#anyways here’s more fooling around in a pantry for some reason

[riotwritesthings]

Location Matters

WinterIron, E, 2.6k - PWP, semi-public sex, anal fingering, begging, dirty talk, edging, orgasm delay

Ayyy welcome to the first day of Smutober! Yes that’s right, I’m going with Smutober, Kinktober didn’t quite feel right when I’m much more focused on just writing smut than getting through a list of unique kinks. And I’m not following any prompt list at all, just my heart. And I have no idea how many fics I’ll actually be able to get out this month, I have been having a Bad Brain Time, as the kids say, but I’m gonna do what I can and it’s better than nothing right?! Anywho I’m here to break rules and write smut so lets get to it!!

~~~

“Please,” Tony sobs as he arches his back harder, fingers scrabbling at the shelves in front of him and he really can’t bring himself to care about the several packets of pasta that go tumbling to the ground.

Even if he didn’t consider dry pasta a terrible abomination, Tony has way better things to focus on anyways. Like the solid line of heat that is Bucky pressed in close against him, pinning Tony securely between Bucky’s broad chest and the corner of the shelves as two of Bucky’s calloused fingers slowly press into him.

Tony knows they’re being more than a little ridiculous. They are grown adults with their own bedroom, but here they are in the common kitchen of the compound, barely hidden away in the walk-in pantry with Bucky’s hand shoved down his pants like horny teenagers. He can feel Bucky’s cock nudging hard and thick against the back of his thigh and Tony is well on his way to fully hard himself, rocking back against Bucky’s hand and trying to force him to move faster.

“Fuck, I- you- I need—“ Tony gasps out, voice breaking off into a moan when Bucky’s fingers press a little deeper. His grip on the shelves slips again as he can’t decide between turning to face Bucky or just trying to force himself back onto Bucky’s fingers, trying to get more, and Tony ends up just kind of twitching and thrashing in place.

“Patience, baby,” Bucky rumbles, his lips moving over the skin beneath Tony’s ear and that’s probably Tony’s least favorite thing to hear but oh he loves the way Bucky says it, low and rumbling and burning with intensity.

Bucky shifts his wrist a little and it works Tony’s worn pajamas down a little lower past the curve of his ass, but not enough to free his cock from the clinging fabric. When Tony rocks his hips in place, trying get any friction, or Bucky’s fingers pressing into him deeper, or anything, all he gets is the faint drag of soft flannel over his leaking cock. Tony lets out a desperate groan and tries to buck his hips harder, but Bucky just moves with him, not letting Tony have more than the not-enough stretch of two of Bucky’s fingertips barely working him open. Which, after Bucky thoroughly fucked him into the couch earlier today, it’s not nearly enough.

“What do you mean patience, we are in the kitchen,” Tony finally manages to get out, and his voice might be rough and breathy but he still thinks it’s a decent point.

Sure, it was some ungodly hour of the morning when they finished their latest Star Trek binge and first stumbled down here looking for snacks, but Tony has honestly lost track of time entirely at this point. He has no idea how long it’s been since Bucky kicked the pantry door shut behind them and crowded Tony up against the shelves and or all he knows the damn early birds in the house will be along any second, yanking the door open looking for the pancake mix or something and getting a whole-ass eyeful. Literally.

But in the next second all thought is pushed from Tony’s mind when Bucky’s fingers finally press deeper, nudging over his prostate as they twist inside him. Tony had more good points to make, he swears he did, but he forgets all of them as Bucky begins to finger him in earnest, pressing kisses to Tony’s throat and mouthing filthy paise into his skin, bringing Tony right up to the edge with the almost brutal efficiency that he’s basically perfected.

“’S this what you wanted, baby? Want me to really work you open, make you feel it?” Bucky demands roughly, his lips sliding up to Tony’s jaw and all Tony can manage is a shaking whine, trying desperately to shove himself back onto Bucky’s fingers. “Yeah, always take it so fuckin’ sweet, feel so perfect wrapped around me, clenching an’ shakin’, still tryin’ to fuck yourself back on my fingers even when you can’t barely move.”

As if to prove his point Bucky presses Tony in harder against the shelves, pinning him in place as every twist and thrust of Bucky’s fingers set off new shockwaves of pleasure through Tony’s whole body, pushing him higher. Bucky alternates between deep thrusts that make Tony ache for more and relentless jabs to his prostate that are driving Tony out of his mind.

“Please, please,” Tony begs, shaking as Bucky’s fingers stroke over his prostate again, tension winding tighter in his gut and he’s so close. He’s sobbing out every breath as Bucky’s fingers bear down harder and Tony clenches around them, arching back into the pressure as his balls draw up tight and the knot of pleasure inside him twists tighter, tighter—

And then Bucky’s fingers disappear, withdrawing from him entirely and Tony is left dangling right at the edge without anything to push him over, clenching around nothing and feeling so empty. He can’t even rock his hips in place for the light drag of his pajamas over his cock, Bucky’s free hand tight on his hip to hold him in place and it only accentuates the waves of pleasure still sparking along Tony’s nerves, not quite enough.

“What the fuck,” Tony groans, “you hate me, you hate me and you want me to die like this, is that it?!”

“Tha’s what you always say when I try to take my time with you,” Bucky points out with a low, rumbling laugh as he drags his fingers too-lightly over Tony’s loose hole.

“And I’m still convinced it’s true!” Tony replies, his voice caught somewhere between a snap and a whine. He has more to say, but he’s interrupted by Bucky pressing back into him with three fingers this time, stretching him that little bit wider and he’s so loose, so desperate, that there’s not even a burn. All Tony feels is the stretch of it as Bucky’s fingers sink all the way into him, until Tony can feel him everywhere.

Bucky’s fingers thrust in and out of him in an unsteady rhythm, working him up without ever giving him enough to push him to the edge again and Tony buries his face in his folded arms to try and muffle the sob that bursts out of him. His legs are doing nothing to support him at this point, it’s only Bucky’s hand on his hip and Bucky’s chest pressed flush against his shoulder blades and Bucky’s fingers buried deep inside him, holding him up and taking him apart.

He can’t think past the waves of pleasure that rush through him every time Bucky just barely nudges his prostate, the shudders that run through him when Bucky withdraws his fingers just enough to tug at his stretched rim, making sure Tony feels it. And just when Tony thinks the knot in his gut can’t wind any tighter, that he’s about to come with nothing more than the maddeningly inconsistent press and twist of Bucky’s thick fingers inside him, playing with him, the pressure abruptly disappears and leaves him achingly empty.

“Oh, you absolute bastard,” Tony groans, thunking his head against the shelf in front of him and then sucking in a sharp breath when Bucky laughs roughly and drags his fingertips in light circles around Tony’s hole. “Would you just-“ Tony cuts off into a breathy whine when Bucky’s fingers just barely start to press into him again, trying to arch his back harder like he can force Bucky’s fingers back inside him despite the way Bucky has him thoroughly pinned in place, completely helpless as Bucky’s fingers continue dragging wetly around and around his clenching hole, until Tony’s every breath is coming out as a pleading whine.

When Bucky finally pushes his fingers back in he does it slowly, so slowly, making sure Tony can feel every shift and press, working him back right back to the edge with steady, inescapable thrusts of his fingers and then pushing him higher. Until Tony has no idea how he hasn’t already broken and he can’t even try to rock back into it anymore, can’t move, can only take it.

“Fuck, love the way you shake for me,” Bucky growls, all hot breath and teeth against the line of Tony’s throat as he crooks his fingers a little harder, and then has to crowd in against Tony a little more to help keep him upright as Tony’s legs give out entirely.

Tony’s legs might be useless noodles at this point but that doesn’t stop them from shaking with overstimulation, his hips jerking and twitching in place with every deep press of Bucky’s fingers. Tony’s entire body is shaking like he’s been hit with a live wire and he’s crying out every breath, his fingers going numb from how tightly he’s gripping the edge of the shelf.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this, blissed out an’ shaking’ with it, can barely even hold yourself up,” Bucky growls, pressing down harder on Tony’s prostate and Tony’s entire body jolts hard, his hands sliding off the shelf and his bare feet sliding against the floor.

After a second of scrambling Tony manages to cross his arms across the shelf, burying his face against his forearms to try and muffle his wail. Partially because he’s so close and fuck Tony might just die if they get interrupted before Bucky finally lets him cum, if it’s not soon, and also because he doesn’t want to miss the honestly filthy words spilling out of Bucky’s mouth.

“C’mon sugar, wanna feel you come on my fingers,” Bucky says, a low rumbling growl against the curve of Tony’s shoulder, “always clench down so damn tight around me, sound so gorgeous, wanna hear you sobbin’ for me.” He thrusts his fingers in hard again and then twists, stretching Tony’s loose rim a little more and even that is enough to have Tony’s entire body jolting, another ragged cry tearing out of him. “Fuckin’ love this, don’t you baby?” Bucky demands roughly, “bein’ worked open and stuffed full? Pinned and helpless an’ just takin it, lettin’ me play with you however I want until you’re beggin’ for it just- like- this?”

The final couple words are punctuated with a too-brief drag of Bucky’s fingertips over his prostate, sending bolts of pleasure through him that are right on the edge of too-much and god it’s not enough. Tony is only vaguely aware that he’s trying to beg, but keeping track of the broken attempts at words and ragged sounds spilling past his slack lips is far less important than the sensations rushing through him.

Tony would much rather focus on trying to shove himself back to meet the press of Bucky’s fingers, no matter how little he’s actually accomplishing, right up until Bucky presses in impossibly closer and Tony is left completely immobile. Bucky’s metal fingers disappear from his hip to instead tangle in his hair, yanking Tony’s head back with one hard tug and Tony has no hope of muffling or containing the loud cry that escapes him. All he knows is the deep, insistent press of Bucky inside him, the burning pleasure and ache as his spine is pulled into a sharp arch and Bucky’s fingers seem to press impossibly deeper.

“Fuck-“ Tony chokes out, panting brokenly for air and then whining when even that simple motion lights up his entire body, like he’s just one giant struck nerve and his face is wet with sweat or tears or both as he finally manages to gasp out “please—“

“I can feel how fucking close you are, sweet thing, how much you need it,” Bucky says, lips trailing up Tony’s neck and when Tony tries to wiggle in his hold, to rock himself down onto Bucky’s fingers, anything, Bucky’s teeth catch at the corner of his jaw to hold him in place. “Don’t you wanna come for me baby?” Bucky demands once Tony goes relatively still in his hold, hard tremors still running through him as Bucky’s fingers continue to thrust and press and twist inside him. “Don’t you wanna make a fuckin’ mess of yourself for me? Let me watch you wobble back to our room, legs still shaking’ and cum coolin’ on your skin, flushed and dazed and gorgeous, wanna let me lick you clean and put you to bed still sloppy and reekin’ like sex?”

“I- I- ahh—“ Tony wants to say that god does he want that, he’s so close, but every drag of Bucky’s fingers is melting every thought out of his head and Tony is nearly screaming out every exhale and he can’t stop, shaking too hard to properly fuck himself back onto Bucky’s hand and fuck he’s so close—

“C’mon Tony, give it to me,” Bucky snarls, rocking his hips against Tony and circling his fingers hard over Tony’s prostate and that’s it.

Tony’s loud cry cuts off as his voice breaks, and instead he’s left making hoarse, breathy noises as he comes, wave after wave of pleasure rushing over him, dragging him under. He can barely hear anything past his own pulse throbbing in his ears, his orgasm dragging on and on with every relentless shove of Bucky’s fingers still working into him until Tony’s brain finally whites out to the sound of his own hitching, wailing moan.

When Tony zones back in, both of Bucky’s arms are wound around his waist, holding him steady as Tony continues twitching with fading aftershocks. His pants are back in place, although the front of them is indeed a mess of his own cooling cum, and Tony has to forcibly remind himself why just falling asleep right here is a bad idea.

And it’s not because he can feel Bucky’s cock still pressed hard and warm against his hip, no matter how distracting of a realization that is.

“What time is it?” Tony asks roughly, because his mind might be a little (a lot) blown, and he really wants to do something about the way Bucky is rocking minutely against him while he lets Tony catch his breath, but not as much as Tony wants to not get another lecture about public indecency. It always makes him feel a little too much like he’s back in college.

There’s a tellingly long silence before Bucky clears his throat and says, “Uh… we should probably get back to our own room pretty soon.”

The hoarse, gravely sound of Bucky’s voice has heat valiantly trying to swell in Tony’s gut again, but Tony forces himself to focus on arguing “You should probably carry me back to our room, because what even are legs. I don’t think I have them, I certainly cannot feel them.”

Bucky laughs but seems all too happy to oblige in scooping Tony up off the ground, even if it is more in an up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes way than Tony would really prefer. He’s about to complain, but then Bucky’s hand settles over the curve of his ass and Tony decides he can live with it, and at least this will keep the rapidly cooling cum soaked through the front of his pajamas from rubbing against his skin.

It’s not until they’re in the elevator that Tony’s brain comes back online enough for him to remember all of Bucky’s filthy promises, and Tony grins at the small of Bucky’s back as he says, “I guess if you really want I’ll try wobbling around like a drunken baby giraffe when we reach our floor, but frankly I’m more invested in the ‘licking’ part of your plan.”

Bucky hums, equal parts amused and thoughtful, and Tony’s breath catches hard as Bucky shifts his grip a little, his fingers easily dipping between Tony’s cheeks through his thin pajamas.

[marvellovegalore]

Loving You

Chris Evans

Synopsis: Chris is over the moon, he's met you and life couldn't be better - you're all he's ever dreamed of and there's nothing you could do to ruin that.

Warning: explicit language, sexual content

No one in your industry would ever consider you difficult to work with, neither mean, arrogant, conniving or calculating. Most would go out of their way to praise you, proclaim their adoration for the movie star of dreams. On the other hand, your previous partners would. Ex-boyfriends that would bravely volunteer to be interviewed about your past relationship would recount their experiences with the same look as a shell-shocked soldier. If they could, they would gather in a support group for those left with deeply affecting, unresolved trauma - left by you.

You would deny it, if you could be bothered; or if the media had declared your heartbreaker ways to be of public interest. Which they are, but you’re largely untouchable therefore they're unreported. A Hollywood starlet, philanthropist, trend setter and tastemaker - alongside with being viewed largely as a sweetheart. Your childhood nannies coming in storming with adulations and saccharine recollections of a sweet and shy child. Friends that are more than happy to celebrate you on social media and fans who fill the internet with high production videos of you strutting on the streets and red carpets cement the idea that you are the moment, and you are loved.

To the world outside of the sphere of your ex-boyfriends, you were the most eligible bachelorette. There was no flaw in sight, no illusion to dispel or enchantment to break; you’re the real deal. Until you get bored, and you need to hurt someone. Because hurt people, hurt people. As the saying goes. There’s no need to go into that - just yet.

So, when Christopher saw you at the 2019 Vanity Fair Oscars after party, he fell head over heels. Your eyes cast a spell on him, and the enchantment was cast by the world’s master mage, you. You barely realised what you did, you were in no mood to flirt or truly fraternise. You were attempting to drown your sorrows of missing out on another Oscar win for the second time - in a mojito glass. You looked spectacular, possibly more than how you looked during the ceremony. But to Chris, your face of indignation looked like the angelic expression of a good second place loser with no hard feelings. He attempted to approach you, but too many people go into his way, they came with unprovoked film criticisms and pseudo interview responses that would get them into the academy board. All he wanted was to see your face up close and know how you spoke when you weren’t being regarded by a crowd of enraptured spectators.

He could see that you weren’t being left alone either, you hadn’t won the Oscar, but you are being treated as if you did. Your eyes bounce off of him every once in a while, but he couldn’t capture your attention - and then you left the party. You hardly made the French exit you were seeking. Stars old and young clamoured to say their goodbyes and kisses on your cheeks. You finally managed to escape. If Chris were to attempt to lie and say that he wasn’t disappointed, a blind woman could have seen right through him. His heart dropped, and he couldn’t explain why - he didn’t even know you.

Some other actor friends managed to drag him to a more intimate after party, the setting hardly intimate. A compound nestled in Hidden Hills, twenty-four-hour security circling the property, of one starlet who presented herself at the beginning of the night but chose an early slumber rather than socialising.

You came in half an hour after him, a miniskirt showing off your incredible legs - which were insured for an absurd amount.

His breath caught in his mouth. You were dressed down, but you looked too incredible to even try and claim you didn’t try. Everyone’s head turned and everyone was captured by the beauty at the door, accompanied by a friend. Your demure appearance fooling everyone into thinking that the attention was unwanted. You grabbed yourself a drink and half an hour later you were still enveloped with a group of equally intoxicated friends.

Though, Chris was determined to get your attention. He grabbed a drink off of the barman and slowly and easily made his way to you. The word ‘chill’ being chanted over and over again in his head. He was dead set on not making a fool of himself. Three steps away from you, glass of mojito clutched in his hands, his anxiety being beaten down and desperately suffocated into his stomach and away from his brain. He goes over his words, and before he finishes walking to you, you turn suddenly.

Your eyes pierce into his, a smirk glossing your lips. “Hi.” Your voice is low, characteristically different from your stage voice - your accent just as strong.

“Hey, got this for you.” Chris thrusts the glass into your unexpectant hand, some of the drink splashing out over the frosted rim. “Hope, it’s not too presumptive of me to have gotten it for you?” His eyes have glossed over, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. You shake your head no, a sweet smile playing at your lips. He’s even easier on the eyes much closer up. “Sorry you didn’t win that Oscar, real shame, I was rooting for you!”

You store it in the back of your mind that this man manages to look like a golden retriever even when he’s several drinks down, “It’s nothing, what does it mean anyway, I’ll still get more jobs in the future.” You take a sip of your drink after he takes a sip of his.

He compliments your eyes, your complexion and goes on an eager rant of how much he admires your capacity for acting. You drink in the adoration diluted by alcohol and take his words with a pinch of salt. After twenty minutes of solid, drunken conversation you’ve moved to a nook shadowed by statues. Your legs next to his on the red velvet sofa. You remark on the class of the artistic statues, clearly purchased illegally from a Mediterranean museum. He barely takes in your words, much preferring to intoxicate himself with the sight of you - and his fifth beer.

You’ve decided that you want him. Badly. But you’ve sussed him out. He’s not just going to be a one-night stand - in the animal kingdom he’s a Golden Retriever, and those aren’t dogs to be messed with. Your last fling was essentially a Doberman pinscher - discardable - but this Chris had to reeled in slowly.

You interrupt his musing about the Boston markets with a kiss.

Your lips smoothly capture his, your lipstick smearing over his lips. His hand presses tightly on the small of your back, arm underneath your waist holding you up higher. Stars explode inside your eyelids and his fingers grip tightly onto your shirt as your tongue licks his bottom lip. Your entry is granted, you lips pressing tighter against each other. Your eyelashes dance over his. Your hands rise to his face, your hands imprinting themselves onto his cheekbones. His hand brushes over the bare skin of your leg, his fingertips tracing the insides of your thighs. A small moan rises from the back of his throat.

The hold you have on him is cemented, you part away from him. You untangle yourself from him and stand up from the sofa, your eyes refusing to look at him, you smooth your clothes and slowly strut away from him.

Chris looks at the fire that you’ve set on his limbs in disbelief, he doesn’t grasp what you’ve just done. Did he do something wrong? Does he smell? No. You just didn’t care for the ceremony of the first ‘after-kiss’ moments.

He doesn’t see you for a year.

You truly are elusive - to the media and him.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind, and the fact that you starred in another award-nominated film did little to help him forget you.

You were curious to understand whether you really enticed him or not. You decided to not pursue that line of questioning, and never bothered to reply to his direct messages. It wasn’t done with the intent of hurting him, you just didn’t care. But life has a way of putting things in your way that deep down you didn’t know you wanted.

--

Nevertheless, here you are, with your boyfriend of a year - Christopher, sat across from you telling you story about his nephew. You simper, your eyes flitting between the sight of him and the view of the sea. The coast of Martha’s Vineyard enraptures you, you drink your wine, eyes steadily moving to the coastal view.

You grew up coming here. Your family often choosing the quiet island to rest in during the late spring holidays. You brought Chris back here to stay at your family holiday home as it’s not too far from his own family home, a perfect last stop after spending the week with his family.

He watches you curiously, his blue irises begging you to let him in to your thoughts. You refuse silently and beckon the waiter. You ask for the bill, it’s quickly on the table and you pay - ignoring Chris’ refusals. You smile at him, for the second time during dinner. He responds in kind, remarking on your bad mood and how he’s glad you’ve cheered up after having some food. He muses on the lovely weekend you’ve had together as you leave the restaurant. Candlelight following you as you make your exit with your hands holding each other tightly, his other hand in his preppy shorts.

You walk slowly, watching the sunset. His arm finding its way around your shoulders. His sweet and intimate embrace enveloping you in warmth. Your heart beats quickly against his bicep as you near your home. Your hands tremble for some reason and you practically sprint up the porch steps after you’ve crossed the gate and walkway, leaving Chris five steps behind you.

You open the door and make a quick beeline for the kitchen in the far back of the house. You enter the pantry, ignoring Chris’ questions of what is wrong. You take a bottle of Rosé out of the wine fridge and forgo pouring it into a glass and drink it straight from the bottle. It tastes incredibly sweet, and Chris finds you eventually in the pantry. He looks at you in surprise as you gulp the drink.

“Everything okay, baby?” He walks to you, his hands failing onto your hips, his adoring eyes almost boring into your soul. You refuse him entry into the pits of your emotions. Steeling yourself against the onslaught of therapy-like talk.

You don’t want him to know that hurt people, hurt people. And that you’re one of them.

You kiss him, silencing his calming words.

His fingers tighten on your sundress. The colour melding with the colour of his fingers. Your lips become one.

You go through the steps of getting out of the pantry in a seemingly choreographed dance, your dance ends in the smaller reception room; your bodies tangling themselves on the rug. Neither of you giving a care to fact that you’re undressing in front of the window overlooking the pool and coast.

The flickers of the setting sun’s rays highlight his now bare chest. He returns his lips to yours in a hypnotising kiss. Your hands dance with the muscles of his back as you caress his skin, his torso vibrating in between your legs with the fervour of his movements. Your dress is ripped off your body. He directs his attention to your right breast, his soft lips caressing your skin. His tongue lashes slowly against your nipple, you fight to hold back your moans as his hand lowers to your pussy. His fingers pushing aside your pants, his fingers sink into you like it’s their second nature. Your head rolls back as he makes love to you with his fingers and his lips lower down to where his fingers are. He licks you where you need him most, his love for you being written inside you with his tongue.

You orgasm. Slowly.

And all that runs through your mind is how much you’ll miss him.

You pull him up to you, you turn over and straddle him. Tasting yourself on his lips as the sun sets even lower. The waves crash against the shore violently as the wind picks up. You lower yourself onto him and start riding him, your hips bucking in an impassioned manner against his. He doesn’t hold back his moans as he caresses your breasts and stomach.

You realised you loved him four months ago, but every time you catch sight of his loving eyes when you’re fucking, it makes you fall in love all over again.

Chris switches and puts you on all fours, he grips your hair in his hands, the rising intensity making him grip you harder. His thrusts are merciless, his spare hand spanking you and stroking, you’re on the cusp of a sensory overload when he turns you over. On your back you have the most beautiful view. A strong ray of sunlight brightening his eyes as he makes love to you. His kisses are tender but intense. His hand grips onto yours, your fingers intertwined and his other hand griping onto your face.

A tear slips out of your eye, you wipe it away quickly. Your increased sensitivity makes the second orgasm come, Chris fucks you through your breathy moans and you throw your head back. Momentarily blinded by the bliss; the pink sky wakes up from the saccharine, cloudy state. Chris orgasms into you with four thrusts.

You push away from him and stand up; you pull on your silky pants. You sigh and leave Chris on laying breathless on the rug. You walk upstairs and enter your room. You use the toilet, wash your hands, have a glass of water and throw on a short black dress. As you pull on your boots Chris enters the room, a smile gracing his lips.

He pulls on some shorts, “Want to tell me what all that was about?” He gives you a confused expression as he lies back against the bed, taking one of the fluffed pillows from behind him and tucking it between his chest and arms.

Hurt people, hurt people.

You turn towards him, facing away from your walk-in closet. “When we fuck, I have to think about other men to get through it.”

His eyes widen alarmingly, he turns to you, the light of the tv making him blue. “Say that again?” The disbelief is almost tangible in his words.

“I feel embarrassed about being seen with you now. I feel I’m just too good for you.” You walk into the closet and you hear him stomp off the bed.

“No, rewind to what you first said.” His voice is louder, his features twisted with confusion and hurt.

“I have to think of other guys to get off,” your eyes connect with his, you don’t look away, you fight the smirk biting at your lips. “I can’t stand the thought of being with you any longer. I’m sick of it.” You grab the suitcase that was packed for you when you were at the restaurant. “Also, you’re not as ripped as you were when we met, there’s other guys that can provide that image for me.”

“Take it back.” The hurt he’s feeling is completely tangible now. “Take it back right now. Right. Now.” His eyes are pleading with you to have mercy.

You've decided that you've gone past the point of no return. “I’d be happy never have to see you or have to hear from you - ever again.” You scan his eyes, your heart swelling with an eerie feeling of pride as his eyes flood with held back tears.

“This must be some elaborate prank— “he chokes on his words, his hands reach for yours, but you step back.

“This year has been tedious, completely boring and I’ve gotten nothing but only ten decent fucks from you.” Not true, and both of you can attest to that, you've had the best sex, your mutual adoration is clear when you make love. So, Chris is at a loss to understand how this is all being said and happening. “I’m off to New York, stay as long as you like or don’t. I don’t care. Have a nice life.” You slip past him.

Taking his heart and soul with you.

He can’t stop the tears from ballooning in his eyes and then trickling down his cheeks.

He must be stuck in a nightmare. He doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing in this closet filled with your clothes, your smell haunting him.

He rushes downstairs and there’s no sign of you. He stumbles outside and there’s no sign of you or your driver. He rushes in to get his phone and calls you. Five times. The sixth time it goes straight to voicemail.

He feels his heart break.

He falls right in the spot he’s in. He vomits his heart out, the pieces being spat out onto the wooden floors. The blood shinning underneath the soft lights of the lamps.

He wants death. Slow and steady death.

——

Part Deux -

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact. 

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication. 

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive. 

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.” 

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both." 

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours. 

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it. 

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night. 

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you. 

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood. 

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you. 

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey. 

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.” 

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble. 

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek. 

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face. 

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” 

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.” 

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much. 

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends." 

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks. 

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises. 

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates!

[aseioh]

Of Cakes and Late Celebrations

Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be posted on Mother's day. But just like this fic, I got derailed and ended up being late. (picture taken from the internet)

It was Mother's day.

Or to be precise it will be Mother's day in 15 hours 25 minutes. It shouldn't be a problem for Alcina, she usually just buys something from the Duke to give to Mother Miranda.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not possible right now. The Duke was delayed with his routine arrival at the castle opening, something about a spooked horse and lycans trying to get a nibble.

Honestly she lost interest after the word delayed was spoken through the phone. How is she going to remedy this. The gift itself was one of the finest silk she was able to obtain, she was sure Mother would appreciate a new ritual robe.

This is bad. To show up without a gift on this special day. She was sure she would be made a mockery during the gathering. Whats worst was that fool Heisenberg would be the first to lead with his pathetic insults.

Just the thought made Alcina's blood boil.

”I should send Bela to switch that man's shampoo with dog shampoo. Although the man still smells like wet dog. No. I'll think of something more devious.“

But back to the matter at hand. It's almost Mother's day and she doesn’t have a gift. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette, she considers her dwindling options.

At western part of the village

Donna is also facing a similar problems.

"What do you mean you're not coming?! Where am I supposed to find a present at this hour?!" Angie's raspy voice filtered through the phone "do you know how hard it is to find a 1st edition book on occult and rituals."

"Apologies Miss Angie, but the horse spooked and the carriage suffered a broken wheel. Even if the servants manage to haul themselves your house to the Duke's location and back it would still be too late." The main servant said trying to sound as apologetic as he can come across.

"This would not do" Donna said finally in her normal voice.

Somewhere inside the Stronghold.

Karl Heisenberg was having a meltdown.

"YOU STUPID LYCANS! I GAVE YOU ONE JOB AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN DO IT RIGHT!!" Heisenberg paces around the small assembly hall. Ten Lycans looked very apologetic, although it was very hard to tell from their looks. One even lets out a soft whimper.

“I told you to stall The Duke for a while. I didn’t said to derail him completely. The man has a package for me, now how am I supposed to get it!?” Heisenberg seethes.

His plan was a simply one really. Stall The Duke so that he would arrive at Castle Dimitrescu late, that way Alcina would not get her package and present it to Mother Miranda. That would show her, a little payback for calling him a child.

What he didn’t count on was the utter incapability of the Lycans to follow simple directions. Now even he doesn’t have a gift. Oh Miranda’s gonna blow a gasket.

“Augh... I hate the consequences of my actions” He lamented

 At Moreau’s Reservoir

“NOOOOOOO!! That’s not fair, that’s not fair!!!” Moreau starts throwing his stuff on the floor. He had finally saved up his money to buy Mother Miranda that nice jewelry that would go perfectly with her black wings.

“Someone’s gonna pay” He vows to take revenge on the Lycans responsible for his problem.

 After all his pet fish has been hungry for some Lycan meat.

 Castle Dimitrescu (13 hours until Mother’s day)

“I have gathered you here today for a very important meeting” Alcina starts looking at the sad (Donna) and tearful (Moreau) faces of her so called ‘siblings’. Heisenberg is surprisingly calm which puts Alcina on high alert, but lets it slide in favour of the more pressing matter

“We have a big problem. The Duke will not arrive on time for Mother’s Day. That means all the presents we bought for Mother will not arrive”

“We need a solution, any ideas?”  

“We kill the Lycans responsible and feed them to my fish”

“Yes Moreau, but that’s after we solve this problem” Donna said and tries to placate a Moreau by patting him at the back.

“Whoa, that’s a bit dark but I like it. And Moreau is right, we’re gonna make fish food out of those Lycans” “Better off those basdards, after all I don’t want to implicate myself” Heisenberg thinks

“People, you’re missing the point here” Alcina says pinching her nose to ward off an incoming headache. “Listen, we don’t have time. You know Mother Miranda, She’ll say she wasn’t really expecting something and then low-key punishes us for missing the day. We don’t want a repeat of the 1967 incident do we?”

Moreau whimpers from the trauma.

Donna goes into a slight trance and starts to shake.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough” Heisenberg stands. “Why don’t we just bake something and say it’s from all of us”

 *beat*

“Do you know how to bake?”

“I work at the Factory, I make steel molds for a living how hard could it be?”

“That doesn’t answer my question Heisenberg”

“We could make a small doll” Donna pipes up

“Sorry Donna that would still take time. And I don’t think we have the right materials on such short notice.” Alcina says

“For someone who’s looking for a solution you sure are shooting down all of them”

“Because it’s not feasible Heisenberg.” Alcina huffs “Can you gather all the materials in less than 10 hours? No? Of course not”

“And I keep telling you just BAKE A CAKE!”

“I don’t know how to bake, child! I’m a BLOODY COUNTESS not hired help” Alcina bellows at Heisenberg

“I know how to bake”

Everyone turns to Donna.

“Really?”

“Of course, I used to watch my Mother bake cakes before the accident. I just need help decorating. I never got a hang of that part” Donna beams with pride as she explains the basics of baking

“And we can gather the ingredients no problem. You have a pantry here somewhere right Alcina?” Moreau asked

“Of course. We always have a full pantry for the servants.” At that Heisenberg looks at Alcina with a hint of disbelief

“What? We need them healthy to serve us. I’m not a complete monster.” Alcina defends

“In any case we should start early. It takes time to cool and decorating is hard”

 Castle Kitchen (12 hours 30 minutes before Mother’s Day)

It was truly a sight to see. In a way it was enough for the Castle’s servants to wet themselves in fear when they saw the 4 Lords gathered at the kitchen in various forms of concentration. Needless to say, everyone was warned to steer clear of the kitchen for now.

Moreau was together with Donna supporting her with mixing the wet ingredients. Meanwhile, at the other side of the cooking station Alcina and Heisenberg are charge of measuring out the dry ingredients.

“You need to be precise, don’t put too much. Remember what Donna said and look at the damn recipe”

“I know what I’m doing you damn woman. I’m all about precision. Why don’t you move away and get that mixing bowl at the top shelf.” Heisenberg grouched

“I’m not your servant. And I certainly will not start fetching stuff for you” Alcina shot back

“Alcina, we need to work together. We don’t have time and you’re the tallest of us all. Please cooperate with Karl just this once. Please?” Donna implored

“Once. I’m helping him for this one time only. When I get my hands on the Lycan responsible for this problem, I’m gutting him and throwing him at Moreau’s reservoir.” At Donna’s admonishment of Alcina, Heisenberg gives a shit eating grin, showing some rather very pointy canines.

“And Heisenberg, stop provoking Alcina.” Donna adds

“Fine, you’re no fun Donna”

Suffice to say, the baking went well. Who knew that the 4 Lords working together would be a great success? If only Mother Miranda saw her children working together peacefully she might have had a heart attack and thought that she suffered one as well.

Or she might have been dreaming.

 Castle Kitchen (6 hours before Mother’s Day)

“Alright, the cake has cooled down completely, So what color will be the icing?” Donna asked

“Yellow” “Cream” “Light Blue” the other three said simultaneously.

 *beat*

“Light blue? Really? Not everything needs to be manly Heisenberg”

“And not everything needs to be boring like your color, Alcina”

“It should be yellow, like Mother’s sunny smile” Moreau explains

“And in which ever universe has Mother ever smiled like the sun?” Heisenberg counters Moreau

“Hey now. No need for that tone!”

“Tsk, sorry Moreau” Heisenberg apologizes to a quiet Moreau

“Fine, let’s do pastel yellow it’s easier for the eyes anyway” Donna supplies, getting ready to start coating the cake with the yellow cream

 Inside the Sanctuary

“Happy Mother’s day”

“We hope you like the cake Mother”

“Yes, we poured out our love in baking it. I hope you appreciate it” Heisenberg said

“Why thank you loves. This is a wonderful surprise. And Moreau said that you all worked together in baking it. How wonderful!” Mother Miranda said grateful for once that her children worked together without collateral damage (that she knew of).

“Although Heisenberg, I heard something interesting from Urias” Mother Miranda looks pointedly at Heisenberg, who for some reason starts to sweat and turn pale.

‘oh shit’ “Really Mother? Good news I hope” Heisenberg tries to bluff his way out.

“Why it was quite peculiar really. He said that you got 10 of his Lycans for a special project. I wasn’t aware that you have some side projects”

 The 3 Lords turn to Heisenberg

“Wait what?”

“I KNEW IT!!” Alcina unsheathes her claws

“You’re responsible for this mess in the first place!!”

“Really guy relax, if anything I just proved that we need more than one traveling merchant in the village for a successful and on time delivery” Heisenberg starts to carefully ease his way to the nearest exit.

 “GET HIM”

In the end, Alcina was more than ready to feed Heisenberg to Moreau’s pet fish. Only Donna stopped her, citing Moreau would probably be inconsolable if his pet got indigestion from all the metal.

And that is how Heisenberg saw himself in doggy jail for a week along with his Lycan cohorts. Mother Miranda did get her Mother’s day gifts from her children although a bit later than expected.

 And the cake?

 The cake was surprisingly delicious.

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 4 Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Taglist!: @vicmc624

Read Part 1; Masterlist

The icon that marked where you were currently typing in your text blinked as you bit your lip. Looking back from where you were sitting at the kitchen table, you took stock of the open pantry once again. You were low on just about everything. With physical therapy exhausting your shoulder, it was hard to find the energy to lift any heavy bags. You had texted Sam for help, but unfortunately he was out of state.

��Bucky’s home, just ask him to go with you. He won’t mind” He had texted back.

You slouched back into the chair and groaned. You had only seen him in passing since he had helped you with the furniture. What was he, your live-in-caretaker? Was he just there to help you up and down the stairs and help you across the street? Sliding onto the floor, you made a small grunt as you felt your back straighten out and adjust to the floor. Resting a moment, you held your phone up and stared at the blinking bar. You hadn’t texted him before. Should you just call him? Or knock on his door? Ugh, why was this so hard. Whatever.

“Hey Bucky, I’m having trouble carrying stuff right now. Would you mind helping me out with grocery shopping sometime today or tomorrow? If not, no worries.”

Without a second thought, you sent it and set your phone down next to you. It was around 1PM, the only thing you having done up until then was getting dressed while sipping on coffee. Opting for a lazy look, you had worn soft leggings with an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks. Two simple braids and a headband kept your hair out of the way for when you eventually practiced. Only a few more weeks until you practiced with the actual orchestra. You should probably figure out something to wear besides lounge clothes.

The buzz on the floor caught your attention and you took a peak at your home screen

1 New Message:

Bucky Barnes: Sure, is now good?

Shoot. You quickly got up and walked to the bathroom. Your hair wasn’t too messy. Why do you look so tired? Opting for some mascara, you texted Bucky back before digging around in your makeup bag.

Yeah, meet at my car in a minute?

---

Bucky pocketed his phone and took a quick look in the mirror. Should he shave? Scratching his beard, he made a face before deciding against. It would take him more than a minute. Why didn’t he just say thirty minutes from now? Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed a jacket and walked out of the apartment.

As he walked over the freshly fallen leaves in the driveway, he opted for leaning against your car. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his head to look out over the water. It had been quiet lately, just chilly enough to silence the summer chorus of buzzing and croaks. Now all that was left was the occasional honking of geese flying overhead.

He had only been there for a couple of minutes when you came out onto the porch. You had hastily thrown on some brown leather boots, the left one still untied. The little bit of mascara and lip gloss you put on made you feel better about not looking like death. It was nice to do a little something, even if it was just the grocery store.

“Hey!” you said, slightly breathless as you bounded down the stairs, keys jingling in your hand.

Bucky echoed your greeting back to you with a small smile and wave.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” You said, clicking the key fob to unlock the car.

“Oh it’s no problem. I didn’t really have much to do anyway.” He said, ducking his head to sit in the passenger side seat. He noticed how as soon as you closed the door, you clicked the locks shut. Then you brought your left heel up on the edge of the seat so that you could tie your shoe.

“Thanks so much. I really appreciate it. Usually, I don’t need too much help, but I need cases of waters and stuff like that. I was gonna get someone to help me at the grocery store but I realized I’d still be left in a lurch once I got home. I figured if you needed, we could just get groceries together this time,” you explained while double knotting the laces.

Starting the car and putting on your seatbelt, you looked behind you out of habit to make sure you weren’t going to hit anything as you backed out of the driveway.

“Huh. It looks like it’s going to rain.” You said, observing the darker clouds and the wind picking up. Putting the car in drive, you started down the driveway.

“Music?” You offered, gesturing towards the radio.

“I don’t really know what’s been playing these days… or for the last sixty years if I’m being honest.” At least it’s nice not to have to lie about it, Bucky thought.

“Well, we have a lot to catch you up on then.” You said, stopping at the end of the driveway and grabbing your phone. Scrolling through your music, you hit the bluetooth button on the console.

“This playlist has all my favorite classics on it. Feel free to skip anything you don’t like.” You said, handing him the phone and turning onto the road. The music started, prompting Bucky looked down at the phone. September- Earth, Wind & Fire.

---

Four songs later you were at the supermarket, grabbing a cart and discussing favorites.

“That last one was good too. Which one was that?” Bucky asked.

“That’s Stolen Away on 55th & 3rd. Dave Matthews Band. Now mind you, some of those are way older than others. The only thing they all have in common is that they’re all at least ten years old.”

“Huh.” He’s really missed out on a lot.

The two of you continued chatting as you went through the various sections. A couple cases of water. A bag of salad. Deli meats and cheeses. Bread. Ground beef. Pasta and pasta sauce. The topic turned to older music from Bucky’s time.

“I’m surprised you have heard of her.” He said, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, I’m going to be honest, the only reason I have any knowledge of it at all is because I had to take a lot of Music History classes in college. For whatever reason, they thought that to play music, you needed to know every which way that it’s evolved throughout the years. Though, I have to say,” you paused, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, I’m kind of glad I did.” You looked up at him slightly, face just a tad warm as he met your eyes. You both looked away and he coughed awkwardly. Feeling embarrassed, you scan the shelves of snacks before hearing him quietly say behind you-

“… I’m glad you did too. It’s different. And kind of nice to talk to someone about it. Who actually knows what I’m talking about.”

Trying to keep your smile small, you continued to look at the array of cookies on the shelf. A hand passed over your shoulder to take a pack of shortbread cookies.

“Hmm. Shortbreads.” You say, holding your arms behind your back. “Verrry interesting.”

“What?” He replied defensively.

“You can tell a lottttt about a man by his snack preferences.”

“Well, what do shortbreads say?” Bucky asked, leaning his forearms on the handle of the cart so that he was now eye level with you. It was too late this time to hide your smile. You turned back around to grab a pack of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

“If I tell you what they mean, you’ll just pick the kind that you think has the best traits. You’re not fooling me anytime soon.” You said with a laugh before you whisked yourself around the corner.

“Hey, that’s not fair, come back!” He pushed the cart around the corner where he ran into you hugging Sarah. The boys were with her and they went absolutely ballistic.

“Uncle Buck! Uncle Buck!” They shouted as they bombarded him.

“AJ! Cass! Stop acting crazy in the grocery store!” Sarah said, reprimanding them. You chuckled at the sight of Bucky being slowly overwhelmed by the two boys. He pried them off his legs and crouched so that he was eye level with them.

“Hey, I missed you guys. I haven’t seen you guys since the last time Uncle Sam and I came back-”

“-from fighting bad guys, right!” AJ said, getting a little too excited and causing Sarah to give him the look. Bucky tried not to laugh and held a finger up to his mouth to signal that they needed to be quiet.

“Yes, from fighting bad guys.”

You turned towards Sarah with a grin and put your hand on her arm.

“We’ll have to have all of you over, come see the new house. Will you text me a day next week when you, Sam, and the kids are free?”

“That sounds great. I’m so glad you got to move down here. I’ll let you know about next week!” Sarah said. She also walked around the cart and gave Bucky a hug. He returned it but glanced towards you nervously; You were already looking away. When they pulled away from each other, Sarah glanced in your direction and then at Bucky, a knowing smile on her face and eyebrows wiggling. Bucky made a face with wide eyes, letting her know to cut it out. Sarah laughed slightly while saying goodbye:

“It was good to see you, Buck.” Sarah said, laughing as she rolled the cart away, AJ and Cass in tow, who were both shouting goodbyes at Uncle Buck.

“Good to see you too…” He trailed off in her direction.

“Man, those boys really love Uncle Buck.” You said teasingly, making him jump slightly and turn around. You laughed and walked towards the next aisle, leaving Bucky red in the ears.

---

It was just starting to rain when you parked the car in the driveway. You grabbed some of the lighter bags and ran up the steps, hurrying to unlock the door. Bucky was piling on the grocery bags as the rain got heavier. He hauled everything inside as you held the door open for him. He lifted the groceries up onto the kitchen counter and made his way down the stairs again.

“Still have to get the cases of water.” He explained in response to your confused face. The rain was still getting heavier. Hauling the two jumbo cases onto his shoulder and carrying the last one by the plastic in his hand, he made his way up the porch, slower this time. You held the door open, looking incredulously again at how easy it was for him as he passed.

By the time he had set the waters down, you had grabbed a towel for him, extending it to him while looking away at from his drenched shirt.

“Thanks,” he said, toeing off his shoes and drying his hair with the towel before draping it over his shoulders.

“Please, let me make you some tea. You must be freezing.” You said, already digging through the pantry for some.

“Well, if you’re offering, I won’t say no.” He said, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

“Yeah, hold on, it’s kind of dark. Let me turn on the lights…” You trailed off as the light switch did nothing. Flicking it a few times back and forth, you sighed.

“I’m so sorry, the real estate agent told me it’s pretty easy to lose power in this area since there’s so many trees. They usually have it back on pretty quick though I’m told.” You said, now digging through another cabinet.

“It’s completely fine, you can’t control that. I’ll just take a raincheck-”

“Found it!” You said, cutting him off and proudly presenting the gas-powered single burner. You set it down in front of Bucky who watched as you also grabbed a tea light and a lighter from in the drawer.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You asked while lighting it.

---

Three more tea lights and a kettle of hot water later, Bucky was sitting with the towel draped over his shoulders, sipping on the warm cup of green tea. The flames created flickering shadows as you added the pasta to the pot of boiling water.

“I knew this was going to come in handy. I’m glad I saved it.” You said, setting a timer on your phone as you leaned on the counter across from Bucky.

“Why do you have it in the first place?” He asked curiously.

“I kind of had to hop around for a little bit before I got down here. I would stay in hotels but I didn’t want to eat out every night so this came in handy. Ole reliable.” You said, looking down at one of the tea lights.

There was a moment of silence before you pursed your lips.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, setting the cup down.

“Has Sam told you… how I ended up here?” You asked, now looking straight at him. The look on his face told you the answer before he could respond.

“I see…”

“Hey, I’m sorry, I-”

You held up a hand to cut him off, soft smile on your face.

“No, it’s okay. I told him that if it ever came up, he could talk about it. I’m pretty open about it. How much did he tell you?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the cup to absorb some of the warmth.

“Just the basics. You two were together, then he got… violent. And you trying to leave.” He said, looking down into his cup.

“Yeah, that just about covers it… He kept following me after I got out of the hospital so I had to get a rental car and hotel hop for a while… When I got the house down here, I finally got my actual car and just booked it here. He’s never been to Louisiana before and he doesn’t know that Sam lives here now, instead of DC. I’m hoping he’s frolicking in city traffic, getting run over as he looks for me. Bucky snorted and tried not to laugh, which made you laugh.

“Sorry, it’s not funny.” He said, covering his mouth.

“Oh, it totally is.” You said, talking in a way where he could tell that you were smiling.

You both laughed as you grabbed a strainer out of the pantry. Draining the pasta, you both settled into a comfortable silence.

“Well, I’m glad you can joke about it.” Bucky said, watching as you poured pasta sauce into the pot to warm it up before chucking the rest of the pasta in.

“Some days are better than others. I’m just happy that I can stop running. Still, I do get a bit paranoid sometimes. I feel like I’m going to turn a corner and he’ll be right there.” You said, rubbing your arms as if you were comforting yourself. At that moment, Bucky looked at you and noticed for the first time how truly tired you looked. Dark circles underneath a sleep deprived gaze. Eyes clouded by worry and paranoia. Bucky’s seen that look on himself before. Before Steve found him in Bucharest, before he could trust his own mind. When he had to avoid being recognized, avoid being found, avoid falling back into Hydra’s grasp.

You exhaled as you uncrossed your arms, mixing the pot before sprinkling cheese on top. “Dinner’s all done.” Bucky sat peacefully, enjoying the aroma of the tomato and basil. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled before speaking up again.

“Well. I’m here now.”

“Hmm?” You called back, not quite hearing him over the clanking of the bowls you took out.

“I’m here now,” he repeated, this time with more confidence. “So… you don’t have to worry about it. If you ever get worried about it, just call me. Or text me… Or knock on the door… and I’ll talk to you or I’ll check it out, keep an eye on the house from the apartment, or just be in the house with you. It’s not a bother, if it’ll give you peace of mind. I’ve been through something… similar. With, uh, the whole Hydra… thing…” Bucky trailed off as you stared at him with a neutral face. He was getting ready to backpedal, hand reaching for the back of his neck out of nervous habit, until you spoke.

“You’d do that?” You said, face unchanged, eyes searching his.

“Yeah… Yeah, I would.”

You blinked a few times before looking aside and trying to clear the frog from your throat.

“I don’t even know what to say but thank you. That is such a big relief.” You said, voice wavering slightly, one hand coming up to touch your forehead out of relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Nobody should have to go through that alone.” Bucky said softly.

You touched his hand softly, giving it a gentle squeeze before stealing your own back. You turned around to grab a drink when you paused, looking out the window.

“It stopped raining.” You stated, watching as the little bit of sunlight brightened the colors of the changing leaves. Bucky, on the other hand, was watching how the little bit of sunlight brightened you. He rubbed his thumb against where your hand had just been, trying to recreate the feeling of your hand on his.

[sneezefiction]

can I request a hc with “I told you not to fall in love with me.” for akaashi? I enjoyed the sleepover writing so much!!! also,, can you turn it into an angst to fluff bc,,I cry easily and maybe a timeskip with the relationship? thank u 👁👅👁

Akaashi x reader - scenario

prompt: “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

a/n: i legit retyped this whole thing 3 times with different story lines each time lmao. no idea why i couldn’t decide on something ahh. i’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you were anticipating (couldn’t turn it into a hc, had to do a scenario,) but this is how i interpreted it! thank you so much for reading and requesting!! <3333 kind of an angst to fluff situation

warnings: suggests nsfw in the beginning

wc: 1710

---

A mistake.

It was a huge, thoughtless mistake.

I mean, what did you think would happen?

That one night with Akaashi would be easy to forget? That, after liking him for months, you would just stop caring? That your touch starved body would immediately go back to normal after having his hands all over you?

You still feel the ghost of his fingertips trailing over your skin… and you shiver.

“Don’t go falling in love with me.” He’d murmured, jokingly, his words followed by a light chuckle. 

You just joined him with a short, breathy laugh in response, splayed out on his bed, exhausted.

Oh, the irony.

---

It’s morning after, and a golden glow stirs you out of your sleep. The soreness in your legs and the unfamiliar scent of someone else’s home overwhelms your senses. You’re still in his bed, your body still intertwined with Akaashi’s. His eyebrows are furrowed, his breathing is steady. He’s still in a deep sleep.

So pretty… you think as you study his features.

It’s what you’ve wanted… just not under the right circumstance. Even though you know it’s probably a bad idea, you decide to not leave right away.

Instead, you resolve to fix breakfast for the two of you. Under the best of circumstances, you’ll chat. Maybe laugh a little?

Slipping out of his sheets, you carefully pull on a white tee shirt and shorts, making your way out of the room, try not to knock into anything.

The kitchen, now visible in the early morning daylight, is neat and tidy, nothing out of place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s efficient and it’s just so… him.

As you’re making pancakes and bacon (you found ingredients in the pantry and bacon in the fridge,) you hear soft footsteps.

“What... are you doing here?” He questions sleepily. The confusion is apparent on his face… he’d clearly expected you to run off right when you woke up.

“Oh, sorry… I just thought I’d make you breakfast. There’s coffee brewing right now.” You speak quietly, not wanting to reveal your embarrassment. 

Ah, that’s right… you weren’t supposed to be here. You overstepped an unspoken boundary.

He just hums, taking a seat at his kitchen table right across from where you’re cooking. He’d had his assumptions about you… he knew you had liked him in the past, but he hadn’t predicted the possibility of you staying throughout the morning. His foresight ended when last night began.

A mistake, now, on his part.

And he grew steadily more uncomfortable.

It’s not that he doesn’t want you around… but he hadn’t planned on you knowing him. He had boundaries for a reason. Standards and space to keep people away from him.

A habit he’d developed subconsciously throughout the years to protect himself.

Yet, you were still here. In his kitchen, at his house, with his number… making breakfast for him.

All this after a long night of exploration. Body-to-body contact. Physical interaction with someone, admittedly very beautiful, that he hasn’t had in a long time.

It’s too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure we’re on the same page right now…” He starts.

You turn around, realizing the conversation you’re about to have… isn’t going to be very fun.

“Y/n, I told you I’m not used to these things. Don’t get me wrong… you’re kind for making me breakfast and I genuinely enjoyed last night… but I didn’t sign up for a relationship.” He states bluntly, trying to combat the creeping feeling of guilt in his stomach.

There’s something else there too, but he can’t quite figure out what the emotion is.

Your eyes are getting a little teary, but you manage to hold back any tears of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry… I just, I don’t know, I thought maybe you would see me differently? I, uhm… I really like you. A lot.” You try to compose yourself, but your hands become shaky so you grab onto the countertop. 

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” He reminds you of his playful words from last night, but it sounds far more serious this time. “I don’t know what you were expecting from me, but I’m not interested in this continuing.” He tries to reason, noticing the redness appearing slowly on your face.

“I hate to break it to you, Akaashi, but that’s not exactly how emotions work. For most people at least.” You crack a small smile, but it won’t fool Akaashi… and it’s definitely not fooling you.

And a tear betrays you, slipping down your cheek to the tip of your chin, onto the floor below.

Once one leaves your eye, the others decide to follow. Your dove-white shirt now wet and covered in tear stains. 

How humiliating. Thinking that something as stupid as sleeping with Akaashi would produce some semblance of feelings in him. That somehow you would be adequate enough for him in one night that he could see some relationship with you in the future.

Yes, it was a huge mistake.

On both sides.

So you head home, leaving him in the wake of your emotions and him stuck in his thoughts, processing why he’d allowed this to happen.

The room feels empty without you in it.

Why is that? And why does he feel so bad about it? He didn’t do anything wrong. Or did he?

Why does he want to call you right now? Why does he suddenly need to explain himself? He has no reason to. You never asked him to…

He buries his head in his hands for a few minutes then decides on a shower. That should wash away whatever pit he’s feeling in his stomach right now.

But the feeling lingers.

And it chooses to nag at him for months, with no end in sight.

---

Time passed and college is more or less overtaking your life. The end of the semester leaves you overwhelmed and burnt out. So yeah, you’re contemplating, once again, why you went to college in the first place. 

However, without the distraction of school, you probably would still be ruminating on last semester’s heartbreaker of an issue.

The workload allowed you to let go of any hope for Akaashi returning feeling or reaching out.

Numbing something isn’t always the best way to get rid of your feelings, but you can’t help but think they wouldn’t have gone away without some mental diversion.

Your expectations were too high and it was best for you to burn that bridge. Or whatever was left to burn anyway.

But fate likes to play cruel tricks and you seem to be its target for the day.

As you leave your dorm, a wave of familiarity washes over you.

That smell… that cologne. It’s a sharp slap to the face.

You finally make it out of the thick, painful realization that Akaashi isn’t going to be a part of your life anymore… and your mind draws you right back in.

But it isn’t just the cologne. No.

The familiar features, physical and vocal, decided to rejoin you as well.

The universe had the audacity to place him on the walkway up to your dorm room.

You attempt to slink past him, turning your face hoping that he hadn’t already seen you, but you simply aren’t fast enough.

“It’s been a while, y/n.” He states.

Your heart drops and you slowly turn around, body stiff.

“Why are you here?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question. Oops.

“Well, maybe it’s because we go to the same school?” He chuckles, but straightens himself up.

“Yeah… well I’ve gotta run. I’m late for, um, things.” You reply, trying to get yourself out of an increasingly awkward situation.

Akaashi takes a step forward and gently, but firmly, grasps your jacket’s sleeve.

“Hold on.” He orders, then softens the command with a, “Please.”

“I actually came here to- ehem, apologize.” He looks you straight in the eye.

He seems genuine, his hurt translating through his eyes.

“You didn’t deserve what I did to you.” He admits, “I knew you’d liked me… and I- I was selfish.”

He reads your face, noting the look of exhausted grief in your expression.

In a way, he had used you. He knew you felt something for him… and inadvertently took advantage of it. Not wanting strings attached, not caring (in the moment) that it might hurt you, and not communicating his intentions.

“A friend of yours finally told me where you lived, so I ran over here to let you know that I am, truly, so sorry.”

Your eyes are misty again… why am I like this.

You give a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.

“Akaashi, it’s okay. It was a mistake. Things like this happen all the time.” You do your best to console the boy, the one who’s still gripping your jacket. Even though it’s really you who needs a hug right now.

“I’m gonna head-on, but I hope you feel better, okay? Don’t go overthinking things.” You tease, gently. It’s the best you can do.

But he doesn’t let go.

“I want to talk with you.” He states, this time with a tone of interest, not pleading. Asking.

“What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely confused. You feel yourself getting warm and it’s not the layers you’re wearing.

His unoccupied hand makes its way to the back of his head. “Like… on a date. Or just out somewhere.”

The directness shocks you. Why now? Why not then? Should you even trus-

“I understand if you don’t trust me. You’re right… that night was a mistake. But you aren’t.”

He’s flushed, but it’s crystal clear that he’s being honest. He let’s go of your jacket.

“I think I can trust you, y/n. I want to make it up to you… get to know you better. For the right reasons.”

You contemplate it, making him wait for a moment, allowing several, long seconds to pass.

Yes, he caused pain.

But there are two pieces to any problem. Person A and person B.

You’ve been given second chances all your life… from jobs, to relational mistakes, to breakups. Forgiveness is one of the most powerful forces. 

And you figure person B could use a second chance. 

“Then let’s start slow.” You decide and reach out a hand with a mischievous glint in your eyes, letting your humor shine through for a moment.

“Hi, I’m y/n.”

He reaches his own hand out to yours, but instead of shaking it, intertwines his fingers with yours, in a sense, sealing the deal.

“Hi, y/n, I’m Akaashi.” He reintroduces himself with a small, but glowing smile.

[moonlit-jeno]

love sick (m.)

chapter 10

pairing: nct dream ‘00 line + reader

chapter warnings: angst, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral

words: 3.1k

summary: It’s both the best option and your worst nightmare

masterlist | prev | next

This is by far the longest you’ve driven so far. You’re not sure whether you’ve actually been driving for a long time or if it just feels like you have been. Either way, it’s not fun.

Maybe it’s because it’s the first time you’ve realized that you’re never truly safe. Before, even if you didn’t think the houses were safe, you always had a plan B- get to the car as fast as possible. What could possibly be safer? It locks, it can move insanely fast, and it has heating. Perfect, right?

Except it clearly isn’t. Jisung had been ripped out of the car right in front of your eyes, shattering your perception of safety. That could have been any one of you guys. And it isn’t fair that it was Jisung. It isn’t fair that he got his life cut so short, and it makes you want to scream in frustration, but life has clearly shown that it doesn’t give a shit about what’s fair or not.

Every bump in the road has you jumping, every rock that hits the windshield has you holding your breath. It’s obvious that you’re not the only one feeling like this. 

And sure, the scene was horrific to watch, but you can’t even imagine how Chenle feels. Jisung was all he had for months, and to have him ripped away from him- you feel sick just thinking about it. He’s sobbing loudly, curled forward with his head pressed against the back of the seat in front of him. 

Jaemin’s doing pretty bad, too. Besides Chenle, he’d been the closest to Jisung. You’re sure he’s blaming himself right now, and you want to scream at him that it’s not his fault, but you know it won’t help. He won’t listen. And the silence in the car is suffocating- you’re sure Jeno would snap if you broke it.

He’s been driving with an iron grip on the wheel, his knuckles white from holding it too tightly. You pass countless houses, all of you too scared to stop at one of them in case you choose wrong. All of your previous choices have been good, but it only takes one wrong move to end it all. 

It’s unrealistic to believe that you can keep moving forever. Jeno’s eyelids are growing heavier by the second, and none of you know how to drive. There’s Jaemin, but he’s not exactly in the right headspace. The car slowly rolls to a stop outside of a massive gate. 

“Here?” You ask, craning your head to peer in. Jeno shrugs. “Why not?”

“How are we going to get in?” Donghyuck asks. “You’re insane if you think we can climb that.”

“There’s a call box. Maybe the house isn’t empty?” Jeno rolls down his window and reaches out to press the button. Led fills your stomach. It’s both the best option and your worst nightmare. There could be normal, human survivors in there willing to help you out. Or it could be filled with… not so human guests.

Jeno leaves his window down as he waits for someone to answer. Oxygen seems to escape you as you struggle to breathe, your chest tight with dread.

“Are you infected?” The voice is a little staticky, and your eyes widen as you realize what this means. There are people inside.

“No. We’re all healthy. We just need a place to stay for the night.” Jeno responds.

“How many of you are there?” 

Jeno pauses to count. “Five.”

There’s no response. Disheartened, Jeno reaches out to press the button again. You stop him with a hand on his forearm.

“Jen, look.” The gate is opening. Quickly, Jeno rolls up his window and takes his foot off the break, darting past the gate. You watch it close behind you .

You drive up the path slowly, keeping your eyes peeled for movement. A glance behind you reveals Donghyuck holding tightly onto Jaemin, his face buried in the younger boys neck. Jaemin stares blankly out the window with red-rimmed eyes.

The house- or really, mansion- sits at the end of the long driveway. Two guys come out of the door, both armed with guns. One of them holds his hand up.

Jeno slows to a stop and rolls his window back down. 

“Get out of the car.” They order. And while you’re not really in the position to argue, something doesn’t sit right with you.

“How do we know that you’re not infected?” You ask, making no move to leave the vehicle. Jeno already has his seatbelt off and he shoots you a look of what the fuck are you doing?

One of them is significantly taller than the other. He laughs. “We’re not infected. We’re not going to attack you, either, unless you give us a reason to.” It’s not a perfect answer, but it’s the best you’re going to get considering the circumstances. “Alright.” You all pile out of the car. Chenle still has tears streaming down his face but he holds his head as high as he can. Jeno throws an arm around the boy and squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m Lucas.” Says the tall one. He throws you a bright smile but keeps his gun trained on you. You smile back meekly. He nods at his friend. “That’s Winwin.” Winwin is considerably less friendly. He blinds you with a flashlight in each of your eyes and checks your wrists to make sure the veins aren’t black. When he’s satisfied, he pats you all down.

“Okay, they’re clean.” Winwin tells Lucas. To the rest of you, he says: “We still can’t let you guys in the main house, though. We have a side house where you can stay. Just until we’re positive you won’t kill us.”

You all exchange glances. It sounds pretty decent to you. They obviously have a pretty good protection system set up. Jeno looks to each of you before turning back to Winwin. “Okay.”

Their ‘side’ house is the same size as your actual house. If this is what they consider a side house, then you’re scared to see what they consider their main house.

It’s detached from the rest of the house, complete with its own kitchen. Winwin shows you around, before turning to leave. “We only keep non-perishables here. Lucas will come by a bit later and bring you, uh, fresher food.” Your jaw drops at the thought of fresh food, whatever that means. You’re assuming that he means fruits and vegetables, and the thought of a strawberry has your mouth watering. “Holy fuck.” Winwin laughs, and leaves with some final instructions to keep the windows and doors locked. Basic stuff. Chenle immediately heads for one of the bedrooms. You watch him go with a heavy heart, wishing you could do something to ease his pain. 

“Shit. I can’t believe they’re calling this a side house.” Donghyuck says. “What would they call my house- a closet?” You giggle, thankful that he’s trying to lighten the mood. Jeno snickers. “More like a pantry. Anyways, I’m wiped.” He turns to leave, giving you a tired smile. 

Donghyuck turns to follow him. “They probably have the thousand dollar mattresses. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of that.” 

That leaves you and Jaemin. Jaemin makes his way over to the living room, plopping down on the couch. You debate joining him, but you figure he needs his space. Those thousand dollar mattresses are calling your name.

It’s a few hours later, and you’re wide awake. You’d taken a nice nap- Donghyuck was right, the beds were nice- woken up by the delivery of fresh food. Lucas had laughed as you and Donghyuck salivated over the fruits and vegetables in the bag, along with- 

“Is that meat?” Donghyuck had looked up at the man with wide eyes. Lucas grinned.

“Yeah man, we raise chickens here. Enjoy.” He’d left with a wink. 

You, Jeno, and Donghyuck had torn through the food. Even Chenle had eaten a fair amount, smiling at the sight of green beans. Jaemin had eaten the small amount of food that Jeno had force fed him, and that was that.

Everyone went back to bed after dinner, leaving you alone and painfully awake. Jaemin’s still on the couch, staring off into space. You bite your lip before moving to join him.

“You alright?” Jaemin looks up when you sit down, offering you a tight smile. You hesitate for a moment before curling up against his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” His voice sounds strained and your heart aches for him. You want to do something that can make him feel better, want to take his pain away, but you don’t know how.

You take his hand in your own, giving it what you hope is a reassuring squeeze. Jaemin’s eyes lock on the action before raising to your face and you meet his strong gaze. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

His lips are on yours in the next second. It startles you, but Jaemin doesn’t give you any time to recover. The kiss is rough, his lips insistent against yours. It takes you a moment to process what’s happening.

Jaemin groans deeply when you kiss back, tilting his head to the side in an effort to deepen it. One hand moves up to cup your jaw, sliding backwards into your hair. A moan leaves you when he nips at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue.

He lets go of your hand in favor of sliding his hand up your thigh, grabbing at your ass in an effort to pull you closer. And he feels so good, you want to lose yourself to him so bad, but something’s off. His lips slide down to your neck and you gasp as his teeth scrape against you, open mouthed kisses pressed almost as an apology. “Jaemin,” You moan, arching against him. “Jaem, we shouldn’t.”

Your protests go unacknowledged, Jaemin continuing his attack on your neck. A part of you wants to give in, mind already clouding with lust, core throbbing with want. But there’s also guilt swimming in your gut and you reluctantly speak up again. “Jaemin, stop. It’s not right, you don’t- you don’t want this.”

His lips stop moving against your neck but he doesn’t move away from you, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. Jaemin doesn’t respond, just breathing heavily against you. You furrow your eyebrows until you realize that his shoulders are shaking, your skin damp. He’s crying.

“Oh, honey.” You wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back in what you hope is a soothing action. “Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Jaemin’s silent crying gives way to full on sobs and you hold him through it, tears filling your own eyes as you listen to him. He’s shaking against you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. It’s a little hard to breathe but it’s okay, it’s what he needs right now.

He finally pulls away with a shuddering breath, looking up at you with pain in his glassy eyes. “Please,”

The word is whispered, but his voice holds so much pain and desperation in it that your heart breaks all over again. “What do you need? Tell me what you need, Jaem, and I’ll do it?”

“Distract me. Take the pain away, even if it’s only for a little bit. Just- please.” There are still tears streaming down his cheeks, his voice shaky and choked. It’s not until he slides his hand back down to your ass, to your thigh, that you realize what he’s asking.

“No, Jaem, that’s- you’re not in the right mindset right now. It’s not what you want.” His eyes hold so much emotion and you nearly cave, just wanting to bring the sparkle back into his dull eyes. But you can’t do that to him, you can’t take advantage of him like this.

“It is what I want, y/n, I swear. I’ve wanted you for so long, but I need you now. Just take the pain away.” His sentence ends in a sob. “Distract me.”

You grapple with yourself for a minute, mind running a million miles a second. “Are you sure?”

A nod. “Please.”

Hesitantly, you nod. You don’t move, don’t lean forward, don’t try to do anything. You give him the room to make the first move, to let him change his mind.

He doesn’t. It’s back to the same desperation as earlier as soon as his lips press to yours. He bites at your lip and sucks on your tongue, hand gripping at your shirt as if to rip it off of you.

You stop him before he can, moving his hand lower to rest on your thigh. He immediately grips at the flesh, tugging you on top of him.

The sex isn’t gentle. It’s Jaemin fucking into you at a brutal pace. It’s Jaemin groaning as you tug at his hair and leave scratch marks on his shoulders. It’s Jaemin slapping your ass and demanding you ride him harder, faster. It’s rough and it’s raw, you and Jaemin clinging to each other for dear life.

Jaemin pushes you off of him, jerking himself quickly until he comes onto his stomach. You watch, chest heaving, core aching for some sort of contact. You were so close, but now your orgasm draws further and further away.

“You didn’t come.” Jaemin says after a moment. You consider lying, but he’s already scooting off the couch and onto the floor between your legs.

“No, Jaemin, it’s okay. You don’t have to.” You protest, wanting him to go take a nap and rest. Maybe you could force him to eat more than the meager portion he had earlier.

He looks up at you with dark eyes, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want to. Please let me do this.”

It’s messy how he eats you out, fucking his tongue rapidly into your hole, pulling away to wrap his lips around your clit. Every tug of his hair earns you a moan, the vibrations delicious against your sensitive core. Jaemin looks up at you the whole time, but the situation reminds you so much of Renjun that you have to tear your gaze away and throw your head back to avoid thinking about it.

Jaemin rests his head against your thigh after you’ve come, sighing happily as you play with his hair. You tug on the strands to get his attention. “Come on, let’s get you some food.” He allows you to shovel fruits and vegetables down his throat, even manages to drain an entire Brita filter worth of water. You watch him fondly, tugging him upstairs to one of the bedrooms. You shove him onto the mattress. “Sleep.”

Jaemin pouts at you but acquiesces, pulling you down on top of him. He’s asleep in seconds.

You wake up the next morning before Jaemin, wiggling out of his hold when your bladder, stomach, and throat start screaming at you simultaneously

The bathroom is just as nice as the rest of the house, though you can tell it hasn’t been used in a while. There’s a thin layer of dust on the mirror and you wipe at it with your shirt sleeve, wincing at your reflection. Jaemin really didn’t mess around yesterday. Your neck is fucking purple.

Your stomach screams at you again and you shrug, deciding that you don’t care that much. Pancakes are much more important.

Jeno and Donghyuck are both sitting at the kitchen table when you walk in. Donghyuck holds up a teapot, eyebrows furrowed in question, and you nod gratefully.

He pours you a cup and then sits back in his seat, staring at you as you make your way around the kitchen. You raise your eyebrows at him. “What?”

“Just wondering when you got mauled.” Donghyuck shrugs, motioning to his neck. “Didn’t realize zombies could do that.”

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Hilarious.”

He waits a moment to respond. “So you and Jaemin, huh? I guess you decided you could choose, after all.”

You freeze at his words, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It should be easy to say yes. He’s basically giving you an out, giving you a chance to say that you chose, giving you the chance to stop the emotional strain you’re putting on all of them. 

It’s not. “What? No, I didn’t choose anything. He needed comfort and I- I was there to give it to him.”

“I think we could all use some comfort right now.” Jeno shoots back. You look between the two boys with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You said you couldn’t choose. So don’t. Have all three of us.” Jeno says. Like it’s that simple.

You gape at him. “No, I can’t- I can’t date all three of you. It’s selfish and-”

“It’s not, y/n. And don’t say that it’s weird, either, because we’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. That’s not exactly normal.” Donghyuck interrupts. He takes a deep breath, releasing it in a whoosh before continuing. “And I wasn’t exactly being fair to you before. I know I blamed you for using us to fill the gap left by your family, but I think we were all doing the same thing.”

“We lost our lives, too.” Jeno adds, smiling grimly. “Hyuck’s right. Nothing about this is normal. We don’t need labels or anything, it’s not like we need to worry about following the status quo.” He’s got a point. It’s hard to be judged by a society that no longer exists.

Donghyuck walks closer to you. He glances down at his feet for a moment before raising his gaze, taking your hands in his own. “I know I've been an asshole to you. But if you want all of us, then that’s fine. I’m happy with that.” Jeno chimes in with a “me too.”

You nod. “Wow. Okay. I need a minute. I’m gonna go and. Process that.” He lets go of your hands, letting you turn away to collect your thoughts.

“Y/n?” You poke your head back into the room at the sound of your name. “That wasn’t me apologizing, by the way. You definitely deserved some of it.”

A laugh leaves you. “Okay, Hyuck.”

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 2

And thus we come to another day, another chapter.

Day 2: Stealing Hoodies for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 3k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Toes

~

Tai rolled in Sunday with a brisk breeze and a hint of last night’s rain following him. The awkward timidness he’d had, had evaporated quicker than the puddles outside, burned away into steely determination as he got right down to business. “Alright, so, how do you want me?”

Qrow nodded to his bed, the recliner having been pushed up alongside it. His kit was sitting on the nightstand. “Take off your shirt and lie down.”

“Gee, at least buy me dinner first.”

He supposed he walked right into that one.

“Hah. Let’s see if you have any jokes left after we pass the fourth hour.” He strode over to his chair, fetching a roll of paper towels on his way. “I told you we’d be at this for a while. Trust me, you’ll be glad to be in a more comfortable position.”

Qrow had calculated it. He’d have six sessions per letter. At eight to ten hours per session, he’d have a range of 48 to 60 hours per design. It seemed like a lot of time, but drawing on paper wasn’t quite the same as drawing on people. Paper didn’t need potty breaks, for example, and it tended to stay stationary the entire time. Add on to the fact this was easily the biggest project he’d ever undertaken, and he knew he was going to need every second he could get.

At least I won’t be enduring it alone, he thought as he watched Tai kick off his shoes and shirt and climb onto the bed. Qrow poured the alcohol onto one of the paper towels, and as he dabbed at the other’s skin, he noticed the face the other man was making. “Sorry, guess it’s a little strong.”

“It’s not that.” Tai said, rubbing his nose. “Uh, not to be your maid or anything but, you really need to wash your sheets.”

For a split second, Qrow was offended. Then the realization hit. “Oh. You’re smelling the ink.” He indicated the row of bottles organized in the case. The only one he’d need today, the black, was sitting next to his rotary machine. “I mix it with my own pheromones. It helps neutralize the stench.”

The omega reached for the little bottle, giving it a whiff. His eyebrows shot up and suddenly, he was staring at it like it held the meaning of life. “That’s… incredible. But won’t that give me away?”

“Not when your RO can’t smell her way out of a canteen.” They were all betas. Being the neutral dynamic meant there was no risk of ‘going soft’ on their parolee like an omega might, nor get over-protective like an alpha absolutely would. But it also meant that after Qrow finished relining the tattoos, the dramatic shift to Tai’s scent would be almost undetectable. “And if she does notice, just tell her you’re trying out a new perfume.”

“That smells like matchsticks and blueberries?”

“You’ll be fine. You’re good at improvising.”

As Tai eased himself back down, he finished sanitizing his back, then moved on to getting himself ready. He double-checked the machine, made sure the parts were in place and the wire running back to the outlet was untangled and slack. Taped the paper copy of the design over the edge of his nightstand and uncapped the ink bottle. “So, this is how this works.” Qrow said as he pulled on his gloves, “You need to be as still as possible. We’re gonna have a five-minute break every hour, give you a chance stretch and move around. We’ll stop a bit longer half way in or so to eat. But if you need me to stop for any other reason just let me know. And uh, fair warning – when I start tattooing over the letter itself, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Tai nodded. “Got it.”

“Okay.” He dipped the needle and turned on the pen, the quiet buzzing filling the room. “Here we go.”

The moment needle met skin, he felt muscle tense under his hand. Spotted the way Tai’s toes curled in his socks and his face screwed shut. Qrow continued on slowly as he looped one line from the top of the S and connected it to down the middle, then did it again from the bottom part of the S. By the time the S had turned into an 8, the omega had relaxed again, sighing softly. He took that as a sign to continue and started coloring in the new side.

Hour one passed in complete silence.

~

“So, how’s it looking?” Tai asked, swiveling his head around. If he tried any harder, he might become an owl.

Qrow watched him from the stove. “Most of the line art on the top is finished.” He turned on the burners for the kettle and pot of water. “Should be fine to get the rest done in a few hours.”

“I can’t believe how fast it’s going.”

“Yeah well, this is the easy part.” He opened the pantry, eyeing over the options. “Wait until we get to coloring. I have to switch between needles for shading and clean between them.”

There was a dragging noise as one of the dining room chairs was pulled back. “I’m sorry it’s so much work. We don’t have to do all that, if you don’t want.”

Qrow was grateful only his shelves could see his scowl. He breathed out slow, pulled down the pork-flavored ramen packets, saying casually as he went back to the stove, “I mean if you’re too scared to keep going…”

“I didn’t say that! I’m just trying to be nice.” Tai grumbled the last past.

I don’t need you to be nice to me! Frustration welled in him, but he forced it back down. Getting angry wasn’t going to help. Even if this extremely complacent, easily guilted Tai made him want to go out and burn down every Gods’ damned reformatory there was. “Forget about it. I’m too much of a perfectionist to half-ass my work anyways.” He tried to brush off. But now Tai had that kicked puppy look that told him he was feeling bad, which only made Qrow feel bad in turn, so he deflected instead, “I mean, unless it’s too much for you. You’ve been quiet. Is it hurting that bad?”

“Oh, no it’s fine. I, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t want to distract you.”

“You won’t.” He cracked the bags in half twice, tearing open the pack. “And it helps pass the time.” He dropped the ramen noodlesinto the water that was just starting to bubble and got the mugs down for tea, absolutely refusing to look at the other lest he read all over his face just how much he missed talking to him.

“Well… besides illegal tattooing in the tiniest apartment known to man on the shady side of town, what else have you been up to?”

The kettle was picked up just as it began to whistle. Like the cups filling with water, Qrow opened his mouth and let the words flow out just as easy.

~

As evening approached, another storm blew in. Rain drops smattered against the window every time the wind picked up, drowning out the noise of his pen. Qrow had rearranged his furniture, putting the recliner and nightstand in opposite positions so he could work on the lower half of the design in the 8. His focus was completely on the coastline coming to life over tanned skin.

“Remember that time we snuck out your window so we could put all those plastic rats on Professor Port’s porch for April Fool’s Day?”

Well, maybe not completely.

Qrow snickered. They had camped out in the bushes until dawn, just so they could take the TA’s picture when he came out to get his morning paper. “His face was priceless.”

“Not sure the punishment was worth it though.” Tai bemoaned.

“It was only a week’s detention.”

“For you. I got three month’s grounding on top of it.”

He reinked his pen. “Which you immediately broke by coming to my house every day.”

Tai took the brief pause as a chance to scratch his nose. “I never would have got caught if dad didn’t go home early that one time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. My ears are still ringing from that lecture.” He flipped back on the pen and continued working on the islands that would split the sea from the sky.

The omega cleared his throat, deepening his voice just enough it was an almost disturbingly perfect imitation of his father, “‘If you don’t want to land yourself into juvie, then you’ll stop leading my son into a life of delinquency.’”

Qrow grinned, continuing for him and really hamming it up, “’Don’t you know my delicate boy’s future depends on finding a proper and upstanding alpha?’”

“He didn’t say delicate.” But Tai was laughing with him.

“Might as well have.” It wouldn’t have been too off-base for the Xiao Longs. They’d always been the traditional, overbearing types, trying to jumpstart every little bit of their only son’s future in every possible avenue. When they’d been young, it always seemed like Tai was going to some lesson or appointment. Swimming. Woodworking. Jeet Kune Do. It had been so excessive it had given his own mother ideas – but at least she let Raven and him choose what they wanted to learn.

After looking through the primordial alpha courses, Raven had chosen fencing.

Qrow had wanted to go with her but there was nothing like that in the omega pamphlets he’d been given. In the end, he kicked his feet all the way to his first few art lessons.

His dad had been pretty ticked off they’d wasted the money when, a few years later, puberty had Qrow shooting up past six feet and presenting as an alpha.

But that was nothing compared to the nuclear war that went off when, just shortly after his fourteen birthday, the Xiao Longs discovered Tai was an omega. The lessons stopped and the strict rules started. No going out past seven o’ clock. No cursing. No dating. No kissing. No sex. And especially, no alphas in the house. Ever.

By the time Tai was fifteen, he’d already broken every single one of them.

Qrow, who hadn’t exactly been an angel himself, thought it was hilarious and maybe encouraged him a bit more than he should have. But honestly, what did anyone expect of either of them? After being caged in like a defenseless pup, he was finally allowed break free and be a little reckless. Meanwhile, Tai refused to be shoved into that same cage, smashing through the doors all on his own. They’d been quite a pair, back in the day.

Nostalgia hit him in a wave. “How are your folks doing these days?”

“They’re fine. Dad’s started a new garden. And Mom’s been talking about renovating the old cabin house we used to vacation at. Said it would be a good place for the girls to enjoy. I was gonna help but…” Tai trailed off, his eyes glazing over a bit. “They wrote to me a few times while I’d been…. yanno.”

Something bitter built in his chest. A long-forgotten fury that had weighed on him when his mother had likewise been ripped from their family to stay at a reformatory and the only comforts he’d got was from the Xiao Longs reassuring him she’d come back as a ‘better omega’. “I’m certain they were just bursting with encouragement and support.”

“Definitely isn’t winning any motivational speech awards.” He joked humorlessly.

There was a quiet lull. Qrow took it as a chance to re-ink and stretch out the crick stiffening his fingers.

As he lowered the needle once more, Tai spoke up, hesitant. “What about you? Heard from your family at all?”

He frowned, knowing there was only one of those two people he actually cared to hear about. He indulged him regardless. “Well, you know my old man. Probably still doesn’t even know I’m gone.” He tapped his pen down, drawing the m-shapes that were meant to be a couple of gulls flying away in the sky. “As for Raven, haven’t seen her for years. Not sure she could find me.” When he paused to survey his work, he couldn’t help but think that the shapes really could have been any birds. “Even if she could, doubt she’d want to.”

The kicked puppy look was back. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Qrow lied, as if the last argument he and Raven ever had wasn’t entirely about Taiyang. But he didn’t need to know about that.

~

“You left? Raven you can’t leave!”

“Don’t growl at me. And anyways, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is Tai’s your mate. You guys have a daughter!”

“And that means I’m bound to him for life? We made a mistake! We were dumb kids. It happens.”

“So you just pack up your shit and tell him ‘good fucking luck’? He loves you! How can you act like that doesn’t matter?”

“…”

“Well?!”

“Really, little brother?”

“Wh-”

“If you want to go and play house with him, be my guest. But don’t project your feelings onto me. This is my life. My choice.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I guess throwing people out of your life is a fucking choice. Just don’t be surprised when you get the same in return.”

“Are you seriously-”

“Get out. And until you get your head out of your ass, don’t bother coming back!”

~

Qrow taped down the bandage over Tai’s back, the antibiotic cream he’d spread along the new tattoo squishing against the adhesive. He ran through the aftercare steps almost subconsciously. “Keep this on until you go to bed. When you do take it off, wash it with warm water and soap. Do that a few times a day tomorrow and the next day too. If anything seems wrong, just call me.”

“Got it.” Tai reached for his shirt. At least he’d had the foresight to bring a button up. As he pulled it on, he gave Qrow a crooked little smile that made him look adorably boyish. “Same time next week then?”

“Uh, yeah.” He slipped off the bed, making a great show of looking for the other’s shoes. His cheeks felt a little less hot by the time he was returning to the bedside with them. “We’ll have to work on the U next. I’ll keep sending you designs, but a little direction would help.”

Tai slipped into his shoes, getting to his feet. “I don’t really have the eye for this kind of stuff. Just pick something easy.”

“Feel like I’m having a case of déjà vu here.” Qrow huffed, tapping a finger to the center of Tai’s chest. “This is your body Tai, not mine. So could you please put just a mite bit more effort into something you’re gonna have to wear the rest of your life?”

The other’s eyes widened before he looked away. He made an aborted motion towards his neck, fell short, and worried the corner edge of his collar between his fingers. “Could you do words?”

“Yeah.” He replied haltingly, taken aback by the sudden shift. “I’ll probably want to craft stencils to keep the script nice though – and no, it’s not hard.”

Tai nodded, another one of those not-quite smiles on his face. “Then I think I do know what I want for this one. I’ll send you some pictures later tonight.”

“Well… good! See was that so hard?”

“Immensely.” He answered, laying it on thick as honey.

Qrow jabbed him in the shoulder. “Don’t oversell it prima donna. You should start heading home, unless you’re planning on doing a rendition of Singing in the Rain out there.”

Tai spared a look to the window. “It’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?” The sky had darkened with the setting sun, making the already heavy clouds appear thick and ominous. Rain battered against his window at a continuous rate. The minute the omega left the complex, he was going to be soaked. “Think this’ll be okay?” He waved vaguely to his left shoulder where the tattoo began on the other side of.

“Mm, probably. But I guess a little extra cover wouldn’t hurt.” He crossed over to his little box of a closet, rummaging through the sparse selection. “This’ll work. It’s a bit oversized for me, so it should be perfect for you. Here.”

He snapped the black hoodie off its hanger, tossing it. Tai caught it. “You’re sure?”

“What are you gonna do to it? Dye it pink?”

“Well now that’s a thought. It’d match your eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t pink!”

Tai’s laughter was muffled in fabric as he gingerly slipped the hoodie on, being as mindful as possible of his back. By the time his head popped back out, his hair was all mussed up.

It was unfairly cute and Qrow tried very hard not to think about it as he walked him to the door.

Tai stepped into the hall, then paused, turning back to him. He reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey uh, thank you. For all this. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Qrow was pretty sure the touch was electric, because he was suddenly paralyzed. How he even got his jaw to work was a miracle in and of itself. “Don’t mention it.”

The omega hesitated, as if he wanted to argue, but only said, “Sure. I’ll see you soon Qrow.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it was long after Tai had left the hall that he finally found the strength to close the door, slumping against the wood with a pitiful groan.

He thought he was over this. He should be over this. He wasn’t a lovesick teen anymore and this wasn’t a romantic comedy where after a bunch of wild, misleading antics, everything came together in the end. He’d lost his chance – twice over apparently. It was useless to try now.

So why did his stupid, pathetic heart still yearn?

“Come on Qrow.” He knocked his head against the door, hoping to rattle some sense into himself. “You did this for six years. You can do it again for six months.”

As he trod his way back to his bed, falling into it only to realize it smelt like Tai and would continue to every Sunday for weeks, he burrowed his head in his pillow and screamed.

Six was becoming a very unlucky number for him.

[unmanageable-day]

Come to me

previous chapter. 1 - 2 - 2.5 - 3 - 4 - 5

PART 6 - next

Summary. After what happened in a relationship in the past, you found it  difficult to trust someone with the gentleman image. 'Gentleman' seems like merely a concept and it was probably impossible for someone to be a genuine one. Now that you're stuck with the number one gentleman at campus for a  group project, how would you cope with the one and only Joshua Hong?

Genre. College!au, non-idol!au / friends to lover

Pairing. Joshua x y/n x a little bit of S.Coups, and a sprinkle of Wonwoo

a/n: the first appearance of coupsieee!

Joshua was restless with a can of beer in his hand that remained full although the lid was opened. He kept checking the clock on the wall, on his wristwatch, and on his phone. Maybe she won't come, he thought. Or maybe she will, I mean, Johnny's here. Suddenly it crossed his mind to do head counting.

Jeonghan, Mingyu, and Soonyoung were already here. Seungcheol, Seungkwan and Vernon were out to get some more drinks. Jihoon wouldn't come obviously. Minghao and Junhui were staying in China longer than expected. Wonwoo. Where is Wonwoo?

Just then, the door was swung open. Came in a tall, slim guy with a sweater and a beanie despite it was still summer. Behind him, following his step, you appeared with unsure expression. Quivering, your eyes tried scanning all over the place to find a bunch of guys excited to see you. Including Joshua, of course.

The dark blonde boy stomped to welcome you. "Y/n!" he almost exclaimed since he can't hide how relieved he was. "I thought you wouldn't come."

Unconsciously, you scooted closer to Wonwoo who was standing next to you, talking with Chan who just came as well. "Yeah, I was working on my essay for extra credit. It's due in 3 days."

"I see." He nodded slowly, trying as smooth as possible eyeing you and Wonwoo. He noticed those little interactions you shared with the beanie guy. "You and Wonwoo.. did you meet on your way?" Regrets came instantly right after he asked that. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"No. I actually did my essay at the cafe where Wonwoo works part time. So I thought of waiting for him to finish his shift so we could go together."

"I see." Now he ran out of topics. This was when he hated himself the most.

"Park Y/n! I'm glad you can make it." Jeonghan appeared from Joshua's back. This beautifully handsome man had been observing his friend being a fool, and he knew he had to save the day. "It's great to see you." He warmly welcomed you with a hug.

You shrugged as Jeonghan released his small hug. "The pleasure is mine," you muttered.

"Wonwoo, it's great to see you too. You’ve been working hard these days." Jeonghan hugged Wonwoo, smoothly leading the beanie guy walk away from you and Joshua, and joining Soonyoung and Seokmin instead.

You were about to call Wonwoo’s name but Joshua distracted you.

"Hey, let’s come in. Johnny’s inside already. He came with Jaehyun, a friend of Mingyu. Speaking of Mingyu, he has been experimenting with our drinks and he wants to show it off."

Smiling awkwardly, you nodded and followed his steps to the kitchen where you can find Mingyu and the other guys getting excited to see you. As you reached the pantry, you headed straight towards Johnny and Jaehyun who were watching Mingyu mixing some drinks. Joshua was behind you, silently watching you blend naturally with those giant guys. He wanted to get closer, but he knew he had to keep his distance. Otherwise, you would be freaked out. Things between you and him would be worse. And that would be the last thing he wanted.

Soon, Wonwoo and Soonyoung joined the crowds in the kitchen. This time you made your way back to Wonwoo's side. Meanwhile Joshua was stuck to a corner—a perfect spot to observe all around the dining room where everyone was scattered here and there. Approximately 3 meter away from his spot, your back was facing him as you occupied yourself chattering with Wonwoo.

"Jisoo, stop looking at her and Wonwoo like that." Jeonghan quietly hissed. "You're almost burning a hole on her back because you're intensely shooting laser with your eyes."

Joshua bit his bottom lip, looking uneasy. "Am I weird?" I definitely am. Who in the world tried to kiss a girl without even confessing properly? He was mad at himself.

"We're all weird."

"Do you think Wonwoo is more attractive than me? I thought he's way more quiet than me."

"She had spent more time with Wonwoo. That's obvious. She knows him better. She's comfortable with him better."

"Okay. That is not helping."

"I never say I'm going to help."

Joshua widened his eyes at Jeonghan. Such a love language between these twins.

"Okay, kidding. Just try to talk more? Ask her out? The finals will be over in a matter of weeks anyway. How about inviting her to our camping plan? I'll help to set you up."

Not a good idea, he internally answered. His buddy had no idea he tried to hang out for a movie night the other day, which ended not in a good term. The other reason that had been in his mind was because Wonwoo would be there too. But again, if Wonwoo wasn't there, what would be the reason to make you join the trip? Even the presence of Soonyoung, Seokmin and Mingyu wouldn't be good enough.

"Hey, why are you two whispering?" A pale guy with thick eyebrows crept up behind Joshua and Jeonghan, effectively startling the two best buds.

"What took you so long, Choi Seungcheol?" Jeonghan diverted the topic immediately.

"I had to take longer route because Seungkwan wanted to get americano. The three nearest coffee shops were closed." He sipped his drink. "Anyway, who is that fella? The one sticking with Mingyu and Wonwoo? She's pretty."

"Yes, she is," Joshua half consciously muttered. His eyes were locked on you that it made him almost out of his mind. "Wait, what?!"

Jeonghan had to hold his laughter looking at Joshua's reaction. "Hold your horses, Coups," he managed to speak between his chuckles.

"What?" Seungcheol flashed his gummy smile.

"Not you too, please," Joshua whined, frowning.

"All I'm saying is that she's pretty." Now it was his turn to chuckle. "Is she with either Mingyu or Wonwoo?"

"She's with no one. And if you could, please, please, don't get in my way."

Seungcheol giggled. He found it adorable to see his friend so helplessly in love. He just wanted to tease him. Nothing harmless, right?

"Anyway, Coups, I have an idea to invite her to our camping plan after the finals. What do you say?" Jeonghan told him.

"That would be fantastic. Have you told her?"

Instead of answering their buddy, Joshua and Jeonghan only exchanged looks. Jeonghan was actually waiting for Joshua's response. Or maybe he should have just forced the American friend to present himself before you. Sometimes he got frustrated looking at how slow his friend was.

"I'll talk to her," Seungcheol stated, grinning mischievously at Joshua. "But it's not my fault if she falls for me."

Rolling his eyes, Joshua cynically chuckled. "You wish. You're not even close to Jeon Wonwoo."

The oldest snapped his fingers excitedly. "Aha! So the real rival is Wonwoo."

Joshua squinted his eyes, feeling annoyed although he knew his friend didn't mean it in a bad way.

Seungcheol shifted closer as he put his arm on Joshua's shoulder. "But, my friend, do you even see how she looks at Wonwoo?"

"I can see that clearly, just in case you forget I also have two eyes," he spat, brushing Seungcheol’s hand on his shoulder.

"I would like to remind you, Jisoo, that you also have one mouth and two legs. So, why don't you make yourself useful and go talk to her. You'll thank me later," Jeonghan uttered, sipping his drink. "Or let's just let Seungcheol do it. He looks eager."

Seungcheol wiggled his brows before really leaving his friends. Joshua almost dropped his jaw when his eyes were fixated Seungcheol's steps approaching you confidently. He was dying to know what Seungcheol told you as your attention was now on him and Jeonghan. Beside him, Jeonghan waved at you, beaming wide. Joshua didn't want to look awkward, so he drew a little smile, hoping you would find him less weird.

--- Later on that night

[whatshername-please]

Out of the Water - Chapter V

Synopsis: You were very proud to be a mermaid, thank you very much. You didn’t want to be where the people were. Actually, you’d rather avoid it. Defending the merfolk was the biggest goal in your life… well, it was until you meet a certain pirate… it seems that your family really had a thing for humans, after all. Not that you’d ever admit it…

Pairing: Harry x reader

Word count: 4514

Part 5 of ?

Warnings: none? Possibly grammar mistakes? Also, some cuss words

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I’ll probably mess up some tenses, grammar and stuff. Go easy on me, please. Feedback is always appreciated.

               The sun was fading away in the horizon and soon it would be dark and, as you walked, you wondered why everything in this damned kingdom had to be so far away? Didn't they have magic carpets or something like that? Besides, since it was getting darker by the second, the sense of urgency was growing too. You had the feeling that Audrey was just playing with you - she obviously knew where you were, so why she didn't make a move yet? It was like a cat and mouse game and you were the mice heading towards a trap. Also, Mal having the Amber did not put your mind at ease since you didn't have the advantage.

You were literally entering to the lion's lair willingly.

"What happened between you and Hook?" You raised an eyebrow and Evie, who had come to talk to you, explained. "We heard the screaming. I know he can be difficult to deal with, but soon we'll all be in Auradon together".

Evie was way too good for this world, wasn't she? You didn't have the heart to contradict her or tell the atrocity the pirate had done to you.

"I know, sweetie. Don't worry, I'll try to be civil, even if the person in question is an utterly jerk who deserves a punch".

She sighed, looking almost disappointed. Obviously, you didn't give the answer she was hoping for but honestly, what was she expecting from you? Moreover, your response was nice enough, considering Harry was annoying and a water thief.  

"That's a beginning, I suppose. But I think we can work on the aggressive attitude, though" she said with a shrug.

Oh, maybe you should have skipped the punching part... If she thought that was violent, you hoped she never found out that you almost chopped Harry's finger off, then.

As the time passed you grew impatient, it was already night and no one was in a chatty mood anymore. As for you, you've never wished for a day to end so fast and, on top of that, something else was bothering you and it was not the perspective of facing Psycho Audrey. Maybe it was the fact that once everything was over, Mal would let the kids off the Isle (it was what she had promised, after all). However, as much as you want to believe her, you had your doubts. Either way, nothing would ever be the same.

Finally, you arrived at Fairy Cottage and crossed the garden very quietly, trying not to draw attention to yourselves. When you finally got at the building, Ben burst the door open.

Great way to go unnoticed.

However, in the end, it didn't matter because Audrey wasn't there and your little journey had been a waste of time, thereby she was still on the loose and you had no one idea where she could be or what she was planning to do (but whatever it was, it would be unpleasant). Suddenly, the sound of a bustling knock filled the air startling everybody.  Ben followed the source of the disturbence and discovered a very scared Chad locked in the pantry.

The poor thing looked completely distressed and hysterical and, soon after, he mumbled some nonsense and rushed off without a second thought.

"Well, at least he is pretty" you said out loud. How Cinderela could have had such a foolish son was beyond your comprehension, but his golden locks made up for the lack of discernment.

Harry laughed and the clumsy encounter with Chad lifted everyone's spirit and, when you left the Cottage, there weren't Mal's gang or Uma's crew anymore, just friends trying to save the world. Even if you were all doomed; at least you'd end up things in good terms.

Yeah, that's what you naively thought.

Evie told Ben about Mal's promise and apparently Mal had had other plans that she didn't bother sharing with anyone: she was going to close the barrier for good. No more in, no more out.

Nothing serious or extreme.

No reason to freak out...

Holly shit!

You felt like a fool!

Just to think that you gave your word to Harry and Gil that Ben wouldn't do that! You were so mad that you couldn't even talk and it never happened before! Also, you didn't have the heart to face Uma, not after you said to her things were changing for the better. You knew how Uma pretended to be tough, but right now her spirit had been shattered...

Harry confronted Ben about the lie and you thought he'd lose his shit and gut someone, but he just looked completely broken, like someone had taken away his will to fight. Even though Harry and Uma knew pain and betrayal, they didn't expect this. They trusted the people of Auradon were different and they were let down.

Things weren't suppose to go this way! You wanted to do something! Anything! But what?

It was then that Celia took the amber from Mal's hand and threw it into the water. Well, if you were screwed before, now you were hopeless. At least it was for a good cause, if people in Auradon thought their lives were worthier than the life of the inhabitants of the Isle, let them rot. You couldn't even be mad at Uma for leaving since that was what you wanted to do too, but you knew there was nothing you could do to help her in this moment. Actually, you knew Uma well enough to know that going after her would only bother her.

The words Harry said to you earlier about Auradon's privilege echoed in your mind and you couldn't stay put anymore.

"I know this is not my place to say something. I mean, most of the time I'm not even here, I'm not a VK and closing the barrier doesn't affect my life... but it does. It does because there are people there, good people destined to live a dreadful life just because they were born on that Isle! People in Auradon have been living their perfect little lives where everything is pretty and colorful while we claim to be the good guys, but what we have done to the villains and their kids is atrocious! There will always be good and evil, that's how life works and we can't run away from it. Deciding which path to follow is what defines someone's true self, but in order to make this decision we need to have a chance. Mal, you of all people should know that, you had a chance and now that your life is good you want to deny those children the same opportunity? From this day on, every time you play 'happily ever after' with your prince charming, know that you are doing it at the expense of a child on that Isle"

You wish you had heard Mal's reply, but as soon as you finished talking, the world froze.

                                                     _______

Legend says that you were indeed the hottest stone statue in Auradon, but it didn't soothe you a bit. To say you were pissed was not nearly enough to express what you were feeling right now. If Audrey weren't already dying, you would have gladly killed her yourself. The only reason why you were still in the awful human world was Uma... this, and also because becoming stone had consumed all your energies and right now you were way too busy drinking a huge bottle of salted water to not die of dehydration.

Your grandfather would have to choose another diplomat because you were never ever setting foot on land again.

Maybe, if you weren't so angry, you would have choked on your drink when Mal told Hades was her father.

It explained a lot about her, though.

So, Hades, Mal's father, was the only one who could save Audrey and they were going to fetch him on the Isle to help the dying girl. Oh! The double standard! When a kid from Auradon curses everybody is "a mistake", but if someone from the Isle does that is "they are too dangerous, let's lock them up forever". Is it fair? No. Does anyone care? Also no.

You thought it couldn't get any worse, but boy, you were wrong. Uma just said she was going back to the Isle, which was pretty understandable and expected, but you had one itty-bitty tiny hope that she would stay.

Oh, on top of that, everyone accepted Mal and Ben's selfish decision to close the barrier. You scoffed under your breath, salted water wasn't enough to deal with all this, you needed something stronger, like vodka. The good thing was, since everyone was leaving and your cousins were safe, you had no more business in the human world and you took your cue from the VKs to announce your own departure too.

You waited for the limo alongside Uma, Harry, Gil and Celia, the atmosphere was tense, and you had seen happier people at funerals.

"I thought you were going back to Atlantica" the teal haired girl said, breaking the overwhelming silence.

"I'll go with you... until we reach the barrier, at least" your voice was more hoarse than you expected it to.

"Yeah, don't want to risk getting trapped, right?" If this was supposed to be a mean comment, Harry had failed; he just sounded sad, like everyone else. The pirate wasn't expecting an answer but you gave him one, anyway.

"I wouldn't mind going to the Isle, but there is no magic there and no magic means no legs for me, so you would be stuck with a mermaid... unless you don't care to carry me around..." you half-joked.

The car finally arrived and you got into it. It was nice that Ben sent the limo to pick up the VKs, and the guard's vehicle was going ahead, probably to go find Hades. There was all sorts of food in the limo, but no one touched them because all of you were way too lost in your own minds to be hungry. As you were approaching the Isle the unsettling feeling in your stomach grew worst and there was definitely something wrong with your eyes. Just before the car crossed the barrier, you asked the driver to stop. For one second, it seemed he would argue against it, but you gave him a warning look, since you weren't in the mood for more useless fights.

"Uma, can we talk outside for one second, please?" you asked.

You two got out of the car and, as soon as Uma closed the door, you hugged her.

"I'm sorry, Uma. I'm so sorry" the only thing you could do was to repeat how sorry you were, but you knew your apologies didn't change anything.

"I know" she reassured you, looking in your eyes "It's not your fault, you shouldn't be apologizing".

"Someone has to" you said, your felt so tight in your chest that hurt. Then, Uma smiled and hold your hand.

"Thanks for everything you've done for me. I don't know how I would have gone through the past months without you"

"You'd have done just fine, you're a fighter" it was now or never, you lowered your voice so even if someone in the car was paying attention to the conversation, they wouldn't hear you "You can still change your mind, let's go back to Atlantica and, before you interrupt me, Harry and Gil can come too. I have no idea how this is going to work but we'll figure it out" you offered her - you had to try.

"You know I can't abandon the Isle, speacially now" her eyes were full of sorrow, she knew exactly what meant to go back "Maybe you can swim near the barrier so we can see each other from time to time".

You knew she would say that, but it didn't mean it hurt any less.

"Definitely!" you tried to sound cheerful, but the words that left your mouth were robotic and fake "We'll see each other again".

This was a lie, even if you saw each other it would never be the same. The realization hit you hard and that weird feeling that you had in the car, finally made sense when streams of salt water started falling from your eyes.

"I'm leaking!" you freaked out "What is that?! I'm leaking!"

"You're crying, you idiot" she laughed, her eyes watering too.

"Nonsense, mermaids don..." before you could complete the sentence, Uma hugged you again, which made you start crying even harder.

No, not crying, leaking.

"I promise, Uma. I'll not stop fighting for the Isle. I'll talk to Mal, Ben or whoever I must to! They will change their minds, even if, in order to do so, I have to summon up the wrath of the ocean upon them".

You didn't know how long you two stayed crying in each others arms but a voice with a thick accent called both of you after a while.

"Are you ladies alright?" Harry asked. The pirate and Gil were standing there next to both of you. The dark haired boy had a hint of curiosity on his face but he knew better than to tease his captain.

You two pulled away from the hug, Uma looked slightly embarassed to get caught in such an emotional moment.

"I can't believe I'm leaking" you said while trying to wipe away the tears from your eyes; however, they insisted on falling down.

This was so awkward.

"You're not leaking, you're crying" Gil's brow furrowed "Don't you know what crying is?"

"Yes, I do... it's just I've never cried before..." you said between sobs.

"Wow, life in Auradon must be really perfect if people don't even cry here" for the firts time since you met him, he sounded sad. The boy was probably thinking about all the opportunities he would never have in Auradon because he was destined to live on the Isle forever.

They took away Gil's bright smile and you could not forgive that.

"It's not that... I live in the sea, tears don't fall when you are under water" you explained, finally calming down.

"Maybe the ocean is just a big pool of mermaid's tears." Gil said absently, eyeing the vast blue ocean in front of him and you couldn't help but hug the blonde boy too.

The Sea Bitch was such a softie.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Gil. I wish we had more time to know each other better, but I know for sure that you're loyal, brave and gentle. I hope you are very happy. You deserve it".

You broke apart short after and Gil seemed very touched by your words.

"Thanks... that was one of nicest things that someone ever said to me" he offered you a shy smile "I wish you the same".

You looked at Harry, who looked back right into your eyes. You stared at each other until you hold out your hand, which he accepted. It was weird, Harry Hook has gotten on your nerves since the very first moment you met. He was smug, annoying and a little crazy, but at the same time he was very funny and fearless, qualities that you admired. You wanted to say something, but before you could open your mouth he let go of your hand.

That was it, then.

You also said goodbye to Celia and wished her the best. Then, the VKs got into the car again and, since Harry was the last one standing outside, you took the chance to ask him a favor.

"Please, take care of Uma"

His face broke into small smile and he nodded slightly.

You watched with a shattered heart the limo cross the barrier, taking away your friends from you forever.

There was nothing else you could do, so you jumped into the ocean and disappeared between the waves.

Not an hour ago all you wanted was to be back home, but now everything seemed pointless. For the last months Uma lived in Atlantica and going back without her gave you a knot in the stomach, things wouldn't be the same anymore without your friend there. The two of you used to spend hours plotting ways to get everyone off the Isle, finding a hole in the barrier or just talking about the future... and now you had nothing but crushed hopes. Of course you wouldn't give up, but you felt like you had moved backwards 10 spaces in the game, you fought for the merfolk on the Isle for so long and when it finally seemed that everything was going to be fine, it was a lie.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't pay attention to where you were heading, which caused you to bump into your mother and younger brother.

"Where have you been"? Attina asked, her voice was somewhere between angry and concerned, but it was impossible to miss the vein popping out on her forehead "I was worried sick about you!"

"Sorry mom, I was in Auradon" you told her, knowing very well that this answer would only upset her more because there was no way she hadn't hear about Audrey and her little mishap.

"Auradon?!" The look of horror on her face made clear that she knew about what happened and wasn't happy about it. If humans thought you were hardcore, it was because they never talked to your mother "Do you know what Sleeping Beauty's daughter did?"

If you knew? You lived and survived it.

"I heard even Uma was there! Your grandfather was almost sending guards to look for you and your cousins! What happened?"

"Did you finally meet Uma, then?" your brother, Nereus, joined the conversation. He didn't know anything about Uma or that you two were friends. Also, he had no idea that he had talked to her many times when she was under the charm spell.

Then, your mother called by your full name, which never meant something good.

"You weren't there in hopes to befriend Ursula's daughter and bring all the merfolk from the Isle to Atlatica, were you?" Your mother knew you so well... and she wasn't happy.

"Of course not, mom..." I'm already friends with Uma, you added mentally.  

Before she started complaining, you explained everything that happened that day (ok, almost everything, you definitely skipped some parts). Her disapproval face grew to the point her vein was ready to explode, while your brother gasped and cheered at the most exciting parts, as you told the story. Under other circumstances you would have narrated the events in a dramatic and majestic way, not sparing any single detail; however, it was way too painful to remember that was your first and last adventure with Uma and her crew.

"Will they close the barrier forever for real?" Nereus asked and, when you nodded, he offered you a sympathetic smile. He knew how much you fought for the merpeople on the Isle.

Your mother, on the other hand, had other things bothering her.

"So, you tell me that they let a bunch of kids fight against a delusional girl who held one of the most dangerous tools of dark magic in the kingdom? Where were Fairy Godmother, the Blue Fairy, the 3 Good Fairies? You can't trust fairies, that's what I always say to your grandfather! Where were Belle and the Beast? Any adults?!" as she talked, her voice got more and more high-pitched, until she was practically shouting.

"They were probably under Audrey's spell" you enlightned her, even knowing that it would not ease her mind one bit.

"That's an absurd! How can we trust our kids to go to Auradon Prep if they can't keep the security system of a museum working properly?!"

You and your brother exchanged looks. Although your mother had a valid point, you didn't want to hear any of it, which was odd, because you never missed the opportunity to roast the human world.

Claiming to be tired, you excused yourself and swam to your room and, as soon as you got there, you glanced at the spot where Uma would used to stay, knowing that you'd probably never talk to her again. You felt like someone was crushing your heart and if you weren't under the sea, tears would be rolling down your face. You lay on the bed, trying to stop thinking about Uma, the Isle and everything. It was a good thing that you were exhausted, so you soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but, suddenly, you were woken by someone knocking on your door. You cursed under your breath, who, in the seven seas, was disturbing you right now? Not even bothering to look up, you invited whoever was at your door to come in, you heard them entering and closing the door and, after a moment, you felt the weight of someone sitting on your bed.  

They coughed and you recognized the deep voice that belonged to none other than your grandfather, King Triton.

"Grandpa!" you sat up quickly and hugged him.

"Hello, my dear" everyone feared your grandfather for he had quite a dauntless reputation (even you had to admit that he was frightening sometimes), also, his temper was known in all Auradon. However, when he looked at you with those gentle eyes, you forgot he was the King of the ocean, in these moments he was just your grandfather and you fell protected and loved near him.

"Oh grandpa, it was dreadful and I'm misarable" you hugged him again, hiding your face on his neck.

"Your mother told me what happened and that King Ben wants to close the barrier" his voice was so calm that it was difficult to imagine that when he was angry he could create storms and tsunamis.

"That's horrible. I feel so powerless and guilty! I know most of people think everyone in the Isle is evil but that's not true! They are kind and loyal and they don't deserve to be doomed to perish in that place! You should have seem their faces when Mal told them the program had been shut down" your grandfather wasn't know for his love for villains, everytime someone brought Ursula up he got riled up and changed the subject quickly, but you needed to speak out.

"And who are 'they' that you're talking about?" he asked, stroking you hair softly to confort you.

"You know... Celia, Gil, Harry... and Uma" you were nervous to talk about Uma with him. Actually, despite him knowing that you were in charge for her "search party" you have never discussed that you wanted to bring her to Atlantica, even more that you had brought her to the palace clandestinely and that she lived under his roof for months.

"Uma?" his voice was stern when he said your friend's name.

"Grandpa" you straightned up and looked him in the eye "I know it must be hard for you because Ursula caused great pain to our family but Uma has nothing to do with it, she is brave, smart and care so much about other people. She had the chance to stay in Auradon but she came back to the Isle because she couldn't abandon them! She might has taken some questionable decisions, but who hasn't? She was fighting for what she believed was right! Isn't it what you taught me?"

King Triton furrowed his brows; the wrinkles in his forehead were visible which could only mean he was deliberating something.

"You do seem to know a lot about her" he said after a while, his voice and face were severe and you swallowed... this conversation was taking a dangerous path.

"Well... I..."

Before you could finish the sentence, your grandfather cut you off.

"I know what you did"

You froze, he couldn't possibly be talking about Uma living in Atlantica. There was no way he knew that, if he had had any suspicion of what you did, he would have been beyond furious, so you tried to play cool.

"What are you talking about, grandpa?"

He raised an eyebrow and sighed.

"I know you brought Uma to live here in Atlantica"

And then you died.

The end.

Oh wait.

You weren't dead... but you were sure your grandfather just told you that he knew about Uma... Something was terribly wrong. He probably noticed your bulging eyes and horrified expression because he elucidated soon after.

"I raised seven daughters, my darling. I don't need my trident to see through a charm spell and a lie" it was weird, his voice was strangely serene and he looked slightly amused.

"But... how... like... why... Aren't you angry?" there weren't enough words to describe your shock right now.

"I learned to trust the people I love a long time ago, even when we don't agree on the subject." his tone was solemn and wise and it made you feel so small and pathetic because you knew you had disappointed him.

"I'm sorry, grandpa.... I'm sorry that I lied to you and that I disappointed you, but I'm not sorry for what I did" you didn't have the courage to look him in the eyes, but he lifted up your face and smiled.

"You didn't disappoint me. I trusted you enough to let you do what you thought was right, that was what I taught you. And considering everything I saw in the last months, I believe Uma is a good girl and I'm glad you're friends"

You returned his smile, not in your wildest dreams you thought your grandfather would understand this and it made you so glad how supportive and understanding he was about everything.

"I'm sorry for lying to you! I won't do it again" you promised him.

"You're young, you will" he laughed it off "But trust me when I say that I'll be by your side no matter what"

Everything should be perfect; however, there were a bitter feeling in your mouth and a knot in the pit of your stomach that you couldn't get rid of. In the end, it didn't matter if your grandfather trusted Uma or not, because she would be trapped on the Isle forever.

"So… I think I need your help" you bit your lip, uncertain of how to say it "We can't let them close the barrier for good, but I don't know what to do!"

"Don't worry, I promised I'll talk to King Ben about this. They can't just close the barrier like this without measuring the consequences" he reassured you "Now, rest, my darling. You had a long day"

He got up and swan towards your door, but before leaving he turned his head and said.

"Otherwise, you have my permission to summon up the wrath of the ocean upon them" he winked at you and left.

"Wait" you whispered to yourself "How does he even know?"

And then it hit you.

"SEBASTIAN!"

[ninjacat1515]

Illager Hunter - Chapter 1

( Fiadh meets her match when she incurs the wrath of another grandmother )

The night was cool and young as Fiadh rummaged around a cottage on the far outskirts of a town; looting whatever was valuable. Gold rings with precious gems, a beautiful pocket watch, and bottles of fine wine! Not a bad run at all! The cottage itself was spacious yet cozy, with a flower garden surrounding it. Shame it was so far from Matias’s castle, it would have made a fantastic guest house.

Paintings of an older woman with her family, were dotted about the home. The Pillager surmised this was the residence of a grandmother, though she was nowhere to be found. Fiadh was simply ravenous and there hadn’t even been much food in the pantry aside from jams and bread. Meh, she did not desire such things anyway. She was craving meat, per usual. Her sharp hearing picked up the sound of someone walking up the path towards the house. Turning her head, Fiadh peeked out and saw a young girl wearing a red hat.

She was clearly the same girl from most of the paintings, and had to be the granddaughter. How adorable! And what perfect timing! Fiadh wanted to have fun with her food, so she donned the grandmother’s sleeping cap and blew out the lanterns; hopping into the bed and pulling the covers up some. A knock came to the door.

“Come in, dearie!”

Jenny opened it, stepping into the surprisingly dark cottage. This was so strange, her grandma always kept a light on, especially if she was home! It made no sense but in she went anyways.

“Hey grandma. I brought you some gardening tools from the shop and made you a cake.”

“Such a hard working child! Come closer so I may give you a hug.”

Unease sparked in Jenny, so she traveled only halfway to the bed; maintaining distance and shaking.

“What’s the matter, sweetling?”

“Grandma, what big red eyes you have!”

“All the better to see you with!”

“You have such a big nose...”

“All the better to smell the blooming flowers!”

“Y-your teeth are so s-sharp!”

Fiadh chuckled darkly.

“All the better TO EAT YOU WITH!” 

The Pillager sprang from the bed and lunged at Jenny, going right for her throat. But a garden trowel was shoved into her mouth and the human was now beating her over the head with a shovel.

“I’M NOT A FOOL!” *WHACK*  “I KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG THE MOMENT I SET FOOT INSIDE HERE!” *WHACK, WHACK, WHACK*

“OW! WRETCHED BRAT!! OW!” 

Fiadh snarled, seizing the handle of the shovel in her mouth and biting it in half; spitting out splinters. She cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders as Jenny backed away, fear rising. The Pillager grinned once she realized the human was now cowering and she was back in control. She had the girl cornered now, and there would be no escape!.

“Now little lamb chop, where were we? It really is a shame your granny isn’t here, she could join the fun!” Fiadh grabbed Jenny’s arm, ignoring the pitiful blows to her person from the youngster. Her teeth were mere inches from the quivering arm and set to start tearing flesh from bone.

“OH GRANNY’S HERE ALRIGHT!!!” 

A sledgehammer struck Fiadh in the face, sending her flying backwards into the wall. The Pillager was dazed with a broken nose and black eye. Fiadh roared as she squared off against the grandmother, who did not hesitate to strike her again to the side of the head this time, making her fall to the floor in a crumpled heap with a goofy expression on her face as she passed out.

“Take that you Illager bitch! Jenny, are you alright?!”

“Yes! I-I’m ok...”

“It’s dangerous to go up against them without a proper weapon, what were you thinking?? If in doubt, get to the trees and climb them!”

“I’m sorry grandma...”

“You’re alive, that’s what matters. Now...what do we do with that foul beast? We can’t kill her, the rest of her clan would take vicious revenge.”

Her gaze traveled to the rocks gathered from the river for gardening, and an idea formed.

“We can still teach her a nasty lesson, and she won’t be skulking around here anytime soon.”

Jenny and her grandmother moved the greedy monster to the woods, and bringing numbing potions and shears that would cut the toughest hide. They opened the Pillager’s stomach, placing rocks inside her. For good measure, granny removed the steel head of the sledgehammer and added that in as well.

She stitched Fiadh up, pouring over a wound potion that sealed the cut so it was as if it had never been made. Then they swiftly left as the Pillager gradually awoke.

Fiadh was confused and hurt everywhere, especially her head and stomach. How had she gotten out into the woods? Memories were fuzzy at best. She sat up, feeling full. Had she eaten the girl? There was no delicious taste of flesh and blood lingering in her mouth, and it felt as if metal and rocks were in her gut. The pain was unrelenting and Fiadh got to her feet, nerves frayed as much as her mind. Something was wrong and she needed to get home!

She wanted to get away from that town and that house. After looting and a meal, she should have felt great! She struggled to piece together events and growled at the bushes. The Pillager could have sworn she heard snickering there. Bah, all the more reason to get back to Matias. Fiadh stumbled and fell, hearing a dull clang in her body as she hit the ground. 

It was not flesh and blood it her stomach, those human rats had done something sneaky!! She was livid as she got up again. Once the castle doctors had helped her, she and her husband along with an army would be paying that putrid town a visit. That granny and girl would be in dire straights and Fiadh would take her revenge. How dare they do this to her! Brazen fools would soon learn their error though. 

Fiadh smiled as she walked along. Further into the woods, she slipped and tumbled into a muddy creek. Rising from the muck, she had an absolute tantrum.

[smileybokuto]

Fool Of Myself | Chapter One | why him?

Chapter: why him?

wc: 1.3k

warnings: none I don’t think

a/n: This is about to be a rollercoaster

| Masterlist | Next |

       ‘It’s been a while,’ Y/n though as she walked down the streets of a familiar unfamiliar place. A deep sigh left her body when she walked past the convenience store they used to stop at on their way home. A small ache placed itself on her heart but she kept walking ignoring the subtle throb. 

“It’s fine,” she said “he’s not here so it's fine.” Y/n kept walking, dragging her suitcase behind her to her parents house. 

      Y/n had asked her parents to let her stay at the house while she had an art show in town. They agreed, telling her that her painting room is still untouched from when she last visited. Y/n felt like something was off with her parents like they were hiding something from her. She thought she was being paranoid. Y/n opened the door to her childhood home filled with pictures of her and her brother Wakatoshi. A small smile graced her lips as she moved to her room and placed her things away. She then makes her way to the kitchen, turning on the kettle to make herself a nice cup of tea. 

      Y/n turns on the radio and starts to hum along swaying from side to side while she rummages through the pantry looking for something to eat. Y/n sighs realizing there was no food in the house. She clicks her tongue and sighs again. “Guess i’ll just have to go shopping then.” Y/n glances up at the clock only 2:15. ‘Hmm maybe I should just go now. It will only take me half an hour. Y/n turns off the kettle and leaves the house. 

     Meanwhile, the Adlers had just boarded their flight back to Miyaji. Or more precisely Karasuno. Kageyama was nervous about going back to Karasuno. There were so many good memories but more recently there were painful ones. HE wasn’t sure if he was ready to open those wounds again. He really just missed her. He wanted more than anything to see her again. To get a second chance. To try and work things out again. Kageyama sat on the plane, milk in hand filled with regrets and dread. He wondered if she was going to be there. He knew she was a successful painter in Paris and she had a gala here for the next few weeks. Does she keep tabs on him like he did for her? Kageyama’s head was racing with questions about how she was. 

      “We are staying at my house. It has enough room for all of us.” Ushijima says once they land. 

      “Is that okay?” Kageyama asks furring his brow. 

      “My parents said it’s fine they are away for the next two month. We are only here for a month. My sister is home. She has a gala coming up but she’ll probably stay in the paint room so we’ll barely see her.” Ushijima says watch Kageyama closely as he says this. Kageyama’s breath hitched and his eyes opened wide when he heard y/n would be there. Ushijima noticed a look of longing glaze over Kageyama's eyes. Ushijima had no idea why Kageyama and Y/n broke up. They genuinely seemed happy together and  he was confused when their relationship ended. Ushijima had developed a soft spot for Kayegama. 

      “You have a sister!!!” Housimi shouted, jumping up and down. 

      “Yes.” Ushijima nodded. “Y/n.” Kageyama shifts uncomfortably but a look of hope flashed across his eyes. Maybe this was his chance to fix things. There were many nights after the break up where he typed out a message to Y/n but always failed to send it. He’d hurt her too bad. Y/n would never forgive him why should she? He broke her heart, right? But for some reason he kept hoping things would go back to the way it used too. Maybe you two had a chance. 

      “Kageyama didn’t you use to date someone named Y/n?” Sokolov asks. “ Isn’t it going to be weird being around someone with the same name.” Kageyama grimaces and the whole team watches him shift uncomfortably. 

       “It shouldn’t be awkward. Y/n is over the break up.” Ushijima says patting Kageyama on the back. 

       “WAIT!” Hoshiumi yells, drawing unwanted attention. “YOUR SISTER Y/N IS KAGEYAMA”S EX AND WE ARE STAYING WITH HIS EX!!!”

       “Hoshiumi you are too loud.” Ushijima nods. “From what my parents have said, Y/n is seeing someone back in tokyo. A doctor I think.” Kageyama grimaces while Ushijima keeps talking. 

      ‘Wait am I too late?’ ‘I should have sent those messages.’ ‘I’m such an idiot.’ Kageyama felt his chest tighten the more he heard about you and someone else. The team could see the look of dread flash through Kageyma’s eyes. 

      “Man, I’m hungry! Let’s go eat!” Romero stretches resting his hand around Kageyama’s shoulder. 

      “I am quite hungry. Let’s head to my house first and rest our stuff down.” Ushijima nods unaware of Kageyama’s growing discomfort. 

      “Sounds like a plan lets go!” Romero chuckles, squeezing Kageyama’s shoulder. Kageyama was silent the whole ride to the house stuck in his head trying to figure out what to say to Y/n after all this time. 

       Meanwhile, Y/n was happily strolling around the grocery store picking up a month's worth of food so that she wouldn’t have to go shopping again while she was here. After Y/n was done shopping they went back home and put away the groceries. She popped her headphones in and started to clean the house while dancing around. Opening windows, dusting mats and watering the plants. Y/n had really missed being home, a wave of nostalgia washed over her as she continued to clean. Y/n was so consumed in her thoughts and music she didn’t even hear the front door open or Ushijima saying ‘I’m home.’ She turned around from placing the cushions back on the couch to be met with a room full of guys watching her. Shocked, she stepped back and almost fell onto the couch. She removed her headphones with a puzzled look after realizing they were her brother's teammates. 

       “Wow, Your sister is so pretty Ushijima-san.” A guy who looked like a bird said jumping up and down.

       “Um… hi.” Y/n mumbles with a small wave. “What are you guys doing here?”

       “Huh?! We are staying here too…” Hoshiumi says confusion clearly in his voice. 

       “Oh there you are Y/n. I didn’t know if you landed already.” Wakatoshi says walking over and patting you on the head. 

       “Oh hi Toshi.” Y/n says grabbing his hand from on top of her head and rubbing the top unconsciously before registering what was happening. “Wait.” She looked around realizing just dawning on her. He was on this team. There’s no way her parents wouldn’t tell her that he would be here. If they had there’s no way Y/n would have stayed here. “I didn’t know you would be staying here.” 

      “Didn’t mother tell you? I knew you were going to be here.” Ushijima says, puzzled. 

      “She didn’t tell me. I thought I would have had the house to myself.” Y/n sighs. “Well I don’t really care, i’ll be in my painting room most of the time anyways. But it’s good to see you Toshi. I’ve missed you.”

      “I’ve missed you too.”

      “I wish I had siblings like that.” Sokolov says fake sniffling. 

      “Oh I must seem so rude.” Y/n giggles. “I’m Y/-”

     Then as if on queue she saw him. Of all the unfortunate things to happen in her life why did he have to walk through your door. Why him? 

      Why? 

      Tobio Kageyama.

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Imposter: Avengers x gn!Reader (1/2)

S.S: I have alot of fics stashed away so Im just gonna kinda post all of them within the next few days. I know not many people have come across my acount so.... Anyways feel free to message me. Ill try and figure out how to make a masterlist so if people actually like my stories theyll be able to find them easier..

Warnings: None, a little itty bit of angst i guess

Word Count: ~1270

MASTERLIST    Pt 2 

==============================================

Brooke Huntington.The newest member to the Avengers. Has the ability to read minds and is an empath. Easy on the eyes, kind to anyone and everyone and yet she gave off an untrustworthy vibe.

She had been a SHIELD agent for the last 4 years before she finally revealed her “secret” in which Fury decided to put her on the team since Wanda was absent. Obviously the guys all feel head over heels for her. It took Nat a week until she trusted her.

Her powers worked through touch, so if she had brushed past someone, noticeably making contact, she’d collapse into emotional shock. Though, being the trained mercenary you are, you noticed the micro-touches that no one else did. Nothing ever happened when her shoulder brushed against someone else's or her finger grazed over someone’s knuckles.

Whenever she collapsed it was usually in front of a few of the men on the team, sometimes with Nat present, but always in front of the guys. You would watch her actions and she would purposefully place her hand closer to the hand of Bucky or Tony, and their fingers would brush over hers and she would collapse causing a frenzy amongst the team. But whenever it was just you and Nat around she would practically hug herself to avoid contact.

The team never listened to your reasonings that she was lying through her teeth, which in turn made you the outcast of the team. But you’d rather be the outcast than be fooled with her lies. It honestly made you sick to your stomach to see the guys coddle her every need, even Nat clung to her which she never did. 

On her first day, Brooke had made the mistake to reach her hand out to you as she introduced herself,immediately retracting it and tried to cover her mistake with a lame excuse. Ever since then you've barely shared more than 20 words. She avoided you and you continued to observe her, picking up every micro-movement she made.

=============================================================

“Come on Y/K/N, Brooke’s making breakfast. She makes godly pancakes.” Steve gushed as he stopped at your door on his way to the kitchen. You could see Bucky and Sam behind him fighting about who she’d rather go on a date with.

“I’ll pass. I don't like pancakes.” you said returning to the open book on your lap. 

“Whatever you love pancakes! We always had them after hard missions. You made them!” Steve exclaimed.

“Ya well, I don’t like them anymore,” you replied blatantly.

“What’s up with you kid? You’ve been acting off ever since Brooke joined the team.” Sam pointed out, pausing the battle of attraction with Bucky.

“Ya, we haven’t really seen you since she moved in,” Bucky added.

“Weird,” you said, emotionless, trying to get past the paragraph you've been stuck on since they arrived at my door.

“Come on. Come have breakfast.” Steve pleaded.

“I’d like to keep my appetite, and I know that if i join y’all downstairs it's gonna be you guys gushing about how good of a cook she is or whatever.” you said, finally turning the trio standing in my doorway.

“Are you jealous, doll?” Bucky mocked. You rolled your eyes at his accusation.

“Get out. Go eat breakfast. I’ll think about coming down.” you told them.

“She’s definitely jealous,” Sam whispered, loud enough for you to hear. You pulled a knife from your side table throwing it at the three, embedding it in the doorframe.

“Get out,” you said again sternly as they looked almost terrified.

The three of them practically ran down the hallway, leaving you to yourself once again. The silence of your room was broken by the hungry grumble from your stomach.

“Ugh.” you groan. “Fine. I’ll go get breakfast but I’m not eating her damn pancakes.” You marked my page and walked to the kitchen.

You gagged at the site once entering. Everyone was cooed and gushing over how Brooke flipped the pancakes, perfectly cooked on each side. You rolled your eyes and moved behind the group to the pantry.

“Hey Y/K/M, want some pancakes?” Brooke asked in her sticky sweet voice.

“It’s Y/N and no thanks. I don’t like pancakes. They’re too sweet for my taste.” you replied coldly as you opened the pantry and pulled out a pop tart, eliciting a whine from Thor.

“Oh, uhm ok.” she stuttered. 

You earned a few hard looks from the team as you bit into the brown sugar and cinnamon pop tart. 

“What recipe did you use for the pancakes?” you asked, ignoring the glares.

“Oh, I wrote it out on a piece of paper before moving in. It was my grandmother's recipe.” She said holding up a familiar piece of paper. It was your recipe.

“Hmm weird. Cause that’s my handwriting.” you said taking the sheet from the counter.

“Oh I guess I grabbed the wrong paper.” her face flushed in embarrassment.

“Ya whatever. If you need me, which it appears you don't, I'll be in my room. If I’m not there then don’t bother trying to find me.” you stated leaving the room, tossing the other untouched pop tart at Thor.

As soon as you left the kitchen, the hushed whispers reached your ears.

“What’s up with her?” 

“I don’t know, she’ll come around eventually.”

“She's just a little jealous. Nothing to be worried about.”

You groaned and walked to your bedroom, changing into gym clothes and going to the gym to let off some steam.

An hour or so later of beating a poor punching bag, the door creaked open breaking your concentration.

“What part of don’t bother me don’t people get,” you grumbled turning to see Brooke in the doorway.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She said, her chocolate brown eyes widening like she was doing puppy dog eyes.

“What do you need?” you asked coldly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I just thought we could talk. Get to know each other a bit?” She offered, stepping closer to you and her voice was an octave higher than usual.

“No thanks, I like keeping to myself. Go find someone else to butter up sweetheart.” you pushed past her towards the towel rack, brushing against her shoulder. You heard her huff in frustration.

“What do you have against me?” she pouted her voice back to normal.

“Me? Having something against you? Never?” you turn to see her face in a scowl and her stance mimicking yours only a moment ago.

“Whatever, you haven’t talked to me since I came here, or even looked my way,” she argued.

“You're the one who has avoided any contact because you know you messed up the first day we met. I have my reasons to keep a distance.” you retorted.

“Whatever. I haven't avoided you.” She scoffed “You've been avoiding me because you're too scared. You're jealous that I’m better than you, aren’t you?”

“No, I don't trust you.” you said closing the distance between the two of you. “I find it odd that a Shield Agent of 4 years just came forward about having ‘powers’ and was immediately admitted to the Avengers. And right after Wanda left.” your voice was menacing.

“I- I don't. What are you talking about?” she stuttered backing away from me, her face flushed red.

“You may have everybody else fooled but I can see through you little act.You’re not that good of an actress. I know a liar when I see one.” you spit, spinning on your heels and leaving the gym.

================================================

S.S: Let me know what you thought! Pt 2 is linked at the top next to my masterlist!

[musetotheworld]

Kara/Nia The two of them take Nia's mom's ship to Naltor. It's a two week trip each way. Both of them are crushing hard on the other, but think it's one sided.

“And you’re sure everything will be okay while we’re gone?”

Nia turns to her luggage to hide her frown as she overhears Kara once more asking Alex about how safe Earth will be in their absence. And she gets it, she does. Ever since Supergirl came out, the world has been nearly ending on a regular basis, most often with Kara right there on the front lines holding it back. Being away for a month has to be a scary thought.

But really, does Kara have to sound so…desperate?

Ever since Nia’s dream about returning to Naltor, Kara has wavered between excited to go and desperate to stay, and Nia doesn’t know what to think at this point. She could go alone, but she’s never been off the planet. She’d barely made it out of the country, never mind the solar system. And she doesn’t have any experience with flying spaceships.

So when Kara’d offered to join her, Nia accepted before thinking things through. And she was grateful for Kara’s help, really she was. Without Kara and Brainy, her mom’s old spaceship would probably still be sitting under a tarp with no fuel and an outdated navigational system. Not the most helpful after a warning she could lose her powers if she doesn’t return to Naltor within the year.

No, Nia is grateful Kara is coming along. Her help will be invaluable, especially since Naltor has a yellow sun like Earth. But she wishes she’d thought about the implications a bit more before accepting, particularly the thought of being stuck on a tiny ship with Kara for two weeks at a time.

Usually, Nia would jump at the chance to spend time with Kara, even knowing her crush is likely to make things awkward if she can’t keep it under control. She knows how awkward it can get when a straight woman realizes another woman is crushing on her, and there is not enough room on that ship to deal with that for a month. Even if they do have their own small rooms, Nia will go crazy if she had to stare at the walls for that long. And Kara is claustrophobic, so it’s not like Nia could claim the main areas for herself either.

Unfortunately, it almost seems like Kara’s already figured out about Nia’s crush. The way she keeps asking Alex about whether Earth can afford to be without two superheroes at the same time stopped feeling like reasonable caution a long time ago. Now it just feels like an avoidance technique.

Even Alex has been a little snippy the last few times Kara asked. At least, Nia assumes she has. Each time the question comes up she tries to be somewhere else, but there have been a few pointed looks that are definitely older sister annoyance. And no matter how many times the topic comes up, Kara still hasn’t changed her mind.

“Is this everything?” 

Nia jumps at the question, falling face-first into a pile of her things. Thankfully it’s the bedding and not the food crates, but it’s still not the image she’d like to present right now. How is Kara, literally the least sneaky person Nia’s ever met, able to move that silently?

Kara looks as embarrassed as Nia feels, and it takes longer than it should to untangle herself from the bedding. That might have something to do with Kara’s help, but Nia is resolutely not thinking about it right now.

“Um, yeah, this is everything,” Nia says when she’s finally back on her feet. “My mom had a few old Naltorian robes that I went ahead and packed, but they’re a bit bulky. Other than that it’s just a few outfits for the travel time.”

Hoping her blushes cool quickly, or that Kara at least assumes it’s only about her clumsiness, Nia turns back to the mess she’d made and begins to pack it back up. She really isn’t going to survive a month of this, is she?

***

Kara’s torn between using her super-speed to load the ship and taking her time. On one hand, getting out of her sooner means no more stares from Alex because Kara’s avoiding potentially uncomfortable situations. But on the other, loading faster means alone on the ship with Nia faster, and Kara’s not ready for that one yet.

Rao, why didn’t she think things through before offering to take Nia to Naltor? She’d been doing so well at avoiding any situations where she might blurt out something stupid like “I think you’re really pretty” or something equally disastrous. 

She doesn’t even know if Nia likes women that way! With the vast array of human (or half-human, in Nia’s case) sexualities, Kara’s never been good at figuring that one out. She hadn’t known humans even had limits on their attraction until her senior year when everyone started to talk in hushed voices about the new teacher who happened to be gay.

And now they’ll be together on Nia’s ship for at least a month, which beats Kara’s record for keeping her mouth shut about anything by at least three weeks. On Earth she usually manages to blurt things out to Alex or James, but on the ship it’ll just be her and Nia. What’s she supposed to do then?

In the end it’s a moot point as Alex, J’onn, and Brainy all help with the loading. With five people carrying boxes, it takes no time at all before there’s nothing left but the farewells.

“You’d better keep things safe while we’re gone,” Kara tells Alex as she pulls her sister in for a hug. 

They have a comm unit set up to allow some communication, but no one is entirely sure it’ll last stand up to the distance they’re going. It’s an outdated model for an outdated ship, and even when it was new it hadn’t been top of the line. They think it will reach Naltor, but the possible presence of anomalies along the route make it impossible for even Brainy to guess. Which means it’s entirely possible this will be the last time Kara can talk to her sister for a month.

Alex smiles at the teasing when she pulls back, reaching to squeeze Kara’s arm. “We’ll take care of everything, don’t worry. You just take care of yourselves. And maybe use this opportunity to actually talk about a few things, hm?”

Ducking away from yet another reminder of Alex’s opinion, Kara takes a deep breath and looks for Nia. She’s talking to J’onn and Brainy closer to the ship, and Kara heads over to join them. At least around other people Alex usually doesn’t tease her too much.

The rest of the goodbyes are quick, and before Kara quite knows it they’re out of the atmosphere and heading towards open space to engage the drives. It doesn’t take them too long, and thanks to Brainy’s updates the auto-nav will handle most of the piloting.

As the drive kicks in, Kara sits awkwardly for a moment before pushing up from her seat. “I’m, um, I’m gonna go get settled in.”

It’s not the most graceful of exits, but it works. And with the trip taking two weeks just to make planetfall, things will be a lot more comfortable if they settle in properly. Digging through suitcases for a month does not sound like a good time.

Getting things unpacked takes a few days, but Kara knows she can only stretch the activity for so long. She’s already almost said something three different times while they were preparing their meals together, and it’s been barely half a week. There is no way she’ll get out of this without making a fool of herself, but that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

Maybe if she reorganizes the pantries for a bit…

***

Putting down her book with a sigh, Nia wonders where Kara’s gotten off to now. It’s such a small ship, but somehow Kara’s managed to avoid her practically since they took off. Other than a few meals together, Nia hasn’t seen the other woman. And even at those meals Kara was withdrawn, avoiding conversation and running off as soon as they finished.

She’s debating whether to suck it up and just ask Kara if something’s going on when a loud thump echoes through the ship, followed by a smaller ‘ow.’ In an instant, Nia is up and heading towards the main areas. At least there are only so many places Kara might be.

Her heart is racing when she skids into the kitchen, taking in the sight of Kara sitting on the floor pouting, boxes of their rations scattered around her. Nothing seems broken, on Kara or their food supplies, but beyond that it takes her a moment to understand what she’s seeing.

“So, we found out how long I can store yellow sun radiation,” Kara says as Nia stares, trying to take everything in. “That’ll be useful in case I decide to shift all the pantry boxes at once on the way back.”

Brushing aside the spike of worry that comes from Kara not having powers, Nia edges carefully into the kitchen. “And why were you reorganizing the pantry?”

When Kara just shifts uncomfortably, Nia feels her stomach drop. Oh. Of course it wasn’t just her imagination, and Kara really was avoiding her. She’d tried to keep her crush hidden, but obviously she’d given something away and now Kara is afraid to tell her the attraction isn’t returned. Kara’s too nice like that, sometimes.

Well, Nia won’t be the one to make her feel bad about this. It’s her crush, her problem, and it’s not fair to have Kara spending hours trying to find something to do just to avoid her.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” The way Kara’s head snaps up at her words isn’t the most reassuring, but now that she’s decided to do this, Nia powers on. “I’ve tried to keep things under control and avoid making things awkward, but it’s obvious that it hasn’t worked, so I’m sorry. I’ll try harder, but you don’t have to rearrange the pantry just to avoid me and my silly crush.”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

Nia pales as Kara’s words sink in, and she realizes she’s misread the situation entirely. And managed to give away her secret anyway. That’s such a Kara move…

“We can totally forget everything about this conversation. I’ll just let you get cleaned up in here.” Making a hasty retreat sounds like the best option here, and Nia is almost out the door when she hears Kara scramble to her feet.

“But I have a crush on you!”

Silence. Nia freezes in the doorway, and Kara doesn’t say another word behind her. For long moments, Nia doesn’t know if words exist anymore. Let alone the right words.

When her brain kicks back in, Nia turns slowly back to Kara. She’s strangely thankful to see Kara looks as flustered as she does. At least she’s not alone. In more ways than one, she realizes.

“So, I have a crush on you, and you have a crush on me?” Kara’s nod gives Nia the courage to continue. “And we were both trying to hide our crushes?” Another nod. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me, not because you realized I have a crush on you and it made you uncomfortable.”

“I wish I’d realized you had a crush on me, it’s been so boring trying to find things I can do on my own. There are only so many ways you can organize your stuff when you’re on bare essentials.” Kara’s embarrassment is fading, and Nia swallows hard when she steps closer. “But now we know.”

“Now we know,” Nia echoes, waiting to see what Kara will do next.

Maybe being stuck on this ship for two weeks won’t be such a bad thing after all.

[the-headbop-wraith]

1 _ 22  Truss and Silhouette

Waiting and patience where two hard traits to master.  Arthur was well versed in the methods of both, he was careful by nature and he had nothing he really looked forward to when waiting.  These attributes where challenging for Vivi, who always found a way to pass the time if they were on the road headed in some direction.  But patience for a specific time to come, and hurrying to do nothing for the duration until that specific time; that was another matter.  Vivi could become too excited, especially when there was no matter to toil over for the here and not soon enough to be.

The temperature continued to drop at an increasing rate, until it was so cold Vivi could hardly stand it herself.  She didn’t know how Arthur could manage it, him being sleeveless and stubborn on the subject of a good coat.  She could sympathize with his reluctance of sleeves, but it seemed like the excuse of covering up his prosthetic for the few cold months would outweigh the negatives.  Arthur couldn’t hide from her the discomfort he felt when people stared too long at his arm, but there was a multitude of reasoning and rational rattling around in his mind that she would never begin to comprehend.  She couldn’t trample that.

She moved back to the driver side seat and curled up, staring out the window and into the contrast of tangling tree branches jutting across the pale sidewalk that encircled the park.  There was wifi and she had splurged on that for a short time, until the laptops battery gave out.  She didn’t keep track of how many ways she enhanced and fooled around with that one picture she took earlier that day.  She had done other things, such as probed into other rumors but none had been as firm, had the same feeling as that little restaurant they had eaten at earlier.  There was only one chance, it was very slim, but it was still there.  A chance.

“I wonder where he goes sometimes,” Vivi murmured.  No answer, but for the halt of metal twittering and clicking in the back.  “I don’t really worry, I should probably, but I don’t feel like I have to.  You and Galaham the same way.”  The clatter and delicate work renews, and she can see the pale shadow on the ceiling of the van just above the seats back.

“I kind of forget to worry about Galahad,” Arthur admits. “It’s terrible, because I should. I trust my uncle with him and everything, but anything can happen to a lil dude if you’re not around.”  He pondered over it as Vivi shifted again, this time perching her legs over the head rest of the driver seat. “Capable.  That’s what I’ll say.  I know Galaham’s capable of taking care of himself, you know Mystery’s the same. Worrying about them doesn’t fit into that.”

Vivi made a sound as she lay in the seat, her head pressed back into the curve of the steering wheel.  “But anything can happen.”

“Anything always happens, and will happen.  Trying to fight it is pointless.”  Arthur set down his tools and studied the portions of the incomplete arm, still insect like with long bundles of wire hanging from the elbow.  “The things I lack control seem pointless to worry over, when I don’t seem to have an immediate influence.”  He looked up and was startled to see Vivi’s glasses gleaming in the light, from the bright glow of the lamp seated beside him while he worked.  She watched him over the seats back with that odd, unreadable expression.

“You’re deep, Art,” Vivi said.  “Did you realize that?”

A moment passed as Arthur tried to register what she had muttered, then he chortled.  “I… had a lot of time to think.”  He fixed his sight back on the prosthetic and did some unnecessary work.  There was progress made but it didn’t feel like progress, it felt empty and only looked interesting.  He gave up and collected the metal and motors, set them back in their box and opened up the compartment in the carpeted floor.  Inside sat stacks of old books, maybe forgotten by Vivi but she had never wanted to part with them in the first place.  He set his supplies and tools among the clutter and shut the door down.

“One day we should put a camera on Mystery’s collar, and just see where he goes,” Vivi suggests.  Arthur brought a blanket with him as he slipped down into the passenger seat. “It’s still too early.”  Arthur sighed and bundled up tighter.  Vivi began to speak, but Arthur cut in saying:

I don’t need a coat, I am fine.”

Vivi huffed and spun around in her seat.  She didn’t mind the cold.  “Fine.  But I was going to ask, what kind of fruit you would be if you could choose.”

Arthur hiccupped and sat up in his tight coil of blankets. “What?”

“I already know I’d be a blueberry,” Vivi stated.  Soft scratching mingled at the metal door, and Vivi unlocked the latch and opened the door for Mystery.  “But what would you be?  A banana?”  She scooted aside and gave the dog room to leap up onto the driver seat with her. “Mystery would be a coconut.”

“A coconut is not a type of fruit,” Arthur grumbled.  “It’s a nut.  Wait… I think?  It’s kind of big.”  

Mystery cocked his head at Arthur, then looked at Vivi.  He left them for an hour, and this is what he came back to?  Vivi smoothed Mystery’s ruffled hair back.  He looked at her and lapped at the few stray strands of hair poking out from under Vivi’s hairband.  I don’t understand.

“I’d be a horned melon,” Arthur announced.  “Those things are cool.”

“Horned melon?” Vivi questioned.  “I’ve never seen one.”

“If we ever go into a none haunted grocery store, I’ll show you,” he said.  “Maybe.” Arthur watched Mystery crawl closer to him and lay over the side of his blanket.  “I hear they taste like banana, anyway.”

“As long as its banana themed,” Vivi replied.  She unfolded from her curled position on the seat and twisted the key in the ignition.  She made sure to turn the heater vents on Arthur and turn the heat up full blast, despite his disapproving glares.  She didn’t care.  Whenever she could directly interfere with his self-appointed misery with little protest, she would do so if only to annoy him.

__

The hour was getting late, it would be midnight in less than forty-five minutes.  She turned to the outdated box monitor and scrolled through the long list of orders, most paid over card, some on credit, and the rest in cash.  She added that to the iPad on the desk, and made a second note on the hard paper notebook on the counter.  She checked the time on the iPad again and sighed.  Outside, a car or two would whoosh by the window every other minute, solidifying perception of the late hour.

“You almost ready?” the voice called.  She leaned back off the counter and looked to the tall teen as he came from the door to the back room, blue stained to his white apron and a white towel draped over his thin shoulder.  “I just finished cleaning the stoves, and the inventories logged for tomorrow.”  He crossed behind the pastry cases and looked into the glassed interior with the many cakes and cookies in their dark rows.

“Almost,” she said.  “Half a page more.  Could you replace the disk in the camera?”  She plucked her purse off the counter and handed it over.

He folded his towel and set it on the counter beside his mom, then took her purse and plucked out the keys that were just inside.  He wanted to tell her about the hits he’d gotten already on the video segment he uploaded, but his mom would just think it was ridiculous that people had actually clicked it.  He gave a little skip as he crossed to the pantry cabinet beside the back door, and opened the tall case where the closed circuit camera was hidden on a shelf. The purse hung loose over his lower arm, while he stopped and ejected the disk.  In the purse was a disk case, with the new disk to be exchanged for the new one.

A muffled song came from the purse, and he reached in to pluck out the small phone his mother insisted was practical and therefore perfect. “Hello?” he answered, as he locked up the cabinet.  “Sorry, I wanted to go ahead and scrub under the stoves….”  He stopped and listened to the voice.  “I will.  Mm-hm. Love ya.”  He stuffed the phone and disk away, then tossed the purse onto the counter beside the heavy set woman.  “Dad says he’s been waiting for ‘dramatic emphasis’ an hour.  Also, he wants one of those ‘Aztec Éclairs’ if they’re still any.”

“Ooh,” she cooed, and shut down the large box monitor.  “Lucky him, there is one left.  But we’re going to share that little delight.”  She folded the iPad up and stuffed it into her purse, and slung the strap over her shoulder.

He took off his apron and folded it up.  “Y’know Bridget was lying.  She can’t cook, much less an éclair.”  He took a wax bag from the box on top of the glass counter and folded it over his hand.  On the glass counter was a large glass dome, typical of most pastry shops, this featured a small note card with the ‘special’ of the day.  His mother approached with a white paper bag, and he folded up the little chocolate stained pastry and set it inside.

“We’ll just let her have this victory for now,” his mother said. “There’s no reason to spoil her fun. Ready?”  He nods, and tucks his apron under his arm.  “Back door locked?”

“And the outside gate,” he assured.

They exit the little space behind the pastry counter and cross to the far side of the restaurant.  His mother unlocks the glass door and steps out into the night, while he reaches out to the light switch—

And paused.

A faint, ambiguous creak emitted somewhere in the room.  He turns and stares back across the shaded tables and chairs, and struggles to see into the dim corners where dark shades tangle. He watched one of the mirrors on the wall as its glossy surface trembles, but there is nothing in the reflective surface but a section of the restaurant and the wall behind the counter. He shrugs as the cold breeze from outside tickles his neck, and he flips off the light and leaves the empty restaurant to join his family.

The minutes tick by, taking ownership in small clusters as the absence of vigor settled in.  Then an hour came by with a steady click or crack of the immovable walls, and swallowed up the collection of time in second strokes.  It was almost appealing to sit and wait and reflect on the pieces that had lost meaning, on the cracks that marred a perfect picture.  Sometimes it felt good to recall the lost shards of what must have been a distant past, but in the same flurry of emotion he felt the resentment for loosing such precious moments.  All things taken for granted, mourned only now when they were no longer his.

He smashed his fist back onto the wall at his back, and felt the solid structure and imposing stature.  He wanted to burn it, drag it out of the world that had left him.  Make it understand.  But a wall was as immovable in nature as it was in physical structure, and anything building on his own personal regret would not make a wall sympathize with him.

It struck Lewis how reminiscing could drag out old want and desires, but it didn’t strike him as odd.  That should have been a first note of warning for him but he didn’t have the sharpness to care, not when his thoughts returned to his mansion, his sanctuary.  It was not often he longed for it, but when he did he felt the hollowness burn into his core and essence, as though a crucial piece to his existence had been abolished. In these times he felt a bitter resentment, though he knew this wasn’t fair.  He couldn’t shake the feelings though, they were branded deep into whatever passed for his ethereal essence.

He shouldn’t be here.  He should have left a long time ago.  But it was difficult to roam and move without a strong sense of destination locked in his thoughts.  He didn’t want to get lost again.

__

Not much was said between them while they waited.  The hours ticked by, even when Vivi was certain she had seen the truck of the owners drive off.  She parked the van down the street from the soup and bakery. Beside her leg was Mystery, keeping warm as she stroked the soft mane on his back, even though the cold didn’t bother Vivi as much as it did Arthur.  Occasionally she would murmur something to the dog, and Mystery would perk a ear or lift his eye brow at her curiously.  Vivi was anxious to move but she knew it was too soon.

It would have been nice if Arthur could have lit the lamp in the back, but he settled for the dull haze of the yellow lamp from the street side, shading through the windshield with its meager orangey hue.  The light catches over the clean side of the metal of his thumb, and the silver clashes over the tarnished surface of the locket. He remembered the morning following when Lewis failed to reappear, Vivi was in the bathroom while he gathered his cloths.  The bundle popped out with one of his shirts and at the sight of the rich color of the satin cloth, it had made his knees go weak and he had fallen hard to the floor.

What was his game?  If Arthur was meant to hand the locket over to Vivi, as he had originally intended, why didn’t Lewis just do it himself?  Or was there another motive at work?  The ghost might have fallen into some kind of trouble, but Arthur knew without a doubt if that were the case Lewis would have gone straight to Vivi. But Vivi wasn’t meant to have the locket, or was she?  Since the mansion – like a far off nightmare – Lewis hadn’t made the attempt to hand her the locket since.  It was Lewis’ anchor, that’s as far as Arthur concluded about it.  If he were more ambitious he might’ve tried to exorcise Lewis, but Arthur didn’t have that kind of strength mentally or spiritually.  But he felt that might’ve been a rational why he wound up with the locket, and he couldn’t blame Lewis for his suspicions.

He ran his thumb along the crease in the side and.  Not for the first time, he was curious to open it and see what was inside.  But he couldn’t do that, he didn’t know if the locket would stay in one piece if he fiddled with it too much, he didn’t understand it.  He shouldn’t even be messing with it.  There was no mistake made by Lewis when he left the locket in Arthur’s bag, but Arthur didn’t understand the implications.

If Lewis was still around.  That remained an inference.  Arthur was skilled at debunking supernatural photography, but he refused to study the picture Vivi had taken.

“Are you ready?” Vivi asks, as she leans up to look into the back.

Arthur bundles the heirloom up carefully and stuffs it back into his pocket.  He pulls the blanket tighter over his shoulders as he shuffles to the front seat, and takes Vivi by the shoulder when she pulls at the door handle.

“I should go in alone,” Arthur utters.  Vivi turns in her seat to face him, Mystery tilts his head back to view Arthur.  “I’ll talk to him, if I can.  This whole mess is my fault anyway.”

“No, it’s not,” Vivi states.  “You’re not going in there on your own and that’s final.”

Arthur averts his eyes.  “Vi, we haven’t really been on our own together,” he murmurs. “Since the mansion.  Never.  Until, that bogus case.”

It hits Mystery first, though he had been keenly observant of their unconscious habits, he had not been aware of the oblivious tendencies of his companions.  He whined at Vivi as she set her hand over his snout, and he nuzzled her palm.

“It was my mistake,” Vivi pressed.  “I should have been paying attention – I got caught up in.. everything – the euphoria, the excitement.  Us, together as a group like old times.”  She stopped there and chewed on her bottom lip, peeling off the miniscule scab there.  Mystery crossed his paws over her lap and leaned up, trying to convey some kind of sound without whimpers.  “I’m sorry for a lot of things, Art, and it’s not fair that you should be the one to go in.” If they stopped for a break Arthur would go off to browse the shelves, but never made a purchase.  He volunteered to run the errands or buried himself in the work on his new prosthetic.  She swung her arm over the driver seat’s headrest and faced Arthur. “I wouldn’t go in without you or Mystery, it’s the same.  We’re doing this together.”

“It’s not.”  Arthur folded his arms over the middle seat and rested his chin over his cold arms.  “Sometimes I think about those crazy jobs we had, even the none paranormal ones.”  He sighed and watched the empty street stretching ahead, the cold glisten of light layered over the thin traces of fresh rain. “A lot of times I thought, ‘This is it. I’ve done it now.  I can’t get out of this,’ and I was scared.  Some loon in a mask, a low kilter spirit, someplace I wasn’t meant to stumble into – I was really bad at that.  Most times I flat out gave up, I’m not ashamed of it.  I couldn’t figure how I could get out of the deep shit I had gotten into.”  Arthur rubbed his face on the loose sleeve of his shirt and glanced at Vivi.  Her face was focused but vacant, as if trying to chase memories that had been lifted out of her grasp.  “But more times than I can remember there was Lewis, at the right moment to get in the way, or drop a sack of beans.”  He gurgled a low chuckle in his throat.  “He had this innate way of catching up when it all… it all seemed hopeless.”  He shut his eyes and tried not to envision that person standing there, and that clear unaltered voice that came with it:

“Arthur, I swear.  How do you manage this?”

He reached down with his metal arm and gave Mystery’s ear a gentle scratch.  “I should save him for once, even if it’s from himself.  I owe him.”

Vivi hesitates, but nods.  “We won’t follow.”  Mystery pulls his head from Arthur’s hand and sets his head down on his paws and sighs.

“I’ll try not to be gone long.”  Arthur drags his way into the back of the van, dropping his blankets as he moves across the floor, but stops when he reaches the back doors.  He grabs his provision bag and knows Vivi must’ve heard his movement, but she doesn’t comment.  He shuts the doors gently behind him and dashes up the street, toward the darkened windows of the small soup shop.

Vivi feels a small bud of panic in her chest but tries to stay calm.  Arthur fades into the shadows, and it feels as if she’s already lost him too.  There is no way to gauge what sort of condition Lewis will be in, even if it was only a short amount time that he was separated from them.  It was a fear that had persisted in her since the mansion, she couldn’t find it in her to pair the two up when they went off on investigations.  She did have a longing desire for restoring and reacquainting herself to someone that she had loved… was it deeply?  Passionately?  But there was that underlining fear was always there, always lingering in the back of her memories.  It wasn’t fair.

“Mystery,” she mumbled, as she curled up into her seat and pinned her chin to her knees.  “Why didn’t I do things different?  What can I do?”

The dog whines and sits up to press his shoulder into Vivi’s and leans on her.  You’re doing everything you can, they’re just being idiots.  He rests his neck over her shoulder and snuggles close to her.

There was a back door into the restaurant, right off from the parking lot that was situated between the two buildings – an office complex and the restaurant.  Arthur saw it earlier that day, and he expected the gate that entered into the small compound to be locked.  He didn’t bother with the lock in the gate, it would be easier to just climb the tall fence, especially when there was no barbed wire at the top.

He dropped onto the top of the plastic dumpster lid and from there leapt down into the grease stained payment, the off scent of spoiled vegetables and bad dairy assaulted his nose.  Arthur slung his backpack off over one arm and opened the zipper a bit, enough to get his good hand in.  He didn’t need light to fish around, but the steady gleam of an overhead lamp gave him enough visibility to view his surroundings.  Everything was done professionally, as he sought the gloves and packet from his backpack, he ran in his mind over all the information Vivi had given him.  They did these sort of jobs… a little too often.

A pair of tight fitting gloves went over both his hands. His prosthetic left no finger prints, but a diligent detective could always distinguish irregularities between fingerprints.  He slung his bag over his shoulders and went along the hard slate wall, until he found the white door.  It had two locks, a deadbolt and hand knob.  No problem.  He leaned his shoulder into the door and fumbled with the small packet, his lock pick kit.  The deadbolts were always easier for Arthur to treble, but the sappy hand knobs always gave him trouble.  This didn’t make since, but if he was ever desperate enough he could always just snap the doorknob off.

The interior was dark and cloudy, the hall narrow and smelled thickly of cleaning fluids and rust.  Arthur didn’t bother with the light, he pulled the door shut behind him and crept through the small room, the basic layout carved by the vague edges of shadows remained fresh in his mind.  A low hum filled the janitorial room, some kind of machine or generator, he wasn’t sure.  He put his good arm out and felt the surface of a wall, then the frame of the door. He had a little more trouble finding the handle in the door, only because it was lower than he expected and he kept missing it.

He sniffed at the air that washed over his face and pushed the door a little more as he entered into the kitchen.  The lingering traces of vegetables and other foods remained, such as crackers and meat, beside the warm aroma of pastries and sweets. He stood for a moment in the doorway gazing at the glittering silver from a distant light, or maybe a memory.

”Arthur! Hello kiddo.  You keeping Lewis out of trouble?”

There were stoves along one wall, countertops in the center.  His feet sounded hollow on the floor, their echo reverberated for years over the walls. The metal felt icy through his gloves, he pressed his fingers into the surface and raised his other hand to his forehead and tried to ease out the ache in his mind.  “I- I’m sorry.  How many ways can I say it?”

”I know you’re not into spicy things, hon.  So I made you this.  It has a tangy aftertaste, but its sweet, pleasant, and not hot at all.  Give it a try.”

He shivered and dropped to his knees.  He hadn’t realized how cold it was.  It had gotten so cold too fast.  Arthur brought his metal hand to his chest and held it there as his heart pulsed, his mind tripped and clawed within his skull.  “I couldn’t stop… I tried, I swear.”  Arthur choked on his words and bowed his head down, cowering from the haunting voices in his mind.  “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.  It wasn’t—”

“Take care of our son.”

He never went back.

__

It didn’t benefit him to go into just any shop, or place. Lewis didn’t fully understand but he had a gist of it, what it meant.  He did get hopelessly lost when he wandered, the same way he did when he first awoke.  Wandering. Is that why spirits became so lost and confused, something about corporal sense, the binding Vivi always spoke about.  He reached his hand up reflexively to touch the heart there, but then recalled that he had given it up and the notion brought about a deep sense of despair, though he wasn’t sure what pained him more.  Which decisions he feared, or which ones he regretted most.

The call had frightened him, and he had fled that place, those memories, what was left behind.  Odd, how he thought he could run away, or venture to a specific destination that in all spiritual theory did not exist.  But it wasn’t what he sought that compelled him, it was the thing he couldn’t release.  He didn’t try to overthink these things, even at his most active.  To him it felt wrong, maybe it was, probably wasn’t, but to him it felt wrong.  Like he betrayed some bitter serenity he had found.

He again looked to the mirror on the wall.  The suit, his ribs, ribs that should not be exposed, a vacant neck collar, and a skull.  Lewis stepped back as the mirror cracked, jagged webs of magenta flared through the gleaming surface and the glass scatters beneath his suspended feet. Oops.  He raised his fist to melt the frame as well, but a sharp bolt in his kinematic range caught his attention.  He drew his fist back and spins himself to the door that led into the back room.  He recognized that jagged sense of distortion anywhere and Lewis debated on pursuing it or keep his distance.

“C’mon Lew, don’t let me just wander around and talk to myself,” Arthur muffled voice raised, echoing, beyond those doors.

Lewis glides to the door that opened into the back room and was about to push it open, but he decides to simply slip through.  He moves along the nearest wall lined with tall cabinets, his attention set on Arthur at the opposite end of the room.  One of Arthur’s hands was gripped to the side of a cold stove set into the wall, his other hand was pressed to his brow.

“I can see why you came here,” Arthur says.  He pushes away from the stove and weaves among the countertop islands, straining to peer through the shadows, his metal hand rests on the corner of a counter and he uses its stability to guide his shaky steps.  He jumps a bit to a subtle tap, what sounds like the pots or dishes hanging on the racks at the wall clatter softly.  He listens, but there’s no other sound aside from the dull hum of the machine.  He spins around and stumbles back, but there is nothing in the open air.  “Jeez.” He raises his hands and presses the cold gloved palms into his eyelids.  “I just want to talk.  Just give me a sign if you’re listening or not, I don’t care.” The dull rumble of the machine mocked him, and Arthur sighed.

“Hate me all you want, Lew.  I can’t fault you for that.  I know….” He paused, and thought over his words.  “I didn’t want to.  You know I couldn’t help it!  I tried, god I tried.  I knew I couldn’t stop, I don’t know what I was thinking, but it wasn’t – It wasn’t me, Lew!  Why won’t you understand that?  Maybe you can’t, I know… I know I don’t.” Arthur drew in a deep breath and brought one hand down, his flesh arm, to the countertop and kept his knees from buckling under his weight.  His head ached, that harsh rasping in his thoughts.  “It’s not just for Viv-vi, but I want to talk again.  I swear… if we just talked, I know it’s not gonna fix what broke between us but – We… drifted apart.”  He shook his head, and lowers his voice.  “I pushed you… away.  Don’t let me do it again.  I can’t take this.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face and tugged at his goatee at his chin.  He gave the room a brief scan, gathering in the calm gloom, the engine hummed obnoxiously. He groaned, despair leaking into his lungs.  “I promised Viv I’d come back with you.”  Promises in their group didn’t really work out, Arthur couldn’t figure out why they kept making that same mistake over and over.  “What am I saying?” No sound answered, his voice echoed

He slipped the backpack off his shoulders and opened it up.  He checked the surface of the countertop before he pulled out a candlestick.  The lighter he bought was still in his, overlooked by Vivi.  Arthur didn’t care, he lit the short wick of the candlestick and let the wax melt at the tip, so he could fix the candle to a spot on the countertop with the warm wax. He took a piece of graphite and pondered a moment, debating on a script that would work, he couldn’t hope to use the stronger runes but maybe it didn’t need to be compelling.  He didn’t think it would work anyway.

He scrawled into the surface of a plastic cutting board, its top crisscrossed and stained by extensive use.  It seemed to fit Lewis.  Circles and sharp angles decorated the board, Arthur set the black polished graphite aside and reached into his pocket, he brought out the satin cloth and the locket contained.  He unwrapped the cloth and studies the bronze coloration under the pale candlelight, the harsh contrast of the metal conflicts with the old gloves he wore. He set the locket in one of the circles and gave the room a last glimpse with his eyes, while the flame burned bright.

“I call out for Lewis Pepper,” Arthur spoke, voice unsteady.  He didn’t feel like he was doing it right, he didn’t feel like he was allowed to do this. It had to violate something, but he didn’t want to overthink it.  “I beseech you to reveal yourself, Lewis Pepper.  I know this is really underhanded, but damnit, you leave me no choice.”  He placed his hand over the locket and raised his eyes.  “We’re not losing you again!  I call upon you with all my heart and soul, Lewis Pepper.  Show—”

“Boo.”

__

After the first five minutes Vivi lost track of time, but she kept resolute to Arthur’s wishes.  She was nervous but didn’t want to admit it.  Had Arthur made contact?  Was he all right?  She worried and fidgeted, and Mystery had placed his paws upon her hands and made soft dog sounds until she calmed down.  He was a strange friend, but he continued to reassure her, despite his shared concerns.  Alternately, she or he would check the driver side window, see no one, and settle back.

The night waned onward, until Vivi could no longer keep her eyes open.  She curled up into the seat, and Mystery had brought to the front with them one of the blankets from the back and piled it over Vivi.  Mystery coiled himself over Vivi’s side, and Vivi tried not to sleep. She wasn’t sure if she had or not, she thought she saw memories of when they were younger – she, Mystery, Lewis, and Arthur.  Going down to the spooky creek, picking flowers (something Lewis liked to do, and Vivi enjoyed it), hanging out with Arthur at his uncle’s shop.  She thought there was a raven once tapping at her window, as she sat in her room reading.  It became irritating when the bird wouldn’t leave, and whenever she chased it off it came back

Vivi jarred from her dry rest and raised her head, her face collided with she sharp cold air that hovered in the van as the sleep clung to her eyes.  She gazed at the driver side window and saw a bird with glossy black wings and a white face tapping at the glass.

“Is she asleep?” That was Arthur’s voice, muffled through metal and glass.  She recognized the way it carried through the door.   The sounds slip away, she wanted to stay with them but it was hard to see past the dark mirror in her memories.

“Just let her sleep,” Lewis said.  He stood aside as Arthur fumbled with his pockets, and finally produced that boo charm keyring.  “I’ll talk to her in the morning when the suns out.”  He hesitates as Arthur unlocks the door and pulls the latch.  “And there are witnesses.”  Arthur chortles softly to himself and steps aside, the dull orange glaze of the streetlamp glistened over Arthur’s metal arm in his short walk to the back doors of the van.  Lewis watched Arthur’s progress until the other ducked out of sight, the clatter of keys raised at the back doors of the van and the more audible thud of Arthur’s prosthetic.  A soft whimper came from Vivi at the intrusion of sound, though Arthur was doing his best to be quiet, Lewis was sure.  He glanced to Vivi buried down under a dark blue blanket.  “I’m sorry, mi arandano.”  Lewis leaned forward and brushed some of the soft blue hair out of her face, and set his palm onto her forehead.  “I’m not your burden.”

Vivi stirs and mumbled some incoherent sound, Lewis was almost certain it was a Latin phrase.  It isn’t long before Vivi settled down and Lewis is able to slip her away from Mystery, out off the driver side seat.  “Lew’s?” she murmurs, eyes opening blearily at the suspended skull.

Lewis bundles the blanket around her tighter and moves along the van to the back doors.  “Close your eyes,” he hums.  “And I’ll be there.”

The van creaks as Arthur plops down in the front seat and maneuvers to draw the open driver side door shut, without a sound.  Mystery gives a small grunt when Arthur bumps his nose while thumping around in the front seat.  Aside from that mild interruption, the dog doesn’t stir to greet the return of his friends.  Mystery gives a sly glare Arthur’s way, before twisting over onto his side.

“Did you mean to get caught in the camera?” Arthur questions, without looking up.  He debated driving the van somewhere else, back to the park, but he could barely see straight let alone coordinate his prosthetic adequately.

Lewis set Vivi on the floor of the van and leans back, pondering. “Camera,” he echoes. “Camera.  When was there a camera?”  Arthur looked into the vans back and found the skulls ember eyes, confused and uncertain, despite how the sharp edges of black contrasted over the bleached white.  It didn’t sit well with Arthur.

“Vi swears by the camera,” Arthur mentions, instead. “Long story short, that’s how we found you.”

Lewis mulled it over as he swung the back doors shut.  The creak of those doors compressing on the dry atmosphere of the van was subdued and irritating, it didn’t suit his desires.  He wanted to feel as if the doors were secure and they would hold off any shape of intruder, the curious or the dangerous.  “I just needed some distance,” the spirit says, voice crackling.  “Time to… think.”  Lewis raised his hand to the front of his coat where the gentle thrum of his locket pulsed.  Its return was indescribable, even if he had left it of his own will.  Or was it involuntary?  He might’ve been compelled too, by a force stronger than his passion and desire.  He didn’t want to rationalize that.  The mental contradiction was almost a physical pang.

“I meant what I said,” Lewis began.  He spun himself and looked at Vivi curled deep within her blanket. Carefully, he reached down to her face for the small lensed glasses and slipped them off.  He gave the colorful spectacles a brief study, before folding them up and placing them within reach at the side of the vans wall.

“So did I,” Arthur muttered.  He pressed his lips into the bench seat and focused on Lewis, on the ribs, the bright contrast and hues of his ethereal outline, melting into the black space of his surroundings as the looming figure rotates in place.  “I wasn’t selling short,” he insists, voice low and rough.  “Honest.  In the mansion, I was ready.”  He shut his eyes when Lewis tilts his skull.  “And you were gonna do it too, you just….  Maybe we should drop it.”

A soft crackle emitted from Lewis, as he lowered down more onto the vans floor.  Some crumpled box in plastic caught his lost interest, and he plucked it up.  “We can always talk,” Lewis offered.

“Oh,” was Arthur’s toneless response.  “Right.  But… it’s hard to translate the stuff in my head.  Always has been.”  He hadn’t lain back on the seat yet.  The blanket he had dragged with him was tangled around his legs and waist while his good arm prodded the latch behind his metal arm.  Droplets of rain misted over the windshield of the van, causing the light to distort into jagged shapes and oblong, glittery jelly beans.  He watched a few drops grow larger and wider before they connected and rolled down the glass in a crystalline thread.  “One of these days.”  He pulled the switch and tensed.  The cold air made it worse, it seemed to amplify the sharp prick that traveled up his spine.  Arthur jerked the immobilized arm free and slung it up onto the dashboard, a mild hope that the morning sun would warm it before he was driven to reattach it.

Lewis wanted to say something more, but whatever way he phrased it the words resounded in his thoughts, accusing.  Arthur’s head slunk down out of sight, and Lewis judged he would be left to his own mediations for the brief/infinite span of the night.

There were decisions but they had no choices.  A choice was a possession but a decision was an action, both were powerful tools if given the right sort of labels.

“I’m more afraid of the emptiness that’s left in your absence.”

That’s how Arthur put it.  It would be hard to go onward and find their routine, their semblance of normality.  Arthur knew why he came back – the sort of personal business Lewis had not made amends with, what lines he had left purposefully blank.  Vivi had gotten in the way.

No, that wasn’t true.  She could never be in the way.  She brought clarity, focus, and guidance.  All things Lewis was lost without and hadn’t known he’d been missing. It was amazing what you miss when you didn’t realize it’s been lost.  That was why this was hardest on Vivi and Lewis was mortified that he had distanced himself in this way.  But, he knew she’d give him what was coming when she awoke.

He was not looking forward to that.

Lewis could enjoy the hours that she was tranquil. He knelt closer beside Vivi and pulled the edges of the blanket up around her shoulders.  Vivi shifts and made a sound that might’ve been pickles, or tickles.  Lewis wanted to feel the smile on his face, but maybe later when he had settled down. Much-much later.

The random patter of rain danced over the roof of the van, raising in acoustic ferocity and then tapering off into a faint hiss.  Lewis studied the roof and the windshield, coated with a thin layer of moisture.  He raised himself from the floor and half stepped, mostly glides as he moved to take his post behind the bench seat, where he usually lost himself while the others rested.  He pulled up short when the end of his coat tail was snagged.

“Lew?” Vivi uttered, voice heavy and groggy.  Lewis spun his skull to view Vivi.  She sat on her knees, one fist rubbed at her eye while the other pulled at his coat. “You’re back?”  She shouldn’t be awake, but Lewis really shouldn’t be surprised either.  “Are you hurt?”

“No?”  Lewis lowered more into her eye level and dipped his skull to his suit collar. “It’s almost morning,” he whispered, the sound of his voice twittered.  “You should go back to sleep and rest while you can.”

Vivi withdrew her hand and rubbed at her shoulders under the thick sweater - cold or discomfited, Lewis couldn’t judge.  “You left.”

“I’m back now,” he assured. Lewis reached his hands out to her but stopped himself.  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”  He didn’t want to say Promise.

There came the contemplative pause, and Vivi nurtured it where she sat without comment.  The rain gently chattered over the vans roof, a cage to bar out the unwise, the wicked, those that were desperate enough to be out in the harsh veil of frigid water.  Vivi brought her hands up to her face.  She would have done this even if she were wearing her glasses, and pressed her fingertips into her eyelids.  Lewis waited, feeling bitterness toward himself.  “It’s really cold,” she murmured.  “Could you just rest with me, for a change?”  Lewis didn’t move.  Vivi slides her hands down her face and looks up into his eye sockets.  “I don’t want to wake up and you’re not there.”

That other side of him was scared.  The fragments of him that remembered Vivi, and let her cool waves crash over his fever driven fire.  Maybe in time, if Lewis just gave himself a little more time, the indecision and doubt would clear away.  It wouldn’t confuse him, and he would begin to find this balance in this niche among friends, where once he had been forgotten.  But he didn’t need to concern himself over those bits and pieces that scattered in his grasp, he only needed to know he was wanted and needed.

“I’ll be here,” Lewis’ voice crackled.  He couldn’t promise, but he knew he would be.  He lowers down beside Vivi and put his arms around her, and she leans onto his chest as he lies down.  

She mumbles some incomprehensible words, and Lewis rattles with confusion.  “I said,” she whispered, “don’t think I’m just letting you off easy.”

It takes a moment for the words to register in Lewis’ thoughts, and the embers dim in his eye sockets as he settles his skull over Vivi’s bright hair.  He coils his arms around her and soothed out his thoughts, distancing each reflection from his solidified state of presiding existence. “Have mercy on anyone that tries to tear me away,” Lewis crooned into her hair.  

Vivi sniggers, and buries her face in his chest.  “I missed you,” she said, her fingers tightening on his suit collar.

“I don’t know if I deserve you,” Lewis hummed.  But Vivi was already beyond the point of no return, her arms loose against his coat lapels and her breathing so subtle Lewis could scarcely detect it.  “Please.”  He coiled himself around Vivi’s smaller frame, shielding her from the cold air and the dark shadows that pricked at his coat edges – impenetrable, steady, and wholly present.  “Forgive me.”  He let the mild purr of his voice carry into something more human, and harmonized it into tender hymns.  The gentle trill never faltered as the hours crawled by, calculated in obscure notion by the passive thrum of Vivi’s heart.  Though he could make himself appear almost human, almost alive, the heavy rhythm within his chest was something he could not artifice.  But for this meager span of time in the present, Lewis could be content to hold Vivi close to him and feel her heart beat through his soul.

[manggojooz]

Foolish Love, Fake Love (Part 3)

pairing: idol!Jungkook x bodyguard!reader

word count: ~1,800

genre: idol!au; angst; romance; drama; enemies to lovers sort of thing

warnings: none

previous part: Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

summary: If all you can give me is a fake love, then I will be the fool to pretend that it is all true.

comments: sorry if the chapter is a bit short haha but im trying to get myself back into writing in baby steps =) pls comment or reblog if you liked this <3 

How do you explain love? Is it a feeling? Is it an agreement? Is it an experience? 

---

The day felt like months.  

You were using Yuri’s phone to surf the net, her nose poking into the side of your chin as she leaned against your shoulder, trying to read the tiny words on her phone too.  

“When are you getting your phone back?”, Yuri asked soullessly.  

“Whenever the reporters stop calling, I hope...”, you answered. As though on cue, Sejoon bursts into the waiting room, causing Yuri to knock her forehead into your cheekbone when she abruptly shot up straight.  

Sejoon dragged his feet along as he approached your side and held out a handphone for you. “Use this phone in the meantime, I've saved a few contacts in it for you. And Director Lee wants to see you for a while”, he said sheepishly.  

You handed Yuri’s phone back to her and Sejoon caught a glimpse of the article you had been reading.  

---

As you made your way to the higher floors of the BH building, the lift ride was silent and awkward. Half a day has since passed after Rapid released the exclusive article confirming that Jungkook was dating you. Sejoon suddenly blurted, “I suggest you don’t read any of the articles...”  

You looked at him silently.  

“You know the saying right... a pen is mightier than a sword... in this case, a keyboard is definitely mightier than a gun”, his tone was serious yet soothing at the same time.  

“I know... I won’t take the articles or the comments too seriously”, you said almost nonchalantly.  

He shook his head slightly, “it’s easier said than done, Y/N. It’s better if you just don’t read them at all”, he stared ahead as he nagged gently at you.  

Somehow you felt a tinge of warmth from the situation, which softened the otherwise difficult and draining day.  

---

“Since it doesn’t make sense for you to be a bodyguard anymore, we just said you are a staff member. But let’s be clear, you are not qualified to do any other job so your job will still be the same. In fact, now you have more to guard...”, Director Lee was rambling on more than she usually would.

You only nodded in response. For some reason, since the earlier part of the day you have felt like you no longer own a voice. It is as if you had given your tongue to the sea witch but in return you got a fake prince.  

“We have put all the policies in place to ensure employee confidentiality on this situation. But since you are a lead character in all of this, we believe it calls for a little more documentation...”, she fumbled around, tossing files around her desk. It was the first time her room seemed a little messier than it usually would be.  

Her assistant who had been standing next to her this whole time, meekly pointed towards a black thin folder resting under her elbow. “Alright, I got it”, she snapped. 

She opens the folder and tosses a document in front of you. “Sign it”, she instructs, and her assistant almost immediately holds out a pen to you.  

You stare at them with a puzzled expression and Sejoon, who had been standing in the far corner of the room, peers over in concern.  

“I’ll read through it first...”, you were hardly even batting an eyelash at the whole situation now. After all the entire day has been incredulous on top of more incredulity. 

Director Lee scoffs and was about to say something when Sejoon swoops in, grabs the document as well as your arm, hurrying to pacify the executive, “I will explain it all to her quickly and will get it signed by the end of today, Director Lee.”  

---

“Clause 4.3, basically it’s just saying that this arrangement will be for an initial three months from today, and the management can decide whether to shorten or lengthen this term. Clause 4.4 says that you shall not speak about this arrangement with anyone outside the company...”, Sejoon was rattling all the terms written in the contract.  

“... Clause 5.2...”, he paused and cleared his throat while scratching his forehead, looking rather uneasy, “... Clause 5.2 says that you cannot fall in love with Jungkook... ummm... I can’t read the rest of it to you, it’s too cringe for me... anyway point is that you should just stay professional ok?”, Sejoon gave you those little sheepish glances he was always so good at.  

“What if I break any of these terms?”, you asked outrightly with folded arms, sitting across from Sejoon in the tiny pantry reserved for staff members.  

“Ummm... let’s see”, he flips to one of the pages at the back, “here... you gotta return all the advance payment made to your company and its employees... meaning the payments made to Ssam Chun and Yuri too... and there’s a penalty sum”, Sejoon pauses again. “But Y/N, I hope you know this isn’t what should be of concern right? If you get into the bad books of the management, it’s not going to be just paying back all these monies.”  

Sejoon was right, the power and influence that a relatively large company like BH would have, cannot be summarised in just monetary terms.  

“I’ll think about it...”, it all made you more reluctant to sign off on that stupid contract.

“Y/N, there isn’t much of an option here...”, Sejoon said but he still handed the agreement to you, knowing you probably needed some time to come to terms with it.  

---

You clenched the contract tightly in one hand and walked down the long corridor. This feeling was indescribable, you were confused, you were alone, you were afraid  – it just felt so wrong and your entire body felt the weight of it. 

You were trudging along towards the lift lobby when you think you heard Jungkook’s voice coming from a room further down. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but as you approached the room you heard a woman’s voice too.  

“No Jungkook, it’s ok... I have no right to meddle in your private life like that”, she said coyly and you recognise that it is Yeonjoo’s voice. She had a distinct tonality when she spoke, and people often praised her for it – it was somehow cute and cool at the same time but not unnatural sounding.

“What do you mean, Noona?”, Jungkook sounded taken aback.  

“I mean... if you are really dating her, I should be.. no, I am happy for you... I really shouldn’t have come down here today... but I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened the other night and I hope nothing has changed between us...”, her voice was getting softer and you had to strain your ears to hear what she was saying.  

You rolled your eyes, “she’s good”, you thought to yourself. This was a classic example of managing her fish farm and Jungkook was one dumb fish trapped inside. It's not that he can’t leave, he willingly does not leave, and she sure seemed bent on making sure it stays this way.  

“No, Noona... you have no idea how grateful I am that you came down. They took my phone away since this morning and I've been stuck here wondering how I am going to explain all this to you... She’s really our new bodyguard, I mean... staff member... I didn’t even know her name before today! So how can it be possible that I am dating her?”, Jungkook was exasperated.  

To think about it, half the people you have guarded before probably do not remember your name. Yet now he remembers you, even though it is for one of the worst reasons ever.  

Just when Yeonjoo was going on about Jungkook not having to explain himself to her, someone taps your shoulder, giving you quite the shock and you lunged backwards almost hitting him in the process.  

“Oh it’s you! You gave me a shock!”, Kijin exclaimed.  

“Look who’s talking”, you mumbled snidely, glaring at the man who landed you in this situation in the first place.  

“Oppa? Is someone outside?”, Yeonjoo called out.  

Kijin gestured for you to enter the room, as though saying ‘would you rather go in yourself or have me drag you inside?’

The moment you entered, Jungkook visibly tensed up.  

“Were you eavesdropping on us?”, his frown was so deep that you started getting a little nervous.  

“I was just walking past, and I heard your voice so I wanted to see if it’s a good time to talk because there’s something-”, you were making an attempt to explain yourself.  

“There’s nothing to talk about between us...”, he cut you off promptly and continued frowning, his tone was very hostile.  

“Jungkook, there’s no need to talk to her like that...”, Yeonjoo gently chided him, “she probably isn’t happy about landing in this situation either, just like how you are feeling.”  

Jungkook lets out a light chuckle, “Apparently her handphone wallpaper is a photo of me... so I really don’t think she’s feeling what I’m feeling right now”, he said rather dejectedly. This somehow piqued Yeonjoo’s attention.  

“So you are a fan?”, her eyes were already pretty huge but it got even larger, “wow... and will you still be following Jungkook around for his schedule after all the... news?”  

“Seems like it... it’s still my job to do it...”, you answered earnestly, regretting coming towards the room at all.  

“You must really love your job”, Jungkook suddenly turned sarcastic and you felt a twitch in your chest.  

“I do...”, you tried to keep up that professional posture but was sure that your insides were tangling up slowly.  

“Even if your job is making a fool of you like this?”, this was the longest Jungkook had ever looked at you in your eyes.  

“I’d rather be a fool”, you answered.  

“As opposed to a ---?”, he asked, still with the same annoyance he had when you had entered the room.

“As opposed to a liar...”, you thought to yourself.

You decided to face the situation and his concerns head on. "Yes, I like you as a fan, but it won’t become anything else just because of this situation.”, you said as you put down the contract on the desk before them, flipping to Clause 5.2.  

“Love is not an arrangement, and it can never come from a contract. This...”, you tapped the agreement slightly with your fingertip, “this is not love. And I'm not foolish enough to believe it is. So, you really need not be worried about it either. If nothing else, just know that... as a fan, I want you to be happy at the end of the day.”  

“And I will be... if you can keep that promise...”, Jungkook replied after glancing at the page laid opened before his eyes. To say his words didn’t hurt you would be a lie, but there was also a sense of relief that at least he killed any hopes before they could be groomed. 

Without answering him, you picked up a random pen from the notepad holder in the middle of the table and signed your name at the end of the document. 

---  

Love is a promise.  

And you promised, never to love him.