#boy did i have to hold myself back from impulse buying that this morning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

But then his dreams start to take a dark turn, though he doesn��t notice it at the start.

There is light dancing on the edge of his eyelids, and when he blinks he finds himself in a field of never-ending gold. ‘You’re obsessed with flowers ’ he teases her, leaning on his hands to allow the breeze to ruffle his hair and whisper long lost secrets in his ear.

‘But they’re so pretty. It’s like they were put on this earth by the gods to remind us that life can be beautiful, after all.’

‘Now who’s being poetic, hm?’

‘Don’t tease! I’ll give you a more prosaic reason then. I’ve loved flowers ever since I worked for a florist after mum died to earn a little money on the side and ended up falling in love with the look on people’s faces when they buy flowers for themselves and the people they love. ’

‘Why don’t I see you work at the florist shop then? ’ He frowns, thinking of the bustling, cosy little shop in the town square owned by Hana-chan’s mom.

‘It didn’t work out’, she says simply. ‘Well, never mind that. Just shush and bask in the sun, let the sky gods weave rainbows into your dreams’.

Her words linger in his mind, and he foolishly finds himself searching for rainbows in the sky the next day.

‘Listen to the sky, Keiji ’, she calls, her laughter like birdsong. ‘ Do you think the wind will answer our prayers today?’

‘You answer my question first ’, he grumbles. ‘Hana-chan cornered me at school to scream at me to mind my own business again. Does that have anything to do with the bruises I saw on your arm last week? What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into when I’m not around? ’

‘Nosy, nosy Keiji ’, she teases, and he knows she’s just deflecting his concerns again. ‘You’re just overthinking things again’.

‘Promise me you’ll be careful’, he pleads. ‘Promise me you’re not doing anything stupid‘.

‘Stop worrying, silly boy, I promise I’ll be fine’, she murmurs, her voice lost in the wind.

‘You need to tell me what’s going on, you can’t go on like this at this rate’ , he hears himself say, desperation laced in his words.

He looks down. There is a tapestry of mottled bruises and angry welts on her arms, paint strokes of yellow and blue and purple and red that is gut-wrenching in the violence it implies.

‘It’s not my secret to tell, Keiji’ , she says, unwavering.

He wakes up, the pit in his stomach slowly filling up with dread. His dreams are turning out to be less like a shojo manga, more like a thriller that he suspects will give its protagonist a terrible end.

'Have you been a good friend to Hana-chan these days? ’ the man asks, an unfriendly smile playing on his lips.

Akaashi (or rather, him in her – though she’s in here somewhere too so it’s a little confusing) frowns, but accepts the box of vegetables and eggs held out to him anyway. ‘I suppose’, he answers, the load heavy in his arms, and the man seems to accept his response, humming an offbeat tune.

‘Well, I hope you can keep a secret, sweet girl’ the man laughs, tossing his cigarette butt on the grass before walking away. Sparks smoulder in the dry grass, and Akaashi hurries to balance the box on his hip before stamping them out.

‘That’s Hana-chan’s father, Nakamura-san ’, she tells him, voice strained. ‘I need you to act normal around him, got that?’

‘Might need you to find me the definition for your normal’ he says drily. ‘That word’s lost its meaning to me these days ’.

He hears her chuckle, but she doesn’t sound amused.

Hana-chan corners him when he’s in her body and he’s stupid enough not to notice the fist that swings his way.

‘I told you, you little creep’, she snarls, her nails digging into his arms. ‘I told you to stay the fuck away from me, but did you listen? No! I saw you last night, creeping around my family’s house with that stupid phone of yours – did you really think I wouldn’t notice you? I’m warning you to stay away or I will fucking end you, got that? ’

And she spits in his face, and he’s still left trying to make sense of the sting of cold liquid on his cheek when burning hands shove down the stairs. Concrete and human flesh clashes, the victor already predetermined, his body wracked with pain as he lands heavily, face down on the floor.

‘Last warning to stay away, you creep’, she shrieks before turning on her heel. There are no other students in the deserted hallway – not that anyone would come to help, not from his experience.

‘Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to piece your secrets together myself?’ he demands, when he scrapes himself off the floor, body aching from bruises in full bloom.

He can hear her breathe a sigh. ‘It’s a long story’ , she finally says.

‘Right now, all I have is time’ he answers drily. ‘Try me ’.

So she tells him about taking a part time job with Hana’s mom, the town’s florist for some extra cash. She tells him about the noises she hears whenever Hana’s mom steps out of the store, faint echoes of whimpers and sobs and broken cries for help, and how she puts two and two together when she sees the bruises on her classmate’s arms and legs. Her voice shakes when she tells him what she saw when she stole upstairs towards Hana’s bedroom one cloudy afternoon, how Hana’s dad gets off on hurting his teenage daughter, how she tried to report what she saw - but who’d believe the words of a teenage girl over the town mayor .

‘And now he’s taking it out on Hana-chan, which is why she hates me but I’m not going to let him stop me’, she tells him stubbornly and he can hear his past self gulp.

‘Are you insane? You shouldn’t get yourself involved. Tell someone, anyone. If you continue like this, you’re going to get yourself killed at this rate’.

‘Stop being a worrywart, Keiji! ’ she laughs, but the sound is hollow. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise’.

She’s back at the forest shrine, holding her hands together in prayer. The mangled remains of dandelions lie beside her knees, decapitated flower maidens sacrificed for wishes that they both know won’t ever come true.

‘I told you no one will listen to me, Keiji’, she cries, her face buried in her hands. ‘They all think I’m a little child who’s making up stories for attention ’.

‘There’s nothing you can do unless you have a record of it. Just keep your head down, or he’ll come after you next. How many times have I told you not to set yourself on fire to keep others warm? ’

Her head shoots up, and a feral grin ignites like wildfire on her face. ‘That’s brilliant, Keiji! ’

‘Wait no - that wasn’t meant to encourage you – that was meant to be metaphorical!’

‘If it all works out, it’s because of you! ’ she runs off, throwing her head back as she laughs, challenging the wind to catch her if it dares, before disappearing further into the woods.

‘You have got to be kidding me ’ he groans, kicking off the blankets to stare at his or well, her legs in horror. Dried blood is still caked into the deepest scrapes on her legs, and he can feel the ache from the bruises deep in his bones. ‘What on earth did you do?’

‘I may or may not have slipped when I was scaling Hana’s drainpipe’ .

He can feel the vein in his temple start to throb. ‘You what?’ he bites out.

‘They didn’t see me, I swear!’

He groans in despair this time, dropping his head in his hands. What is he supposed to do with someone so ridiculously obstinate?

‘If anything happens – ‘ she begins to say but he cuts her off before she can complete her sentence.

‘You promised me you wouldn’t do anything remotely risky and I refuse to let you put yourself in danger again. ’

She sighs, and worry flickers like a flame in his heart.

‘Fine – just. If anything happens – ‘

‘Which it won’t, not on my watch’ , he tells her firmly.

The smell of smouldering ash hits his nostrils.

His eyes fly awake. He’s back in the old wooden house again, but he chases his curiosity to the front yard, where he finds the letterbox razed to the ground.

‘A warning to stay out of his business ’, he hears her say, her voice determined. ‘But I’m not going to be spooked just by that. ’

‘You promised to be careful’ he shouts, properly angry this time. ‘Look at what you’ve done! ’.

‘I refuse to be a bystander to his madness’, she screams back. ‘I'd be tarred by his sins if I choose to do nothing about them. ’

His shirt is soaked in cold sweat when he stumbles out of bed, slapping his palms against his face to reassure himself that he’s not back in the dreamscape.

‘It’s not real. It can’t be real’, he tells his reflection firmly, but his mirror self only stares back at him.

In the morning, he skips class to make a trip back home, intent on leaving the omamori where it belongs, back in his childhood bedroom, so he can look forward to adulthood without these ridiculous dreams clouding his way. He stops by the florist on the way, as is his usual practice these days.

‘Flowers for your mother?’ the florist asks, when she opens the shutters to greet him, her first customer of the day.

‘Yes’, he answers shortly, and on an impulse he adds (because he needs something to fill the newly empty space on his desk) - ‘and maybe a houseplant. Something that’s relatively easy to take care of would do the trick.’

She hums in thought, fingers busy tying ribbons in the bunch of yellow roses for his mother. He doesn’t need to ask to know that the baby’s breath she includes is on the house.

‘What about rosemary?’ she suggests.

‘For remembrance?’ he asks, wrinkling his nose at the reference to Hamlet. The sudden thought of poor, mad Ophelia, floating dead in a stream, water lilies in her hair hits a chord that’s a little too jarring. ‘Um. Maybe a cactus might be better instead.’

He wonders if he’s imagining things, but he catches a flash of disappointment on her face before she replies easily - ‘sure!’, bending down to pull out a grumpy looking bulb full of thorns. Then she waves him off, his purchases packed in a neat brown bag. ‘Please come again!’

The cactus replaces the omamori, sitting neatly on his desk. It refuses to die even when he forgets to water it for weeks at a time.

Taglist:

@bongofrito

@forgetou @animeflower26 @kageyamakock @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

55 notes · View notes

acnelli · 4 years ago

Text

The Speech

Hermione becomes the first female Minister Of Magic, so Ron has to hold a speech about it.

Just in case you’re wondering...I was never very interested in Pottermore or anything that got published after DH, so there might have been a female MoM before Hermione but I think this little detail is not important to enjoy the story ;-) I also don’t really see Hermione as a MoM. For me Hermione works at the Ministry, creating and pushing for laws to protect and improve the life of those oppressed and fighting for equality. But I liked the idea of a very nervous Ron talking about his wife in front of a huge crowd.

You can also find this story on FFN and AO3.

I'm so screwed.

This sentence was stuck like a mantra in his head ever since Kingsley talked him into this nonsense.

Who in his right mind would want him, Ron Weasley, to hold a speech? Sure, it was his wife that becomes the next Minister of Magic and she also will be the first female one. Which makes him the first husband to hold a speech about the new Minister.

But why couldn't they just skip this stupid tradition?

Not that he wasn't able to talk a lifetime about Hermione. But he sure wasn't ready to talk about her in front of half the Ministry, his entire family, a bunch of friends and not to forget these annoying press people.

Ron was fairly confident that he would say something stupid. He was Ron bloody Weasley after all and if anyone would describe him to a stranger this would be in his character description: Saying and doing stupid and/or inappropriate things.

Kingsley was about to end his speech and Ron knew that it will be mere seconds before he was called up to the stage.

Oh Godric, please don't make me embarrass myself in front of my children.

He thought back to this morning when his fifteen-year-old daughter made him a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

"Don't worry, Dad. You will do just fine. And please eat something." Hugo said, as he shoved a slice of toast at him. He picked his breakfast up and even took a bite, mainly to appease his son.

Hugo stared at him, determination and worry on his face. It never failed to amaze Ron, how much his son was like Hermione, both in looks and character.

Ron sighed and took another bite before shoving the plate away from him. "I' m sorry, buddy. Might eat this backwards if I'm having one more bite."

He sipped his sweet tea and wondered why the hell he was such a nervous wrack. It was the Quidditch games at Hogwarts all over again.

Ron thought he was over his insecurities, but old habits die hard, right? Looking at his two children made him feel a tiny bit lighter though. They both got his ginger hair and freckled skin with the tendency to get burned easily when out in the sun. Hugo got the warm brown eyes of his mother, Rose Ron's blue orbs. Rose sat beside Ron on the kitchen table, sipping her own tea. She was already in her dress for the ceremony, her long wild locks pinned up at the nape of her neck. She rarely touched her breakfast. Ron knew she was feeling the same anxiety he felt. Two years ago, during summer break, Hugo told Ron that Rose never eats breakfast before a Quidditch match and would sometimes spend the better part of these mornings in the bathroom. Rose was in many ways like him. She was funny, loved Quidditch, normally eats on behalf of a whole Quidditch team and had a temper similar to Ron's. Thank Godric, she got the brains of her mother.

None the less, she could easily comprehend what Ron was going through.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome Ronald Weasley.", Kingsley announced and stepped back for Ron.

He took a deep breath before he finally entered the stage and went to the podium. His family clapped excitedly in the front row, even cheering for him. He looked over to Hermione, who smiled and winked at him. Of course, the whole Weasley family joined the festivities today to celebrate with Hermione. They were all sitting in the second and third row along with his parents-in-law, who looked both proud and just the tiniest bit nervous.

For a short second he feared, that his impulsive decision from this morning. to ditch his sorry attempts of the prepared speech, was probably the worst decision of his life, but when the applause died down, he hadn't much time to panic over it. So, with a final deep breath and a look into Hermione's eyes, he started to speak.

“Th- thank you”, he said after the applause died down and tried not to flinch about the noticeable tremble in his voice.

“Well, as tradition demands, I'm expected to hold a speech about our new Minister of Magic. Speeches are not exactly my strong point and, in all honesty, I dreaded this moment ever since Kingsley asked me to hold it.” Ron threw a pointed look at the former Minister who just gave him an innocent smile.

Over the soft laughter of the audience, Ron heard a snort and quickly located the source. Harry was smirking at him and Ron supressed the urge to flip the tosser off. He hated The Daily Prophet with a passion, but for this headline he might forget about his principles for a day and actually buy this piece of garbage. Nevertheless, he decided against it, mostly because he didn’t fancy to be on the receiving end of some rather nasty hexes performed by his wife and mother.

“Some of you might be surprised to learn that I haven’t prepared this speech during todays breakfast, but for the better part of the last weeks evenings. Though certainly not perfect, I thought the outcome was quite passable. But last night I went over my words and realized that I would tell you things about Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley that all of you already know. Actually, you could have found the better part of my words on a chocolate frog card. Instead, I would rather tell you about the first day Hermione and I met.”

As Ron let his gaze wander over to his family, he saw a smiling but slightly puzzled Hermione looking at him. “The day I met Hermione was, of course, the very first day at Hogwarts. On the train ride I already met Harry Potter. You’ve probably heard about him at some point, saved the world or something like that. Anyway, in that train compartment Harry and I immediately became best friends and while we stuffed ourselves with a ton of sweets, a girl opened the door to our compartment, asking us about the lost toad of a fellow student. I was showing Harry some useless spell my dear brothers told me about, that of course, did not work. This girl though, performed an actual spell just perfect and informed us that she read every first years school book over the summer as preparation for our upcoming classes. Sure enough, she outshined everyone in every class and there wasn’t a teachers question she had no answer to. Back then and especially on that first day, I could never imagine to be friends with Hermione Granger. I thought that she’s a bossy know-it-all and on Halloween, two months after our first day at Hogwarts, she heard me calling her just that. As an eleven-year-old boy, it never seemed possible to me that Hermione could be sincerely hurt by my words. But of course, it upset her. Very much.

That being said, I’ll never regret these nasty words, because this Halloween night was the beginning of a life-long friendship between me, Hermione and Harry. If I hadn’t said that in front of her, she would have never locked herself up in the bathroom to cry and Harry and I would have never ran to this said bathroom, because a mountain troll was wandering the halls of Hogwarts and Hermione was the only one who hasn’t been warned about it. Ever since the three of us beat that troll, I could not imagine a good day without Hermione as a friend by my side. She still nagged us about doing our homework and scolding me for swearing too much and said things like ‘Ron, it’s Hermione, Harry and I’, but when I look back, the unhappiest times were when we didn’t speak to each other or when I wasn’t able to talk to her.”

He paused for a brief moment as surely the darkest time of his life came to mind, when he abandoned Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt, his heart full of pure fear and hopelessness when he thought he would never see them again. Or the weeks of Hermione being petrified, as he could still see this young red headed boy talking to her in the hospital wing, desperately wanting her to tell him off for staying out after curfew.

“Hermione did and achieved a lot of great things in her life. Most of these things you might already know, like her helping to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters or her success in freeing the House Elves. Although these are amazing and exceptionally brilliant achievements, Hermione is so much more than the brightest witch of our age and a war heroine. Did you know that the beginnings of her efforts to free House Elves lay in our Hogwarts years? Back then, she started a campaign to free them and it didn’t stop her, that for a very long time, it had been a one-woman-movement. Her courage and ambition to help the defenceless and her undying sense of justice are exceptional and even more admirable, if you consider, that as a Muggleborn, Hermione had been in great danger herself, being the main target of Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Regardless what she went through herself, she never stopped to look out for others, especially her family and friends. And this is what she’ll continue to do as the leader of Wizarding Britain. Hermione will fight for a better life for everyone, for all of you and for those, whose suffering is still invisible to us.

I once read an article about Hermione inheriting the title of the brightest with of our age. It said, that she sure is intelligent, but mainly book smart. If you ask me, a person, who is simply book smart could never use the knowledge in real life, right? Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Hermione’s quick thinking and brilliance at everything she does, saved Harry’s and my life more times than I care to admit. Even in the most dangerous and horrible situations she was in, her highest priority had been to keep us safe.”

I was wrong. These were the darkest hours of my life., Ron thought and Hermione’s screams echoed through his mind.

“Hermione saved me in more than one way. She taught me self-worth and confidence, which, especially as a teenager, I hadn’t much of. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was there for me when I needed her the most. And the best thing of all: for some unbeknown reason, she loves me. And in the end, this makes me the luckiest bloke in the world.”

For the next words Ron looked only at Hermione, who gave up to hold back her tears for quite some time now. “Befriending you had been the best thing I had ever done. I heard a lot of people say that they married their best friend. Well, I certainly did. We went through so many adventures -good and bad- together and I`m happy to say, that the good ones outweigh the bad ones big time. I love you, Hermione and I`m ready for this next adventure to come our way.”

#romione #ronmione #hermione granger #ron weasley #hugo weasley #rose weasley #hugo granger-weasley #rose granger weasley #weasley family #granger weasley family #minister of magic #my fic #my fanfiction #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

actuallylorelaigilmore · 4 years ago

Text

TATMILB, CHAPTER 3

Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn’t seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.

Chapter 3: Penelope tries to bond with Alex during movie night; he and Lydia bring the family’s donations to Goodwill. Schneider returns from vacation and confronts Penelope. She panics.

While Schneider was away with Nikki over the weekend, Penelope splurged on a trip to the movies--luring Alex with the promise of food he didn’t have to sneak in.

She was trying to focus on silver linings instead of her anxieties about Elena, and the upsides included her new availability for Alex. Twice as much parent to go around could only lead to more bonding, right?

He had lobbied for an R-rated comedy, which she was definitely not willing to pay for. On her own, she would’ve headed right for the newest Bradley Cooper drama, but no amount of chocolate could convince Alex to sit through that.

So they compromised on an action movie--which would have the added benefit of covering up the sound of her soda later. Agreeing to buy concessions for Alex didn’t make her a different person. Her discount snacks were better than their overpriced junk, anyway.

He grinned at her over his bucket of popcorn while they waited for the lights to go down, and she considered her bribery a success. See, she could be the cool mom. Even if she had Raisinets in her cargo pants.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still miss Max?”

Where did that come from? The question hurt, mostly because it was so unexpected. With Max exiting her life right before Lydia’s stroke, neither Alex or Elena had mentioned him much in the last year. They’d all had other things on their minds.

She let the pain pass by before she answered.

“Yes, Papito, I still do. It’s hard to let go of people you love. Sometimes, a part of you misses them even after you’ve moved on.”

He nodded, sipping his soda.

“Do you think you’ll start dating again anytime soon?”

That question was even more out of character for her son, whose world had been so often self-centered since he first came into it.

Penelope narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my dating life?”

“I was just wondering.”

”Well, I’m having fun the way things are. You and me, catching a movie on a Friday night, mother and son time with Elena away. Why would I want to date when I could be doing this?”

She grabbed a handful of popcorn and caught the way he cringed. Or flinched. Whatever it was, there was guilt there. Her mom radar went up.

“Alex, what is it? Is something going on?”

“It’s nothing!” He assured her in a rush. “It’s just...I kind of--did have a date.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You wanted to go out together, so I rain checked it with Chloe for next weekend. But I mean, let’s be real, Mom. This can’t last forever. I’ll go off to college too, or modeling school, whatever, and then who will you hang out with?”

The trailers started playing, just in time, letting her wallow until the movie started.

Penelope couldn’t keep the sadness off her face as she watched Alex settle in with his snacks. He was growing up so fast on her. Too fast. And Elena was practically out of the house already.

She didn’t want to date just to avoid being alone, but hearing that concern from her teenage son? Ouch. So much for being the cool mom.

Now Penelope was glad that they’d picked an action flick. She was ready to watch some stuff blow up.

****

Alex emerged from his room the next morning waving his phone at her.

“Mom, that was the third text I’ve gotten from Elena since she left reminding us to take that stuff to Goodwill.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Penelope replied.

She was almost out the door, but her son had the luxury of sleeping in on Saturdays until baseball season started. He was taking full advantage of it.

“Seriously, she woke me up--and I need my beauty rest. She’s not gonna stop bugging me until you drop it off.”

“Alex...” Penelope shrugged into her coat, kissing her Mami on the cheek in thanks for the quick cafecito she had substituted for breakfast. “It’s all boxed up, we finished it before she left; it’ll get there.”

“I’m just saying, she’s gonna start texting you next, and I don’t think you’ll enjoy the lectures any more than I do.”

“Well, I’ve got plans with Jill today--and I’m about to be late. Mami?” She raised hopeful eyebrows in Lydia’s direction.

“Hmm?”

“Can you go with Alex to the Goodwill donation dropoff? I won’t be back until dinner.”

“Si, Lupita. Go have fun with your friend, we will handle it.”

“Great. Thanks. The things I’m getting rid of are in my room, next to the closet.”

“You know, this would be much easier if Schneider had not taken his girlfriend on a vacation.” Lydia frowned. “He could carry much bigger boxes than myself or Papito.”

“Hey, I can lift heavy stuff,” Alex protested.

“Yes, but you should not have to! You should save your strength for wooing your future wife.” Lydia patted his face.

“Luckily for us--and Alex’s future wife--none of the boxes are all that heavy,” Penelope said. “And there aren’t too many of them. Now, I really have to go. I’ll see you both tonight.”

****

Absorbed in work and school, Penelope didn’t give their Goodwill donations another thought until Tuesday, on her way out of the hospital. The two boxes she’d packed in her room were gone, concluding that chore.

Or so she thought.

Penelope was digging in her purse for her keys when she saw Schneider striding her way. “Oh, hey! I thought you were gonna be off the grid with Nikki for another couple of days.”

“No, that trip is kind of...over. That whole thing is kind of over.”

“Again?”

Hurt crossed Schneider’s face before he buried it. He was really good at that, she’d learned--mostly from moments when she was the one hurting him. Way to go, Penelope.

“I mean, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Eh, I will be. Eventually. It’s not like we were engaged, right?”

Schneider shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here, though. Nikki may have dumped me for one of the jock dads at St. Bibiana’s, but that doesn’t mean I think you and I should blur the lines on the rebound.”

She stared at the creased blue paper he held up as he continued.

“Not that I’m not flattered, obviously. You’re the most badass woman I know, an amazing mom, anybody would be lucky to--”

Penelope’s field of vision narrowed to the letter in his hand, a letter that she definitely recognized. She didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. She could only hear her heart pounding in her ears, making her wonder if she was about to pass out there, next to her car.

How did Schneider get that? What was happening right now?

“I found it slipped under my door when I got home. And honestly, Pen, if you needed to tell me this stuff, you could have just done it in person--we’ve had enough late night chats that nothing’s really off limits at this point.”

She took a deep breath, trying to focus on a technique that worked for her during panic attacks and after nightmares. Since the moment felt like an actual waking nightmare, slowly counting backwards didn’t help much. He was still there. Waiting.

“Schneider, that letter--it’s not what it looks like, I swear. I don’t want to date you. At all. I wrote it because...”

She was still trying to find the words to explain something much too complicated for a parking lot when she saw motion past Schneider’s left shoulder.

Max was exiting the hospital and heading straight for them, holding a bright white envelope in one hand.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was coming over to say.

Which was good, because Penelope’s mind was not exactly in top condition. It was already a five-alarm fire up in there, and every part of her was screaming I cannot deal with this.

In the fraction of a second she had to consider her options, Penelope acknowledged that the mature response would be to face it now--to explain the situation to her ex-boyfriend and her best friend at the same time.

Or, she decided, as she felt both men’s eyes on her and her palms started to sweat...she could do literally anything else.

Going with her first impulse, Penelope reached up and grabbed Schneider’s shirt with both hands, pulling him toward her. Before Max could get one step closer, she kissed Schneider like her life depended on it.

She couldn’t have explained to anybody why kissing Schneider seemed like a better idea than letting Max think she was still pining over him. Right then, she just needed Max to stay back. To leave them alone.

Did it work? She wondered. She couldn’t check without breaking off the kiss, but the silence seemed promising.

Of course, the quiet only emphasized the situation she was now in. She was kissing Schneider. She was in a hospital parking lot, a few yards away from her ex-boyfriend, kissing Schneider.

Pressed against her, Schneider didn’t react. Not after the initial moment, or several more. He let her kiss him, but he didn’t kiss back. And that was fine, Penelope told herself. That was better.

“Thank you,” she said when she let Schneider go. He stood there, flushed and baffled, looking at her like he had never seen her before.

Though confusion was written all over his face, Schneider nodded. “You’re...welcome?”

Penelope wasn’t willing to push her luck any further. She couldn’t avoid the embarrassment forever, but at least she had managed to postpone it until she got home. She needed time to figure this out.

Without another word, and without glancing back to where Max was probably still holding his own letter, she got into her car and drove home.

****

Her reprieve was brief, not that she’d expected any different. She caught the aroma of dinner as soon as she walked through the door, and barely had time to praise her Mami’s cooking before Schneider arrived.

“Oh, good, Schneider, you are home from your vacación,” Lydia said. “I made enough for you to join us, just in case.”

“Hey,” Alex added from his spot at the table. “You’re back early, right?”

“Yeah, Nikki and I broke up.”

Schneider offered that explanation to Alex, but he was looking at Penelope. She shook her head in response, hoping the tiny movement would go unnoticed by the others. Hoping that Schneider would understand. Not now. Not in front of the family. Please.

His shoulders tensed where he stood, like her silent plea was a blow he had to absorb. But when he finally looked away from her, smiling at Lydia and taking his seat, Penelope knew he would let it go for now. “So you can see why I needed a nice, comforting family dinner this evening.”

“Oh, pobrecito Schneider,” Lydia said, patting his back before she sat down across from him. “You can do better.”

They were waiting for her to settle into her place at the table, but Penelope couldn’t join them until she knew for sure. She headed for her bedroom, straight to the spot where her army duffel would be.

Or where it used to be.

“Mami?” She returned to the table and sat, trying to sound calm. “What happened to my duffel bag?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia said, pouring herself some rum as though her daughter’s world wasn’t spinning out of control in front of her. “Where did you see it last?”

“I keep it in my closet,” Penelope snapped back. “It’s been there for years. Where did I see it last,” she added in a mutter.

“You do not need to take that tone with me,” her Mami scolded her. “I did not touch your ratty old bag. I do not know where it is.”

“Well, I know I didn’t move it, and it’s gone. So can anybody explain to me how it up and disappeared?”

Lydia thought it over. “I suppose...if it was in your closet...it might be at the Goodwill.”

She clamped down even harder on her temper. “Why would it be at the Goodwill?”

“As I said, Lupita, I have done nothing wrong. But your boxes were next to the closet. So if it is missing, that may be why.”

“It was just an old duffel bag, right, Mom?” Alex was halfway through his dinner, but he couldn’t ignore the tension in the room. “You can get a new one.”

“Not everything’s replaceable, Alex. That old bag had a lot of memories attached.” She picked up her fork and tried to focus on her food while her mind reeled. It also had five incredibly personal love letters tucked into the inside pocket. Letters she’d never wanted their subjects to read.

Now Max knew she never got over him, and wanted him back. God, after more than a year, how pathetic he must think she was.

And that didn’t begin to address the other letters. How long until those came back to haunt her, too? What about the man currently watching her while he ate, pretending that he wasn’t? How could she possibly explain any of this to Schneider?

She stabbed at her salad, lost in thought until she was done eating.

Worried she might snap at him next, even Schneider was quiet during the meal. The scraping of utensils against dishes filled the silence until Penelope cleared her plate and went to her bedroom.

Schneider swallowed loudly after Penelope left, but didn’t offer up his usual attempts to paper over the unease that lingered behind her.

Instead it was Lydia who broke the silence. “Lupe hasn’t used any of her old bags in years. I do not understand why she is so upset about this one.”

“Maybe she’s going through menopause,” Alex offered up.

Schneider’s fork clattered loudly onto his plate.

Lydia shook her head. “No, that can’t be the problem, Papito. She is far too young.”

“It can start between the ages of 40 and 50,” Alex argued, ignoring the way Schneider was gaping at him. “Mom’s just inside the window.”

“This is very inappropriate talk,” Lydia scolded him, standing up to clear the rest of the plates.

“Elena wouldn’t stop lecturing me about it, okay? She wanted me to be ready when it happened in case she was moved out already. You know how she never shuts up.”

Schneider left Alex sitting alone to go find Penelope--normally she would be back out with the family after dinner, but if she was going to try this hard to avoid him, she wasn’t giving him much choice.

With Lydia at the sink and Alex’s face in his phone already, Schneider doubted the others would even notice him gone.

He tapped lightly on her door. “Penelope?”

The long silence wasn’t comforting, but eventually he heard a quiet “Come in” and let himself in.

“Hey,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “You know, Max seemed just as confused as me, back at the hospital. He just sort of stared at me, once you drove off, for the longest five seconds in history, and then he left without saying anything.”

“Yeah?” Penelope was looking at the floor more than him, but he could tell she was listening.

“Yeah. I think he wanted to talk to you too. Which made me even more confused. What’s going on?”

A brisk rap on the door sounded before it opened--not giving either of them time to respond.

“Mami.”

“It’s time for dessert,” Lydia told them. “What are you two doing in here?”

Penelope ignored the gossipy insinuation in her tone--she knew better than anyone that it was her Mami’s way of hoping something interesting was about to happen, whether it actually was or not. “We were talking about dessert, actually. I was asking Schneider if he wanted to go with me to get ice cream.”

She raised her eyebrows, hoping he would follow her lead. “What do you say? Dessert run?”

Whatever he was thinking, or feeling, Schneider kept it to himself. “Sure, Pen. Sounds good. My treat.”

“Oh, Schneider, you are such a generous man,” Lydia told him with a hand on his arm--laying it on a little thick even by her usual standards.

“Mami, calm down. It’s ice cream, not new shoes.”

“Lydia, did you want new shoes?” Schneider perked up, and Penelope grabbed him by the arm to pull him past her mom before they could get any ideas.

“She doesn’t need you to buy her shoes. Let’s go.”

Penelope rushed him to the door with one hand on his back, nudging him forward as she opened it.

She was in such a hurry, she almost shoved him directly into Ben--who was standing on the other side, hand raised to knock.

“Oh, hey, Penelope. Is this a bad time?”

#alvareider #one day at a time #odaat #penelope x schneider #to all the men i've loved before #penelope alvarez #schneider #lydia riera #alex alvarez #max ferraro #alvareider fic #odaat fic #my fic

18 notes · View notes

dirtylittlesinkrat · 4 years ago

Text

newsies as conversations that i’ve had with my friends

(it’s mostly race & al because...we are them and i need you to understand that)

Al: my tiny microphone arrived

Race: Yay!

Al: Do you wanna know why i got the tiny microphone? Because i have to do a monologue of my choice for acting and theater and i chose one where a guy is giving a speech at his wedding and so I got the tiny microphone. For reference it is the size of my pinky.

---

Al: I’m very tired today. I want coffee but I’m lactose intolerant and ate cereal already. If I have coffee, I will die. :))

Davey: Simple solution: do not have coffee.

Al: *drinks coffee*

---

Al: *sends picture of cat*

Race: The chonky boi is so sad. i want to hold the fat lil babey

---

Jack: *makes “special salsa”*

Al: What’s special about it. What did he put in it?

Race: ✨love✨

---

Al: I’m in class and I was like wiggling in my seat and I just quietly to myself said, "it's ass shaking time" like that something a perfectly sane and normal person would say

---

Race: I haven’t been doing work for this class, so I sent this email, right?

Davey: ...yes...go on..

Race: Do you wanna know what it said?

Davey: ...

Race: “Sorry to send this to you so late but I'm going to be emailing you my essay because I was having a weeklong mental break down? I really don't know how to describe it, but my brain wasn't working, and my mental health was absolute garbage. I know this will affect my grade, but I thought I'd let you know first.”

Race, a few minutes later: I JUST REALIZED I SENT THAT EMAIL AT LIKE 1 AM OH MY GOD

---

Race: You inspire me

Al: I’m your muse

Race: Yes

---

Al: The baby highlander cow offers so much serotonin

Race: *nodding sagely* Yes

---

Race, talking about Bolin from LoK: this man would court me like a true gentleman and would take me to dinner before knocking me into next week with those muscles

Al: It’s one in the morning please sleep

---

Al: Why are you covered in coffee?

Race: I had a mouth full of coffee and I leaned back and my brain was like "gargle" and I impulsively did so and now I’m covered in coffee

---

Race: Literally what is wrong with me

Al: I dunno but I’ve found that naps solve many problems

---

Race: wow this bath bomb smells amazing wonder how it tastes

---

Race: I know what you should spend your money on: kazoos.

Al: No.

Race: Some kazoos are like 2 bucks. You could buy 44 kazoos!

Al: No.

Race: Do it

Al: No

Race: Please

Al: No

Race: Do it for the vine

---

Race: My head hurts, do you think that watching the Bee Movie will help?

Davey: I think taking a nap or drinking water might help

Race: Ew

Davey: If you keep the brightness down, you can watch the bee movie.

Race: Thanks, doc!

---

Race: I kin Sonic the hedgehog

Al: Which one

Race: Sonic Boom

Al: okay good. all im gonna say is i kin WILL FUCKING GRAHAM

Race: Ain’t he the gay one?

---

Race: when i get home i am devouring ritz crackers and there is NOTHING you can do to stop me

#im so lazy i dont want to do tags #fine here we go #newsies #92sies #livesies #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #davey jacobs

19 notes · View notes

damianwaynerocks · 4 years ago

Text

Zuko & the Waynes - Chapter 3

Batfam/ATLA au

Description: Prince Zuko, pre-finding Aang, falls into Gotham City. After being adopted by Bruce Wayne, Zuko finds himself enjoying life in this strange world. Zuko Wayne has a family who loves him unconditionally. Zuko Wayne is a hero, saving the innocents of Gotham City every night. But Zuko soon finds himself at the center of a plot that threatens to destroy not only this new world he's come to love, but also the world he's trying to leave behind.

A/N: okay, so the members of the titans and young justice team are different in this au.

Young Justice: Tim Drake (Red Robin); Cassie Sandsmark (Wondergirl); Kon/Conner Kent (Superboy); Bart Allen (Impulse)

Titans: Dick Grayson (Nightwing); Koriand'r (Starfire); Garfield Logan (Beast Boy); Rachel Roth (Raven); Jaime Reyes (Blue Beetle); M'Gann M'orris (Miss Martian)

Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Chapter 3:

"So, you remember the plan?"

"Yeah, we got it," said Cassie into her earpiece, having to raise her voice to be heard over the pouring rain outside. "Don't worry about us, we're fine."

"Good to know," Tim responded into the comlink.

It was the night of the auction. Zuko was wearing a black suit while Cassie was wearing a red dress. Both had their masks on. Kon, also known as Superboy, was sitting in the driver's seat. He was acting as their chauffeur, and was there as backup in case anything went wrong. Zuko rolled his eyes as he heard a slurping sound in his com link, presumably from Tim taking a sip of coffee.

"That was gross," Kon sighed. "Don't do that."

Tim ignored him. "Proud of you both. Remember, if the wrong person gets their hands on the magyntite, not even Superman will be able to stop them." He paused. "No pressure, though.”

"Wow, you're great at pep talks." Zuko adjusted the mask on his face, making sure it hid his scar. "You ready, Cassie?"

"I was born ready," Cassie responded with a grin. "Now, let's go, Henry."

"After you, Larissa." Zuko grabbed an umbrella and stepped out of the self-driving black limousine they'd borrowed from Bruce. He went around to her side of the vehicle and opened her door for her. Cassie looped her arm through his, muttering a thank you as Zuko raised the umbrella above both of them. They walked into the casino.

Just inside, a bouncer stepped in front of them. "How tall is the eagle's wingspan?"

"That means do magic," Tim said through the coms.

"Uh," Zuko's mind raced as he tried to think of a spell on the spot. "Fire Dragon Iron Fist!" he finally said, and a ball of fire appeared over his closed fist. The bouncer nodded, and unhooked the red rope, allowing them to step inside.It was bright and loud and flashy, and Zuko had to stop for a moment to get his bearings.

"You good?" Cassie whispered, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. "It's okay. Let's just go downstairs, follow me." She gently led him towards the back of this casino. Tim had told them that there was a staircase behind the bathrooms, and the basement was where the auction was taking place.They walked past the doors that said 'men' and 'woman' and opened the third door, revealing stairs going down to a concrete basement. "You okay now?" Cassie asked as they began to descend.

"Yeah," Zuko grunted. "I'm fine." They walked down a dark and damp hallway, a stark contrast to the bright lights and clean floors of the upper floor. The reached a huge room with a wrap around balcony overlooking the bottom floor. Many people, all wearing masks, were crowded together.

"It's about to start, Mr. Henry," Cassie said. "Let's go sign in." The pair walked through the people until they reached the stairs leading to the bottom floor. Arms still linked, they walked down the stairs.

"There's a ton of people here," Zuko mused. "I wonder what they all want to buy."

Cassie shrugged. "Drugs. Artifacts. Who knows."

They made their way to the middle of the throng of people and sat down in two of the chairs. The auction started soon after, and the words the auctioneer was saying sounded like white noise to Zuko. Finally, twenty minutes in, Tim's voice in his ear made Zuko flinch. "Magyntite is next," he said. "Be ready."

Sure enough, the man held up a silver briefcase. "Magyntite!" he yelled. "This drug is like Kobra Venom! Bulk up your muscles, lady and gentlemen. Do I hear... two million?" Zuko raised his hand and the same time another man did. The man glared at Zuko, who did the same.Back and forth this happened, Zuko and this man trying to get the magyntite. In the end, though, Zuko and Cassie got it for $45,000,000.

"Holy crap," Cassie breathed as they walked back up the stairs. "That man wanted to kill you."

Zuko hummed. "He isn't the only one."

Cassie gave him an amused look."Is that so, Sir Henry?"

"Indeed it is, Lady Larissa."

Golden eyes gazed into blue for a second, both having small smiles on their faces.

"Yo, you guys get it?"

"Uh, yeah," Cassie replied, breaking eye contact. "Yeah, we're heading back now."

Zuko's face reddened. He hadn't felt any feeling similar to that since Mai, when he was thirteen. He shook his head to clear it. Don't be stupid, he told himself. Don't even go there. No chance of that happening.

"You good?" Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow under her mask. Zuko cleared his throat and nodded a little too quickly.

"Me? I'm great. Splendid. Never been better!" he babbled. "Oh Agni, I bet Kon is going crazy! Uh, let's go see him!" He linked his arm with Cassie's and half-led half-drug her through the club and out the door.

"And the lovely couple returns!" Kon cheered as Zuko opened the door for Cassie. "I missed you! Tim told me I couldn't listen to my podcast because I had to stay alert so I've been bored out of my mind."

"Oh, poor baby!" Cassie mocked. "Do you need a massage and a nice cup of tea?"

"I do, actually."

"Too bad, Superbrat."

Zuko looked out the window. He missed his uncle's tea.

Only 11 more months.

___

The next morning, Zuko, Duke and Damian were at the table eating breakfast. Zuko was about to put a piece of bacon in his mouth when he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he frowned as he met Duke's eyes. "What?

Duke's eyebrows were furrowed in disbelief. "Dude, it's 7:00 in the morning. Why are you already dressed?"

Zuko blinked. While the others were in their pajamas- Duke in an old t-shirt and shorts and Damian in his silk robe -Zuko was in jeans and a Ralph Lauren button-up, his hair in a topknot. He would've put shoes on, if it weren't for Alfred's no-shoes-in-the-house rule. "I'm used to getting up at dawn and getting ready. It's what I've done for three years."

Duke shook his head. "You're making me feel like a slob, Zu."

"You will not feel that way for long," Damian spoke up. "For I hear Drake coming down the stairs."

Sure enough, Tim walked around the corner, staggering to the table. He was in an over sized black Superman shirt and his boxers with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His long hair was a mess, and the circles under his eyes made it look as though he had been punched in the face. Alfred pulled out a chair beside Zuko, a cup of coffee already in his hand. Tim stumbled towards the chair, looking as though he was about to pass out. He sat down in the chair slowly, and Alfred immediately put the cup of coffee in front of him. Tim blinked slowly, before picking up the coffee and bringing it to his lips.

"Well," Duke chuckled. "I no longer feel like a slob."

Damian wrinkled his nose, scoffing at Tim. "You are a disgrace, Drake. Have some self respect." Tim stared at him owl-eyed in response.

"Just give him like ten minutes," Duke said. "Anyways! So I heard you went on a mission last ni-"

"Master Duke!" Alfred interrupted him sharply. "Might I remind you the rules of breakfast?"

Duke seemed to shrink into himself as he answered in a small voice, "No vigilante talk at the breakfast table." Alfred nodded in approval before going back into the kitchen. Duke turned back to Zuko. "Later."

Zuko hummed in response.

As soon as breakfast was over, Duke ran to Zuko excitedly. "So!? How'd it go?"

"It went fine," Zuko replied. "I mean, we went in, got the stuff and got back in the car."

"That's it? No fights?"

"No fights."

"What about Cassie? Any emotions?"

Zuko coughed, his eyes widening. "What!? No! Don't be stupid!"

Duke laughed. "Dude, you're gonna have to get better at lying if you want to join the business."

"Which could start right now, if you want." Zuko and Duke whirled around to see Bruce holding a cup of coffee. "You've been here for a month. You can fight and you're smart. You're welcome to start training today, if you want."

Zuko's jaw dropped. "Uh, yeah! That'd be great!"

Bruce smiled."Fantastic. Go get changed into something comfortable and we'll start."

Zuko practically sprinted to his room, but before he could change, his phone chimed.

Cassie Sandsmark: good morning doofus

.Zuko grinned in spite of himself.

Zuko Wayne: good morning!

Cassie Sandsmark: how'd you sleep?

Zuko Wayne: great but i don't know if tim slept at all he's barely alive right now

Cassie Sandsmark: sounds like tim

Cassie Sandsmark: so when u joining the hero business

Zuko Wayne: right now,, I'm about to start training

Cassie Sandsmark: YAY TELL ME HOW IT GOES

Zuko Wayne: of course

Training, Zuko decided, was difficult. It'd been a month since he'd started, and while he was improving, he was sore and sick of computers.

"If I have to break another one of Tim's codes, I'll kill myself," he groaned, flopping on to the couch beside Damian, who nodded.

"Every time Drake speaks, I want to kill myself." Zuko eyed him wearily.

"That's harsh."

"Such is reality." Damian flipped to the next page of the book he was reading. "So, your first patrol is tomorrow?"

Zuko grinned."Yeah. I'm so excited." He sat up, cracking his knuckles. "Gonna be a blast."

"Are you finally adequate at lying?"

Zuko winced. "It took me a while but yeah, I got it."

"Good. We cannot have you exposing our secret." He looked up from his book. "Christmas is next month. Pennyworth instructed me to inform you that he needs a list of what you wish."

Zuko groaned. "I have no idea what I want."

"Well, figure it out," Damian replied. "Because if you do not, I'll have to listen to the complaining."

It was the night of his first patrol. Zuko turned to the mirror. His suit was a black kevlar lined jumpsuit with an obsidian utility belt and combat boots of the same color. There was a blue bat symbol across the chest, and a demon-type stage mask of the same color on his face. He looked at the blue gauntlet on his wrist and flexed his arm.

Dick whistled lowly. "Lookin' sharp, Zu."

Zuko grunted in response, but he couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching upwards.

"Good to see you suited up," Bruce said as he saw his son. He turned to the Bat Computer and typed something in. "Alright. Nightwing and Robin, you take the east side. Red Hood and Black Bat, you take the west. Red Robin, you take south. Blue Spirit and I will take north."

"You got it, boss man," said Jason with a mock salute. At that, the vigilantes headed out.

"Remember," Bruce began as he and Zuko got into the Batmobile. "Code names in the field." Zuko nodded.

"I won't forget, Batman."

"Good to hear, Blue Spirit."

After a few minutes if driving, Oracle spoke. "Croc is robbing a store on the corner of North and Order," she said. "Blue Spirit and Batman are closest."

"We're on it," Bruce said, and sped up.

They reached the corner in five minutes, and jumped out of the car. "Croc!" Bruce yelled.

A huge reptilian humanoid turned toward the voice, and smiled. "Batman!" he chirped. "And who's this?"

"Blue Spirit," Zuko said stiffly.

Killer Croc chuckled."New kid to destroy? I love that."

Croc rushed him, snapping his jaws viciously. Zuko jumped into the air, doing a flip over the creature. Fire blasted out of his elbow and he punched Croc in the snout as he turned.

Croc stumbled back. "Igniting your elbow to increase the force of your punch? Smart. Not smart enough." He ran towards Zuko again, claws outstretched, moving at inhuman speeds. Zuko ducked under his claws and gave an uppercut with the same advantage into his stomach. Croc was thrown into the air by the force. Before he could land, Zuko sent a blast of fire at him, engulfing him in flames. Croc screamed and fell to the ground, charred and smoking.

"He's still alive," Bruce said gruffly. "Not bad. I'll call Gordon." Zuko's chest swelled with pride, but he simply nodded.

"There's a robbery at the R&D center of Enterprises," Oracle said suddenly.

"Blue Spirit and I are going to check it out," Bruce answered.

"10-4," Dick replied. "Call if you need backup." Bruce grunted in response and, gesturing for Zuko to follow, jumped back into the Batmobile before speeding off.

"R&D?" Zuko echoed what Oracle had said earlier. "What's that?"

"It's the Research and Development Center," Bruce replied. "It's where we store Batman Inc. tech that's still in production."

"Oh."

“That's right. If anyone succeeds in getting their hands on what's in there-"

"-They'll get their hands on everything." Zuko bit the inside of his cheek. "It's fine. We can do this."

A hint of a smile ghosted across Bruce's lips, so small that Zuko wasn't sure if it'd even been there in the first place.

The Research and Development Center of Wayne Enterprises was primarily used to develop advancements in technology. These advancements ranged from more effective cancer treatments to new engines for vehicles.The blueprints listed the building as being eight stories. Unbeknownst to the majority of WE's employees, there was a basement. A basement hidden far below the actual building, so far below than an express elevator was needed. This basement was where the technology for Batman Inc. was developed.

Unlike the secret basement of Falcone's club, this basement was in pristine condition. It had a hospital feel to it, with white flooring, walls, and ceiling.

Bruce and Zuko had just grappled down the elevator shaft was landed at the end of one of the basement's hallways."The only alarm that's been triggered was the entry alarm," said Bruce. "The rooms where the... merchandise are kept have separate alarm systems. Can you tell me what this means, Blue Spirit?"

"The intruder either doesn't know what exactly is down here, or they just haven't managed to get into the rooms yet." Zuko frowned. "Wait, if they figured out this place was here then that means they definitely know what's down here. So then they haven't found the location of the 'merchandise.'"

"And you believe that to be the most probable scenario?"

"Well... yeah. I mean, unless they managed to bypass the alarm system. But that's impossible, this place is un-hackable ever since that incident with Ra's al Ghul. The security system is invincible. Right?"

"Rule of thumb, Blue Spirit," Bruce grunted, raising his arm closer to his face to he could activate his gauntlet. "Nothing is invincible. Everything has a weakness. Some are harder to find than others, but the only thing that is truly invincible is God Himself. And I don't think He would have any reason to break into Wayne Enterprises."

"Okay, but they tripped the alarm when they came in," Zuko pointed out. "So they must not have been able to hack the system."

"Unless they want us here."

Zuko sucked in his teeth. "So that's what you think? This is a trap?"

"It isn't a trap if we know about it," Bruce countered. "Here, I'm pulling up the motion sensors." Sure enough, the holographic screen coming from the gauntlet showed motion in room 121.

"Is that one of the rooms?" Zuko asked.

Bruce nodded."Yes." He and Zuko started to run in the direction of the before mentioned room. "There's very dangerous technology in there. We need to stop this intruder now." The two were sprinting, taking twists and turns through the winding hallways until Bruce stuck his arm out, signaling for Zuko to stop. In front of them was room 121, the door ajar.

"Holy crap," Zuko whispered. "They hacked us."

"They hacked us," Bruce echoed. "And now they're going to pay. Manuever 13. Be cautious." Bruce rolled a metal ball into the room, and it exploded into smoke Using the smoke as cover, Zuko and Bruce dashed into the room.

Using the heat signatures to see through the smoke, Zuko jumped forward, swinging down his broadswords in arc. His eyes widened as they hit air; the person had disappeared."What-" he broke off as someone landed a hit to his spine. Zuko whirled around, kicking out at his attacker, yet his foot hit air as the assailant dodged again.

"A teleporter?" he muttered. A laugh hit his ears, and the assailant landed another hit to the back of his head. Zuko tried to return the hit with one of his own but, of course, he missed.So far, Zuko noticed, they were teleporting closely around him. They were staying in close proximity with him. It would be hard to deduce where exactly they would strike, unless he limited their options.

Zuko stomped on the ground, and a ring of fire flared up around him. The attacker led out a gut wrenching scream as they were caught in the flames.He caught a glimpse of a person in a black suit clutching their arm before they teleported above his head, aiming a dropkick above him.

But Zuko had anticipated this. He grabbed their leg from above and slammed them on the ground. They landed with a crack and coughed.

"You just broke my spine, you asshole," the person wheezed. They were still now, and Zuko could see she was a girl with long brown hair in a wine-colored robe.

Zuko gulped, forcing down the rising panic at the girl's words. "Maybe you shouldn't have tried to break my skull."

The girl shrugged. "Just following orders."

"Who are you!?" Zuko snarled. "Tell me! Who are you and what do you want with this technology!?"

"Well, if you must know," the girl said, pain evident in her voice despite her calm tone. "I am but a servant of The Lady of the Dual Skies."

"The Lady of the Dual Skies?" Zuko echoed. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing's taken," Bruce said as he crossed his arms from where he stood behind Zuko. "Nothing has even been tampered with. You clearly weren't looking for anything here. So what did you want?"

"The Lady does not permit me speaking with anybody but you." The girl was speaking directly to Zuko, not sparing Bruce a glance. "She has something she wishes you to know."

Zuko narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "And what would that be?"

The girl grinned wickedly. "She says she'll see you soon."

With that, a portal opened up under the girl and she disappeared in a flash of purple light.

104 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 5 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction: They Impulsively Kiss You

Jin:

You sat in anticipation as the presenter of the awards show announced the winner of the Artist of The Year award, sitting closely besides Jin.

“Bangtan Sonyeondan!” She shouted. You chuckled as all the boys flew up, raising their arms in the air before hugging each other.

“Congratulations,” you smiled, standing up to give Jin a massive hug. He looked over at you a wide smile on his face.

The next thing you knew his lips were on yours, as cameras flashed all around you, desperate to get the all-important photo, your secret relationship suddenly became not so secret after all.

“What was that for?” You laughed as he pulled away, repositioning his hair back to how he wanted it. “It’s going to be all over the papers tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” he assured you, “we’ve won an award and I want to celebrate with you, let them say what they want, it still doesn’t change anything for me.”

“Me neither,” you replied, feeling him pull you into another quick hug. “I’m really proud of you all, you deserve this.”

“Thank you jagi, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Yoongi:

You smiled as you checked your phone, glancing at the date on the lock screen. Your birthday. You felt the bed dip beside you as Yoongi appeared.

“Happy birthday,” he smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips, “I’ve got all your presents and cards downstairs waiting.”

“Did you just kiss me? Before I’ve even done my teeth,” you teased, as he hoped you hadn’t recognised what he had done.

He had a massive problem with morning breath, never kissing you without fixing your breath. “It’s your birthday, I can make an allowance.”

“Maybe I’ll have to try and make it my birthday every day of the year if this is how I get woken up.” He shook his head back at you.

“Absolutely not, this is a one-time thing, don’t go getting any ideas.” You climbed out of bed, lacing your hand in with his, pulling him down the stairs.

“Whilst that might have been the present so far, I’m hoping there’s some good presents downstairs,” you asked, peering down to see a stack of presents nearly reaching the ceiling.

“I think I’ve excelled myself this year.”

Hoseok:

His heart broke as he walked into your flat seeing you cuddled up on the sofa, tears running down your face. He already knew what had caused the upset, knowing your boyfriend had left you.

“Hey, stop crying, he’s not worth,” he comforted, kneeling beside you, pulling you into his arms, his shirt dampening from your tears.

“Hobi, what do I do so wrong? Why doesn’t anyone love me?” You cried out, as he pulled away, studying your face closely.

His hands cupped your cheeks, “I can think of someone who has always loved you,” he whispered, before leaning forwards and pressing his lips to yours.

It took you by surprise as you pulled away, noticing the fear on his face. You sighed, leaning back again, crying for a whole different reason.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go. I shouldn’t have done that,” he spoke, slipping out of your grip only for you to hold on tightly to him.

“Don’t go, please. You’re what I need right now, just stay.” He nodded, joining you on the sofa, cuddling you into him.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Namjoon:

You finished your makeup, turning the lights off around your mirror, feeling a pair of arms snake around your waist as you stood up.

“Joon,” you chuckled, feeling him twirl you around, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Just for being you,” he smiled, admiring every fine detail of your face, from your mascara to your lipstick, he couldn’t help but grin.

A small blush crept onto your cheeks, looking down to the floor. “I don’t even know what to say to you sometimes when you do things like this.”

“You don’t have to say anything, I don’t need a reason to kiss my girlfriend, other than that she is the most beautiful girl in the world, that’s enough for me.”

“Stop,” you chuckled, burying your face into the crook of his neck. His hand came up to the back of your head, massaging through your hair.

“I won’t ever stop reminding you how beautiful you are, it’s my job as your boyfriend to do so,” he whispered, his breath tickling the lobe of your ear.

“Damn, I love you so much.”

Jimin:

You frowned as Jimin’s flight was called, your eyes meeting as he bent down to pick up his suitcase, pulling the handle up.

“I can’t believe my best friend is leaving me for two whole months” you groaned making him chuckle. He reached forwards, taking your hand in his.

“It will fly by, I promise.” He assured you. “I actually got you a little parting gift to remember me by, do you want it?”

You nodded your head, only to feel his lips press to yours, hand coming up to bring your head to his. Before you even registered what had happened, he moved away, running to the terminal.

“Jimin!” You shouted as he turned back to glance at you. “You can’t leave me like that, I need answers, what was that?”

He was too embarrassed to stay, running away before he could face you. “I’ll call you, or text you, I just really need to go.”

“B-but,” you stuttered, but he had already gone. You lightly waved before spinning on your heels, wiping away at your mouth with the back of your hand.

“What was that?”

Taehyung:

You unlocked the door to your flat, switching the light on whilst lost in a scroll through Instagram, catching up on what had happened in the day.

Seconds later a pair of lips fell on yours, taking you by surprise as you pulled away to see Taehyung stood before you. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise!” He chuckled, throwing his arms around you, pulling you into him. “I thought I’d come and see how you are.”

You couldn’t help but smile, peppering kisses along his neck. “You’re supposed to be in Tokyo for another week, why? How?”

“I lied, we finished yesterday, I just wanted to surprise you,” he informed you, brushing his hands through your hair, checking over you, making sure you were okay.

“I can’t believe you’ve done, that do you know hard it’s been the past few days without you and then you go and do this?”

“I could tell by your voice on the phone you weren’t happy, which is why I worked hard to get everything done early.” Your smile grew, your grip around him tightening.

“I’m so glad you’re home Tae.”

Jungkook:

Your heart rate picked up as a man in the bar approached you, he was handsy and intoxicated, which was never a good mix.

“Can you leave me alone please?” You asked of him, but he didn’t move, only moving closer to you, offering to buy you a drink.

“Oi!” A voice shouted behind you, “stop messing with my girlfriend pal.” You turned around, a stranger coming up behind you, winking at you.

The guy didn’t move, and the next thing you knew this random man had kissed your lips, placing his hands on your waist to steady you on your barstool.

“Clear off,” he scolded as he pulled away from the kiss. The man quickly disappeared back to his group of friends as you let go of a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, “let me buy you a drink, it’s the least I can do. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t step in.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m not one to sit back and see a woman be treated this way. Why don’t you join me and my friends? I’m Jungkook.”

“I’d love to, thank you Jungkook, I’m Y/N.”

---

Masterlist

1K notes · View notes

deans-baby-momma · 4 years ago

Text

Mommy’s (Not So)Good Girl-17

Inside the box were shiny sterling silver baubles to attach to the charm bracelet he had given me for my birthday.

I gaze at the individual jewelry pieces in awe. There is a heart with the words ‘Baby Girl’ engraved on it, a dollar sign charm encrusted with what looked like real diamonds, and one that looked like a star with flames around it.

Tears fill my eyes as I run my fingers over each charm.

“Dean,” I breathe out. “They're beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you Abby.”

I look over at him to see him staring at me and I can’t stop the tears as they start cascading down my face.

“Do you like it?” he asks, cautiously.

“I love it,” I tell him as I take the bracelet off and begin to add the new charms to it. When I'm done, I hold my arm out, the bracelet in my hand.

"Can you put it back on?"

Dean fumbles as he takes the bracelet out of my hand and opens the clasp. I hold my arm out and he wraps the jewelry around my wrist, closing it back and then slides his hand up my wrist and across my palm.

With my free hand, I wipe my eyes and look at the charms dangling from my arm.

“Ok, I know what the heart represents, but what about the others? The dollar sign and the weird star on fire?” I inquire of him as I turn my head to the side. I’ve seen that last one somewhere before.

“Uh, the dollar sign represents your career. Ya know, finance and shit,” he chuckles. “The star on fire is something I’ve read somewhere is supposed to be used for protection. And I want to keep you protected and safe.”

I look at the symbol and it finally dawns on me why it looks familiar. “That’s why you got it on your chest? Your tattoo??”

He nods as he links our fingers together and pulls my hand up to kiss it. My heart melts at the gesture.

Before I know it, I am straddling his lap, my lips attached to his. Dean moans into my mouth as I begin grinding down on him. I can feel the effects of my movements as his dick starts getting hard.

“Fuck Abby,” Dean exclaims against my lips. “Right here?”

“Yes.”

Dean scoots across the seat until he isn’t behind the wheel anymore and pulls my shirt over my head. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, tearing the fabric from my body and throwing it into the floorboard.

His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs raking over my nipples. I slide back on his thighs and reach for the button on his jeans. It takes some work but I finally get them open and pull his now erect cock from their confinement.

My leggings are the next to go, joining my bra and shirt on the floor. Dean immediately starts rubbing his fingers along the crotch of my panties and I know he can feel how wet I am through them.

“We gotta be quick baby,” he tells me and I nod once before I get up on my knees, pull my panties to the side and lower myself onto him.

The burn is welcome as he breaches my entrance and I keep going until he is fully sheathed inside me. Dean’s hands land on my hips and he squeezes. I take that as a sign that he wants me to start moving so I do, bouncing up and down and sliding back and forth.

“Shit baby. Daddy has missed your tight little cunt.”

“I’ve missed your big dick Daddy,” I whisper. “My toys just aren’t enough”

Dean moans and lays his head back on the seat, his eyes closed as he begins thrusting up into me. I can already feel that warmth, that signal that my orgasm is close. I know he said we needed to be quick but dammit, I wanted this to last longer!

“Daddy, I’m close. Are you going to cum with me? Cum inside me; fill me up.”

“Gonna fill you so full baby girl,” he says as he continues to fuck up into me. “You’ll be leaking Daddy’s cum all day.”

“Oh god! Yes! Yes! YES!” I chant as he holds me still and pumps his length into my body. My orgasm crashes over me.

“Fuck!” he exclaims right before he claims my mouth and I feel him pulsing his seed into me.

When we both recover from our highs, we get redressed and head to the store, like nothing was amiss.

It’s when we get back home that the bubble we have been in gets burst.

As soon as we sit the groceries on the counter, Mom zooms in on my bracelet, apparently noticing the new adornments.

“What’s those?” she asks.

“Oh,” I say looking down at the bracelet. Shit, why didn’t I take it off before I came inside? “They're a Christmas gift, from someone special.”

She smiles at me knowingly and I hold my breath. Does she know my ‘someone special’ is the same man she is expecting to propose?

“Is it from ‘Daddy’? She asks and looks at me, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Um. Uh….yea?” I answer awkwardly.

She looks over her shoulder at Dean, my arm still in her grasp. "Her daddy is playing off the gift you gave her. Does that offend you?"

"Nah," he answers with a smile. "The boy has good taste."

“Looks expensive. Guess you two are getting serious.” Mom says as she drops my arm and turns to begin putting up the groceries.

I shrug and as much as it mortifies me, especially in front of Dean, I downplay the significance of the jewelry. “It’s probably fake. You know, zirconium and glass.”

“I dunno,” she says as she scrutinizes the bangle. “It looks extravagant. Probably costs that boy a pretty penny.”

I glance at Dean in apology. I didn’t want him to think I was belittling his thoughtfulness or his gift but instead I see a look of understanding and empathy. I excuse myself to my room where I gingerly remove the bracelet and put it in my jewelry box before I flop on the bed and sob into my pillow.

He shouldn’t have spent so much money on me. I should have remembered to remove it before we came in. Did he buy it because he cares for me or was it just an impulse buy while he was looking at engagement rings for Mom?

I have so many thoughts and questions and no way to get answers. I guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow morning to see if Mom was right and Dean was planning to ask her to marry him.

The next morning, Ben is excited and anxious to open gifts as most of the ones under the tree are for him. I sit in the armchair with a mug of hot cocoa in my hands as we wait for Mom and Dean to come downstairs.

By the time dinner is served Mom is pouting, Dean is oblivious as to why and Ben is upstairs hooking up his new media system. Like he needs something more to keep him inside of the house all hours of the day and night, geez!

Dean pulls me to the side in the hallway while Mom is cleaning the kitchen and asks me if I know what is wrong.

“Dude,” I whisper as I look down toward the end of the hall before looking up at him. “She thought you were going to propose! Someone saw you at Jules & Pearls and she assumed you were ring shopping.”

Dean steps back, with a look of bewilderment. “What?”

“Yea so the new yoga supplies and dishes were like last on her thoughts,” I tell him, trying to hold back my smile.

I’ve been doing that since we opened the last of the presents with no engagement ring in sight; not that I was happy Mom got disappointed. No, I was happy that Dean hadn’t proposed to her. Possessive on my part? Maybe, but I don’t care.

“I never even thought of proposing to her,” Dean says as he runs a hand over his hair. “Abby, there is no way in hell I would do that.” He clears his throat. "Ahem, I mean, I am not the kind of man to get married with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids.”

I laugh at that. “Dean we don’t have a white picket fence and besides it’s only 1 kids. I’m not a kid anymore. You took care of that.”

“Shh,” he shushes me. “Ben could hear you.”

“Ben is in his room with his headphones on playing his video games. Even if he heard me, he wouldn't comprehend what I meant.”

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @deanwanddamons @hoboal87 @marvelfanbrenda @vicmc624 @smoothdogsgirl @stoneyggirl

#series #Mommy's (Not So) Good Girl #dean winchester #lisa braeden #abby braeden #ben braeden #dean x lisa #dean x abby #canon divergence #deans-baby-momma #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #season 6 #fluff #smut #angst

22 notes · View notes

i-learned-that-in-bookclub · 4 years ago

Text

Relight that Spark Chapter 14

One Night Together

Luke is sick when the band has to perform and his parents won't let him go out. Julie comes over and spends time with him. Juke Fanfic!

Requested by anonymous Please give me some more ideas! I'll try to get them up and going as fast as I can.

Luke's POV

The boys are alive and it is 2020.

I wake up and feel really hot. I am sweaty and have a massive headache. I try to get up but fail.

'Am I sick? No, I can't be sick. I have a gig today. If my parents find out that I'm sick then, I won't be able to perfrom.' I decide to get up, slowly. I walk over to my closet, grabbing some sweatpants and a cut-off tee. I make sure I look less sick before going downstairs to eat. I see my dad sitting down, reading the daily news paper. Mom is making pancakes.

"Morning sweety." She says, giving me a peck on the cheek. I sit down and mom places a plate of pancakes in front of me. She puts the syrup on the table and sits down herself. We all eat and I try to keep my sniffling to a minimum.

I finish eating and head upstairs. I grab my phone and text Julie.

Luke🎸🎤: Hey Julie

Julie🎵🎹: Hey Luke, what's up?

Luke🎸🎤: I'm sick, I might not be able to go to the gig tonight. I'll try to make sure my parents don't find out, but I'm just giving you a heads up.

Julie🎵🎹: Ok thanks for letting me know.

I put my phone down and hop in the shower. The hot water doesn't help my already hot body. I feel faint and get out of the shower. I get dressed and dry my hair. I decide to sneak into my parents room and grab the thermometer. I run back to my room and check my temperature.

"102!?" I yell. "No wonder I don't feel good." I say softer, ploping onto my bed. I hear a knock at my door and my mom comes in.

"Hey Luke, have you seen the thermometer? I can't find it anywhere." She asks, looking around.

"No, I don't know where it could be." I lie, hiding it behind my back.

"Are you feeling ok? You don't look too well."

"I'm fine. No need to worry."

"Hmm, ok. But if you are sick, you won't be able to go to your gig tonight." She states. My face goes in shock. 'I knew this was a possibility, but I mean come on seriously? She can't do this.'

"Not that it would be such a bad thing." She says the last part more softly and leaves, closing the door behind her.

"Ugh!" I yell, chucking the thermometer towards the wall. It hits the wall and falls down. "Oh shit." I say quietly, realizing what I just did. I walk over to the thermometer and see that it is cracked, and the screen where you read the numbers is scratched.

I walk down stairs to grab an ice pack from the fridge for my splitting headache. I open the fridge up and pull the pack out.

Just then I hear, "Lucas Nathaniel Patterson!"

I freeze and drop the ice pack. I turn around to see my mom holding the broken thermometer. My eyes grow wide when I see the thermometer.

"Would you mind explaining to me why this was in your room broken?" She asks sternly.

"Um, I don't know." I hesitate.

"Luke, I know you're not feeling well. And lying about it won't help your case."

"I'm feeling fine."

"No you're not! Do you really want to rick the health of your friends just because you want to play tonight?!"

"I won't be risking their health because I'm fine."

"No. I am not letting you go to your gig tonight, You are staying here until you feel better."

My jaw drops. "WHAT?! You can't do that!"

"I can because I am your mother. Plus, it wouldn't kill you to stay home and study. You need to Ace that Math test tomorrow."

I said nothing, too shocked by her demands.

I finally said something. "You're being so unfair. I am feeling fine. Plus, I'm not going to just STUDY on the weekends!"

"You're not going to your gig tonight and that's final." She finishes, walking away.

I am so angry. Out of impulse, I garb a nearby glass and smash it against the counter. The glass breaks and goes flying everywhere. I feel one of the shards cut my cheek and blood slowly pours down.

"Clean that up!" I hear from upstairs.

I scoff and grab a little broom. I sweep the glass shards into the trash can. 'They'll never understand. I can't be the straight A student they want. They don't support me. Always regret buying me that guitar. They'll never understand.'

I finish cleaning up and go upstairs, forgetting why I came down here in the first place. I walk back into my room and hear my phone ring.

"Hello?" I say, picking it up.

"Hey Luke, where are you, we're on our way to the venue." Julie says through the phone.

"Oh, I can't go. My mom found out that I'm sick and now I'm here all night." I answer, still recovering from the tears I had shed down in the kitchen.

"Oh, ok well. I hope you feel better." We say goodbye and hang up.

About 10 minutes later my mom comes in my room. "Hey Luke, your father and I are going out to dinner. Please stay here and don't cause any trouble. Love you."

"Love you too." I answer back and she closes the door.

30 minutes go by and I'm laying on my bed. I hear someone knock at my window and turn to see Julie. I open the window up and she comes in. Julie sets her stuff down and takes a seat next to be on the bed.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the gig." I state.

"We cancelled. I told the guys that you weren't able to come and we all decided to not go. Performing without you feels wrong." She answers.

"Thanks, Julie."

"No problem. Look what I brought." She opens a box.

"You got pizza?!" I exclaim.

"Yup, dig in." She says. We eat the pizza and talk about school. I finish and lay down on the bed. She does the same and we both stare up at the ceiling.

"Why were you sad when we were on the phone?" She asks breaking the silence.

"I don't know." I say and stay quiet. " I guess..." I pause to figure out what I'm gonna say. "I guess that I got angry that I couldn't go. My parents have always wanted me to be this straight A scholar. They want me to be the perfect child and not get into any trouble and have perfect grades." I sigh. "But that's not me. I'm not perfect and I don't have perfect grades, or even close to perfect. I drown myself in music, not books. And when they said I couldn't go and had to study, I got angry because I'm tired of all of it." A few tears fall down the sides of my face.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But as long as you're happy and do what you love than it's ok. That's all parents really want from you." She answers quietly.

"Thanks Julie." I say, grabbing her hand.

"No problem. Now, let's go fix that cut of yours!"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865526/chapters/66783532

#jatp #julie #juke #julie and the phantoms #luke

12 notes · View notes

universe-n-3276 · 4 years ago

Text

Carrying the Moon

Chapter 14

Sander was pretty nervous, although he shouldn't have been. He had made that decision a very long time ago, and he was just waiting for the right moment to put it into action. That wasn't the kind of emotion he expected to feel that morning. Happiness, excitement, those were the things he had expected.

On the way to the cafeteria, where he had asked Lucas to meet, he told himself that what he was feeling was not about the thing itself, but about having to tell someone for the first time.

At times like that, he found himself hating the situation with Charlotte a little bit more. He w anted to tell her first because he wouldn't felt so nervous. But sadly the relationship between him and his sister was non-existent at the time, so the next one on the list had been his best friend.

Sander walked into the cafeteria and ordered a decaf for himself, a chocolate with a lot of whipped cream on top for Lucas, and sat down to wait for him. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long because, even though his best friend had a billion flaws, he was rarely late.

"Thanks for meeting me here."

"Wow, so formal."

He said, grabbing his chocolate as Gollum would have done with the ring. Maybe he should have ordered a piece of pie as well, just to make sure to put him in a good mood, thanks to the sugar overload.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Yeah, I can see that. What's up?"

"I don't even know w here to start."

Lucas gave up on his attempts to remove the lid from his cup, and took Sander's hand on the coffee table, squeezing it in his own. He looked up to meet his gaze.

There was something in Lucas's eyes that could scare you. It was like looking straight into the raging sea, and it was exactly what Sander expected his best friend’s soul to look like. Untamable, but somehow it had the power to calm people down. To steal their thoughts and make them their own.

"Sander, I might act like an idiot all the time, but you know you can talk to me."

"It's just. I don't feel like Robbe's my boyfriend anymore. It's weird when I introduce him to someone and I call him like that."

The boy who had finally managed to open the lid, bury a finger into the whipped cream, and then put it into his mouth, remained still for a moment, at other’s words, trying to understand if what he had just heard was correct.

"What the fuck? Do you wanna break up with him?"

"What? No! The opposite!"

"The op- oh my goodness!"

"Yeah! We’re raising a child together, but it’s not just about Hero. It seems right, you know? He’s the one, and I knew it since the beginning of our relationship, but now, if I’m not home, I can’t wait to see him again, tell him about my day, and hear about his. I feel completely myself around him. His presence is so soothing for me. I just wanna be like this for the rest of my life. I'm ready and I hope he's too."

Lucas had given up on his chocolate, which Sander considered a n honor , and was listening to his best friend with a dreamy expression on his face.

"I think I wanna marry Jens."

"Oh my god! Don't try to steal my moment! Do you think this is the right time, though? Everything is still a mess. We’re about to graduate, and I don’t even know what I’m gonna do after that. I don't have a job, and the situation with Hero and Charlotte is still complicated."

"But you're sure of Robbe, right?"

"He's the only thing I'm sure of in my life right now."

" So do it. Ask him."

Sander nodded, suddenly much more confident than when he woke up the same morning and less nervous than when he walked into the cafeteria. Sometimes he forgot how well Lucas knew him. He smiled because he was no longer able to contain his happiness and stole some of the whipped cream from Lucas's cup.

"I'm so excited."

"Me too! Are we gonna buy him a ring?"

"I'm gonna buy him a ring."

"Yes, but I'm helping you, so..."

"I bet Hero would sound just like you."

"I take it as a compliment."

"Shut up and let's go. I already saw something I like."

"But I didn't finish my chocolate!"

"Okay, we can stay a little longer, then. I'm getting some cake for both of us, I want to celebrate!"

And with a lighter soul, Sander got up from his chair , ready for his sugar’s overdose, and to face one of the days he would remember for the rest of his life.

When Charlotte's face appeared on the screen, Lucas couldn't help but smile. She was sticking her fork into a bowl of salad, probably trying to avoid what she didn't like.

Her dark blonde hair covered her face for a moment, but she quickly tucked it behind her ear, suddenly looking up at the screen. The girl smiled, waving the hand in which she was holding the fork.

"Hi, Luc!"

"Hi, baby!"

"What's up?"

"I had my last exam today!"

She clapped her hands, showing a warm smile that was the Driesen family’s signature. They were able to make you feel loved and appreciated by just smiling at you, even from miles away and through a screen. Lucas missed Charlotte so deeply, that sometimes he just wanted to hug his laptop to try to feel some of her warmth.

"Oh my goodness, congrats! When are you gonna graduate?"

"In two weeks."

"I wish I could come. Really. I miss you so much."

"Ow. Don't be sad, baby Lot. How are you?"

She shrugged, looking down at her salad, putting the fork back in it. Her mood had changed so quickly and so easily, a s if she was just waiting for the right moment to bring the matter up.

"I don't know. I'm happy here, but- I miss my brother."

There it was, Charlotte's weak spot. It had always been him, even though she hadn't even wanted to hear anything about him for nearly a year. Their bond was impossible to break. Not because they were twins, but simply because they were Sander and Charlotte. They had been attached at the hip for 23 years.

"Talk to him."

"I don't know. It's weird. "

"Why?"

She fell silent for a moment. Lucas knew what Charlotte was about to say, and he was afraid of opening that Pandora Box. He didn't want to plant that seed in the girl's head, because if things went wrong, it would be his fault.

"Because of the baby. I don't wanna be a mother. I know I don't want to! But what if I see him, something change, and then I regret everything?"

"Charlotte, I think it's too late to regret something. The baby already has two loving parents."

"That’s why I don’t wanna talk to him or come back. I don't wanna put myself or him in that situation, I don't wanna make a mess."

"I get it."

They both sighed, looking at each other through the screen. Lucas wanted to tell her that no, she couldn't come back thinking of taking Hero from his parents, because he no longer belonged to her and maybe he never did. It wasn’t in the Universe’s plans for Charlotte to become a mother. Hero had always been predestined to be Sander and Robbe’s baby.

But Lucas said nothing. He remained silent waiting for the girl to speak again.

"Does he like being a dad?"

"Yeah, he loves it. I've never seen him happier."

"I wish I could see it."

"And also Robbe! He's so in love with Hero!"

It was the first time they talked so openly about that topic. Charlotte had never asked anything, but at that moment she seemed a little bit more convinced of the choice she had made, simply because, in that way, she had made happy, two of the people she cared most in the world.

"Hero... it's such a cute name. Wait! Are Robbe and Sander back together?"

"Yes! They are! And your brother wanna ask him to marry him. He already bought a ring."

"What? Lucas! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? "

"I thought you didn’t wanna know."

"I didn’t, but I guess I was wrong. Gosh! I'm studying to become a therapist and I don't even know

how I feel! I'm the worst!"

Charlotte ran her fingers through her hair, rolling her eyes in frustration. She put her salad aside and crossed her legs on the chair because she couldn't sit in the same position for more than five seconds.

"You're not, shut up! You're a natural! Remember how many times you helped me to figure out how I was feeling?"

"Yeah, but it's different with you. I know you like the back of my hands."

"You know me better than Jens."

"How's Jens?"

"He's good, but I still don't know how he manages to put up with me. I'm such a pain in the ass lately."

"Lately?"

She asked, raising her eyebrow, looking at Lucas with a half-smile on her lips. Fuck, he missed her. The way she spoke her mind without judging. Charlotte was able to make everyone feel understood and safe because she was always ready to help.

"I'm being serious! I'm scared he's gonna get tired of my stupid attitude. He makes me wanna be a better person, but I often end up acting like a jerk."

"Luc, first of all, Jens is madly in love with you, so don't worry. But if you really wanna be a better person, I’ll tell you what to do: breathe. Your biggest flaw is that you're impulsive! You act out of your emotions. Sometimes when you want to scream at his face, you just need to take a deep breath to ground yourself."

"You're right."

" And, Luc. Just chill."

They both burst out laughing, but Lucas vowed to try to follow Charlotte's advice. She had never been wrong before.

"They are teaching you well, down there in Sydney, huh?"

"They’re not that bad, but Luc, I've to go now, it’ s getting late."

"Okay, bye baby, love you."

"Love you too."

The moment they end ed up their video-call, Jens opened the front door. Lucas closed his laptop and got up quickly to greet him, determined to follow the advice that Charlotte had just given him. He wanted to be the person he was, before his stressful life turned him into a bundle of nerves, always ready to shoot at the wrong moments, to those who didn't deserve it at all.

"Hey."

"Come here."

Lucas opened his arms and squeezed Jens, pressing his lips against his. The boy was surprised by that sudden gesture and didn’t react right away , as he was no longer used to his boyfriend’s display of affection. That reaction was immediately noticed by Lucas, but he didn’t say anything, although he felt a little sadder than before.

"I missed you so much."

"Why are you being so sweet? You're creeping me out."

"What? I'm always sweet to you."

Jens kicked off his shoes near the door and headed to their bedroom, followed by Lucas.

"You used to. Now you're only sweet when you're super drunk or tired and when we fuck."

" When we fuck . And I'm the one who's never sweet."

"When we make love. Sounds better?"

"Yeah, yeah. It does actually."

"You're being weird."

Lucas sat on the bed, watching his boyfriend's every move, as he was taking off his clothes, probably to take a shower. He wasn't immune to the summer heat either. His skin was sheered by a thin layer of sweat, and his hair was a mess, but he still looked like a daydream.

"Jens."

"What?"

He didn’t know whether to bring that matter up or not, but he felt he had to, even if he was afraid. Lucas hoped he could make things right, even if Jens didn't seem in his usual relaxed mood.

"I'm sorry if I had been a shitty boyfriend lately."

"Are you sick? I'm calling the doctor."

"C'mon! I'm being serious."

"Okay. Sorry. Let's talk."

Jens sat next to him on the bed, but he didn't try to touch him in any way, and Lucas noticed that too, of course. He knew his boyfriend’s manner, and that evening, it was as if he weren’t himself, or perhaps he had been like that for a long time, but Lucas’s stupid self-centered behavior had prevented him from noticing it. He began to fear, that the evening would turn out very differently than he had expected. His hands were shaking, and he hid them under his legs. He didn't want to be seen as weak, but he couldn't help but think, that, his Jens, not the one in front of him, would have noticed it anyway.

"We're not together only because we're used to be in a relationship, right?"

"It kind of feels like it sometimes."

"And why you didn’t tell anything?"

"Because you had a lot going on and I didn’t want to be a burden for you, so I just let things flow until they got to this point."

"What point, Jens?"

"Luc, I love you, but- I don't even know what it is, but it shouldn't be a but after that."

"No, it shouldn't be."

He closed his eyes because he wanted to cry, he couldn’t believe what was happening, but he deserved it. He had made him feel, as if the person he loved the most in the world, had been replaced by a clone that only looked like him.

Lucas hadn’t fallen in love with Jens for his appearance, but for his kindness, the attention he always had for him, his love, his sweetness. All those things were gone now, there was just that guy in front of him, who was a stranger.

"Jens, I had been a shitty boyfriend to you, and I wanted to fix things up. I wanted to kiss you and say that I’m sorry, but I know you, and I’m realizing just now, like the clueless idiot that I am, that it’s probably too late."

"You're not an idiot."

"But it's too late."

"I always wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, Luc, then you started to change and I tried to make things work for both of us, but now I'm tired, and I don't know if I wanna do this anymore."

"Okay."

The room fell silent, and it was so heavy that neither of them dared to carry on the conversation. There was only one way it could end. Lucas felt his heart pounding in his chest and he wanted to cry and scream all his pain to Jens, but he had promised Charlotte not to let his emotions take over. Thus, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and he was about to succeed when the other found the courage to speak again.

"I think we should break up."

Lucas stood up without adding a word, and left the bedroom, going to the front door. He quickly put on his shoes, took the keys of his bike’s lock, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

It was movie night at the Driesen-Ijzermans house, and this time it was Sander's turn to choose what to watch, which always turned into torture.

Robbe sometimes thought, his boyfriend choose only long and boring film s on purpose, just to test his patience, and their relationship was well beyond the stage where one pretends to be interested in everything the other likes, just to impress him.

The only good thing about that evening was being able to snuggle up with Sander on the couch.

"This movie is so fucking boring."

"It's a classic!"

"It's a black and white movie in Russian with German subtitles, Sander."

"So?"

"I don't speak Russian or German and neither do you."

"It's not about what they say, baby."

"Sander, I swear to god, if you start again with the aesthetic thing!"

A notification appeared on Robbe's phone, and he silently thanked whoever was his savior.

"Oh my god!"

"What?"

"I think Lucas wanna ask Jens to marry him!"

"Excuse me?"

"Jens just told me he found a ring in one of Lucas' drawers."

"Wow!"

Sander paused the film, momentarily panicking. Jens had found the ring they had bought that morning for Robbe. The one Lucas should have kept safe until the right time came. Clearly, he had placed too much hope in his best friend’s abilities.

"So he didn’t tell you anything."

"No."

"Weird."

"Well. Maybe he knew, I would tell you straight away and you're Jens' best friend so...”

" Makes sense. I'm so happy for them, though! "

"Wait, he's calling. I have to get this."

He picked up the phone and got up from the couch, quickly leaving the room. He was furious with Lucas and hoped that the other had a valid explanation for what had just happened.

"Lucas, what the hell?"

"Hello? I'm one of the paramedics who helped Mr. Van der Heijden. Am I talking to one of his relatives?"

"I'm his best friend. What happened?"

"I can’t tell you the details, sir, but he had an accident, and we’re rushing him to the hospital. Can I have one of his family member's number?"

"I can give you his boyfriend's number."

"No, sorry, as I already tell you, it has to be a family member."

" Fuck, Jens is his family! They have been together for 7 years now!"

Sander raised his voice. He felt frustrated. That same situation could have happened to him and Robbe. Even though they were raising a child together, formally they weren't a family yet, and it broke his heart.

He felt his boyfriend's hands closing around his bicep. Robbe must have heard him raise his voice and got worried.

"Look, I'll call someone else."

"Okay, fine, I’ll give you his father’s number, but he doesn’t live here in Antwerp anymore."

"Thanks, and I’ll tell him to put you r and his boyfriend’s name on the visitor’s list, so you won’t have problems."

"Thanks."

He hung up the phone and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His heart was in his throat. Anything could have happened. He looked Robbe in the eye with a completely lost look. He didn't even know where to start.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. They just told me Lucas had an accident, and they wanted his father's number."

"What? I just spoke to Jens and he didn’t tell me anything!"

"I think we should tell him, and go to the hospital."

"Yeah, I’ll call him. You call your mom and see if she can come here to stay with Hero."

He thanked the universe once again for having Robbe at his side. He knew how to stay calm in any situation and that was exactly what he needed. Before leaving, Robbe stroked his cheek, looking him in the eye s firmly.

"Sander, it's gonna be fine."

[previous] / [next]

#wtfock #wtfam #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #van der stoffels #vds #carrying the moon #chapter 14

17 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

Text

V. Exhibit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: After all your hard work, the day is finally here. A/N: Part 5 of Mystery of Love.

The following month passed by in a hurry, as your thoughts were dominated by the constant thrall of work. One month was truly not enough to prepare, but you knew the implications of waiting until June passed- those positions in the fall would likely not be available; June was late enough.

Tony eagerly sprang into action and helped you transform your guest room into a photography studio, begrudgingly folding to your “outrageous peasant demands” of simple lighting, and two solid backdrops. When it was fully set up, you held a meeting with the team and prepped them over procedure and your proposal. You spoke plainly.

The show to view your work post-travels was primarily a guise to get a glimpse into their lives more intimately; you were under no illusion that it was anything else but 1) a shrewd plan for elites to rub elbows with other elites and 2) an opportunity for you.

Honesty was the best policy, and you knew they would appreciate it.

“If you consent to have your posed portrait taken by me in a studio setting- something we haven’t done before, thank you. If you don’t, I don’t blame you or hold it against you. It can be unnatural, uncomfortable, and I understand. Be aware- these images will be auctioned off. They will not, however, be duplicated. They are single prints.”

“Please make me rich.” Tony grinned as he spun freely in the swivel chair, “I mean, richer. Please make me richer.” After a round of glares from the team, he fessed, “Oh fine. Yes, you’ll receive a portion of the payment. You greedy little assholes.”

It didn’t take much more convincing for everyone to be on board. You were eager to begin and spent the first few days of June taking note of the kinds of images you wanted from each member. You thought about the representation of duality of Avenger and “being” whether it was human, super soldier, or an enhanced- or in Thor’s case, a god. But in the end, you decided on listening to Bucky’s advice and give ‘em hell. They were going to play by your rules.

Halfway through the month, you were so engrossed in the work, you’d barely had time to spend with either Steve or Bucky. They were sweet enough to make sure you had plenty of coffee on your days at the compound and would try to call before bed if you were in the city. Other than the occasional dinners together and their own photo sessions (which you were adamant on keeping strictly professional-save for a very stubborn session with Bucky), you hardly saw them.

Steve was called away on a diplomatic assignment with Natasha in Paris on the 13th. You were happy to hear that he wouldn’t be in any foreseeable danger and a tiny bit glad that he’d be busy doing something other than worried about your sleeping and eating habits. By the 24th, everything was nearly complete, and the only thing left for you to do was buy a dress and set up for the night of. You felt like a pile of wet rags and had even lost a few pounds from the stress and exertion.

The morning of the 26th, Steve and Natasha landed at the compound, disembarking from the quinjet. You were taking the day off to find a dress in the city; Tony had given you his credit card. It was a tremendous gesture you wanted to refuse until he reminded you that truthfully, you were doing him just as big of a favor as he was doing you. He had even encouraged you to get a custom gown early in the month and even passed the message along to various designers, but you adamantly refused, reiterating once again that it was not about you. Tony would have to face the disappointment of being the only one in a custom-made ensemble.

At 11, while rifling through a rack of silk and lace beauties, you received a call from Bucky.

“Hey, you,” you smiled. He’d been texting you all morning, updating you on Steve’s jet lag. “Can I come to you for lunch?” You sucked in a deep breath. “Buck, you sure? I’m in Manhattan.” “Yeah. Send me your location.”

There was no arguing with him when he made up his mind.

When Bucky arrived on 5th Avenue, he wore a black long-sleeve and jeans with his usual combat boots. You couldn’t help but smile at the classic cap and sunglasses combo as he plodded through the throng of tourists- looking very much like one himself. His hair was tied back to avoid sticking to his neck in the heat. He kissed your shoulder at the entrance of the store and you grazed his stubbled chin with a finger in response.

The walk to your favorite sandwich shop was relatively short, and Bucky let you lead the way, keeping a hand on the small of your back to keep you close. The two of you sat at the bar near the window after your food arrived and you let him know your surprise at his offer to meet you in the city. He shrugged it off as he took the sunglasses off his face.

“When I was on the run, I placed myself in different locations, but it was often smartest to hide in plain sight. Bucharest has a population of over a million people ‘n they’re so busy they don’t pay attention to much else; I don’t go into the city mostly because I don’t like it, hon’.” He took a bite of his sub and you did the same, snorting in delight when a bit of lettuce hung from his chin. Bucky rolled his eyes and sent you a lopsided grin before closing his mouth again over the sub, muttering. “You’re a punk.”

You felt laughter bubbling up in your chest as he swiped off the lettuce and flung it at you.

This was the Bucky you liked the most- playful, mischievous, still sweet in the center. Not to say there were parts of him you disliked, but you were careful with his more jagged pieces. The Bucky who scanned every room he entered, who always strapped at least three knives to his body, who scowled on impulse, who automatically put himself in front of you in response to loud noises needed more tenderness. The Bucky who texted you at three in the morning “just to see if you were awake” needed more tenderness, too.

The first time you woke up to one of those messages, you joked that he reminded you of a college boy making a booty call. Only after seeing him bleary eyed and on-edge did you ponder more deeply about it and ventured to ask if he had trouble sleeping because of nightmares.

He admitted he truly saw little in his dreams, but felt chasms that threatened to swallow him up, and the terror of that blackness kept him awake. You knew what awaited him in that blackness. Since then, you’ve always kept your phone on loud.

“Stevie got you a dress from Paris,” Bucky mumbled, wiping the corners of his mouth with a brown napkin, hiding the slightest hint of a smirk. “I don’t think it’s your style, though.”

You raised an eyebrow, sweeping bits of crust into the empty wrapper of your lunch. “Oh yeah? Steve picked it out? What’s it like?”

“It’s red. ‘S real nice, but it’s also red.”

You scrunched up your nose in concern. “Oh… I hope it won’t hurt his feelings if I don’t wear it.”

Bucky went to throw both of your crumpled trash piles away and returned with an understanding smile, “Nah. He’s a big boy. Party’s in two days, though. If you don’t find anything you’re gonna get stuck with it, hon.”

Sighing, you stood up and brushed off your shirt, “Yeah. I’ll look some more. I put a dress on hold earlier so if I don’t find anything else, I’ll go back to that one. Thanks for having lunch with me, Bucky.” You pulled absentmindedly on his shirt sleeve and tugged the wrinkles out of the elbow. Bucky took the opportunity to bend down and plant a kiss on your jawline, whispering that he missed you into your cheek.

“I’m not leavin’,” he said, removing the sunglasses that were hanging from the collar of his shirt, “Haven’t seen you in days, doll. I’m not leavin’ yet.”

The definitive statement was punctuated by another one of his keen stares. You swallowed as his clear blue eyes flitted back and forth between your own, finally settling on your mouth as you nervously breathed out a soft “Okay”. Your heart swelled in your chest as he smiled. You couldn’t help but lovingly follow the sly arc of his lips across and up to those joyful creases you so adored running from his eyes. Happy Bucky was your favorite Bucky. You wanted to make him look like this all the time. You felt so terrible that you’d been so busy and avoiding him.

Impulsively, you reached up and kissed him on the lips.

It was quick, and you stood back flat on your feet, hand shooting up to cover your mouth. Fearfully, you took a chance to peek at him. The two of you stood there next to the window staring at each other for a few seconds before Bucky broke out into a wide toothy grin.

You flushed from head to toe. Your first kiss. In a sandwich shop. The banality of it all dawned on you and before you had the chance to say anything, Bucky broke the silence with a hearty laugh. Soon enough, you joined in, burying your face in both your hands. People were starting to glance over to the window and stare, so Bucky grabbed you by the hand and briskly stepped out into the street. He caught your waist to turn you to face him, pressing your back against the brick wall of the shop. The chatter of Manhattan whipped around both of you in the background, full of footsteps and yelling, honking, dogs barking, construction. Bucky Barnes held tight to your sides as if you might get torn into in the sea of people behind him.

Under the shade of his cap’s bill, you could hardly see his eyes, but the light illuminated his mouth, which was pressed into a thin line.

You squinted as sunlight fell over your face, “Buck?”

The intensity of Bucky crashing his lips to yours ripped the breath from your lungs. He stepped forward into your body, pressing his broad chest against you, flesh hand pushing your torso against his. In the middle of the sidewalk, he erased all the noise of Manhattan. You could only hear his breath on your mouth as he parted and returned again and again. Three deep kisses later, he let you go.

You gulped, heart stammering, lost completely in ragged breaths and desperately trying to ignore the eyes of passing strangers who’d witness your moment of public affection. You had seen this coming for a while now, but it was still a shock.

Ever since the day on the couch, you had been trying to avoid physical intimacy, but it had been difficult to experience growing closer with Bucky and simultaneously disregard his longing for your touch. He was always holding back, like a predator in the tall grass.

“I wanna do so much more than that…” He whispered in your ear. His voice was deep, and you could hear his throat clenching as he swallowed. The sound burrowed its way into your brain, sending currents scampering through your body.

Bucky ran his hand along your jaw, one final kiss landing on the shell of your ear as he muttered, “When you’re ready, I will. Come on, you lead the way.”

All you could do was nod in response as he guided you in front of him, one hand resting again on your back as you tried to stay calm in the crowd. In a few mere minutes, the street changed as you turned a corner. Your heart was beginning to slow down again.

“I’m curious, doll,” Bucky called from behind you, running a finger up and down the small of your back, “What color was that dress you put on hold?”

From the way his words sounded, you knew he was smirking. “It was black.” You swerved to the side to avoid a man pushing a stroller and Bucky followed suit. Craning your head back to see his expression, your heart sped up again either by his tightening grip or his subsequent praise:

“Atta girl.”

The last Saturday in June was the 28th. Pepper had demanded that you stayed at your apartment until the evening of, setting you up with a full-day spa appointment on Friday. According to her (and your very exhausted body) you needed rest and pampering before the big night. She also insinuated that Tony was being incredibly high-strung with setting up; he wanted it to be a surprise, and if you’d step foot on the campus before he was ready, he might completely “lose it Bridezilla-style”.

You’d been video-chatting Steve at night on the phone before bed since spending the day with Bucky. He was at first disappointed that you decided not to wear the dress he’d gotten you but ultimately understood why: red was a high-profile color. He sheepishly admitted that he was a bit old-fashioned, and was a sucker for women in red. It was cute. You suggested that he ask Natasha instead.

Your heart swelled any time his face came on the screen and you couldn’t help but stupidly grin every night into the phone. He told you about the trip and his desire to one day take you to the city, glossing over the details of the errand itself. You didn’t mind- it wasn’t your job, and you likely wouldn’t have understood its significance. He brought up how he was concerned at first that the distance would cause discomfort- but perhaps it was the consent to distance that changed the rules. You knew where he was going and accepted it, and so neither of you were pained by the separation.

“Maybe on the more peaceful missions, you might like to come with me? It’d be like travelling again, huh?” You agreed, eager to see another endearing smile break across his face. You loved the way Steve closed his eyes as he smiled, long lashes folding to graze against his raised cheeks- it was a habit of his, and it made you curious to wonder what he thought of during those blissful expressions.

After your long spa day you ended your night with another video call, feeling the excitement growing closer and closer, emboldened by Steve’s encouragements. More changes were coming on the horizon and you felt ready to face them. You were glad to have both men by your side.

Promptly at 5, Pepper sent a car outside to wait outside your apartment door. The invitation you’d proofread for Tony stated that doors opened at 6:30 with a cocktail hour and viewing period before any announcements were made. You would be giving a talk at 8, unveiling the main auction piece at the end and then there would be a bidding period before the night unwinds with dancing. The event supposedly ended at midnight, but you were sure that was Tony’s way of ushering out the guests. You weren’t going to assume he’d turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of 12.

Blotting on the final layer of your lip stain, you swept over it with a coat of high-shine gloss. Your make up was done simply: filled in, full, arching brows; barely-there contouring to emphasize your bone structure; peach blush; and a single smooth black line over both your eyelids. Your hair was brushed back and tucked behind your ears, flowing over your shoulder in neat waves.

You wanted to be sleek and able to blend in, with just a touch of red-lipped-conspicuous.

Stepping into the lobby, you felt as if transported into a different world. Tony had transformed the chamber into a flawless gallery setting with your photographs, framed and displayed along the perimeter of the open-spaced room. He’d put in wall panels here and there along with several benches where viewers could sit, arranging it perfectly to where there was plenty of walking space and room to mingle. Along the right wall was an elegant backlit bar manned by three sharply dressed bartenders with dazzling smiles. Close by was a stage with a band plucking a lazy acoustic tune in their warm-up routine, accompanied by a harpist. Gorgeous floral arrangements stood tall on pedestals, their sweet scent hanging in the air. Servers wandered casually, silver trays in hand topped with hor d'oeuvres and champagne.

The first few guests were arriving, picking up pamphlets from the stand near the door and meandering through the maze of photos. The team was scattered around the room, dressed beautifully, all smiles. Natasha hypnotized in the stunning red gown Steve picked out. It was striking with an elegant sweetheart neckline and brocade skirt. Pepper wore violet tulle. Wanda was smoldering in a lacy brown long-sleeved dress.

The men were simply dashing, in various dark suits offset by their own choices of silk bowties and shirts. Sam’s collar brooches glimmered- two mirroring silver wings clipped neatly to the points of his muted garnet shirt collar.

Halfway to the bar, you came face-to-face with Steve, who wore a fitted deep navy suit and dress shirt, complimented by a silk burgundy tie. His hair- which had grown longer since you’d last seen him in person was swept back and to one side. He was clean shaven for the event. You realized you were staring, but it helped that he was staring right back.

“You look...”

“Oh m...my” You attempted to finish the sentence for him. Steve laughed, shrugging one shoulder, the drink in his hand sloshing around.

“Not quite what I was going to say- but very close.” He paused, looking you up and down before sweeping you up in a one-armed hug and whispering in your ear “I’ve missed you so much. You look incredible.”

Once back on your feet, you smoothed the front of your black dress and shyly smiled in response, feeling your heart flutter. The snug gown was made of a satin blend, moving and shifting ethereally and just barely swept the floor. Two hair-thin spaghetti straps held it in place, crisscrossing over your back. The neckline was a darting V-shape, stopping just half an inch above Steve’s mark.

You’d convinced yourself to be calm and cool, playing the part of a professional artist giving a talk, but it was hard to not be giddy when Steve looked so damn good. His arms were practically bulging out from the sleeves of his jacket. And the lightly spiced cologne he wore was filling your head up with smoke.

“Where’s um, Bucky?” You ventured to ask, steeling your voice.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

Bucky rolled the last ‘r’ into your ear as he placed his cool metal hand on your bare shoulder, middle finger drumming against the thin strap. You stirred at the temperature, burning against your back as he moved to your right side, smirking at Steve. They must have planned this, you thought, or perhaps brevity between old friends was enough to place them on the same dangerous wavelength. You felt like a fresh carcass, exposed under sunlight while two ravenous vultures circled overheard.

He was dressed completely in black, save for a blood-red pocket square neatly tucked into the breast of his suit. His hair was left loose, one side tucked behind his ear, and he donned his signature 5 o’clock shadow. He didn’t bother to cover his metal hand tonight, which made him all the more fearsome-looking. Bucky must have made it his mission to personify the word feral.

Half-lidded eyes drank in your figure, appreciatively scanning up and down before catching on your left bicep. “You’ve covered up your arm,” He noticed. “Why?” The was an edge of hurt he tried to hide.

The offending black cuff glimmered in the light. “Same reason why I didn’t wear the red.” You replied. You lifted your chin to regard Bucky and he raised his eyebrows in surprise at your declaration.

Steve bobbed his head, just enough to share the message that he understood before plucking a champagne flute from a passing server and placing it in your grasp. You sipped and signaled to the entrance of the exhibit with your stiletto-encased foot, where Kristopher Byrne had just entered with a pamphlet and Tony Stark. “I’ve got to go say hi. Thank you for supporting me.”

It was a conclusive statement, and the thanks, although sincere, was a comment of courtesy to lighten the mood. You quickly squeezed both of their arms before stepping away, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders. The show had just begun, and you were expected to be engaged and conversing all night; you couldn’t kick it off with a lovers’ quarrel in the middle of the floor as much as you wanted to resolve the matter. Bucky would have struggled and there were, unfortunately, other pressing concerns.

The band began to belt out a tune, mellow and full of slow, savory notes. The lobby was half-full at this point, and more were waiting by the door. The boys watched you go, exchanging glances. Bucky was scowling.

“Don’t be like that,” Steve warned, “You got to spend all day with her, pal.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” He was being petulant, he knew. It was easier to be angry than to admit that his feelings were hurt. “Don’t lecture me, Stevie. Just wanna fuckin’ be with her. I’m tired of all this… shit.”

Steve chuckled into his glass as he took a sip, savoring the taste and looking at his friend through the curved angle of the rim. He’d experienced his fair share of Bucky’s seething tantrums; he knew it’d pass.

“Gotta admit, Buck. I liked seein’ ya miffed. You need a firm hand.”

Bucky scowled deeper at his friend’s cheeky comment as he watched your back make nice with a stranger. The itch inside of him was growing darker with every step you took away. He’d been good, played it safe and slow by your- and Steve’s rules, but every time it felt like you might scratch the surface of his desire, you’d backed off. Seeing his mark covered up on your arm only made it worse.

Sending Steve a pained look, Bucky quietly retreated to the bar.

Kristopher Byrne was a tall and lanky man with silver hair, fingers studded with multiple rings and designer glasses sitting low on his nose-bridge. The suit he wore matched Tony in embellishments, and it was obvious by that alone that they got along swimmingly. Immediately after introducing yourself to him, his solemn expression softened into an ecstatic one. He kissed your hand, raving about how he’d been a fan for years but that you’d always eluded his grasp. You immediately thanked him and asked if he was ready for a stroll through the displays.

Byrne was very interested in the photos you’d taken in Russia, pausing to talk about the social unrest there regarding sexuality. He applauded your shots in Thailand, complimenting the rich colors of Chiang Mai and the quiet moments you captured.

You spent the next half hour walking through the photos with Tony and Byrne, chatting here and there with other guests who had questions. The information cards next to each picture was brief and explained a little bit about the image but hearing it from your point of view was much more valuable to them.

Tony set up the exhibit to first show your Peculiar Pairs series from the travels before introducing the Avengers photos. The range of colors started at full spectrum and highly saturated with your travels before slowly changing into the black and white portraits you shot of each member.

Upon entering the space of black-and-white portraits, he was greeted with a three-by-four-foot framed photo of Steve in stark lighting. He stood in front of a black background in a white t-shirt, looking into the distance as a bright halo illuminated him from behind, catching the fine contour of his lashes and the tip of his sharp nose. The features of his face were lit by another light in front. His expression was almost angelic with parted lips and the barest hint of a smile.

Byrne’s eyes widened as he regarded it, eager to uncover more information about the man captured in the image. The info card in the corner simply read Steven Grant Rogers.

You watched on as Byrne rotated himself around the frame, pondering deeply at Steve’s aspects. Tony smirked and made a snarky comment about how he hoped Byrne was this excited about his own picture.

“Captain America,” Byrne finally exhaled, “Looks like … someone you could sit next to on the subway. Wow. Fantastic.”

You thanked him. Perhaps it was your bias speaking, but you casually mentioned that it was one of your personal favorites. Tony stifled a barking cough.

Byrne led the way down the path, soliciting your process with each session. You were tight-lipped but let loose of what was necessary to keep him interested. It didn’t take much; there was nowhere else neither he nor any other guest could find a close-up portrait of Natasha wrapped tight in a bathrobe, hair wrung-dry and damp, chin resting on her fist, making such fierce eye-contact as if challenging the gaze of the person who’d caught her in a private moment.

Or Tony, a face well-known to smirk, sneer, and blow kisses, suddenly severe and deep in thought, tinted glasses hanging from his teeth.

Thor grinned behind a half-empty glass of beer in his portrait. Sam was reading a book. Bruce was cutting up a breakfast of an omelet and potatoes.

Bucky’s photo elicited gasps from Byrne as well as the crowd he’d started to draw around him. The session you had with him was rather difficult, since he challenged you at every turn. So many images from your roll you’d deemed too stern, an aspect that you didn’t want captured of Bucky. The Winter Soldier was grim and ominous. Bucky, your Bucky (as hesitant as that statement was), was not. You refused to let him resign himself to the Soldier’s shadowy persona, especially not after knowing just how bright he could be.

It had taken almost two hours of careful conversation for him to let you turn off the lights and put on music. You chose to play one of your favorites- a collection of Bill Withers’ essential hits, letting the suave compositions fill the room. He was ready to argue when the first few notes came on, but you strictly shook your head and brushed out his hair with your fingers before moving on to massage his tense neck. Jagged edges, you chanted in your head, take care of those jagged edges.

It was an intimate moment from anyone else’s point of view- but you were so occupied with ensuring a good photo, you had willfully ignored all signs of pleasure from your subject. He leaned into your touch the harder you pressed, and when you reached down the round collar of his black shirt to feel the muscles of his back, he had started panting hard and fast.

You asked him to freeze and quickly ran back to snap a few shots. Then, certain you’d gotten what you needed, you ushered Bucky out of the room with a short apology before anything escalated.

The resulting photograph was Bucky’s side-profile leaning back on the palms of his hand on a stool, grey background blurred and out of focus. The collar of his shirt was stretched and warped around his neck under dense wavy hair. His eyes were half open, distracted by something in the distance, lips closed, corners turned down in a wanton pout. The muscles in his arms were thick and contracted as he gripped forcefully on the seat. There was a fuzzy shadow cast over him, just enough to obscure a corner of his shoulder and clenched jaw.

The card read, James Buchanan Barnes.

Kristopher Byrne clapped and ran the back of his hand over his forehead.

“This one… just takes my breath away. This is really Sergeant Barnes? The Winter Soldier? He looks so helpless… So unlike the image I have of him.”

You searched across the expanse of the room to find the sergeant in question. Next to him, Steve firmly patted his shoulder as they watched you stand beneath Bucky’s picture. With a slight swing of your hips, you unflinchingly moved on.

At 8, the band winded down their percussions and a spotlight found Tony at the center of the lobby, microphone in hand. Guests gathered around as he began to speak. Two workers wheeled out a display that was covered up by a black cloth.

“Everyone, may I please have your attention.” When the crowd settled down enough for his liking, he continued effortlessly. “I’d like to formally welcome you to the exhibition. The photographer of the night is a friend of mine; you might know her as the visionary behind the popular Soulmate Series and the subsequent Peculiar Pairs- wow, what a mouthful, huh?” A round of soft chuckles was raised.

You stood next to Natasha and Pepper, taking a final sip of your third champagne flute before handing it off to a server and thanking him. Your heart was picking up a rhythm in apprehension of your approaching time to speak. Tony was leaps and bounds more charming than you, and you could only hope you wouldn’t trip over your feet on your way up.

“She’s taken the world by storm with her humor, wit, and sensitivity on a subject we’ve all heard before, and continues to shed a novel light on Soulmates. To us here at the Avengers Facility, she’s our lovable Public Relations twerp, near and dear to our hearts.” He paused. You were positive you were tearing up as pinpricks burn your nasal passages.

“Please give a warm round of applause to the one, the only…”

Tony flourished his pointer finger over the crowd before finally settling on you, the spotlight zooming over to shine on the water pooling in your eyes. He finally called out a boisterous thundering of your name as the room erupted in applause.

The room blurred as you stepped towards Tony. Mechanical movements and muscle memory guided your actions when he gave you a loving hug and kiss on the cheek. The microphone was suddenly in your hands and you began to speak, praying for whatever god above (or here- Thor, if this might be your territory) to bless you with grace.

“Thank you everyone for coming out tonight. And thank you Tony and Pepper, who’ve made all of this possible for me.”

It felt like there were half a million eyes staring. You only needed to find your footing in four blue ones. Pressing onward, you continued, hoping the quiver of your throat would flatten itself out as you began to chronicle your body of work. It was a speech you’d given before in multiple interviews, you just needed a lead into the meat of the lecture.

“The photos you see tonight of the Avengers were taken with a simple message in mind: humanity. So often we regard them as these supernatural saviors- which they can be and frequently are; Thor, for one, is an Asgardian god.” The crowd lightly chuckled, and Thor, in the back, raised a sizable glass of wine in the air.

“I didn’t want to create more cults of personality around them, I wanted you to see the parts of them you could identify with, juxtaposing the abnormal with the normal. Your heroes eat breakfast, read books, take baths... just like you.” There was contemplation gazing back at you in the massive sea of unblinking eyes. Some people chewed on their lips pensively. Others were nodding along in agreeance.

“They hurt, like you.” You looked at Bucky, who met your gaze with a silent apology, “They love, like you.” You looked at Steve, who bit his lips in a smile. “They have soulmates, like you. And with that, we come full circle.”

You turned your body to face the shrouded display and pinch the cloth between two fingers.

“I’d like to start the auction period off with piece de resistance. As with all our photos tonight, when you bid on them, know that if won, they will be singularly yours. Forever. No duplicates will be made; the files have been destroyed.” Tugging on the sheet with a flourish, you swiftly pulled it off the polished stand to reveal a framed photo of the Maximoff twins. The discarded fabric tumbled to the floor with a flutter.

Pietro stood shirtless and defiant in the photo, black jeans hanging from his hips, the barest hint of his boxers peeking out. His body was smooth and hard, naturally flawless thanks to his inhuman healing abilities. Next to him, Wanda faced away from the camera in a black racerback, her head turned to regard her twin. Her hand drew a line across his chest, wrist relaxed on his far shoulder, polished black fingernails lovingly twirled a bleached curl. Their Marks were in full view, and the audience collectively sucked in a sharp breath of surprise.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff: Avengers, twins, soulmates.”

The room erupted once more in applause. You handed the microphone back to Tony and disappeared into the crowd.

You felt ill.

Clutching on the smooth marble countertop, you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dim yellow lighting from the shell-shaped wall scone flooded the room and made you look even more jaundiced. You had held it together for a whole three hours but now it was time to dump your entire stomach’s contents into the closest toilet. You barely made it before the champagne and bits of cheese ejected violently from your mouth.

You waited briefly for the nausea to pass and when it didn’t you returned to discharge the rest of your vomit into the bowl. In the stall a few spaces down, someone flushed before cautiously exiting. Three clicks of footsteps closer and there was a very light knock on the door that separated you from them.

Wanda stood over you, eyebrows tightly knitted in concern. She hoisted you up and the toilet flushed automatically upon registering movement. You wobbled to the counter again, opening the various cabinet doors before finding some mouthwash to gargle.

“Can I help you?” She asked, taking a cloth napkin from the wicker basket in the middle and dabbing around your red mouth after you’d spit into the sink. You sighed deeply, holding your hand over your torso. “It’s been a long month… that was actually more cathartic than traumatic.” She nodded in support.

You took the napkin from her and viciously wiped off the lipstick with it, peppermint smell lingering from your mouth. Your eyes began to focus and un-focus competitively and ghostly trails of color floated all around your head. Wanda followed your gaze with her eyes before pressing a warm palm to your temple.

“I can take it away, if you’d like,” she held up a splayed hand, fingers crackling with that ghostly energy of hers. Exhaling, you only nodded as she returned the heel of her palm to your forehead. A rush of tingles travelled up your body and into her hand, and you feel every inch of your skin crawling towards her. You’d forgotten how exhausted you’ve been for the past month as your head throbbed and ached against Wanda’s touch, mumbling what you hoped was a sincere-sounding thanks.

When she finishes, Wanda lifts up your head with her finger and smiles. “All better, no?” When she walks you into the lobby, you feel yourself renewed with each step.

Steve thinks he can find you in any universe out there. Any timeline. Any dream. He’s got the shape of your body branded inside his brain. Every eyelash, every fine line, every damn pore.

When you cross the room with Wanda on your arm, smiling, he notices the lipstick has been rubbed off and your mouth is pink and raw. When you catch sight of him watching, Wanda departs gracefully and whispers into your ear a sweet note, wishing you a fruitful night onward. Your mind stills at her words, and your heart picks up a slow, steady beat when your feet end up in front of Steve at the edge of the room.

Steve knows he can.

He bends over to pull a lock of wavy hair into his hand and kiss it. The room is silent, conversations have long muted because of auction taking place. You’re no longer present, long gone from the party and adrift only in the blue-green sea of his gaze.

Steve allows the strands back onto your shoulder and they cascade over your back. He lets the scent of clean shampoo and something that is purely you wash over him. The crisp smell of seafoam and orange peels, summer rain, warm laundry in the sun. There’s a sheen layer of sweat in the dip of your neck that he’d love to get a mouthful of. The flame in his chest triggers.

He’ll have to thank Wanda later. Your posture is the most relaxed he’s seen you all night. The stiff square shoulders and domineering gait was a side of you he hadn’t seen before, a sight he couldn’t help but feel proud of as you commanded the room. However, he loved the natural you in front of him now most.

He doesn’t have to hear your words to know how you feel, but listens anyway.

“Thank you,” You smile, looking only at him, vaguely gesturing to the room full of people. Your voice has dropped low and earnest and you squeeze his hand just a little bit before anyone else sees. “I... I couldn’t have done this without you. I would have never done it.”

He nods and bows his head ever so slightly, peering at you through lashes. “I’m happy to have helped. You know that, sweetheart. I know you’re capable of so many great things… I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He rubs the edge of your mouth with a finger.

“Yeah.. I guess you’re used to seeing me like this, huh?” You giggle, embarrassed and remembering all the times you’ve thrown up because of his presence.

“I think even then, I had a feeling. Just… too afraid to come forward. After I learned how to use a computer…” He’s smiling at the memory, “..I used to spend all night looking at your photos… trying to find a picture of you somewhere.”

The thought of Steve, back then, already captivated by anything to do with you causes your breathing to pick up. You suck in air through your nostrils quickly as if you might be suffocating. A long moment passes as you pinch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Honey?” He asks with a smile. He knows what’s coming.

You’re spellbound in his gaze, trapped like a moth, wings already soldered off by the flame. “I’d like to stay the night, I think. With you... and … B-Bucky.”

Steve plucks your hand from your side and kisses each knuckle. “Of course. Tony already said he’ll handle the rest of the show and paperwork. Let me know when you’re ready to go. We’ll take it slow.”

It’s a promise, and he doesn’t have to wait for your next words to know what you want. But he does so anyway. He needs to hear it.

“I’m... ready now.”

When Steve slips his hand over yours and feels the familiar pulse of your thumbprint, he knows. In this universe, this lifetime, or the next, or the next after that, he’d be able to find you. He is yours; you are his. With every step, he lets the fantasies he’s been occupied with disperse, focusing his attention solely on your figure at his side. The hallway muffles the sounds of the party and each step grows louder as you depart hand-in-hand.

In the darkness of his room, your Soulmate kneels and unbuckles the strap of your stiletto, letting his fingers graze over your feet. He’s meticulous as he slips them off one at a time before trailing those calloused palms up your calves underneath the dress. The silky cool fabric brushes his knuckles, a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. You’re trembling against his hold as he continues upward, resting them on the back of your thighs, squeezing gently.

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking.” He presses two kisses to the top of each thigh underneath the dress. His hot breath sends tingles slinking upwards into the pit of your core. “We can stop any time. We can stay in bed together and just sleep. I’d love that.”

You shake your head and place your hands over his, pulling them up even higher, over the apex of your bottom, brushing over your underwear, and catching in the tightness of the fabric. The motion is all he needs, and Steve deftly reaches up to untie the knotted bow at the small of your back.

The satin falls off your shoulders and pools at your feet.

Next Chapter

#marvel #mcu #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #soumate au #Mystery of Love heli0s #reader insert #fanfiction

957 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #314

“as above, so below / what you reap is what you sow / what you give comes back threefold / as above, so below”

What do you do for work? I'm currently unemployed. I only get paid now and again to do pictures for people. What would you ideally like to do for work? I'd love if I could just be a photographer. What are you doing in order to achieve this? Practice and shoving my extreme discomfort about it aside and trying to promote myself where possible and not in an overbearing manner. What do you think is the worst being on the planet? "Rapists, pedophiles, abusive people in general." <<<< This. Anyone who disrespects the existence of other and equal people. Have you ever been arrested? If so, what for? No. How big an age gap is between you and your siblings? My immediate sisters and I are two years apart. My half-siblings, I don't know. I don't have their ages memorized, but I do know 5+ years, some even 10. Do/did your siblings cause trouble? Not really, we were good kids. What's your dream vehicle? I don't really have one. Are you good at taking care of your finances? What finances? And I don't mean that happily. What's your favorite comic strip? I don't have one. How many people have you texted today? Zero. Someone cheats. Second chance? Nope, byyyyeeeee. Thoughts on kids? Clay that I'm not playing with. Are you a risk taker? No. What are you listening to? I'm currently going through a phase of playing The Evil Within 2's theme nonstop, jc. Is/Was your high schools dress code strict? Not like, mega strict, but it still was overboard. No spaghetti strap shirts, and I even once got in trouble for wearing a floral mesh shirt, despite having a normal tanktop underneath it. It was weird, like no one had ever had a problem with it before, it was just this one teacher that I passed in the hall. Who was the last person to request you on a social media network - and did you accept? Someone I didn't know, so obviously not. Who was the last person’s vehicle that you rode in? Mom's. Who was the last person to make you laugh or smile, and why? Another current obsession of mine: John Wolfe, another let's player who I think is super funny. He said something that made me snicker before I turned on music and started this. Who was the last person that you took a photo with? My half-sister while she was visiting. Who was the last person to pay you a compliment, and what did they say? In group therapy the other day, one of the other women told me that even if I don't believe it, I bring so much positivity to group and she was really happy to be there while I am. I was so so super flustered but flattered, too. Who’s the last person that you visited in the hospital? My mom, following her surgery. Who is the last person that you lent money to? Actually today to Mom. What was the last food that you ate? I warmed up a burger for dinner. What did the last pair of footwear that you wore look like? They're just black flipflops. What was the last kind of bread that you ate? Just plain white bread. What was the last app that you downloaded to your phone? Oh wow, I never do this. I want to say it was a game for my niece. When was your last work shift? I haven't worked in a long time, so idk. When is the last time that you had trouble falling asleep? This is literally every single night. When was the last time you saw a significant other? I ain't got one'a those. When’s the last time that you took a risk? What was the risk? Well, I did say I'm not a risk-taker... Where was the last place that you went on vacation to? You know, how long does it have to be to be considered a "vacation?" I would say not since I went to the beach with an old friend, but it was literally a day. Where was the last place you got lost? uhhhhhhh Why did your last relationship fail? We need to work on ourselves before we could properly support each other and stay in a healthy mindset. Why did you leave your last job? I couldn't handle the stress of serving people and having so many responsibilities at once. How long has it been since you last visited a doctor? How about a dentist? I literally went to the doctor today because I had a follow-up appointment about my weight gain again. I haven't been to the dentist in a few months; I had a normal cleaning my last visit. How big was the last fish you caught? Oh boy, this is stretching years back. It was probably something small, idr at all. Give me the first initial of your last name? D. Something in your home that’s on its last leg(s)? We just moved here, so nothing that's a part of the house itself. As far as items we actually own, idk. Where do you purchase most of your clothes? I haven't gotten new clothes in so long, idk. I would probably say Hot Topic. Describe your skincare routine. I don't have one, if I'm being honest. I just shower. What’s your typical morning routine look like? I don't have one of those, either. The only thing that's consistent is going to the bathroom, eating, and taking my meds. Even brushing my teeth, the time of day when I do that (if I'm not leaving the house) varies. Then it's time to just binge stuff on YouTube and do whatever on the laptop... Are you still playing Animal Crossing? I've never played it, actually. How has the pandemic specifically affected you? It's caused a lot of stress worrying about my mom falling ill, given her being immunocompromised. It's also held me back from searching for another job (even though I don't know what I'd go for, anyway...), because I absolutely refuse to risk bringing Covid into this house by leaving it daily or whatever. What is your main source of anxiety? Being mentally ill, really. It just affects a lot. Any bands or artists you’ve recently discovered? Not very recently, no. What kind of games do you play on your phone? Just Pokemon GO nowadays. Do you have a specific aesthetic? It varies. I love dark, gothic, and gory stuff, but then I also love everything pink and pastel?????? Pastel gore is especially where it's at. Describe the moment you realized you were falling in love with someone. I'd rather not. What’s your favorite sparkling water brand/flavor? I've never even tried it before. What’s your favorite makeup brand/brands? I don't wear nearly enough makeup to be even remotely familiar with any. What’s your all-time favorite movie? It'll probably always be The Lion King. Do you have any subscription boxes? No, but they're cool. What fictional creature would you like as a pet? On deviantART today I actually discovered a fantastic artist who does a lot of HTTYD fanart, and I would say as a dragon lover, Toothless would be soooo great. Have any local businesses closed that you’re sad about? I'm certain tons have closed, but none come to mind. How do you feel about TikTok? I don't feel anything about it. Did you/do you still have a Neopets account? Haha I've had like... two or three at different stages in my life. What were you doing at 9 o'clock this morning? That's actually when (virtual) group therapy starts. Are you wearing any jewelry? Yeah; my piercings (if you count them) and then two rings that I always have on. Are you good at hiding disappointment? No. I'm bad at hiding my emotions because they're so strong. What happened the last time you cried? lmaooo I was finishing watching a The Evil Within 2 LP yesterday, and like, the last hour or so of the game just rips me apart. I was hoping so bad that my mom didn't pass by and ask what the problem was. What would your parents be surprised to learn about you? Both would be stunned to know the situation I had with Joel/my former best friend's boyfriend when I was around 12. What fictional character do you have the biggest crush on? dARKIPLIER Where would you live if you could live anywhere in the world? When all things are considered, like laws, seeing family, etc., somewhere in Canada, or maybe Alaska. Actually, Alaska would be really cool. What after school activities did you do in high school? I didn't have any, if you mean like, school sports and clubs. I did do dance once or twice a week, but it wasn't tied to my school. What’s the last book you really loved? I positively adored The Handmaid's Tale. If you could have been a child prodigy what would you have wanted to be skilled at? My writing was seen as very exceptional for my age as a kid, but it still would've been awesome if it was even better. If earth could only have one condiment for the rest of time, what would you pick to keep around? Uhhh I guess ketchup. I use that the most of all options. What is the scariest experience you have ever had? The night of the breakup. It was such an impossible concept to me that I genuinely thought my life was over, that I'd pull the plug at any moment. Who is a non-politician you wish would run for office? Oh, hunny, Markiplier lmao. Call it a bias all ya want, but he's just a genuinely incredible person that cares so much for everyone and is so serious about equality and just being a good person. Do you think it’s important to stay up to date with the news? It's very hypocritical of me to say, but yes, regardless. Do you own plants? If so, what kind of plants? If not, would you like to grow any? I've never been into growing plants, honestly. Is there a city that you have a particular fondness for? If so, what city is it and why? No, not really. When was the last time that you acted impulsively? Is this a common behavior for you? I dunno, I've gotten better at this. I probably said something I shouldn't have. If you received an allowance as a kid, what kinds of things would you buy with it? Were you more the type to save up for something big, or spend it on little things? I didn't get one. When you cuddle with someone, how do you prefer to position yourself? Would you rather be held, or do the holding? Or both? Are we sitting or lying down? Either way I think I have a tendency to lay my head on their chest while hugging them, and my legs generally curl up. If I'm upset, I definitely feel better and just a greater sense of safety if I'm the one being held, but if the roles are swapped, then I like to be the one doing the holding because I know that's what I want when I'm upset, so treat others how you wanna be treated, y'know. When you woke up today, did you find unread messages from anyone? No. Have you recently told anyone that you miss them? Yes. Can you recall the last time you turned down an offer, of any kind? Mom asked if I wanted to come with her to Ashley's a few days ago, but I said no. I wasn't in a social mood at all. Is there anyone you interact with every day on social media? No. What was the main character's name in the last fictional book you read? Sunny. Have you ever been rejected by a church? No. Is your family nice to you? Yeah. Are you comfortable with your gender? Yeah. What was your favorite Mary-Kate and Ashley film? I don't remember; we had a couple, though. What was your favorite book you had to read for school? The Outsiders. What was your favorite Nickelodeon show? ngl, I don't remember a lot of them and don't feel like looking up a list. Do you still live in the house you grew up in? No. Which Spice Girl was your favorite? I don't remember their names. Do you think you look the best you've ever looked? Oh hell no. Have you been hurt by religion? Yes, honestly. In Truth or Dare, would you rather choose Truth or Dare? I always choose "truth." Have you ever had more than one crush at once? Yeah, I think that's perfectly normal to feel, even for someone monogamous like myself. Just when you establish a relationship, then it's time to make a choice. What social issue do you care about most? This is hard to say with how passionately I hold my opinions, but probably LGBTQ+ rights. It's just... so disgusting to me that I was once homophobic. It's like I want to make up for it. Just the idea of being repulsed by love just because someone has "the wrong thing" in their pants is just... appalling. When was the last time you read a Bible? Many, maaaany years ago I started reading it, but I didn't get very far at all. Do you own a Bible? I personally don't, but I know Mom has one, maybe multiple. Do you discover new music regularly? No; I very much stick to what I know. It's great when I do, though, given that that's how I find new songs to repeat to the grave. What does your first name mean? "Of Britain" or something like that. What country do you live in? U.S.A. Do you believe that gays are born that way? Uh, yes? Who honestly believes a homosexual would *choose* to be in the discriminated minority? People are murdered and abused for simply their sexuality; no sane person would "choose" to risk that torture.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''as above so below'' by in this moment

2 notes · View notes

pug-bitch · 5 years ago

Text

Smiles every day (One-shot)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez and...another pairing but you’ve guessed by now :D

Rating: PG, but as always my foul mouth couldn’t help itself and let some bad words slip through the cracks :p.

Word count: about 2,500

Notes: This is set after the events of my previous one-shot, The Parent Trap! So, roughly 2+ years after the events of Book Two. I can’t help myself, I thought I would just not spoil anything in terms of Book Two, but I’m sure you guys are already seeing pretty clearly in everything I’m doing by now, so… let’s just enjoy this :D I hope you like!

*****

‘Knock knock!’

Maxwell peeks his head through the door before Amara can respond, and he’s immediately greeted by an overly excited Yoda.

‘Hey love,’ Amara says with a smile, ‘come in, don’t mind the mess.’

Maxwell looks around, thinking that the place is immaculate compared to his on a good day. Especially now. ‘Don’t get up!’ He warns, lowering himself to hug Amara where she’s sitting.

Ever since she and Drake told them about the pregnancy, after their return from Philly, Max has been completely overprotective of Amara, treating her as though she may break. Nothing bad can happen to his Little Blossom.

‘Can I make you some coffee? I was just doing some work, but it’s time for a break anyway.’

‘No!’ Max protests, ‘I can do it.’

Amara rolls her eyes. ‘You and Drake are exactly the same. I’m three months along, I’m not ready to pop yet. I can still make a coffee.’ She closes her laptop and gestures for Max to follow her to the kitchen. ‘That’s why I sent Drake to work. He hasn’t been at the restaurant since we got back, and he really needed to get out of my face.’ She chuckles.

Maxwell smiles warmly at her, all the while absentmindedly petting Yoda. ‘Sorry, Little Blossom. I completely understand his point of view, though, we both know how you can overdo it, so—‘

Amara holds up her hand to shut him up. ‘Alright, that’s enough pregnancy talk. Tell me about you, instead. How’s the big move-in treating you?’

Maxwell can’t contain his smile. ‘Oh, just awesome. I’m realizing how ready I was for this. We’re starting to really get our bearings, after all, it’s been a month now, and Callie seems to be really in love with the house, and the proximity to the Beaumont estate and the animals… We’re just having a blast.’ He pauses. ‘Amara, there’s something I need to tell you. Show you. I guess.’

Amara turns to him and hands him an espresso cup. ‘Yeah?’ She asks worriedly.

Max wrings his hands together nervously. ‘Wow,’ he whispers, ‘this is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I, um… you know how much I love your brother. More than anything. And, you know, I may be a little… out of control sometimes, and I may not be the most mature.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I guess you could say I’m a bit impulsive. Like when I bought Bradley Cooper, for instance, I mean, great decision, he’s the best goat I’ve ever met, but at the same time, I did buy him on a whim at the farmers’ market one morning.’

Amara squints at him as she steeps her tea. ‘Babe, get back on track.’

Maxwell chuckles, tapping his pocket to check it’s still there. Oh boy, he thinks, if he’s already nervous now, how is it gonna be tonight? ‘Yes,’ he continues, ‘you’re right. So, as I was saying, I’m usually pretty impulsive. But this isn’t impulsive. It’s thought through, it’s been on my mind for the past few months, and, if I’m being honest… for the past two years, really.’ He takes a deep breath and puts the box on the table.

Amara’s eyes are like saucers. ‘Is this…?’ She stammers.

He nods, and pushes the box towards her. She takes it tentatively.

As she opens it, her eyes fill with happy tears. ‘Maxxie… this is so lovely.’

He breathes a bit more easily. ‘Yeah?’ He asks. ‘You think he’ll like it?’

Amara nods furiously. ‘Oh yeah. He definitely will.’ She hands him the box back.

Maxwell can barely keep himself together as he takes another look at the ring he picked for Michael. A simple gold band, classy like the man he loves. He closes the box and pulls another from his other pocket. ‘Now there is something else that I’d like you to see. It’s a little… out there. Don’t hold back on feedback.’

Amara wipes a tiny tear and holds out her hand to take the little box. It’s small, light purple, made of velvet. When she opens it, she gasps. ‘Oh Max, it’s so lovely. Fuck, this is so thoughtful.’ She takes the little pendant in her hand to get a closer look.

Max nods. ‘Phew. I didn’t want to leave her out of this decision, so I had this engraved for her. Is it too much?’

Amara admires the delicate gold pendant, on a intricate little chain. The pendant is a lovely oval, with an engraved peacock, and the words ‘We are family’ etched on it. On the peacock’s head, three teeny-tiny aquamarine stones.

‘Fucking hormones,’ Amara mutters as she wipes away more tears that keep coming. ‘Callie will love it.’

*****

Amara closes the door behind Maxwell and takes Yoda in her arms. ‘Are you excited too, baby?’ She whispers, kissing the little corgi’s head. She plops down on the couch to snuggle with the dog, who’s all too happy to get so much attention.

As she’s halfway done with her episode of Schitt’s Creek, the front door opens. ‘Hey babe,’ Drake says with a smile.

Amara sits up. ‘Hey hun, you’re back so soon!’

Drake throws his jacket on a chair and joins her on the couch. He ruffle’s Yoda’s hair and gestures for Amara to lay down in his arms. ‘I missed you.’

Amara smiles as she nuzzles into Drake’s neck. He might be annoying and overly worried, but he’s her pain in the ass. ‘I missed you too,’ she whispers as she kisses him deeply. ‘How was the restaurant?’

Drake smiles. ‘Pretty good. They barely need me over there. Rashad’s got the situation under control as always, and the kitchen team is awesome. They said they’d handle things whenever I can’t be there.’ He kisses her hair softly. ‘I’m lucky to have them.’

Amara smiles. She’s happy to see him so happy at work. It wasn’t a given when he opened his restaurant a year ago, but everything worked out for the better, and now he can fully enjoy the perks of doing what he loves. Plus, Rashad’s investment money was nothing to scoff at.

‘What about you, babe?’ Drake asks. ‘What have you been up to?’

In her comfortable state, she almost opens her mouth to tell her about her own morning and about Max’s news, but she refrains. After all, he asked her to keep it to herself until Michael has given a response. Not that he would ever say no, but she has to respect Max’s wishes.

She clears her throat. ‘Oh, you know. Yoda and I just hung out. Watched Schitt’s Creek. I did some studying for the Cordonian detective exam. The usual.’

Drake frowns and nods. ‘Hm. Good.’

Shit, she thinks. He knows she’s lying. Quick, she needs to change the subject. ‘Oh, and look, I did some research for the nursery, and I think we should go with this.’ She opens a new window on her laptop and shows Drake some furniture options.

Drake smiles and puts his hand on her already growing bump. ‘Fuck,’ he says, ‘this is so exciting, I can’t wait to meet our little Peanut.’

*****

Drake is slicing some peppers to dip in his homemade hummus while Amara is making some mocktails. Out of solidarity, he’s not drinking during her pregnancy either, so they have gotten quite creative with Amara’s cocktail book. Tonight, they’re having virgin piña coladas.

He hears a car pull up into the driveway, and looks through the window to see Michael’s Honda. ‘Hey babe,’ he says to Amara, ‘your brother’s here with Max and Callie.’

Amara stops the blender and gasps. ‘Yeah?’ She asks excitedly.

Drake raises an eyebrow. They saw them yesterday, why is she so excited all of a sudden? ‘Y-yeah. We might wanna make a little more drinks.’

Amara can’t contain an infectious smile. ‘Mmhm,’ she nods, biting her lip.

‘Alright, weirdo, I’m gonna go open the door,’ Drake chuckles.

Callie is the first one to come in, and she throws herself in Drake’s arms. ‘Uncle Drake!!’ She exclaims. ‘It smells good in here, what did you make?’

Drake hugs her back and laughs. ‘I’m making hummus, and some veal stew.’

‘Yay!’ She yells, throwing her hands in the air.

Michael and Maxwell aren’t far behind, and they both hug Drake as they come in. Callie facetiously mimes zipping up her mouth, and plops down on the floor next to Yoda.

Maxwell clears his throat and says, ‘Hey guys, um, sorry to come by unannounced—‘ he winks to Amara, who looks like she’s about to explode out of excitement— ‘but… we have something to tell you.’

He looks to Michael, who continues, beaming with joy. ‘So, today, Maxwell proposed to me, and…’ he shows off his left hand. ‘Obviously I said yes. We’re getting married!’

Drake’s jaw drops. ‘Guys!’ He exclaims. ‘Congratulations!’

Amara jumps up and down. ‘I’m so happy for you!!!’ She wraps them both in a warm hug. ‘Congrats!’

Drake joins in, as he struggles to keep his shit together. ‘Guys, this is such great news.’ Oh no, he thinks. It’s coming. ‘I, um…’

‘Babe, are you okay?’ Amara asks with a look of concern on her face.

Drake nods, fighting back tears. ‘Yeah, I’m just… shit.’

Callie shoots him daggers. ‘That’s a dollar in the jar, Uncle Drake!’

Drake can’t stop the tears from falling. ‘Sorry kid. Sorry guys. This is just so great, I don’t know what the… what is wrong with me, it’s just…’

‘Awwwww, Drakey,’ Maxwell squeals, ‘you’re too cute when you’re emotional!’

Drake takes a deep breath. ‘Shit—sorry, I know, another dollar for the jar—guys, I don’t know what’s going on with me, it’s just…’ he pauses and sighs. ‘You’ve been through so much together, and Max, seeing you with Callie has been so inspiring.’

Michael wipes off a tear. ‘Drake, come over here. You need a hug.’

They all laugh as Drake complies.

Callie taps her aunt’s leg. ‘Hey Auntie Amara, can I sleep over?’

Amara giggles, ‘Of course sweetie, tonight?’

Callie nods. ‘Daddy and Max are going to a restaurant to celebrate.’

Michael breaks away from the hug and grimaces, ‘Oh yeah, right, that’s partly why we came here… is it ok for Callie to stay here tonight? Max got us a reservation for three, but Callie doesn’t want to go…’

Callie nods. ‘It’s very boring. I’d rather be here and eat some veal with you.’

Drake chuckles. ‘Sure. The more the merrier.’

Maxwell jumps up and down. ‘Thank you guys! We tried my brother, but um… there was an incident.’

Callie sighs in an exasperated way. ‘Auntie Amara,’ she says gravely. ‘Bartie threw up on my shoe.’ She pauses dramatically. ‘On my shoe.’

Amara gasps. ‘Oh wow, well we can’t have that! I promise you no one will throw up on you here.’ She turns to Michael and whispers, ‘Thank God my morning sickness is over.’

Michael laughs. ‘Good thing! Guys, we really appreciate it, and sorry for the late notice.’

Amara shrugs. ‘No problem. I had a hunch this would happen. Come on, Callie, let’s get you situated in the guest room, and then we’ll have a mocktail, ok?’

Callie claps in excitement. ‘Yay, a cocktail!’

Drake looks at his wife disappear into the guest room with their little niece, and turns to the guys. ‘Sorry again for the… whatever the fuck that was. I’m so happy for you guys.’

Michael claps Drake’s back. ‘No worries, Drake. It’s nice to see you so in touch with your emotions. Welcome to being a dad…’

Drake chuckles. ‘Yeah, I can’t even blame the hormones, but here we fuckin’ are. About tonight, do you guys want me to call my buddy at the Portavira Inn? See if he’s got a suite available? Since we’ve got Callie…’

Michael looks at Maxwell, and they both nod enthusiastically. ‘Thank you, Drake,’ Maxwell says, pulling him into another hug. ‘That’s so sweet! We’d love that.’

Drake grabs his phone. ‘Alright, let me give him a call, then. Take a seat, you guys can have a little hummus with us before leaving, right?’

*****

Once Max and Michael have left, Amara, Drake, and Callie sat down for dinner, punctuated with endless chatter from Callie, and little excited yaps from Yoda. Amara looks on to her little niece with love. She could get used to this.

As Amara gets up to clear the table, Drake stops her in her tracks. ‘Nope, Suarez, you’re going on the couch with your niece to rest. I got it.’

Amara almost protests, and then remembers that she’s about to insist on doing dishes, which is essentially insane. She nods and kisses her husband on the lips. ‘Thanks, babe. Come on, Callie, let’s go color!’

‘YAY!’ Callie exclaims, as if she couldn’t ever run out of energy. ‘Auntie Amara, can you paint my toenails while I color?’

Drake peeks his head from the kitchen. ‘Um, I don’t know if nail polish is safe for a pregnant woman, hun.’

Amara takes a deep breath. ‘Drake Walker. If you take nail polish away from me, I got nothing left. Please chill out.’

He holds his hands up in defeat. ‘Alright. Sorry. Overprotective mode deactivated.’

Callie giggles. ‘Yeah, chill out, Uncle Drake. Auntie’s not gonna eat the nail polish. She’s not stupid.’

Callie picks a gold nail polish, which Amara gleefully applies on her niece’s toes. Callie sticks out her tongue as she applies herself to coloring a drawing of a cow in a field. Amara looks up at her little niece, all smiles. ‘So babe,’ she asks. ‘Did you like your necklace?’

Callie nods enthusiastically. ‘Oh yeah. It’s so beautiful.’ She fishes it out of her top and shows it off to her aunt. ‘I love the little peacock. It’s so cute.’

Amara oohs and aahs as if she’d never seen it before. ‘It’s gorgeous, sweetie. Were you surprised, today?’

Callie shakes her head. ‘No. Maxxie asked me last week if it was okay. He said it’s my decision. I said of course, because I love having as many daddies as possible.’

Amara’s heart skips a beat. ‘Yeah?’ She asks, her voice breaking.

Callie nods. ‘Yeah. It’s scary having just one daddy. Papi’s in my heart, but he’s not here everyday to cheer up Daddy or play with me, you know.’

Shit, Amara thinks. It’s gonna take a lot of focusing on the nail painting in order not to cry to this one. ‘I know, sweetie,’ she manages to say. ‘But remember what your necklace says, right? We are family. All of us.’

Callie beams. ‘Yeah. I know. I like that.’ She pauses. ‘Besides, living with Maxxie and Daddy is so much fun that I want it to continue forever. That’s why I said it’s okay with me. Daddy was really sad before he met Maxxie. Now he smiles every day.’

Amara gasps for air. Nope, she can’t cry now. Poker face, Suarez. ‘That’s right,’ she says softly, ‘and Daddy also makes Maxxie really happy.’

Callie smiles. ‘That’s true! Maxxie is always smiling.’ She looks up at her aunt. ‘You used to never smile. Like, never never. And then you came here to Cordonia and you smile all the time. It’s nice.’

‘You’re right,’ Amara chuckles. ‘It is nice.’

Callie points at Amara’s belly. ‘And I think he’s gonna smile a lot too. Because I’m gonna be the best big cousin ever.’ She pauses. ‘Unless he throws up on my shoe.’

Amara laughs wholeheartedly. ‘Yeah? We’ll do our best to avoid it, then.’

Callie giggles. ‘I’m excited to see him, I think he’s gonna be cute.’

‘You got that right,’ Amara chuckles. ‘So, you think it’s gonna be a boy, huh?’

Callie makes a face and snorts. ‘Oh yeah. But you should now that I’m still gonna paint his nails.’

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983 , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love , @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @drxkewalker @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover @princessleac1

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#drake walker x amara suarez #one shot #dramara #drake walker x mc #drake walker #trr fanfic #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara

32 notes · View notes

peterthepark · 5 years ago

Text

crush culture - [four]

party tattoos

pairing: steve harrington x reader (university & modern!AU)

summary: gold dresses, unspoken kisses, and impulsive decision making are always good starts to the new year.

warnings: strong language, uses of social media & alcohol, pure utter fluff fluff fluff, kissing, mentions of tattoos, bad dancing?

a/n: inspired by party tattoos by dodie :) sorry it’s taken me so long to update. this chapter isn’t long, considering i haven’t been active for some time. but the next chapter makes up for it! thanks for ur patience everyone!

Shelves line up Steve’s peripherals as he pushes the shopping cart. The rolling wheels squeak loudly beneath him while you hum and coo at the quirky party decorations that embellished the aisles. Having never hosted a celebration at your own place before, you had decided to entrust in Steve and his experience with parties to help you out.

Robin and Kate wanted a golden theme for the party, both of them being shockingly specific about the type of decorations you should buy, while they prepare the food and drinks. And now here you are, sitting cross-legged in a shopping cart as Steve hand a pack of gold solo cups to you. You pile it into the rest of the decor: paper plates, those little flag thingies you hang up on walls, white and black balloons, and of course, sparklers that would certainly be Instagram-worthy.

“How ‘bout these, Y/N?” Steve snickers, placing an oversized frame of glasses on his face. With a lopsided grin, he does a playful spin for you. You flick the glasses off his nose, laughing at him as he feigns a look of offense. “Hey! Chill!”

“We’re supposed to be shopping, not messing around, you idiot.” You scoff at him, quirking a brow as he puts the glasses back on the shelf. His hand subconsciously moves to rest on top of yours on the bar of the car; the gesture comes to you easily, and you don’t seem to mind the way his thumb runs over your knuckles.

“Okay, so what’s next on the list?”

The kiss hadn’t been brought up.

Not even once.

And you honestly think that maybe you must’ve dreamt it, seeing as Steve seemed to act like it hadn’t happened it.

The morning after said incident, you awoke to an empty bed and the familiar smell of freshly-brewed coffee. Steve was in the kitchen, speaking to Jonathan in a hushed voice. You didn’t care to eavesdrop, knowing that the conversation seemed to be none of your business. But Steve began acting differently towards you after that. He seemed more open, more comfortable, and happier around you. Yet, no one had the guts to bring up the late-night kiss.

“Steve, is this straight? Does this look straight to you?” You whine, glancing down at him with a frustration expression. The chair wobbles as you lean further to tape the hanging decorations to the wall, and Steve is quick to keep the chair still, not wanting you to fall and hurt yourself. “Does it look okay?”

“Y/N, it looks fine, but you’ve gotta be careful. You’re literally gonna fall.” He says in exasperation, gripping your hand to help you down.

“I just want this to look good. I’ve got King Steve here himself, I’m sure he knows what a good party looks like.” You tease, biting your lip.

Steve cringes at the thought of you knowing about his whole King Steve phase, and he ruffles his hair sheepishly at the smirk on your face. “Okay, who told you about that? Was it Jonathan? Like I know I was a complete dick back then, but man-“

“No, silly. Robin told me. I didn’t know you were such a playboy.” You walk past him, chuckling as he follows after you into the living room. “So, are you gonna tell me all about your whole high school experience or what?” You purr, arranging the fairy lights for the DIY photo booth that you made together.

Steve huffs, hesitant to even tell you about the person he was in high school. “I was such a dumbass back then. You don’t even want to know, Y/N.” He groans, kicking his feet atop of the coffee table.

“You’re also a dumbass now. We were all shitty people in high school, trust me.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.” He probes, leaning forward on his elbows.

“I fucked my chemistry teacher.” You reply nonchalantly, earning a sputtering cough and a loud exclamation of really?! from Steve. “I’m kidding! It’s a joke! I did get into a lot of rumor and drama shit, so I guess my high school life wasn’t as perfect as I try to make it out to be.”

Steve lets out a breath of relief. It’s not that there was anything wrong with you possibly screwing your chemistry teacher, it’s just... he honestly wouldn’t expect it from a sweetheart like you. Then again, sweethearts sometimes have hidden agendas.

He starts to look at the way your jeans hug your thighs and then his eyes skim over the expanse of your hips...

Fuck, dude. Not cool.

“Steve? Did you hear what I just said?”

“Huh?” You laugh at him, rolling your eyes at his dumbfounded stare. He shifts awkwardly on the sofa, and he’s praying that you didn’t see the way he was totally ogling you. Which you did.

He’d be in a treat for later then, because the dress you were planning on wearing was definitely far from anything he’s seen on you wear.

“I said, you should go rest before the party. It doesn’t start till like nine, and it’s only five right now. Maybe you’d want to take a nap or - or get ready or something - I don’t know.” You ramble shyly, setting out a couple bottles of champagne and wine. You look over to him, nearly knocking over the bottles when he licks his lips. Instinctively, he catches the bottle before it rolls onto the ground, blushing alongside you as your hands come in contact with each other.

“You tryin’ to get rid of me already, Y/N?” He smiles, pulling his hand away.

“I’m tryin’ to give you a break before we get blind drunk at this party. Take it or leave it, Harrington.” You nudge his shoulder, sharing a lingering gaze with him before you actually make him go home. “O-okay, for real though, go.”

“Alright! Alright!” He raises his hands up, hesitantly making his way towards the door. “Do I have to?” He turns, before you seriously shoo him away. “Okay, bye. I’ll see you later... Y/N.”

He winks teasingly, then he’s out of your apartment.

You sigh dreamily.

You love it when he says your name.

“It’s just tequila. Y/N, please, c’mon, do it with me!” Robin cackles, shaking your shoulders. The walls of your apartment rumbled as the speakers played music, blasting out throwbacks and current songs alike. Robin had dragged you to the island in the kitchen, expertly lining up half-filled shotglasses on the counter. She bounces on her toes, clasping her hands together as she begs you to take shots with her. “Please! Just this once!”

“Dude, the last time I drank tequila, I lost all control. Do you not remember how wild we got? I’m not putting myself through that again. I swear - Ro, there’s no way-“

Interrupted, Robin bursts into a gasp, spotting a familiar face from the front door. “Steve! Steve!”

She runs out to pull the chestnut-haired boy into the kitchen, holding him by the shoulders as she drags him towards you. His jaw drops slightly when he sees the gold dress hugging your body, and you don’t hesitate to greet him with a grin.

“If Steve takes a tequila shot, will you do it?”

Steve’s face breaks into a smile at Robin’s question, and he gestures at the shotglasses with raised brows. “I can’t say no to that offer. Y/N?”

You take a moment to stare at Steve, recognizing the mischievous glint in his eyes that ultimately causes you to give in.

“Ugh, okay. Yeah. Fine. Tequila.” You wave your hands about, pacing in your heels before you courageously down a shot with Steve. You both groan at the taste, screwing your eyes shut as it burns at your throat and tongue. “Bleh! Ugh, I already feel drunk.”

“Just two more shots.” Steve insists, placing his hand on your arm. He dips his head down to look at you.

“You know what? Who’s to say we were done anyways?” You smirk at him, before you hold out a shot glass for him to drink out of. You unknowingly part your lips as he grips onto your wrist to down the drink, gently pulling your arm away when he’s finished. He wipes his mouth, hissing at the spicy kick.

Parties were boring. Unless you’re blind drunk.

And in this case, parties were fun.

Because well, you’re blind drunk.

The flash of the camera goes off as Kate pulls you into her chest, squishing your cheeks together while Robin comes up behind to sandwich you between them. Classmates and mutual friends alike pile into your shared apartment, easily making conversation or dancing to the music in the living room. The sway of your hips is enough to show the liquid courage that was running through your body as you made your way over to Steve, holding onto his hand to pull him into the makeshift photo booth.

“What are you doing?” He drawls out, raising his eyebrows at you as you stand next to him in front of the backdrop. “Y/N, I look like a mess-“

“You’re hot, Steve. You need to chill out.” You slur, slinging your arm around him as Kate starts taking pictures.

And in the meantime, Steve knows how idiotic he looks in those pictures - mouth open, eyes wide and lips pulling into a smirk as he realizes that you just called him hot. He tries to ignore the way that your face feels against his face as you embrace him tightly and hold up a peace sign.

“Y/N?” Steve asks over the music, nearly shouting. “You look beautiful!”

Your gold dress glimmers under the disco ball that hangs from the ceiling fan, and you forget everything else around you as Steve’s eyes slowly drift down the length of your legs and heels.

“Thanks, Steve.” You reply, blinking up at him hazily. He hesitates for a moment, stepping closer towards you, before Robin quickly whisks you away towards another area of the apartment.

You glance behind you, meeting Steve’s eyes in the growing crowd of people. He raises a glass of beer at you, before he completely disappears in the sea of the party.

“No way. Absolutely no.” Kate groans, clasping her hand over her mouth as her gaze follows yours. “You brought a tattoo artist to the party?”

“More like I paid her to come.” Robin whispers, scratching guiltily at her head. “What? She’s hot! I just - I don’t know she seemed really nice and really sweet and yeah, cute. C’mon, K.” You shake your head at Robin with a smile, taking her hand in yours before giving it a squeeze. “You said you’ve always wanted a tattoo, Y/N?”

“I mean... yes, but... I’m also very drunk right now.” You laugh, rubbing your arms. Robin’s black lipstick tugs up at the corners, and she raises her brows at you with suggestion. “What would I even get?”

The buzzing needle pricks against your skin painfully. You hiss as Gemma puts pressure on your wrist, black ink forming words as she goes on. You shut your eyes, already regretting your decision as you tune out her comforting coos. Kate records you on Snapchat, while Robin laughs drunkenly in the background and praises Gemma for her work.

When she’s finished, you examine the plastic wrap around your wrist, fingertips hovering over the black words as you gasp in awe at it. Kate and Robin gush over it, and you start to become aware of the permanent decision you had just made.

Always indecisive.

Always impulsive.

But never unsure about your feelings for people.

Especially Steve.

After taking a few more drinks to numb the dull pain on your arm, you moved towards the balcony. You step out onto the glass-fenced terrace, shutting the sliding door behind you. Steve turns to glance at you, smile turning into an amazed laugh as you show him the state of your newly-tatted wrist.

“Oh, my god. You did not.” He huffs with unbelief, holding onto your hand as he looks it over. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Only insane when I’m drunk.” You chuckle, shifting from one foot to the other before you put your arms on top of the fence. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“No. No, definitely not.” He answers quickly, waving you off.

“Ooo, I don’t know, Steve. Sounds a little bit like a lie to me.” You push his elbow with yours, burying your nose against your shoulder as you look up at him coyly.

“Okay, maybe I do. But I’m not proud of it. It’s a terrible tattoo, I got it when I was in high school and it’s - it’s stupid.”

“Oh, now you’ve got to show me!” You gasp, pulling on the sleeve of his top as he groans at you. You beg him, promising not to make fun of him in any way shape or form - no matter how stupid the tattoo could’ve been.

So, he preps you a little bit. You mainly think he’s stalling but he claims that he’s just preparing you for the worst. He’s trying to explain himself, yet honestly, you can only hone in on the way he gives you a blushing smile, all while using hand gestures to make light of his point. Fed up, you interrupt him, telling him you don’t quite need an explanation to whatever his damn tattoo even is.

He sighs at you, slumping over jokingly before he decides to untuck his top and tug down the waitband of his jeans to reveal the ink on his hipbone. The tattoo isn’t as bad as you had thought it would be. Steve was simply just overreacting, and maybe self-conscious at the fact that you’d be seeing such a tattoo on him.

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be, Steve.” You smirk, leaning over to look at the tattoo on his hipbone.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.”

“I’m serious! It’s pretty cute.”

The black-inked heart with an arrow through it sits prettily on his fair, flushed skin. It was far from embarrassing, and it was far from a horrible design. You weren’t lying when you said it was cute. It seemed actually... endearing, to have a gentleman like Steve have such a soft-meaningful tattoo in a place where no one could really see it.

“Does it mean anything?” You tilt your head at him, chewing on your lip as he thinks over your question.

“I dunno. Guess I’ve... I don’t know, I guess I’ve always been a - a hopeless romantic? Do those even exist?” He asks aloud, running his clammy palms over his denim-clad thighs. He shrugs, “I’ve always - I’ve always been a little too crazy for love, so whatever, so... it’s a - a fitting tattoo for me, I suppose.” He stares off into the city line, eyes twinkling when he shifts his attention to you. “And what about yours? Any meaning?”

“It’s... it’s open to a lot of things.” You nod.

The words SEE YOU SOON are red with soreness on your skin, healing under the plastic wrap as you carefully let Steve trace over it with his thumb. You can feel his breath against your collarbone as he mindlessly bumps his arm against yours.

“See you soon?”

“I like to think that... people who are - who are meant to be in your life - but leave for whatever reason - are always meant to find a way back to you. It’s just... a lot of people come and go. Especially now. It’d be nice to find a person who’ll stay one day.”

“Deep.” He mumbles, earning a laugh from you. You don’t fail to realize that his hand has slipped into yours, and he holds it over the railing as the chilly Chicago air bites at your skin. “I hope that you’ll find someone who’s willing to stay, Y/N.”

You feel his eyes on you, and without hesitation, you turn your face to look at him. His cheeks are reddened, his cheekbones are accentuated under the moonlight and bright stars, but your more drawn to the way his lips pout together.

“And I hope you find someone who’s just as crazy about love as you are, Steve.” You smile.

He’s about to say something, to ask you a question that he had been longing to ask you for so, so long. But the cheers and drunken chants from the inside call you both back to the living room. The flatscreen TV broadcasts the Ball Drop from NYC, showing the masses of people that had gathered to celebrate the new year. Guests clink their glasses with one another as the countdown hits at the twenty-second mark, and you feel the heightened adrenaline of having a new year approach. Kate and Robin manage to find you, snapping last minute 2019 polaroids in the span of 10 seconds.

“Robin, kiss me!” Kate cackles jokingly, pulling Robin into a rib-crushing hug as they jump around in excitement. You laugh at them, taking your phone to record the moment around you as people begin to count the last few seconds.

Five...

You tuck your phone back into your bag, crossing it over your body as you wrap your arms around your front.

Four...

Steve mimics your posture, but he can’t help but look over at you, waiting for you to pick up on what he was very subtly trying to suggest.

Three...

“Y/N?”

Fuck it.

“Yeah?”

“About that kiss... on - on the night we went ice skating...” He scratches his neck, rambling. “I really - really enjoyed it. And you. Spending time with you.”

“Yeah, me too. I... I had lots of fun and I’m glad that you brought it up because well, I wasn’t sure if I had messed up or something since you weren’t talking about it.”

“Oh! Oh, trust me, you - you did everything perfect.”

Two...

“I did?”

“Yeah, of course. But... but I wanted to ask if... I don’t know if ice-skating counts as a - as a first date but...” He swallows nervously. “Would you like to go on a date with me? Like a real one?”

One...

You step forwards on your heels, cupping Steve’s cheeks in your hands as you kiss him intensely. Your fingers brush over his jaw, and his hands come to rest on the small of your back as he brings you further against him. Party poppers and confetti erupt through the apartment as the clock hits midnight, and you force yourself to pull away from Steve’s lips.

“I’m available next weekend.” You utter, catching your breath.

“Huh?” Steve replies with shaky hands.

You giggle at that, touching his arm. “I meant that I’m available next weekend for our date. If you want to go around that time.” You say to him with blushing cheeks, but never break eye contact.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, me too. I’ll pick you up again. Or we can meet there, whatever you’d prefer.” He smacks his lips together, unintentionally tasting your fruity lipgloss.

“Just text me. And we can plan from there.” You nod, pulling your hand away from him. Before he can say anything else that would embarrass him, Steve excused himself to go make conversation with Jonathan, who seems to have turned up with a few old friends from his hometown.

But at the same time, he couldn’t really focus when all he can see is you across the room, talking animatedly with your gold dress and your high heels and your captivating smile.

And those eyes.

The way you look at him.

The way you give him your undivided attention.

It drives him a bit crazy.

Steve swore that you were just another crush - just another girl who he’d try to get by and probably break up with in the following week after officiating things. But no. You had completely caused him to take a full 360, like literally: when you had hit him with your car, when you offered to bring him coffee, when you said yes to ice skating. He was already entranced by you.

It was supposed to be a crush.

Only a crush.

Nothing more.

But here he was - already falling in love, and he hasn’t even taken out on a proper date.

New year, new beginnings, right?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff #x reader #crush culture series

252 notes · View notes

signorformica · 5 years ago

Photo

Ladies and gentlemen! Bibliothèque Infernale is proud to present —again!—under the big top tonight!:

*THE BIBULOUS BABY*

Another bizarre, freakish short story by the Master of the Grotesque — TOD ROBBINS!

***

“THE STRANGEST event in my life happened last summer," said my traveling companion. "I have only ventured to tell this story to my wife and brother. It is so unique and apparently so beyond human belief that if I published it broadcast I would be looked upon by the world as an impostor of the first water."

"And did your wife and brother believe you?" I asked.

"Well, not exactly. Yes and no. They believed that I thought I was telling the truth. The one imagined that the tale sprang from the effects of strong drink; the other blamed the strength of the summer sun. But I assure you it was neither. I had had a few glasses of absinth, certainly; but I have been accustomed to this drink since childhood. The sun, indeed, was very hot; but it was as nothing compared to the heat I have experienced in the tropics."

"The story, doctor?", I ventured.

"Ah," said he, "you will laugh; but nevertheless I will give it to you. Mirth is the reward one gets from the world when one gives something new to it. People laugh entirely too much, and smile only with their lips. Look into a man's eyes — they alone are the true mirrors of emotion.

"On the fifteenth of last August I was living at a seaside resort not far from the city. It was the warmest day of the summer, and the people had taken to the water. Sitting on the veranda of the hotel with a glass of absinth on the arm of my chair, I could see the blue expanse of ocean stretching out from the beach like a velvet rug lying on a floor of whitest marble.

“Not a breath of air ruffled that placid surface; not a wrinkle of thought rested on the calm forehead of the sea. And above it the sun hung stationary in the heavens, resembling an open porthole of a burning ship seen through the blue haze of evening.

"On the beach, men and women were running about, caricaturing by their grotesque, awkward movements the play of children, as grown people do when they attempt to cheat could be seen bobbing up and down like pieces of cork, and it seemed strange that these little globes should be moving about, guided by the brains that they contained; and stranger still that, if one should suddenly sink out of sight for several moments, a great excitement would turn these shouts of laughter into screams, these movements of animal joy into gesticulations of horror.

"Sitting all alone on that hotel veranda, I continued to sip my absinth and to meditate on the scene before me. Suddenly I saw a very pretty young girl approaching, pushing a baby carriage before her. The child was evidently sleeping and was concealed under a canopy of mosquito netting; the girl looked longingly out to sea, while two lines of irritation furrowed her forehead.

"Acting on a sudden impulse, I spoke to her: 'You'll pardon me, but couldn't I be of some assistance? I see that you like bathing, and it's quite a wonderful day for it. I could take care of the baby while you have a plunge.'

"She hesitated and again looked out to sea. 'I'm very much obliged,' she began, 'but mother told me to take care of — at this she hesitated, and I thought I saw her face darken — 'of my little brother,' she finished.

"'But I could take care of him for a time. He won't be any trouble. He's fast asleep.'

"'Yes, he is asleep,' she said, lifting the mosquito netting and looking down at the little red face lying on the lace pillow. 'Thank you so much; I think I will go in bathing.' And, wheeling the baby carriage up beside me, she turned and hurried off toward the bath houses on the shore.

"Again my eyes returned to the bathers, and my hand lifted the glass of absinth to my lips. How black and tiny some of the heads looked far out on the water! Here, in this bathtub of the city, life was a precious thing; yet there was an abundance of it, a superfluity of it. I had been in thinly populated countries where it was not thought of so highly.

"'I beg your pardon, sir,' said a voice beside me which sounded like a key turning in a rusty lock, 'but I'm very thirsty and absinth is my favorite drink.'

"I turned about in surprise, and was thunderstruck to see that I was apparently still alone. No one stood back of my chair; no one was behind the pillar on my right, and no one crouched behind the baby carriage, as I had first suspected. But as I stared about me the voice again spoke in its strange, quavering tones.

"'Lift up the mosquito net over the carriage,' it said.'It's damnably hot in here!'

"Almost mechanically I did as I was told, and in a moment more was looking down into the little, red, wrinkled face of a baby. As I gazed at the shapeless nose, at the bald head and loose-lipped mouth, the eyes opened and looked up at me. What I felt then you can never imagine, my friend; I cannot describe it to you. I can only say that it was horrible — horrible past belief. I had expected the frightened, innocent stare of awakened childhood; in place of it I saw the vicious, knowing leer of wicked old age. With a cry of horror I reeled back and put my hands before my eyes.

" 'Well,' said the voice again, and now I knew that it, too, was old — as old as an echo in a haunted house; 'well, my young friend, do I get a taste of your absinth or not?’

"'What are you?' I cried as soon as I could speak.

"'Young man,' said the baby, squinting evilly at me over his blanket, 'I'm about the dryest child in the world. Do you know what I've been getting to drink lately? I've been getting milk — milk from a dirty, blue-nosed bottle! Everybody takes advantage of me be- cause I'm too old to kick up a disturbance. Why, my own grandchild — the one who was wheeling me just now — takes advantage of me. Family pride is all very well, but what is getting me is I've only got four more weeks to live, and I might as well be a live one till the very end.'

"'Just a moment,' said I, taking a long drink of absinth to steady my nerves. 'Now you can tell me every- thing. You may unburden yourself to me as though I were your father.'

"'Well,' he snarled. ’If I tell you the story, will you empty the milk out of my bottle and fill it up with absinth?'

"'Yes, readily,' I answered.

"'So I'm selling my family pride for a bottle of absinth,' said he. 'Well, no matter, here it goes. My grand- father owned a large plantation before the war. Like many another Southern gentleman of that time, he preferred the joys of the body to the joys of the spirit. Wine in plenty, women in plenty, tobacco in plenty — that was his idea of life. But there was one thing that worried my grandfather.'

""What was that?' I asked.

"'Old age,' said the baby solemnly. 'It was his one fear. And when it finally came — when gout laid hold of his feet and time pulled out his hair — he was a pitiful object to behold. Lying on his back, he cursed life and said that it started from the wrong end; that if men were born old and grew younger year by year, then they'd have something to live for, instead of cursing every day that came. And on the night when he died he sold his soul to the devil, or so my old negro nur.se used to say. On the following morning I was born.'

"'And how long ago was that, my little friend?' I asked.

"'Eighty-five years ago last December’, said the baby. 'Of course I can't remember as far back as that. My first recollection is of standing before the mirror while my mother combed out my long gray beard. Yes, I had a beard then; and they say it was snow white when I was born. But when I remember it first it was gray —a beautiful silver gray. That was a long time ago, and I wish I had one now.

"'And yet, even then I wasn't happy. I'd try to get the old men in the village interested in blindman's buff and tag; but they wouldn't play with me and I felt lonely. People began to talk when they saw me rolling my hoop in the street or playing marbles with the boys; so mother had to tell them that I was an uncle of hers in his second childhood, fearing that they might guess the truth. Sometimes the old men would beckon me into the tavern, buy me some absinth, and, when I had drunk it, send me home tottering on my feet.

"'And so time passed. Gradually I grew taller and stronger; the gray began to fade out of my beard in patches, and mother was now thought by strangers to be my sister. I no longer played marbles with the boys or rolled my hoop along tire pavement. No, now the girls whom I met on the street would make my heart beat all out of tune. But they never looked at me; or, if they did, they would say, "He is old enough to be our father," and pass by. But there was one who said, 'What young eyes he has!' I married that girl and settled down with the optimistic belief that nothing could shatter my happiness.

"'But the years went by, and each one that passed made me younger and my dear wife older. Finally we met on the tide of life, each drifting toward a separate goal. And we could not hold each other. We passed by swiftly, unable even to clasp hands. I must have suffered then, yet my hair lost all its gray; I was growing to be a comparatively young man. And I had children, and they soon grew older than I ; and they had children, and they grew older than I — till now all that is left me is a taste for absinth, the taste that I acquired when the old men used to send me home from the tavern in the days of my drunken, gray-haired childhood. How I used to cry when they wouldn't play marbles with me!

"'Ah, well, ah, well, now I'm eighty- five and a baby with the tastes of an old man. Yet they won't give me my absinth, and expect me to say nothing about myself because of family pride. It seems I am a monster — something to be hidden away in a perambulator. Ah, but the ladies give me privileges sometimes which they'd scarcely give if they knew my age! I have four more weeks of life. How do I know ? Why, the doctor of the hotel examined me this morning and said that I am just four weeks old. But give me your absinth, sir. Don't take advantage of me because I am old and helpless.'"

"And did you give him your absinth?" I asked.

"Yes," said my friend. "I filled his milk bottle with it. He was so weak that I had actually to put the nipple in his mouth. Then I went up to my room, leaving him sucking peacefully. Four weeks later I read his death no tice in the paper. Well, what do you think of that, sir?"

"I think it is quite remarkable," I answered.

*Tod Robbins: The Bibulous Baby. First published in The Thrill Book. July 1, 1919 • via Bibliothèque Infernale on FB

8 notes · View notes