Regina whispers when Emma doesn't continue. Her thoughts are racing to keep up with Emma's tale. In a horrible way it all makes sense, matches up with what few memories Regina has of Camelot and its leader. The shrewd look Arthur gave them when they first arrived to the kingdom, the scheming in his glance, the triumphant smile. "What dangers?" She repeats, urgently now, afraid.

"I can't tell you," Emma says, not meeting Regina's eyes. She sounds apologetic but also stubborn, a faint trace of the original Emma in her voice and Regina's heart would warm if it weren't so frustrating.

"Emma," she sighs and the woman before her crumples.

"I'm sorry." Barely a whisper.

"Why did you come here?" Regina asks, equally low. Her heart is still pounding and her skin crawls where Emma has touched her and while she's glad they're talking now, a tiny part of her wishes they could go back to kissing. A tiny part that Regina deliberately chooses to ignore.

"I needed to see someone," Emma murmurs, still evading Regina's gaze. "To know what I'm fighting for."

"But why me?"

A frown settles on Emma's brow, her lips forming a pout and for a second she looks so much like Emma that Regina almost jerks away, the proximity suddenly overwhelming her. She doesn't have the right to be here, cradling Emma's face, not while all they are is friends and both of them have a boyfriend waiting. And yet Emma doesn't move away, doesn't tell her no. Only looks at her in this intoxicating defiance.

"Because I made a mistake. And I will fix it but I needed to be sure first."

"Sure of what?" Regina breathes, although she already has an inkling what Emma is going to say. And indeed:

"Your feelings," Emma affirms her suspicions, and for the first time tonight the blonde looks nervous. "You do have feelings for me, right?"

Regina closes her eyes. Her head is swimming, the late hour and extensive display of magic at last taking its toll.

"Emma..."

"Please." The word is carefully enunciated, every letter pronounced with a purpose that lets Regina know just how much it costs Emma to say it. "I promise I will sort this out, I promise I can. I just need to have something that I can come back to. I need you to be there when I do. I... need you."

"And I need you," Regina whispers, because what else is there to say? What point is there in resistance when all the walls have been torn down anyway, when her heart lies bare and hurting amidst the ruins? When Emma has already seen it in its truest state, what use is there in lying? "I need you, Emma," she therefore repeats, her hands still cupping Emma's cheeks, her eyes mapping every inch of Emma's face. "I need you to come back. If I let you go now - promise you will come back."

"As long as you'll have me," Emma says, "I will always come back."

And she snaps before Regina can say anything else, dissolving into grey smoke between Regina's fingers.

[javierpinme]

Part One: New Beginnings

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Infidelity, angst, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol

Rating: M (might change)

Summary:  You’ve lived in a small town for half of your life and nothings really changed until it did. Moving halfway across the country you find lasting friendships and a love you needed at the exactly the right time.

A/N: There is not a ton of Frankie in this one since I wanted to set the tone for the reader before they meet! They don’t see/meet each other until near the end (or do they?) I wanted to build the reader’s relationships with the people in her life as there will more parts.

AO3

Masterlist

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It’s hard to build friendships as an adult without being under the pretense of school or college. It’s especially difficult when you decide to move across the country. Away from your family and friends, but it’s what you needed. Seeing the same four walls you lived in, that same greasy diner that was always your go-to after one too many tequila shots the night before, and that one ex from high school that you’d really rather forget while running errands were making you feel complacent. Wake up. Drink. Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat. You’ve spent most of your life here. You weren’t about to spend the rest of it here. So, you did something completely unlike you. You packed up your life and moved. The house was beautiful. You’d never owned anything in your life; just rented so this is a major upgrade for you. The first sight that greets you is the stairs after living in a first floor unit for most of your life. The house isn’t in perfect shape, but it’s yours which is all that matters.

The movers have left so you finally had the place to yourself. You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that fell from your mouth at the sight of all the boxes. If your sister and friends were here you’d probably be knee deep in pizza and wine while attempting to build furniture. You gave your brain the space to let that thought sink in, but you craved the freedom so you didn’t let that sit too long. You came here to build your own memories; no room for regrets now. So, the first thing you decide to acclimate yourself with is the closest liquor store and that is how you met Hannah.

The first thing you hear after getting lost reading a wine label is a loud oof before slamming into somebody. You only barely managed to catch the bottle before it became one with the outdated tile.

“I am SO sorry! I’m not even going to lie to you I was not watching where I was going. Are you okay? You didn’t drop anything did you?”

You manage to form a sentence between your scrambled apologies in between. The first thing you notice when you look at the face standing in front of you is how pretty she is. That typical blonde hair and blue eyes type that reminds you of the girls you went to high school with. You wince. Stop it.

“Oh, I’m okay! It was more the residual shock of it really. You must really need that bottle because you were just about ready to run me over in your pursuit to the cash register. Cheating ex or bad date?”

She says with a laugh while pointing at the wine still in your hand. Oh, she’s nice. You immediately feel guilty for that initial judgment when first looking at her.

“Oh, neither. I just moved here and need sustenance to unpack. Who knew you could fit your entire life into boxes?” You mirror her laugh.

“I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Walk around the neighborhood and find the necessities which is how I ended up here.” You say with a twirl in your finger.

"Ah, the one down the street that's just begging to be demolished?" She says while snapping her fingers with a mischievous smile.

"Hey, don't talk about her like that. She's old, but she's got character." You can't help the lopsided grin you give her. She hasn't even seen the dream kitchen with those beautiful green cabinets.

“Hey, well if you need help with that-“ her eyes shifting to the bottle, “I live right down the street so I can come over. I know moving somewhere unfamiliar can be a little daunting especially if you’re alone.” You can’t help the wide smile forming at her sweet gesture.

“And to help me unpack right?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I mean I’m better at draining a bottle, but if it’s necessary I will work for food and drinks. But, if I’m going to help you we are going to need way more than that.”

She finishes her sentence grabbing more bottles while traveling through the aisles. The sound of you’ve got to try this one and this one’s local in between aisle changes filling the store. You assure her that she is not off the hook with helping even with the promise of the “best merlot you’ve ever had in your life.”

Bags filling both of your hands and way too much alcohol for just two people to consume you make your way up the steps. Hannah pauses and looks up at the house.

“I was right. It should have been demolished. Will the porch cave in before I make it inside?” She says with skepticism at the foundation of your new home.

“Probably eventually but-“ you turn around to face her, “she’ll last for now. Come on, I haven’t even showed you the best part!”

You open your door and make your way inside leaving the door open for her to follow. You faintly hear from the kitchen “I seriously doubt that”, and you can’t help your chuckle at the remark.

You’ve always wanted a fixer upper; probably from all the HGTV shows you immersed yourself in as a child and the fact you’ve only ever lived in apartments. The first and only thing you managed to unpack first was your wine glasses. You definitely made a point to label them in big writing while packing up back home. A decision you are patting yourself on the back for now.

“So, do you like pizza? I know a good place. Pizza and wine should always be paired with move-in days. Oh, you’re right. This is probably the only good part of your house.”

Hannah leaned on the counter next you before shifting to test the weight taking in the scene of your kitchen.

“Love pizza. It’s not there yet, but I definitely have some plans with it; starting with keeping the color of those cabinets.”

In between sips of your glasses of wine you start to collaborate over your ideas of making it functional and aesthetically pleasing.

It didn’t take very long to start building friendships with the people in your area. You even started joining Sunday brunches and you were overly ecstatic finding out that bottomless mimosas existed. They didn’t have these at the diners back home. They even started assisting you with choosing paint swatches and going to Home Depot because you just had try that DIY project of making your own lounge chair that you found scrolling on Youtube.

“I think your measurements are a little off.”

Alex, probably one of your favorites of the group, mirrors the tilt of your head with his arms crossed. He co-owns a woodworking business with his husband so you wanted him there for any adjustments and moral support. Unfortunately for you, he wanted you to learn first which really meant fail.

You grimace at your handiwork and say, “yeah, I think maybe I should stick with what I’m good at.”

With a breathy laugh he adds, “give yourself some credit. You managed to tear up the carpet in the living room AND still able to keep the original hardwood. That’s no easy feat.”

You’ve somehow managed to create a whole support system in the little time that you’ve spent here. You’ve finally had the time and resources to create your own little touches that make your house now a home.

“Hannah, can’t we just stay in tonight? I’ve already been defeated twice by the light fixture in the living and my fingers are still tingling from the faulty power box. I’m really not in the mood.”

You give her the biggest puppy eyes you can manage while exaggeratingly lifting you fingers.

“Oh no, you’re going out to the bar tonight. You’ve been here for months and you really need to get yourself out there. You’re hot. Own it. Besides, it’s just you and me so there’s no pressure.”

She says with a swat to your ass and a push towards your closet. The only response you can add to that is Hmph.

The bar is nice enough with the dim lighting and it’s not so loud that you can’t hear yourself talk. Hannah insisted you wear one of your nicer dresses, but you wanted to feel like yourself so you opted for a t-shirt tucked into light wash jeans. If you were going to meet anyone tonight you wanted to set the standard for anything that could happen at the start. You’re still nursing your second beer while Hannah is on her third shot of the night. You feel a presence to your right and a sharp pinch to your thigh on your left. Hannah is of course attempting to alert you to the attractive man on the other side of you as if you didn’t notice. You turn around with a pained look on your face to her which she just shrugs off before making herself scarce.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Your attention is brought back to the man to your right. He is very cute in a boyish kind of way and you briefly wonder if he’s talking to someone else. He’s dressed like he just got out of a business meeting, but his rolled sleeves are definitely doing something for you.

“Sure. What’s your name?” You say with the flirtiest smile you can muster.

“Joey. Nice to meet you.”

God, his smile must do wonders for his conquests. It’s working for you quite honestly. You completely lose track of time talking to him and see out of the corner of your eye Hannah leaving the bar holding onto a man with salt and pepper hair and scruff. Looks like she got lucky too. She gives you a wink as she walks out the door and you look to see where he was sitting in case you need to remember faces. Seems like he was out with some of his friends, but you didn’t get a thorough look because your attention is immediately brought back to Joey. You set a reminder for yourself to check in with her before you go to bed tonight.

It’s been a constant date after date and you were really beginning to develop feelings for him. Sure, you always tried to convince him you didn’t need to be wooed with all these extravagant dates. You were just happy to spend time with him. You didn’t need to go to a fancy restaurant to tell you that. It just wasn’t your style, but it made him happy so you went along with it. You had initially assumed him to be a one night stand, but you were pleasantly surprised to hear from him the next day asking to take you out dinner.

Your muscles in your stomach are straining from how hard you’re laughing at America’s Funniest Home Videos on the TV. Joey is sitting next to you on the couch with takeout cartons loitered all over your coffee table. The living room is starting to lose its natural lighting due to the day coming to a close; the only light source in the room being the lamp sitting on the end table next to the couch and the glow from the TV. You notice Joey looking at you with a far off look.

“What’s wrong?” You ask with a furrow in your brow. “Nothing.” His face shifting to a more pleasant tone once he turns back to the TV. The two of you had settled into a routine at your house. You had even introduced him to your friends and they really seemed to enjoy spending time with him. It was easy for them to fall for his charms as you did.

“Come on, hurry up. You’re supposed to be helping me pick out an outfit for tonight!”

Hannah still continued to see the man from the bar, Santi, his friends called him.

“If I’m supposed to be helping you pick an outfit then why are we in the lingerie section?” You ask with a sly grin on your face.

“That’s for after, of course. Gotta keep it interesting.”

Her laugh followed by her adding some bras and panties to her hands. You agreed to come with her tonight to officially meet him and his friends. You’ve heard enough about him from her. Some very intimate details as well. They weren’t exactly exclusive to each other and as far as you knew they were dating other people which you respected. You were nervous about meeting them, but you knew it was only a matter of time until Hannah would want to do this. You trusted her judgment and you were already comfortable that it was going to be in the bar you usually ventured out to.

In her words, “your only forms of entertainment can’t just be your home projects, Joey and me, you know? You deserve to have fun too and these guys will show you a good time I promise” while ringing up her purchases.

You barely manage to make it through the door of the bar before you feel a breeze next to you from her speeding to Santi with a kiss. You lovingly shake your head at her dramatic antics and make your way over to the table. It’s a little awkward at first since Hannah still had yet to let go of the man sitting next to her and you didn’t know how to start a conversation with these men with what was going on next to you.

“Sorry. I’m Santi, but everyone calls me Pope.”

He reaches over to shake your hand with a tone that is definitely not apologetic at all, but you find it amusing. You like him already. You can definitely see why Hannah was interested, but not your type.

He starts introducing his friends off to you. Will. He seems like the more mellow type of the group and his call sign is Ironhead. Benny is just Benny since he’s the baby of the group.

“He’s the menace of all of us so watch out for this one.” Will ruffles his brother’s hair for added measure which Benny recoils from.

Then, Frankie, they call him Catfish. Oh he’s handsome, but not in the boyish way that Joey is. He’s handsome in a more ruggish kind of way and you can’t seem to break eye contact from him. Your eyes don’t know where to go first so they travel from his deep brown eyes, to the bare patches on the beard he can’t seem to grow that you find yourself wanting to kiss, and to the curls peeking out of his standard heating oil hat. You find yourself itching to take that hat off and run your fingers through the nape of his hair.  Stop. He’s the more reserved one in the group which makes sense since he really hasn’t fully spoken more than a few words at a time to you. You can’t control the side glances you keep shooting at him throughout the night. You’re just appreciating the view and maybe conjuring up a few very much domestic fantasies in your head. Liar.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to get a grip on your emotions. Tilting your head at your reflection you point an accusing finger “get yourself together. You ca—.“  You jump at the intrusion of an elderly woman walking into the otherwise empty bathroom; a quizzical look forming on her face from your actions. Your nervous laugh gets the best of you. “It isn’t what it- I don’t always do this.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to explain yourself since she’s already closed the stall before you even got the chance to finish your sentence. You find yourself even more flustered leaving the bathroom than before going into it. This is going to be a long night.

***

Frankie was nervous when Santi first told him that Hannah would be bringing a friend. He remembers you from the night Santi first left with her. How could he forget? You had his attention the moment you stepped into the bar, but by the time he finally worked up the nerve to talk to you another guy had already swooped in. It wasn’t that surprising considering and it was probably for the best. He really wasn’t in any headspace to be in a relationship. His eyes followed you when you left to go to the bathroom in a hurry and he could just feel Santi’s eyes burning into him. He knew. You were exactly his type and he hoped to whoever was up above that he would just leave him to his hopeless crush without interfering.

***

You sit down at the table preparing to come up with some segway into the conversation between everyone when Santi breaks it with a loud clap calling your name out. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

You miss the glare that Frankie shoots him and the embarrassed groan he makes. You don’t miss the warning tone Will gives when calling Santi’s name out, but you get the feeling you’re not entitled to know what that’s about.

“Yes, I am.” Why does it feel so wrong to say that? “His name is Joey.” Hannah chimes in while rubbing Santi’s shoulders.

You also miss the sight of Frankie’s shoulders deflating at that piece of information. Your answer seems to satisfy Santi since he drops it after that and moves on to a different topic. “Benny, when’s your next fight?” It’s Friday apparently and all the guys along with Hannah are going to support him.

Will shifts towards you and says, “you can come if you want.” You cringe on the inside; your insecurities getting the best of you. If you want. They’re only inviting you because you’re there at the moment. “Maybe.” You won’t.

Somehow, Hannah has convinced you to go out with them a second time. “Come on, you can bring Joey since you’re so nervous! Please bring him,” she says with pleading eyes.

“I’m not nervous!” Liar. There is a sliver of truth to her statement, but you don’t want to tell her the reason for your nerves is seeing Frankie again. Yet here you were sitting in a booth with Joey across from Hannah and the rest of the guys.

“Jesus Hannah, he’s not going anywhere.”

You say with a loud laugh at her not so subtle PDA with Santi. “Sorry.” She said with a swipe of trying to remove her lipstick from Santi’s face; her smile never leaving her face. Frankie hasn’t looked at you at all tonight and you can’t help but wonder what you did wrong. You see those eyes crinkle and that cute dimple when he’s dedicating his attention to everyone else at the table, but disappears when his eyes go in your general direction.

At some point the guys and Hannah walk off to buy more drinks leaving you with Joey. He’s hasn’t hid his disinterest of the night at all even when the guys were trying to include him.

“Why are you so grumpy?” “I’m not.” His deep sigh a dead giveaway to his sour mood. “I’m just not vibing with them that’s all.” His eyes following the guys by single file line as he said it. You assure him that you can leave soon which after an hour or so you do.

Tonight’s events must have tired you out more than you thought because you’re fighting yawns the entire ride to Joey’s apartment. You don’t usually spend time here since he prefers staying at your place, but his place was a lot closer to the bar. The minute you walk inside you walk straight to his bedroom so you can promptly pass out as Joey showers. As you start to pull back the blankets something catches your eye. That’s not mine. Your heart rate is starting to speed up at the thought that’s forming in your mind. You reach down and grab a bra that was haphazardly thrown on the floor. The thing is you’d recognize that bra anywhere because you were there when she bought it; the day you were meeting Santi for the first time. You almost didn’t hear the water being shut off in the bathroom and the footsteps coming into the bedroom.

“Hey, what’s goin o—“

His eyes follow where you’re looking and then back up to your face. He’s not even trying to defend himself or come up with some shitty excuse that wouldn’t work anyway.

“How long?” Your voice is barely managing to stay steady while still staring at the incriminating evidence of your betrayal.

“How long, Joey?” His hesitation gives you your answer. It’s been a while.

[dearkusuo]

Ch. 1 ☆ Last Christmas

Synopsis: You were intent on avoiding your ex-boyfriend all of winter break, however, your mom and her best friend had other plans lined up for you.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x reader

Tags: college au, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2.7k

m.list ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 1 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 2

Thick clouds painted the darkening sky a dull grey while streetlights began to glow over the horizon. The cold air bit the skin on your cheeks, tinting them a shade of red the moment you stepped out of the car you parked by the curb. Your fingers fumbled to button up the coat you wore as a chill ran down your frame. 

You opened up the trunk to take out your belongings stored inside, promptly closing it shut soon after. The siren of your vehicle went off once as you locked it up, and you trotted to your porch, suitcase trailing behind while you dragged it along. 

 Flashy decorations were displayed all over your front lawn, and colourful lights were strung on the tiles of your roof. You resignedly shook your head at the extravagant presentation. 

Your parents tended to be overly zealous when it came to Christmas decorations. You’ve known that for as long as you can remember, but it didn’t make you any less hesitant to see the setup they arranged for the interior. 

Your hand drifted over the doorbell, leaving it extended in the air for a long moment. You hoped they remembered that you no longer have a house key and got home from work early. The sound of the bell rang aloud as you pressed the buzzer.

You instinctively flinched back when the door flung open seconds later. Your mother let out a squeal, wrapping her arms around you in excitement while you returned the tight embrace, a small grin gracing your lips. She hastily pulled you inside when a gust of wind passed by, causing you both to shiver. The change of temperature warmed your frigid body.

 The living room was lavishly accentuated with festive ornaments, just as you thought. Silver tinsel outlined the furniture while a heavily adorned Christmas tree noticeably stood at a corner of the room. Red stockings and green holly wreaths hung on the wall and the smell of gingerbread filled your nostrils.

Your brows lifted in surprise when you spotted your next-door neighbour sitting comfortably on your couch.

“This is unexpected,” you uttered.

Your mother’s best friend, Mrs. Saiki, stood up and ambled her way to you. She took your palms in her grip and greeted you with a hello.

"How long has it been?" She wondered.

"About a year," you answered plainly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

She brought both her hands over her lips to cover up a gasp. "It’s been that long? You really should come home more often."

A deep hum left your throat as you courteously nodded along in agreement. You turned your attention to your mother with a puzzled look on your face when she lightly tapped your shoulder 

“Before you arrived just now, Kurumi and I were thinking that it would be a great idea for us to spend the holidays together, so we decided to have a small party on Christmas Eve,” she mentioned cheerfully.

You gave another nod and replied casually, “Alright.” The two women often spent time in each other’s presence, so it wasn't unusual for them to plan on spending Christmas together. It was probably just a get-together they were having with the rest of their friends. “You two have fun then.”

“Actually, it will just be both of our families attending,” your mother corrected.

Your tone dropped an octave lower, “Oh?”. The implication that you had to be present heavily dripped from her words. Were they really expecting you to tag along with them?

"We thought it would be a great idea since you don’t come home a lot, and all of us hardly see each other anymore."

“Kusuo just returned from college this morning, and even Kusuke is visiting for a while,” Mrs. Saiki blurted out excitedly.

"It'll be like old times," your mother added.

Like old times. When your families always spent time together. When you were together. 

It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your mother and her friend happily beamed at each other, oblivious of your deteriorating mood. The turn of events left you unwilling to participate in the conversation any longer.

"I gotta go unpack,” you announced. 

“Of course, you must’ve had a long day,” Mrs. Saiki exclaimed.

“It was nice seeing you again,” you conceded, keeping up a polite smile. She gave your hand a final pat before you retreated.

"Your dad is upstairs. You should go see him first," your mother suggested.

You mumbled an acknowledgement as you marched up the second floor with your luggage in tow. As was requested, you gave a quick greeting to your father before you entered your room.

The familiar space was left in a spotless and tidied condition that led you to believe that your parents regularly dusted and maintained it in your absence. Your bedsheet was neatly tucked in without a wrinkle to be seen, and your shelves were conveniently organized. Frantically, you went through your desk drawers to check if they had snooped through your personal belongings. 

You faltered once you opened the last compartment. The sight of a wrapped present left untouched caused you to momentarily pause in shock. Your handwriting was scribbled out in black sharpie on the gift wrap, addressing it to Saiki Kusuo. 

You never did get the chance to give it to him. Closing the drawer, you made a mental note to throw it out when you got the chance. 

 You looked out the window in musing. He must’ve known that you were coming back today. The dark, dull sky was tainted white by the snowflakes that began to descend to the ground.

You padded down the stairs late in the morning. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. Your father sat on the couch, watching the broadcast that was showing on the TV.

"Hey," he said with a wave of his hand. He briefly looked at you before returning his attention to the news channel. You gave a simple greeting in return.

"I made plans to meet with Chiyo and Kokomi today. We're eating out, so I'll be back in a few hours," you explained, already halfway to the exit.

"Alright,” your father responded idly, keeping his eyes trained on the screen. “Your mom and I made plans with the neighbours as well. We might not be home by the time you get back."

"Got it," you called from outside the door frame. You made your way to your car, hopping on the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life with a twist of the ignition.

The drive took a little longer than it usually would have, as the weather from the previous night left a thin layer of ice covering the road. Fortuitously, you had snow tires installed on your automobile beforehand, ensuring that you made it to your destination safely.

Your friends were already occupying a booth by the time you arrived at the diner. They bombarded you with conversation the moment you sat down, anxious to know what you’ve been doing for the past few months. You apprehensively informed them of what your mother and her best friend had planned for Christmas Eve.

"That's not gonna end well," Kokomi remarked.

"Tell me about it. What were they thinking?" Chiyo griped. "You’d think they’d know how awkward it would be for you and Saiki since you two are, you know, exes."

"I don't think they care," you grumbled in a distressed tone.

You crossed your arms over your chest, brooding over the unwanted encounter that was sure to happen.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Kokomi asked.

You shrugged wearily before responding, "I’ll probably stay for a bit, then dip whenever I can." 

There was a high chance that you’d somehow get roped back into the party, but you currently didn’t have any other solutions to your dilemma. Anything was fine as long as you could spend as little time with him as possible.

A ruminating silence fell between the three of you.

“When did you guys break up again?” Chiyo inquired.

“Last year, on winter break. Around this time of the season.” 

You directed your focus on the plate of food you ordered as memories of the previous December flooded your mind. Your nose crinkled in concentration.

“It must’ve been hard for you guys to be in a long-distance relationship,” Chiyo pronounced with a long sigh.

The distance was never an issue for the two of you since he could teleport to your location anytime.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

 Towards the end of the relationship, it felt like you were the only one who cared enough to keep things afloat. You gave it your all while he usually lacked the initiative to make an effort out of the limited time your college workload would allow.

But it’s not like everything was his fault. You had to admit that you often pushed past his comfort zone when he was content with just spending the day peacefully at home with you.

It was your dynamic that ultimately convinced you to break up with him. The two of you simply weren’t compatible together. 

You quietly chewed on your food as you listened to the carefree chatter of Kokomi and Chiyo.

You parked the car by the curb of your house. Snowflakes fluttered to the ground once again as you stepped out of the driver’s seat. You hurriedly walked to your front door, eager to get out of the freezing weather. 

There was no response when you rang the buzzer.

You let out a frustrated groan as you remembered your dad saying no one would be home when you returned. They didn’t even bother to leave a spare key for you.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts to seek temporary shelter from a friend. Chiyo would only pry into your love life again, and you didn’t like running into Kokomi's brother. 

At this point, your best option was to stay in a random store for the next couple of hours. Your teeth began to chatter as you walked back to the front gate, ready to start your car once again.

"Oh? Look who we have here."

Your head intuitively whipped around to the source of the voice. A man with pale blonde hair strode towards you. The headgear on his head strikingly stood out.

"Kusuke? What are you doing here?" you queried.

He cocked his head to one side at your bewildered gaze.

"Did nobody tell you I was visiting for a few weeks?” 

Your eyes widened in realization as you recalled the previous night when Mrs. Saiki passingly declared that her eldest son would be returning for the holidays.

“Are you locked out?" he probed, observing your shivering frame.

You nodded timidly, unconsciously pulling your coat tighter over your torso.

"Why don't you come stop by for a bit while you wait for your parents?"

You grimaced. Knowing Kusuo, he was probably at home, minding his own business, and an interruption from both you and his brother would only put him in a foul mood. Likewise, you’d rather avoid him if you could help it.

"No, that's fine. I'll just wait at a friend's house," you insisted, shaking your head in refusal. 

"But I'm guessing none of your friends are available."

You gritted your teeth. It was always difficult to break free from Kusuke’s snare. Judging by the smirk that crept on his face, he knew that his assumption was correct. Reluctantly, you let him usher you into the Saiki residence.

Kusuke offered you a cup of tea while you patiently sat on the couch. The heat it emanated warmed your numb fingers back to life. Your eyes roamed the living room that was decorated so extravagantly, it rivalled your own. At the back of your mind, you wondered if Kusuo had teleported someplace else while you remained in his house.

 Kusuke asked you simple questions about your college experience, people you met, and your part-time job. He was being polite enough that you almost felt bad for anticipating he'd ruin the moment by being his usual overbearing self.

"Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" Kusuke inquired.

There it is. 

You didn't see how that was any of his business. A short pause lingered between you two as you kept your mouth shut. You quirked an eyebrow up in bewilderment, waiting to see where he was getting at.

"Why don't you consider going out with me?" He grinned mischievously.

"That's a lame joke, even for you," you retorted.

"How can you be so sure that I'm joking?"

You scowled at him. Kusuke didn't like people. That was enough for you to believe that he was fooling around just to get a reaction out of you. 

'What do you think you're doing?' a familiar voice rang in your mind, provoking your muscles to tense up and your jaw to lock.

He appeared out of thin air. The sight of green lenses and antennae poking out of pink hair caused you to internally panic.

"Kusuo, I was just having a chat with our lovely neighbour here." Kusuke gestured to you.

'Seems like harassment to me,' Kusuo scoffed.

"Don't be like that. It’s not like I had any ulterior motives." Kusuke chuckled. He turned to you again and imparted with a smile, "Don't take anything I've said to heart. I was just teasing you."

You figured as much, but you still couldn't help the annoyed huff you let out. 

"Did you come down here because you were feeling left out? Do you wanna join in?" Kusuke asked his little brother in a disdaining tone.

Kusuo glared at the blonde man as he quipped, 'No. I’m here to tell you to be quiet. I can hear you from upstairs.' He shifted his attention to you. The blank expression on his face caused you to fidget under his gaze.

"I got locked out of my house, so Kusuke invited me to stay here while I wait for my parents to come home," you rambled, glancing down at your lap. Although he probably already knew that.

'I'll unlock the door for you.' 

Kusuo's footsteps lightly echoed off the wooden floor. You looked up after a few seconds to see him waiting expectantly for you by the exit.

Placing down the unfinished cup of tea on the coffee table, you scrambled up from the couch. You waved goodbye to Kusuke before following his younger brother outside, softly trudging on the snow beside him.

“You look well,” you commented.

Kusuo only gave you a curt nod, a strained silence following soon after.

What did you expect? He wouldn’t bother wasting time on small talk with his ex when he was already so eager to kick you out of his house.

Both of you halted when you reached your porch. The sound of a click went off as Kusuo's hand hovered over the lock.

“Thank you,” you politely murmured, letting out a sigh in gratitude. You brazenly stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kusuo's lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were downcast, as though he were contemplating deeply. You thought nothing of it, returning your gaze forward.

Twisting the knob, you pushed the door open and stepped inside your home. You turned your head over your shoulder to say a coy goodbye, but no words escaped your lips.

He leaned into you, stopping a few inches from your face. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense look he gave you. Your heart skipped a beat as your body ignored your brain’s protests telling you to move.

‘Are you doing alright?’ he mused.

You could only nod in reply.

‘I see.’ 

His brows furrowed the slightest bit as he pulled back. If you hadn’t known him for years, you might not have noticed the flickering emotion on his face. You turned your body around to get a better look at him. 

Was he worried for you? It was a possibility. The two of you left on a bad note after all, and Kusuo never liked hurting someone’s feelings. Even if he didn’t care for that person anymore.

‘That’s not the case.’

"Huh?"

He vanished before your sight, leaving you standing by the door frame. The cold air breezed into your home as you wondered what he meant.

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

summary: a chance encounter puts Fiona Tanner in the sights of the Cullen family. Emmett takes an immediate liking to her, but Edward thinks she's a threat to the family. No Emmett x Rosalie. warnings: kidnapping, ooc behaviour? words: 4kish

FIONA TANNER SEATTLE, DAY 1

From the moment her boots hit the cement on the busy Seattle sidewalk, the search was on. Holding tightly to the handle of her suitcase she tried to get her bearings. Fiona Tanner’s sister had been missing for months. The cops had nothing, and they weren’t taking any of Fiona’s advice.

“Let us do our jobs, ma’am. We’ll find your sister…” had not so slowly turned into “we can’t find someone that doesn’t want to be found.” Insinuating that her sister had run away with some boy, over the fact that the cops simply hadn’t done a good enough job. Bree was a troubled kid, who left home in a hurry before she’d turned fifteen. But she always stayed in contact with Fiona. Little messages from burner phones to let her sister know that she was okay.

A person could only drag their sister back just to watch her run away again so many times before they needed an alternative solution.

Like she was going to just sit around and hope that they were right. She was an extra set of eyes and ears. There was nothing that could stand between her, and finding her sister. At the very least she was going to get the truth.

Besides, she knew for a fact that her sister was dead.

The bus dropped Fiona off in front of an old diner. It looked out of place next to two modern buildings, but the charm of it drew her in. The ladies inside were friendly, offering her a table and some coffee. She ordered a burger with fries and a root beer. While the waitress withdrew to the kitchen, Fiona pulled out a map of the city that she had started using as her guide to remember everything. The map and a small notebook she’d bought at the dollar store.

The map had a small blue X over a bookstore just a few blocks over, which was her first stop after getting some lunch. Now seemed like the best time to take stock of everything she knew so far.

Bree’s friends had no idea where she was. But they weren’t the brightest bunch, and not really the trustworthy type either.

Another boy from the area had gone missing recently as well. Riley Biers, last seen in May, 2010. He went missing near Pike Place Market.

Bree wouldn’t ever just run away with someone without telling her. She was in trouble.

And that was it. That was all Fiona knew.

But the family couldn’t just move on. Bree had looked exactly like Fiona did at her age. It became a curse when her own parents would struggle to look into her eyes, preferring to stare into their glass whenever she entered the room. It was like that a year ago, but when she had to tell her parents that she’d been talking to Bree, and hadn’t told them…

Being away from them wasn’t the worst thing right now.

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about at that moment. Her concentration needed to be on her investigation.

“Here ya go,” the waitress said, setting down the plate of food. Fiona smiled, and slid her map out of the way. She was starving.

She picked up a fry and brought it to her mouth, but suddenly felt… wrong. There was a weird feeling in her mind. Like someone was watching. No, not watching. Listening.

Then clear as day she heard it. This tiny little nagging voice that had started harassing her a few weeks ago. It sounded just like her sister, except this voice was deeper, raspy like she was dying of thirst.

Run, Fiona.

She put the fry back and grabbed a twenty from her wallet, strolling up to the counter to pay and get a to go container. Fiona kept her cool, but kept her defences up.

Don’t think about me.

Fiona looked around the diner. There were two teens taking pictures of their milkshakes and giggling. Then there was a couple. A girl and an Abercrombie model. Only one plate of food between them.

As if on cue, the boy picked up one of her fries and put it in his mouth. But Fiona didn’t miss the confused look on the girls’ face when he did it. He whispered something under his breath that made the girl look down, her hair making a waterfall to block out her face. But it didn’t matter, Fiona had his face painted in her memories.

I said, run!

The voice was annoying. But the scary thing to Fiona, was that she could hear dead people. Kind of like a medium, but she suppressed it. Pushed it down, down, down until it was suffocated. Bree, however, always knew how to get under Fiona’s skin.

Please, Fiona thought, just tell me what happened.

I told you, it’s not safe. Go home!

“Lady?” said the waitress, holding out the change to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Fiona said, putting her phoney smile back on. “Sorry, keep the change.” She took her to go box to the table and threw the fries in it, and everything else she owned back in her bag. She flipped it over one shoulder gracefully and grabbed her burger, taking a big bite of it. She looked back at the couple, but caught his narrowed eyes staring at her.

He was the one listening. She tried to immediately cover her thoughts by thinking the alphabet as loud as possible, but she could read from the look on his face that it was too late.

You’re going to get hurt. Bree had been fighting Fiona every step of the way. Putting fake clues in her mind, trying to push out clues that were helpful…

It was annoying.

C’mon Bree, Fiona thought. Gimme a clue.

How about a hint?

Yes, Bree! Please give me a hint.

Okay, go home. That’s your hint. Goodnight.

Goodnight, yourself. It’s not even dark out.

FIONA TANNER SEATTLE, DAY 2

Wake up!! Bree was shouting. It was frantic, unlike anything Fiona had ever heard before. Please, Fiona, please, wake up!! Someone is in the bathroom!

In a second, all of the grogginess was wiped away. Fiona sat up quickly, pulling the blankets to her chest. She had triple, quadruple checked that the door was locked before bed. And she could see that it was still locked now. How could someone have…

I think… they’re leaving.

How?? Fiona was starting to shake. There’s no window in there.

Then something in the air shifted. And the only reason she knew something was different was the tiny breeze she felt on her face, and the fact that the door wasn’t locked anymore.

Who was in here, Bree?

I’m not telling.

But you know?

No.

Liar.

Fiona rubbed her temples. Bree’s yelling had given her a headache. To make things worse, Bree was loudly singing, “go hoooooome” over and over. Fiona got up, changed out of her pyjamas into jeans and a white tee. And pulled her boots on. She has at the edge of the bed for a minute, her head in her hands as she took some deep breaths.

Fiona looked out the window, and noticed something bizarre. There was a girl, standing stiff as a board. And Bree went radio silent.

Know that girl?

When Bree didn’t answer, Fiona dropped down, hiding herself out of view. Holy shit! Do you actually know that girl?

Fiona was getting tired of this. If Bree wasn’t going to talk, someone else was going to. With reckless abandon, she threw open the door and stomped across the parking lot, not really caring that this girl was starring at her.

“Do you know Bree Tanner?” Fiona asked loudly, before she was even close to the girl.

Shut up! Shut up! You have no idea what you’re starting!

“Excuse me?” said the girl. She was impossibly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that wasn’t even fair for the rest of the world.

“My sister is Bree Tanner, and I think she knows you.”

“And how could you know that?”

“She told me.”

“I doubt that.”

“Why? Because she’s dead?”

The girl shut up after that. Fiona was getting sick and tired of no one answering her questions. She knew she was playing with fire, but she didn’t care. If this girl was some drug dealer who got Bree killed, she was going to find out. And she wanted to find out today, right now.

“I don’t care what shit you’re in with the police, I just want to know what happened to her.”

Shut. Up! Or you’ll be dead like me.

The girl didn’t speak again. “Do you know the boy who listens?”

The next five seconds went faster than she could have possibly believed. She was suddenly in complete darkness. With all her belongings beside her. In a small, tight space. Where was she? What happened.

You’re in a TRUNK, dumbass, you just got kidnapped.

Well that, was bad news for Fiona. She wanted to scream but her mouth was covered. She wanted to fight but her hands were tied. How did that happen? How did she miss her own kidnapping?

The boy who could listen was here. Probably in the car. She could feel him in there.

“How could she know this much?” The beautiful girl asked. Fiona had no idea why, but she could hear them in her head. In her mind.

“Be quiet,” he said sharply.

Silence.

“She can hear us,” he said. “I can’t… I can’t look in her mind, I’m just hearing my words echoed back, louder than her thoughts. I think she’s burying them.”

Instead of burying them, she turned it around. Played it loud like shouting into a megaphone. Did you do this to Bree, too? And then she projected Bree’s image. She closed her eyes and tried to push every detail of her sister’s face into his mind. But, he edited it. Saw it the way he saw it, with bright red eyes. She felt the car swerve violently and she cracked her arm as she rolled onto it. It hurt so badly. She hoped it wasn’t broken but the way her fingers stopped responding to her made her worried.

“Knock it off!” he shouted.

“What?” His passenger asked. Don’t be rude, she thought.

Not you, Rosalie. Did the listening boy think that?

It was getting too confusing for her to keep all these voices straight. Rosalie was sitting with the boy who listens. She didn’t know his name. It made no sense, how could she hear them? She could only ever hear the dead, but this wasn’t the same. Bree sounded like she was in the middle of Fiona’s brain, but the other two… they sounded like Fiona was listening to them from a couple feet away. They were on the outside, and Bree was on the inside.

Please, Bree begged, I don’t know how to help you now.

It didn’t matter. Fiona passed out.

EMMETT CULLEN FORKS, DAY 1

Emmett hated when the family went into crisis mode. Jasper didn’t want to play chess because he was too busy fretting over Alice. Edward was having four panic attacks a day thinking that these “loose ends” were going to get Bella killed. And Carlisle and Esme were making Plan B arrangements in case they had to move, which is what everyone kept saying. No one was brave enough to say in case we have to kill her.

He heard Edward and Rosalie driving over the speed limit. Faster than ever, maybe. And he was excited to at least see some kind of action around here. Ever since he got to the house everyone has treated him like he’s stupid. Which he was not.

“Jasper!” Emmett called, beaming up the stairs. “They’re coming!”

“Yes, thank you Emmett. I hear them too.” Jasper spoke normally. Knowing Emmett could hear him through the walls.

Edward skidded his car to a quick stop in front of the house. Emmett happily joined Carlisle and Esme on the front lawn. They had all agreed to greet their guest and try to explain things as civilly as possible. Edward and Rosalie were supposed to go get her, invite her on a tour around town and then invite her for a dinner. Emmett was excited to make a friend, and also excited to watch his family force down a pizza. They all got so miserable after eating human food.

“Oh dear,” Esme said.

Emmett didn’t understand what the big deal was. Edward was out of the car, talking to Bella on the phone. The wedding was still a ways away, this was only supposed to be a minor inconvenience. Rosalie had run off into the woods before even greeting anyone. She hadn’t been coping well lately and hadn’t spent much time talking to anyone. Not that she was very friendly on a regular basis.

Only then did Emmett notice that the car door was open, but he could tell the heartbeat he heard and the blood he smelled was behind a wall of metal. She wasn’t in the backseat. They put her in the trunk?

Seemed a little rude.

The girl was bleeding back there too. Probably why Rosalie had to run. He couldn’t blame her, this girl smelled so good. She smelled like joy would taste.

“Pop the trunk!” Emmett said, laughing at Edward’s constipated expression.

“Emmett,” Carlisle whispered. His dad didn’t want to make a joke out of this. “Edward, please.”

Edward didn’t get off his phone call but clicked open the trunk with his keys. Emmett and Carlisle ran over to examine the damage.

As soon as Emmett saw her, he was smitten. Absolutely smitten. She was so pretty. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Short black hair, round little face with the pinkest lips in the world. And they looked like they would be so fun to kiss. Emmett was aware his brother wasn’t answering Bella, and instead was staring at Emmett, but he didn’t care though. He could see the relation to Bree in her features, but she was definitely older.

“Her arm is broken,” he said. “I’ll bring her to my office and set it, and cast it.”

Esme coughed for a moment, briefly distracted by the pooling of blood in the trunk of Edward’s Volvo. “Need anything from your office, dear?”

Emmett could see the appreciation on Carlisle’s face. Emmett wanted love like these two had. Or like Alice and Jasper. Or Edward and Bella. Or Rosalie and her reflection. Carlisle gave her a short list of things he would need to cast her arm, he was only missing a few things that he had used before they came back to town.

Carlisle reached to pick her up, but Emmett swatted his hands away quickly. Not harshly, as it wasn’t meant to hurt Carlisle. But Emmett had to do it himself. He had to be the one to carry this girl. It didn’t matter what Edward wanted. No one was going to hurt her. Edward doesn’t get to always have everything his way.

“What’s her name again?” Emmett asked, his voice more gentle than they’s ever heard it as he gingerly picked her up.

“Fiona.” Carlisle watched Emmett’s every move.

“Fiona,” Emmett repeated quietly.

He didn’t want her to wake up, so he walked slowly through the house. Setting her down on the space Carlisle made on the desk. The blood didn’t bother Emmett for even a moment. He never even hesitated. He just brushed the hair off her face, and waited while Carlisle worked.

“You seem to have taken to this girl.”

“I just think she’s pretty,” Emmett said. “It’s not her fault about her sister. If one of us went missing, would you not stop at nothing to get us back?”

“You’re right about that.” Carlisle looked pained. “May I ask you something, Emmett?”

“Yeah, of course.” Emmett didn’t look up from the girl’s face, and instead dragged his fingers softly around the edge of her face. Maybe she would be his Bella.

Was it creepy to be thinking this before she had a chance to wake up and meet him? He can’t just claim her, only hope that she was as fascinated by him.

Edward came through the door before Carlisle could ask about what Emmett was thinking. Edward was clearly mad. Esme slipped in, giving Carlisle the things he asked for, but opted to slip out and remove herself from the blood. Emmett understood, Fiona smelled as tempting as a fresh apple pie.

“Why is she untied?” he asked, grabbed the abandoned tie off the ground. It was all he’d had to tie her up with at the time.

“Do you think she needs to be?” Carlisle asks.

“Yes, I do.” Edward crossed his arms. Emmett was getting irritated by the vibe in the room. It was bad vibes in here.

“No, Edward.” Carlisle kept working. “We don’t hold hostages.”

“You’re right, we should just kill her now,” he said, cooly. As if it wasn’t a person they were talking about. Carlisle paused, but continued.

Emmett stood up tall, puffing his chest out and blocking Edward’s view of Fiona.

“You’re not touching her,” he said.

“Are you going to stop me, Emmett?” Edward asked. “You don’t even know her.”

“I know that I’m not a danger to her,” he said. “And you are. So get out while Carlisle works.”

“You’ve lost your…” Edward trailed off, and dropped to his knees clutching his head. Emmett stooped down on one knee, immediately changing from being worried about this girl to worried about his brother. “It’s her.”

Fiona was stirring awake, Carlisle finishing and clearing himself just in time for her to start squirming.

“Oh my god, her thoughts - there’s so many…” Edward tried to clear a path, try to sort between her thoughts and the thoughts of others’ that lived in her mind. “They’re not hers.”

“STOP!” she shouted, sitting perfectly up. “My sister doesn’t know the truth, she’s no danger to the secret.”

“Fiona?” Carlisle asked. Everyone was totally stunned. The girl looked lifeless behind her eyes, like this wasn’t her but a cheap replication of her. Other than sitting up, her limbs were still and lifeless, no sign of pain or distress.

“Bree.”

“Bree?” Esme said, slipping in the door. “Bree is it really you?” Esme fluttered over, putting her hands on the girls’ face. She was close to tears. “I’m so sorry.” Esme had been feeling guilty over Bree everyday since it had happened.

“Esme,” Carlisle said softly. He didn’t want to silence his wife, but he didn’t know how much time they had to talk to her.

“She doesn’t know what really happened. You still have time to lie. Don’t kill her.”

“Don’t worry little buddy,” Emmett said. “No one is going to hurt Fiona.”

“Remains to be seen,” Edward muttered.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Sounds like family meeting time,” Esme said. “I’ll go find the others.” She slipped outside the office.

“I don’t understand,” Fiona said, her eyes focused. Her voice settled. It was her now. There was life in her eyes, but also fear, and she touched the cast on her arm. Even her voice was beautiful. Is this how the dogs feel? Emmett had never felt stronger than right now. Emmett didn’t move towards her for fear of startling her, she was so small.

“She can’t stay up here alone,” Edward said.

“I trust Carlisle to speak for me,” Emmett said, looking at Fiona. She was frightened, but brave. Trying to establish her surroundings. “I’m not going to let you hurt her no matter what you say anyway.”

“You’re risking everything,” Edward said. “For someone you don’t even know.”

“Sound familiar?” Emmett asked, scoffing. “I always had your back, even when I didn’t get it.”

Edward flashed a look of guilt but shook it off. Emmett knew they couldn’t keep taking risks like this, but she wasn’t a risk, she was a person. As fast as he’s ever run, Emmett grabbed her things from the car, and dropped them right at her feet. She was shaking, clearly terrified.

“How did you do that?”

“Your phone is in there, I checked.” Emmett heard his family go silent. The conversation was a waste of time anyway, it was just Carlisle trying to convince Edward that there were more options than murder. “I won’t stop you from calling 911. We are the Cullens, you’re in Forks. I’ll even give you the number for Chief-”

“Emmett!” Rosalie yelled. But Emmett got to the door first. Holding it shut from Rosalie’s destructive fists. It cracked and splintered under her heavy hits. “If we have to start over you are so dead.”

FIONA TANNER FORKS, DAY 1

Fiona was crying now. Confused by all the thoughts in her head. She could hear the whole family. Pieces of the conversation downstairs. She could hear the listener getting mad. He didn’t like his own thoughts being repeated back to him but she couldn’t help that. There was also the typical voices that she usually had buried, but coming out of whatever happened to her allowed them to flood in. People screaming in pain, or begging for help, or just taunting her for the fun of it. What did the boy who listens make of her?

“I’m not calling the police,” she whispered. “I just want to know what happened to Bree.”

Rosalie stopped busting the door at Carlisle’s request. But each of her exaggerated stomps could be heard as she left the house. She turned on music in the garage and started fussing with her cars. Emmett just looked at her, welcoming her to make the first move.

“You’re Emmett?”

“Yes.” For his huge stature, he seemed so kind and timid to her. She could hear him thinking about her. And it was so, so flattering.

“Are you dead?”

“Yes.”

“Then how are you alive?”

“I don’t know if I should answer that right now,” he said. “Let’s skip for now.”

“Was Bree dead?”

“I thought you already knew she was dead.” Emmett looked down. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“I meant… uhm… when you met her, for the first time, was she already dead?”

“Yes.”

“Explains why I can hear you twice.” She needed a minute to process all of this. How was she supposed to process all of this?

“Can you hear me think?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” he said, lowering his head. “That’s kind of embarrassing.”

Fiona smiled, and chuckled. Which made Emmett smile and chuckle. It was quiet in the room for a minute. Fiona tried to sort out her thoughts and Emmett watched her.

“I really don’t want to cause any trouble for your family,” she said. “Can you just tell me what happened to my sister?”

“No one here hurt her,” Emmett said. “We were trying to save her but there are some people who just… get their way.”

“Why did they want to hurt her?”

“Can I skip?” he asked.

She nodded lightly. His vague answers were disappointing but he seemed genuine, and it was probably a “the less you know the better” kind of deal around here. Maybe she should’ve listened to Bree.

You think? Bree thought. She sounded weak after taking control of of Fiona.

“Am I going to die, Emmett?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“No, I’ve got you now. You’ll be safe with me.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Epilogue

AN: It’s here... THE END!!! I’m almost sad to finish this fic off but I have absolutely loved writing it. Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged/commented/sent asks or spoke to me about this fic it means so much to me and I really appreciate you!!

warning: adult content ahead

previous chapter - masterlist - ao3

-- 

~1 year later~

“You need to rip the band-aid right off.”

Rowan could barely hold in his sigh at Lorcan’s pronouncement. He shared a look with Aedion who looked as baffled as Rowan felt. 

“What the fuck?” Aedion shook his head. “This is not the kind of thing you just ‘rip off’.”

“How do you have a girlfriend?” Fenrys’ bewildered voice came from Rowan’s side. 

Lorcan shrugged, unbothered by each of their reactions. “Don’t mess around. Just ask her, simple. Then it’s done.”

“Gods, above,” Rowan muttered. 

“I should never have asked you three, I should have gone to Aelin. Or even Dorian.” Aedion sighed before clasping his hands in front of himself. “Okay, serious suggestions only.”

“That was a serious suggestion.” Lorcan said, not attempting to hide his indignation. 

Aedion ignored him. “Fenrys go.”

The golden haired male took a moment to consider, barely holding back from stroking his chin as he considered the prompt. Of all of them, Fenrys had been in a relationship for the shortest amount of time, he and Dorian had only declared their relationship a few months earlier, even though Rowan knew things had been brewing for far longer. 

It was strange to think that all four of them were in committed relationships, especially as they all still lived in what had been the bachelor pad of their first apartment together.

Rowan would never admit it out loud, but he felt sentimental to the old loft, even with it’s broken window and ever leaking shower. The draughty exposed brick would always remind him of the parkour phase Aedion and Fenrys had gone through not long after they had moved in. They had taken every opportunity they could to throw themselves around the loft without any kind of skill and they had only stopped after their neighbour complained of unexplained banging noises.

The red stain on the hardwood floor, now covered by a blue bean bag chair, would always remind him of the time Aedion had brought home a girl who had–for reasons still unknown to Rowan–thrown a bottle of red wine at his head. None of them had bothered to clean the stain, in fact Lorcan had posed for a photo with it and Fenrys had framed it on their refrigerator where it had stayed for years. 

His main memory of their loft however, would always be their front door. The slab of wood, with it’s peeling grey paint and the lock that often stuck shut unless it was jiggled just so, would always remind him of Aelin. Rowan knew he wore a ridiculously soft smile at the thought, but he would always be grateful for the loft for bringing him to Aelin. Or more accurately, for bringing Aelin to him.

He swallowed the sly smirk that threatened at the memory of the time he had taken her against the door. She had wrapped her long legs around his waist as he had pounded into her and her nails had clawed his back as she had moaned in his ear. He had buried his teeth into her neck, savouring the salty and sweet taste of her skin on his tongue. He hadn’t been able to leave the loft without getting semi-hard for weeks. 

“What are your first memories of Lysandra?” Fenrys asked eventually, somehow pulling Rowan’s thoughts from Aelin. It was a difficult task, even over a year into their relationship Rowan was still completely enamoured. “If you want to go big you could do something to do with that, girls love sappy shit.”

Rowan smiled as Lorcan nodded solemnly, finally appearing to take Aedion’s request for help seriously. His best friend seemed to consider the suggestion, crossing his arms over his broad chest and surveying the three of them where they sat before him. 

“That could work.” He said slowly. 

“Great.” Fenrys grinned. “We need to brainstorm. What are your big moments with Lysandra? Like when did you and Lys first meet?”

Aedion shrugged again. “I knew of her for years through Aelin but I only remember meeting her properly when Aelin moved in.”

Fenrys’ enthusiasm was rapidly gaining momentum. “Right, and any special memories from then? Any big gestures you could make as a throwback?”

Aedion’s eyes widened before a burst of laughter sprung from his lips. Rowan shared a look with Lorcan who shrugged. 

“I told her I’d marry her then,” Aedion said, shaking his head and running a hand through his shoulder length hair. 

“What?” Rowan barked his disbelief.

“You’re not serious.” Even Fenrys seemed bewildered.

Aedion only laughed again. “I said ‘girl, imma marry you’.”

Rowan groaned as he lifted a hand to cup his forehead before dragging it down over his eyes. 

“You’re no better than him.” Fenrys said with a shake of his head as he gestured to Lorcan who did nothing but smirk back at him. 

Aedion flipped him off. “I don’t come close to his level of inadequacy, at least I can actively take steps towards relationship milestones. Have you even brought up moving in with Elide to her yet?”

Lorcan scowled, before muttering, “don’t change the subject.”

Aedion took a sharp intake of breath, reading himself to speak, and Rowan dragged his hand away from his eyes. There wasn’t time to let those two get into it.

“Not to in any way agree with Lorcan but I think he could have a point,” He said quickly. “You love her and want to marry her, tell her that. Down on one knee with the ring, I doubt she’d say no.”

Rowan knew his words were the truth. He had known Aedion for a decade now and he had never seen his best friend as smitten as he was with Lysandra, nor had he seen him so secure. Aedion and Lysandra played off each other, she settled him and he excited her. 

Rowan knew Lysandra would say yes but he understood Aedion’s need to over-prepare. While it was standard for Aedion to mull over the details, his mind was one for strategy and weighing-up the risks and it was part of what made him so good at his job, and Rowan knew that while this wasn’t a risk, it was important to his friend to get it right.

Proposing to Aelin was a thought that had drifted around the edges of Rowan’s mind for a while. From the start Rowan had known Aelin was it for him and he knew he wanted to marry her at some point in the future but the pressure of how to do it right, the way to make it right for Aelin was a task he knew he’d work hard on. 

He knew Aelin would say yes even if he asked her over a mouthful of food at their kitchen counter but he also knew that she was a princess at heart with a taste for finery and he wanted to spoil her. It was a luxury in itself for Rowan that he could. Since taking over the bar, even with the large loan he had taken out, his bank account had a healthy level of cushioning that he loved using to take Aelin for weekends away or to fancy restaurants. 

There was a savings account that he and Aelin threw money into every month for whenever they felt ready to move out of the loft, but there was also a separate savings account that Aelin was unaware of that Rowan was saving for something shiny. 

“Thanks,” Aedion said, shaking himself somewhat. Rowan nodded, amused at the level of detail and reassurance Aedion appeared to need.

“You need to relax,” Fenrys’ chimed in, voicing Rowan’s thoughts aloud. “You’re overthinking it.”

“He’s right.” Rowan swallowed. “Just tell her the truth. Tell her you love her, how much you want to spend the rest of your life with her and how much she makes you smile every day. Tell her how you want to be eighty and still holding her hand, or how you hate the thought of going a single day without her.”

“Gods,” Fenrys scoffed as Lorcan snickered. “You’re making me want to marry you.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “You’re welcome to take notes.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need to.”

“Really? Not thinking of getting down on one knee for Dorian?”

Fenrys smirked. “I get on my knees for Dorian plenty, but no.”

“Why not?” Rowan asked, ignoring the comment and daring to bite, knowing he’d likely regret it.

“He’ll be the one proposing to me,” Fenrys explained as if it were obvious.

Rowan laughed, Aedion and Lorcan’s laughter echoing his own.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Fenrys turned to Lorcan. “Your proposal skills need some serious work.”

Lorcan shrugged, unfazed as ever. “Maybe I’ll let Elide propose to me too.”

Rowan snickered at the image of the tiny woman on one knee before his giant of a friend. He sobered when he paused to consider it, Elide probably was the kind of woman who could propose to Lorcan, she had him wrapped completely around her little finger. 

“I can see it.”

“She takes what she wants, it’s hot.”

Rowan laughed again. “You could take her name too, Lorcan Lochan has a good ring to it.”

Fenrys’ howl of laughter from his side brought a grin to Rowan’s lips as he looked to his friend who’s eyes darkened at the ribbing. 

“Lorcan Lochan,” Aedion repeated through a laugh. “Please, I’d pay money to see it.”

Rowan smiled as his friends continued their teasing and his mind wandered through the possibilities. Aelin had a number of surnames already but he quite liked the sound of Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. 

-- 

“You are not allowed to move in here.”

The panic in Lysandra’s green eyes as she hurtled around the corner was almost comical. 

“Why not? What’s wrong?” She demanded.

Aelin ran a thoughtful finger along the sleek, oak mantelpiece admiring each of the twisting lines running through the wood. To the side of the fireplace sat a tall window, letting in plenty of warm daylight that reflected off the shining hardwood floors and crept into each of the corners of the large room. The archway Lysandra stood under led to the open plan kitchen-diner with it’s sleek marble countertops and extended dining table that could seat their whole group of friends. 

“If you move in here I’ll be too jealous.”

Lysandra slumped in relief, leaning a shoulder against the archway as she smiled. “He’s done well.”

“I didn’t know Aedion had this in him,” Aelin said with a snort and Lysandra waved a hand. 

“He has spent months putting it together,” her friend admitted and Aelin smirked. 

“How much did he let you choose?”

Lysandra winced. “It was fifty-fifty.”

Aelin waited. 

“Forty-sixty.”

Aelin only cocked her head as she waited a moment longer. 

“I won’t go any lower than thirty-five. And I picked the paint for the bathroom walls.”

Aelin’s poker face cracked at her friend’s admission. She knew her cousin wanted their house to be perfect but he had taken his attention to detail to the extreme. The number of interior design magazines that were littering the coffee table in the loft was well into double figures and Aelin had been dragged on multiple trips to a number of shops to offer her opinion on almost identical shades of paint and patterned wallpapers. Lysandra had been content to sit back and let her boyfriend take the reins, confident that Aedion would choose well. 

He had. The house was beautiful, and the dedication her cousin had offered was obvious. Each room had a multitude of tiny details that revealed the love Aedion had poured into the house, in the kitchen it was the large window that overlooked their garden, offering a glance at the wildlife that flocked to the numerous native plants Aedion had selected. In the living room it was the stuffed bookshelves, housing almost anything from Aedion’s old college textbooks to Lysandra’s abundance of romance novels. 

Aelin’s favourite was the study her cousin had decorated for Lysandra to house her newly developed modelling agency. Lysandra had chosen more recently to take a step away from posing in front of the camera and had opted to manage a small group of models. The office was bright and welcoming, with splashes of soft green accents that suited Lysandra. The office sat next door to a room that was carefully neutral, but Aelin knew it wouldn’t take much work for it to be converted into a nursery. 

Aelin took another glance around the living room they stood in, Aedion had truly curated a home. She could see herself and Rowan curled up on the loveseat in the corner with Aedion on the armchair by the fire and Lysandra perched in his lap. She could hear the sounds of Fenrys rummaging through their fridge as Lorcan barked orders from his space on the sofa. 

Aelin was going to miss having them all under one roof, even if it meant her and Rowan having the loft to themselves. But she knew that as quiet as the loft would feel without the others, she was excited to make the space their own. And to get some much awaited privacy. 

Lysandra watched her with knowing eyes as she surveyed the space. “You’ll all be welcome any time to come and visit.” 

Lysandra plopped down onto the plush couch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she settled into the pliant cushions. Aelin took the seat opposite, throwing her feet onto the footstool set carefully in front of the sofa. 

“Just make sure your doors are locked at night, I think Fenrys could take your open door policy a little too liberally.”

Lysandra shook her head. “I’m not sure Aedion would mind, he’ll pretend he won’t but he’ll miss having the guys around. He’ll give them all a key.”

“What about me?” Aelin gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. Lysandra rolled her eyes as she settled further into their couch, it was an agreement that didn’t need to be stated that Aelin would get her own key to the new house. “I’m glad you’re not living with Blackbeak anymore.”

Lysandra’s eyes stayed shut as she laughed. “She’s really not that bad. You’d know if you ever bothered to get to know her the entire time I lived with her.”

“Lys, she’s awful. She’d strut about as if she was the queen or something whenever I came around. Making sly comments to… I don’t know,” Aelin waved a hand, searching for the words. “Assert her dominance or something.”

Lysandra cracked her eyes open to level Aelin with an unimpressed stare. “And you wouldn’t?”

Aelin shrugged, whatever displays she and Manon had put on were in the past. Hopefully she’d never have to see the scarily beautiful woman again. “I’m your best friend, I don’t need to try and posture.”

Lysandra grinned. “And yet you do anyway.”

Aelin stuck her tongue out at her friend, knowing the comment was too true to justify a middle finger. Her phone buzzed in her lap, signifying the text Aelin had been waiting for.

I’m 5 minutes away.

Aelin fought to keep her face neutral as she tucked the phone back into the pocket of her jeans and stood from her comfortable seat on the couch. 

“You’re leaving?”

Aelin nodded, “Rowan just texted, he needs help with something at the bar.” A lie. “Meet us there later after the delivery has come?”

A serious invitation hidden within a number of half truths.

Lysandra dipped her head in a nod as Aelin swept to the front door, calling out her parting words as she did.

Once out the front door she allowed her smile to break through and it widened again as she spotted her cousin walking up the path in front of her. Aedion wore a shirt, and his golden hair was carefully styled. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he approached her.

“Good luck,” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

“I don’t need it.” Aedion flashed an easy grin before wrapping one arm easily around her. “Thanks, Ae.”

Aelin drew back soon after. “Don’t make us wait too long to see you guys.”

Aedion only smirked.

“Gross,” Aelin couldn’t help screwing her eyes shut before turning away to make her exit. She flashed her cousin a final thumbs up as she got into her car and headed to where she knew she would find her boyfriend.

— 

Rowan hadn’t changed much when he had taken over the bar, but what he had changed made it even more enjoyable. The first thing he had done was replace the ancient jukebox in the corner, he had replaced the jukebox with one that didn’t need to be turned off and on again every fifteen songs and had updated some of the music in its catalogue. 

Each of their loft-mates had been allowed to offer suggestions for the updated library and Rowan had criticised every single one, his own music taste leaned into older rock songs Aelin had never heard, but the choices had all made their way in there anyway. 

All apart from Lysandra’s only half-joking suggestion of a best-of-boy-bands compilation. That suggestion had received a hard no.

One of Lorcan’s choices, some alternative track with lots of drums, was playing as she made her way to the small office in the back corner of the bar. She nodded at the bartender who nodded back with a soft smile. He was a young man called Luca and he had been recommended by Malakai upon his exit. Aelin liked him, he was young and sweet but competent enough to make a mean drink.

She pushed through the door to the office and smiled as she took in the sight of her boyfriend. Even just the sight of him made her smile, and he smiled back as he dropped the papers he held. 

Aelin flopped into Rowan’s lap, looping her arms around his neck as he leant in to kiss her. Even the softest brush of his lips against her own loosened every muscle in her body.

“Hey,” he murmured against her lips, unable to resist pressing another kiss to them. 

“Hi.”

“Missed you.”

Rowan shared comments like that with a regularity that made her heart squeeze. Each one brought a kernel of warmth to her chest. 

“You saw me this morning.”

“And?” His gaze was unwavering, and his sincerity made Aelin bite her lip. 

“Everything all set for Aedion and Lysandra?” He asked smoothly. 

“I left just as he arrived,” Aelin confirmed.

Rowan ran a gentle hand up and down her side as he spoke. “I’ll be relieved when it’s over and he’s finally asked her. I can’t give any more thought to the best way to propose to Lysandra.”

Aelin snorted as she pressed a kiss to his temple. She loved that her friends and family were all so intertwined. “He’s nervous, give him a break.”

“Why?” Rowan asked. “She’ll obviously say yes.”

Aelin cocked an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t be nervous if you were proposing to the love of your life?”

Rowan shrugged. “Nope. I’m sure she’ll be very lovely and not at all scary. I’d have no doubt in my mind she’d say yes.”

She pinched the skin of his bicep and he hissed a laugh through his teeth. 

“I can go if you need to find someone sweet.”

Aelin made to move off his lap but his hands tightened around her. “Don’t you dare.”

He skimmed his nose around her hairline, brushing the gentlest of kisses to her ear. A soft gasp crossed her lips at the sensation. Aelin leaned into the warmth of his hands at her hips and the touch of his lips at her neck as she turned to survey his desk. 

“Working hard?” She asked playfully and Rowan buried his face in her neck and groaned. She ignored the heat that stirred in her at the sound and laughed as she petted his hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Invoicing is the worst. I have no idea how Malakai did it all on his own for so long, I don’t know how I haven’t made a catastrophic error yet.” Her boyfriend’s eyes widened. “Would I know if I had?”

Aelin laughed. Rowan worked hard and Aelin was confident he was handling the management of the bar well even if Rowan himself wasn’t. Financially there were no problems, the re-branding that had taken place after Rowan had assumed ownership had managed to attract a number of new regulars as well as large numbers of casual visitors that kept the bar easily filled with patrons. 

One night, not long after Rowan had signed the papers giving him majority ownership, Fenrys had suggested a weekly karaoke night. The idea had started out as a joke until Elide had brought her tiny karaoke machine one evening and the bar had ended up packed with people cheering others on, so much so that Rowan had invested in a proper system and every Thursday hosted a karaoke night. 

“Anything I can do to make it easier?” Aelin asked, scratching her nails against Rowan’s scalp. 

He groaned again at the sensation and this time it was harder to ignore the heat stirring in her core. He looked up to her, his fingers curling more tightly around her hips, as his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip. 

“Do you know anything about accounting?”

Aelin laughed again. 

“Absolutely not, but I know a lot about relieving stress.” She shifted where she sat in his lap, making sure to grind her backside against his groin. “And I have many techniques that I know are effective in releasing pressure.”

Rowan let out a deep, throaty sound at her words, pulling her hips down as he leant in to kiss her neck. 

The start of their relationship had been a blur of passion. About a month into their relationship Aedion had attempted an intervention when he had walked in on them in a state of undress for the third time in a week, and Aelin loved that it hadn’t faded. She wanted Rowan every single time she was so much as in the same room as him, and even when she wasn’t. 

Aelin tugged at the silver strands of Rowan’s hair as he trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat. She gasped as he scraped his teeth down across her jawline to nip lightly at her pulse point. She shifted impatiently in his lap and tugged his face up by his hair to press her lips to his.

His tongue caressed her lower lip and she eagerly opened to let him lick into her mouth. Each stroke of his tongue set her skin on fire and it wasn’t long until she was writhing in his lap.

“We don’t have long until the others are due.” Rowan slid his face back down to her neck, unable to draw his lips away from her skin. 

“We have enough time if we’re quick.” Aelin heard the desperation in her voice, and Rowan did too if the way he rocked her across his lap was any indication. 

“I don’t want to rush,” He said, his voice a low growl in his throat. “I want to take my time with you.”

“And you can.” Aelin pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Later. First let me be quick with you.”

Aelin stood off his lap and Rowan moaned his disappointment until she leaned back in to caress her hand over the bulge in his jeans. His head rolled back as his eyes fluttered shut and his hips jerked into her hand. 

Aelin loved having Rowan at her mercy like this, usually he was the one who liked to take his time and watch her fall apart under his teeth and tongue until she was shaking and gasping his name, but Aelin loved to take care of him too. 

She slid to her knees between his thighs and ran her hands up the thick muscles she felt straining against the desire to take her. She knew they didn’t have long so she wasted no time before unzipping his jeans and sliding a hand beneath. 

Rowan’s head fell backwards against the back of his chair as her hand dipped into his boxers. Aelin bit her lip at the feeling of him, already hard and heavy in her hand. She gave a few pumps of her hand, enjoying the catch in his throat as she did, before tugging him out of his trousers. 

Aelin trailed her hand along the length before wrapping her hand tighter and twisting slightly the way she knew he liked, enjoying the way his hips jerked off the chair slightly. She pressed her free hand to his hip, holding him in place as she leaned in to run her tongue up from his base to tip. At the first touch of her tongue his hips jerked forward and his hand slid into her hair.

“Easy,” She chided with a wicked smile. Aelin loved the way he reacted to her, the slightest touch would have him solid beneath her and kissing her forcefully the way she liked.

Rowan brushed his free hand along her cheek, before tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. 

“Beautiful,” He murmured, his voice low and thick with arousal. Aelin smiled up at him as she worked her hand again, and she let her gaze fall to where she held him, enjoying the contrast of her red nail polish against his skin.

He let out a curse under his breath as she leant in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along his considerable length. His hand twisted more securely into her hair as she took him fully into her mouth, using her hand to work the base. He didn’t force her head, which she appreciated, but she loved the feeling of his hand holding her to him as she moved. 

Aelin felt her eyes flutter shut, she loved doing this for Rowan, it made her feel sexy and the sounds he made were hotter than anything.

“Fuck,” He hissed. “You look so good like that.”

Aelin moaned, breathing in deeply through her nose as she bobbed her head. She loved how vocal Rowan was, how he would curse her name and anything he could think of as she worked her mouth around him. 

She pulled back to press her tongue right under the tip, the way she knew sent him wild, and she was rewarded with a sharp thrust of his hips. She looked up to him finding his deep green eyes blown with lust as she swallowed around him. She read the question in his eyes and nodded as best as she could. 

Rowan let out a groan. “Gods, I love you.”

His thumb trailed the corner of her lips as they stretched around him before sliding to join his other in her hair. Aelin moaned as he began to fuck her mouth, lifting his hips in a torturously slow rhythm that had Aelin grinding her hips against the air. 

His pace increased as his hands twisted more tightly into her hair. Aelin moaned around his cock and he hissed a breath at the sensation. She slid her free hand down into her own jeans, matching her own strokes with Rowan’s thrusts and it wasn’t long until she felt her own climax building. 

“Aelin,” Rowan cursed. “Oh, fuck.” 

His eyes screwed shut tightly as his hips stuttered, Aelin moaned her permission as she stroked herself even faster. She was close, and the pulling of her hair combined with the hard thrusts into her mouth, timed perfectly with her own fingers, sent her quickly to a climax. Rowan’s hips jerked as he groaned, his head tipping to the side as he gasped her name. 

“Gods.” His chest heaved as his jaw strained. “Fuck, Aelin I-I’m close.”

Aelin met his gaze and offered a shallow dip of her chin. Rowan clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, each muscle in his powerful body straining beneath the touch of her tongue.

He spilled into her mouth with a groan, and Aelin swallowed around him, allowing her tongue to coax him along. He gave a few final shallow thrusts as he settled back into his chair, his eyes blinking open slowly to meet her own. 

Aelin slid her hand out of her trousers as she drew her lips off him. She tucked his still half-hard cock back into his jeans and stood to press her lips to his, revelling in the blissed out expression on his handsome face. She crawled back onto his lap as his breathing evened out. 

Finally, he blinked his eyes open and brought her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her fingers. 

“You’re phenomenal, thank you,” He said, his voice still breathy. “But you did my job for me.”

Aelin smiled at the disappointed tone in his voice before she pressed her lips to his once more. “You can make it up to me later.” 

He cocked a brow in a way that she knew meant he wanted to splay her out on this desk and taste her the way she had tasted him, but at that moment her phone chose to buzz. The second signal of the day. 

“We have to go,” She said, beginning to slide off his lap. “We have a pair of fiancés to congratulate.” 

Rowan grinned, a crooked flash of his teeth. “How long, do you think, until he asks me to be his best man?”

“I think he’ll ask Lorcan.” 

“Right,” He grinned. “And Manon Blackbeak will be Lysandra’s maid of honour I assume.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“I think you’d prefer me being the maid of honour to your best man, much more than Manon. If it’s Manon your night won’t end up like today.”

He cocked a brow. 

“You know, it’s tradition for the best man and maid of honour to hook-up in the bathroom and Manon would bite your dick off before she blew you.”

The fear in Rowan’s eyes drew a cackle from her chest. 

“Don’t worry,” She patted his cheek with a hand before fully rising to her feet. “I’d protect you from the evil witch.”

Rowan smiled as she pulled him to his feet. 

“And then I’d definitely blow you in the bathroom.”

“You’re filthy.”

“You love it.”

Rowan nodded, a sincere light in his eyes. “I do.”

He slung his arm around her shoulders as they made their way out into the main part of the bar to discover their friends already gathered in a booth. Lysandra sat in the center as Elide examined the sparkling diamond now gracing her left hand, Lorcan frowned at the same ring and Aelin barely managed to conceal her snort at the sight. She was sure Lorcan would get there someday, but she’d enjoy his discomfort in the meantime. 

Aelin snuck out from under Rowan’s arm to throw her own around Aedion and Lysandra, unintelligibly cooing her congratulations and excitement. It was almost hard to believe sometimes, that her cousin and her best friend were together and now getting married. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Fenrys snarked as she released her friend and collapsed onto Rowan’s lap. Aelin flipped him off, despite the wide grin she wore. 

“We were barely late, we had things to finish off.”

Aedion winced as Lysandra and Fenrys cackled. Rowan hid his smile in her shoulder but she could feel his body shaking with laughter beneath her.

“Tell us more about these things you were finishing off Aelin.” Elide had a wicked glint in her eye.

“Please don’t.” Aedion sounded pained and even Lorcan grinned. 

The booth was filled with her friends and roommates and Aelin wasn’t complaining as Rowan slung his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. Aelin pressed both of her palms to the table as she surveyed the group. 

“I propose a toast,” she said. “To the happy couple.” 

She made a gesture to Luca who flashed her a thumbs up and immediately made to collect enough glasses for the group. 

“On the house I hope,” Lorcan quipped as Luca brought over a couple of bottles of champagne.

“When do any of you pay for drinks in here?” Rowan questioned as the group laughed. 

Aelin leaned back into Rowan and lifted her glass in a toast. The sounds of her friends bickering wasn’t enough to damper the happiness she felt for Aedion and Lysandra, and the old Phil Collins song playing on the jukebox only added to the contentment she felt sitting in Rowan’s lap surrounded by her friends. 

--

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@superspiritfestival

@spyofthenightcourt

@jlinez

@queen-of-glass

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@elriel4life

@bamchickawowow

@woollycat22

@claralady

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09

@darlinminds

@thenerdandfandoms

@danibutterr

@inthecityair

@autophobiaxx

@imaginedhaven

@endlessdaydream - I’m having an issue with this tag not sure why :(

@rowaelinismyotp​

Thank you!

[awhmilkywey]

burgers and fries | t. carrick |

pairing & genre: tobias carrick x f!mc (ava dahl) — fluffy as hell

warnings: one curse word | english is not my first language

word count: 2.4k

request | prompt | neither | challenge

tags: @usuallyamazinglyaverage ; @perriewinklenerdie ; @cyb3r-kat ; @moonsoltice ; @romewritingshop ; @tsrookie ; @hedwigsbixch

a/n: a special thank you to @usuallyamazinglyaverage @perriewinklenerdie and @cyb3r-kat for allowing me the use of their characters (anna dawson, claire herondale and bianca hemgrove, respectivel) and a bonus to perrie for being generally awesome and helping me out with this fic. You can thank her for the Romeo line!

Ava has a history of flouting protocol to assist her patients.

The machine whirred to life, shooting a steady stream of murky liquid into the small paper cup. Ava skimmed her medical chart while she waited. Her patient was a young adult who came in with severe chest pain and discoloured skin around her calves. The primary doctor wrote down that earlier scans ruled out heartburn as well as pericarditis. She reached for her coffee and took a cautious sip. The blemishes could point towards a blood clot—deep vein thrombosis, perhaps? It could quickly develop into a pulmonary embolism if left untreated.

The nurses' station was relatively quiet when she approached.

“Could you order a lung scan and a chest X-ray for my patient, please?”

Marlene took the chart with a professional nod. Her exhaustion matched her own.

Ava murmured a quiet thank you and tossed her cup in the bin. The results wouldn't be back for a couple hours. If her hunch was correct then she would most likely need to page the surgical department. For now, however, her rounds were finished and she could take a breather.

Her face twisted into a frown as she remembered her bag was still in the conference room. Her confrontation with Harper ensured she had been too uncomfortable to remain there. Ava decided to take the stairs one at a time. Saying she was dreading their next meeting was an understatement. They would need to have a serious conversation with Bloom. Ethan breaching protocol was on him alone. A conversation with Harper was in order as well; earlier she had been caught by surprise but she wouldn't let that kind of treatment stand. Barging in, wrongfully accusing her without any evidence whatsoever, yelling and refusing to believe her even when the culprit was standing right there—Ava wondered when the cool renowned surgeon became an unruly child.

The revelation that Harper still saw her as a reckless intern made her incredibly angry. Her one mistake happened over two years ago and she came forward to shoulder the blame. Ava had grown since then, both as a doctor and as a person. Her near-death experience also served to put things into perspective, to say the least. She would always have the best interest of her patients at heart but she would never again jeopardize her career so foolishly.

That thought brought her back to Ethan. Frankly she didn't recognise him any more. He came back from the Amazon a different man—one she wasn't sure she liked all that much. Their tentative relationship hadn't stood a chance. Him being her attending was difficult enough, then she was facing the possibility of being suspended, and just as she thought they could make it work after all, Naveen promoted her and Ethan was her superior once more. He maintained a painfully professional demeanour around her from there on out. Ava wasn't doing too great during that time.

And when her intern year came to an end, he disappeared. He wasn't answering her calls nor her texts and her trips to his apartment were fruitless. She found out he was out of the country through WHO's Instagram account. She stopped bothering afterwards.

Ava shook her head, red curls bouncing over her shoulders. Dwelling on the past wasn't helpful. Especially when the Ethan from her memories didn't correlate with the Ethan she was currently working with. Her most recent conversations with him left a sour taste in her mouth.

The conference room wasn't as empty as she expected.

“Heading out?” Tobias sent her a warm smile.

“I've some free time to kill.”

He nodded in understanding. “Holding up okay?”

Ava hesitated. It occurred to her that he was the only person she was truly comfortable with on the team. The only one who'd never underestimated her or made her feel lesser.Tobias was the person who either supported her suggestions or countered them with his own logical arguments and used both as teaching opportunities.

“I've been through worse,” she replied, shrugging non-committally.

He scowled. “What Harper did was uncalled for.”

Ava offered him a wry smile. “I have a history, don't you see?”

“Oh you mean the history of being civil to Bloom even though you want to punch his face in?” he asked innocently.

A laugh bubbled up in her chest and he soon followed with his own deep chuckle.

“There's this place downtown.” He sobered up but was still grinning. “One of my favourites, if you want to check it out.”

“What's in it for me?” Ava raised a playful eyebrow.

His eyes darkened, tongue briefly flickering out. “Good music, good books. We could get dinner after.”

Ava swallowed. “Sounds fantastic.”

Tobias' intense look softened. “It's a date,” he said cheekily.

She laughed again and swatted at his arm. “Lead the way, Romeo, before I change my mind.”

Bantering with him was easier than it should've been. Knowing how laid-back he could be when comfortable made her notice more about how he carried himself around the rest of the team. It gave her a small thrill to be able to witness that side of him.

Tobias drove her to a time-worn shop tucked away between a colourful diner and a boarded-up building. An old sign hung over the entrance reading The Starlight Den. The outer walls were covered in messy chalky drawings and splashes of peeling paint, broken crayons and plastic buckets sitting to one side. He laid a hand on her lower back, gently guiding her through the battered wooden door.

“I used to come here all the time as a kid,” he commented, glancing fondly around the shop.

Neutral colours predominated with the occasional vibrant hue flashing here and there. Bookshelves lined the left side, brimming with works from classics to comic books. Customers could settle down on various armchairs and sofas, reading under the light of several dimmed lamps. Ava slid her eyes from the makeshift coffee bar to the vintage posters on the opposite wall. A soft tune drifted from the gramophone in the corner. Neat stacks of vinyl records were arranged in polished boxes in the centre. A counter held several players for general use nearby.

“This is a dream come true,” Ava marvelled, running her fingertips across the book spines.

Tobias hummed, reaching to pluck a comic from the shelf. He presented it to her with a flourish. Spider-Man was holding a man clad in green on the cover.

“First introduction to Spidey. Also the first comic I ever read,” he disclosed, absently thumbing through the pages.

“I didn't know you read comics.”

Tobias cocked his head. “Haven't read them in a long while but they were a big part of my childhood.”

Ava cast a look about. “I can see why you'd like to come here.”

Two teenagers were hanging around a record player, giggling quietly to each other, while a sharply dressed man made small talk with the handsome man behind the register. The overall atmosphere was quite cosy. It felt a bit like home. When she returned her wandering gaze to Tobias, he offered her a knowing smile.

“I have an idea,” he announced with a quick clap of his hands. “We each pick a book and a record for the other. I have a player back at my apartment.”

Ava crossed her arms. “Is this a ploy to get me into your bed, Carrick?”

He raised his palms up in mock surrender. “Absolutely not. Just a ploy to get a pretty woman eating take-out on my couch.”

“From that diner next door?”

“Rosa makes the best burgers and milkshakes in Boston.” He gave a solemn nod, cracking up in the following beat.

Ava contemplated him. “It's a date.”

He lit up with a boyish smile.

She didn't know much about his likes and dislikes given that all their interactions revolved around their work. Browsing the bookcases, she opted to get him a copy of The Little Prince. She remembered her papa reading it to her when she was sick or when grief was heavier than most days. She picked up A Day at the Raceson her way to the counter.

“Don't peek,” Tobias warned after their purchases were done. “I'm going to get our food and then we can head back.”

“I want nuggets.” Ava blushed when her stomach growled.

He patted her head. “As you wish, m'lady.”

Ava watched him walk away, unable to remember the last time she was this happy. Tobias was so carefree. He didn't allow their work to burden him, always trying to finding the silver lining in each case, and refused to let it interfere with his life outside the hospital. It was a breath of fresh air, compared to her previous relationship with Ethan. Tobias was light where Ethan was dark.

The ride back to his flat was mostly quiet. He tapped on the wheel along with the song playing on the radio—she vaguely recognised it as being a new Ariana Grande single. She, on the other hand, was more occupied with staring out the window and trying to control her nerves. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, making her almost want to throw up. Tobias was undeniably attractive, charming and witty. And they were going to be alone at his place.

Ava choked on air.

He was quick to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, I got you.” At her lack of response, he slid his hand further and began to rub her back, eyes briefly leaving the road to look her over.

“I'm good,” she gasped.

His touch continued to burn her skin until the car was parked in his garage.

Tobias' flat was messier than she expected but not in the dirty sense of the word. It was a sort of organised chaos that breathed life into the walls. The coffee table peeked from beneath a mountain of medical journals, two blankets were thrown haphazardly on the couch with a pillow half-fallen on the carpet, like he had dozed off while reading. The telly was still on as well and she paused to watch Jessica Aniston and Matt LeBlanc acting on the screen.

He steered her towards the kitchen.

“I forgot to clean, sorry.” He seemed unusually sheepish.

“Mine's not much better, believe me,” she reassured him, squeezing his arm. She took the food bags from him and set them on the table. “Kitchen or living room?”

“Living room!” he called out from the pantry, coming out with a package of napkins and a container of assorted candy.

He had stored away the blankets and the pillow by the time she brought the food to the coffee table, journals stashed away in the corner bookcase. Ava noticed that he also changed into a looser tee, his biceps highlighted underneath the artificial lighting. He grabbed their purchases from the shop and turned to her with a bright smile.

“I realised we don't actually know each other that well,” he said, grabbing the book from the bag, “and I would like to remedy that.”

Ava accepted the gift, lips quirking up at the sight of the blue cover. “I've never read The Great Gatsby,” she informed.

His smile widened. “Let me know what you think when you're done, yeah?”

“I got you this one.” God she was nervous. “I, uh—I didn't know what you liked so I figured I'd give you one of my favourites. After my mum died... my dad used to read it to me as a kid.”

Tobias met her gaze and she was surprised to see him so serious. “I—Thank you, Ava. It means a lot that you would share that with me.”

She needed to look away. Was he getting closer?

Her stomach growled again.

“Eat,” he murmured, slowly leaning back. “I'll put the records on.”

He returned to the couch as the beginnings of Dancing Queenfilled the room. Ava beamed.

“How did you know?”

He popped a fry in his mouth. “I may have cheated on this one. Claire told me you were a fan.”

The mention of her friend warmed her heart. “I didn't know you and C were buddies.”

Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. “We're not, not really. I, um, went to ask her how you were after what happened. Anna and Hemgrove were gone already, so...”

His concern sent the butterflies into a frenzy. Ava focused on her burger so he wouldn't see the deep red staining her cheeks.

It was only two episodes into Friends that she noticed the missing fries in her plate. An indignant yelp was muffled by the food in her mouth. Tobias blindly reached for another one but she slapped his hand away, earning her a surprised squawk from the man. Ava made a move for his plate and was stopped when he put his arm between them, lifting the other up so she wouldn't touch his food.

“Oi! That's not fair!” she protested, not realising she was half-sitting on his lap as she tried to get her fries back.

“All's fair when you're hungry, sweetheart,” he retorted, laughing at her worthless attempts.

The loud sound of porcelain breaking was unmistakable. In an effort to get closer, she had pressed against his chest, their bodies practically glued together, and the twist of his wrist weakened his grip on the plate. Ava sunk into him in defeat and promptly peeped as her groin made contact with his.

“Shit, sorry Av—nghh...” He cut off with a strangled moan.

Ava hurried to relieve the pressure of her thigh on his crotch, feeling mortified.

“I'm sorry—” “Wait—” they spoke at the same time, both floundering.

“Just—wait.” Tobias held onto her hips, heaving out a frustrated sigh.

She would never admit to anyone that no, she very much did not want to move.

Except maybe to the girls, who would most definitely grill her tomorrow.

They remained in that exact position for a couple silent moments. Neither sure what to say nor how to act upon the revelation that they were entirely too comfortable physically for two people who were supposed to be just work acquaintances.

Up close, his eyes looked more green than brown. Ava told herself that she had bigger things to worry about.

But it was a pretty colour.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he quietly confessed. “I have to know, though. Is—is there anything between you and Ethan?”

She let out a shaky breath, touching her forehead to his. “Not since last year.”

He gave a short nod, raising a hand to cup her face. “Could there be anything between us?”

“Why don't you kiss me and find out?” she whispered against his lips.

She felt his smile before he did.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Relationship Stahl ~ Charlie Conway x Adam Banks

A/N: Hi all, I'm on my Mighty Ducks bullshit, so sorry not sorry. This is just for fun. It's postcanon - could be canon with the show. I don't specifically go against anything. But yeah. Enjoy this fic for a movie that came out over 25 years ago. *Posts fic and runs away*

Summary: Charlie and Adam are idiots. And they finally figure that out thanks to Charlie's pen pal.

Characters/Pairings: Charlie Conway/Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Guy Germaine, Fulton Reed, Gunnar Stahl

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800

Warnings: Language ( I think that's it)

^True love if I ever saw it ;)

Charlie grinned at his laptop as he fired off his enthusiastic response to the latest email from his pen pal before flipping open his phone. Instead of scrolling through his contacts, he dialed the number he knew by heart.

“I literally just dropped you off,” his best friend laughed when he picked up on the third ring.

“And I couldn’t bear to be without you,” Charlie quipped back.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

Adam’s voice was undeniably fond and it made Charlie’s stomach flutter.

“How do you feel about going to the Wilds game on Saturday?”

“How’d you swing those tickets?”

Charlie shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I know a guy. So are you in? We can grab drinks with some of the ducks afterwards.”

He could practically hear Adam shaking his head and it made Charlie’s smile widen. He knew what his answer would be.

“Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. I’ll pick you up at 5?”

“Sounds good.”

“Are the other ducks coming?

“I’m gonna see who’s around.”

“Alright. Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Charlie smiled at the question in his voice.

“Of course. I’ll call you after work.”

“Good night, Charlie.”

“Night. Banksy. Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Will do.”

Adam was wearing a Minnesota Wilds Jersey and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, when he knocked on the door of Charlie’s house.

He checked his watch. He was early.

He was always early.

Charlie probably wouldn’t be ready for another half hour, so he was surprised when the door swung open – at least until he saw Casey Conway’s smiling face.

“Adam, honey, how are you?” she cooed as she pulled him inside and into a tight hug.

“I’m great, Mrs. Conway. You’re looking lovely this evening.”

She swatted at him, but he saw her genuine smile. “Always a charmer.”

“How are you? How’s the diner?”

“I’m great. The diner is doing well. Business has really increased since we reopened after the renovations. We still have our regulars, but we’re getting more of a younger crowd too.”

“That’s awesome. And so well deserved.”

Adam could still remember when Charlie had sprinted into their college dorm room talking a mile a minute. He’d gleaned that there was a long lost uncle who’d passed and left his mother a rather large inheritance, and she was going to use that to buy out the diner that she’d been helping run for years.

Charlie had been so excited he’d nearly fell over because he forgot to breathe. Adam had spent the summer helping to paint and decorate the newly renovated diner.

“It’s been way too long since you’ve come over for dinner. Are you free next week?”

“Would Tuesday work?”

“Perfect. That’s my early night. And I’ll make your favorite pot pie.”

Adam grinned at the ceiling as he rocked back on his heels.

“You’re the best, Mrs. C.”

“Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m afraid I’ve already made Charlie late. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“See you then.”

She gave him another quick hug before scurrying out the door.

Adam sighed as he checked his watch.

“Hey, Spazaway. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” he yelled up the stairs.

“I’m coming! Relax, cake-eater!”

There were several thumps as Charlie hopped on one foot to get his shoe on and then a slam of his bedroom door, but by the time he made it downstairs he looked perfectly disheveled in a cool way instead of a sloppy way. Classic Charlie. It’d be irritating if it wasn’t so attractive.

“Hey, Banksy. See, 5:15 right on time.”

“I told you I’d pick you up at 5,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we both know that at this point you tell me you’ll pick me up 30 minutes before we actually have to leave. So technically, I’m 15 minutes early,” Charlie grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Adam huffed but couldn’t argue. Charlie was right. He’d learned a long time ago never to trust Charlie to be punctual, so he had started telling him earlier times in the hope that they’d actually arrive places before the events were over.

“It’s gonna be a great night.”

“Are any of the others coming?”

“Connie, Guy, and Fulton. Everyone else was busy.”

“That’ll be fun,” Adam admitted as he climbed into the car.

Secretly, he’d kind of been hoping that it would just be him and Charlie, but he shoved that thought away. It would be good to go out with some of his oldest friends.

“Yeah. It will.”

The five ducks were happily chatting and catching up, laden down with food as they waited for the game to start.

Guy was the first to notice the name after the national anthem.

“Do you think Stahl is the same one we faced from Iceland?”

“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “How common of a name do you think it is?”

“Remember when you had that massive crush on Gunnar, Charlie?” Connie teased before taking a sip of her soda.

“I didn’t have a crush on Gunnar.”

“You so did,” Fulton laughed, nudging. “How many hours did you spend watching tapes of his signature shot?”

“That was research,” Charlie insisted, though his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Yeah, you definitely needed to spend all that time on just Gunnar Stahl and not the rest of Iceland,” Guy faux agreed with an exaggerated wink.

Adam remained quiet. He remembered Charlie’s “not a crush” all too well. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d been jealous at the time.

At first it had been, look at this shot. Or look at this play.

And then after the games it was, he’s so nice and cool. He called me ‘Captain Duck’.

Charlie hadn’t shut up about him until they were on the plane home and he promptly knocked out on Adam’s shoulder. Number ninety-nine didn’t have it in him to be jealous when he got to have a sleeping Charlie Conway on top of him.

Tuning back into the conversation after his quick jaunt down memory lane, Adam realized they were still ribbing Charlie.

“Okay, fine. I might have had a little crush on him. I was young. I was still figuring myself out,” Charlie admitted.

“Figures your first crush would be on a hockey player,” Fulton pointed out.

“Who said he was my first crush?”

Adam swore Charlie’s gaze darted to him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“Well you literally never talked about anybody else like that before him,” Guy said.

“Except Banks,” Fulton added.

The three of them looked at Adam and he knew he was bright red. They all knew he’d had a crush on Charlie when they were kids. And that he still sort of had a crush on him. He could kick Fulton right now, and he would have if Charlie wasn’t sitting in between them.

“I still talk about Banksy all the time.”

“I’m right here,” Adam finally managed to grumble.

Charlie grinned and nudged him with his shoulder, before throwing an arm around him.

“Are we really gonna sit here and argue over who I did or did not have a crush on twenty something years ago?”

“Yes.” The other three nodded emphatically.

Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Alright fine. Yes, I had a crush on him. But laugh all you want. You have that crush to thank for these seats,” Charlie reminded them smugly.

“What do you mean?” Adam choked out as the others gasped.

Charlie looked at the four flabbergasted ducks in confusion.

“Gunnar got me the tickets. I thought you guys knew.”

“We didn’t know that,” Guy nearly shouted.

“You kept in touch with him all these years?” Connie asked softly.

Their captain shrugged.

“We were pen pals. And now we email every few weeks.”

Adam’s heart clenched in something that felt a lot like jealousy – a lot like when he was 14. He turned his attention to the game, Stahl was on the ice. Adam couldn’t help but track his movements. It had been years since he moved like that. Another squeeze.

It was going to be a long night.

Charlie noticed the instant Adam went rigid, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, he was the one being teased for a 20 year old crush that only lasted for a minute.

He tried to nudge his best friend and get a response, but Adam’s eyes were glued to the game. That wouldn’t have worried Charlie, but the tight set of his jaw was nothing like his usual relaxed joy at the games. That was one of the reason Charlie had made it a point to go to as many hockey games with Adam as he could. He loved to observe him while he watched the game. But right now, his expression was stony.

When Gunnar managed a hat trick early in the third, Adam abruptly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom.

“What’s up with Banks?” Fulton voiced Charlie’s question aloud.

Charlie shrugged. “No clue.”

Connie rolled her eyes.

“Boys. He’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“God, Charlie, are you that oblivious?”

His brow furrowed and he stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

She huffed and shook her head.

“Nope. If you can’t figure it out after 25 years, you’re on your own.”

Adam was less grumpy, but still pretty sedate when he returned with only a few minutes left to go.

“You alright?” Charlie asked in a low voice as he settled back into his seat.

“Yeah. All good. Long line for the bathroom.”

Charlie didn’t believe him, but shrugged it off as the Wilds managed a late game comeback and beat the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and they were all on their feet cheering.

The five of them waited outside the side exit where the players would come out for Gunnar. The former Iceland captain signed a few autographs before he caught sight of Charlie and waved, flashing him a big smile.

“Good to see you, Captain Duck!” he shouted as he pulled Charlie into a tight hug.

“Good to see you too, Gunnar. Nice playing tonight.”

“Thank you.” Gunnar turned his attention to the rest of the Ducks. “It’s good to see you all too.”

There were various murmurs of agreement, before an awkward silence fell.

“Drinks?” Charlie finally suggested.

“Definitely.”

Drinks helped. Everyone loosened up by the second round. Even Adam, though he was not that talkative. He could see why Charlie would have kept in touch with the Icelander. He really was quite charming.

That did not help.

When Charlie stepped away from the table to get another pitcher, Gunnar slid into his vacated seat. Adam panicked for a moment. Guy and Connie were deep in conversation and Fulton had gone to the bathroom, it was just the two of them.

“You know, Captain Duck still never shuts up about you.”

“Still?” Adam asked, fixated on the word.

“At the Goodwill Games, when we spoke for the first time at the closing ceremony, Charlie wouldn’t stop raving about you. How he’d been worried about you being hurt. He even glared at Sanderson. And in his letters, he always talked about you. In every single one. I think I knew more about how you were doing than I did about him.”

“Sorry?”

Adam had no idea how to respond. Gunnar chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s sweet. I’m glad the two of you have made it this far. You’re a good pair.”

Adam’s jaw dropped and he floundered for an answer.

“Thanks?”

“Thanks what?”

Of course Guy chose that moment to resurface from his conversation.

“For saying I played well back in ’94,” Adam lied unconvincingly.

Charlie’s return halted the conversation, and Adam couldn’t help but think about what Gunnar had said. Why would Charlie be talking about him? Did Gunnar think they were together? Why did Gunnar think they were together?

His head was spinning. And it definitely wasn’t the alcohol. Per usual, it was all Charlie Conway’s fault.

Charlie was playing with the edge of his jersey when Adam pulled up to his house.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered.

“Yeah, sure,” Adam agreed.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

Charlie had been expecting him to bail. That was what Adam did when things got tense between them, so his easy agreement caught him off guard.

He pulled two beers from the fridge and took a moment to steel himself before rejoining Adam in the living room.

“It was a great game.”

“Yeah. Ducks were smart when they got Gunnar.”

“Definitely.”

“So, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were still talking to him?”

The former captain tried to gauge Adam’s mood, but he was surprisingly nonchalant.

“I didn’t really think about it. When we were writing actual letters, I’d get one maybe three times a year. So it just never came up. And then we started emailing and it was just something I did. It never seemed like a big deal.”

“So it’s not because you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years?” Adam asked shyly.

The laughter that bubbled out of Charlie was loud and somewhat alarming.

“Of course not, Banksy. I mean, yes, I had a crush on him. For what seems like five seconds at this point in our lives. He’s just someone I liked to keep in touch with. Another person to talk hockey with. Honestly, I thought we’d last like two letters and then never talk again.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“No. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since we left the games. This isn’t some big torrid affair I’ve been hiding. It’s a pen pal. Who got us tickets to a Wilds game.”

“That was pretty cool.”

“Are we good?”

Adam nodded. “We’re good. Sorry, it was just unexpected.”

“That’s fair. I really thought I had told you guys at some point over the years. Sorry I sprang it on you… unintentionally.”

“No worries.”

It was comfortable for a bit. Charlie put on ESPN and they caught the highlights from the other games that had been played. Somehow he ended up leaning heavily into Adam’s side.

“Was he your first?” He asked as the commentators went over the same play for the third time.

“Was who my first what?” Charlie asked, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at Adam without pulling away.

“Was Gunnar your first crush?”

It came out in a sigh.

“No. He wasn’t.”

“Who was it?”

“Guess.”

“Charlie.”

“I’m serious. Guess. I’ll even give you 5 questions to try and figure it out.”

Charlie wasn’t going to admit it without a fight, and Adam knew it. Curiosity got the better of him.

“Fine. Was your first crush a hockey player?”

“Yes.”

“Someone on our team?”

Charlie nodded, sitting up so he could watch him more closely.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Peewees or Goodwill Games?”

“Met him in Peewees. Realized I had a crush on him during the Goodwill Games.”

“Did he go to Eden Hall?”

“Yes. I even roomed with him at one point. That’s five. Time to guess.”

He was certain he’d know now.

“Fulton?” Adam asked innocently.

Charlie hung his head.

“You cannot possibly be this obtuse, Banksy.”

“What? You met him in Peewees, he was with us at the games and at Eden hall and you roomed with him sophomore year.”

“Christ,” he huffed. “It’s you, Banksy. Not Fulton. God, definitely not Fulton. He’s like my brother. It’s you.”

“Me? You had a crush on me?”

“I mean, can you call it a crush if it lasts 25 years?”

Adam’s jaw hit the floor.

“You still have a crush on me?” His voice was small, so much like that 10 year old who’d been forced to leave the Hawks. But there was hope.

Charlie, momentarily panicked before resigning himself to his fate. It had to come out.

“No, Adam. I don’t have a crush on you now.”

His best friend deflated slightly.

“I’m in love with you now. I have been for as long as I can remember. Even if I didn’t realize it. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way –“

“I do. Feel the same way. God, Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Seriously?”

Adam nodded once, resolutely before Charlie’s lips were on his.

The kiss was quick and hungry and it left them both wanting more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Charlie demanded in a whisper as he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.

“Why didn’t you?” Adam sniped back.

“Touche. God so much lost time.”

“We didn’t lose anything, Charlie. We were together. That’s never a loss.”

“I love you, Banksy.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

A/N: Yeah so I love them. I hope you enjoyed this. I stand by my theory that Charlie had a brief infatuation with Gunnar Stahl. Thanks for reading!

[wreckofawriter]

Strawberries

Restaurant AU!

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Lewd language, swearing, a small mention of sexual harassment. tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: You hate being a waitress for rich assholes, but maybe the new line cook will make it a little better

A/n: this is for week three of my Cliche Month. Sorry for being inactive. I suck at time management and have no motivation.

    You never aspired to be a waitress. You didn’t sit down in primary school on a ridiculously colorful rug and tell your underpaid depressed teacher that you wanted to wait on prestigious assholes and rich men who thought a 20 dollar tip bought them an ass grab. You never wanted to wait on entitled white women and spoiled brats. But shit happens.

   

“Yes ma’am I understand but that was last week’s special, we don’t serve it anymore.”

    The woman rolled her eyes, “I don’t think you do understand. I said I want the sea bass, just have them make the sea bass.”

    You bit back cusses, “I am very sorry ma’am but we don’t have the ingredients in the kitchen to make a sea bass. I can recommend our halibut it’s severed with a delicious mango chutney and-”

    “Shut up about the mango crap. She said she wants a seabass, give her a seabass.” The man who sat on the opposite side of the table spoke.

    Your smile almost faltered, “Sir, we don’t have sea bass.” 

    “Then get some.” The man huffed, “There are plenty of stores around.”

    You had already taken the fork beside him and jabbed him in the eye in your mind four times, “I am terribly sorry sir, we cannot do that.”

    The look on his face could only be described as disgust, “I would like to speak to your supervisor.”

    You took in a deep breath, “Sir, he will not say any different.”

    “Now girl.” He snapped, his wife’s smirk making you want to smash her champagne glass over her head.

    “I will be right back.” You forced a smile, notebook flipping shut as you turned, the click of your heels disappearing into the chatter of diners. You almost rubbed your tired eyes only to remember the makeup which coated them and dropped your hands back to your side. You walked towards the pass of the kitchen, the smell of fish and meats becoming stronger as waiters weaved around you. 

    “Denzel.” You called, the man in question turning towards you.

    He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

    “Can you pretend to be my supervisor?” You asked, “Some idiots still want to order the sea bass.” 

    “I’m assuming you told them that was last week's special.” He spoke as you began to lead him back to the couple.

    “Multiple times.” you sighed.

    He nodded smiles finding both of your faces as you stood in front of the table.

    “How can I help you both tonight?” He spoke, his voice dramatically shifting tones. 

    The woman went on to explain your complete incompetence just to hear your friend restate everything you had. She eventually ordered the halibut.

    Denzel left thanking them for their cooperation as you went on to take the man's order and pretending not to hear his wife calling you a bitch as you walked away. 

    You wanted to be a journalist, a warrior of justice. You wanted to expose the one percent, shattering their ivory towers with a mallet of words. 

Instead, you served them halibut and ribeyes with a smile as fake as their trophy wives tits. 

James had fallen in love with many things in his life but cooking had been the most prevalent. Most hobbies were tossed out windows, they became phases, leaving nothing but footprints in his life. But cooking had been different. Since he was five years old and would hop onto a stepping stool to peer into the cast-iron pan his mother would be sauteing in he had been hooked. By age 10 he was making things like meatballs and stroganoff. At fourteen he began to engage in more complicated dishes and by the time he hit culinary school he was easily the best in class. 

Now as he washed his hundredth dish of the night he wondered if all of that love had been for absolutely nothing. When applying for a line cook position at one of the most prestigious restaurants in London he definitely didn’t expect to be stuck as a dishwasher. 

James’ hands felt raw from scrubbing, his apron soaked with warm water and unscented soap. His feet were aching in his shoes, his jealousy for those putting together the night’s last desserts burning hot.

He ignored his anger and pushed on, washing plate after plate just to place them into an industrial-sized dishwasher which was supposed to thoroughly clean the dishes which he already spent hours scrubbing. Dessert plates and wine glasses seemed to replace every dinner plate he had washed, his work seeming endless as his coworkers said goodnight and walked out the back door. 

It took James another hour to finish. He felt like he could pass out on the kitchen floor. His glasses were a greasy steamed mess as he pushed them back up his nose for the nth time that evening. He sighed out in a mix of exhaustion and relief untying his apron and preparing to leave.

“So you’re the newbie?” 

James jumped letting out a small yelp as his heart leapt in his chest. 

You let out a snort hand coming to cover your mouth, a poor attempt of hiding your giggles.

“You scared the shit out of me.” James huffed his glare only holding for a moment as you came into focus. Your hair was up in a reckless bun, your waitress uniform slightly crumpled, heels held in your left hand. Yet your cheeks seemed to be painted, the smirk your visage held tantalizing. 

“I saw.” You snickered padding past him and dropping your shoes onto a counter with a small clink. You headed for the refrigerator, opening it and scorning over its contents. You finally settled on a container of cut strawberries, which were to be used as a garnish the next day, “You won’t tell will you?” You muttered peeling open the top and snatching a fork from the dishwasher.

James nodded, what for he wasn’t quite sure. 

You jumped onto the counter spinning to face him, “Sooo, what’s your name?”

“Uhh, James, James Potter.” He said leaning back onto the sink.

“It’s very nice to meet you, James.” You grinned, “I’m y/n y/l/n.” 

An awkward silence followed as you plopped a berry into your mouth, its flavor bursting as you side-eyed the man. 

“You’re a line cook right?” You asked, legs swinging in front of you. 

James pouted a bit, his cheeks puffing for a brief moment, “Well I’m supposed to be but so far all I’ve done is wash dishes and take out the trash.”

You hummed in understanding, swallowing fruit before speaking again, “They do that to every newbie. They want to make sure you can do the dirty work before they let you burn on the line.”

James started at you, “Really?” 

You shrugged, “That’s how it’s always worked.”

“That’s a relief I thought I was going to be stuck doing this shit.”  James relished in his found happiness feeling a bit more energized, “Hey what are you doing back here anyway, didn’t most of the waitresses leave like an hour ago?” 

“I just had to see if the new cook was as attractive as all the girls said he was.” You grinned.

James felt his cheeks flame, eyes going wide, “Are you serious?” 

“No,” You snickered, “I got hungry and didn’t feel like cooking.”

The heat of his cheeks only worsened, “That’s rude.”

You cooed, “Ooh poor baby I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings, are you going to be okay?” 

“I don’t know.” James huffed, “I don’t think I can take this harassment.” 

The laughter that echoed around him caused a smile to break onto his face. 

You suddenly realized he was as attractive as the other waitresses were saying. Even if his hair was a mess and his glasses were smudged. 

You hadn’t been lying. By his third week, James was helping with both garnish and desserts. His thirst for cooking finally being fulfilled even by the small tasks he had been given. He was still forced to do dishes at the end of service but usually, someone would help him or even trade-off with him so he could take part in prep. 

Most nights when he was left alone in the kitchen you would appear, always claiming to be hungry and that cooking was for “the weak.” so you would raid the fridge instead. You stated many times that veggies and leftover slices of cake were a fine dinner much to James’ distaste. 

“That's it.” The newbie announced, hands in the air in mock surrender as you opened a container of cauliflower. “This has to stop.”

Your heart sped in your chest, was he going to turn you in? 

“You can’t keep eating shit, I’m going to cook something for you.” James huffed, moving you aside and beginning to pull stuff from the refrigerator. 

You lifted your brows, “Are you sure?” 

James nodded, “You need to taste actual food.”

You rolled your eyes, “Couldn’t you get in, like, a lot of trouble.”

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” He smirked pulling out salmon and bok choy. 

“Obviously not.” You huffed taking your usual seat in the counter as James began to work, “What are you making anyway?”

“Asian inspired salmon.” He mumbled, lighting the stove and grabbing a frying pan. 

You sat in comfortable silence, watching as he cut the vegetable in half placing it into a pan and the salmon into another. James’ hands moved quickly, not hesitating with the large knives he handled and weaving through the meal as he grabbed seasonings and sauces.

By the time he was pulling the fish from the heat, the kitchen had filled with the scent of soy sauce and warmth.    

Grabbing a plate James placed on the salmon followed by the bok choy and the lemon sesame sauce. He wiped the rim with a damp rag and presented it before you with enough dramatics to earn a giggle.

“You’re ridiculous.” You spoke through a smile taking the fork from his offering hand and digging in. 

You placed the tender meat into your mouth and was greeted by an explosion of flavors that danced on your tongue like pixie dust. You hummed, a facade of deliberation on your face, “It's overcooked.” You started plainly watching as James’ face dropped. “I’m just kidding it's delicious.” You laughed as James rolled his eyes. 

“You are such a dick,” he mumbled, beginning to clean the slight mess he had made. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. James gave you a strange look, “Get a fork dumbass, you can’t make rich people food like this and then not eat it.” 

The smile that crept onto his face caused wings to erupt in your stomach. 

You had always hated teenagers. They were spoiled and greedy and gross. So when an older woman walked in with four 17-year-old boys you had fled the scene. Unfortunately, the waitress head placed you at the table anyway. The second you reached the table all four adolescence had fallen silent and you were positive it wasn’t them being polite. One of them started at your boobs the entire they ordered and you could feel their eyes on your ass as you walked away. 

You were used to the gross stares, every waitress was. It didn’t matter how expensive the food was there always seemed to be creeps asking for it. What you had not been prepared for was the boy closest to you to reach out and grab you. 

You didn’t hesitate, hand snatching his wrist before he had a chance to fully pull away. The woman the boys were with gasped. You squeezed his arm tight hoping he could feel your nails biting his skin. 

“Touch me again and I will cut your hand off. Am I clear?” You hissed, a whimper left the teen’s mouth and you released him. You placed his plate in front of him with a clatter and didn’t waste time walking away. 

Your anger didn’t diminish the rest of the night and by the time your shift was over you considered going straight home, a shower and an extra hour of sleep would serve you well.

You glanced into the kitchen, there were three chefs left, James stood in front of the sink smiling at nothing as he always seemed to do. A sigh left your lips, who needs sleep anyway?

“I’ll close up.” You called to the head waitress who shot you a skeptical look.

“You used to hate closing.” She mused, “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

You shrugged, “Nothing in particular.”

She smirked, “So it has absolutely nothing to do with the new dishwasher?”

Pink bloomed on your cheeks, “He’s a line cook and no it doesn’t.”

“Uh-huh, sure it doesn’t.” She mocked, “If you’re gonna fuck just don’t do it in the kitchen.” 

Your face twisted in disgust and you almost dropped the napkins you held, “That is so gross.” 

She laughed, dropping the keys on the bar, “If I find any bodily fluids in my office you’re fired.” 

“You are disgusting.” You hissed, face hot and she only laughed harder.

You finished cleaning off the remainder of the tables, peeking into the kitchen occasionally as the last two cooks left for the night. 

The weight of your exertion hit hard as you entered the kitchen, legs seeming to give out as you bent down to remove your heels. 

James noticed your discomfort and let out a chuckle, “Let me.” 

You stood up a bit too quickly, head spinning for a second as you were lifted onto the counter, James crouching to slip off your shoes. You sighed leaning back onto your palms. 

“Tough day?” he asked, turning back to open the fridge. 

You nodded, “Kids are assholes.” 

James laughed, “And why's that?”

You yawned eyes watering from its force as you answered, “Well one little highschool shit grabbed my ass.”

James froze, he hand hovering midair as he processed what you had just told him, “What?”

“Oh yeah, entitled rich kids always think they can touch whatever they want. It's why I hate serving teenagers.” You complained not noticing the distress you had put James under.

“This happens regularly?” He was appalled.

    “Well not really regularly more like once a month, it’s not always teenagers though,” You explained, “Oo what’s that?” 

    James set the container of chocolate-covered strawberries in front of you. His mouth still agape “Once a month isn’t regular?”

    You huffed, “Can we stop talking about it? It happens to every waitress.”

    “Yeah, sorry,” James mumbled watching as you bit into a strawberry, lipstick smearing.

    “You going to have one of these?” You asked, holding one between your thumb and pointer finger. 

    “Sure.” James went to grab the strawberry only for you to pull it away with a grin.

    “No, no, I get to feed it to you.” Your smile was sweetly arranged. 

    Heat tingled on his neck like tv static, “Don’t be ridiculous y/n.” 

    “Oh come on James, don’t be a pussy.” You taunted waving the fruit in front of him as color painted his cheeks. 

    He glared at you in mock annoyance as his heartbeat began to run, “Fine.”

    You giggled as he took the berry into his mouth, lips barely grazing your fingertips as he pulled away. 

    James had never been more embarrassed in his life, he chewed the sweet fruit refusing to meet your eyes as you continued to laugh.

    “You’re cute ya’ know.” You giggled.

    James scoffed, a mix of bittersweet coming from your words, “Whatever.” He walked away from you hiding his flushed face. 

    You whined, “I’m not joking. You are really cute.”

    “Seriously y/n stop,” James spoke, his voice laced with disappointment and melancholy. 

    You rolled your eyes, “You’re such an idiot James.” 

    He leaned against the refrigerator as you plopped another berry into your mouth. His arms crossed as a pout you had found yourself obsessed with took his lips. 

    “A few girls actually did want your number.” You hummed watching as he seemed to perk up, reminding you of a puppy given a toy. “I was supposed to get it for them, but I didn’t really want to.”

    James scrunched his brows, “Why not?”

    “Cause I wanted your number dumbass.” You scoffed, “I wasn’t about to give it to someone else.” `

    This only confused him more, “Why would you want my number?”

    A groan lifted from your lips, “Your skull is so thick James. I want your number because you’re cute and funny and all that shit.” your voice fell to a mumble and your eyes became glued to your swinging feet.

    “Why didn’t you ask for my number?” James challenged and you felt your already warm face grow hot. 

    “I was nervous.” You muttered bitterly not liking the vulnerable position you had been put into.

    James was suddenly stepping towards you “What was that?” he grinned hand to his ear mockingly.

    “You’re enjoying this too much.” You grumbled, “Look I like you, I think you’re cute and sweet and funny now are you going to continue being a dick or give me a proper response?” 

    James continued to beam, stepping closer to you as you glared up at him with pink cheeks. 

    “Well, you’re really cute too.” James said, “And I think you were being the dick for making me try to impress you for three weeks only to say you liked me the entire time.”

    You were tempted to bury your head in your hands but considering that would mean you breaking his gaze you stopped yourself, “Oh fuck off.” you muttered heart thudding so loud you wondered if James could hear it.

    “Is that really what you want?” He questioned already knowing the answer. He leaned over you cupping your cheek.

    “Just kiss me already asshole.” You murmured.

    James tilted your head up to meet his lips. They were soft and plush, a thousand times better than you imagined them to be nights before. Your thighs parted as his own pressed against the counter between them in desperation to be closer to you. Closed kisses turned to open-mouthed ones, leaving the pleasant taste of strawberries on your tongue. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings @coldlilheart

Masterlist

[justfrozenthings]

I Have Loved You Since Forever

Pairing: Anna/Kristoff

Rating: T (just to be safe)

Word: 2,641

Notes: This was just an idea that popped into my head so I figured I would write it because why not. Sorry for any grammar mistakes I have made because I know for a fact that there are some.

Summary: Church bells tolled for a wedding Kristoff has been dreading ever since he received the invitation in the mail.

He sat on a bench in the park absentmindedly running his fingers through Sven’s soft silky fur; the exact bench where he and a particular redhead would meet up to vent about all their troubles and get them off their chests. He remembered the many nights she had called, asking him to meet her at their place so that he could hold her as she cried. Sure, it usually meant getting out of bed at some ungodly hour, but damn he would do it for all eternity if it meant he could bring a smile to her beautiful freckled face. This time, however, instead of his ears being met with the heavenly sounds of her laugh; they were met with the sound of bells from the church nearby, sounding like death tolls with every breath that racked his body. 

There was a wedding being held today; one that he had been dreading ever since he received the white envelope decorated with intricate golden scrolls. 

 Today was the wedding of Anna Arendelle, his best friend and love of his life. Yeah, you heard it right, he, Kristoff Bjorgman, was deeply and utterly in love with his childhood best friend. The friend he had told that he was unable to make it to her wedding during one of their daily park bench meetings. He could still hear the pain of her voice in his head.

 “And why not?” Anna said sternly, trying to hold back the swell of tears in her eyes. He hated that he was the cause of them. “Don’t you want me to be happy?” 

“Anna you know I do but-”

“Then come. Please Kristoff,” she croaked. “It wouldn’t be the same without you there.”

 He stared down at his feet before he gave a deep sigh and stared back into her beautiful blue orbs again. She was wearing the pink beanie that he had gotten her one year for Christmas, and the matching scarf that came with it. Her button nose tinged with a light hue of red from the chilly autumn breeze that spread to her cheeks, her freckles looking like little stars twinkling in the night sky. “I’m sorry Anna, but I can’t.” And before she could say anything else he got up from his spot on the bench and left.

 He couldn’t bear to hear her sobs as he walked away and he wanted so much to turn back around and tell her he was sorry and that he loved her and that he would do anything to never make her cry like that again. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want her to see the tears that had formed in his own eyes. 

 Kristoff hadn’t noticed, but those same tears that had formed in his eyes the night before came back to visit him. He blindly wiped them away with the sleeve of his old high school hoodie; the purple letters were faded out and hard to read. He had told her he couldn’t make it to save his own heart, but he ended up breaking hers in the process. 

Unable to last another minute on the bench any longer, he got up and whistled for Sven; who, at some point during his flashback, had trotted over to chase the frogs in the creek. He shoved his hands in his front pockets and walked with a slight hunch in his back from all the grief he was holding in as leaves of reds, oranges, and yellows danced and swirled around him. He needed to find solace, and there was only one other place he could do that.

 Bulda’s was the local cafe owned and run by Kristoff’s adoptive mother Bulda and was another place he and Anna often found themselves visiting. At the beginning of their friendship, Kristoff was too afraid to tell Anna that he had been adopted because he was worried that she would judge him. Anna was his only friend at the time, besides Sven, still is in fact, and he didn’t want to lose that friendship with her. She eventually found out through some people at school, though this wasn’t until they were seniors in high school, and when she had asked him about it he figured that there was no reason hiding it. As he readied himself to lose the only human friend he had ever had, Anna placed her hands on his and told him that there was nothing wrong with that. It was at that moment when he realized that he had fallen hard for the feisty redhead sitting next to him.

 Kristoff had smiled back at the memory; if only he had told her his feelings then maybe he wouldn’t be here wallowing in his own self-pity. 

Maybe coming here was a bad idea, he told himself mentally. But before he could leave, Bulda attacked him with a big bear hug. 

 “Hi Krissy!,” Bulda exclaimed as she planted dozens of little kisses on his face. 

He returned the hug causing him to smile only a little bit. It seemed no matter how dire or sorrowful the situation was, his mother always put a smile on his face. “Hey Ma’.” 

 Beulda unwound herself from her son’s embrace, “The usual I’m guessing?” 

“You got it.” He tried putting on the happiest tone he could muster, but it was no use. He knew she could see right through.

“Okay,” Bulda said, eyeing him cautiously. “I’ll be back in a jiff.” 

Not even five minutes later, Bulda had returned with a large slice of her famous Chocolate Eruption cake and a cup of hot cocoa with whip cream, chocolate drizzle, and chocolate shavings. It didn’t take long for Kristoff to notice that Bulda had only brought one fork. Usually, there were two, one for him and one for Anna. He had never been too much of a chocolate fanatic. He liked it just fine, but he’d choose something like vanilla over it any day. At least that had been true, he had realized before he met Anna. No matter what, he was always amazed by the amount of chocolate that such a small person could consume. It was impressive really, he wasn’t going to lie.

 “So,” Bulda sighed as he plopped down in the booth next to him. “What brings ya’ here?” 

“Well, I was in the park and decided to grab a bite to eat.” 

 “No,” Bulda shook her head. “What I mean is what are you here instead of at that church trying to stop that wedding?”

 Kristoff let out a frustrated sigh and buried his face in the palms of his hands before bringing one of them up to run through his golden locks. “Ma’ I can’t just go crash someone’s wedding just because I have feelings for them.” 

“Sure ya’ can. When it’s someone who loves ya’ back that is.” Noticing that her son was still not picking up on what she was saying Bulda continued. “Listen baby, I may be old and crazy but I know true love when I see it. And let me tell ya’ whatever Anna and that Hans guy have ain’t it.” 

Annoyed, Kristoff shoved a forkful of cake into his mouth. “What exactly is it that you're trying to say Ma’?” 

“I’m saying that Anna loves you and that you have a chance to win her over before it’s too late.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, “I know you love her Kristoff. And Anna loves you. Deny it as much as you like, but it’s the honest truth.” 

“What makes you so sure?” he asked, still not buying what his mother was saying. 

“Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and I’ve seen the way she looks at him. It’s not the same. She loves you Kristoff. She just needs help seeing it.” He stared at the cake, deep in thought as he ran his mother’s words through his head over and over. “And plus I’m never wrong,” Bulda winked before giving him a peck on the cheek and leaving to go wait on another table. 

He sat there contemplating what his mother told him as he watched cars pass by through the window. He knew it was crazy, but he had to try. If things went wrong? Well, then at least he gave it his best. At least she would know that he loved her. 

Quickly glancing at his watch, he sprinted out of the diner ignoring the honking horns and shouts of angry drivers as he made his way to the church. There wasn’t much time left.

Running up the steps of the church two at a time he burst through the two grand wooden doors. He couldn’t hear any music, which was a good thing he thought until he heard the priest prepare the couple for their “I do’s.” 

“I object!” Kristoff practically burst through the doors of the nave sprinting past the pews and up to where the young couple stood. 

“Kristoff? What are you doing here?” Anna’s brows were furrowed and a look of bewilderment spread across her freckle-painted face. 

Kristoff’s chest heaved up and down, his voice labored with heavy breaths that shook his entire body. “I’m sorry Anna. But I can’t let you marry him.” His honey-brown eyes bore into her glittery blue ones, a small twinkling of hope reflecting in them. “Not before I told you.”

“Told me what? Kristoff, what's gotten into you?” 

“Anna, there's something I need to tell you. I was too much of a coward to do it before and because of that, I missed my chance. So before you marry Hans I just need to let you know that I love you Anna Arendelle.” Gasps spread throughout the crowd and everyone sat there, mouth agape, including Anna. “If the feelings aren’t mutual then that’s fine. We’ll still be friends and nothing will change. I just had to finally get it off my chest.” 

Anna blinked, her shocked expression never left her face. “Kristoff I-”

However, before she could say anything Hans had stepped in between them, he looked at Kristoff like he was some kind of fool. “Gee thanks for stopping by buddy, but unfortunately for you, it was a waste of a trip. Now if you’d please kindly leave so I can marry my fiancée that would be greatly appreciated.” Hans gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“No.” 

Hans, who was currently heading back to his place next to Anna, turned on his heel. “What did you say?” Hans’s eyes shooting daggers into his. 

“I said no. I’m not leaving unless Anna says so.” 

This only seemed to make Hans angrier causing him to fist his hands. However, before he could lay a punch on Kristoff a streak of white ran past him. He was confused at what was going on at first, that was until he turned back to look at Kristoff, the scene before him sending him into total shock. 

Anna had run over to Kristoff and had meddled her lips with his. “I love you too Kristoff. Always have.” 

Hans shook with anger. In a flash, he grabbed a gun from the inside pocket of his tux and aimed it at Kristoff. Then, as if by some kind of miracle Sven came running in biting Hans on his rear end before he could pull the trigger. He cried out in pain, dropping the gun as he did so. 

Everyone was evacuated from the building as soon as the fiasco was over. Fortunately, one of Anna’s friends she had invited worked for the local police station who had called in asking them to send a deputy over with a car so they could bring Hans in for questioning. 

Wedding guests stood outside of the church conversing with one another as if nothing had ever happened, waiting to hear from Anna to see what was going to happen now that the wedding was obviously not going to continue.

“So,” Anna said from where her head sat on Kristoff’s shoulder. “Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?” She looked up to gaze at him, his eyes so welcoming and warm.

 He placed a kiss upon the crown of her head. “Every word.” 

“For how long?” 

 She smiled up at him and he had fallen in love with her all over again.“Since forever.” 

“Me too.” They held each other tighter, relishing in their moment of bliss. “I just can’t believe I was about to marry a complete psycho. I’m just lucky my true prince charming came and saved the day.” Kristoff only responded by stroking her hair, hoping that this would bring her some ease. “Everyone’s still here. What should I tell them? I’d hate to send them back home, I feel like I should give them something.” 

Kristoff tried to think of ideas. “Hmm…we could all go to mom’s cafe.” He nuzzled into the soft skin of her neck and a tiny giggle escaped her dainty pink lips.

“I’d love that.”

  ———

  2 Years Later

Church bells rang throughout the town, but this time they made Kristoff’s stomach swell with happiness instead of sorrow. 

As he stared at himself in the oak framed cheval mirror straightening his bow tie, he smiled at himself. He’d never been a tuxedo kind of guy, quite frankly he’d never been all that into dressing up in general. For today though, he would put up with it. 

While he was excited, he wouldn’t ignore the fact that a tinge of fear had somehow peeked its way through. There was no denying the butterflies in his stomach.

 A knock came from the door and Elsa, Anna’s older sister, peeked her head through once she got the “okay” that it was safe to enter. She asked him if he was ready before mussing up his hair a bit from its slicked-back style and adding any last-minute touches to his tux. “She always did say she preferred your hair when it was wild and free.” With that, she gave him a hug and left to go make sure everything was running smoothly. 

Glancing at himself in the mirror one more time and letting a nervous breath, he left to go take his place at the altar. Kristoff walked down the aisle, which had been decorated with sunflowers, lace, and cream-colored ribbons, each step feeling heavier with anxiousness and exhilaration. The sun hitting the stained glass windows cast colorful hues on the cherry wood pews filled with family and friends. And as the music began Kristoff felt his heart flutter.

There was a parade of bridesmaids and flower girls. Even Sven got to join in having the very important job of being the ring bearer, carrying both rings tied to a white ribbon around his collar.

Suddenly people stood from their seats and the long exciting wait was finally over. Anna turned the corner, arm in arm with Elsa, her bluebell eyes swelling with tears of happiness. Her wedding gown was simple, nothing too extravagant. Its sleeves were made of lace with intricate flower patterns showing off her creamy freckled arms. The dress reached the end of her knees and buttermilk yellow satin ribbon had been tied around her waist. Sunflowers and baby’s breath had been woven into her ginger locks, the sun’s glow giving it a halo effect. She looked like a redheaded goddess. 

She took his hands in hers, promising a vow of everlasting love. They slid their rings on one another’s fingers, thankful for there not being any kind of interruption. It was then, Kristoff realized, that confessing his love to Anna, two years prior, had been the best decision he would ever make in his life. Well, creating a child together from their love, who would be due in nine months time.

Ao3

[morgansmoreid]

Secrets  • Derek Morgan • Two

Fic Masterlist

Name: 5 Years and More

Warnings: Toxic Eating Habits, Drug Addiction, Unclassed Abuse 

(Italics Stand For Flashbacks) 

Forgetting that her airplane mode was already in use, Y/n quickly unsent her message and only stared at the words. Memories that started resurfaced were shaken away from the upbringing chills that started.

Even now, Y/n drifts off to a small park, the last place she remembers it was peaceful. She's always alone and always in the same spot.

The swings.

Swinging high in her mind, she was lightly shaken and followed everyone out of the aircraft. Frankly, she never liked driving, it was always something about a vehicle in her hands that made her uneasy, but when Derek throws her the keys and helps Penelope get in the backseat, she has no choice. Her eyes stay focused on the road though and as GPS plays in the background, she doesn't follow it. She cuts through neighborhoods and alleyways until the streets of her own jurisdiction where the annoying computer voice was shut off.

As they speed down the block, old stores, and new ones, say hi to the three in the car. Pulled to a red light, the reflection of the car and Y/n in the driver's seat are shown against the window of HAPPY'S DINER, and the same wretched guilt eats away as she looks at the booths. With the long light, she can't stop herself as she sees younger her, in the arms and around her best friends, dipping fries in milkshakes and denying food like no other.

"Just a water," Y/n ditched her usual basket of fries and closed the menu she didn't even bother to read. Everyone looked at her in shock and Sabrina stopped the waiter.

"She'd take a small basket of fries with a medium chocolate milkshake, please." The scribbles on the notepad followed before the young waiter walked away again.

"What was that about?" Y/n asked angrily. "I only want water, I'm not hungry."

"Yea. You never are anymore. Anytime we go out, it's always water with extra ice, we know this Y/n. But eat something please, at least in front of us." Caterina gave puppy eyes to her youngest lover.

Y/n nodded. She ate the fries and the shake as she used to and when everyone went their separate ways, James walked the few blocks with the 14 years old to her house.

"Cat is right." He speaks. "You never eat anything anymore and Daniela was starting to get worried so she said something."

"Rose gave me a paper," Y/n speaks truthfully. "She calls it her 'to eat and what to not' list and I was reading over it." The presumed sentence is paused as Y/n is for a loss of words and looks up to James. "I thought following it would make me pretty, like she said it was."

Immediate anger was raised in the older man. Not that he would say it, he thought Y/n was just a beauty and nothing more. He loves her hair, no matter the smile, or the struggle, he thought that it was one of her best aspects and he didn't like Rose saying otherwise. "Don't listen to her." Y/n had never heard such an angry tone come from anymore but her father then. "Rose is Rose and she doesn't know what the fuck she is talking about. You are beautiful, and I don't want you to feed into what she tells you." With the unexpected tone and words, fear ran over Y/n at first, but when James wrapped his arms around her and they approached her door, she knew he meant well.

"Thank you, James. You truly are my best friend." She placed a small kiss on his cheek and went inside the house that she dreaded most.

Instinct, Y/n's foot pressed the gas pedal and she continued her drive. Seeing her father after she moved out was never the best last time she made her promise herself that she would change.

Y/n watch her father shuffle around the kitchen. For once they were getting along. He told her to stay back and 'let him do his thing' so she did.

"I'll clean up after," Y/n said, smiling as her father poured in some wine to the dish. He nodded and soon dinner was ready.

"Y/n." He caught her attention. "I know you're 24 now, but I want you to move back home." He said.

"But the FBI Academy starts in Sept, I got a small apartment and I was coming to tell you." She reaches for her father's forearm but he pulls away. "Please don't be angry. I'm sober now and paid off all my student loans from NYU. I just want you to be in support of my new beginning." She tried to smile, but looking at her father's disappointed face, her smile flopped.

"No." He started at first. "No, I will not be supportive of this. Without me, you'd be nothing but that same high teenager who was getting into trouble. You don't get to leave me." His tone was steady and calm that fear rose.

"I- i- I'll come back, I'll drive every month if I have to, but please-" The sound of glass to the wall cut her off.

"Wanted to help clean up, right? Make sure the place is fucking spotless." Y/F/N got up and walked close to his daughter, causing her to back up until glass cracked under her feet and her head touched a small painting that was nailed to the wall. "You are still my daughter, regardless if you leave. You know the consequences of your actions, now you deal with them."

The black SUV pulled into the parking lot of the station and everyone got themselves ready before one by one, Y/n being last, got out of the car. With her briefcase in hand, she made sure the car was locked, unnecessarily walking around the car and checking every window and door. The leather in her hand swings side to side as the heels clack against the pavement. Y/n's hold her head down but can see Derek's hand fall after a small greeting with her father.

"Welcome Agent-" Her father's words stop at the face identical to his. "Y/n." His hand fails to fall because she takes it.

"Agent Fields, sir." The sound of her father's last name following her first makes her grimace but she puts on the act for the two at her side.

[unholyobsessions]

Sunset Coffee

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Julie develops a crush on the cute barista, little does she know he feels the same way

Warnings: none i think

Word Count: 3.5k

Prompt for jatp week Day 2: Write an AU. Modern AU / Coffee Shop AU @jatp-week​

The bell above the door dings as Julie pushes it open. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills her nostrils and she scrunches her face. She dislikes coffee, always has, too bitter for her taste, but she loves hot chocolate. Her mom used to make it for her at least twice a week and for a year after her mom’s passing, she made it her goal to find a coffee shop that made it as good as her mom did.

Sunset Coffee is a small shop in the corner of a small suburban neighborhood. It’s hidden behind the façade of a one story home, the only evidence of its existence being the small sign by the front lawn and on the door and the amazing yelp reviews left by their devoted customers.

Julie discovered it by accident. She was riding her bike around aimlessly through the city when she had the sudden urge to use the bathroom. Deciding to knock on the friendliest looking house, she was surprised to see the sign by the door. She went in carefully, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere created by the music playing softly in the background, and a number of college-looking students on their laptops or with textbooks opened around them. She went up to the island at the corner of the room, being used as a makeshift counter, and asked the barista on the other side if she could use their bathroom. The girl, looking no older than nineteen, smiled and pointed her in the correct direction.

Julie smiled back and rushed to the empty hallway, opening the door and walking in to do her business. She decides to stick around, going back to the counter and asking the question she has asked at dozens of other coffee shops.

“Do you sell hot chocolate?” The smile she receives in return answers her question. She stands by the counter as she waits for her drink, allowing her eyes to drift over the room. The walls are covered with different types of hand writing. Quotes from books, movies, or tv shows. Jokes, phone numbers, emails, and instagram handles. Theres a basket by the door, she notes, filled to the brim with different color markers, encouraging people to express themselves.

She receives her drink and she takes it, handing her the exact amount of change. She decides to explore the rest of the rooms, intrigued with the nice shop. The next room has couches instead of chairs and the walls are painted with chalk paint. There’s drawings, to-do lists, and so much more written on the walls. She smiles and takes the first sip of her drink. As soon as the liquid hit her tongue, she knows that she will never get a hot chocolate from anywhere else. It’s not quite the same as her mom’s but the difference is what makes it so good.

There’s a hint of cinnamon hidden behind the rich taste of chocolate and Julie finds herself closing her eyes, savoring the moment. She continues exploring, keeping a grasp of the mug. There is a total of four rooms. The entry one, the chalk one, one with bright red booths, mimicking an 80s looking diner, complete with a jukebox in the corner, and the last one that has normal black tables with gold accented walls. There are autographed picture frames of famous people who Julie assumes have visited the coffee shop hanging on the walls.

After finishing the drink, Julie places the mug in the sink by the corner meant for all used mugs and glasses. She bids goodbye to the barista and leaves, making note of the address and promising herself to be back soon. She went back two days later and has been there almost everyday. She goes after school, to do either her homework or work on some songs.

She looks up from her phone, ready to greet Flynn, who she became fast friends with and no longer has to even ask what she’s having, already having the drink prepped since seeing her pull up. She is however met by a male voice, welcoming her into the shop. Julie’s head snaps up to meet his eyes and she freezes. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone as attractive as the man standing before her. She clears her throat and continues walking forward, already pulling out her wallet from her backpack. She hands him the exact amount needed as she always does and he merely raises an eyebrow.

“Umm what are you having?”

Julie gapes at him, feeling stupid for her actions. “Oh! Right. A hot chocolate please. Sorry, Flynn already knows what I order so it’s a force of habit.” The man chuckles and presses a few buttons on the cash register, taking the money from her and handing her the receipt a few seconds later.

“No worries, I normally work mornings but Flynn called in sick so I offered to come in today.” He walks back to make her drink and Julie stands awkwardly by, gripping the straps of her backpack. He turns back and hands her the cup with a smile. “So with Flynn knowing your drink I’m guessing you’re a regular?” He asks, hoping to start a conversation with the pretty girl.

“Yeah,” Julie looks down for a second. “I’m Julie.” She would have offered her hand for a handshake but considering her grip on the mug, she decides it’s a bad idea.

“I’m Luke.” He slightly bites his lip and Julie has to try her best not to swoon over him. She nods her head and takes a step back going to sit in one of the empty tables. She normally opts for the couches in the chalk room but for some reason (certainly not the attractive barista) she decides to stay in the front room today.

Luke Patterson’s parents have owned Sunset Coffee since he can remember. The quaint little house on a suburban street owned by his grandparents was left to his family after their passing. The decision to remodel came after his dad lost his job, and the extra house in his name left room for ideas. He remembers sitting with his parents at the kitchen table as they decided what to do with it and his small, seven-year-old voice, speaking his opinion.

“We can sell coffee!”

Of course Luke didn’t drink coffee, but he hears the compliments given to his father’s coffee every time they have company over. To him it’s just a bitter drink he had once but from what he’s seen and heard, it’s seen as a necessity by adults.

His parents were a bit skeptical at first but the idea grew on them and they got to work. His mother designed the rooms, taking inspiration from the internet and his father took care of the menu, trying different concoctions that would often be served with dinner, decaf for young Luke of course.

Once it opened, it took a while for people to notice the hidden gem but once they did, everyone loved it. Although not known by many, those who come once normally decide to keep coming, loving the atmosphere it holds.

He started working there when he turned sixteen. At first he took the afternoon shift since he was still in high school, but after graduating he much preferred working mornings, since that left all of his afternoon free to practice with his band.

He’s known his bandmates all of his life. Living next door to Bobby made them friends by default and when they started first grade, they were introduced to both Alex and Reggie and the four have been inseparable ever since. They formed Sunset Curve freshmen year, naming themselves after their designated hangout spot.

They’re always hanging around when Luke has a shift, which is why it is not surprising when they burst through the door of the coffee shop as he is distracted, staring at Julie. The yell of his name breaks his trance and he rolls his eyes at the sight that greets him.

Reggie is draped over Bobby’s back, eyes drooping shut, probably from staying up all night writing his beloved country songs. Alex is smiling lovingly down at his phone and Luke makes a mental note of to tease him about that later.

They make their way to Luke and he tells them to go wait for his shift to be over in the diner room and then they could discuss their next gig. He tries his best to usher them away quickly, knowing that he will find it easier to work up the nerve to talk to Julie without them in the same room. They eye him suspiciously but ultimately ignore his strange attitude, walking away and down the hallway.

As this happens, Julie is opening her laptop and slipping on her earphones, her Spotify is opened to her ‘You Can Do It’ playlist and she hopes that this will encourage her to actually write her Common App essay. She is consistently drinking from the mug, finishing her hot chocolate sooner than expected.

After his friends finally decide to leave him alone he looks back to the pretty girl, lost in the her own little word. He is shocked to find the empty mug already placed on the table, and he is sure he has never seen anyone drink a hot chocolate that fast. He makes the quick decision to make her another one because by the way she has settled into her seat, it looks like she is going to be here for a while.

A few minutes later, Julie is startled when Luke picks up the empty cup and places new warm beverage, complete with whipped cream on the top, in front of her. She slips off one earbud and turns to him.

“Oh I didn’t order another one,” which as she thinks back, is a pretty stupid thing to say because of course he knows that she didn’t order another one, considering the fact that she has not moved from her spot.

“I know, it’s on the house,” he smiles at her and Julie swears it’s like looking at the rising sun. So bright, but beautifully enchanting that it makes it impossible to look away.

“Thank you,” she says, slightly embarrassed because she doesn’t know if he’s flirting or if he is just being considerate.

Of course Luke is flirting with her, and he hopes to God it’s working. He wants to ask for her number, but as he spots her laptop and sees the screen he suddenly deflates. There is a list of prestigious colleges open next to her google doc filled with essay prompts. He however, barely graduated and is not even in community college as he waits for his band to make it big. He has never been insecure about his decisions, and is actually extremely proud of what the band has accomplished, but as he stands before this beautiful and obviously intelligent girl, he suddenly feels as if his accomplishments are not good enough.

So instead of asking her out as he originally planned to, he walks away. He continues to stare at her though, and if he starts asking Flynn to switch shifts with him more often then it’s merely a coincidence.

. . .

It takes a month of endless pining for his friends to finally attempt to knock some sense into him.

It’s the eighteenth time that Luke has asked Flynn to change shifts with him in order to see Julie and speak to her for a few minutes. Flynn definitely knows what’s going on, and knows full well that Luke’s crush is reciprocated because of her many late night phone calls with Julie. She, of course, doesn’t say anything, simply agreeing to take the morning shift, and sending a quick text to Julie telling her that her knight in shining armor will be working that day. This text normally leads to Julie clearing her schedule and going to the coffee shop if she wasn’t planning to already.

Their interactions normally go as follows:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink, and gives her a compliment. “I like your jacket.” Julie will blush and avert her eyes, speaking a soft “Thank you” before taking the drink and paying. If she’s feeling confident (normally caused by a good score on a test that day) she’ll compliment him back. “I like your t-shirt” which normally translates to ‘I listen to that band as well.’ Luke will grin and then Julie will walk away.

It drives them both crazy because this is how they actually want their interactions to go:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink and gives her a compliment. “You look beautiful today.” Julie thanks him and compliments him back with a teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She takes the drink and pays but before she can walk away Luke stops her. “Do you maybe want to go out sometime?” Julie internally screams but keeps her cool on the outside, not wanting to seem desperate. “Yes, definitely.” They look away bashfully and Julie takes the seat closest to the counter, keeping conversation with Luke for the rest of his shift.

It never happens and it annoys all the regulars who have picked up on their feelings for each other.

Today, Julie finds herself receiving a text from Flynn which is why she is now pedaling in the direction of Sunset Coffee. There is a nice, light wind that rustles her hair as she bikes across the city. She stops in front of her favorite place, kicking down the stand and placing the bike behind the fence. She smiles at Luke, who, as per usual, sends her a grin and a wave from behind the counter.

Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, sit on the table closest to Luke, sending him teasing smiles that cause him to blush. He turns to make Julie’s regular hot chocolate as she takes out the exact change from her wallet. They all eye the exchange, wondering if today will finally be the day one of them makes a move. They are disappointed to see the two exchange nothing more than shy smiles and thank you before Julie walks away and into another room.

Luke turns back to his friends, ready to continue their conversation about the gig on Saturday to find them all glaring at him. He quickly raises his hands up in defense, rushing out a “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” Alex says. Which is followed by “Agreed” and “I second that” by both Reggie and Bobby respectively.

“You’ve been in love with her since the second you laid eyes on her. Even Reggie noticed and he is as oblivious as it gets,” Alex continues. Reggie points his finger in agreement, seemingly ignoring the dig at him.

Luke looks down at his feet, already embarrassed out how glaringly obvious he is. “It’s just,” he pauses and his friends wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts. “She’s too good for me. I mean she’s applying to universities right now and not just any random colleges, she’s going for the good ones, Ivys, UCs, that’s more than I ever did. I almost failed out of high school. I’m a knock-off Luke Hemmings doing nothing with his life.”

Insecure is not a trait anyone would normally use to describe Luke. Cocky, passionate, attractive? Sure, but never insecure. They’re all even more surprised at his reasons for not asking a girl out. He normally uses the band as a way to attract people to him, he’s never hidden it in shame.

“Luke you are literally one of the most talented people I have ever met,” Bobby starts. “Just because you crave success in something other than academics it doesn’t make you a failure. If she doesn’t realize how insanely amazing you are then she’s not the one and that’s that.” Luke looks up at him and he’s extremely glad that today is a slow day and the shop is basically empty because he’s almost sure he’s about to cry.

“Go ask her out man,” Reggie says.

“And if she says no then you can just go back to working mornings,” Alex offers. Luke throws a dirty dishrag at him and they all laugh. Luke then takes a deep breath and starts making another hot chocolate to take to Julie, almost sure that she is probably already done with hers.

He holds the drink carefully in his hands and makes his way down the hallway, finding her in the chalk wall room. She’s holding a pencil tight in her head and her eyes are closed. She’s tapping her foot at an even beat before suddenly stopping and writing something down. Her open laptop with a half done essay sits abandoned next to her.

Luke taps her shoulder, startling her out of her daze. She smiles up at him and it only widens once she sees the mug he’s carrying.

“I figured you might want another one,” he shrugs his shoulders as she takes it gratefully.

“You know, you don’t have to keep giving me free drinks,” she says before taking a long sip of the warm beverage.

Luke scratches the back of his neck gives himself a mental pep talk, taking a deep breath before speaking. “Well, if I’m being honest, I keep doing it trying to work up the courage to ask you out.” He fiddles with the apron tied around his waist and looks at her, trying to decipher what she’s thinking.

Julie doesn’t know what she’s thinking. The guy she has been simping over for a month just said he wants to ask her out, she focuses her energy on swallowing the sip she already had in her mouth without choking before looking up at him. She gets a sudden wave of confidence (she aced her calculus test) and she opens her mouth to speak. “And have you? Built up the courage I mean.”

She sends him a dazzling smile and Luke is sure that he is about to faint but he manages to keep his composure. “I sure hope so,” he mumbles under his breath before saying, “Julie will you like to go on a date with me?”

“I would love to.” They smile at each other before they both look away, suddenly bashful. “How about Saturday?” Julie suggests.

“Actually my band and I have a gig on Saturday,” Luke says slightly embarrassed but then he remembers what Bobby said and stands up straighter. “Actually, will you like to go? To the gig. It’s nothing big really, it’s in this club but it’s supposed to be really packed on Saturdays so we’re hoping it will be good exposure.”

Julie’s eyes widen in surprise, cursing Flynn for not telling her that Luke is in a band because it suddenly made him a hundred times more attractive. “Yes! Oh my gosh I would love to go. I love music, I’m actually applying to be a music major.” Now it’s Luke’s turn to be surprised.

“You play?” He sits down in front of her, his job suddenly forgotten, but he’s confident that one of the guys will take over if a customer comes in. They’ve seen him make orders enough times to know how to do it.

Julie nods. “The piano, my mom taught me when I was young and I fell in love with it. I don’t know what I want to do with it though so I’m hoping to double major in music and something else.”

Luke quickly realizes that his insecurities were completely misplaced. “That’s really cool. I play guitar and I’m the lead singer. Not that I’m bragging!” He is quick to defend himself, not wanting to seem overly confident and Julie giggles.

“When did you start playing?”

“My parents bought me an acoustic guitar when I was six, hoping that it would make me stop running around the house so much. They never expected their son to refuse to go to college to pursue his rock band though.” Luke shrugs at the end, his parents are supportive of him, they weren’t for a while but they came around and go to a lot of his gigs.

“I think it’s really admirable,” Julie says. Luke raises his eyebrows, a silent request for her to elaborate. “To be so passionate about something, to know what you want to do with that passion, and pursuing it no matter what.”

Luke knows he is blushing and is about to say something when Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, pop their heads into the room.

“Did you do it?”  “Did she say yes?” “Did you choke?” Are all questions his best friends ask. Luke sighs and shakes his head and Julie does her best to bite back a laugh.

“I did do it. She’s coming to the show on Saturday.” His friends cheer and Julie is unable to contain her laughter.

The guys all rush into the room and introduce themselves to Julie keeping her company as Luke goes back to work.

. . .

Julie goes to their show on Saturday, and every single one of their shows after that. And her decision to accept UCLA’s offer in April was definitely not influenced by her relationship with the cute barista.

[yelenasdog]

wondrous mess (40s!bucky x fem reader)

𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst with some tooth rotting fluff halfway 

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: war is so cruel, it’s only fair that the both of them have to expirience it’s wrath together.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 11k+ (my longest fic!!)

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: the beginning shows implications of alcoholic tendencies and behavior as well as derogatory terms from the 40s to describe those who are suffering from alcoholism, war, character death, denial of death, being a widow, cheating, crying, implications of sex, that’s abt it. if i missed any, feel free to shoot me an ask or message :) 

𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: (listen to these in order for best reading experience)

☆time flies- mac miller

☆at last- etta james

☆crying time- dean martin

☆paper rings- taylor swift

☆fine line- harry styles

☆dream a little dream of me- ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong 

☆twilight time- the platters

☆you don’t have to say you love me- jerry vale

☆moon river- andy williams

☆as the world caves in- matt maltese

☆we’ll meet again- vera lynn

☆everlong (acoustic version)- foo fighters

𝚊/𝚗: i hope u enjoy this!! i’ve worked so hard on this and done so much research, it truly took the most time and effort i’ve ever used in a fic. there’s more disclaimers at the end :)

·。·☆·。·。

December 28th, 1941

The alleyway was dark, unnerving, and cold. A man’s loud and gruff voice projected through the nearly empty alley, bouncing off of the newly propaganda strewn walls. His arm was left hanging defenseless in the air.

“Don’t go, please, we’ll talk it out.” His 5 o’clock shadow seemed more prominent, his clothes wrinkled and smelling of alcohol while his breath was that of smoke.

He had changed since they had gotten together, but he wasn’t the only one.

She turned on her heels from where she stood just outside the backstreet, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill. 

She had aged in the time she had been with Jake, the lines on her face deepening, the bags under her eyes darkening with blue and purple hues. Her painted lips had become cemented in a scowl, her formerly bright smile rarely seeing the light of day. But the distraught girl had no intentions of letting her new Bésame mascara go to waste on some jerk, much like the past few years of her life had. She strutted towards the blonde, regaining her lost composure.

She jabbed a manicured finger onto his chest, causing the man to recede slowly, the girl he had angered not far behind.

“You listen here, you crumb. I will not sit around all slack happy so you can go around and kiss some other dame behind my back.” She removed her hand, crossing it tightly against her chest with her other arm.

“Well, I was buzzed, that bird wasn’t even any importanc-“

“You’re unbelievable!” She gasped, rolling her eyes. She turned away once again. Jake followed in suit.

“Leave me alone, Jake.” She kept her eyes straight ahead on the unfamiliar Brooklyn sidewalk. She had originally come to the area to surprise her now ex- boyfriend after his work in the factory, but was in for a shock when she saw him making out with some girl (not for the first time) just outside the diner on the way.

So even if she didn’t have a clue where she was going, she sure as hell was going to act like she did. Seeing that her stride wasn’t faltering, he made an outcry of her name followed by a bellowed  “No!”

Jake grabbed her shoulder, and she shrugged it off, continuing to walk down the cobblestone street. There were cars buzzing past, and people talking around her on the street.

Couples. Happy couples who she quite honestly envied.

“You’re not allowed to touch me like that anymore.” Jake scoffed at her seemingly venomous words, wrapping a strong hand around her dainty wrist.

“Now don’t go into a decline, it’s not that big of a deal.” Her eyes narrowed at the sandy blond.

“Oh, please. You kissed her, and all the others, because you wanted to and because you could. No regard for anyone’s feelings but your own, just like always. And I’m sick of it, I really am!” She threw her hands up, and they fell back to her side with an audible plop against the gabardine fabric.

Jake looked around nervously at all the people whose attention he had drawn, his eyes darting to and fro.

“Don’t make a scene,” he called her by her nickname in a vain attempt to draw out her sympathy. “Please, we can work it out like we always do.”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You have no place to do so. And I think I’ve made my point fairly evidently. Jake Nelson, you are nothing but a swigger and a cheat, and I want nothing to do with it any longer. Goodbye.” She felt a rush of adrenaline as she picked her head up, the setting sun in what to her seemed a poetic manor.

She didn’t know where she was, how she would get home, where she would sleep. But he was gone. That parasite that had been feeding off of her and her emotions, taking advantage of her again and again, was finally gone. And it felt great. She took a breath of the heavily polluted air, noting how it somehow seemed clearer.

She could breathe again, and the feeling was intoxicating. In her newfound bliss, she continued walking for she didn’t know (nor care to find out) how long.

The sky that had since changed from it’s scarlets and oranges to an indigo sheet (becoming nearly impossible to see the stars with all the heavy smoke wafting in the air from the ever so busy factories) provided a hint at exactly how long it had been since she began her adventure. 

She would stare at the buildings as she walked past, analyzing those who walked in and out of them, considering the way they walked, how some appeared dreary, others animated, and making up backstories for them each in her mind. Some of her stories were sadder than others, and some had the most glorious of tales. She liked to think that she was correct about her human hypotheses, even if she was the furthest thing from it.

She swung her head to the left side of the street she was walking on, and not far ahead, she noticed a rickety looking old bar. After her day's events, she felt she deserved a celebratory drink, so she pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the dimly lit area.

The airy sound of piano filled the air, a joyful demeanor to the place. Couples (which she still envied, even if momentarily the said envy had gone vacant) were dancing about happily. Not a care in the world. Not in the moment, at least.

But when she made it past the entrance, that moment stopped. It was like every head turned, all conversations paused, the clinking of the piano keys was no longer to be heard. She gave a small nervous smile to the occupants of the room as she walked to the bar itself, standing just a tad bit taller at the attention. 

And as soon as the moment had stopped, it seemed to have started back up again when she ended up at her destination. Because as she had learned, time truly never stopped for anyone. 

The piano’s melody resumed, everyone was back on their feet in no time. She took a look around, soaking up the atmosphere in complete awe, feeling free as a bird of some sort.

Soon enough, she was slowly sipping away at her concoction while facing the splintering door, her head occupied with thoughts concerning what came next, how she would handle the effects of this adrenaline high she was now stepping off. Her thinking was interrupted, though, by a deep voice and a tap on the shoulder, making her jump in her seat.

“‘Scuse me?”

She turned on her stool to face whoever it was that wanted her attention. Both figures eyes widened at the sight of the other, shock spreading across their faces.

“Well if it isn’t James Barnes!” She spoke, genuine excitement filling her soul. He called out her old nickname, contended with his discovery.

“It’s been awhile! And please, doll, it’s Bucky.” He reminded her with a charming smile. A warm blush rose up from her neck to her cheeks, and butterflies suddenly hatched in her stomach, fluttering about like nobody's business. She nodded, taking another sip from her drink to avoid meeting his eyes (which were much prettier than she ever had remembered from school). 

The clean shaven boy- or man as of late, pulled out a chair next to her, sitting down. The two engaged in friendly conversation, their laughs mixing in the warm, thick air with the sounds of the music. Her heart was beating out of her chest, leaving her feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again.

After some time of very pleasant conversation, a less effervescent matter had risen.

“So,” James began, taking a swig from his glass. “Still with that souse, what was his name,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Jake! That’s his name, Jake!” 

The girl shook her head and rolled her eyes with a laugh.

He was enchanted already.

She began to tell a toned down version of the occurrences with Jake, Bucky remaining captivated by her presence the entire time. James would speak up every few statements, always resulting in her losing her place, not that she minded.

Towards the end of the so called story, there was an interruption towards the front of the bar. 

The moment stopped once more, but in a quite different manner than how it did when she had first entered.

He hollered out her name, followed by an equally as loud “Where are you?” He turned to a man to his left. “Where is she?” He slurred. The scruffy man only shrugged, scooting away from the drunken one that had walked into the brick building.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” She questioned, slowly walking towards the man, trying not to upset him further. 

“Why’d you leave me, huh?! Why’d you cause a scene and go?” He was hysterical. Tears ran down his red face and his hands feverishly grabbed at his scraggly locks for some sense of comfort. 

“Jake, you’re not in your right mind. Leave me alone and go home, you’re leaving your mother worrying, I’m sure of it.”

Her voice began to shake, ripples of emotion that had been repressed for the past years bubbling up to the surface, taunting her, threatening her, to erupt.

And God, his mother, his poor mother.

The frail old woman was half the reason she had even stayed with Jake in the first place,

Her heart was weak, and her son’s behavior never left her any room to breath. So the girl would dedicate much of her time to cooking meals for the widowed Ms. Nelson, bringing them over and sitting with her for hours on end, speaking with her of Jake’s childhood, memories of her late husband spending time with the boy along with it.

Her favorite stories throughout them all, though, were the ones of Jake’s childhood pup, a golden retriever called Benjamin.

Ms. Nelson loved to tell the story of how odd it was that the young boy chose the human name, rather than something frivolous and fun, like Buddy, or Peanut.

So a teary eyed version of the girl would think back to that story whenever Jake would behave in this manner, she would think of Benjamin and a youthful Jake, frolicking in the Oklahoma fields where Jake had grown up.

An extremely happy child, an even sweeter boy.

But no longer could she do so. Not now, after Jake had gone and betrayed her for some random girl.

Some random girl who would never sit with his mother for hours, listening to her weep about her broken son who she pretended to not notice was silently suffering. Some random girl who wouldn’t comfort him when he had a rough day at work, trying to be an active distraction so that he wouldn’t turn to his vice.

Because she had loved Jake Nelson, even if she wanted to pretend she didn’t.

And it hurt her to walk away, but she had to, for his own good.

Which led her to push the image of a golden fluff ball and the face of a smiling small boy out of her mind completely, weighing herself down to the present, meeting Jake’s sad emerald eyes. She walked forward, taking him by the shoulders. Her voice was hushed as she spoke.

“Jake. You’ve become someone I don’t know, someone that’s hard to love. But I did it anyway for a long, long time. Maybe some other time, perhaps even in another life, we can be together. But that all depends on you.

You’ve hurt me, and I can’t pretend you haven’t any longer, Jake. So go home. Please.”

Her eyes hunted through his, sifting for some sign of reassurance that he understood the gravity of the situation.

“But I love you-” He whispered, acting a stuttering mess. Everyone at the bar had gone back to whatever they were doing before he came into the room, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever mess it was obvious the two of them were in.

She took hold of the brown fabric of his coat, gently turning him towards the door. She walked behind him, her hand not leaving his back for some subconscious fear he would do something he would regret once he was of sober mentality.

She discarded it as nonsense;

But nevertheless, her death grip on him never faltered, even for a moment.

As soon as she made it outside, she waved over a cab, the bright yellow vehicle being the only completely visible object in the cool night.

It pulled over with a loud screech, leaving rubber tracks on the damp asphalt. She wrinkled her nose, before digging around her embroidered bag in a flurry, pulling together $5.27 exactly. She knew it would be enough to cover the long ride from the factory to his home, as the high cost of the ride was one of his many worries he did his best to forget in any way he could possibly fathom.

So she told the cabbie his address, helping Jake into the back of the car. He held her hand and looked up to her with pleading eyes. She squeezed it once before putting his back on his lap.

“Goodnight, Jake.” She smiled softly, briefly touching his cheek before shutting the door. She saw him look out the dirty window, before leaning back into the leather headrest and letting his tired eyes flutter to a close, finding momentary bliss, despite all going on around him.

She took a deep breath, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, watching him until the taxi was just barely visible, to where calling it a yellow blob would be generous. But she followed it with her eyes not a moment later, for she had some explicable fear from a tall-tale her mother had told her long ago, about how you would never see someone again if you watched them off completely.

Whether that be by death or some curious mishap along the journey towards it, she never quite felt the urge to find out. And one could take that as a bitter yet nectarous testament to her feelings towards Jake, but even if she wanted to, she wasn’t even sure if she could herself.

She revolved in zombie like fashion, too caught up in her own world once more, to notice a certain brown haired (soon to be, not that he knew it) sergeant.

A stormy look of displeasure had casted itself across his stark features, but his cerulean eyes remained cordial, almost like a safe haven of calm waters to find refuge in.

And almost like in every cliche love story that ever was, she bumped into Bucky, gasping before transitioning into an expression of her regret, a waterfall of apologies gushing from her lips.

He called her by her nickname once more, catching her attention and making her heart skip a beat.

“Seriously, it’s alright, no harm done.”

She zipped her mouth shut, so to say, and just gave a curt nod before starting to go inside. And ever the gentleman, Bucky let her get halfway to the door before calling out her name. She turned once more, salty droplets beginning to roll down her face. 

“Yes?”

He looked down to his feet and then to the bustling city street beside him. After much contemplation in the span of what felt like hours (but was only a few moments), he met her eye.

“I know it’s not my place, and if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, we don’t have to, but what happened in there-”

He paused, taking a deep breath in a futile effort to put his nerves at bay, keep the storm from shore to the best of his abilities. He puffed his cheeks, offering his arm before retreating it again, similarly to the way Jake had however many hours ago.

“You don’t deserve that.” He shook his head, left to right, his ungelled hair shiny under the yellow street lights, making him look like an angel.

“I know.”

He shuffled closer to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind howled around them in an agonizing manner, how lone wolves under a full moon would do the same.

They watched as their frosty breaths floated like smoke in the air, their faces illuminated by the storefront displays lining the streets from Christmas that was only a few days prior, leaving no time to take down the brightly colored decor. You could practically hear the animated Santa Claus’ “Ho ho ho!” from where he sat in the front of a toy store, beckoning those who walked past to come on inside and take a look, maybe spend a few dollars.

But to Y/n, it felt as if the cheery old man was simply mocking her as she was in her current state.

“Really, I mean that, I do.”

Now to reiterate, Bucky was a gentleman, that much was clear. So although he outright wanted to tell her that it seemed as if she didn’t realize her own worth and that, Hell, Steve could treat her better than that punk. But alas, he kept it to himself, only doing his best to comfort her, upsetting her further, never an intention in his mind.

She nodded, giving a tight lipped smile. “Thanks, really.”

She shivered, admiring the red and green lights around her, her glazed over eyes reflecting the image of them beautifully, almost like a work of stained glass art in her iris.

“You wanna head back inside? You look kinda chilly.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m just going to stay out here for awhile.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

All that was heard then, was the clicking of his shoes against the cobblestone, with the occasional car whizzing past. But then, she asked him to stay.

Her voice was soft, so much so, in fact, that she possessed what Bucky would say was mistakable for the voice of a mouse, which he would know after spending as many years around Steve that he had. He almost had missed it, but by some miracle, maybe a lucky star, he didn’t

So he turned around, not saying anything to disturb her seemingly exteriorly serene state, only walking up behind her, pulling off his jacket and placing it on top of her shoulders. He smoothed it out briefly, his touch feather light. For he wasn’t sure if he was breaching a certain level of intimacy, breaking any boundaries, with a woman who was practically a stranger.

“Is this alright?”

She nodded again.

“This is fine.” She closed her eyes, feeling much warmer now, but she was slightly torn on if the newfound comfort was accredited to the jacket resting upon her shoulders, or the company standing patiently beside her.

She was starting to think it might just be a little bit of both.

-

June 14th, 1943

The two's relationship (if you could call it that) was painstakingly slow, not that Bucky ever minded.

Word of the war and when, not who, would get drafted had spread, and any waking second for the past years, she was terrified the man she was developing ever strong feelings for would be ripped away with only a moments notice.

But regardless of that, she had a hard time trusting him, that much was true. It wasn’t his fault, not in the slightest. She wished more than anything to forget her past with Jake, but it was no use. So it took her much time to be able to trust James. But he was patient, and he always stayed.

So when he did get called away, it was a rude awakening.

She had only recently met Steve, before Bucky (who she still called James) was sent overseas. Her maternal instinct she didn’t even know she had immediately kicked into overdrive at first sight of the sickly boy, making her promise Buck that she would watch over him, much to Steve’s dismay. Although, there was no doubt in any of their minds she would in the first place, it was a given.

(Steve secretly loved the way she fussed over him, but he would never admit to that.)

The three of them had a lovely time at the Stark Expo the night before Bucky left, leaving a happy new memory for Y/n to drift to whenever she missed the scent of sandalwood, sweat, and his cologne, that was all uniquely him.

She would picture entangling her arms with Steve and Bucky’s own as she skipped happily, pulling the boys along behind her; not too rough of course, for Steve’s sake

She had been full of an electric happiness that night, stealing kisses with James when Steve wasn’t looking, a pink tint falling upon his plump cheeks. She stole his hat right off his head of hair that she loved to run her fingers through so much and put it on, crooked so much so it nearly fell right off. She wore it the whole rest of the night, Bucky wanting to never see her take it off, if it were possible.

Later that night when he took her home, she stood by the doorway, the porch light doing a sad job of lighting up the area, casting a faint amber glow across James’ features.  

The hairs left astray from where she had Bucky’s hunter green cap previously were lit up, forming a halo. 

She was a wondrous mess, and James simply adored her in that moment.

(He also adored her in any other instance since the minute he had laid his eyes on her, but the point still stands.)

You could smell the grass if you had tried, freshly cut and still damp from the late night shower they had run through while making their way home, turning through twisty alleyways, feet pattering against walkways.

Their hands had been slipping apart the entire time, perhaps an attempt by Freyr for a cruel joke in the last hours the lovers would spend together before James was to leave.

Maybe he was up in the sky at Mount Olympus, laughing down at the two mortals as the girl kept her hand gripped securely around the man’s stronger limb, refusing under any circumstances to let go. Maybe his laugh turned to a fond smile from above, finding pleasure in how his jest resulted in such an act of youthful care, not minding in the slightest that it had been counterproductive in the best ways.

“Thank you, James. I had an amazing night.”

He grinned ear to ear, awkwardly shuffling closer to her silhouette.

“Same here, doll.”

And just like that, she had crumbled like a coffee cake, another warm and itchy wave silking up her neck. Past the neckline of the uncomfortable dress she wore because she knew Bucky loved it (even though he would no longer love it and would insist she never wear it again if his ears heard any words of upset at the garment fall past her lips).

It traveled right past her best pearls with the rhinestone right in the center that she had made sure to wear because James had once told her that they made her eyes sparkle, that sly son of a gun.

The twinkle truly had been there solely because of him on that day and most others, but she would allow him to believe what he wanted to believe until the end of time, if it kept that boyish smile cemented on his pretty face.

But as it eventually always would, his smile began to falter, shifting into a slight pout, then into a full on frown as soon as her eyes had become visibly misty.

Bucky reached a hand forward snatching the cap from her head. She huffed, and he rolled his eyes as he placed it back on his head. 

“I’ll be needing this tomorrow, sorry, sweetheart.”

They both laughed for a moment, the memories of the night still fresh in their young minds.

“I’m going to miss you, James.”

Her chin suddenly quivered, her nose ran, and her thoughts were racing at the speed of light.

She couldn’t lose him. No, not yet, she wasn’t ready, she wouldn’t ever be ready. She hadn't even begun to express to him how much she loved him, let alone that she couldn’t bear to live a day without him (as the information was quite new to her as well). So how in God’s name was she supposed to ship him off to war, just like that, practically a sitting duck for those bastard nazis to poke and prod at all they want?

“I’ll miss you more, darlin’. More than you know.”

They both made an attempt at watery smiles that ended up looking more like two painful grimaces, which was more of a reflection of their current moods than the aforementioned. His eyes pleaded with her to say something, anything. One of her quick witted facts, maybe a scolding perhaps, for having such a negative attitude in the current predicament.

Not able to stare at his collapsing facade any longer, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She quickly reciprocated, placing a strong hand on her waist.

There was a longing look in her eyes as the gears of her brain turned, carefully formulating what she wanted to say.

“Marry me.”

Well, formulating is a strong word.

He laughed at the notion, the sound ringing out and echoing off the small porch. But the whimsical tune soon halted when he realized he was the only one making it.

“Doll, are you serious?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my life, James.” She moved her hands to take his, holding them up to her chest and shaking them as she spoke with a supplicate glance. He said her nickname in a careful manner, trying to articulate a response, muttering something about not having a ring, how their families (Becca included) would be furious they missed the wedding. But she was having none of it.

“Well I’m sure given the circumstances, they’d understand, and if they don’t then oh well. And quite frankly, as for the ring, I could care less, James, make a ring out of paper and slap it on my finger, it's all the same to me. We can go to the court tomorrow morning before I see you off-”

She moved her head down to where Bucky was gazing, tilting it back up with her pointer finger.

“Let me marry you, dammit.”

They laughed for a second, both of them this time, although her’s was much more convincing.

“But why now?”

She paused again, the only sound to be heard was the soft chirping of the crickets hidden in the grass.

“Because I know you're far too much of a gentleman to leave me widowed, James Barnes.”

He pressed soft kisses on her knuckles, meeting her eyes.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Oh, only every day.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled, pulling her in by the waist. He connected their lips, and felt her smile into the kiss. He also happened to feel a hand creeping up to where his hat rested on the crown of his head, but the feeling wasn’t prolonged.

She snatched it off his shiny locks with a devilish grin, a sparkle in her eye shining like the North star Bucky soon would be gazing upon at night to direct him through the dark nights.

“You should keep that on for forever, you know. Looks better on you, anyway.”

She raised a messy eyebrow, the corner of her bright red mouth turning into a smirk.

“Oh really, is that so?”

Bucky hummed and nodded, kissing her nose and watching in delight as it crinkled up and a high pitched giggle escaped from her lips. Then it was quiet for some time, the only thing able to be heard was the droplets of rainwater sliding off the roof and plopping on the floor as her and James stood in contemplation.

“I’ll marry you, doll.”

She smiled at him warmly, leaning into his larger frame completely, the scratchy green fabric of his uniform flush against her cheek.

“I know.”

He barked a loud laugh, and she felt it through the fabric covering his chest, savouring the feeling.

“You know? Well how did you know?”

She only sighed, moving to open her rickety front door, which the whole neighborhood probably knew judging by the squeak that echoed from it.

“Because, just as I said before. You’re a gentleman. You’d never turn down a proposal in public, especially not from me.”

Bucky’s face contorted, and the gears of his head turned as he made an honest effort at understanding how they were in public.

“But, we’re not?”

She shook her head, stepping into her home and then turning to face him straight on.

“Technically, we were on the patio, which is in the yard, which is in the neighborhood, which is in public. Now, if I were to propose to you right now with you-”

She tugged his arm, forcing him into the building. 

“-also in my home, you would have every right to say no.”

She looked up, scanning his features. Admiring his cheekbones, his lips, and his sharp jaw. But most prevalently, she found herself absolutely enchanted by his eyes, as she always was.

“But I won’t.”

“But you won’t.”

She smiled, the look on her face resembling that of a fox smirking at her prey. She waltzed to the door, closing it softly.

“So,” she began, taking hold of Bucky’s hands.

“Tomorrow morning it is, then?”

“I think it is.”

“Whatever shall we do in the meantime?” She questioned, both of them having ideas that were entirely the same.

“I think I might have an inkling of an idea.”

She huffed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You and your ideas, James. Always ‘thinking’ of something new.”

He only hummed in agreement, nuzzling his forehead against hers, before moving down to her ear.

“I’d like to believe I act on those ideas. Would you agree?”

You can most likely guess her answer.

-

The next morning was a mixture of great sorrow and great joy all at once. Sure, they had to get up at the crack of dawn on what would be Bucky’s last chance to sleep in for a very long time, and sure, the minister had given them very strange looks, but it had been done.

And to the newly wed Mr and Mrs. Barnes, it was worth it completely.

But nearly as soon as the exciting event had ended, she was standing on the slimy pebbles of Brooklyn's Pier 57, doing her best to not lose her footing on the wet stones. She had given James one final goodbye kiss, before watching him board the Dominion Monarch to be shipped off to England.

The large vessel departed, and for once, she allowed a few tears to slip down her blushed cheeks, her smeared mascara coming with it, just as she knew it would. The bitter droplets were warm, a juxtaposition to the feeling in the pit of her stomach formed by the voice nagging at her that Bucky would never see her again. That her wedding day would be the last time she would ever see her husband. It was a possible reality she never wanted to have to face.

And after so long, she decided she was tired of waiting. So she made a call.

“Hello? Is this Agent Margaret Carter?”

-

December 25th, 1943

Bucky Barnes was not opposed to the idea of Y/n joining the army. He was appalled.

So when on the crisp morning of December 25th, it was quite a surprise when he opened what he had presumed to be a letter wishing him a Merry Christmas from his wife, and rather receiving some interesting news.

He had been laying his backside against a tree, the scratchy bark feeling rather uncomfortable. He smiled, smiled at the news of his wife going to war, not that he knew, when Steve handed him the parchment, taking another sip of some watered down joe from an aluminum cup, before excitedly ripping into it like a little boy.

“I wanted to save it for today,” Steve had told him, his chest puffed out in pride for keeping the secret for so long.

Bucky initially had found it humorous and exciting, why wouldn’t he have? But his mood soon changed after reading just a few lines in.

“James, my love,

I hope this message finds you and the rest of the boys in good health, tell them I wish them all a happy Christmas, as well. There really isn’t a simple way to put this, and I hope it doesn’t put a damper on your holiday spirit, but I’ve been tired of sitting around, so I’ve spoken to Steve’s friend, Agent Carter. I now have enlisted in the SSR as Agent Barnes.”

The paper clenched in his fist, his eyes screwing shut. He didn’t even bother reading the rest before standing up and walking over to Steve, a fiery look set in his eyes. Steve soon caught on to his anger, standing up and parting his lips as he neared.

“Steve, did you know?”

Steve, a horrible liar, shrugged, furrowing his brows. “About what? Buck, what's wrong?”

“Don’t lie to me, Rogers! Did you know about her enlisting?”

At that, it went silent in the forest aside from the rustling of the branches, and the chirps of early rising blackbirds. 

The rest of the Commandos turned, eyes wide, shoulders hunched. Steve gestured for them to calm down and return to normal with a dramatic sweep of his arms, with most of them complying, but not without a few snarky comments from Dum Dum and Gabe protesting the treatment.

“Listen, I tried to stop her-”

“Well apparently, you did a horrible job. God, Agent Barnes. That’s what she'll be known as now. We'll have the whole bunch! Sarge and Agent, wow, we are gonna be one decorated family, ain’t that right, Steve?”

Bucky was ranting and rambling now, spewing angry nonsense at Steve as if that would change a thing. Steve felt a pang of guilt, hanging his head and biting his knuckle.

“Buck, is it a problem that she’ll be an Agent?”

Bucky paused, his nostrils flaring and his eyes slanting.

“Of course it’s a problem, Steve! If they put her in the field, God knows what’ll happen! What if I have to see that name on a plaque some day, huh? In a museum, in some memorial for fallen agents.” His arm put emphasis on every word he shouted, and his voice had grown raspy, tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

Steve sat his exasperated friend down, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. It distressed Steve to see Bucky this upset, after all he had done for him over the years. So if he could try to make him feel even the slightest bit relieved, he would in any way he had to.

“Bucky?”

He looked up, his eyes red and nose puffy.

“Think about how you're feeling right now. The fear, the hurt, the anxiety, all of it.”

“Steve, I don’t get how this is going to help me-”

“Just trust me.”

Bucky nodded, slumping over again.

“That’s how she feels. That’s how she felt when the war was announced, how she felt when you submitted your draft, how she felt when you were called away, Hell, how she feels every second of every hour that you’re not with her.”

“Still not helping.”

“Shut up, jerk.” They laughed, Steve elbowing him in his shoulder. The sound echoed through the lush green of the space, the tension noticeably thinner.

“The point is, the pain that this all has caused for everyone is inevitable, inescapable. So learn from it, and savour it. In the long run, we’ll be okay, Buck. I promise you that.”

James bit his bottom lip, puncturing the chapped skin, the blood pounding in his head making it hard to process what Steve had said. But what he did manage to gather, was that they would be okay.

-

February 11th, 1944

“Peggy, I’m nervous.”

“What? Are you kidding? You must be kidding, you’re ridiculous.”

Peggy gave the girl a dirty look from where she stood behind her in front of the only full length mirror at the base, looking as she straightened out her skirt and touched up her “victory” colored lip.

“I’m not kidding, Peg. What if he’s mad?”

The other agent only laughed, briefly touching her on the shoulder before walking around her to where a map of the Hydra bases they had been tracking were laid out. Peggy fiddled with one of the flags for a moment, speaking to a soldier nearby. She impatiently tapped her crimson nails on the board, the sound driving her friend insane. Peggy then began to speak, not even looking up from where she stood, bent over as she examined something else.

“Darling, the only thing Barnes will be mad about by now, is not seeing you for so long. If he was angry before, he’s long forgotten about it, I assure you that.”

She nodded (even though nobody except a nosy recruit had witnessed it).

“You know what, I think you’re right. Thanks, Peg.”

Margaret half smiled, “mmhm” ing, but keeping her head down. She did, however, lift it up when she heard the other woman’s heels clicking in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me?” Peggy remarked, brows raised and her arms crossed.

Agent Barnes turned, her painted lips beckoning Peggy to go on in a most humorous manner.

“We aren’t done here! Get over here and help me mark this up, I’m nearly finished.”

She rolled her eyes, to which Peggy only rushed her more.

By the time they were done (spoiler, she was not almost finished) several hours had passed, and the camp was now lit only by the lanterns and the moon in the obsidian sky.

The stars were visibly bright that night, twinkling like small diamonds without the restriction of smoke from busy factories and the blockage of the ever so fascinating skyscrapers.

Mr and Mrs. Barnes both were watching the stars that night, smiling at the thought of the other doing the same.

Yes, even Bucky, smiling at the thought of his wife despite his neck developing a crick from having laid on the knapsack in the back of the truck for so long. A lovestruck glance was still plastered on his face as he stared up, the road bumpy underneath the wheels of the vehicle. His body would jolt as a cause from this every once in a while, but he paid it no mind, the soft smile staying put.

Steve watched Bucky’s facial expressions, a grin coming across his own features.

“You thinkin’ about her?”

Steve looked up to the sky.

“Always am.”

-

“I know you want to wait up for him, but I promise as soon as I get word of if he’s here, I’ll wake you. You need rest.”

The agent only smiled, her eyes staying trained on the stars above. “I’ll come to bed soon, Peg. I swear.”

But Margaret knew her friend all too well, so she simply bid her goodnight and shook her head.

She whispered, though her friend was too far away to hear her, laying on her backside and tucking her arms behind her head on the damp grass.

“Goodnight, Peggy.”

She had fallen asleep on the green that night, the stars wooing her into a slumber with thoughts of her beloved. She was only awoken when she felt the ground rumble beneath her, and heard the loud whirring of a hummer engine. She sat up, pressing her hands in the wet soil. She squinted and was barely able to make out two tall men jumping out from the back of the car. 

She was initially unsure of who it was, but a shield being reflected on by the pale moonlight, and a hearty laugh soon confirmed her suspicions. She gasped and only to herself muttered Bucky’s name, picking herself up off the ground, running as fast as her feet could take her. 

“James! James!”

He turned his head from where he was talking to Colonel Phillips, immediately recognizing the voice as his wife’s. By the time he had noticed, she was already to him, so all he could do was welcome her with open arms. Literally.

She jumped into his arms, planting kisses all over his face. He laughed and laughed, Steve, and the Colonel, too, cracking a smile at the two’s reunion. She pulled away momentarily, looking over his dirty face. She ran her fingertips over the scratches and gashes, still having a hard time believing that after all this time, even under all the grime and blood and sweat, it was truly him. 

“Sarge, it’s been awhile.” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Same to you, Mrs. Barnes. Too long.” He commented, leaning forward and burying himself in her neck, allowing her to cradle him. He inhaled her perfume, taking the scent to memory for when he would inevitably have to go away once again, leaving her behind.

(So he thought.)

“That would be Agent Barnes to you.”

Bucky saluted, nodding and throwing a wink in her direction, before leaning in and planting a firm kiss to her lips that now only had remnants of red left around the edges from when she had applied it earlier on in the day. Their voices were now reduced to raspy whispers, both of them completely out of breath.

“Well either way, I’ve missed you greatly, Agent Barnes.”

“I’m glad we feel the same way.”

The two of them also felt extremely tired, leaving them to fall asleep that night packed side by side on a small cot in the corner of Steve’s tent. The brown sheets were horribly scratchy, and they had to mainly rely on each others bodies for heat. But despite this, all felt well, as if this new normal was finally worth it. 

-

In the morning, Steve had wanted to let the pair sleep in as long as humanly possible. The sun rising was one thing the great Captain America couldn't prevent, though. So as yellow light began to stream through the barely there material of their temporary home, the Barnes’ were given a somewhat pleasant awakening. 

Birds sang, bugs hummed, and the loud voices of Steve and Bucky’s soldiers could be heard, along with Steve occasionally hushing them if they came too close to their tent, still trying to preserve their well deserved rest. 

The thought made her smile, eyes slowly coming to an open. Bucky’s hand grew tighter on her waist, running circles on the silky fabric by her hip. Hers delicately made its way to brush messy brown locks from James’ closed eyes, the feeling comparable to a feather tickling the bridge of his nose. 

He scrunched it, blinking a few times, before commiting the view of waking up to the face of his wife for the first time to his memory, locked away to where Hydra would hopefully never take it. 

“Good morning, Agent Barnes.”

She shook her head, snuggling further into his chest and stretching her arms. “Mmmhm, not right now.” He placed a confused hand on her back, tracing a line up and down.“I thought it was only Agent Barnes?”

“Not in bed, James.”She looked up, smiling ear to ear. “Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.”

It was quiet in the tent, then. But always the one to break the silence, Bucky began to speak, his morning voice so incredibly low that it sent a shiver down her spine. 

“I mean, being my wife is a job in itself.”

They laughed, she shook her head and whacked his chest.

“Right you are.”

She stood up out of bed, shifting her hair to one shoulder with her hand. The glass on the face of her small watch reflected onto the walls, painting a rainbow stripe of light above Bucky’s head. She moved about, her babydoll pink colored slip moving along with her, almost as a toga would flow behind a goddess in the wind. James watched in amazement from his position propped up on his elbows, complete and total awe evident in his heart eyes for his wife. 

God, how he loved to say that, and hear it roll off of his tongue. Just to think it, even.

His wife.

He truly was a lucky man. And as she felt holes being stared into her back, she turned and giggled at Bucky’s antics.

“Now, I know your mother taught a gentleman such as yourself that ogling at women is rude, hmm?” She questioned, throwing the discarded slip at Bucky’s peeping eyes, then pulling on her uniform and beginning to fix her hair and makeup. Fingers moved quickly and expertly as she went about, her red nails almost appearing to move so quickly they were blurring.

He scoffed, forcing his nimble fingers through his knotted hair that could have been comparable to the nest that the very birds that played a hand in awakening them had resided in.

“Even if that woman is my very beautiful wife who I haven’t seen since I went away for war?”

He looked up, eyes bluer than Bing Cosby’s. (Sure, she had only seen them in the magazines, but hey, they seemed quite nice.) She finished putting on her lipstick, walking over and placing a hand under his chin. He looked up in a dreamy haze, basically begging for her lips to be placed on his.

She rolled her eyes and placed a long and sweet kiss upon his plump lips, restoring some of the color that sleep had stolen from them. She giggled at the lipstick left on his ivory skin, wetting her thumb and smudging it in a poor attempt to remove it. He cocked his head like some sort of puppy, slimming his eyes in an amused confusion.

“I guess that’s an exception.”

She leaned forward, leaving a short peck on his forehead, before ruffling his hair and making her way out of the tent. She briefly stopped hanging onto the post that acted as a door of sorts.

“Also, brush your teeth and hair, James. You stink.”

They smiled goofily at each other and she bit her lip, bidding him goodbye. And with that, she was off.

It was later in the day, now, and Bucky, Steve, and the rest of the commandos were in with the Colonel, discussing an upcoming mission. Peggy and Agent Barnes were decoding some of the Hydra messages the commandos had gathered on their previous mission in their general vicinity at the same time.

The paper was yellowed and stiff under her fingers, her eyes could barely stay focused on the multiple symbols in front of her, practically jumping off the page, vibrating at a high frequency.

She briefly closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to free her mind of the distraction that was her husband and honorary little (not so much now physically, but still) brother planning what sounded like an incredibly dangerous mission.

It was like a buzzing in her ear, the mention of capturing one of Hydra’s most valued scientists, and risking their lives in the process. And of course, he often did do just that, risking his life.

But call it wife's intuition, (Is that a thing? She isn’t sure) but she had a horrible feeling about it in the pit of her stomach. Something was telling her she should hug him a little tighter, kiss him a little harder, that kind of thing. And perhaps it could be discarded as the paranoia that had spread through many spouses as the war had started up, in fact, she wished it was.

Too lost in her own thoughts, it took Bucky’s hand on her shoulder to wake her from her trance. He began to quietly and cautiously speak her name in his position.

She turned, jumping ever so slightly. 

“Doll, you alright? Colonel was calling your name, you seemed real out of it.” He placed a hand on her forehead, then to her cheek, checking for any signs of a possible fever.

She didn’t reply to his concerns, only setting her hand utop his, leaning into him and closing her eyes. She opened them only moments later to see James squinting, his glance serious. He was quiet as he spoke, hesitating slightly. He muttered her name, trying to meet her eyes. He looked to see what was wrong, analyzing her, so badly wanting to fix whatever hurt there was lingering in her heart.

They stayed in that position for a while, the rest of the office seemingly standing still. She was the first to remove her hand, Bucky’s following suite.

“There’s a mission, in the Alps. Colonel wants you to come with the commandos and I, Peggy’s to stay here and work coms. He said something ‘bout needing someone who can sneak into places they shouldn’t be.” He chuckled, the sound bringing slight reassurance to her worrying mind.

“I’ll brief you tonight.”

She nodded, looking to her feet and whispering a quiet “okay”. They exchanged I love you’s, and then all that was heard was the faint clicking of James’ boots as he left her standing.

-

March 2nd, 1945

It was downright freezing in the Swiss forest.

And It would have been unbearable, if it weren’t for the fact she had Bucky to keep her warm, the man acting as a living furnace despite the frigid temperatures. The trek to do recom on the train they were intercepting was treacherous, feet ached, fingers were frosted, and the group spent much of their time (minus Steve, he had done enough of that when he was a sickly 90 pound asmatic) complaining to Mrs. Barnes, much to her dismay.

Usually, she would tell them off with a shake of her head or a slap to the arm, discarding their whines are nonsense.

In return for putting up with said nonsense, the commandos took her under their wing, so to say.

They never treated her differently than the rest of the group (or else she would have probably made her displeasure known, which both James and Steven warned them heavily against). Sharing the scotch, poking fun. In fact, if it weren’t for the nature of their escapade, she would have gone as far to say that she was having fun.

The only exception to this treatment was if she had to change, oftentimes borrowing a henley of Bucky’s or a pair of his trousers, the extra fabric heating her up quite nicely. Bucky would stand in front of whatever tree trunk she was hiding behind, watching to make sure no wandering eyes made any shameful attempts to catch a glimpse.

But overall, they worked well together, and were beginning to grow into a family, not that any of them would admit it.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re the chances this goes horribly wrong?”

He looked to his right to meet her eyes, wrapping an arm around his wife. They both turned back to the landscape of mountains, which were ironically quite beautiful. They were greeted with howling wind biting their noses and cheeks, causing her to let out a yelp, turning her head and tucking into Bucky’s arm briefly. He smiled and stroked the top of her messily tied back hair, allowing her to momentarily find comfort within his hold for what they didn't know would be the last time.

“With me? Nah, We’ll be alright. Zero to none.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at his cocky behavior as she always would, his smirk settling her nerves.

“Yeah.” She exhaled. “We’ll be alright.”

-

March 4th, 1945

The brick remains of the pub were dimly lit by the lone street lamp standing bravely on the cobblestone, illuminating the puffy faces of the two sitting inside. Steve, stone cold sober, and Agent Barnes, drunk and with tears streaming down her flushed skin. The dust had barely settled; it could still be felt, burning her nostrils.

She heard heels, a telltale sign that Peggy had arrived, sorting through the rubble.

She had approached calmly, observing the situation. Steve muttered something about not being able to get drunk, earning some heartfelt speech from the other agent and a proclamation of a newfound fire for justice in Steve. But Peggy’s sorrowful glance soon became unreadable, then transitioning into one of anger and sympathy, however that was possible.

She tried calling the surviving Barnes’ name, voice stern. She snatched the bottle from her friends hand, noticing she had downed the whole thing.

She began some winded spiel, none of it processing, only a faint buzz in one ear out the other.

“I know you’re hurting, but James would have wanted you to pick yourself up, an-”

“He lied. You know that? The bastard lied.”

She wiped a singular tear from her left eye, staring blankly at the ring that still managed to shine even then, in what was close to total darkness in every sense.

“He said that we would be alright. That him and I would be okay. And then he went and you know what he did, Peg? He died.”

Steve looked up, and stood, walking to where she was across from him. 

He gently tugged her up and wordlessly pulled her into a hug.

She was stiff as a board at first but slowly melted into it, realizing that it felt nice to be cared for by him like she did all those years ago, the favor being returned when she most needed it.

“We’ll fix this, I promise.”

She closed her eyes tighter, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“I know.”

-

May 26th, 1945

“Steve, I’m not leaving you!”

“Go, grab the parachute and go, I’ll send your coordinates to Peggy! Both of us don’t have to die.”

“Steve, it’s alright.”

He met her eyes, water pooling in both of their orbs.

“I’ll be with him.” She forced a smile, taking hold of one of Steve’s gloved hands.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

The time was passing, they could hear the uncomfortable sloshing of the Arctic water below them, coming closer and closer. Jagged ice taunted them, glistening faintly in the light.

“Please, don’t do this to Peg.”

Steve had made his decision, as had she.

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

The sound was difficult to decipher at the command center, static intercepting the voices of the pair as they bargained with death. But it was clear enough in order for everyone to realize what was happening.

Heads were bowed, tears fell, and even the Colonel allowed a salty drop to roll down his weathered cheek.

Steve and Peggy conversed, while Barnes sat next to Steve, closing her eyes. She was content. She was finally going home.

“I’d hate to step on your-”

Then, the line went dead.

“See ya, Rogers.”

-

2011

“This guy is still alive!”

“And the girl?”

The other man only shook his head.

-

2013

Skye dragged her finger along the etchings on the gray stone, mentally reading the names of fallen soldiers and agents.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history can be traced on walls like this.”

Then she came upon something peculiar. Her finger lingered momentarily, the name on the plaque bringing back memories of when she was a young girl in school, learning about James Buchanan Barnes, one of two Howling Commandos to have died in the line of duty. The other, she couldn’t quite seem to remember.

“Huh. Bucky Barnes.” She looked a moment longer, reading the script underneath James’ name. 

“There was another Barnes?”

She turned to Agent Ward who was standing behind her, arms crossed and chin down.

“Yeah. They were married. Some say she put that plane in the water on purpose. That she could have left, but wanted to see him again after he died.

Puts it in perspective- What we do.”

-

2014

The lights in the exhibit were bright, too bright. Faces were plastered everywhere, familiar faces. The soldier felt lost without his handler, no direction whatsoever as he aimlessly wandered.

Aimlessly wandering, what a foreign concept. Not running from an enemy, or sneaking around, a shadow. Free to do whatever he pleases.

He saw his own reflection on a glass panel, information of who he supposedly was written next to it, about when he was born, when he had died. Videos playing on repeat of him and Steve nearby caught his attention, leading him to slowly make his way towards the shiny screen. He saw himself laugh, smiling with whoever this Steve guy was.

Then the screen switched to him and a girl.

In a slight contrast, the girl was the one laughing this time, her smile igniting something within the soldier, overwhelming him with a flurry of emotion and realization.

He panicked, turning to his left, only to see her again, standing next to him in a large mural. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

A voice began to speak, clouding his senses even more.

It spoke about Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers, how they were “inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.”

It continued, and his confusion grew even further. It mentioned a girl who had what he learned to be his last name.

Not a mother, or a sister, but a wife.

“They became the only Howling Commandos to give their lives in service of their country."

Her name rang in his head, over and over again. He was married, he had a wife.

Had.

He walked up to where her clothes were displayed under her portrait, reaching a tentative hand out and feeling the fabric, rough from time. He could remember doing that before, but the fabric was silkier, then. It was different as a whole. It was pink satin, and the wearer was his wife, he now could see.

He was in a tent, laying on a scratchy cot, the girl laying with him, in his arms.

“Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.” Her smile and laugh were heavenly, her voice like honey. Her touch was smooth and left a tingle in its wake, bringing peace to his bustling mind.

Then he was suddenly back in the museum, hand still planted firmly on the hem of the shirt.

“Excuse me? Sir? You can’t be touching that.”

The soldier turned, facing the scrawny worker. His glasses were too large, hair too short, and pants 2 sizes too big. He gulped, doing a double take from the mural of James Barnes (who last time he checked a history book, had his remains somewhere buried under piles of ice and snow in the mountains of the Alps) and the man in front of him, who matched the recently trending image his coworker showed him of the Winter Soldier, the assassin who had over two dozen kills under his belt.

And if this were a mission, the soldier would have killed the man, executed him without second thought.

But now, he had free will. He had a choice.

So he chose to mutter a low “sorry” under his breath, pulling his baseball cap further over his brow and exiting the facility as quickly as possible.

The worker quit that night.

-

2016

A feed began to play on the tiny screen that Tony, Steve, and Bucky were crowded around, no video, just black with a thin line, moving in accordance with the audio. The sound was choppy, like it had been modified.

Zemo’s beady eyes slanted, a cold smile growing on his bearded face.

“I’ll be with him.”

“What the hell is this?” James yelled the question aimed towards both Zemo and himself.

But Steve knew exactly what it was, knew that voice, knew the feeling of the cold water enveloping him as he did his best to keep her warm in her final moments, a final favor for both Bucky and his wife.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

It was quiet, the line stopped moving. 

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

“See ya, Rogers.”

The audio cut out.

“It’s her.” Bucky’s metal fist audibly clenched, his eyes darkening.

“You let her die, Steve.”

“Buck-”

“You killed her! I had a wife, and you let her die!”

Steve backed up, instinctively raising the shield from Bucky once more.

“That was her choice, Bucky.”

He was calm. Too calm.

“I don’t give a damn what her choice was, you should’ve pushed her out of that damn plane if you had to.”

“She wouldn’t have survived that fall, Buck, even with a parachute, she probably would have drowned, or gotten hypothermia or-”

“You don’t know that!”

Bucky rushed forward, anger infiltrating every fibre of his being. He threw a punch with his metal arm, a loud clang ringing out as it collided with the vibranium shield.

-

2024

“We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day”

The room was pitch black aside from the blinking light on the record player, letting Bucky know that power was still running through the wires of the machine, keeping the same song spinning, over, and over, and over again.

The same one that’s been playing for the past 2 months. Over, and over, and over again.

The door creaked, sending a stream of light cascading across Bucky’s ridden features from his place where he was sat staring blankly at her tags laying in his flesh hand. He had started wearing them when she insisted, just in case anything were to happen to her, she wanted him to have a physical reminder of her. He had refused to give her his own, not wanting to admit anything might go wrong to where she would need them.

What a joke.

Zola had recovered them from around his neck, later to be stored away and then found by Steve in 2015 during a Hydra base invasion. He had immediately recognized the name pressed onto the material, and assumed someone who was an undercover agent snagged them during the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., never thinking anything more of it.

“This isn’t healthy, man.” Sam spoke softly from the door, his hand never leaving the doorknob.

“When we got snapped away, I didn’t mind it.”

Sam opened the door even more, sliding in the slim crack, closing it behind him.

Bucky’s glance never faltered.

“I thought that maybe, I’d finally see her again. And, I know it was selfish-” He laughed dryly, meeting Sam’s warm eyes.

“But she wasn’t there. When I died, she wasn’t there.”

Sam’s arms were crossed, now, and he was unsure of how to proceed with the fragile shell of a man in front of him.

“Then everyone came back 5 years later, she still wasn’t there.” He chuckled once more, feeling over her name on the plates, tossing the chain over his head. It was quiet, the record stopped.

“And this sounds crazy, but I got to thinking, that she must still be alive-”

“You know she’s gone, Bucky.”

James stood up, walking over to Sam, a terrifying blaze set in his eyes. He was frantic, hands moving about the air, neck straining.

“She’s not, Hydra has her! I’m certain, just like they had me. What else would explain her not being there?”

“You’re in denial,”

“No, I’m not! She’s waiting for me! She’s waiting for me to come find her, Sam!” He yelled, every word louder than the last.

And Sam Wilson had enough. 

“Alright, that’s it.” He grabbed James by the wrist, taking his chances.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting some sense into you.”

More yelling and fighting ensued, all the way to the car, Bucky only ceasing his behavior upon realizing where they were heading. He was silent, then.

Getting out of the vehicle, they stepped onto freshly wet soil, green patches fading to a burnt orange, the rain a poor attempt at revival. They could hear their own footsteps all the way to their final destination, turmoil settling in.

“Why’d you take me here, Sam?”

It had started raining, the cold droplets making his hair stick to his forehead, and his tears invisible.

Mere inches before him sat two headstones, both fairly worn. The first, reading “Cap. Steven Grant Rogers, a true American hero. Loving brother, friend, and son.”

The second? Her.

Most of the words all blended together, it was clear Steve’s was the only one that had any regular visitors, willing to clean off any dirt or grime, or occasionally bring flowers (always red roses for Cap, as for his wife, he hoped that when it did happen, it was her favorites, lilies. He doubted it was, though). 

The only words that managed to stick out, at least to him, were “Barnes” and “loving wife”. He inhaled, capturing the scent of fresh rain and roses, grounding him. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, giving a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, but she’s gone, you know?”

He nodded, squatting down in an awkward position.

“Can I have a minute?”

Sam nodded, turning to go.

“‘Course, I’ll be in the car.”

Bucky waited until he could no longer see the outline of the shorter man, before taking the tags off from where they rested around his neck, positioning them utop the marble slab. He gathered a few weeds, messily shoving them into the vase, dirt and stray blades of grass falling all over the place. He tried to brush it off, only creating a sludge-like watery mixture.

He leaned forward, taking hold of the hard stone.

“I’m coming for you, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll find you.”

“Bucky?” Sam yelled from the car, confused at the extended amount of time his friend was taking.

James turned, yelling over his shoulder, “Coming!”

-

Once Bucky got back to the car, Sam reached over and patted his back, starting the engine.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?”

James only smiled, looking out behind him to where they all said was her final resting place, excitement for the future running through his veins.

“Yeah.” He said, sitting further back into the seat, closing his eyes. 

“I’ll be alright.”

·。·☆·。·。

hi!

disclaimer: (skip if u dont care) so i’ve had personal expiriences w alcoholism, and my pov has changed so much on the disease and as well as how to handle it w more empathy, and i just hope that is conveyed. my hope w my work is never to upset or offend anyone, and i hope u enjoyed. if u have a prob w anything, shoot me a message or ask to chat :)

go drink water, eat protein (if u can!) and take an electronics break. i love u, 

xx hj