#but then again they did see me having a quaint little sing along to mirror aka asaka’s song aka i was just | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sazc94 · 4 years ago

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Speak Now

Hello, I am back, with an unofficial entry into the lovely @msmarvelwrites 2k Challenge. This is heavily inspired by her challenge but, but I am also aware I am clogging up her mentions ;)

Speak now Pairs:

Steve x Reader, with brief mentions of Bucky x Reader and Historical Wanda x Reader cause its Pride Month :)

Words, around 6k.

Themes, suggestions of smut so 18+, lots of swearing, angst and heartbreak and some fluff.

Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said speak now

You looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. Today was the day you had been dreading for the last 8 months. Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter’s Wedding. Ignoring the pit in your stomach you smoothed your lilac chiffon dress down once more, before checking your make-up and French-braid updo one last time. You felt sick oh how could he be marrying her? Had you two genuinely meant that little to each other meaning it was that easy for him to marry her?

You felt the tears threatening to spring from your eyes and pinched your nose. The limo was almost here, and you didn’t have enough time to re-do your make up if you started crying now. Plus, you knew deep down if you started crying, you’d never make it to the wedding. As one of Steve's closest friends you knew you had to suck it up and be there at his big day.

Originally, he had tried to convince you to take up Sharon’s half-assed offer to be in her bridal party. You would much rather stick needles in your eyes. So, you apologised to Steve and Sharon (not that she cared or even listened) advising how you didn’t have the time free to commit to such a big thing. Steve had originally been upset looking crestfallen, his baby blue eyes pleading with you. You gave him a small smile before assuring him you would still be there for the wedding.

“Don’t worry about it Steve. I’ll be there on the big day. Would never dream of missing it, especially the opportunity to see Sam and Bucky in suits” you said ruefully. Steve didn’t skip over the fact you had called him Steve. You had always called him Stevie. Well. Up until he had announced his engagement to Sharon.

“Hey Dollface”, Bucky said kissing you on the cheek before opening the door to the car. “Hey Buck, Hey Sam, you two look delicious,” you said shooting them a playful wink. Sam mumbled a small thanks avoiding eye contact with you. Bucky however, took this an opportunity to move closer to you. His hand resting on your thigh. The four of you had been friends since college. That’s why you were riding in the limo with them to the church earlier than most.

The four of you had formed a strong friendship back then. Along with Wanda and Pietro Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. Bucky and Steve had been childhood friends and you had met Sam at Freshman orientation where he had almost knocked you unconscious during his haste to catch a football.

You and Bucky had a complex history. He had liked you from the moment he had met you, however, you weren’t interested in him. To be fair, you hadn’t been romantically interested in any of the boys, instead, your interest had been caught by one of the red-haired females you were sharing off-campus accommodation with. It didn’t stop Bucky from trying to get you into his bed all through your freshman year though. He had eventually given up in the summer and had never brought it up again after realising his best pal Steve had a thing for you too.

“So, what do you say Y/N, after the wedding, you come back to my hotel and let me make you feel real fucking good again, just like I did all those months back”, Bucky whispered. His hot breath tickling your neck. You instantly felt yourself flush at the memory. Straightening up you removed Bucky’s hand. “Come on James, I told you. It was a one-time thing, never gonna happen again. The only hotel room I will be ending up in is mine”, you said. Determination filling your features.

From across the limo Sam snickered whilst Bucky sulked. “Sure Y/N we all know who’s hotel room you’re gonna end up in and it isn’t anyone in this limo’s” Sam smirked. You instantly felt yourself heat up with embarrassment at Sam’s call out. He was right though. Anytime things got rough for either of you, you and your college girlfriend Wanda always found a way into each other’s beds. You picked at bottom of your knee-length dress before sighing. “Actually, I’m fairly certain she and Vision are in a good place at the moment, and she is bringing him as her date. You examined your fresh manicure avoiding their eye’s.

After a quiet 15-minute ride the three of you arrived at the church. Bucky had been whispering sweet nothings in your ear the entire ride. Sam had ignored you up until you had gotten out the limo. Grabbing you by the elbow he pulled you to one side telling Bucky to go on in.

“Y’know Y/N I always thought it would be you up there with him today,” Sam said sympathy filling his eyes. “I know this day is hard for you. So just know after the wedding if you want to get out of here, I have your back and will cover for you”, Sam continued. His brown eyes boring into you. You felt that familiar lump form in your throat and instead of addressing it you threw your arms around Sam and buried your face in his chest.

“Thank you” you mumbled. You and Sam were great friends, but Sam very rarely showed you physical affection. However, at that moment he knew that the hug was grounding you, so he rested his chin on the top of your head squeezing you tight. Running his hands up and down your back in a reassuring measure.

You stayed like that for about 2 minutes, a few loose tears escaping, that was when you heard Steve and Bucky’s laughter coming down the hallway towards the churches front garden, where you were stood in an embrace with Sam. You stiffened before withdrawing from Sam’s embrace. You shot him a small sad smile, before shaking your head and running off before Steve had a chance to talk to you.

You knew he would tell you how much it meant to him that you were there. How he was so happy that despite all your history, how you had once again shown up for him. You just couldn’t face him. You had gone out of your way to avoid being alone with him for the past eight months. “Hey, Where’s Y/N rushing off too”? You heard Steve ask as you rushed off the nearby meadow.

Bucky and Sam were obviously a part of Steve's wedding party. Because of this, they were needed at the small church where the wedding was taking place an hour before guests were due to arrive. Steve had insisted on you riding to the church with Sam and Steve in the limo he was paying for. He refused to hear of you spending money on a cab to attend the big day. Especially not when there was plenty of room and you were on the way to the church. Eventually, you had agreed after Steve had worn you down. The goofy grin he had given you had simultaneously made your heart do a somersault and rip further in half.

It was warm summers day in Massachusetts and the little church really was the perfect venue. Well to you, and it definitely was for Steve but you knew that social standing meant more to Sharon, she had wanted the big fancy private venue which seated 500 plus guests in NYC as opposed to the quaint little church with a max capacity of 50.

The long grass tickled your ankles as you entered the meadow, your eyes were instantly drawn to the big oak tree with a rickety wooden swing hanging down. You had at least 40 minutes before you would need to head in. The wedding was in an hour, but you weren’t looking forward to the awkward encounter with Wanda that was waiting for you. The sun was beginning to blaze, and it was even midday. Deciding you had enough time; you undid your strappy beige sandals and ran towards the swing.

You sat on the rough wood, slightly warm from the heatwave MA was experiencing, the rope had frayed and aged but you didn’t care, the sun was fighting its way through the canopy of thick green leaves. You let out a deep breath before kicking your feet along the dried dirt. You leant your head back and closed your eyes, shutting the world out deciding to live in these tranquil moments.

Flashbacks.

You and Steve had been dancing around the sexual tension between the pair of you for the last 3 years. Neither one of you ever daring to make a move. Mostly because you and Wanda were either constantly fighting or fucking. Sometimes both. Okay, mostly doing both. Steve wasn’t much better, every few months he had a new girlfriend and then there were countless one night stands in between. However, it was your final year of college you and Wanda had decided to call it quits for a good 5 months ago.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk, originally Sam and Nat were coming over to your apartment for some drinks to check out your new place. But then Sam had asked to bring this girl he was dating Jane, and Steve had heard from Nat about the get-together, pleading with you the be included.

So that was how you had ended up drunk as a skunk belting out cheesy pop hits on your old PlayStation sing star. Natasha had left long ago, claiming she had a paper to write, Sam and Jane were snuggled closely on the small sofa.

“Come on Y/N sing You’re the one I want with me,” Steve said trying to pull you up from the floor. You whined and wriggled your wrist free-falling back on the cold laminate floor. The sudden movement made Steve lose balance as his feet had been on your toes.

“Stevie, now look what you did” you giggled as the blond hottie fell on the floor opposite you. “This never would have happened if you’d just agreed to sing with me Puppy” Steve replied pouting. Puppy. He called you that claiming you had the biggest puppy dog eyes and energy of a 6-month Puppy all the time.

“I told you, I don’t sing duets anymore jerkwad,” you said shuffling away from the blonde. Steve decided that he didn’t like this much and pouted. You let out a small involuntary giggle. This only seemed to upset Steve more, deepening his pout and raising his eyebrows, he let out an exasperated sigh.

The mixture of Steve’s adorable pout, the tension between you and the alcohol was too much and with that, you broke out into a fit of giggles rolling about on the floor. Your T-shirt etched up as you moved to try to quieten your giggles, showing flashes of your skin to Steve. Your giggles were intoxicating, mixed with the wafts of your favourite body spray, the way you screwed your eyes up when you laughed, and with the way your shirt was etching higher and higher, Something in Steve snapped.

In one swift movement he caught your wrists as you rolled over so you were on your back, pinning them above your head with one hand, his other holding your left leg in a bent position, Steve was on top of you using your leg to prop himself up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your eyes caught Steve’s baby blue eyes. You swallowed, unable to break the eye contact with Steve.

“Stevie”, you whispered uncertainly. With that, the daze Steve was in broke and he crushed his lips to yours. He tasted like beer mixed with the fruity makeshift cocktails you’d made when the beer ran out, his lips were slightly chapped.

His kiss started of hungry and frantic, you returned the kiss, drinking in all the sensations. The pressure on your wrists loosening as the kiss melted into a softer, gentler, more loving kiss. After a few moments, the kiss stopped and Steve drew back, You didn’t move, just as stunned as him.

You could see the blush slowly creeping over Steve's face, so you leant in, closing the small distance as Steve's face still awkwardly hovered inches above yours.

“I think we should kick Sam and Jane out” you whispered shooting him a sly smirk. Steve's blush deepened. He nodded his head and slowly drew back. Once standing he offered his hand to yours to help you up.

After Sam and Jane left you and Steve spent the entire night fucking each other senseless. It was the start of your 4-year relationship. You and Steve were practically inseparable for the rest of your time at college. You already were before that night, but after the kiss and the events that followed you two became insatiable for one another.

You were so caught up in your flashback that you didn’t hear Bucky calling your name. “Earth to Y/N,” he said waving his hand frantically in front of your face. You were so taken by surprise you couldn’t help but let out a small shriek, to which both you and Bucky burst out laughing. “Jesus H Christ, Bucky! You almost gave me a heart attack”. You said shooting him a toothy grin.

“Sorry Y/N, Steve sent me out here to look for you, he just missed you earlier, said he wants to speak to you and get a photo of the four of us,” Bucky said. You felt your heart squeeze, you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t talk to him before the ceremony, you just didn’t trust yourself. You didn’t realise it but you had started crying. Bucky caught it before you did. Pulling you up from the swing he enveloped you into a huge hug.

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Bucky’s got you. Don’t worry I’ll make up some lame excuse about you fixing your hair or makeup or something, don’t worry doll. Sam and I are gonna get you through this day and once the weddings done, we are going to get super drunk. It may be an open bar, but Sharon’s Daddy is paying for it”, Bucky said rubbing soothing circles on your back. Unable to speak or else the damn would completely burst you simply just nodded into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky stayed hugging you for about 5 minutes before heading back off into the church, you both knew that if Bucky stayed around too much longer, Sam or more likely, Steve would come looking for you both. As you watched Bucky jog off your phone buzzed.

Hey Babe, can’t wait to see you. Visions looking forward to it too, according to his sat Nav we should be arriving in 10 minutes. See you soon! Xx P.S I hope you’re wearing something sexy for me 😉– Wanda x

Of course it was Wanda, she didn’t need to sign of her text with her name. You still had each other’s telephone numbers. You dropped yourself onto the floor, not caring about the dried dirt around the tree. You knew this was going to mark your dress but with Wanda acting up now, you were well past the point of giving a flying fuck.

You leant your head back on the tree before uttering out a string of expletives. Attending your ex-boyfriend’s wedding was hard enough without your college girlfriend attending too. Wanda was happy (mostly) with Henry aka Vision (god what a pompous nickname). However, that never seemed to stop Wanda and you falling back into each other’s beds. Or Her sending texts like this whenever a group of you got together.

Flashback

“Steve, look at me, please. Say something. This isn’t something I’m choosing to do lightly”, you pleaded for Steve to look at you. Your Grandma in England was sick, she had been given a year, two max to live. Your mum hadn’t been around much for you growing up and your Grandma had practically raised you with her Son (your dad), you had chosen to go back to England to be closer to her during her final year.

“Stevie, please baby. This has nothing to do with you, or me, or us. It’s just the woman practically raised me and I want to be there for her. It will be a year, two max. You can always come visit, I’ll be over to visit, We can make this work. Just please say you want it to work”, you were practically begging by this point. Tears were falling down your cheeks and the man who held your heart in his hands and had the power to stop all the pain stood there at the opposite end of your shared apartment. With his back to you.

“What do you want me to say Y/N?!” Steve's voice came out in an accusing whisper. He still made no motions to turn to face you. “Of course you should be there for her during her final moments. But a year, maybe two? We have a life here, an apartment. I have friends here, Sharon, Sam, Bucky, and Thor. Hell, Nick even said I might even be up for a promotion in a month or two.”

You didn’t miss the fact that Sharon who had been eyeing up Steve since joining Fury’s Law firm 8 months ago was suddenly included in that list of friends. Steve was oblivious. But he wasn’t that oblivious. He knew mentioning her would hurt you. And he was right it did.

“You know what Stevie, I get that. That’s why I’m not asking you to come with me for the whole time, I’m just asking you to come over for two weeks whilst I get settled and then to do the long-distance thing for a while. But if your Friends and possible promotion are that important to you, Then forget it”. You grabbed your phone, the overnight bag you had packed and stormed out of the apartment.

You waited in the rain for 15 minutes, wishing for Steve to chase after you. He never did. So, you called Wanda and asked if she would mind lending you her sofa for the night. You had booked two tickets for a 6 am flight, believing that your precious Stevie would of course come with you to visit your family during this difficult time.

Spoiler alert, Steve didn’t show at the airport the next morning, he also spent the next 3 days avoiding your calls.

Eventually, Steve did apologise. But by then the cracks had formed and the damage had been done, after 5 months you called it quits. 4 Months Later Steve was dating Sharon Carter. You arranged with Wanda and Sam to mail back your key and have your belongings collected. Sam had offered to store them at his apartment in his spare room.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulled you from your flashback. “Natasha! No, I am here, I’ll meet you out the front of the church in a few moments.” You said before hanging up the phone. Showtime folks.

You stood, steadying yourself against the big oak tree before slipping your sandals back on one by one. You checked your reflection using the screen of your phone. Dusted the back of your dress down and plastered that well-known smile on your face before heading back over to the church.

As you approached you spotted the two familiar redheads, Natasha’s a deep red which blazed in the sun, whilst Wanda’s was a lighter shade which almost reflected the sun off of it. Also amongst the group of familiar faces were Pietro and Carol from college. Thor one of Steve's colleagues you liked him, his brother Loki who looked like he was about to melt in the sun, and of course the elusive but well renowned Nick Fury.

These weren’t the only familiar faces in the crowd. Sharon was one of the top socialites off New York, Reed Richards and his Wife Susan were in attendance, their two children were also here, Valeria and Franklin you had heard they were part of the wedding party.

Bucky and Sam appeared at the group shortly before you did, allowing you to slip in beside Nat and Thor. On the opposite side of the small circle like shape Wanda stood hanging off her partner Vision’s arms. She of course spotted you right away and broke through the group squealing your name with excitement.

“Y/N Baby, how are you? You look gorgeous in that dress if I may say so myself!” Wanda said pulling you into a hug and then kissing you on the corner of your mouth. Her lips the brushed against yours ever so slightly before she bounded back over to Vision.

Vision hadn’t missed her antics, but he like you had an unspoken agreement that when Wanda was in one of her giddy moods to just roll with it. He brought two fingers up to his head and half saluted/waved in acknowledgement of your presence. You smiled at him back. He was a good guy; it just didn’t help having their relationship shoved down your throat by Wanda every time you two spoke.

After a few minutes of catching up and posing for group shots with Sam and Bucky, everyone made their way inside. Sam and Bucky both shot you a reassuring smile before they headed of the end of the aisle.

“So Babe. Tell me what’s new? Any more saucy rendezvous with Bucky Barnes” Natasha asked as you all sat down on the pews. Somehow your plan to end up in the middle of the small pew did not work and you found yourself on the end of the pew closest to aisle. Oh well at least you were sat next to Natasha who in turn was sat next to Thor and then Nick. Wanda was sat on Separate pew behind you and was the opposite end of her pew. (one less ex to stress about)

“Nat” you hissed. “I told you, that was a one-time thing. Not even Sam knows. So, keep your mouth shut!”, you said rolling your eyes. Natasha was never one to take orders kindly, so she shifted around in her seat to talk to Thor and Nick.

Flashback:

“Sharon and I are engaged” Steve announced to the small group of you who had gathered at Bucky’s apartment. He made this announcement whilst avoiding eye contact with you (because of course he would). Nat and Sam jumped up to congratulate Steve. Bucky sat down next you with a cheerful grin. You felt your heart break, but you would be damned if golden boy wonder got to see that.

“Exciting news, aint it doll, you gonna be my date? I look mighty fine in a suit if you ask me” Bucky drawled. You looked up his ocean blue eyes and how they shined with such affection for you. You smiled at him before grabbing his beer and taking a long gulp. “Certainly is. Oh I don’t know Buck, I might ask Wanda or even Nat to be my date.” You replied shooting him a wink.

Bucky rolled his eyes, this was all part of the course with the pair of you two, he would flirt, you would joke back but never really return the favour.

After the five of you had all settled back down and congratulations had been shared, you checked your phone, half an hour had passed. Sufficient enough time to leave without making it look like you were leaving because of Steve’s announcement. Which of course you were. You grabbed your jacket from the back of your seat. Said your goodbyes to Bucky and Sam. Kissing them both on the cheek, Natasha had excused herself to make a call, so you would text her your apologies for missing her when you got home.

“Congratulations again Steve, I’m happy for you.” You said forcing yourself to sound sincere. The fact you had called him Steve and not Stevie hadn’t been missed by the three gentlemen at the table. Sam and Bucky shifted uncomfortably whilst Steve forced a small smile onto his lips.

You’d only been back in NYC for 3 months, so you were renting Sam’s spare room. You knew he wouldn’t be home for ages yet. No doubt he would stop of at Leila Taylor’s hotel room for the night as she was in town. So, when you heard a knock on the apartment’s front door 2 hours after leaving Bucky’s you were confused. None the less you opened the door. You expected it to be anyone but Steve.

“Steve!?” You tugged your robe around your body tighter. “What’s wrong? Is Sam okay?” You asked opening up the door inviting him in.

Steve shifted, his muscular frame feeling too big for your apartment. Avoiding your eyes he walked into the kitchen he helped himself to a beer he knew you and Sam stocked in the fridge. Steve was here often, especially for a regular Monday night boys night, recently you had been avoiding being in the apartment on a Monday night. Steve let out an exacerbated sigh and pushed one if his hands through his mess of blonde locks. Suddenly the tension between you cracked and Steve's usual happy demeanour clouded over.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Y/N?” Steve asked pointedly. “You’ve practically avoided me since you got back, I know you try and stay out late on Mondays, so you don’t have to face me. I tell you I’m getting married and you practically bolt out the door?!” his tone accusing.

“You left Y/N. You made the decision to go to England. You walked out the door that night” he said. The anger in his eyes and voice made you feel small. Steve had never been like this with you, never in all your years of friendship.

“You couldn’t even pretend to be happy for me Y/N?” Steve asked looking around utterly broken and wrecked. Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet yours. You stood there, tears in your eyes, arms wrapped around your body tight, you were trying to disappear. Where did Steve get off? Yes, you had left, but for Christ’s sake, Steve had practically pushed you out the door.

You felt all your resolve crack away. Fuck this he didn’t get to stand there and make you feel like the bad person. So, without a word. You walked over to Steven Grant Rogers and slapped him. Steve stood there shocked. You felt shame, anger, embarrassment, and most of all hurt, and with that your heart broke completely in half and you ran into your room sobbing.

Steve realised he had fucked up and ran after you, but you were too quick and shut the door on him locking him out. Steve sat outside your door pleading for you to let him apologise. You couldn’t hear him though, the sound of your blood pulsing in your ears and your heartbroken sobs drowning him out. Eventually you must have fallen asleep because when you woke up it was 2am and you were still in your clothes.

The next morning Sam had informed you that when he had returned Steve had been sat outside your bedroom door. He didn’t ask any questions but told you that Steve had asked if you would meet him at the Starbucks down the road for breakfast at 10. He also silently handed you a note.

You had met Steve that morning and accepted his apology, but your friendship would never be the same. Probably not helped by the fact that the night after Steve had announced his engagement, you went back round to Bucky’s with the intention of letting him fuck your brains out

Anticipation was building and you saw Sharon’s snotty family dressed in pastel, her mum made a mad rush along the side of the church pews, trying desperately not to get caught. It looked like one of the bridesmaids had left the bouquet behind. You couldn’t help but smirk. Certain that Sharon would be yelling at said bridesmaid somewhere in a back room. Such a shame how things always happen to the nicest of people you thought.

Natasha had stopped giving you the cold shoulder now and just as you and Thor were winding her up about her latest conquest the organ started playing. A hushed silence fell over the church, and everyone stood. The organ switched to the bridal march, all though to you it sounded like a death march.

Whilst everyone watched Sharon float down the aisle like the pageant queen she truly was. You let your gaze wander over to Steve. God he looked handsome in his tux. The black fabric stretched taught around his muscular frame. His usually deshelled blonde hair slicked back just slightly. You also let your gaze wander over to Bucky and Sam.

You couldn’t help but feel a stab of pride with the way they stood there in their sharp suits. Standing up straight and tall. Bucky’s usually loose long brown hair tied up into a neat man-bun. Sam’s presence could be felt from where you were sat a few pews from the back of the church. He always did know how to command a room. Just as you felt a small smile tug on your lips you flickered your gaze back to Steve. His eyes caught yours and your smile fell, and you felt that familiar ache in your chest once again.

The wedding started and everyone sat down, you fixed your gaze onto Bucky and Sam, not daring to let yourself look at Steve and his blushing bride. Everyone cooed about how beautiful she looked, and how handsome Steve was. Sharon’s family wiped away tears, you had blocked out the majority of what was being said focusing on the click of the cameras from the wedding photographers.

Then began the part you were really dreading. The Vow’s. Steve and Sharon exchanged vow’s nothing personal about them at all just the standard, I Steve rogers blah blah. You couldn’t help but feel your heart tighten a little when he slipped the ring on Sharon’s finger. The next few moments became a bit of a blur. Natasha had her hand on your leg in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

However, it seemed to spur you on for when the Priest spoke the words: “Speak now, or forever hold your peace” you stood up with shaky hands. Everyone’s eyes turned to you. Oh fuck what were you doing?! You were about to feign a medical emergency when you caught Sam and Bucky smirking out of the corner your eye. Their nods so slight that you almost missed them.

You didn’t need to look at the faces around you to know most of them were horrified, you were certain a few of your friends were putting it on for show, revelling in the drama. However as your eyes caught Steve’s, a look of hope flickered across them.

“Don’t marry her Stevie”, you said your voice barley a whisper. You had never been one for being the centre of attention in big crowds. You could feel yourself getting flustered. “What, the fuck, did she say?” Sharon screeched. Steve didn’t seem to be listening though and his baby blue eyes never left yours.

Taking a deep breath you continued “Don’t marry her. I know this is selfish, but she doesn’t love you, not the way I do” You stepped out into the aisle. No matter the outcome of this sudden outburst you were going to want to make a quick exit. “Fuck Steve, outside of your status, I bet she doesn’t know the first thing about you deep down, not really, not like I do” “You love summer, but not because of your birthday being in July. No, you love how everyone seems to always be happier in the sun. You prefer Winter over spring or fall because you love the way the nights draw in making you feel cosey as you curl up with a book. You’d also never admit it, but you’d take a bullet for Both Sam and Bucky, if it meant they got the chance to be happy. And lastly, you love the smell of sunscreen over anything else, because it reminds you of simpler times at the beach with Bucky when you were both younger” you were rambling now, and you struggled to stop.

Everything stood still, Bucky and Sam were now grinning like idiots. Steve stood at the end of the aisle mouth agape and Sharon was just in full on meltdown mode. Sensing that you may have just made the biggest mistake of your entire life, you went to leave. Something stopped you, the urge to address Sharon.

“He gets stressed every year around the anniversary of when Bucky went missing for 4 days on a hike up a mountain.” You said spinning around to face her.

“He still blames himself even though he was found thanks to Steve. He shuts down, but if you wrap him in a blanket and play old movie’s he’ll start to open back up” the tears in your eyes were falling faster than you could dry them. You were so busy staring at her you didn’t see Steve stalk up the aisle towards you.

“One last” you turned to face Steve again, however you were cut of by the feeling of his warm lips crashing on to yours. His hands cupped your face. “Shut up Y/N” he said pulling away. He grabbed your wrist and took of rushing back up the aisle towards the exit dragging you behind him.

The church erupted into chaos as Sharon screamed for Steve to come back. Many talked about the disrespect and tutted. Bucky and Sam whooped and cheered; a few people clapped in that slow confused sort of way. It was all a blur as Steve moved quicker than he ever had in his entire life. You were still in a daze. You couldn’t quite believe you had interrupted a wedding.

Steve moved off to the side of the church his grip on your wrist tightening as he fumbled in his pocket, it was like he was looking for car keys. Suddenly he remembered where he was. What he was wearing and that he was in a tux and did not in-fact have keys on him. However, the limo he had paid for to bring you and Sam and Bucky to the wedding could be seen just down the lane from the church.

Steve turned to look at you, before shooting you a wink and he took of running, you nearly stumbled over your feet trying to keep up. The driver seemed a bit a taken a back as Steve opened the door and pulled you in behind him. You still couldn’t hear anything as your heart was beating out your chest so loud you were surprised Steve couldn’t hear it.

Steve rambled of an address to the driver of the limo, assuring him that he would still get paid for the unplanned journey. The limo set off and Steve settled into the seats pulling towards him so that you had no choice but to straddle him. Finally, your heart beat slowed enough for you to process everything, and with that you started crying again.

He was yours again, after all this time, after all the heartbreak and angst he had chosen you. You didn’t believe it, which is why you were crying, certain this was a daydream, and you would once again snap out of it and find yourself back in the church.

Steve pressed his head towards yours, pecking gentle kisses on your nose, cheeks, and forehead, as if he seemed to understand what you were thinking. He opened his mouth.

“Baby, I didn't say my vows, So glad you were around, When they said speak now”

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hawksugarbaby · 4 years ago

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Momojirou

Fluff + flowershop Au

Jirou tied the apron around her back sighing in annoyance looking over herself in the mirror "Do we have this in black?" she called to her mother round the back of the flower shop who shook her head and apologised. "Sorry Jirou, I'm sure I can get one made for you though" she offered but the hero in training shook her head and started filling up thin metal buckets hung on the wall with water and plant food.

The neatly lined buckets on the wall hung slightly forward with worn labels with cursive names of flowers stuck on the front and jirou sighed heavily rolling up the ribbon rolls at the side so the trails of silky fabric weren't curled on the floor folded over each other in a tangled mess. "I would have been happy applying for a job at Domino's mum" she shouted to her mother setting up the cash register for the day. She didn't want to cause problems for her mum at the flower shop but she did need money, though it felt like cheating working for one of her parents. "Nonsense i'm sure you'll do great!" her mum encouraged and the purple haired girl nodded anxiously.

She flipped the closed sign to open and awaited customers as she stacked up vases and terracotta pots on the lacquered Ikea shelves shoved against the side and the door opened behind her. "Jirou?" a polite voice asked behind her, one she'd recognise instantly. She spun around holding a yellow glass and her face brightened red almost immediately. "Hey momo, h-how are you" she asked putting the glass down in the line of others and ignoring the rest of the shelving she had to do. "I'm good! It's lovely to see you. I didn't know you worked here?" she said, gesturing at the cozy and quaint building. Jirou just nodded quickly "It's my mum's shop actually but yeah. Take a look around and I'll be... well, here if you need help."

She nodded and grabbed a basket from the side starting to pull out flora from the buckets and taking note in her head how much the bouquet would cost in her head and keeping the red, pink and yellow colour scheme in mind the basket quickly filled. "What colour ribbon do you want?" Jirou asked standing in front of the wall, reels of colour dangling in front of her and scissors in hand. "Pink please" momo stated, standing very close to her friend and Jirou snipped off the fabric wrapping it on the handle of Momo's basket so it wouldn't get lost.

"Have you been working here long?" Momo asked as jirous typed in the order pressing the old keys on the register violently "just started a couple of weeks ago actually but I always feel like I'm gonna mess something up" she laughed nervously laying the flowers out on a piece of transparent paper lined with red tissue and rolled it around the flowers making a cone of paper around them keeping them safe for the journey. "I don't think you could mess anything up, you're so talented!" Momo complimented her eyes trained on Jirous hands tying the ribbon half way up the paper making the ends fan out and she repositioned the flowers inside so the composition didn't look too overwhelming in one spot.

"Well you're more amazing and I refuse to argue" Jirou said handing her the bouquet that she held gently like a fragile piece of china, "thank you Jirou" the brown eyed girl said with a smile. "O-of course. That's um 20.99" (I don't know japan prices) She said and the money was dropped into her hand then sorted into the slots in the register. "Well I'll see you on monday!" momo said, skipping happily out of the shop and Jirou nodded waving her out.

"What am I going to do with myself" Jirou groaned and her mum poked her head out the back of the store "was that the girl you like?" she asked politely stepping next to her daughter and they both patiently kept their eyes on the glass door "Yeah" jirou muttered covering her red face "well you certainly know how to pick them! What was she buying flowers for?" her mum asked, twirling her earphone jacks around her fingers and jirou's eyebrows knit together "I don't know actually?"

The week passed without much explanation from Momo and Jirou left it as it was assuming it was personal. But Jirou found herself back in the shop turning the succulents so the names faced the front and moved the ones in the wrong spot back to the right coordinate. The bell above the door dinged and Jirou turned slowly then jumped seeing momo again "H-hey momo! Nice to see you!" Jirou greeted clutching a succulent for life as the upper class women chuckled at her state "yes it's nice to see you too!"

'What could she be back for' jirou wondered handing a straw basket to jirou who had settled on white and purple this time gathering dahlia's, tulips and baby's breath into her basket.

Momo already knew Jirou had a job before she walked into the place. She didn't know how to function around Jirou feeling like she needed rebooting after every conversation and her face would burn instantly instead of her alabaster complexion. She'd walked past the flower shop a few times, silently admiring Jirou singing to the music on the radio through the window but not having the courage to go in. until last week, when the thought of visiting Jirou was too irresistible and she stepped in with no plan of action except "flowers"

"Can I help you with anything this week?" Jirou asked with an unusually cheery voice, the effects of being lovesick. "Yes actually do you have these daisies?" Momo asked, showing a picture of the larger daisies and you nodded reaching for one of the bottom buckets which were harder to see "Ah wonderful!" she cheered holding out the basket for you to place on the daisies. "Any colour of ribbon?" Jirou asked and momo skimmed over the choices "the creamy beige one is nice" she said running her fingers along the roll and you nodded cutting the ribbon to size.

"What are these little things Jirou?" she asked, examining the succulents in little cat shaped pots "oh those are succulents. They're really easy to look after; they don't require much just watered once or twice a month. Very popular for beginners" The purple headed girl said ripping the transparent paper and laying down a reddish purple tissue for the flowers to sit on gently and wrap in the paper typing a little bow in the front "can I get one of these too?" she asked politely carrying a little plant to the register "of course momo they are for sale" Jirou chuckled and scanned the barcode typing in the bouquet again.

"I'll see you Monday momo" Jirou said, walking her to the door and greeting another customer who entered and went straight for the pots without so much as a hello. Momo waved across the street and went on her way not wanting to put Jirou off work for too long though she wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her.

Again Saturday rolled around and she was prepared for momo's arrival that day dressing nicely instead of the scabby clothes she'd been wearing previously. And a bonus was Jirous mother got her the black apron with the shop's name embroidered across the front neatly in cursive.

The door opened chiming the bell and she spun quickly with a smile "Oh jirou you got a new apron! It looks wonderful on you!" she cheered giving the girl an excited hug. Both of the girls' faces bloomed red and Jirou stood in stunned silence grounding herself with the flowers and earth tones of the small shop. "Jirou do you have Marigolds perchance?" the kind girl asked softly and jirou dropped her shoulders "not at this time of year unfortunately but we have amaryllis which are similar colours!" Jirou suggested and momo nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a basket and following her to the suggested flowers.

she snipped off the orange ribbon and wrapped Momo's flowers again handing them to her and sorting the cash into the till "Jirou I have a question" momo said holding the flowers and staying in front of the till "would you like to go to a cafe down the road?" she asked "well I can ask for the rest of the day off I guess" Jirou muttered excusing herself and going to the back talking to her mum.

"With the girl you like?" she asked hanging her apron up and handing her daughter some change "yeah with her" "oh this is so exciting! Have a good time honey!" she said, shoving her out of the room and into Momo's back. "S-sorry. Mum said I could go!" she said holding the door for jirou and exiting the shop. jirou followed momo to the cafe down the road with similar cosy vibes as her flower shop and they sat down together.

"Whoever is getting all those flowers must be really lucky" jirou chuckled nervously looking up from her black as night coffee and momo raised her eyebrows "y-you think i'm buying someone else flowers?" she quizzed blowing on her tea to cool it before taking a sip, the greyish smoke puffing up and flying away to who knows where "well, yeah aren't you?" Jirou asked, suddenly confused. There was a second of silence and momo put her cup down knitting her fingers together "no i'm not getting them for someone else. the thing is I... Well the thing is I come in the shop to see you!" she admitted with a bright smile that could rival the sun. "to see me?" Jirou confirmed and the ravenette across from her nodded.

"I really like you. And I enjoy spending time with you but I couldn;t figure out a way of asking to see you more often so I... started visiting your shop because, well, I think you're amazing" momo explained not holding any feelings or words back unlike Jirou who was always so reserved "And I would love to date you if i'm honest" momo added handing the flowers to the girl in front of her as if she didn't buy them from her. "You want to date me? Why i'm so... awkward and i'm nothing like you" jirou chuckled nervously rubbing the back of her neck. Was this a prank? No Momo would never do that to someone. "Exactly, you're nothing like me and that's why I like you so much"

Jirou considered the reality of the situation for a moment worrying the world could shift into a nightmare any second or she'd wake up front this dream heartbroken and betrayed by her own heart and head. "I would like to date you too" she said back finally after a beat of confidence. "Ah i'm glad! I've wanted to tell you for so long!" Momo giggled sweetly and jirou twirled her jacks in her fingers "I can't believe I could have been with you sooner if I didn't think you were buying flowers for someone else" jirou sighed facepalming and hiding a small smile. This might be what she needed, her way of getting out her shell.

#bnha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #mha #boku no hero fanfic #momo yaoyozoru #kyoka jiro #momojirou #jirou #momo

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kookiesjoonies · 5 years ago

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rule breaker — jhs | part ten.

rule breaker | part ten: ramen & froyo.

a/n: this chapter is quite a few days late, but i literally had the worst case of writer’s block of my LIFE. i started this chapter, n then completely scrapped it. and i’m glad i did, bc the first draft was SHIT. LMAO. anyway, come talk to me abt hoseok n yn please. i want to hear your thoughts. especiallyyyy after this chapter! thank u all for reading! xo

main pairing: choreographer!hoseok x idol!reader

side ships: vmin, namkook

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, angst, wet dream (dunno if that qualifies as a warning, but uhhh just in case lmaodskjd), masturbation, squirting

— SERIES SUMMARY

your career as an idol comes first, end of discussion. and to make sure that you stay on track, you implement two foolproof rules to abide by:

rule #1: no distractions. rule #2: no mixing business with pleasure.

and those rules seem simple enough to follow. that is, until you develop a crush on your new choreographer.

Dance practice was over and you felt like you’d just run a marathon. No, wait, scratch that. You felt like you’d run five marathons. Dancing with Hoseok was no joke. He always pushed you to work harder, to do better. And any time you were convinced you couldn’t perfect a move, he’d encourage you and offer you a thousand reasons as to why you could.

Both of you were drenched in sweat. Your grey crop top soaked and dark in certain areas, perhaps revealing a bit too much of what was underneath. Hoseok’s hair was sticky and wet against his forehead, and he’d pushed it back since practice ended.

You’d have been stupid to ignore just how attractive such a simple gesture made him look. Still, you tried your hardest to push such thoughts out of your mind. You shouldn’t be thinking of him in such a way. But you blamed it on the sensual dance routine that you’d just completed with him.

Jimin was just supposed to be late to practice, but he ended up having to skip it all together. Which meant that every single sexy move you were supposed to do with your best friend, you’d done with Hoseok instead.

At first, it was awkward. You didn’t know where to put your hands, and he was hesitant to put his on your body as well. Eventually though, the two of you relaxed into one another. The feeling of his fingertips on the bare skin of your hips was exhilarating, as well as the feeling of his length being pressed against your ass while you pushed back against him.

The way that he watched you in the mirror, the way way his pupils had clearly dilated, sent immediate relief washing over you. You weren’t the only one affected by the routine the two of you were performing. But at the end of the day, it was just that. A performance.

And that’s what you’d keep telling yourself, even if deep down, you didn’t believe it even for a second.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Hoseok began, lifting the bottom of his muscle tank top up to his face to wipe the beads of sweat trickling down, “but I worked up quite the appetite.”

Your eyes shot down to admire his perfectly sculpted abs that were practically begging for your touch, your tongue poking out to wet your lips at the delicious sight.

“Y/n?” Hoseok was speaking again, this time albeit a little louder, which snapped you out of your trance.

Embarrassed, your neck straightened up so that you could now look at the man towering above you face to face. And you willed your cheeks not to turn red, hoping and praying that he didn’t catch you checking him out.

“Huh?” That was all you could muster up, unsure of what he’d even said to begin with.

To your surprise, he offered you a chuckle in response.

“I said I was hungry. You want to go grab lunch?”

The two of you’d never hung out outside of the studio before, so you were a little taken aback by his suggestion.

He could sense your hesitation, and he stuttered as he tried to play it off nonchalantly.

“Or, uhm— we don’t—, we don’t have to. I just figured—“

You cut him off, a small smile creeping it’s way onto your face. He really was adorable when he rambled.

“Hobi, we can get lunch. I just wish I didn’t have to go out in public looking so gross.” You were half joking, half serious.

Your hair felt greasy, you weren’t wearing any makeup, and your athletic clothes were sweaty and sticky. So, you were definitely not fit to be seen in public at the moment.

“You don’t look gross.” Hoseok was quick to reassure you, matching your smile with a wide one of his own.

“No?” You asked, wanting him to compliment you one more time. Even though, you weren’t sure why you wanted him to do so so badly.

“Nope!” he shook his head, “you look like you’ve been working hard.”

You internally groaned. Not exactly the kind of compliment you were hoping for, but it would do, you supposed.

“In that case, did you have a place in mind for lunch? Or..?”

“There’s this place down the street that has the best cooked ramen!” you found it adorable, the way he was so enthusiastic even while talking about food, “Is that okay? I mean— do, uhm— do you like ramen?”

A tiny giggle left your mouth before you could stop it, and you offered him a quick nod of your head.

“I love ramen.”

“Great!” he grinned, “let’s go then!”

Turns out, Hoseok was right. This place did have the best ramen. You were sure you could slurp up at least ten bowls of it.

Your choreographer was sitting across from you at the small round table. The place was quaint, small, and yet surprisingly busy. Various K-Pop songs boomed through the speakers overhead, and the hustle and bustle of the restaurant workers never seemed to cease. The sound of the other diners mumbling bounced off of the walls, and the aroma of the foods being cooked in the kitchen were to die for.

“So,” Hoseok spoke up after practically inhaling a few bites of his ramen, “do you like the place?”

You didn’t hesitate in answering, “Yes! I can’t believe it’s been so close to the studio for so long and I never knew about it.”

“You’re welcome.” He winked at you, a playful gesture that for some reason, had your heart doing flips in your chest.

You gathered a small bunch of noodles with your chopsticks, bringing them up to shove the food into your mouth.

“Aren’t you nervous people will recognize you?” Hoseok questioned, taking a sip of the soda that was sitting beside of his bowl.

You shrugged, chewing and swallowing the bite you’d just taken before answering him.

“It’s just part of the gig, you know?”

“No,” he admitted, “I don’t know. How do you do it? How do you deal with people constantly invading your privacy?”

“It’s not easy,” you answered honestly, “but I’ve been doing it for almost six years now, so. I’d like to think I’ve gotten used to it.”

“You handle it well. The way you carry yourself, even with all of the pressure you’re under, it’s admirable. And the fact that you’re so— so kind, so down to earth, even with the millions of fans you have.. it’s amazing, really.”

His series of seemingly never ending compliments were successful in creating flutters in your stomach. You were sure your cheeks and the tips of your ears were tinted pink, and your spine tingled as you happily took in every single one of his words.

“Hobi,” you couldn’t hide the grin that was now plastered across your face, “you’re too sweet.”

This time, it was Hoseok’s turn to blush. You’d said something so simple, yet it had the apples of his cheeks tinged red. He’d hoped you hadn’t noticed. But you did, which only made you want to continue your compliments further. If it meant seeing him like that, all flustered and shy, you’d compliment him twenty four hours, seven days a week.

Even if, technically, you shouldn’t be trying to make him blush. But at that exact moment, you couldn’t be bothered to give a single fuck.

“I mean it,” you continued, swirling the few remaining noodles around in the bowl below you, “you’re so kind to me, always. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

He glanced away from you then, turning his attention to watch the waiters walk in and out of the kitchen. You didn’t miss the dark shade of red that had taken over his entire face. And yeah, you found it undeniably adorable.

Before you could say anything else to him, a familiar sounding song blared from the sound system above you. You couldn’t help but to laugh, shaking your head as you listened to the low beat of take me.

Hoseok faced you again, a smirk present as his ears perked up to listen.

“Hey, that sounds kind of familiar.”

“Never heard this song before in my life.”

You kept a straight face, for the most part. But Hoseok didn’t miss the glimmer of playfulness in your eyes.

“Ahh,” he decided to play along, finishing up the last few bites of his meal, “a shame you haven’t heard it. The artist who sings it, she’s truly something special. Insanely talented, an incredible dancer.”

“Maybe she’s just an ‘incredible dancer’ because she has such a good teacher.”

“Nope!” he was quick to shut you down, “she’s talented because she’s hardworking and she never settles for anything but the best.”

If you didn’t know better, you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you. And maybe he was. Or, maybe you just wanted him to be? But then, why did you want him to be? Your brain was scrambled, too many thoughts running a million miles a minute.

The sound of footsteps approaching your table pulled you out of your own head, and standing before you was a tall, lean yet muscular man with dark hair. He had a freckle just under his bottom lip, which you were quick to note was quite cute. You assumed he was a fan, but as soon as he addressed the man sitting in front of you as Hobi, you quickly realized he was here for him and not you.

“Here’s that movie you wanted to borrow.” The younger boy handed a disk over to his friend, and you watched the exchange curiously.

“Ahhh! Thank you, Jungkookie! I’ve been wanting to see this for ages!” Hoseok quickly stuffed the film into his bag at his feet.

“Hmm,” you observed, tapping your manicured nails on the top of the table, “Jungkook, I presume?”

He seemed shock at the mention of his name. Or rather, at the sound of familiarity laced in your tone.

“Uhm, yeah..?” he cocked an eyebrow, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your attention turned to Hoseok, and you pointed a finger at Jungkook.

“Is he the one who thinks I’m a diva?”

Hoseok had a mouthful of soda, and damn near did a spit take at your obvious call out.

“You told her?!” Jungkook slapped his hyung’s shoulder, and you watched as Hoseok soothed the abused spot with his hand.

“It just slipped!” The older male was quick to defend himself, and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the whole ordeal.

“Guys,” you said, “it’s fine! Jungkook, I’m sorry that you think I’m a diva. I’d like to think I’m not, but your own opinions can’t be helped.”

“She is not a diva, I promise. She’s anything but.”

You couldn’t help but to smile wide at the sound of Hoseok defending your name.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Ahhh, I shouldn’t be so quick to judge, or to assume. I don’t even know you. I apologize.”

He bowed in front of you, and you waved him off.

“I promise, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I accept your apology. Any friend of Hoseok’s is a friend of mine.”

He sighed, relieved.

“In that case, could you get Jimin’s autograph for me? I’m like, his biggest fan.”

Hoseok groaned before bringing the palm of his hand up and dragging it down his face. You just laughed, nodding your head once in response.

“I’ll see what I can do. You should come by the studio with Hobi sometime, you’ll probably run into Jimin there.”

“Really?!” He lit up like a kid in a candy store, and it seemed as though his older friend had had enough.

“Okay!” Hoseok said, shooing Jungkook away from the table, “You’ve fulfilled your purpose of dropping off the movie. Thank you!”

“Awww, but hyung!” Jungkook pouted, “I was hoping I could join the two of you, and you know, tell her a secret of yours since you told her one of mine.”

You perked up in your seat, gaze shifting to Hoseok as you eyed him curiously.

“What secret?” You asked, hearing Jungkook snicker to your side.

“Ignore him.” Hoseok groaned.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave,” Jungkook held his hands up in front of him in defeat, “but you should tell her, is all I’m saying.”

“Tell me what?” You asked, intrigued and confused all at the same time.

Hoseok shook his head.

“Nothing, he’s just an idiot,” he insisted, laughing the entire situation off, “we should uhm— grab froyo after this, if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“Ugh, the key to my heart.”

He smiled at your immediate acceptance, flagging your waiter down and digging in his pocket for his wallet.

You did the same, unzipping your purse to retrieve your credit card.

“No, no, Y/n. I got it! My treat.”

“Hoseok, I can’t let you—“

Before you could argue further, the waiter was walking away with Hoseok’s money. He was unbelievable.

He paid for froyo, too. Despite your arguing.

The two of you were walking along the river, enjoying your cups of frozen treats. It was spring, nearly summer, so the weather was just right. The sun was shining beautifully on the water beside you, not a cloud to be found in the sky. It truly was a beautiful day.

“It doesn’t shock me that your favorite color is yellow.” You started, dipping your spoon into your birthday cake flavored yogurt.

“Why not?” Hoseok retorted, bringing a spoonful of his own dessert up and to his lips.

“Because it’s a bright, happy color. And you are a bright, happy person.”

He flashed you that big, toothy grin that you’d grown to adore so much.

“Alright then, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red.” You answered without hesitation.

He shook his head, quiet laughter exuding from his throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, “red just matches your personality perfectly.”

You cocked a brow, licking a bite of froyo from the spoon.

“How do you figure?”

“You’re full of fire, full of passion. A force to be reckoned with, you go head first into everything that you do and you don’t stop until you’ve achieved your goal.”

“You got all of that from the color red?”

“Mhm.” He just nodded at you, his smile never once faltering. Your damn heart was doing the flipping thing again and you feared it would leap right out of your chest if he looked at you like that for a second longer.

“Okay,” you said, dipping your spoon into the bowl, “you have to try this. It’s so good.”

You lifted the plastic utensil up to his mouth, and he only hesitated for a moment for allowing the sensation of birthday cake flavor to flood his taste buds. His eyes lit up, and his tone was enthusiastic.

“Mmm! That is good! I’m not usually a giant fan of cake flavored things, but I’d eat that.”

You fake gasped, bringing your free hand over your chest.

“How dare you! Birthday cake is the best flavor!”

“Pffft, no way!” he was quick to shut you down, gulping down another bite of his own treat, “brownie batter is. Here, you try.”

He was bringing his spoon up to your lips in an instant, and you poked your tongue out to give it a test lick. Usually, chocolate flavored ice cream wasn’t your favorite. But this was incredible.

“Aww, man! I like yours better!” You pouted, and Hoseok’s heart sank at the sight.

He knew you were being playful, but still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Here,” he held out his bowl to you, “we can trade.”

You shook your head, refusing the gesture, “I can’t take your food!”

“Yes you can! Please, for me. I want you to enjoy this.” His voice was kind, sincere. How could you say no to that?

“Only if you’re sure.” You said, hesitantly switching your bowl out for his.

“I’m sure.” He smiled at you again, and you felt like you’d been grounded down to the earth once and for all.

You didn’t make it home until the sun was about to set. Having too much fun with Hobi, you decided you could afford to stay out for a bit. He really was wonderful company, he seemed to make even the simplest of things fun. You’d hoped you’d get to hang out with him like that again in the future, the near future, to be exact. It was different than when the two of you were in the studio.

There, you were working. But today, you were out having lunch and enjoying spending casual time together. It felt like it went on forever, yet not nearly as long as you hoped it would last all at the same time.

However, you were happy to finally be in the comfort of your own home. Practice had kicked your ass today, and you were exhausted, grimy, and in desperate need of a shower and a nap.

Taehyung wasn’t home either, so you were home alone and excited by that fact. Very rarely did you ever have time to yourself and yourself alone. Except, you weren’t alone. And you didn’t know that until you walked into your master bedroom and saw Jimin sprawled out on your bed.

He nearly gave you a damn heart attack, had you shrieking like a banshee and clutching your chest.

“Jimin! What the fuck?!”

“It’s your fault for giving me a key.” He was flipping through a magazine, unfazed as ever.

“You could’ve texted me and told me you were coming over!” You scolded, and he just grinned.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Liar.”

You walked further into your room as you rolled your eyes, picking up a pillow and tossing it forcefully at his head.

“Hey!” He whined.

“Why did you show up here unannounced?” You questioned, lying down beside of him on your king sized bed.

“Wanted to see how practice went.” He turned the page, and you peered over his shoulder to see what he was reading. Of course it was a fashion magazine.

“Fine.” You answered simply, and your best friend was shutting the catalog instantly.

“Damn, one syllable is all I get? Must’ve been better than I thought.” His smile was mischievous, and you had half a mind to smack it right off of his face.

“We danced. I learned the routine, and you did not. Which means you’ll have to work extra hard trying to catch up tomorrow.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what you were trying to do.

“Dude, shut up. You know I could learn it in my sleep, and you also know the ‘routine’ isn’t what I’m asking about.”

“Jimin,” you groaned, “don’t start.”

“Was it hot? Did you get off on grinding on Hoseok?” He wiggled his brows, and you flicked his nose with your thumb and middle finger.

“Ow!” He cried out, bringing a hand up to rub over the sore spot you’d just created.

“Don’t ask stupid shit like that.”

“Come on, Y/n. It’s me. You can talk to me about this shit.” He tried to convince you, and somewhere inside of you, you wanted to.

Because yeah, maybe you did get aroused from Hoseok’s hands on your ass. And maybe you did get a little wet when you were grinding against his thigh.

But who wouldn’t have? He was a fairly attractive man, after all. It didn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You quickly changed the subject, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

Jimin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I know. Are you spending the night?”

You heard him sigh, a sad sigh that made your heart clench.

“I would, but... I don’t want to make Tae uncomfortable.”

“I get it. But you’re welcome to stay, you know that. This house is plenty big enough, and we always hang out in my room anyways.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve already pissed him off, or whatever. I’m sure me staying here would just add to that.”

You frowned, wishing that you could do something, or say anything to ease his obvious hurt.

“I love you, Chim.”

“Love you.”

Normally, you’d stay up until at least midnight. Tonight, however, you were exceptionally exhausted and were lying in bed by nine.

Your satin sheets felt extra comfortable underneath you, and your eyelids were heavy. Friends played on the big, wall mounted television in front of you, and the sound of your air conditioner running was lulling you right to sleep. Before you knew it, you were slipping into a state of blissful unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how you’d ended up in Hoseok’s apartment. And you definitely weren’t sure how you’d ended up nearly naked underneath him on his couch. You were squirming below his touch, his blunt fingernails lightly scraping down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His hips were rutting into yours, Hoseok’s hardened length rubbing along your soaked, clothed core. You were a moaning mess, slews of curses and praises spilled out of your mouth, letting him know that you were fucking loving everything that he was giving you.

“Hoseok, please don’t stop.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as you clutched onto his back in an attempt to keep yourself grounded. You felt like you were floating, like you were in a completely different time and place.

“God, I’ve waited so long for this,” he was growling lowly into your ear, his fingers descending south and flicking the thin strap of your thong against your hip, “waited so long for you.”

You yelped at the feeling of the string stinging your skin, your shriek turning into a whiny moan as you felt his hand begin to slip into your panties. You couldn’t wait for him to finally be where you needed him most. You didn’t care if his fingers were inside of you, his tongue, or his cock. You just needed some part of him filling you up. You needed it in the same way that you needed oxygen to survive, and you feared that you would die if he didn’t touch you right here, right now.

His head was hovering above yours now, and you were sure he was about to lean in for a kiss. Which had your pussy clenching around nothing. It had just occurred to you that you’d never kissed him, and all you wanted was to taste him. You were sure he’d taste delicious, sickeningly sweet.

Instead of his lips pressing against yours, though, they parted. And he began repeating your first name over and over again like a mantra, gradually getting louder and louder as the seconds ticked by.

One final yell of your name had your eyelids shooting open, the sound of Hoseok’s voice being replaced by the low tone of your brother’s. You blinked once, and then two more times for good measure. It took you a whole minute to realize that you were at home. In your bedroom, not in your choreographer’s apartment.

“Tae?” your voice was groggy, “what time is it?”

“Past ten. I could hear you from down the hall, it sounded like you were in pain so I came to check on you,” he said, cocking his head to the side as he stared down at you, “must’ve been one hell of a nightmare.”

Embarrassment immediately came over you, and you were thankful for the dark lighting of the room because you were sure your face was similar to the color of a tomato.

“Yeah— uh, just a... bad dream. I’m good.”

“If you’re sure.” His voice was laced with genuine concern, and you almost laughed. Such a protective older brother.

“I’m good, Tae. Swear.”

He nodded, mumbling a goodnight to you before turning to leave your bedroom.

You called out to him before he could shut the door.

“Hey, wait a second!”

“Yeah?” He was confused again, and you worried your lower lip before you spoke.

You weren’t usually one to meddle in his personal life, but this time, you felt like you had to. Or, that you at least had to try.

“You need to talk to Jimin. He thinks he made you upset, or mad. At the very least, you should tell him you aren’t angry with him.”

“Noted.”

That was all he said before he was shutting your door, and you couldn’t stop the dramatic roll of your eyes. Typical Taehyung.

You pushed your hair back and out of your face, grimacing as you felt the beads of sweat pooling on your forehead. In your half asleep state, you’d almost forgotten what you’d been dreaming about. You let out a groan as the images flashed through your memory.

Not only were you dreaming about Hoseok, but it was a wet dream. Surely, you hadn’t actually gotten aroused by it.

You bit down on your bottom lip before sliding your hand underneath your duvet, pressing your fingers against your underwear to test for any dampness. You gasped as you were greeted with soaked panties, hissing through your teeth as your fingertips barely grazed over your clit.

Before you really knew what you were doing, your hips were bucking up and into your hand. You pushed the cotton fabric to the side, letting your middle finger drag along your slick folds. You sighed at the feeling, your head tilting back as your eyes screwed shut. It was almost unbelievable how drenched you were just from a fucking dream. And a dream about your fucking choreographer, to beat it all.

You moaned at the images of Hoseok during practice earlier flooded your mind. He was so hot, and so sweaty. The way his fingers curled around your thighs had you wondering what it would feel like if he was the one touching you right now instead of yourself.

Maybe it was wrong, but you didn’t care. You kept yourself focused on Hoseok as you used your middle finger to circle around your throbbing bundle of nerves, whines and praises of his name slipping out of your mouth.

You dipped a finger down to tease your slit, imagining the entire time that it was him. You slipped a single digit into your heat and keened at the sensation. Hoseok’s fingers were much longer than yours, and you were sure he could have you cumming with them in no time.

Still, you decided to work with what you had and began to fuck into yourself until you were knuckle deep. You added a second finger and moaned at the stretch, your thighs beginning to shake already.

“Fuck, Hoseok!”

You picked up the pace of your fingers, curling once you found that spot that drove you absolutely mad. Using your free hand, you allowed your index and middle fingers to vigorously rub at your clit.

It was too much, too soon. Your walls contracted around your fingers, and your legs convulsed. Your thighs were trying to squeeze together and you were arching off the bed as you felt your lower stomach knot up, fire spreading from head to toe and making your toes curl.

Your orgasm hit so hard that you were practically screaming, Hoseok’s name being the only word left in your vocabulary. This was harder than any orgasm you’d had in a long time, and you could feel your juices squirting out and all over your hand and wrist. You squealed at the feeling, using your fingers to fuck yourself through your high.

Your breathing was erratic, and stars were circling above your head. You groaned as you pulled your hands away from your cunt, wincing at the emptiness.

An arm rested over your eyes as you attempted to stop panting. Slowly, you felt like you were back on earth again and the black dots you were seeing went away.

There was no fucking way that just happened. You did not get off while thinking of Hoseok.

You were furious. And you wished that you were mad at yourself, but the only reason you were angry was because you’d had to get yourself off. You wished it would’ve been him doing it instead.

Against your better judgement, you grabbed your phone off of your nightstand. It was eleven now, and although Hoseok was sure to be asleep, you needed to hear his voice. For what reason? You weren’t sure. Either way, you were scrolling through your contacts to find his name, pressing the call button with a bit too much enthusiasm.

When he answered the phone, his voice was raspy, deeper than usual. You were right, he’d been asleep.

“Hello?”

“Uhm, hi.” You said, voice shy and almost inaudible.

“Y/n? What time is it? Is everything okay?” He sounded worried.

“I’m okay! Uhh, it’s past eleven. I’m sorry for waking you, I didn’t mean to.”

Yes you did.

He was beginning to sound a bit more awake now, and you heard him yawn on the other line.

“It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting you to call. Or, call this late.”

“Yeah..”

It was silent for a few seconds, neither of you knowing quite what to say. You couldn’t exactly tell him that you’d just made yourself squirt to the thought of him. And he wasn’t about to tell you that he was glad you called.

“What are you doing up?”

“Uhm—“ you stumbled, trying to come up with any excuse other than the truth, “I couldn’t sleep.”

You heard him chuckle, and it was as if all of your worries and nervousness evaporated at the sound of his laughter.

“Not that I’m not flattered, but.. why did you call me because you couldn’t sleep?”

You groaned internally. Why did he have to ask such questions?

“I just... I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you, is all, I guess.”

“Okay.” He seemed satisfied with your answer, and you sighed in relief.

“Hobi?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you FaceTime me until I fall asleep?”

As badly as you longed to see him in person, you figured that this would do for now.

“Absolutely.”

He was calling you instantly, and you smiled as soon as you laid eyes on him. His hair was disheveled from sleeping, and his cheeks were a bit puffy. Suddenly, the other side of your bed felt a bit too empty. And you wondered what it would feel like if he were laying beside of you.

↼ masterlist ⇀

a/n: if you’d like to be added to the tag list, just send me an ask, message, or reply to this post! let me know what you think of the series, i love hearing your feedback. enjoy! xo

tag list: @ppersonna @neouihobi @vanteatj1n @55west81st @jjiminah @cesthoney @vaehyungsworld @ggukiyo @devotedlywriting @consensual-trashtalk @w1tchcraftt @threedecadesofawkward @chocobetterknot @americano-sprite @yoongisabby @hobi-love @justpeachyjoon @excuseme-youpretty @sunkissed725 @amoreguk @koostime @cobbiebaexqueen @imluckybitches @taefect94 @parkmaeri @bts-7-forever @gukniverse @untainted-memories

a/n: tumblr won’t let me tag certain people for whatever reason. so if you’ve asked to be tagged and don’t see your name, that’s why! i apologize. :/

#hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #bts #bts smut #bangtan #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #bts imagine #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts fake social media #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts smau #jhope #bts reactions

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andshedoesitagain · 4 years ago

Text

Taking care of you.

Spencer Reid x Reader Words - 2440

@paracosmoses asked - “ Hey, Dylan! I hope you're safe 💚 I absolutely melted while reading "I'll carry you", so I wanted to request a reid imagine (totally fine if you don't feel like it): reader being a bau member who had confessed feelings for reid and he'd rejected them (even tho he felt the same). One night out at a karaoke with the team, reader gets drunk and sings like goodnight n go/imagine/rem (i'm just a sucker for ari but thought i'd be fitting), and they talk.. Idk i'm terrible w plots but i trust you hehe.”

///Thank you so much for this request!! I hope you’re safe too and thank you for the compliment, writing this was a lot of fun and the plot you came up with was great!! So I hope you enjoy it :) ///

Warnings - Alcohol & Vomit

It had been no surprise when you and Spencer had gotten paired up to do a late shift, paperwork that had been piled up for days, mysteriously placed on your desk just as everybody was rushing out the door to get home. It wasn’t like you minded much though, you practically spent every waking moment with your curly haired teammate, having become close when you had first joined the BAU, and the others had obviously taken notice.

Looking up from the last file in front of you, you were met with a gentle smile and a hand stretched out your way, raising a brow you let out a confused chuckle. “Yes?”

“I’m going to walk you home,” Spencer stated, his hand still outstretched. Taking a quick glance to the file, you quickly signed off on it before swivelling your chair to look at the man in front of you. Shaking your head amusedly, you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “You don’t need to walk me home, I know we live close, but I imagine you’re wanting to get home as much as I am.” You said, picking up your jacket and bag, looking at him over your shoulder.

“No, it’s okay, I like knowing you got home safe anyway.” This made you smile, looking back to the ground to avoid him seeing the small flush on your cheeks. “Okay, if you insist,” dramatically you dragged out your words, gazing at the small smile on his face as he pulled on his own jacket.

You had spent most of the walk joking around with him, trying to ignore the fleeting bumping of hands, or how he’d pull you to the side when you were just away to walk through a puddle. Every little thing making you overthink, although you did your best to dismiss the butterflies in your stomach, although they only continued to build as you contemplated the confession on your mind.

It wasn’t until you finally reached your front door, did you feel your chest begin to ache. “We’re here, and your safe, so I think I’ve done my duties,” Spencer joked, your own little chuckle slipping out.

Taking a deep breath, you felt a surge of confidence. “I uh, I have something to tell you.” The words came out quick, rolling out your mouth before you really had a moment to think about them. Spencer nodded, taking his hands out of his pockets. “I don’t want this to change anything about us, I just need to tell you, to just get it off my chest, okay?”

Reid nodded, his expression soft except the slight furrow of his brow. You took another deep breath. “I have feelings for you.” As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back up, even more so when Spencer looked to the ground, avoiding your eyes completely as he tried to slink away. For the first time you felt like you couldn’t read him, and it almost hurt.

“I-I’m sorry.” The words hit you like a truck, a type of blind confusion you weren’t used to smacked across your face. Spencer still hadn’t look back at you, “I can’t, it’s just not—” As he stuttered his way through his words, you cut him off, nausea and embarrassment both taking over your body.

“It’s fine, never mind,” you weakly laughed, “just pretend I never said anything, I’m tired, that’s all, not thinking straight.” He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Taking that as your queue you turned around to open your front door, the shaking in your hands causing you to fumble with your keys, “shit,” you mumbled in frustration.

As you got the front door open, you turned to Spencer who stood still in the same place, a look of guilt painting his face, “goodnight, Spence,” voice cracking you smiled at him before closing the door.

The next few days were difficult, a new type of stiffness now surrounding the both of you, and you had taken every chance you could to avoid being alone with him, in truth you felt guilty, having drove the wedge between the both of you in the first place. Despite the tension, Spencer still sent you soft smiles from across his desk, and you still found a cup of coffee placed on your own desk every morning, the same little smiley face drawn on as he usually did, but things still felt different.

Your other teammates had also felt the subtle shift of atmosphere, them all send quizzing looks your way, JJ even pulling you to the bathroom at one point to talk. Awkwardly you stumbled through what happened, although instead of the look of awkward sympathy you had been expecting to get, she instead held one of confusion, biting her lip as pushed her hair behind her ear, muttering a quiet, “well that doesn’t make sense.” Though she quickly brushed it off when you brought it up.

“Let’s go to a karaoke night,” Penelope randomly proposed that night, your team all pursing their lips sceptically, “aww, come on, it’ll be fun, and it’ll be a nice change of scenery from our usual bar!” Looking at you almost pleadingly, you titled your head slightly back at her before sighing.

“Sure, I’m up for it.” Sitting back in your chair, you smiled at Penelope who clapped her hands excitedly, glancing over you caught a pair of brown eyes, Spencer gingerly staring at you before looking over to Penelope.

“I’ll come too,” Spencer said trying to play it off nonchalantly as he was met with the others looks of confusion. Soon enough the others agreed, and you found yourself driving towards the quaint but flashy karaoke place.

Everybody had ordered drinks as soon as they got in, and you hadn’t held back, practically throwing them down as you sat with the others, causing Derek to pat you on the shoulder, “woah slow down there, kid.” The others also took notice of your quickly emptying glasses, Reid looking at them like he was counting them before shooting a slightly worried glance your way.

One by one your team went up and sung on the karaoke machine, everybody clapping along with whatever song even if it was slightly out of time and messy. Resting your face in your hand, you smiled happily and slightly drunkenly at Penelope while she sung up on the stage, hollering as your vision danced and blurred.

When she came down, she accepted a round of high fives from everybody at the table, before JJ spoke, “C’mon Y/N it’s your turn now!” They all clapped and gently nudged up to the stage as you staggered slightly, laughing as you clambered on to the stage.

Absentmindedly you scrolled through the little screen containing the songs until you found one you knew, “I love this one!” You exhaled grinning over at your teammates who were all still shouting their words of encouragement.

The music kicked in through the speakers and you found yourself swaying to the music, every few moments squinting to look at the screen through fuzzy eyes. “Tell me why you gotta’ look at me that way, you know what it does to me,” you sung into the mic, your gaze searching for a familiar head of curls, locking eyes as you continued. “I got you, I got you dreamin’, close your eyes and your screaming.” Staggering through the words, you still swayed not looking away from Spencer, whose cheeks were almost as red as yours.

Cheering still rung throughout the room, “Oh why’d you have to be so cute, it’s impossible to ignore you, ah,” all shyness was abandoned due to your stomach full of alcohol, “why must you make me laugh so much, it’s bad enough we get along so well, just say goodnight and go, oh, oh, oh.” Spencer hadn’t taken his eyes off you, shifting in his seat as worry slowly furrowed into his brow, stressfully watching as you continued to stagger and sway.

It wasn’t until you felt a burning in your throat did you pause, stomach churning as you rushed off the stage. You had practically thrown yourself into the bathroom, retching over the toilet for a couple of minutes, before sliding down the wall, dizzy and your body aching all over.

Catching a glimpse of your self in the mirror, you saw how red and patchy your face as well as how swollen your lips had become. The bitter taste of alcohol and vomit coated your mouth, as you just rested your head against the wall, your eyes fluttering close tiredly.

A gentle knock from the door, alerted you, “it’s occupied right now,” you croaked out, your throat still scratchy and sore. Despite your words, the handle slowly went down, and Spencer poked his head around it, eyes widening as he looked at the state you were in.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Kneeling beside you, he placed his hands on either side of your face, feebly you rolled your eyes open.

“Hey Spence, not really,” you slurred, “I’m really drunk and really sorry,” as nonchalantly as you spoke, your face still scrunched up in his hands, reaching up to pull on his sleeve you spoke again, “like really sorry that I ruined everything, and I’m really sorry I’m in love with you, it’s okay you don’t love me back, really it is.” Eyes beginning to water, Spencer’s own eyes widened once again.

“Hey, hey it’s ok,” pushing your hair behind your ear with his finger, his tone was soothing and careful as he spoke again. “Let’s get you home, okay?” Although his words weren’t really registering as you just wanted to fall asleep right there and then, you nodded letting your hand fall to the ground as you let go of his sleeve.

Practically lifting you to your feet, you put your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes once again, as you both walked out of the bathroom. Placing you on a chair, you heard mumbles coming from him and your other co-workers just being able to make out, “…taking her home…” the rest all sounding garbled in your head. Your jacket being placed over your shoulders, you felt hands calmly pushing your arms into the sleeves before moving away. You could also just make out Penelope’s voice near one ear, as well as feeling a small kiss being placed on top of your head, and even with your eyes closed you pulled a tired smile.

Before you knew it, you were on your couch, the moments from the karaoke place to your house missing from your memories. Opening your eyes once again you smiled at Spencer who was knelt in front of you his voice fading in, “…Y/N hey, here’s a glass of water, take a few sips for me,” his voice was patient and soft as you took a drink, the water cool against your hot throat. “Awesome,” he said as you placed the glass down.

Blinking a few times, you surveyed your living room, “How’d I get here?” You asked, looking back to him.

“I drove you, but you have to get some sleep now, can you get your jacket off while I go and find a bowl?” You nodded in reply pushing the jacket from your shoulders and dumping it on the ground. Hearing some clambering, Spencer emerged back bowl in hand, he placed it down by the couch, hoping you’d take initiative if you were going to be sick again. “Okay, lie down on your side, slowly,” he directed, his tone still patient as you shuffled around and lied down, Spencer adjusting the pillow under your head.

“Are you gonna stay?” You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Of course,” you heard just as you slowly slipped to sleep.

As soon as the sun hit your eyes, you groaned, your head pounding violently as you pushed yourself up onto your elbow. Looking down your eyes squinted at the blanket tucked around you, even more when you looked down to the shoes still on your feet. However, you couldn’t help your expression of shock when you looked over to the other couch in your room, Spencer splayed out across it, yet facing you, fast asleep.

He also still had his shoes on, his jacket placed neatly over the back of the couch. Swinging your legs over the couch, as silently as possible you pulled off your shoes, before tiptoeing over to where he was. Sitting next to him you softly poked his shoulder, “Spencer,” he continued to sleep, “Spence, wake up.”

Finally, his brown eyes fluttered open, slightly bloodshot, purple bags standing out under his eyes. Sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes, smiling warm-heartedly at you, “hey,” he whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile back, “good morning.”

“Are you feeling better?” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down.

“My head feels like it’s on fire,” you laughed timidly, pushing your own hair behind your ear, memories of last night slowly pouring in. Gasping you put your head in your hands. “Oh my god,” your eyes darted back up to him, cheeks red, “I am so sorry about last night, I don’t know what I was thinking, just forget anything I said…or did, oh god.” You placed your face back into your hands, too embarrassed to look at him.

This time he took one of your hands away from your face, “no, I’m sorry.” Looking to the ground in thought, “when you told me about how you felt, I didn’t know how to respond, or how to feel,” slowly he rubbed small circles into your hand, as you listened intently, “I never expected you to feel the same, so I tried to push away how I felt about you.” Gradually, your eyes widened, your mouth dry.

“You feel the same way?” The words came out slowly, like you were still processing them while you spoke.

Spencer mumbled, “yeah, and I should’ve told you that night, I don’t even know why I didn’t, it was just all so shocking, and then it felt like you were avoiding me, and then I thought it was too late,” he rambled, your expression softening. Without thought you threw yourself into him, wrapping your arms him in an embrace, “I would totally kiss you right now, but even I don’t wanna taste my own mouth right now.” Laughing, he held you tight, pulling back to push your hair behind your ears with both of his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“This’ll do for now.” He mumbled, matching your grin and soft eyes.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n

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jackdevil4311 · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean Eyes [Bucky Barnes]

Pairing: Bucky x You, Bucky x Reader

The winter soldier… he was my ‘friend’. Well ‘was’ I used ‘was’ but he still comes to me. He doesn't know why, but he does. He always finds me. I never mind.

||Playlist||

Immortal : Reinaeiry >prologue

Ophelia : The Lumineers >Ch. 1

The One That Got Away >Ch. 2

Clarity : Zedd >Ch. 3

Crush : Tessa Violet >Ch. 4

Make you mine : PUBLIC >Ch. 5

Halo : Beyonce >Ch. 6

Lovely : Billie Elish >Ch. 7

Ocean eyes : Billie Elish >Ch. 8

Remember me : Miguel >Ch. 9

Idk You Yet : Alexander 23 >Ch. 10

Are you bored yet? : Wallows >Ch. 11

Young And Beautiful : Lana Del Rey >Ch. 12

One day : Tate Mcrae >Ch. 13

Youth : Troye Sivan >epilogue

Word count: 987

Immortal Ch. 1

He looked into the mirror of his victim. He removed his goggles for a clear moment. His reflection stared back at him. Icy blue staring into his soul and his true self seeped through.

“Would she want this?” He asked himself aloud quietly.

“would who want this?”

“Her.”

He shut his eyes gently as he imagined her leaning against his chest and her face in his shoulder. Her breath on his neck.

He was always sent to kill her only when she was 19. Just because he snuck away to see her. He didn't even know why he snuck away to her at first. But when he saw her he knew. He knew he would have to kill her too. But she never cared, she just said “I’d rather you kill me than anyone else, I’d rather die than never see you again. Not see you in another life, not even when you die and I’m not given another chance in the afterlife. I’d rather die. I just want to see you at least one last time before I go.” She would always say that before he killed her. And she wouldn’t care, he always made it quick and painless.

His heart speeds up, as tears roll down his face. Why was he crying? He didn't know her. He didn’t know the girl who was now laying in his arms, dead. Anger. He felt anger, and sadness, and just out of control.

Next time, he’ll hold back on coming to her, and falling to his knees and rubbing his face into her stomach as she gently pet his head. He wanted to feel alive. He wanted a reminder that the universe wasn't keeping them away from each other. But she always said “The universe tries to keep everyone away from each other who it knows would be the perfect pair, and if they don't fight, they don't get anything, if they do, then they get everything. Like men and money, like wolves with the moon, like cat and milk, especially cats and milk they’re lactose tolerant.¨

He got up with her in his arms and placed her on the bed. He gently removed the little heart watch she gave to him on her death bed so many years ago. He could always tell who she was by a small freckle under her right eye shaped like a heart. So that way he could give her the little heart clock on a red velvet ribbon and give it to her like she asked him to do every time.

He went out the window, the rain dampened his hair and shoulders as he placed the goggles on once more. He walked away to the van that was parked down the block, it always was, wasn't it? It wasn't there now. Where did it go? He sighed, not caring, he sat down on a bench. The rain continued to soak him and he looked up to the sky.

He shut his eyes once more and imagined you dancing with him in the rain. You sang a song gently, it was in a forign tongue, greek. It sounded so lovely. He could hear himself singing an old song, one from his time.

“When you wish upon a star.” He sang aloud.

“Nothing happens.” A voice from within him stated.

He ignored every bit of it. A smile still rest on his face, unable to be seen from behind the mask.

“Makes no difference who you are.” He could hear you singing along sweetly. “Anything your heart desires, will come to you-”

“The hell are you singing soldat?” His head shot up to the russian man who was hidden from inside the van.

He shook his head and his smile dropped.

He got up from the bench and got in the back. He shut his eyes once more, the smell of the rain gone, in its place was cigarettes and booze. He wondered if he would ever make it out of here and live in a quaint little cottage somewhere in virginia or maybe vermont. He can't remember which one you said was better to live in for what the internet called ‘cottage core´, which was apparently the one he fit into. You fit more into a goblin core stage.

He adored every little thing you brought and or made him. Right now, he was holding a ring made out of a fork that he made you, just because you showed him how. Both the ring and the choker were in his pocket, he always kept it hidden.

The sun kissed his skin through the shut window like how you did. It was rising with the fresh dew. He wished so badly for you to save him, he never asked you to, but he thought about it. He thought about it hard.

He knew he would see you soon, he knew a baby was being born, somewhere in new york, and it was you. He knew that he would be forced to kill you again if he didn’t stay away, but he also knew that you would find him and he would find you, again and again. Over and over.

This wasn’t your first few lives, he knew that but as far as he knew you were 104. But he loved every single version of you. Every single life you live, always spent wondering and caring about him. Every bruise, every cut, every form of pain, you soothe.

He knew you would be back, it was your pattern, you took him out shopping, you gave him clothing, you read him stories, you soothe him after his nightmares, you help him exist and make him believe he is a person. And what did he give you? Love and attention, protection and a sense of security. That’s all you wanted. He felt his hands grow cold. He knew that she was here now and that he wouldn't be able to save her as soon as he would like. But he would find her. And lose her.But he would hold her. And then he’ll lose her again, because the universe is keeping them apart, and he was going to fight. For her.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x yn #james bucky barnes

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mayquita · 5 years ago

Text

Damn You For Making Me Love You (11/15) - I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 7100 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: Welcome to Storybrooke... Last flashback of this story. In fact, almost the entire chapter is a huge flashback, which makes me a little nervous about your reaction. Still, I had a great time writing it and it felt like it was kind of a tribute to the show as I tried to include several significant elements from Storybrooke. I hope you like it :)

Chapter 10: I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

Killian - December 2019

Killian couldn't believe what just happened. It was as if by the time Emma finally pressed her lips to his, his brain had stopped working properly, his mind plagued with pictures coming in flashes while he felt like his body might combust.

Although it had been a few minutes since Emma ran away, he hadn't yet been able to recover, not when he still had difficulty catching his breath. Not when his lips still tingled, craving for more; not when he could still feel a soft humming under his skin. But above all, he felt slightly dizzy, the memories that clustered in his head too powerful to be stopped, making him unable not only to process what had just happened but to react to Emma's sudden departure.

He would have gone after her if his legs had responded to him, or at least would have tried to stop her or talk to her, but he hadn't even been able to utter any sound. Instead, he remained paralyzed and in a state of astonishment that he had not yet recovered from.

After letting out a deep breath, he leaned on the door, letting his head rest against the smooth surface as he put a hand to his mouth and brushed his lower lip with his fingertips. He then closed his eyes, his tongue licking his lips in a desperate attempt to retain the vestiges of her taste while an unstoppable wave of memories took up residence in his mind. Unable to fight them, he simply gave up and allowed that incredible moment that he had treasured as the most precious of dreams to finally come true.

Storybrooke - Fifteen months ago

When Liam announced that they would take an unexpected trip over the weekend, Killian could barely contain his enthusiasm, especially when he learned that Emma would also accompany them.

Killian didn't even care that the absence of the three of them during the weekend would imply that they would be depositing the reins of The Kraken in the hands of Robin and Ruby. But if his brother, who was the business expert, considered it feasible, he wouldn't be the one to complain. Especially since, after all, as Liam had assured, it was a business trip.

Emma didn't think it was, apparently. Something that Killian found amusing in a way, since she seemed to care more about the success of the business than the owners themselves, or at least one of them.

"I don't quite get it. Wouldn't it be more appropriate for us to travel in the middle of the week?" Emma asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Killian watched her reaction carefully, praying silently that she wouldn't want to stay behind and not travel.

"I'm afraid it's not possible, lass. I already have an appointment scheduled for Friday afternoon," Liam explained without giving further details. Killian internally thanked Liam that he hadn't suggested that Emma stay behind. "In addition, there's this place that we are going to visit that is only open on weekends. So, there is that," his brother added, giving his voice an enigmatic tone while raising an eyebrow.

That's how they ended up in Liam's car on Friday morning with Storybrooke, a small town in Maine, as a destination. The trip did not start well for Killian, since last night he hadn't been able to chain together more than two hours of sleep in a row. Probably because of the nerves generated by the prospect of spending three whole days with Emma in a different environment, for once.

Emma had spent the night in their apartment so they could leave earlier the next morning. So when he had risen sporting the obvious signs of lack of sleep, far from showing a little commiseration for him, Liam and Emma had found in him a target for their jokes. To make matters worse, his brother had decided to betray him, offering Emma the passenger seat, so he had to resign himself to occupy the back seat, all alone.

"It's too early to be in a grumpy mood, little brother," Liam addressed him through the rearview mirror. "Don't take it personally, but Emma is a better co-driver than you."

On that, he agreed with Liam. Emma was better than him, not only as a co-driver but practically in everything, except perhaps in singing, but he wasn't going to admit that out loud. "It's younger. Besides, you're using the bloody GPS, why do you need a co-driver?"

Killian heard giggles coming from Emma, but at least she kept silent. The last thing he needed was the two of them allying against him once more, taking advantage of his moment of weakness.

"You're right, I'll put it another way. Since Emma has already ingested her morning dose of caffeine, her company is much nicer than yours. Better?”

In response, he let out a huff of annoyance as he grabbed his phone and connected the earphones, ready to ignore the other two throughout the trip. Emma decided to join the party before he even had time to put the earbuds in his ears, though.

Even from his position, Killian could see her playful expression through the mirror in the sun visor. "Come on, Killian, you're such a drama queen. We did it thinking of you, so you can sleep all the way."

He was tempted to do just that, but the lack of sleep was wreaking havoc on him, pushing him to act like the immature person he was sometimes. So instead of sleeping, he dedicated himself for the rest of the trip to keep Emma busy in her co-driver job.

"I'm hot, turn on the air conditioner."

"It’s cold now, can you turn up the temperature?"

"The radio's volume is too low."

“I hate that station, can you switch to a different one?"

Killian wasn't sure what was driving him to act in such an impertinent way, but he seemed unable to stop, to the point that he soon managed to spread his bad mood to the other two occupants of the vehicle.

Only when the Welcome to Storybrooke sign came into view did he manage to relax and remain silent, focusing instead on observing the landscape through the window. His brother and Emma probably appreciated the break as they also remained silent, the music of his favorite station the only sound that resonated inside the car.

Even without getting out of the car, Killian detected a particular aura in the streets. It was as if the thick forest that bordered the town had functioned as a kind of time portal sending them back to the 80s. It was a quaint place, no doubt, so he was immediately attracted, his tiredness and his previous irritability gradually fading as they moved along the main street.

That improvement in their moods was fleeting, though. It lasted exactly five minutes, the time it took to park the car in front of the bed and breakfast where they would be staying and discover that there was a misunderstanding with the rooms booked by Liam.

"See? Here, Mr. Jones, a double room." The person behind the counter, an old woman with gray hair looking at them over her glasses, insisted, an exasperated expression on her face as she pointed to the hand-written reservation on a notebook, which seemed to be at least the same age as the woman. No sign of any technological device on the counter, unless we consider a phone that looked as old as everything else around.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I don't know if I explained myself correctly. I contacted by phone a week ago to reserve two rooms, one single and one double." Liam raised a hand with two fingers up, to emphasize his words and then waved the other hand to encompass the three of them. "Besides, as you can see, we are three people." Although Liam maintained a polite tone, Killian did not miss the hint of irritation in his voice.

"That won't be a problem, Mr. Jones." The woman waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "There is enough space to place an additional bed."

"And what about if you get us an additional room instead?" It was almost fun to watch Liam struggling to stay polite but gradually losing his patience.

"I'm afraid it won't be possible, sir." The old woman affirmed, her tone not apologetic at all.

Killian exchanged a furtive glance with Emma, who kept her lips pressed together as if trying to hide an incipient grin. Liam instead seemed increasingly annoyed. He pinched the bridge of his nose before addressing the woman again. "And may I ask why?"

"We're celebrating a festival in the village during the weekend. It is quite popular in the surroundings, so we already have all the rooms reserved, I'm afraid." Just when Killian was about to intervene, suggesting Liam to let it pass, that they would find another accommodation, the woman continued as if she had read his mind. "I must also add that this is the only establishment of this kind in the town."

"Of course it is," Liam grumbled under his breath, though not low enough that Killian wouldn't hear it. Emma, on the other hand, let out a snort before speaking.

"Come on guys, it's not like it will be the first time we sleep under the same roof. It's not a big deal," Emma assured as she shrugged one of her shoulders.

"So a double room then?" the woman behind the counter asked as she held what looked like a heavy metal key in her hand. Liam simply nodded in silence. "Good. And now if you are so kind as to wait here for a few minutes, I will inform my assistant to install the additional bed."

"Uhm, thank you," Liam muttered as he grabbed the old key.

"I guess there will be at least two beds," Killian commented a few minutes later as they climbed the stairs after they were told that the room was available for them.

There was one king-size bed.

And a tiny cot.

After leaving their belongings in a corner, Killian and his brother began to inspect the room while discussing possible sleeping arrangements and tried to locate an alternative that could function as an improvised bed.

"At least the bathtub is an adequate size."

"Guys..."

"And that armchair seems quite comfortable."

"Guys..."

"Look, there are several blankets inside the closet."

"GUYS!" The two men snapped their heads in the direction of Emma, who remained in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, a scowling expression on her face. "Are you guys seriously discussing sleeping options when we already have full space for all three? What is this, a kind of old fashioned chivalry act or something?” She didn't even give them time to reply, since she immediately added, "I'm the one who will sleep in the damn cot."

They had managed to piss her off, if the tone of her voice and her sulky expression were an indication, but Killian felt a special predilection for the fire in her gaze that appeared on these occasions. He was tempted to continue teasing her, but he thought better and instead tried to offer an explanation.

"Swan..."

"Don’t Swan me," Emma cut him off abruptly. "You two can share the large bed. That's final." Killian and Liam exchanged one last look and then Killian looked back at her with an apologetic expression, scratching behind his ear, while his brother remained quietly beside him. They knew it was better not to argue with Emma in these situations. "And now, can we continue with our plans?"

"Just for the record, Swan. This wasn't about you. Rather, I wanted to avoid sharing a bed with him. Believe me, sleeping with Liam is probably more torture than sleeping in that awkward contraption."

His comment got a smile from Emma. Liam, on the contrary, let out a snort while rolling his eyes, although that wasn't enough to stop Killian. "Can you imagine hearing a constant snoring in your ear while he keeps stirring in bed while he sleeps? That's my brother." Killian kept teasing Liam, nudging him with his shoulder as he stifled a laugh, earning a glare from his brother.

"Of course I'm the one to blame here. Why doesn't that surprise me?" Liam shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his mouth. "Now that the sleeping arrangements are made, can we get out of this room now? We have an appointment." Liam's voice revealed that he was upset, not only because of Killian's comment but because of the previous awkward situation with the old woman. "And I don't snore."

This time Killian couldn't suppress a chuckle bubbling in his throat while Emma also burst out laughing, approaching Liam and tapping him on the shoulder. "Sure, Liam."

This weekend was going to be definitely interesting, to say the least.

They went to have lunch at the diner adjacent to the B&B. The place had a retro air that seemed consistent with the rest of the town, but at least the food was delicious, so tasty and greasy. It turned out that the diner was also run by the same old woman who had attended them in the other establishment. Liam's face of disbelief when he saw the same woman behind the restaurant counter was hilarious. This time, she —Mrs. Lucas, they learned — was much kinder to them.

Still, she subjected them to visual scrutiny from behind the counter while they placed their orders. Whatever it was that she observed, she must have been satisfied because she didn't hesitate to serve the dishes herself while offering first a speech about the town and its inhabitants, and then go on to question them in a not so subtle way about the reason that had led them there, as well as to inquire about more personal issues.

Although it might seem odd, Killian didn't feel uncomfortable with the interrogation and, if the expressions on their faces were an indication, neither of his two companions seemed to be either. It might be the atmosphere around them, or the spirit of these small towns, where everyone knew each other and looked after the others. In addition, the interrogation allowed them to finally know the real reasons for their trip to Maine. Or at least one of them.

Liam planned to carry out some remodeling at the bar, including installing a new bar counter with an even more naval look. That's why they were meeting Marco and his son, August. Following the footsteps of Mrs. Lucas, these inhabitants of Storybrooke seemed equally welcoming, immediately engaging them in an animated conversation where the trio were told part of their story. Marco was a master carpenter who worked in a small workshop located on the ground floor of his house. Despite his age, he was still active, receiving sporadic help from his son August, who was also a writer.

Killian was not sure how Liam had known about their existence, but he only needed a simple look inside the workshop to know that his brother had made the right choice. Not only because of Marco's evident skill working the wood, but also because he seemed like a really kind and considerate person.

Once they finalized the details of their request, they found that they would have the rest of the day free, so they decided to integrate with the rest of the population and discover more aspects of the quaint town and its inhabitants. And what better way than to go to that popular festival that was being held there?

The festive environment was evident with a simple glance at the streets. Killian was surprised because he hadn't noticed those details when they first entered the town a few hours earlier, but now he could see how the facades of the shops were decorated with pennants and colored garlands. Following the crowd, they arrived at a square where they had installed numerous stalls offering handicrafts and food.

Everyone seemed friendly and, except for some suspicious looks, they were treated kindly and even were encouraged to participate in the numerous activities developed at the festival's heart. It was a pleasure to see both his brother and Emma enjoy themselves in such a carefree way, without worries, without pressures, just being carried away by the rest of the people around. Liam couldn't have been more correct in getting them out of their usual routine for once.

They were even introduced to the local sheriff, Graham Humbert, a guy who, like the rest of the people around, seemed kind and welcoming. There was something about him that Killian didn't like at all, though. He didn't particularly enjoy seeing how his eyes lingered on Emma more than necessary or how the smile on his face seemed to widen every time he addressed her. An unpleasant sensation settled in his stomach as his lips drew a tight smile. Killian had to resist the urge to place one of his arms on Emma's shoulders and draw her towards him in a possessive manner.

To his relief, the encounter with the bloody sheriff was quite short since he was on duty, working to ensure the safety of the event.

"If I didn't know you so well, I'd say you were jealous." Emma's words in his ear caught him off guard. He had remained so distracted watching the sheriff walking away that he hadn't even realized that she had approached him until she almost touched him.

"Good thing you know me so well then, don't you?" he managed to reply in a careless tone as he waggled his eyebrows and his lips curled into a grin.

In response, Emma gave him a skeptical glance before turning away again in search of his brother, who had stopped at one of the stalls. After letting out a sigh and shaking his head, Killian had no choice but to follow her.

Killian woke up early the next day when the sun had just begun to appear. He was not surprised to see Liam lying beside him sleeping soundly, soft snores escaping between his partially parted lips. At some point, he might have kicked the covers away, since he laid on the mattress with nothing wrapped around him.

His eyes then turned to his other side, seeing Emma lying asleep on the cot. Unlike his brother, she was wrapped up, only her head remained exposed. Although the contraption didn't look particularly comfortable, that didn't seem to have affected her, since her relaxed features denoted that she was having a restful sleep. Killian allowed himself these moments to delight in the serenity that radiated from her as a well-known song began to play in his head.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing Watch you smile while you are sleeping While you're far away dreaming I could spend my life in this sweet surrender I could stay lost in this moment forever Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

It was as if the lyrics had been written to describe that precise moment. Of course, they weren't sharing the same bed, and they weren't even lovers, but the feeling was the same, nonetheless, at least on his part. He was grateful that he still had the music and the possibility of expressing his feelings through the lyrics. He made a mental note of including that song in his repertoire. Maybe there would come a time when he could dedicate it or another equally romantic one to her.

The need to reach out his hand to touch her, even if it was to remove a strand of hair that partially covered her face, was almost irresistible to the point that he needed all his willpower to look away and curb his creepy stalker behavior.

After one last look at her, he finally got up from the bed and walked stealthily toward the bathroom. Emma might not seem uncomfortable while she slept, but it was more than likely that she would wake up with her usual moodiness. So, taking advantage of having woken up so early, he thought that a visit to the diner was in order, at least to provide his sleeping beauty with her daily dose of caffeine.

Several hours later, the three of them were already walking through the streets of Storybrooke, this time with a new destination, the docks. The stroll was quite pleasant, not only for the good company, but for the warm temperatures and the sea breeze that caressed their faces. He definitely liked this little town, where time seemed to have stopped or at least seemed to pass more slowly, allowing them to enjoy the small pleasures of life.

Killian suspected that it wasn't a walk through a random place, but one that had a specific purpose. But Liam, showing off his usual stubbornness, had refused to reveal the mystery. "Be patient, little brother, all in due time."

Well, it seemed that the time had finally arrived. The first thing Killian's eyes fell on when they reached the docks was the magnificent vessel moored there, occupying a privileged place that made it stand out from the rest of the boats.

"Is that...?"

"Aye. An actual restored pirate ship." From his expression of ill-concealed pride, it seemed as if he owned the ship instead of being a simple tourist who had been fortunate to find out about its existence.

That didn't imply that he downplayed his merit. After all, they were here because of him. There was also no need to feed Liam's ego, though. Emma thought differently, of course.

"For real?" She looked surprised, her eyes traveling intermittently from Liam to the ship while her mouth hung open. "This is awesome."

"For real." Liam nodded his head vigorously to emphasize his words. "And what's better, they organize guided tours every weekend. That's the reason we couldn't travel here any other day."

"I wonder if they will allow us to take pictures of the interior, to get inspiration, you know." Killian couldn't help a smile of affection from spreading on his lips. Emma was so involved not only in their lives but in the business that she had ended up adopting their passion for the sea.

"There's only one way to find out. Shall we?" Liam asked as he offered Emma his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

The Jolly Roger. That was the name of the ship. It seemed obvious that this wasn't its original name but rather it was the one that its owners — or the people in charge in the town — had adopted to be in accordance with the place. Still, the name couldn't be more appropriate.

When they arrived at the pier there was already a group of five people waiting there. They didn't take long to be called and shuffled by way of the access ramp onto the main deck of the ship where they met with three other people. The smile Killian was sporting faltered a little when she saw that one of those people was none other than the bloody sheriff.

Killian clenched his jaw and resisted the temptation to take a look at Emma to check her reaction. Instead, he focused on the three guys in front of him.

"Hello everyone and welcome aboard the Jolly Roger!" Graham was the first to speak, addressing the group with an affable expression and a broad smile. "As a town representative, I would like to make a short introduction before the tour begins." Graham's eyes traveled through all attendees, probably to make sure he had their attention before continuing. Killian didn't miss that his gaze lingered a little longer on Emma than on the rest — Or maybe he was imagining things — Bloody hell! He needed to pull himself together and stop those thoughts.

"As you may have already learned thanks to my uniform, I'm not the captain of this ship, but a mere sheriff. Unfortunately our captain was indisposed." Killian heard a murmur of disappointment from the other members of the group, but Graham hastened to continue. "But that won't prevent you from enjoying this magnificent visit to a true pirate ship that is completely restored."

"Too bad. I was waiting for someone dressed as a pirate," Emma whispered at his side, ignoring Graham's explanations, a mischievous smile on her face, so Killian had no choice but to play along.

"At least the guy with the red beanie looks like a sailor. Doesn't he remind you of Mr. Smee, by the way? You know, the one from Peter Pan?" Killian muttered back, getting a quiet chuckle from Emma in response.

Then, she moved closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder and standing on tiptoe to reach his ear. "The other guy, the charming one, looks even less like a pirate."

"The charming one?"

"Yeah, the guy with blond hair. He seems more like a prince, or something."

"So he would be Prince Charming?" This time Emma's laugh was loud, causing some faces to turn in her direction.

"Shhhhh," Liam hissed, addressing them with a scowl. "Are you going to behave like two adults for once?"

"Aye, aye Captain," Killian replied mockingly and then turned his head and winked at Emma, who had her lips pressed together as if she was making an effort not to burst out laughing again.

Killian's lips drew a triumphant smile when he turned his attention back to Graham. At that moment, he couldn't care less about acting like the immature person he was if he managed to get Emma's attention and make her laugh.

"I would like to introduce you to William, who is the one with more knowledge about this ship, and my deputy, David Nolan, who has quite the experience in these type of tours since he has attended several of them. They both will be in charge of guiding you on this tour. I trust it will be to your liking. And now without further delay, I leave you with them. Duty calls." After a small bow of his head, the sheriff went to the exit ramp but not before giving Emma a final smile — this time he wasn’t imagining things. To his delight, after offering a brief smile back, she turned back to Killian, the spark of mischief still present in her gaze.

"So no Prince Charming, then. A pity."

"Not to worry, Swan. With this town, you'd never know. Maybe there is some prince out there. Or a pirate." Killian winked at her, causing a new laugh to escape between her lips; a delicious sound that he would never tire of hearing, although this time it was also accompanied by a glare from Liam.

The guided tour to the pirate ship proved to be a pretty interesting experience. The two guys knew what they were talking about, although, according to Graham, they were nothing more than substitutes for the usual guide. William, the one who looked like a sailor, was in charge of introducing them to the history of piracy, narrating numerous anecdotes and curiosities. The other guy, David — the not prince — detailed instead the aspects related to the ship itself.

There was even a small stall on the deck that served as a kind of souvenir shop, where they were able to acquire some naval-style decoration items that would allow them to redecorate The Kraken.

The trio got along well with David to the point that, once the tour was over, they extended the visit a little more, chatting animatedly on the deck with the two improvised guides while all the other tourists left the ship.

"Are you sure you've never come here? I feel like I've seen you before." David turned to Killian, his eyes narrowed as if trying to figure out why he seemed familiar.

William came forward before Killian could respond. "He looks like our Captain, don't you think?"

David's eyes widened in recognition. "That! You do look like our captain, but a much softer version."

"So you're telling me there's a guy dressed as a pirate around here who looks like Killian?" Emma asked with a funny tone and a hint of interest in her eyes. "A pity he's sick, I would have liked to see it. And compare."

Killian tilted her head in Emma's direction as he raised an eyebrow. In response, her lips curved into a smirk. He was about to drop an innuendo, but he thought better of it and instead turned to David. "And what would be his name, Captain Hook?"

"Sure, who else could be the captain of this fine vessel?" David replied with a serious expression on his face although his voice revealed a playful tone. Both Emma and Liam snorted while Killian smirked at them. No doubt this town and its inhabitants were a continuous source of entertainment.

"Can you imagine Killian and an even more cocky twin together? If it's hard to tolerate one, imagine two of them," Liam joked as he tapped him on the shoulder. For once, Killian didn't mind Liam messing with him, not when his stupid jokes made Emma laugh so carefree. That sound was like music to his ears.

After chatting a little more with the guides, they said goodbye, taking with them the promise that they would visit the town again so that Killian could meet his twin and with the recommendation that they visit The Rabbit Hole, the most popular bar in town.

At this point, none of them were surprised by the name of the bar, although Killian was curious to know what they would find. One thing was clear, both he and Emma were willing to fully enjoy the experience. It was not usual for them to visit bars other than their workplace, so the prospect of being served for once and not worrying about drinking too much alcohol was too appealing to miss. Liam did not seem so convinced to go out that night, though, claiming that they would have to get up early the next day to make the journey back home. On this occasion, Emma decided to ally with Killian so Liam had no choice but to follow them.

The first thing Killian noticed when they entered the bar was that it was quite crowded even though the festival in the streets still had plenty of people gathered outside. The décor inside the establishment kept the common retro theme seen throughout the rest of the town.

"Look, there’s a dartboard," Liam pointed out, his previous reluctance giving way to an obvious interest.

"And there is also a pool table," Emma added, gesturing to a corner of the bar, a spark of challenge in her gaze. "What do you say, Jones, are you up for me to kick your ass?"

"I'm always up, Swan."

He was about to add another suggestive comment when his gaze caught something — or rather someone — that made him harden his features. Graham, the bloody sheriff, was also at the bar. Luckily, the guy was turning his back on them, so he probably hadn't realized their presence yet.

Taking advantage of the fact that the two of them had been left alone since Liam had approached the counter to order drinks, Killian's first impulse was to grab Emma and get her away from Graham with the excuse of playing pool. He was so tempted to do it, but he immediately changed his mind. He had no right to keep off Emma from speaking to whomever she wanted, among other things because he himself was a damn coward who didn't dare to express his feelings towards her. The guy seemed interested in her. Who was he to prevent any chance of happiness for her? After taking a deep breath, he nodded almost imperceptibly and approached Emma, whispering in her ear.

"I just spotted the sheriff, Graham, in case you want to go say hello."

Emma's reaction was not as expected; it was much better, to his utter relief. She looked at him first, frowning slightly in a confused expression, then her gaze drifted to the place where Graham was and finally her eyes fixed on him again. "Nah, I'd rather beat you." Without further ado, she began to walk in the direction of the pool table, swaying her hips in a very distracting way. "Are you coming or not?" she asked, turning her head and casting him a glance too tempting to be rejected.

From there the three of them dedicated themselves to enjoying the night to the fullest.

They played pool and Killian lost all the games to the delight of both his brother and Emma. Not that he was bad, but rather that there was something hypnotic in the way Emma handled the stick. Not to mention the portion of cleavage that was exposed every time she leaned on the table.

They also played darts, with more luck on his part, although he did not enjoy his victory as he would have liked, since that was the moment when Graham decided to approach them.

"I see you are making the most of your stay in our town. I'm glad about that." Although Graham addressed the three of them, both his posture and his gaze denoted that his words were intended only for Emma.

"Yeah. We're doing some kind of research since we run a bar. Well, rather they are the owners, I just work there." Emma replied, a soft smile on her face, her gaze pausing for a moment on Graham and then traveling back to Killian and Liam.

Emma's comment was all Graham needed to turn his torso further in her direction, focusing all his attention on her. "Ah! So you work in a bar. May I ask what's your task there?"

"She is our saving angel," Liam replied before Emma even had time to open her mouth, placing an arm around her shoulders in a gesture of affection. It seemed that his brother remained oblivious to Graham's attempts to flirt.

Graham seemed to take his brother's gesture in the wrong way because his expression changed subtly, his features marked with a hint of disappointment. After continuing to chat a little more, he politely excused himself, expressing his hope to see them before they traveled back home. And suddenly, they were three again.

They continued playing and drinking maybe too much, except for Liam, who once again proved to be the most mature of them, not only in age but in behavior. But Killian liked a challenge and given Emma's competitive side, she also found it difficult to refuse a competition, even if that meant there was alcohol involved.

He wasn't aware that perhaps there was too much alcohol in his system until Liam practically had to drag them out of the bar. Emma wasn't in a better state, although she didn't seem to care, her eyes sparkled, there was a permanent smile on her face, and her cheeks had a soft blush, making her irresistible to his eyes. Both ignored the expression of reproach on Liam's face as they walked towards the B&B singing and giggling while his brother followed them a few steps behind.

It had been a while since he felt that way, with a kind of liberating energy, very different from the effect that alcohol had had on him in his darkest moments. On this occasion, a kind of fog had settled in his brain preventing him from thinking clearly. But in return he felt that his inhibitions had disappeared, pushing him to act like a teenager.

Once in their room, they continued laughing and messing with Liam who acted once more as if he were a responsible father standing before his two mischievous children, forcing them to change clothes, put on pajamas and cool off before getting into bed, despite their protests.

"You'll thank me when you wake up tomorrow with a hangover."

"You're not funny, Liam," Emma complained, her arms crossed over her chest and an adorable pout on her lips. Still, she did what she had been told and locked herself in the bathroom after grabbing her pajamas and toiletries.

Once Liam made sure that Killian also changed clothes, he turned to him again. "We should have eaten something instead of drinking so much. I've seen a vending machine in the hallway near the reception. I guess I will only find junk food, but that's better than nothing. You two are going to behave in my absence, aren't you?" he asked in a not convincing tone.

"Yes, Dad," Killian responded, trying, and failing, to maintain a serious expression.

In response, Liam shook his head, giving him one last intimidating look before grabbing the key and leaving the room. That was also the moment that Emma chose to leave the bathroom, her hair in a loose bun, no traces of makeup, an adorable expression on her face. Her eyes then turned to the large bed while a naughty spark crossed her gaze.

Killian watched in amazement as she crossed the room and practically threw herself on the large bed. She then patted the empty space beside her. "Hurry up, before Liam arrives."

He hastened to obey, although his clouded mind prevented him from processing Emma's true intentions. Even so, the prospect of sharing a bed with Emma instead of Liam was too appealing to be rejected, consequences be damned.

"Do you think if we pretend to fall asleep like that Liam would wake us up?" Emma asked while snuggling under the covers.

"Nah. I don't think so." He also got under the covers, lying on his side facing her. "He's not gonna wake you up, at least. I'm not so sure about myself, though. Maybe he kicks my ass and sends me to sleep on the floor while he takes the cot."

Emma giggled beside him, but then her features twisted as she let out a groan. "Gods! This room won't stop moving. It's like we're on the deck of a fucking ship."

"We're a little drunk, love."

"Only a little?" She snorted while poking a finger into his chest. "You're a bad influence, Jones, and—" Whatever she was going to say, it was interrupted by a loud yawn, causing him to burst out laughing hysterically as she tried unsuccessfully to kick him out of bed. In the end, she gave up and instead began to laugh too.

Once the laughter subsided, she approached him, their bodies separated by only a few inches. "I think I'm gonna try to sleep." She mused in a slurred voice and then she brought her face close to his and pressed her lips to his. It was the briefest of kisses, her touch almost imperceptible, like a feather, but with the ability to shake him whole. "Good night, Killian," she whispered against his lips before turning her back to him.

Killian remained motionless for a few seconds, feeling a pleasant tingling in his lips, while his heart pounded frantically in his chest. There was a single thought in his cloudy mind. What had just happened? Had it been real, or just a product of his imagination driven by alcohol running in his veins?

He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his mind. Giving up finally, he snuggled under the covers and closed his eyes. His last thoughts before succumbing to sleep were occupied by Emma and his attempt to commit to memory all the events that had happened on that wonderful day. None so glorious, though, as the kiss they had shared.

When Killian woke up a few hours later, he felt completely disoriented for a moment, having no idea where he was. The latent headache he started feeling did not help in the least to clear his mind, so he was tempted to close his eyes and try to sleep again.

It was then that he noticed a warm body beside him. When his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting in the room and observed a few strands of blond hair on the pillow, he gave such a start that he almost fell off the bed.

After releasing a quiet sigh, he dropped his head on the pillow again, trying to pull himself together. His mind gradually cleared up, the reminder of what happened last night coming in flashes, although he had the impression that there were still several gaps in his memory. He vaguely remembered the reason why the two of them had ended up sharing the bed, but everything else was so blurry that he felt unable to reach it.

The last image his brain registered before falling asleep again was the notion of a kiss. Killian supposed it was the memory of one of his usual dreams about Emma. The mere possibility that he might not remember the first kiss shared with Emma was so frustrating that he didn't even dare to consider it.

Present day

The muffled noises coming from the bar brought Killian back to reality. It was then that he realized that he had been locked in the office for longer than necessary. Still, he remained reluctant to get out of there and see Emma's reaction.

He felt a growing frustration taking hold of him. The recent kiss had somehow served as the trigger that had allowed him to recover the memory of a kiss that had been hidden in the form of a dream. Even so, he seemed unable to catch the details, the memory remaining more like a notion rather than a true experience, which only increased his frustration.

To make matters worse, he didn't even know what was going through Emma's mind. He wasn't sure if she had had the same feeling, if she had also completely forgotten that first kiss. By her reaction, he sensed that she had experienced something similar, which, joined with her reluctance to open her heart, had prompted her to run away.

A heavy sigh escaped between his lips as he ran his hand down his face and rubbed his chin in an attempt to control his fears and regain enough determination to face whatever it was that was about to come.

When Killian finally dared to get out of the office, his gaze inevitably traveled to Emma. She was chatting with Elsa so she didn't notice him at first. When their eyes met, he wasn't able to decipher her expression. Still, just before she looked back at Elsa, Killian detected the hint of a smile on her face. It was an almost imperceptible movement of her lips, but enough so that the flame of hope in Killian's heart began to burn strongly once more.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

What to expect in the next chapter? Christmas is coming which means a perfect setting to see how they face the consequences of their first (second) kiss.

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#cs ff #csrt #captain swan #cs au #damn you for making me love you #cs au ff #captain swan rewrite a thon #mayquita writes #my cs writings

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

Text

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 7/11

In this chapter, Emma sets off on a search for home, but is she only running? Meanwhile, Killian learns that a voyage may be in order to stop Pan’s evil schemes. I promise, this is the last chapter that Emma and Killian will be separated! I think (hopefully) your wait will have been well worth it ;) At any rate, this chapter has some really important revelations. Oh, and don’t try to make this story fit canon. Just don’t. Storybrooke really is just a normal town, and the only Once characters in it are the ones I have named. I haven’t forgotten about Snow and Charming, I promise. You just have to trust me! (I’ve said that a lot, haven’t I?)

Much thanks as always to the mods of the csrt event at @captainswanbigbang. Also thanks to @optomisticgirl and @shippingtheswann for their beta skills.

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: About 3k in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 21

Emma wedges the last cardboard box into the backseat of her Bug, and Graham grunts as he slams the trunk shut. She’s honestly surprised he managed it. For someone with no roots, she sure was able to pack this car tight. Not that it takes much in a VW Bug, but still.

“Are you sure about this?” Ruby asks as Emma shuts the door.

“Yeah,” Graham says coming around the front of the car, “Tallahassee is an awfully long way from Maine.”

Emma shrugs. “There’s farther.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “But you have a life here. Plus, if you stay, you get to be one of my bridesmaids.”

Ruby nudges Emma’s elbow, making her smile despite herself. “And I so want to wear those lovely dresses Bertie at Modern Fashions designed for you. What color was that again?”

“Salmon,” Ruby laughs, “but if you stay, I could convince her to do them in magenta instead.”

Emma chuckles too. “Now, that changes everything!”

“Now, Emma,” Graham cuts in, “it’s a long drive from here down to Florida. Pull over if you get tired, and make sure you check the oil regularly, and -”

“Would both of you stop?” Granny admonishes, shooing Ruby and Graham away so she can pull Emma in for a hug. “Don’t listen to them, sweetheart. You’re young, and you need to spread your wings.”

Emma nods against Granny’s shoulder, willing her tears not to fall. When the older woman releases her, Ruby claims a hug. When the brunette releases Emma, she clasps her by both shoulders and gives her a long, intense look.

“If you don’t find what you’re looking for, you’ll come home?”

Emma sighs. “I’m sorry, Ruby. Storybrooke’s been wonderful, but home is something I’m still searching for.”

Ruby shakes her head. “Or maybe you’re running.”

“Maybe. But when you really have a home, and you leave it, you just . . . miss it. I’m gonna keep running until I feel that.”

“Well, if you feel that for us -”

“Then I’ll be back.”

The two young women embrace again, and then Emma gets behind the wheel of the dilapidated yellow car she had saved for two months to buy in cash. Ruby’s ex, Billy, had done a ton of work on it for the cost of parts only, which had taken an additional two months in tips from the diner. Nevertheless, the Bug is now hers, and she has owned precious little in her life. She turns the key in the ignition, puts the car in gear, and waves goodbye as she pulls out of the lot in front of the inn. She watches Granny, Ruby, and Graham get smaller in her rearview mirror until she drives out of downtown Storybrooke.

There’s a stretch of countryside before she reaches the “Leaving Storybrooke” sign. For some reason, she glances in her rearview mirror again as she crosses the town line, but all she sees behind her is a long, lonely road. She sighs as she turns her gaze back out the front windshield.

She isn’t so sure the view there is any different.

Killian: Age 21

Killian picks his way gingerly through the thick foliage that runs along the ravine in the heart of Neverland. He shifts his grip on the parcels tucked beneath his right arm and swings his hook through the braken. Every time he comes to the island, the dreamshade is more prolific, daylight is shorter, and the trees drip with more lichen and moss. The scent of decay and death fill his nostrils. The fairies are right, the island is dying.

He releases a long breath of relief when he reaches the ravine and is away from the danger of the dreamshade. He ducks beneath the moss and vines covering the enchanted entryway, all of it thicker than it was on his previous visit. He taps his hook on the rock wall in the rhythm Tink had instructed, and it dissolves before him, revealing a tunnel lit with fairy magic. Finally he reaches a quaint wooden door covered in fairy runes. He touches them with his hook in the correct order, and then he hears the lock click. A greeting is on his lips, but he holds them back at the sight before him.

Wendy is in a rocker by the fireplace, singing a lullaby as she darns some of Michael’s socks. The boy himself is curled up in the bottom of the two bunks set into the wall, fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth.

She stepped away from me

And she moved through the Fair

And fondly I watched her

Move here and move there

And she went her way homeward

With one star awake

As the swans in the evening

Move over the lake

As the final line drifts over him, Wendy glances up from her mending and lets out a cry.

“Hook!”

She leaps up and races across the room, flinging herself into Killian’s arms. He lets out a grunt at the impact, barely managing to keep hold of his parcels. He glances over her shoulder and is shocked to see Michael sleeping through it all.

“What did you bring us?” she asks, eagerly taking the packages.

“Everything on your list,” he tells her proudly, “and one or two surprises.”

“Candy for Michael?” Wendy shakes her head when she sees Hook shrug. “You don’t need to spoil him.”

“And you don’t need to act like a little mother. How old are you now?”

“Thirteen,” she replies with a tilt of her chin.

Killian frowns. “You should be giggling with your friends and getting into mischief, not darning socks and worrying over how much candy your brother eats.”

“Or attempting to mother lost boys,” says a voice over Killian’s shoulder, and he turns to see Tink coming through an archway in the back wall with piles of blankets in her hands.

“Oh, the linens!” Wendy exclaims, taking the load from Tink far too eagerly. “It’s washing day,” she tells Hook.

“Don’t change the subject,” he reprimands, “what’s this about mothering lost boys?”

“Shh, Michael’s napping.”

“Wendy -”

“Ok, ok,” she huffs, dropping the bedding onto the small kitchen table, “so I sneak out sometimes into Pan’s camp -”

“Pan’s camp!” Killian exclaims, turning incredulous eyes on Tink, who just shrugs and shakes her head.

“When they’re all asleep,” Wendy clarifies, as if that makes it ok, “and I only go because the little ones cry for their mothers. I sing them back to sleep, you see, and -”

“And you could get caught by one of the older ones!”

“There’s no use talking to her, Hook,” Tink sighs, “Tiger Lily and I have already tried.”

Killian narrows his eyes at Wendy, but she avoids his look by ripping into one of the parcels he’s bought. “Lace!” she squeals. “Oh, Hook, you shouldn’t have!”

He turns bright red as she hugs him again. “Well, you said your handkerchiefs were shabby and needed lace, and the king’s navy was carrying this ridiculous gift for the crown princess from the Duke of Glowerhaven. Lord knows that woman doesn’t need any more frippery when her people are starving, so -”

“Just admit Wendy’s got you wrapped around her little finger and stop babbling,” Tink laughs.

He doesn’t even attempt to deny it. He can’t find a way to get Wendy and her brother home; the least he can do is brighten their days in some small way.

“Hook,” Tink says, lowering her voice so Wendy can’t hear, “we need to talk.”

“In my experience, I’m never in for a pleasant conversation when a woman says that.”

Tink just rolls her eyes and pulls on his arm. Wendy is too busy with her sewing basket and the new lace to notice as the fairy pulls him down the hallway and into her room.

“Why Tink,” he teases with a wink, “if you were getting lonely, you could have just said so.”

Tink scowls at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Funny, but some females are immune to your charms, pirate.”

“Not many,” he can’t help teasing with an arch of his brow. It’s true. He hasn’t lacked for willing and eager company at any port, though none of his conquests have succeeded in filling the aching hole inside him.

“I need to show you something -” she lifts a hand and rushes to add, “in my books of fairy lore.”

Tink pulls a cracked and faded tome from her bookcase. It’s so old that a puff of dust billows up as she opens it. Killian chokes as he waves his hook in the air to clear it.

“Is this about the pixie trees dying?”

“The island dying you mean,” Tink corrects, “which means Pan is dying, too. He and the island are connected.”

“We knew all this already,” Hook says, shaking his head, “and the why really doesn’t matter, in my opinion.”

“What we didn’t know was the connection between that and the little ones the shadow kept bringing to Pan.”

“Like Mason and Michael.” Killian looks over Tink’s shoulder at the book. He can’t make sense of the fairy runes, but he does recognize a sketch in the middle of the page. “Is that a flower?”

“A buttercup, specifically,” Tink answers, “and according to this prophecy there will be a special child with this mark.”

Killian rubs at his chin. “Felix said Mason didn’t have the mark, and then Michael mentioned something about it as well.” He picks up the fragile book, balancing it gingerly on his hooked forearm so loose pages won’t fall out. “What else does the book say about this child?”

“That it will be a boy with the heart of the truest believer. That his lineage will be both royal and common, magical and non-magical.”

Killian lifts his gaze from the page before him to lock it upon Tink. The pale color upon her cheeks makes his heart sink.”What are you not saying?”

Tink moistens her lips nervously. “The worst part is . . . that the heart of this child can restore life to the dying. Renew magic that has been lost. That’s why Pan is looking for this child.”

“But the child dies so that bastard can live?”

Tink nods grimly as Hook slams the book shut. Fury rises in his chest as he thinks of Mason, now nine years old, a fine pirate already, looking more and more like Milah with each passing day. He thinks of Michael, only six years old and sleeping with such easy trust in the other room. He knows from experience how cold-blooded Pan can be, but this?

“Too long have I let this demon elude me,” Killian growls, slamming his hook into the wooden desk before him. “I’ll gut him like a fish; I’ll end him once and for all.”

“But Hook, you and your crew have had how many skirmishes with the lost boys?”

Killian’s eyes flash. “You doubt me?”

“Of course not, but we have to be realistic. Pan has magic, you don’t. It’s why he always gets the -” Tink breaks off suddenly, her face turning deep red. “That is, I mean.”

“You can bloody well say it,” Killian grumbles, “he always gets the upper hand.”

Tink winces, then tentatively reaches out to him. “What it comes down to is this - it’s time you and your crew went on the offense. You have to leave Neverland, and I don’t just mean to visit your favorite ports or wreck havoc on King George’s Navy. I mean leave. Use the pegasus sail to search the realms and find -”

“You’re leaving?”

Hook and Tink whirl to see Wendy standing in the doorway holding a tea tray in her trembling hands. The sight cuts him deep. For some reason, taking care of people is Wendy’s way of coping. She deserves better. Tears well in her eyes as she gazes up at him. She thinks he’s a bloody hero for some reason

“Hook, are you leaving? For good?”

He sighs as he reaches out gently to take the tray from her hands before she drops it. “Nothing’s been decided yet, lass, but I may need to take a lengthy voyage to find someone. A boy like your brother, actually.”

“What about us?” she asks, her eyes wide now and her breaths coming fast. “You said you’d find a way to get us home.”

Killian closes his eyes, silently cursing himself. It was a promise he never should have made. Tink and Tiger Lily have searched every book of magic they own, and he has inquired of sorcerers and enchantresses at every port. They still don’t know of an antidote for the waters of Rainbow Falls.

“This can be good for you and Michael too,” Tink puts in. “Searching different realms means a myriad of magical possibilities.”

“But how long?” Wendy whispers. He and Tink can’t answer that question. In the silence, Wendy does something that takes him completely by surprise. She flings herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “I’ll miss you. Please don’t be gone too long.”

Killian lifts his good hand tentatively and awkwardly pats Wendy on the head. He looks up nervously at Tink.

“I don’t even know where to begin looking.”

“Well,” Tink says hesitantly, “all we have to go on is the words of the prophecy. He’ll be very young, like the other boys. He’ll have one royal parent and one who is a commoner. One magical parent and one non-magical. Wait, no, I read this wrong . . . “

Killian steps away from Wendy to look again at the page Tink is perusing. Not that it makes any more sense to him now than it did moments ago.

“Of both a land of magic and a land of none.” Tink murmurs.

“Like my home,” Wendy says casually.

“Wait - what?” Killian asks, his heart suddenly pounding.

“My home,” she repeats, shrugging one shoulder, “there was no magic there. That’s why Michael and I kept going to the window to see the shadow. John told us it was silly but -”

“Wait a minute,” Killian says, shaking his head and taking in a sharp breath, “I’ve been to a land with no magic, too.”

****************************************

Killian stands in front of the old familiar wardrobe for what feels like the millionth time. Not once in the last five years has it led him anywhere. Perhaps it was only waiting for this day . . .

Tink and Wendy had wanted to come with him to see it, but he feels that he has to do this alone. His fingers twitch at his right side, and he has to take several deep breaths before he reaches for the handle. He knows what this means. If he is to search Emma’s realm for the boy, he’ll have to test fate and see what happens when he lets the light that can take him back home fade. He also is unsure how he will explain this to Emma, not that anything about their friendship has ever made sense.

He closes his eyes, counts to three, then pulls on the knob just as he opens his eyes again. His breath rushes out when he sees nothing but an empty wardrobe. Swearing under his breath, he climbs inside, pounds at the inside walls, but finds them sturdy and unyielding beneath his fist.

Killian jumps back out in frustration, slamming the door of the wardrobe behind him. He stalks to his desk, shoving things aside to make room for maps and star charts. He’s heard the names of many of the realms: Wonderland, Oz, Arendelle, Camelot, Narnia. He’s even discovered star charts that can get them there with the aid of the pegasus sail. But a land without magic? There’s only one way he’s ever gotten to a land like that, and it is apparently barred from him.

No matter. Tink said the boy was of a magical land as well. He’ll simply have to start there. He breathes heavily as his gaze sweeps over the stack of maps before him. Ever since he and Liam were lads, he’s been fascinated with maps. They both were. The Brothers Jones, planning adventures across the realms.

“If you were here, Liam . . . “ he trails off, hanging his head as memories wash over him. Then he takes a deep breath and tightens his jaw. “If you were here, you would find this boy. You would be the hero.”

He taps his hook in agitation as he begins to plot a course. He’s no hero, but he’ll do this for Liam. For Milah. For Wendy.

Meanwhile, in a Land Without Magic . . .

Olivia Bridges has been a social worker for twenty five long years, and she’s seen a lot of things in her caseload. Yet she’s never seen a case like this. It should have been a slim volume of straight forward paperwork. Infants given up at birth were always immediately adopted. This one was especially ideal - the birth mother wanted a closed adoption. Those were rare these days. A successful, single woman had adopted the boy, taking him home from the hospital days after his birth.

Then she’d brought him back a month later before she’d even signed the final papers. Colic.

Olivia rolls her eyes remembering. The woman didn’t deserve to be a mother in her opinion. Not that anyone ever listened to her opinion.

Yet the boy’s file still could have ended there. Colic or no colic. But it didn’t.

Olivia pats the boy’s knee now. He is three years old and still has no home, despite his adorable mop of brown hair and large eyes like melted chocolate. The reasons have varied: colic, night terrors, seizures. None of it should have mattered.

She smiles down at him and reminds him that someone is adopting him today. He looks silently up at her, and she wonders if he’s already cynical at three. She rises, takes his hand in hers, and leads him into the next room.

A young man turns and smiles at them as they enter. An adoption by a single man as young as this one is rare, but in this child’s case, it may be the only option left. Besides, the man has gone through every government hoop necessary. He’s invested a considerable sum of money and passed physicals, psychological profiles, and home studies with flying colors. He’s also recently engaged to his boyfriend of the past year (who’s also passed every test). Honestly, Olivia’s only concern is that this one sticks.

“John Darling,” Olivia says, “meet your new son.”

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @snidgetsafan @ohmakemeahercules @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms@delirious-latenight-laughs

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs neverland au #cs canon divergence #magic wardrobe #soul mates #fate #angst #slow burn #childhood sweethearts

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victoria-daydreams · 5 years ago

Text

Skylark - Chapter Three

Chapter Two

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairings: Collins x OC

The sun was out as Alice and Jack made their way to cafe, and that always considered a minor miracle during autumn in England. Jack opened the door to the cafe, causing the bells on the door jingle announcing their presence. Jack, being the perfect gentlemen, let Alice enter first before following behind her. When Alice entered quaint café, she was instantly hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and tea along with the fragrance of baked sweets.

Alice observed her new surroundings, the walls were made of old brick that had photographs of varies locations around England. The cafe was neither small nor large and had a decent amount of customers. Only the hushed murmurs of conversation and the music playing softly in the background could be heard.

Glancing around the café the pair chose to sit by a large glass window, where streaks of sunlight entered the room and also gave them a perfect view of the streets of London. As Alice and Jack slid into their seats, a waiter came by to take their order.

"An Earl grey tea for me," he ordered, before looking at Alice.

"Black tea please," she stated, glancing at the waiter. The waiter nodded and walked away as Alice helped herself out of her coat. "Earl Grey tea, really?" she asked, scrunching her nose up in disgust.

"Hey, ye don't know what ye missing," Jack said, grinning at her.

"I think I do," she quipped, removing her glasses from her face and placing them in a purse.

She grabbed her compact mirror and opened it, noticing that the sunlight from outside was hitting her at the perfect angle. The sun gave Alice's smooth, brown skin an ethereal glow to it. Then there was her eyes, those warm brown eyes. They were like pools of honey as the rays from the sun reflected them beautifully. Alice felt two eyes boring onto her face and looked up to see Jack smiling at her.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Alice asked, feeling her face heat up at the intense stare.

Jack snapped out of his dreamy gaze, "I'm sorry, it's just that ye like night and day with your glasses," he stated, just as waiter returned.

"One cup of Earl Grey tea for you sir," the waiter announced, placing down his cup of piping hot tea. "And one cup of black tea for you ma'am," he added, the walnut tabletop clacked as he placed the second cup down from which steam emanated from the glossy piece of tableware.

"Thank you," Jack smiled, and the waiter nodded before walking away.

"So, back to me wearing glasses," Alice began, picking up a sugar cube with tongs from the canister on the table. "You think I look prettier without them don't you?" she asked, arching her brow.

Jack shook his head, "That couldn't be further from the truth," he disagreed. "I think you're beautiful glasses or no glasses," he stated, flashing her a grin.

Alice felt her face flush once more at his compliment, and she lowered her head, "You're too kind Jack," Alice said, letting out a soft laugh.

She lifted the delicate porcelain cup and brought it to her lips, letting the tea trickle down her throat in a slow stream. Alice gently place the cup back onto the walnut table ever so softly.

"Two nights ago, ye weren't wearing ye glasses," Jack pointed out, before sipping and enjoying the strong, bittersweet taste of his tea. "Why?"

"I only need them when I'm reading," she explained, unconsciously letting her finger trace around the rim of her cup. "But enough about my glasses. I feel as though you know more about me than I know about you," she joked.

Jack gently placed his hands on the tea cup, "Where to start?" Jack asked rhetorically.

"How about family?

"It's a rather small one, it's just me, my mum, and my dad," Jack answered, looking at Alice.

"No siblings, huh?" Alice asked, and he nodded his head. "I envy you a little," she continued, with a chuckle.

"No," Jack disagreed, a bright smile now on his face. "You were lucky te have someone te play with as a child," Jack laughed, making his dimples prominent.

"Two younger brothers are no fun," she argued, softly laughing. "I always got stuck with babysitting them," she pouted playfully. “Still do, in some cases,” she added, shaking her head.

"And I'm sure ye the apple of ye parents eyes because of it," Jack smiled, raising his cup to his lips.

"I bet your parents hold the same sentiment," she teased. "Do your parents live here?" she asked curiously.

"No, they're back in Scotland," Jack answered. "I lived here with my parents for most of my life, but my mum wanted te move back te Scotland te be closer te her parents. They left a few years ago, but I stayed and got a place of my own here," he explained.

"Oh no, so you're alone here," Alice said, her expression losing its regular jovialness.

"I have a few friends here, remember?" he asked, trying to reassure.

At that her eyes regained their usual spark, "And you have me," she commented, placing her hand on top of his and smiled.

"Indeed I do,"

~~~x~~~

Night had fallen as Jack and Alice made their way to her flat, walking arm in arm along almost identical brick row house on both sides of the street. Jack offered to walk her back, he didn't want Alice out walking alone in the dark. It was a gesture that Alice deeply appreciated and on that she accepted.

"Why did you join the RAF?" Alice asked, shifting closer to Jack.

"Being a pilot had always been dream for me before the war started and when the war broke out I decided to join," he explained. "There's nothing like the sound of a Spitfire," he added, a grin on his face.

"Dangerous job though,"

Jack looked over at her, "Says the woman who's studying to become a nurse," he quipped, and Alice laughed lightly.

“I have no choice,” she stated. “Mum wants me to keep applying to become a nurse no matter how many times they reject me,” Alice continued, with a chuckle. “’Singing won’t pay the bills Alice,’“ she quoted, mimicking her mother’s voice perfectly while wagging her finger.

Autumn leaves swirled about their feet with each gust of wind as they made their way to Alice's home. Another gust of wind had Alice unconsciously pulling Jack closer to her body for warmth.

"Cold are we?" Jack teased, looking down at her.

"Sorry," she laughed, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't realize what I'd done," she added sheepishly.

This time Alice felt a soft tug on her arm pulling her closer to Jack, "Don't be," he stated. "I rather liked it,"

They continued on their journey to Alice's flat until they stopped at a cream colored brick building with large white framed windows. The door was black with the number eleven in gold lettering, matching the golden handle of the door knob.

Alice unlinked her arm from his and moved towards the stone steps of her flat, "Well, this is me," Alice announced, letting out a sigh. "Thank you for today Jack, I really enjoyed myself," she said, a smile forming on her lips

Jack mirrored her smile, "I'm glad ye did, I enjoyed my time with ye as well," he told her.

Jack gently grasped her hand and raised it to his mouth, placing a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. Alice felt her cheeks grow hot while at the same time she felt giddy from his gesture.

"May I see ye again?" Jack asked, his voice soft as he slowly pulled Alice back towards him.

Alice nodded with a smile, "I would like that," she answered, taking one step closer. "Very much,"

"Does next Tuesday at five o'clock work for ye?" Jack questioned, now chest to chest with Alice. "We can meet at that cafe again,"

Alice just nodded, finding herself unable to speak due to the proximity between the two of them. Jack's mouth curled into smile and leaning forward he pressed his lips ever so softly against Alice's. She felt her eyes flutter shut as she happily returned the kiss. The kiss was short, but it was also sweet and gentle. Jack and Alice pressed their foreheads against each other as their lips pulled apart.

"Perfect," Jack whispered, smiling at the woman in front of him.

Alice moved away from him, beginning to walk backwards, "Goodnight Mr. Collins," she wished, her lips curling into a smile of her own.

"And a goodnight te ye Miss Lloyd," he wished back, flashing her a brilliant smile.

Chapter Four

#black oc #dunkirk imagine #dunkirk #dunkirk imagines #collins dunkirk #collins dunkirk imagine #jack collins imagine #jack collins dunkirk imagine #black!oc #black original character #black imagines #dunkirk fanfiction

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evitcani-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Believe the TV: Chapter 2 Draft

Okay, so as it happens, I found an ABSOLUTE jam, so I managed to get through chapter 2.

[Part 1]

Tentatively calling it, "Pretend Like Way Back When". Check out the last post for the playlist. ;p

Hope you enjoy it!

Taako glared at Kravitz’s reflection in the mirror. “You swear on your life this is temporary, right?”

“Yes,” Kravitz laughed and began brushing bright turquoise into Taako’s wet hair. “It’ll wash out when you take a shower tonight. I’ll wash it out for you if you want.”

“Mm,” Taako hummed, starting on his makeup while Kravitz worked. “Let's call it a date.”

Kravitz snorted and shook his head, smiling genuinely. “I took care of the social media side of things,” he said, finishing with the color. “You’re sick so we’re going to cuddle by the fire with orange juice as far as anyone is concerned.”

That sounds nice, Taako thought as he did his eyes. “Damn it,” he swore, missing the swipe.

“Here,” Kravitz said and took the pencil from him. He smudged at the misplaced swipe and did it perfectly on his first try.

Taako blinked at his reflection. “I thought you had a whole team to do your face. When did they teach you to do makeup?”

“They didn’t,” Kravitz said and did not extrapolate.

Rolling his eyes, Taako finished with his lipstick. He thought it was too heavy a look for a backyard wedding, but Kravitz had insisted it would be fine. Kravitz leaned in to do his own makeup. It was only then that he realized Kravitz’s hair had changed. “Hey, what’s—? Where’d you get long hair from?”

Kravitz huffed a laugh and tied it back in a messy bun. The sides were shaved. “This is my natural hair, Taako,” he told him and then started to unscrew his left hand. He set the prosthetic aside and took another one from his bag.

Taako prodded the one on the hotel vanity, strangely fascinated at how realistic it was. “I wondered this the last time, but you—Why don’t you wear this one all the time? It looks real.”

“It’s stiff,” Kravitz grunted and adjusted the robotic fingers of the prosthetic from his bag. “I only wear it for work.” Taako could hear the joints clicking as they moved, not as quiet as newer models were. He added an upgrade to his mental list of Candlenights presents.

After another flex of his fingers, Kravitz seemed satisfied with it. He stepped back and offered his hand to Taako. Taako took a moment to appreciate how different Kravitz was in beaten dark jeans, a black button up. His prosthetic hand glowed through the seams at the joints and the end of his hair was dyed to match. Even his duffel bag matched his phone case more than the person Taako had come to know.

This was going to be an entirely new experience.

Taako took Kravitz’s hand and slung his purse over his shoulder. He peeked out and made sure the hallway was clear before they made their escape. They hurried away to the elevators. Even with sunglasses and a style unlike the one he normally wore, Taako still feared recognition.

Once they were in the lobby, they easily disappeared to the taxis waiting outside. Kravitz gave the address and then turned to fuss with Taako’s hair as it dried. Taako sighed and let Kravitz do whatever he was doing. “How long’s the drive?” He asked.

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Kravitz nodded, gesturing to the open fields. “Mama lives in the country. Not far, like I said.” He paused and presented Taako with a pair of fake glasses from his bag.

Taako donned them with a flourish and tilted his head this way and that at Kravitz. “How do I look?”

“Like a wannabe groupie for a boy band,” Kravitz laughed and sat back. “It’s not a bad style,” he added at Taako’s reproachful look. He smiled as he looked Taako over. “Kind of cute.”

At least he didn’t look like Taako, which was the important part. “Well,” he said, gesturing to himself. “Greg here has an image to maintain.”

“You’re going by Greg?” Kravitz scoffed and covered his mouth. Taako recognized this as something only Kravitz did, to bite back his laughter when something delighted him. Keats was not given to laughter.

“Gregory C. Toff,” he said primly, now with the goal of making Kravitz laugh again. He’d been so free with it today. “You gotta problem with my name, handsome?”

“No, no,” Kravitz grinned, mouth still hidden behind his palm. “What, pray tell, is your occupation, Mr. Toff?”

Taako thought for a moment, finger dancing in the air as if he was about to tell Kravitz off. “Chef,” he finally said, poking Kravitz in the chest. “A chef on local access television. ‘Oh, don’t you know who I am? Gregory, you know, from TV?’” Kravitz laughed despite himself and Taako felt satisfied. He wished things could be like this all the time; like it had been when they were kids. He missed everyone they could have been back then. “Hey,” he said, not really sure what he was doing. “Remember when I asked you what your name was? In Mr. Davenport’s class right before lunch?”

“I told you that you already knew it,” Kravitz said, his expression dimming, but only from laughter to something Taako wanted to pretend was affection. “I pretended to be offended you’d forgotten.”

“It was the first time I realized you and him weren’t the same person,” Taako laughed and took out his phone. “You do such a good job at it, pretending,” he said while flipping through old pictures. “Better than the other boys.” There it was, the old picture he’d made Mr. Merle and Mr. Davenport promise to tell no one about. The two old teachers stood in the background, incriminating themselves as much as the others. Lup, Barry, Lucretia, Magnus, Julia, and on either of Taako’s arms, Keats and Kravitz. Keats—cool and collected with his perfect princely smile—and Kravitz—his face half-hidden in laughter in Taako’s hair—both an almost-perfect imitation of the other.

He shoved his phone at Kravitz. “You know, I’ve always wondered—Did you have a name before I asked?” He zoomed in on the collection of albums behind them on Mr. Davenport’s shelf. ‘Greatest Hits of Lenny Kravitz’ stood out among them.

Kravitz tapped the photo so it showed the whole picture again, all of them together and happy. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me,” Taako said and smiled down at all of those people they could have been. The screen dimmed to black and he looked up at Kravitz. “Doesn’t it matter to you?”

For one, tense moment, he thought Kravitz would pull away again, go cold and disappear under his mask. Instead, he lay his hand over Taako’s. “I’m Kravitz,” he said softly, “and you’re Greg, a chef, my plus-one. Are you a friend or—?” He met Taako’s eyes.

“Lover,” Taako laughed, letting go of the question Kravitz wasn’t ready to answer. “I don’t want anyone trying to play matchmaker with me tonight, my guy.”

“Got it,” Kravitz said and let go of Taako’s hand. His warmth lingered on Taako’s knuckles. “If anyone asks, I’m a musician.”

“You’re a, a what now?” Taako stared at him, too surprised to do more than laugh. “I’ve heard you sing, you’re—”

Terrible, awful, will crack all the champagne glasses, he thought to himself and wondered how Kravitz ever passed off that lie.

Kravitz grinned, putting one finger under Taako’s chin to close his mouth. “Just go with it,” he winked as the taxi rolled to a stop. He opened the door and pulled Taako through, his prosthetic hand cold and inviting. Once they were out, Kravitz turned to pay the driver. They stood at the end of a long, long dirt road on cracked pavement that hadn’t seen repair in at least a decade. He was glad, now, that Kravitz had insisted he wear sneakers and not heels.

Ahead of them was a little house in the middle of rolling fields of wildflowers in colors Taako had never seen. White balloons clung to the old, rusted mailbox and a thousand cars had parked in the field before the driveway. Clouds threatened to douse them all, but it was otherwise more breathtaking than he’d expected.

A little backyard wedding, Taako thought, watching the distant people milling around the front. He’d never been to something so quaint.

He was looking forward to Kravitz guiding him through it.

“Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t get moving,” Kravitz said and took his hand. “You’ll have to meet my uncle. He’d love to talk to you about magic.” Taako held out his hand and let the tips of wheat and flower brush the of his hand. He wondered how they knew not to grow where they wouldn’t hurt them. “Don’t drink the moonshine. It’ll knock you flat on your ass, T—Greg.” He looked up, watching a stray balloon escape into the only tree. It had a tire attached to its most sturdy branch. A tractor rusted against a broken shell of a barn. “Watch what you say around Angus. He’ll see straight through you. Too smart for his own good.”

Had this been where Kravitz went on vacations, on holiday? Was this what Kravitz meant when he said home?

Before he could get too distracted, a crowd of children ran at them, pulling Kravitz away in a cacophony of delighted shrieks. Taako followed along, refusing to help free Kravitz even when Kravitz cast a backwards glance of put-upon misery at him. He grinned the rest of the way down the drive. From there, he was introduced to who Taako thought might be the entire McDonald family and never caught one name.

He’s Kravitz McDonald, he thought to himself. He’d never known Kravitz’s last name.

He managed to find a spot to sit with a gaggle of aunts who asked all the questions that Taako had come to believe aunts would ask. Taako didn’t see Kravitz again until the music started. Mama Kravitz on a piano, under a tent and Kravitz with a violin beside her, playing with his left-hand.

He’s left-handed, he thought to himself.

His new friends in the aunts said, “He’s so talented, that Kravitz.”

“Luckiest man in the world,” Taako dared to say, “Like a dream.” He did not know why he said it except that it was all make-believe; like the proposal the day before.

All went quiet and their eyes turned to the backdoor of the house, to the ivy clinging to its brick and the screen door held aloft by a boy in a bowtie no older than ten.

Sloane McDonald was beautiful. She looked nothing like Kravitz and too much like him all the same. She lifted her dress as the promised rain began to pour. Under the white ruffles were tattered boots and she stepped fearlessly into the beginnings of mud. Her dress soaked the rain to blue, but the sun still shone above her in a halo. Her pin straight hair fell from its delicate bun and she laughed, shaking it and turning to two little girls trying to run under the eaves to hide from the rain. They ran out again and picked up her heavy dress, using it like an umbrella. Together, they bustled down the aisle to Sloane’s soon-to-be-wife.

Taako hadn’t caught the name of the other bride, but liked her just by the way she watched Sloane.

And all through the rain and ceremony, Kravitz and his mother played melodies so sweet that Taako’s heart ached. He remembered that Kravitz had almost missed this, almost missed playing a duet for his sister and all the people who did not need to wipe their eyes for the rain. He, too, had almost Kravitz and not needing to wipe his eyes for the rain.

When the vows had been exchanged, each guest picked up their chair and set it aside. Cousins, aunts, uncles all took out cheap plastic tables and helped rearrange the seating. The rain stopped and Taako took off his shoes like the other guests. Music was changed to a little speaker with a phone nearby.

Kravitz found him at his table of aunts.

“You should have brought him earlier,” they scolded Kravitz, “He could have helped with dinner!”

“If I would have brought him earlier, you all would have kept him busy answering your nosy questions instead of cooking,” he laughed and took Taako’s hand. Taako noticed he was barefoot, too. “I hope they weren’t too much for you to handle, love.”

“They are perfect ladies,” Taako grinned and let himself be taken to wine, to the dance floor. Both of them had been trained to dance, but they didn’t need to. Kravitz put one hand on his shoulder and Taako one arm around Kravitz. They swayed with their wine, watching the other guests. Kravitz told him from their vantage point who everyone was, pointing them out with subtle tips of his glass.

When they ran out of wine and the children had been put to bed in a big room of mattresses, they put their glasses aside and stopped letting everyone tease them about boring. Kravitz twirled him, both of them a little drunk. It started raining again and their feet were covered in mud and grass. He sang along with the song, a soft baritone Taako had never heard before, “We could pretend, like Romeo and Juliet.” His breath smelled like the wine, warm under his ear where his lips kissed Taako’s neck on each word. “We could make some noise, bother the neighbors with the headboard.”

And it was good, the best song Taako had ever heard.

Keats couldn’t sing, but Kravitz could.

It was sure doing some things to Taako he knew it shouldn’t have. “You could take my time, like I’ve been hopin’,” Taako sang, soft and unsure of himself, whispered just for Kravitz.

Kravitz led him off to the barn between knowing looks. He pressed Taako against the side and kissed him senseless, hands down the back of Taako’s jeans. It was no more than kissing, lips and mood buzzing pleasantly. Taako ran his hands through Kravitz’s soft, soft hair. “I’m not fuckin’ you in a barn,” he warned Kravitz with a laugh before going in for another greedy kiss.

“But you want to,” Kravitz said between little kisses.

“Mhm,” Taako said, no hint of shame. Singing wasn’t the only wonderful thing Kravitz could do with his tongue.

Somehow, they ended up in Kravitz’s old room. The taxis refused to come out so far, so late. They’d have to stay until morning. They were both too drunk and tired to do more than messily fit themselves into the single bed, muddy feet staining the sheets.

Taako woke up in the middle of the night, Kravitz’s hot breath against his collarbone and whispered, “Shit,” to the ceiling.

This Kravitz McDonald who could sing and still had a room in his mama’s house and a beautiful sister with a beautiful wife and a family who liked Taako because Kravitz did would be the death of him. He may have, just a little bit, have fallen in love with the heart he could feel in a steady rhythm against his side. Maybe, maybe a little, he’d always loved the arms wrapped around him. Possibly, probably, he was only just realizing he’d been waiting for Kravitz to fall in love with him first.

And he hadn’t.

Taako squeezed his eyes shut. “Idiot,” he told himself.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #fake dating au #cyborg clone monarchy revolution au #taz #The Adventure Zone #the adventure zone: balance #taz balance #writing #my writing #don't believe what's on tv

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lemonietrinket · 5 years ago

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What were you thinking? ||| Jongho x Reader

Summary: Maybe leaving you in charge of the most important part of a plan wasn’t the wisest decision. Then again, how were your friends supposed to know that you wouldn’t react well to accidentally kidnapping an idol?

Genre: Comedy, Action? A lil bit of fluff bc Christmas be comin’

Warning(s): Borderline criminal activity? PLEASE do not do what Y/N does in the story, just, there are better ways of surprising people dear lord--I repeat we DO NOT ENDORSE SASAENG BEHAVIOUR otherwise enjoy the fic

Word Count: 3451 Theme Song: Emergency - Day6

AN: Based off this prompt. This is not going to be the only time I use this song I know it. Stan Day6 my dudes, Entropy is just bop after jam after bop after jam. Please, do yourself a favour and give it a listen

~~~

It was meant to be a prank.

And an easy one at that.

You could hear the steps in your head as you drove, eyes flicking back to the monitor then back to the road.

Step One: Find your best friend. He’ll have been out at a business meeting, and will be waiting for a night bus on Fehler Street. An empty street, with an empty bus, that always ran late. No one would be there to see and demand an explanation and thus ruin the surprise. This was, by far, the easiest part.

Step Two: Slip on the blindfold and quickly yeet him in your car (gently, no matter what the others said you should do, you were not going to throw him.)

Step Three: Bring him back to your house, put him in your room until the downstairs is surely decorated and then finally...

Step Four: Surprise him with his early Christmas present by removing his blindfold to reveal his family, flown over after two years of living on the other side of the planet.

Simple really.

You spotted the road sign demanding 30 along the street and you cursed, applying the brakes a little bit too hard. A small grunt pricked your ears and you shot back an apology, before being forced to bring the car to a stop at a red light.

Your friends had encouraged you to be the one who did it. After all, he knew you best and wouldn’t freak him out as much if you were the one to apply the blindfold.

You’d had it all clear in your head. You'd calmed your nerves, but there wasn’t even many of them to begin with. What could have possibly gone wrong? You were clever and he was a calm guy, he’d see the funny side and then probably burst into tears as he saw his mother’s loving smile, after all that time of only seeing it digitally.

Heart-warming.

Easy.

God, how could you have been stupid enough to screw up on Step One?

The red haze continued to drift across the streams lacing the edges of the road, dashed methodically by the diligent attempts of windscreen wipers to chase away spatters of rain from the glass.

But the rain kept pouring. You figured it’d flood the streets at this rate. Perhaps a bonus, a mark in your favour.

Truth be told, it had been excessively dark when you’d gotten into your car to make the drive and enact the plan in the first place. Blame the winter weather, it had banished the sun for weeks.

It was pitch black when you’d reached Fehler Street, the rain lulled into a silent drizzle, speckling the windshield like glitter. The bus stop was illuminated by a dull lamppost, its bulb clearly overdue for a change by months. You’d pulled up against the pavement where the bonnet just brushed the light, keeping a close eye on the lone figure, hunched to stare at his hand.

His back had been facing you, he was the same height and wore a long, fashionable trench coat, much like your best friend always did. You questioned the beret that became apparent the closer you drew, but he always kept with times, a close eye on the fashion trends and threading his own twists in them. Perhaps berets had finally become ironic.

The issue here was, you hadn’t thought much of it, even if the signs were there. He seemed a little shorter than usual, wearing a pair of boots that seemed a lot heavier than he ever would have normally considered wearing. A broader shoulder too. And that beret.

Scarlet morphed into amber, setting you free. You accelerated round to the left, tipping your head to avoid the spotlights of an oncoming van.

Where you could you go?

Could you logistically catch a train?

A plane?

What were you thinking?

What were you even doing?

The blindfold had caught his nose slightly, and you hadn’t been able to halt an apology before it left your lips.

Luckily he didn’t fight back. You hadn’t worried about fighting then, your friend had the biceps of cooked tomatoes and a will as weak as them too.

But even as your hand enclosed around his arm and led him away and into the darkness, urging him into the backseat like a cat into a carrier, not a single thought of how your fingers no longer reached halfway round his arm crossed your mind. Of course they did now, but what use was it now? You’d been too preoccupied with the frozen figure on the opposite side of the road, trying to calculate if they were looking at you or the other way.

It was too late.

“Where are we going now?”

You swerved, a yelp stuck in the back of your throat as you straightened your lines. He hadn’t said a word since your brief exit from your car, where the porch lights had made reality seem too cutting.

“D-Do you mind?” you clamoured, making the mistake of glancing into the rear-view mirror.

Your eyes met ink, a pair of black stars, catching the passing white of the headlights that briefly unveiled their true deep brown from the shadows.

You immediately shot your eyes back onto the road. You imagined he smirked a little. Not that you really knew.

On the drive back to the house your roommate’s boyfriend offered freely as HQ, you’d said very little, and he had said nothing at all. It was a short journey, and your excitement had kept you preoccupied, away from glancing back at the man you’d ‘kidnapped’.

It wasn’t really fair to even include apostrophes. You had kidnapped someone.

Abducted. Snatched. Captured.

Mistakenly.

As you’d pulled up, you clambered excitedly out of the car and didn’t grace his face with a single glimpse, not even as you brought him up to the back door, outdoor lamp startlingly piercing, and knocked.

You didn’t look up even as you had a realisation while waiting for the door to be unlocked, “Ok, you don’t have to worry- wait, did I tell you that it’s me, Y/N?”

You only raised your head when the voice you heard was not one you recognised, as the man replied, “No, you didn’t, and I wished that made all of this make more sense.”

It couldn’t really be described as a head-raise, really. More of a snap.

The face you saw bore no resemblance to your best friend.

His nose was pointed, jawline too broad and sharp to match his proportions, cheeks shallow and lips beautifully curved but thin.

This man, that you’d seized from the streets, with no knowledge of who you were, was the complete opposite of him. His nose was much rounder, his cheeks soft, lips full, and his whole stature in possession of a much more mature aura. Lord his skin tone was several shades darker than your best friend too.

He was also much higher on the social ladder. Hell, he was actually on it.

You’d always admired that trait in your friend, actively going against the grain and commenting on the order that everyone merely followed without a second thought. It rarely made him popular however, and he was not a celebrity by all means, even if he stood out in the crowd.

This man though, was. And wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, because the crowds were too big to let him be seen at all.

Instead of your friend, you’d blindfolded and taken Jongho instead. The main vocalist of Ateez, who could sing an entire stage away. A K-pop idol, who didn’t know you, and never should have.

He gazed somewhat absently at the back of your head, your hair obscuring much of your face from his angle in his seat.

He allowed his lips to spread into a tiny smile.

God, was this hilarious. It took an immense amount of strength to not burst into utter laughter. But he knew you wouldn’t appreciate it, so kept it under wraps.

You weren’t a sasaeng. It was obvious. They all possessed a strange glint in their eyes, the kind of gleam that he imagined the Victorian archaeologists had when they were presented with a new sarcophagus. Deranged people going out of their way to steal treasure they were never destined to find.

But you, when you pulled down his blindfold and he found himself standing in front of the backdoor of a small but quaint house, and then peered down and looked you square in the eye.

It was clear there had been a mistake.

Now, why you had planned to blindfold someone in the middle of a winter’s evening and take them to that house he had no idea, but you hadn’t been rough, nor did you seem unkind, and so he’d waited.

After seeing an excitement quickly drain away from your features to be replaced with sheer terror, and after watching you interrogate yourself under your breath, leading him back to your car, urgently clambering back inside and immediately driving the two of you away...

He felt a kind of pity.

It was also evident you didn’t know where you were going, or what you were doing. You were too jumpy for that.

He lowered his voice, trying to avoid startling you again - lest it sent you off the road this time.

“Look, Y/N? It’s ok, just drive me back to the bus stop, I doubt the bus will even be there yet.”

He didn’t receive a response. All he heard was the squeak of your hands as you tightened them around the wheel.

He tried again, a laugh lilted into his voice. “Hey, I won’t even say a word about what just happened, ok? We’ll go our separate ways. Sound good?”

You considered his offer, and dearly wanted to say something, only to find your voice stuck in your throat. You resulted to a nod, though a part of you hoped he would ask something again, as if he took that as an answer, it meant he was looking at you.

“Good,” he responded, jolting your heart into an even faster beat.

As your head swam in a sea of churning thoughts, your subconscious took charge and managed to get your hands to take you back to the bus shelter.

Taking the corner, you just about managed to steady your breathing.

Until your vision was slapped with coursing red and blue.

You slammed the brakes, body lurching until your ribs dug into the wheel.

It was a single car, with two officers, one on the pavement talking to a woman, the other in the road, standing where you had previously parked.

Their heads flicked towards the origin of the screeches of tires, the woman’s hand flying up in an affirmative point.

"Ah.” Jongho muttered. “I’m sure we can-”

He never got to finish, as you kicked the reverse pedal and spun the wheel, sending the car back up the road in a frenzy. He gripped onto the shotgun seat desperately, feeling his body being shoved into the footwell by momentum.

The rear-view mirror depicted an officer running towards the vehicle, an open hand raised urgently, lips parted wide in a shout.

You didn’t stop.

Another mistake.

Tearing out of the junction, blessed with clear roads, you sped away from the city, away from the house, the plans, the friends you had.

Once he retrieved himself from the floor, eyes as wide as dinner plates, he exclaimed, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t know!” you yelled back. “What am I doing?”

“Driving away from the police?! Making them think you’ve done something wrong!”

“But I did do something wrong!”

“Wasn’t this an accident?!”

“Yes but-”

“Well then you didn’t-”

“I abducted a K-pop idol!” you insisted. “Whether it was by accident or not, I don’t think the law cares!”

He sunk back into his seat. How did he even get into this situation.

“Why did you blindfold me and drive me to that house?” he asked as gently as he could muster.

You swallowed thickly. “I... I was supposed to bring my best friend to my roommate’s boyfriend’s house for his surprise Christmas present.”

“The boyfriend’s surprise present?”

“No! No my best friend’s present.”

“A Christmas present on the 1st of December-?”

“An early Christmas present,” you added indignantly, lips pursed and eyes narrowed into a scowl, almost boring a into the glass.

“I...?” It was his turn to run out of words.

As you drove into the night, the number of other cars thinning one by one, you began to grow antsier by the second.

Jongho decided to break the silence.

“Does this mean that we’re fugitives now?”

After a few seconds of silence, as you pondered his statement, you replied gruffly, “No, only I’m a fugitive.”

You glanced into the rear view mirror, not meeting his gaze, to you fortune, but rather watching his expression fill with... disappointment?

“What am I then in this scenario?”

His eyes flicked up. You pushed yours to look away.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you paused, “hostage?”

You cautiously peered into the glass, hoping not to run into his stare there. You didn’t, instead finding him nodding, opting to look out of the window.

You managed to work up the courage to state, “You seem, really too calm about all of this.”

He didn’t look away from the window.

“Do I?”

You hummed in affirmation.

“Oh, well,” he shrugged, “I guess it’ll just look funny on my KProfile page.”

You scoffed in horror.

“And Twitter is going be quite amusing when I get back.”

There was so much wrong with what he just said. Your thoughts were entrained on just one objection to it.

“Jongho! I could go to jail!”

You heard a chuckle, and you opened your mouth to call him out, when he leant forward, leaning against the back of the other chair. He was far enough forward that you could just about see the edges of his face in the corner of your eyes.

“Relax Y/N, I wouldn’t let you go to jail. Victims get a say in the punishment for criminals here. And you’re not even a criminal. You don’t deserve a prison sentence. You didn’t do anything wrong, just messed up.”

“A lot,” you interjected.

“Well, yeah, a lot, but it was a good intention.”

“You really believe my mess of a story?” you cried. You regretted your words immediately, it made you sound like it had all been a lie.

“Should I not?” he asked lowly, almost reassuringly.

You shut your mouth, turning your head away so you didn’t have to catch a glimpse of his handsome face.

He smiled tiredly. He wasn’t sleepy, only that the adrenaline had worn off and left him a little low. Still, he wasn’t going to waste a minute. This was almost as exciting as his concerts.

“Can we have some music on?” he enquired.

“Sure.” You pressed the stereo on without thinking.

The playlist was the one you always used. It wasn’t all Ateez.

But of course the song you’d left it to start on was automatically an Ateez song.

As soon as the rousing horn of Pirate King played you wanted a sinkhole to swallow you whole.

“Oh, you’re an Atiny?”

The lilt of surprise shocked you to say the least.

He continued. “Sorry, you just don’t seem like the type.”

“I just,” you searched frantically for words, “listen to the songs sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. I-I think this playlist is the one with the most Ateez on it, though. The others don’t... they don’t have any where near as many on them. Uh, sorry.”

“So no bias then?”

You almost choked on your own saliva. “Nope. No bias at all. I actually only know you, and... what’s the other one? Min- Mongo?”

Jongho let a rise of laughter bubble from his lips. “Mongo? Yeah there’s Mongo too, I love Mongo. My favourite hyung, Mongo.”

His laughter was slightly contagious, if you were honest. However it didn’t subside the horror that twisted your heart and gripped your vocal chords.

Truth be told, you’d been a fan of Ateez since the first unveils. Jongho had always stood out to you, with his soaring vocals and softer personality. He wasn’t the one everyone else went for, but they were always the more interesting people.

You felt awful lying to him, but you weren’t sure you wanted him to know the truth either.

You heard him mumble, “I’m telling Mingi that that’s his name now. Mongo. Knowing him he’ll like it. Mongo-hyung. You know what, it’s got a little bit of a ring to it.”

You interrupted, knowing you would relive the moment before your eyes for as long as the song played, and asked, “Hey, do you mind if I skip? Not really... feeling the vibes right now.”

“Be my guest,” he answered, voice still tinged with amusement.

You felt traitorous pressing skip. Never had you skipped Pirate King before, when it came on the stereo. The only thing you pressed when it came on would be the dial to turn the volume up.

Luckily, shuffle granted you a song by Day6, which was much more harmless. Though the lyrics were apt to say the least.

“Hey, I know this one,” Jongho mentioned, “what’s it called again?”

“Emergency.”

“That’s the one.”

There was a brief silence. You knew what was coming.

“Hey that fits the situation quite-”

“Yeah I know.” You rolled your eyes.

You tried to pay closer attention to the song rather than the feeling of Jongho’s presence. You relished in the familiarity Young K’s vocals, and the satisfying harmonies of Wonpil’s voice. Hearing the siren in the distant background of the song set you on edge a little bit, but listening to Dowoon’s part forced you to crack a smile.

Until the sirens didn’t stop.

You snapped your head up, eyes reaching the wing mirror instinctively. Just as you did so, there was a flash of blue as headlights blinked aggressively, with two other cars careening round the corner you’d just passed.

“Oh sh-!”

Jongho, who quickly caught on, sat bolt upright in his seat.

“What do I-?!”

“Well you can do two things,” he asserted, “you can either pull over and that’ll be that,” he hesitated dramatically, “or you could drive like a maniac and see if you could escape, drop me off and then burn the car.”

“I- what?!”

“I’m kidding, just pull over,” Jongho sighed. “It was nice meeting you though, Y/N. Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem,” you replied out of reflex, very much confused, stress evident in your voice, as you manoeuvred your hands to steer the vehicle into a stop by the side of the road.

As the engine puttered into a stop, you felt your breath get stuck in your throat, fear trembling through your veins.

You weren’t expecting what happened after to say the least.

The officers had questioned you, but Jongho did as he promised.

You weren’t even going to go to court.

You’d never felt more relieved in your life after you heard the laughs from their mouths, as Jongho seemed to tell a tall tale of sorts, twisted to feature some of the events that had transpired.

You’d been completely zoned out, however, your thoughts whirling as your face showed nothing, reliving the conversation you and your bias had had.

It was short, and fleeting, as all these things were, but that meant it was all the harder to forget.

“Can we do this again sometime?”

“What?” you’d cried incredulously.

“Though, with less blindfolds and more talking next time?” he continued, as if you’d understood his words fully.

What he’d said was barely tangible to you, but you nodded all the same.

Before he’d gotten out of the car, you’d met eyes again. This time, you forced yourself to stare back, let yourself melt into that watchful, yet patient and welcoming gaze.

And then he was gone. Well, he was right outside your car, with the door left open so it let all the cold of the night in, but you barely noticed it swarming at your legs.

Instead, you just stared at the torn piece of paper, twitching in the cool breeze upon the seat empty beside you. The scribbled number etched across its surface seemed to drift across the lines, and blurred in your eyes as you focused too intently on it.

You’d gotten Jongho’s number? By accidentally abducting him? Why had he trusted you with it?

What was he thinking?

~~~

AN: This turned out to be way longer than expected. Who saw that coming, am I right

Masterlist

#jongho #jongho x reader #jongho reader #jongho reader insert #jongho fic #jongho reader fic #jongho x reader fic #jongho reader insert fic #jongo oneshot #jongho comedy fic #jongho ateez #ateez #ateez oneshot #ateez fanfic #ateez fic

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alice-lover-in-wonderland · 5 years ago

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Chapter One

“You’re going to be late,” my mom’s yelling from downstairs.

“I know! I know,” I shout back as I tear apart my room looking for my other shoe. Really Lili? The first day of college and you’re already a disorganized mess, I think to myself as I pick up the clothes on my bedroom floor and toss them behind me. I look at the clock on my nightstand. 7:30 A.M. Class starts at 9:15 A.M. which gives me and Joy enough time to stop at the coffee shop on the way. If I can ever find my other shoe, that is.

I go look on the floor of my closet but it’s not there. I get down and look under my bed but it’s not there either. Finally admitting defeat, I stand up. I decide to put on my ugly green flats that don’t go with my outfit at all. They actually don’t go with any outfit at all but my grandma bought them for me and who am I to tell a seventy-two old woman that they are the most hideous shoes ever made? I’m just not that kind of person.

I grab my bag off the chair next to the door to my room and check my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on it. My, once brown but recently bleached blonde, hair is all over my face. And the makeup, that I just took over an hour to do, is completely messed up. I don’t have time to fix it so I grab a wipe and take it all off. Then, I quickly run a brush through my hair and put on some lip gloss before walking out of my bedroom.

As I walk downstairs, I can smell coffee and pancakes indicating that my mom made breakfast. I walk into the kitchen and find Joy, my best friend since diapers, sitting at the table. She’s sitting across from my mom with her signature cup of coffee. She has kind of a caffeine addiction.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” my mom says standing, taking her plate to the sink.

“Hey,” I say sheepishly, “I’m sorry it took so long. I was looking everywhere for my favorite shoes.”

“Oh, you mean the light pink ones with the straps?” Joy asks taking a sip of her coffee.

“Yes, I can only find the left one. The right one just vanished from my room. I looked everywhere for it.”

“Did you look in the living room,” my mom asks pouring me a glass of orange juice.

“Thank you,” I take a drink of it. “No, why would I look in the living room? I take my shoes off in my room usually.”

“Lila was wearing them a few days ago,” Joy says. “She told me you knew and were fine with it. She had that big date with Mason and wanted to look ‘taller than a midget for once.’ Her words, not mine.”

“Well, I didn’t know anything about that. She didn’t tell me anything. Ugh! Why does she do this?” I shout walking into the living room. I walk to our couch and sure enough, there’s my right shoe right next to the fireplace. I throw my ugly flats into the box of shoes next to it and walk to my room to get the other shoe before putting them on.

When I get back downstairs, I give my mom her a hug and tell her goodbye before I walk out the front door. Joy is already waiting in the car for me. I open the car door and get in. She’s dancing and singing along to some pop song that’s playing through the car speakers from her phone. I immediately start singing along with her.

She pulls out of my driveway and turns down the street, heading for the school. I think it’s so awesome that she and I got into the same college. She’s studying to be a pharmacy technician though whereas I’m studying to be a writer. So our majors are going to be different and we probably won’t have any classes together, but we can still see each other after school and possibly in between classes. We can be away from each other. It’s not as if we’re inseparable.

Joy turns the music down. “So, do you want to stop at that cute little coffee shop you enjoy so much?” she asks me.

It’s 8:05 A.M. so we have just about an hour before classes start. “We do have some time before class. Why not?” I respond back.

“Yes! More coffee for me!” She turns the music back up and starts singing again.

I smile at her and shake my head. I really do love our friendship. I always have. We have known each other for years. We’ve been friends since forever it feels like.

We met when we were four, in daycare. My parents both worked mornings so there was no one to watch me, and since it’s against the law to leave a toddler at home, I ended up there. They would get me up at the crack of dawn and drive me to this dingy little shack, that should have probably been condemned looking at it from the outside. But on the inside, it was bright and colorful. The walls were plastered with pictures and drawings that the older kids had made and the floor was carpeted in the pattern of a rainbow puzzle. Even the ceiling was colorful, splattered with paint-covered handprints to look as if someone was fingerpainting on it.

There were toys scattered all over the floor, but everything had a place. The teddy bears were all in the same area, the legos weren’t all over the floor and the coloring station had its own spot next to the wall full of animal drawings. The building blocks were all stacked up neatly, just waiting for some kid to come knock them down. They even had a place where the big kids could make friendship bracelets. It was a kid’s dream palace.

My mom and dad walked up to the desk where an old man was sitting. He had salt and pepper hair that was starting to recede from the front of his head. He wore these small glasses that I don’t think he actually needed to see with. He had kind, aged eyes that were a sparkling gray color. And even though he was old, he looked as if he could still run a marathon, or chase down a bratty child, if he needs to.

“Hello there, what can I help you with,” he said to my parents smiling.

“We would like to enroll our daughter, Lilian, here. We both work during the day and we don’t have a babysitter,” said my mom.

He looked over the desk counter where I was standing. “Why hello, Lilian. How old are you, dear?”

I cowered behind my dad’s legs. I always was a shy child. My dad put his hand on my shoulder and I moved closer to him.

“She’s a little shy,” said my dad petting my head, “She doesn’t know many people. We just moved here. She’s four.”

“Oh, well that’s perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with being a little shy,” the old man said. “Now, why don’t we let her go play while we get her all set up here? What do you say, Lilian? Would you like to go play with the toys while I talk to mom and dad?”

I looked up at my parents and waited for their approval. They nodded and I ran to the stuffed animals. I’d been eyeing this bright purple bear ever since I saw it when we first walked in. Purple was my favorite color at the time but things have changed since I was four. I grabbed the bear and started to pretend it was my baby. That’s when I met Joy.

She was sitting on the floor playing with a Barbie doll. But she wasn’t playing like a normal kid. She was pretending that her doll was in space and the queen of the martians. I was fascinated with her from that point on. I walked over to her and picked up my own doll. I was afraid she would tell me to go away, but she didn’t. She added me to her adventure instantly.

My parents came over and told me that they were going to be heading to work. They asked me who my new friend was and I realized that I never asked her name.

“Joy,” my new friend said smiling at my parents, “My name is Joy. I’m four and I’m the Queen of the Martians!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Joy.” my mom said.

“A queen? I didn’t know we were in the presence of royalty!” my dad said laughing.

“I’m not a real queen,” Joy whispered in my dad’s ear, “It’s all pretend.” She turned to me then, “You’re dad’s really strange.”

“I know he is, but you gotta love him,” I said back to her. “I’m Lilian.”

“Lilian? That sounds like an old librarian name.”

I blush, “It’s my grandma’s name, but I don’t think she was a librarian.”

“Can I call you Lili?”

“Sure. I like that.”

“Okay,” she turned to my parents, “Can Lili and I go color?”

When my parents said of course, she took my hand and pulled me towards the coloring station. Then the rest was history. We were best friends from that point on.

“Did you hear anything I said,” Joy asks me pulling me from my flashback.

“What? No...Sorry! I was thinking about how we met,” I say apologetically.

She sighs, “I said, ‘I can’t wait for this weekend. Jay has planned this super-secret special evening and he won’t tell me anything about it.’ Do you know what he’s planning?”

“Oh, yeah. I helped him plan it. He asked me for advice and I gave it to him.”

“Lili, how could you keep this from me? I thought we were besties!” she folds her arms across her chest and pouts.

“Oh stop you. You are my bestie. Which is why I’m not ruining this surprise for you. Trust me, you’re going to thank me for not saying anything once you see it.”

“Fine, I suppose you’re right. Oh look, here comes a waiter finally!”

“You are so overdramatic sometimes. This is a busy place.”

I look around the coffee shop, it’s actually a quaint little place. The coffee bar is crowded with hipsters and soccer moms probably late for a PTA meeting. The walls are painted a pale blue color that compliments the light hardwood floor. The square tables all have marble tops and the chairs are the comfiest things I have ever sat on. The back wall is lined with a bookshelf that is stuffed with different kinds of books.

That’s where Joy and I are sitting when I see him for the first time. I don’t know his name. I just know that he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He has jet black hair that is just long enough to cover his ears, which are pierced with small black studs. His build is average and he’s quite tall. He’s wearing a waiter uniform so that means that he must work here and he’s walking over to our table.

“Hi, I’m Phoenix, are you ready to order,” he asks Joy as I try to calm my pounding heart.

“Um, yes, I would like a frozen hazelnut coffee with whipped cream and a danish,” she tells him.

“Alright,” he turns to me and I feel my face flush, “And for you?”

“Um, I-I-I,” I stutter trying to make words come out.

He looks at Joy, confused. “Is she okay?”

“She is just, really nervous,” I shoot her a glare, “It’s our first day of college and she is worried.”

I mouth, ‘Thank you’, to her.

“Ah,” he turns back to me, “Well, there’s no reason to be nervous. I’m sure everything will work out fine. Unless it doesn’t. Anyway, can I get your order now?”

“She’ll have the same thing I am,” Joy says saving me from further embarrassment.

“Okay, two frozen hazelnut coffees with whipped cream and two danishes. I’ll be right back with your order.” He turns and walks towards the coffee bar.

Not realizing that I was holding my breath, I start breathing again. “Thank you so much! I have no idea what just happened. It was like, I couldn’t think straight.” I tell Joy.

“Girl, I’ve only seen you act that way maybe two times before,” she gasps in excitement, “Ooo, do you like him?”

“What? No! I don’t even know him! How can I like someone I don’t even know?”

“Well, maybe you should get to know him,” she smiles slyly.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not going to tell him. Nope. Not happening Joy,” I shake my head vigorously at her.

“Oh, come on! You can totally just get his number. What’s the harm in making a new friend?”

“I don’t know him well enough to be his friend. I don’t even know his name.”

“Sure you do, he said it. ‘Hi, my name is Phoneix, are you ready to order?’” she says mocking him, “He literally just said that.”

Crap! He did just say that. Phoenix. That’s a pretty interesting name. Maybe I could get his number.

NO! Stop thinking that! You don’t even know him! What if he’s some psychotic maniac? You could end up on the First 48.

“Joy, I’m not asking for his number. I don’t know him. What if he’s some maniac and I end up on the First 48? How could I be your bestie if I’m dead?”

“What was it you were saying? Something about me being overdramatic?”

I roll my eyes at her, “I’m not doing it. It’s not happening. Now, let’s just get our order and then go to school and pretend this never happened.”

“Ugh, you are so not fun sometimes. I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to push you into situations that make you uncomfortable. Get you out of your safe space and ready for the real world.”

“Yes, but getting the number of some man that works in the coffee shop? Is that really getting me ready for the real world?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Phoenix bringing our coffees and danishes. “Shush. He’s coming back. Don’t say anything, please?”

She makes a zipping like gesture over her mouth. He walks up to our table and places the drinks in front of us. Then, he hands us our danishes.

“Anything else I can get you lovely women,” he asks Joy. He’s probably afraid I will freak out again if he talks to me, and I just might.

“No, I don’t think so,” Joy says looking from me to him, “but, would you like to sit here with us for a second? I’m trying to prove a point to my friend here.” She smiles at me cunningly. What is she up to now?

He looks over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “Sure, I was just about to go on my break anyway,” he pulls up a chair next to me and I get a whiff of his cologne. And it smells good. “So what is this point you are trying to make,” he waits for a name.

“Joy,” she kindly gives, she points to me, “and this is Lili.”

“Nice to meet you, Joy and Lili. So what exactly is this point?” He looks from Joy to me and his eyes linger a bit. I force myself not to stare at him.

“I was just telling Lili here, that it’s not that hard to get someone’s number,” I feel my face turn red and I glare at her.

“And I-I was j-just telling Joy, that it’s not h-hard, just awkward asking f-for someone’s number.” I manage to say, only stuttering occasionally.

He turns to face me and I almost melt. “Yeah, that is true. It can be extremely awkward trying to get someone’s phone number. But, it’s really not all that hard.”

“So, if it’s not hard, why don’t we all exchange numbers? That way it shouldn’t be awkward. We can all just put our numbers in our phones and text each other our names. So we all can get to know one another.” Joy says smiling at me.

“I’m sure, Phoenix was it? I’m sure he doesn’t want to do-” I get cut off by Phoenix.

“Actually, yeah, that sounds awesome! I never had anyone ask me to do this before. Yeah, let’s do it!”

“Great. I’ll give you my phone and you can give him yours, Lili,” Joy looks at Phoenix as she hands him her phone. “We already have each other’s numbers since we’re best friends,” she laughs.

“Right, of course,” Phoenix hands her phone back after inputting his number. He holds his hand out waiting for mine.

“Joy, shouldn’t you put your number in Phoenix’s phone?” I say, stalling.

“I will right after I get back from the bathroom. You go ahead and put your number in his first, okay Lil?” Joy gets up and walks to the restroom leaving me alone with Phoenix.

“Here you go,” he says handing me his phone.

I reach into my bag and grab mine. I give it to him and our hands graze each other. His hands are very warm and big. They kind of remind me of my dad’s hands. Comforting.

I open Phoenix’s phone and admire his wallpaper. It’s abstract and colorful. “I like your wallpaper,” I say to him.

“Hey, thanks. I like colors and shapes,” he chuckles innocently.

“That’s adorable,” I laugh, “Let me just finish putting my number in then.” I hand him back his phone. “I’m really sorry about Joy. She’s always doing the most.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. I think it’s actually kind of cool that she is so out there.”

“I like how you just met her, and you already know that she’s ‘out there’,” I smile and shake my head.

“Yeah, I’m really good at reading people’s energies. It’s a blessing and a curse. I can tell when something is off, even if I don’t know what that something is. So I will go crazy worrying about something but I don’t even know why I’m worrying. I just know that I should be worrying.”

“That sounds awful. How do you cope with that? Worrying constantly though, I get that. I feel like I’m always on edge. Even when there is nothing wrong.”

“Damn, you got anxiety? I used to but I learned how to be zen and got over it mostly.”

“I would love to learn how to be zen. I haven’t been zen a day in my life.”

“Now that sounds awful. Don’t you ever relax?” He moves closer to me and I start to shake.

“Sometimes? Maybe? No, I don’t think I know how,” I laugh nervously.

“Well, maybe I can help you relax sometime,” he smiles and looks at me with those dark brown eyes and I blush.

Before I can answer, Joy sits back down. “I’m back! What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Phoenix says standing, “But it is time for me to go back to work.”

I look at the time on my phone and it’s 8:45 A.M. “We need to get going too. It’s almost time for class.” I keep staring at Phoenix, not wanting to take my eyes off of him.

“It was wonderful, talking to you Lili and Joy,” as he starts to walk away he turns back around, “I can’t wait to get to know you better.” He looks right at me when he says it. He turns and walks back to the bar. I can’t help but smile and bite my lip.

“Okay, seriously, what did I miss?” Joy asks confused.

“Nothing,” I say grabbing my bag and linking her arm in mine, “You just pulled me out of my comfort zone and I don’t think I am going back in.” I turn her to face me. “Thank you. For everything you do for me. I think I’m going to enjoy talking to Phoenix.” I smile brightly.

“Ooo, I knew it! You do like him! See? A bestie can just tell. I want all of the screenshots from your conversation,” she says giddily.

“Fine, fine. But for now, we need to get to class. Or we’re going to be late and I don’t want to be late on the first day.” I shove her towards the door but before I walk out, I turn around to see Phoenix watching me and I smile at him.

Yep, definitely out of my comfort zone.

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inugirl · 6 years ago

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InuKag Week 7: Time

The Age of Love

Summary: Kagome worries over her ever growing age and beauty as the love of her life seems fruitful. This fic is based on the difficult design that Kagome can’t cross the well again and that she is a regular human.

She could see it in her eyes. Fine lines at the ends and under her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed but she quickly rubbed between them not wanting to promote anymore wrinkles.

Kagome sighed as she place down her handheld mirror. She looked around her hut. It was quite large, two extra rooms were added years go to hold her ever growing family. She was happy. Kagome never thought she’d be right where she is now before she met Inuyasha. Even after she had met him, destroyed the Sacred Jewel, and accepted that she fell in love with him, Kagome never thought that her life would be where it was at the very moment in time.

During her three years of high school and not being able to go down the well, Kagome wasn’t herself. She was happy to be back with her family. She was able to watch Souta grow taller than her and help him with girl troubles. She was able to study properly and pass her tests just as she would years before. She also cooked with her mother in the kitchen and help her grandfather around the shrine. Kagome should have been happy back in her regular time and she was, but she also wasn’t. Just as she had missed her friends from school while she was away, she missed her friends from the past even more. She spent months with them, traveling together and bonding as family does. As much as Kagome wanted to be back in Inuyasha’s arms, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to. Kagome avoided the topic of her ‘bad boy boyfriend’ with her present day friends as much as she could. She couldn’t bare not being able to see him and her friends were inadvertently rubbing salt in her wounded heart.

And then she felt it. The day the well, it had called to her, telling her now or never. That day she hugged her family for the last time. She kissed them and cried out of joy and sorrow. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever see them again just as her family on the other side. Her mother, the woman who was always there for her was there again. A small smile graced her face and Kagome knew it was okay. When Kagome jumped down that well and the beautiful light engulfed her, there was no turning back. Twenty-two years later, as her heart ached for her family after every child she had, never able to see their grandmother, uncle, or great grandfather, she would still not regret her decision.

Kagome tried her best to keep take of the days and months as time went by, but due to February and it’s shortened months and long months, she was sure to be off by some weeks. Also living in the rough Warring States Era didn’t help keep track of the calendar she grew up knowing. Moon phases and seasons aside, Kagome was sure if it. Today was her birthday. On this day, twenty-five years ago, she had turned fifteen years old and met Inuyasha. So today and this ‘not so technical year’, she turned forty.

Kagome quickly dressed herself, not wanting to waste anymore daytime she had since she slept in from the last nights previous work. Wearing her traditional priestess garb of a red hamaka and white hoari. and carrying her woven basket she set her destination towards her herbs in the garden behind her home. Since the season typically called for wet weather Kagome knew that the village people will be coming to her for colds and allergies pertaining to the new season.

“Oh, I also have to start planting my new herbs for the summer.” Kagome spoke to herself as she looked around her garden.

Inuyasha was already there, sweating as the sun's warm rays touched his forearms. His fire-rat haori out of sight while the sleeves to his kosode were non-traditionally tied behind him. Inuyasha’s long white hair was tied in a high ponytail to keep out of his days work as he held a shovel in both hands to dig away at the ground, ready to plant new crops for the season. Since it was springtime, the sun was able to shine its rays to warm the earth, but the wind still blew cold around them, producing a good mix of temperature.

“Good morning Inuyasha.” Kagome beamed at him, he turned around dropping his shovel.

“Good morning Kagome.” He said routinely. He quickly walked to her giving her a kiss on the lips. She kissed back, but shied away too fast for his liking.

“Why did you let me sleep in so much?” Kagome hit his chest playfully her eyes never leaving his.

Inuyasha smirked at her attempt.

“Come on Kagome, you had a sudden and late matter last night from a villager. You stayed up late making a remedy and making sure the kid’s fever went down. The least I could do was let you gain back the sleep you lost.” He heard Kagome sigh lowly and quickly give a short snort of a laugh.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?” Inuyasha smirked notoriously as he reached back down to pick up his shovel. It may have been a little over twenty years since Kagome met the man, but he could always keep that same smile.

“Besides, you should be allowed to sleep in on your birthday regardless.” His back was to her as he went back to sowing the garden, but he could still see the smile that filled her face.

“Yes, thank you.” Was all she said.

Kagome took a few steps to the left of their miniature field towards the above ground herb garden she had Inuyasha make many years ago. She started humming absentmindedly as Inuyasha continued to strike the ground. Kagome’s hums along with the surrounding birds singing filled the air around them. It was peaceful and quaint, tranquility at its finest. A little too quiet for having four children.

“Oh!” She thought suddenly, “where are the kids?” Her cheeks flushed as she wondered why she didn’t think about her own children sooner.

“Ah,” Inuyasha still worked as he spoke, his voice louder than normal so she was sure to hear him over the grinding in the dirt. “They all went to Sango and Miroku’s.” He stopped his maneuvers to turn and look at his wife. One eyebrow arched, she egged him on for more details.

Inuyasha sighed under his breath.

“Kyo and Izayoi went out with the twins to exterminate a demon in the east mountains, it’s not too far, they should be back by tomorrow morning. And the other two are out training with Shippo since he’ll be leaving again soon. I’m pretty sure they’re teaching him how to write again. They’ve been addicted to it since you started teaching them since they were little.”

Kagome laughed. “Well it’s only reasonable that our children should know how to considering I do. Scholars are few during this age of war. I wish I could have taught Shippo while he was still young.” She turned back to her garden in front of her, tending to the herbs and carefully organizing them in her basket.

“What do you mean? He’s still young. The twerp still has a lot of learning to do.” Inuyasha grinned digging his shovel back into the ground.

“Well anyways, I was hoping to see them before they left for the day.” Kagome whined slightly to herself. Disappointed even more that she slept in. The couple continued to work in silence enjoying the crisp air after two days of rain. Kagome still hummed as she picked from her many herbs, but her mind was on her children.

Her first born, Izayoi. Kagome smiled sweetly at the thought of her. She remembered after the baby was born she told Inuyasha she wanted to name her after his mother and he was in shock. It took him some days to agree to the name, but he was very happy that he did. He wasn’t just a half demon who only had a mother he could truly call family anymore. Kagome chuckled outwardly and gained the attention of her husband.

“Hey, what’s so funny Kagome?” Inuyasha teased her. He dropped his shovel again and went to her side. Always looking for ways to get out of chores.

Kagome laughed again. “Oh nothing. I was just thinking about the children. I was thinking about when I gave birth to Izayoi, I was so mad because it was incredibly hot!” She placed a dirt covered hand near her mouth as she laughed at the now fond memory. Inuyasha chuckled along with her, watching her delicately pick her herbs.

“Yeah I remember that. You were screaming so loud. Why is it so fucking hot? It’s too hot for this! Why now?” Inuyasha mimicked remembering Kagome in labor. “You were screaming so loud that I thought something was wrong and Miroku and some other village women had to hold me down from bursting into Kaede’s hut.” Inuyasha chuckled at the now funny memory. He stood next to her and held on to her shoulder. She playfully nudged him with her hip.

“You wanna try giving birth mister?” She placed her basket down in her garden and faced the half demon.

Inuyasha snickered and leaned forward so he was eye level to her. “I would rather receive a thousand sits than ever have to birth a child.” Kagome laughed at his response and pecked his lips with hers. She turned back to her garden to continue working, but her husband has other plans as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Oh Inuyasha,” Kagome sighed into him as he took her in for a tender hug, his chest to her back and his arms around her shoulders.She stopped her work yet again and held onto his forearm.“They are growing up so fast. Our youngest is already ten!” Inuyasha only chuckled lightly as he laid his chin lightly atop her head squeezing her a bit tighter.

“Yeah he is. They are all growing so fast. Even though it’s been seventeen years since Izayoi was born, I feel like it was not that long ago.” The wind around them blew cold against their faces and overcast started to fill the sky within their silent reminiscing. She heard Inuyasha sniff.

“Looks like there’s gonna be rain tonight.” Kagome nodded softly and slowly turned around to hug Inuyasha from the front. She wrapped her arms around him as he did the same to her. It was within that sincere moment that Inuyasha could smell it. Salt, it was in the air, but so feint. He pulled back a bit to look at his wife’s face.

“Kagome, are you crying?” He stared at her in confusion, wondering what he may have done...or didn’t do.

The woman in question absentmindedly shook her head and tried to go in for another hug, but Inuyasha wouldn’t allow it.

“Wait, Kagome, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“No Inuyasha you didn’t. Don’t worry about it.” She tried again for the hug wanting to ignore the ever growing tears filling her eyes.

“Don’t fuck with me Kagome. What’s wrong?” Again Inuyasha held her arms, away from his body, and looked her in her eyes. They swelled up more as she looked back at him.

Kagome dropped to her knees, forcing her husband down with her. She leaned against Inuyasha and cried.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen Inuyasha.”

“What do you mean Kagome?” He was beginning to sound frantic, uncertain of the sudden change in behavior of his wife.

“Inuyasha, don’t you see?” Kagome pulled back from him, her cheeks flushed as hot tears continued out of her eyes and down her face. “The children are growing up so fast. I’m getting old!”

“Wha? Kagome, you’re not that old! What are you talking about?” Inuyasha couldn’t help but to raise his voice at her and grip her shoulders as if to bring back her senses.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome’s voice shook with a plea as she wanted him to understand what she was trying to say without actually saying it. “Don’t you get it? I’m just a human. I’m not going to stay young looking forever. One day, I’ll look like Keade did.”

“Kagome-”

With a quick finger to his lips Kagome stopped him from continuing. She kept her finger lingering as her eyes rapidly looked at every part of his handsome face. She took a deep and shaky breath ready to say what was on her ever aging mind. “Don’t Inuyasha, let me finish.” Kagome offered, knowing what he was going to say. He lightly shook his head in agreement and Kagome took her finger from his lips. She rubbed her hands together and looked at the ground in nervousness.

“I know that you don’t care about my looks like that, as if it’s of the utmost importance. But being human isn’t just looking old because of aging. It’s dying too.” Kagome looked back at him to try and read his body language. She could see Inuyasha’s eyebrows come together, obviously displeased at the topic of her own demise.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome continued as she tried to fight off the sobs harboring her throat as she spoke. “I’m forty years old now, and however long I have left won’t ever feel long enough with you. With our children. With our friends. You’ll continue to live long after I’m gone, but I can’t stand the thought of leaving you. Of leaving our family!” Kagome heaved a cry as she reached for the comfort within Inuyasha’s arms around her, he obliged with a lovingly tight grip.

“Kagome how could you think like that?” He squeezed her as she cried onto his kosode, ignoring the musky scent of sweaty labor. Still on the floor, he adjusted his position and leaned against one of the legs of the above ground herb garden. He opened his legs to allow the mother of his children crawl into his lap, just like many times before.

“Inuyasha how could I not?” She wept onto his shoulder. “You may not think about it or notice it, but I’m the one who’s fully human. The time will come when that will happen.” She cried and squeezed his neck and shoulders, desperately trying to hide herself within him.

“Kagome.” Inuyasha paused, but continued to hold her to him and used his right hand to gently rung her back.

He took a breath and exhaled slowly.

“I’ve thought about it before.” Inuyasha started softly. “Well no, it was more like thrown to my face. Multiple times.” He could hear Kagome’s sniffling die down as he gently rubbed her back.

“I’ve thought about things like that when my mother died; when Kikyo and Kaede died, and to every damn demon or human that threatened our relationship.” Inuyasha stopped his comforting motion on her back and instead held her tightly with both arms.

“And unless I go first in some fight or whatever, I knew that I was going to lose you Kagome. I never ever liked thinking about it, but when I did, it only made me want to love you more. If I can’t share my love for you within my lifetime, I’ll just have to do it in yours.” He heard a pitched inhale of air and he squeezed her a bit tighter, lifting one hand to cradle her head and rub his fingers on her scalp.

“When my mother died, I was devastated and lost. I was angry and confused. She was my mother and I was still a kid technically. She wasn’t supposed to die.” Inuyasha paused again, his emotions getting the best of him. He needed to be strong, but he also needed Kagome to understand his feelings about the inevitable battle against time.

“Kagome, I would do anything to keep you by my side for the rest of my life, but I can’t. You are only human and as time goes on,” Inuyasha choked back his own silent sob, the words difficult to even say, “you eventually will leave me.” Inuyasha hid his face in the crook of her neck as she has did earlier. “I don’t….I don’t even wanna think about it Kagome. I hate thinking about it, but it is true and it’s unavoidable. But that’s why we have to make the most of it.” His words became soft as his eyes grew hot as pools of tears threatened to fall.

“Kagome.” He pulled her away from his frame to look at her in the eyes as he held her shoulders away from him. He stared at her and she could only stare back at his shiny pools of amber. Two tears shed from his eyes. Kagome’s face cried in response at the emotional distress she caused him.

“You were the one who taught me and showed me how to accept myself. That I don’t have to be only human or only demon, it’s okay to be both. To be me. And I’ve come to love you for who you are. I want you to be happy and death doesn’t make anyone happy.”

Inuyasha inhaled deeply and slowly released his shaky breath as he hugged her again. “Kagome, when you pass, I will be miserable. If we weren’t where we are now, I would probably hate myself again and become angry at the world for making me who I am. But look around us. We have this place that we call our home, we have four children who are going to do wonderful things with their lives because of you. And because of them, I won’t be able to hate myself. I’ll miss you terribly, and they will too; when I look at them or think of them, I’ll see you. You won’t leave me alone Kagome because you left me such wonderful gifts.” Inuyasha lightly chuckled to himself despite the situation. “Even though I’d hate to think about it, our children will leave me gifts as well.” He dropped his hands to pick up hers and squeezed them lightly, looking at them he continued.

“Our family will continue to grow far from our time, and it’s all because of you. Because you decided that I could be loved.” Inuyasha’s words hit Kagome hard as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. The white of her eyes were red and her eyebrows were forced towards one another as she struggled to hold back tears. “And if you really want to think about it, Sango and Miroku’s lives wouldn’t be where they are now if it wasn’t for you wanting to befriend everyone.” Inuyasha finished chuckling at the recollection the things that Kagome has done not only for him, but for their friends as well that has left a permanent impact within their lives.

“Inuyasha.” Kagome wiped her eyes, trying to dry up her tears and took a heavy sniff to clear her nose. “When did you become so wise?”

He chuckled as he took his thumb to wipe a fresh fallen tear from her eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s gotten older.” Inuyasha blinked back his own tears as Kagome laughed lightly and hugged him while adjusting more comfortably in his lap.

They stayed quiet, enjoying each other’s company with their chores the last thing on their mind. The silence brought new relief to Kagome as her lover’s words echoed in her head. Soon enough the emotional exhaustion took over Kagome and she fell asleep in Inuyasha’s lap, enjoying his comforting warmth. The sun that was high above them began drifting westbound to set for the day by the time Kagome had awoken from her sudden nap. She could feel continuous warmth on her chest, but a slight cool breeze on her back. As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings she concluded that she was traveling on Inuyasha’s back. His hair was still in its ponytail, but was placed over his shoulder so she wouldn’t lay on it; his fire-rat haori tucked into his hamaka as usual.

“Inuyasha? Where are we?” Kagome lazily looked around as they briskly passed by huts around the village. She noticed clouds beginning to cover the sky above them and the sun’s orange rays weakening as the day was coming to an end.

“Oh just to the monk’s place. I was sure you’d want to see the kids sometime today.” Inuyasha teased and jumped a final large leap in front of their friend’s hut. Kagome could hear slight chatter inside and see the glow of a fire around the reed door. He gently placed her back on her feet and watched her stretch herself awake.

“Oh I can’t wait to see my babies, but we can’t stay too long. I still have to make dinner.” Kagome said more to herself as a reminder. She walked towards the door with a smile on her face feeling rejuvenated after her sudden nap.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that Kagome.” Inuyasha said just as she pushed the reed door open. She looked back at him in confusion but quickly made her way inside.

Kagome could only gawk at the sight in front of her. Her friends and children spread out in the common area of Miroku and Sango’s home. Kagome smiled brightly at the scene before her. Her four children were there; Izayoi sitting between Sango’s beautiful twin girls as Shippo looked to be in the middle of telling them an exciting story. Kyo and the three youngest children sat in a circle with papers sprawled around them with writing characters written everywhere. Sango was over the fire mixing a pot of stew while Miroku assisted her. Kohaku also made a surprise visit keeping Rin company, she was petting Kirara absentmindedly as he appeared to be listening to Rin’s own stories.

Kagome’s voice was hitched in her throat as she absorbed the sight before her. “Wha, what's going on?” Cries of ‘happy birthday’ filled the room as everyone’s attention was suddenly brought to her. Kagome overwhelmed by everything looked behind her as Inuyasha gently touched her shoulder. He grinned playfully at her reaction. Kagome quickly brought her attention to the group in front of her. She smiled widely and looked at her children who were supposed to be out of the village. She swiftly made her way to her two oldest surprised to see them as the others started to surround her with overlapping declarations of ‘happy birthday Kagome’ and ‘I love you mom’.

Kagome smiled from ear to ear as she tried to hug everyone around her. “What's going on? I thought you guys left to slay a demon up the mountain?”

“Nah, that was just a little story so you don’t try to look for us while we set this up.” Izayoi smiled at her mother and motioned her arms around the room. Kagome’s eyes followed her wave of directions and finally absorbed the atmosphere of the room.

“Is this...is this some sort of party?” Kagome couldn't smile any wider than she already could as she walked to her best friend and gave her a hug.

“Well you always keep track of all of the kids birthdays and give them some sort of outing and gift. We know it was a custom of your time Kagome, so we decided to try it out for you.” Sango beamed at her dear friend and reached in for another hug. The children followed suit, Kyo making it first to his mother as the others formed a massive group hug. Shippo bounced his way in, no longer small enough to land on anyone’s shoulders, he hugged at Sango’s hips. Rin and Kohaku bounded for the ever growing hug as Kirara made herself comfortable on Kohaku’s shoulder.

“Yeah Kagome. Inuyasha said that every year you never fail to say ‘happy birthday’ during the yearly season of all your kid’s births, even though they’re already a grown up. It’s a tradition from your time.” Shippo explained happily to her.

“Yes Lady Kagome, it’s like a ‘Coming of Age’ ceremony, but for the same person every year right?.” Miroku said with a smile making his own way to his wife. “That is how you celebrated it in your time?” He asked trying to make sense of ‘happy birthday’. In all honesty, it took all of them sometime to grasp the concept of Kagome’s future tradition of ‘happy birthday’.

Kagome laughed as she felt Inuyasha brush up beside her to include himself in the ridiculous group hug. “Well not exactly, but close enough I suppose. It is just to celebrate another year that you lived, and I am so happy to be spending this day with all of you here.” Kagome embraced Sango and Kyo tighter as she smiled, small tears at the edges of her eyes dared to fall. The others followed suit and hugged one another with a squeeze of radiating love.

“I love you all so much. I couldn’t be happier in this very moment, and I can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring us. Another day with my family.”

A/N: So these are some notes I had made for myself to try and keep track of the ages for the kids. I’m not a math person, so please tell me if these are wrong based on the info I provided. InuKag, 4 kids, Izayoi-17, Kyo-15, last two are 12 and 10. I really don’t want to give them names because idk, I feel heartbroken thinking about naming their children when I’d rather see it done cannonly, haha. But I have always imagined their girl to be named after Inuyasha’s mom and I’ve always loved Kyo’s name and have been imaging that name for their child since I was little (yes, Kyo from Fruits Basket, but also from Kyo from King of Fighters lol). Kagome was 23 when she had Izayoi, 5 years after passing the well (assuming she was 18 at that time, three years after meeting Inuyasha when she was 15), so that means MirSan twins would have been 8 (assuming they were 3 at this time) when Izayoi was born and their son is 5-6 , so in this time frame the twins are 23 and the boy is 20-21. After doing the math for the ages I am shook at how old they are! I’m only a couple of years older than the twins!! Sango and Miroku are getting old too! I’m crying just thinking about it! I also decided not to name Sango’s kids since this is a one shot and idk, again I felt that naming them would make them my own characters rather than the cannon characters that they are (even though inukag kids are my characters, but I didn’t give them to much character even though I have daydreamed about them before. I felt that this wasn’t the story for it).

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dykes · 6 years ago

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|| 2 Corinthians 5:10 ||

"For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad." - 2 Corinthians 5:10

The story of how Deputy Addison Gully loses herself in the madness of it all.

fandom: far cry 5 / far cry new dawn

warnings: self-harm, implied brainwashing, mental disintegration, post-traumatic stress disorder, scarification, angst.

pairings: none but female deputy/faith seed is heavily implied/referenced.

inspired by something that @athurmorgan was speaking about irt their deputy.

also available on ao3

Gods.

She’d tried so hard she—

If she takes just too deep of a breath she can still smell them; gutted and burning alive out there. Whitehorse, Pratt, Hudson. Gods even Dutch ; this was his bunker.

She’d let them die. She’d killed them all. She did this. She did—

“Do not cry,” the singsong voice comes nearer and nearer, “You truly did the very best you could. If you had but only listened.”

“Stay away from me,” she manages to get out around the tightness in her throat, “You think you’re absolved of tragedy? You let your Brothers die for this. You let Rachel—”

“You forget who it was that pulled those triggers, snake. Rest now. Rest. Awake when you are feeling anew.”

She doesn’t miss the prick of pain in her arm or the buzz in her head.

“Fuck you,” she slurs before succumbing to sleep.

When he does finally release her from the chains on the bed she draws a line down the center of every hall and every room and throws the chalk down beside his scribbling hand.

“Stay on your fucking side and we won’t have any issues.”

“And if I do not?” he asks with vague amusement; like a parent to a child.

She hates him. She hates him. But they already have one dead body and she shudders about the possibilities for getting rid of that.

She won’t kill him. Not yet. She can’t—

“Just. Stay away from me,” she grinds out, stalking away from the communications room to one of the furthest in the bunker, pinning the door closed.

Her hands curled around her head do little to stop the ever-present hum of a hymn she can’t quite remember the words of.

Rachel— Faith— Whoever she was in the end of things; still shows up.

In dreams. In flashes of light. In the mist of tear burdened eyes.

The now ghost sits curled up beside Addison and touches gently at their hand and at their face and begs in fragmented words for forgiveness.

“I could have saved you,” she says, turning to look and soak the image of her former— something in, “I would have torn down the entire valley to save you, you know.”

“I chose my path, Adi,” the image says in soothing tones, “I chose my path.”

She huffs a laugh and slams, perhaps a little too hard, her head back against the wall, “You had your path chosen for you. You weren’t free from the moment he had his psychopathic fingers wrapped around your throat.”

“Do you wish they had been yours instead?”

Addison startles. This ghost. This figure. It’s her own imagination after all. A figment to deal with loss not yet recovered from.

“No,” she says eventually, “Not around your throat.”

“Do you see angels, Deputy?” her bunker mate asks, “Is that who you talk to late in the night? Ghosts and angels and images of the past?”

They don’t talk often. She makes very sure of that. If he enters a room she occupies she moves. And she’s far more in shape than him and can keep the game up for longer.

She’s sure it comes as a surprise when she willingly enters a room with him, clutching two barely heated meals in her hands.

It’s their first real meal together since they entered the damned prison a month before.

“I see— I don’t know what I see,” she all but whispers, scooping up the beans and shoveling them in her mouth. They’re bitter and bland and have awful texture and here she was— stuck with them forever.

He waits in silence. He waits and lets her stew and think and watches her like a hawk. He’s the predator still, even now. Or perhaps. Better put. She is more prey than ever.

“It’s all blurring together,” she admits long after their food is finished and their plates cold.

He’s gone back to reading but looks up with such languid calm movements that it would unnerving if she weren’t so— used to it.

“I see Rachel— Faith. I see Hudson and Whitehorse and Pratt. I see your Brothers. I see me. I see you.”

“It is the burden of Death to see all that she touches.”

“Do you expect me to kill you, Joseph?”

“I expect you to want to try.”

It’s not a real answer. Not really.

It still leaves a sour taste in her mouth as she throws her stained plate in his direction, “Do the washing,” she barks, leaving in a hurry with her proverbial tail tucked between her legs.

A month bleeds into two then three then four.

Faith appears more often than not. Faith now; not Rachel. Not like before, when she could pretend it was still her friend haunting her.

The others she loses in the mess of it all; first their voices go and then their eyes and then their faces. And soon all she sees is specters and horrors that keep her up at night with barely a name left on her lips.

“I don’t remember what they look like anymore,” she quietly admits, curled into the furthest corner of their shared room; lines drawn long forgotten, “I can’t— It’s like they don’t want me to see them anymore. Why would they do that?”

He doesn’t look at her with concern or empathy. He looks instead with the same curious eyes that he always had done; as if she were nothing more than an interesting play thing to him. A toy.

“It’s this place,” she continues, rocking just slightly, “It’s this fucking place. It’s the smell and the taste and the texture of the air. It’s the shadows that move. I hate this place. I hate it.”

“We will leave soon, child,” the calming voice comes, suddenly in front of her.

She doesn't know when he moved. Did he move? Did she? She rocks again. Back and forth. Eyes fluttering shut.

“Soon, child. Soon.”

There were three mirrors in the bunker when they entered.

There are none now. Just shards. Bloodied and broken. Smashed and stepped on and cut into the soles of hands and feet and chest and stomach.

Wrath. Pride. Wrath. Pride.

Carved and crossed out over and over again.

“You carve such ugly sins into yourself,” Not-Rachel speaks from her side, steadying her hand, stopping the sixth or seventh or eighth carving she’s not sure, “Such ugly sins.”

“He was right, you know?” she replies, letting the shard of glass tumble to the floor, shattering on impact, “He was right.”

“Now you see. Now you see what I saw. Go to him. Go to him and he will show you the world you denied yourself for so very long. He will show you a world you never dreamt possible.”

She hums and nods and steps in the broken shards of glass, feeling each pierce through the soles of her worn shoes and into her skin.

Faith, at least, stays and holds her bloodied hand.

God tells you, if I listen to you, it’s good and right, and I can help, and I can save people, and make it right, and everything will be okay.

If I judge as your judge, the judgement is right and just, the judgement is God’s Word.

I see now.

I am so sorry.

If only I had Faith.

Give me a mask, I am afraid, she scribbles, passing off the note to the man beside her.

He reads it once before putting it aside and reaching out, holding his face in her hands and twisting it this way and that.

“Do you believe if they cannot see you, that they will stop their haunting?” he asks, keeping her face held, “You removed your tongue to stop the talking and yet they still come; now you will remove your face?”

She taps the paper again. Insistent. A begging plea.

“Bring me wood and I will fashion you a mask and when it is done, we will emerge as Father and Judge and you will serve under God as I have and through me you will do his bidding.”

She reaches and scribbles out another note.

Thank you, Joseph.

Thank you, Father.

The mask is somehow between heavy and light; weighing like stone in her hands but a feather against her face.

It’s exterior is rough and pitted and if she runs her fingers too fast along the surface her skin catches on barbs and splinters and is left bleeding and raw.

He helps her put it on for the first time; knelt in front of him with her hands pressed up against his hips, eyes begging.

He anoints it too, dipping his own fingers in water and pressing them against the forehead.

She cries. Muted and ugly for her lack of tongue.

She cries and cries and cries; even after he has said his words and disappeared some rooms away.

Faith curling around her does little to quell the ache in her chest.

At first the sun is almost blinding; painful and all encompassing and far too hot.

She is grateful at least, that her mask blocks most of it out.

The Father takes it in stride; chest bare and shoulders flexing.

His people; her people; have awaited their return like the disciples of God and Jesus knelt around the Tomb of Jerusalem.

It’s been two years they say in wondrous adoration, falling to their knees in front of him; in front of her.

“The Prophet has risen,” they sing out in chorus, “The Father has returned to us.”

She turns and watches the image of Faith skip about at her side; white sundress fluttering about in the wind and innocent smile playing about her features.

‘Come on!’ the playful voice cries out, a hand reaching out towards her, ‘ Come play.’

She doesn’t miss the Father watching her watching the ghost. And when she turns to look at him, sees the almost imperceptible nod he gives for her to leave and return as she wishes.

After all, they’re Family now.

As much as he and Faith were. As much as she and Faith are.

So she follows, she reaches out and takes the hand of her former friend and lover; the one she had killed herself and let drown in the mighty river. She reaches out and takes the hand and allows herself the quaint feeling of peace in the wide open fields.

Thank you, Father.

#far cry #far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #fcnd spoilers #faith seed x deputy #kind of lmaom #asjdanhdjgjgk

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bambyeol · 6 years ago

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Radio FM (For me.) (final)

disclaimer : i can’t link the first part because Tumblr removes my fic from the searches if I link the first part ughsduashdihidas

pairing/s: DJ Jaehwan ! x OC

genre: angst, fluff , song-fic

summary: DJ Jaehwan composes a song for a heartbroken listener not knowing he was the one who broke her heart.

“That was the greatest show yet. People never run out of heart-fluttering stories to tell, don’t they?” Jaehwan raved, still basking in the energy he said the show gave him. Agreeing with his previous statement and acknowledging his efforts, you nod.

“Thank you, Yeonrin.” he said in such an endearing tone as you two waited for the elevator to bring you down to the ground floor.

“You can stop thanking me, Jaehwan. You know I needed you too.”

Jaehwan gave you an exaggerated look as though he was unspeakably flattered. You wanted to hit him in the head playfully but decided against it, knowing that the simple gesture will open up gates and bring back feelings which were otherwise already thrown away. But were they really? Why does your heart keep beating this fast, then?

At a nearby convenience store, you both decided to stop for a drink before walking to the subway station on the way home, a routine that the two of you naturally got into.

“So..Jaehwan. You and Gayoung.” Trying to sound as casual as you can, as though this was simply a talk over a drink with a friend, you asked him. “How did things go?”

“Still going. Can you believe it?” Jaehwan took a sip from his drink and giggled. “It’s been a full decade.”

You just smiled and listened to the rest of his stories with staged interest. Them going to the same university. Graduating together. Finding jobs as close as possible to one another and finally, what hit you the hardest, them finally moving into their own quaint apartment. “It’s small,” he says. “But it’s our own and it’s perfect.”

A perfect home for their perfect love story.

And here you were - the shattered bystander.

The past week’s episodes were filled with first love stories, fluttering proposals, touching reunions. Not a single heartbreak story ever since he started the show. You thought this was quite odd. Where in the world were the other people who had their hearts broken like you did?

And then an idea crossed your mind. One that had more of a personal motive. Your mind has been tugging at you ever since you met Jaehwan again. Was it that you wanted him to know your side of a decade-old tale? However futile the effort may be? Or was it because, seeing him again, you thought it was the sign of another chance?

None of this matters.

At least, you’ll finally have a song especially written for you. At least, it was by him.

---

“He was a high school acquaintance who had a passion for music like no other person I knew at the time. We did not know each other until senior year came along and even then, we didn’t have the most pleasant of first meetings. But eventually, I found myself admiring his talent and his determination. We talked sporadically throughout the year, bonding over his songs and music in general. Right when I thought he felt the same way about me, he confessed to a girl. With my favorite song of his.”

The office floor was dark and silent except for a desk lamp shedding its yellowish glow on the far corner of the room and the sound of you typing away inside your cubicle. As is common when you had some extra work to accomplish, you stayed back, asking Jaehwan not to wait up for you as he had to do his own preparations for the next day’s show.

You read your entry again and again, making sure it was exactly at the line between vague and excessively specific. Despite wanting to get your message to him, you weren’t exactly sure if it would be to your convenience that he knew it was from you. You simply wanted to hear from him since your connection, if it could even be called a connection, was so abruptly interrupted.

The block of text stayed in your screen for what seemed like ages as you swiveled in your office chair again and again, as if the continuous turning would help you muster the courage to click the button.

And though it felt ridiculous, feeding audience content to your own show, you clicked send and shut your laptop without second thoughts.

----

Jaehwan entered the broadcast room the following evening with his forehead creased in deep thought. Right then and there, you thought he figured you out. But when you asked him why he came in looking like he had the world on his shoulders….

“I’m just internalizing. The story today is quite...heartbreaking, for once.” So he did read it, and he actually chose it. Although, there were no signs of suspicion in his features.

Quite heartbreaking. An understatement. In your case, anyways.

You heaved a sigh, but whether it was a sigh of relief or a sigh to brace yourself for what was to come, you had no clue.

“Yeonrin, 2 minutes.” a colleague got your attention and you sat down in your chair, trying to pull your mind back to work.

“Jaehwan-ah, all set?”

“Yep.” he pulled in his chair, positioning his face directly in front of the mic.

Within the two minutes before the start of the show, he went through the mental list he had: the lyrics he wrote, the chords of the song, and the advice he wanted to give. Contrary to what you thought, that moment ten years ago did cross his mind by the time he finished reading the entry. However, he simply acknowledged the similarities between the confession and nothing else. He never considered that his own confession resulted in the heartbreak of another.

“Our story today is a bit different from the content of the past week. A love that was stopped by a sudden confession. You listeners may be wondering ‘Huh? But confessions usually start up a relationship, don’t they?’” He started, putting on a silly voice which was supposed to mimic the audience.

You almost laugh as he struggled to keep the atmosphere appropriate to today’s story. Kim Jaehwan’s antics can be really out of place.

“That’s not wrong, dear listeners. But the said confession, sadly, was not directed to our letter sender. Yes, the hidden love that blossomed in her heart was not returned. And she witnessed someone she loved confess to someone else.”

He proceeded by reading the very words you wrote the night before, and it seemed like you were back in that cramped and humid broadcasting room on that last day as he uttered your story from his own mouth.

“Before I sing for this sender tonight, let me give my two cents. It is possible that you invalidated your feelings after such confession happened. But you had every right to those feelings, being human. Do not despise yourself for hanging onto them. But now, time has passed and both of you have your own stories to write. Acceptance will come with time and distance.”

And with that, he introduced his song, started strumming his guitar, inducing a melancholic tune.

Park Ji Min - Hopeless Love

I know there’s no hope, so every time I look at you It’s so hard, because I love you so much It hurts so much when you say I’m just a friend I’m standing outside the line that I can’t ever cross

It hurts but why can’t I turn away? This hopeless love In your eyes that look at me, there aren’t any feelings that are like mine It’s such a sad thing to know your heart

He finished the song and for a few seconds there was a resounding silence inside the broadcast room, all of the employees, bosses and assistants alike, had expressions as if their own hearts were touched by the music they just heard.

Jaehwan looked up from inside the booth and you stood up and moved your chair so that your back was to him. You had no assurance that your face did not completely mirror your heart.

Soft applause finally filled the room and Jaehwan wrapped up the show with his signature closing credits as you were left to organize the thoughts running through your head while pretending to be occupied by the control buttons.

Acceptance, time, distance. You’ve got the latter two taken care of, what with you having been away from him for a decade. But acceptance.

It felt hopeless.

---

It felt like the world was mocking your plea for closure, a stab to your desperation when Jaehwan’s song for you, “the anonymous sender”, became a big hit, ranking number 1 in the most-searched on Naver and opening up petitions for a complete song.

Several agencies winded up getting interested, sending their offers to Jaehwan to be under their label to which he dutifully declined, opting to use the radio station instead as means of publishing the full version.

“Why’d you reject the offers?”

“Oh. It would be better if it would be under the radio station still. Besides, I don’t want to make money out of someone’s heartache. That song was for her alone.”

“Oh.” you remain silent, pondering on his words, heart beating rapidly uncontrollably. You tuck stray hair behind your ear, “I’m sure she agrees.”

You look up. For sure, if Jaehwan just met your eyes then, he’d know. You were willing to let it slip, to finally come undone, to lay down the secrets you kept for 10 years.

Even if it meant a rejection was on-hand.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he busily rummages in his bag until he grabs a hold of a thin white envelope. A little too fancy, with the embossed gold patterns, and the emboldened letters.

You are invited to…

“Right. I’m sorry what were you saying again?” Jaehwan faces you, the white envelope bound to be passed to your now opened palms.

You didn’t know when you unfurled your palms as if you were expecting it. You shake your head before staring at the envelope.

“No. It’s nothing…”

“I wanted to invite you,” he starts. Every word after that became heavier. It was like quicksand - the more you tried to move, the more you sunk into that feeling of helplessness.

“We’re going to get married. I mean.. I wanted us to get married first before we moved together, but being a musician was tough. But now, with my job and how the show’s a success, there’s nothing hindering us anymore.” he swung his arms animatedly, a mixture of embarrassment, joy and most of all endearment.

“Really. You always save me, Yeonrin. More than being my guardian angel. The more I think about it, you’re our guardian angel.” That was the finishing blow. Your heart was crushed completely, tears just a word away from spilling.You look down, regretting sending your story for the first time.

“That’s why, I’ll really appreciate it if you will come. You’re someone special to us. “

But I wanted to be the one special for you. You thought grimly.

“I can’t.” you reply immediately even before you could form a tactful rejection to the invitation. “Ah. I mean…” you scramble for a reply, and a stray tear falls across your cheek. You wipe it off immediately hoping Jaehwan wouldn’t have caught it, but he did and he reached for your wrist in concern.

“Yeonrin?” he asks softly. You swat him away, retreating into a fetal position and the tears didn’t stop. He bends down, rubbing your back though unsure why you suddenly bursted.

Kim Jaehwan always can’t read the atmosphere for the love of God.

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I can’t.”

“No. No. It’s totally okay. I mean, you don’t need to come if you can’t,” a flustered Jaehwan replies still missing the mark.

With one deep breath, you momentarily pause the tears on your eyes. “I can’t wish you happiness, Jaehwan.” You half-smile.

“Not back then, and definitely not now. I’ve always.” your arms folded atop her knees. “I’ve always, really, loved you.” you confess.

He freezes, “How long?” It was the only thing he could form despite the multiple questions rounding up his mind.

“Senior year.” you reply curtly, sniffling.

“Why didn’t you..” his question was left hanging, but you understood

You laugh mirthlessly, “How could I? When you beat me to it and confessed to Gayoung. I really thought that you liked me too. I guess that what we were was just confined in that broadcasting room. Similar to what we are now.”

“I sent that story.” you open up. “The one whose song became a hit, but even until now, all that I am is just a guardian angel. A person who leads you to where you wanted to be. “

His lips were pressed into a thin line. It hurt him that you endured everything, but he knew where his heart laid.

It will never be with you.

“I’m sorry.” he concludes

You nod understandingly.

“Thank you.” you bite your lips and muster up a smile. “It may have taken 10 years, but you finally sang for me.”

He nods, hands delicately removing his touch from your back until it’s beside him again.

Although many have requested for a full version of the song, Jaehwan did not sing it anymore and it was soon forgotten.

On the night of his wedding, you received an anonymous email with an mp3 file attached.

To my guardian angel...

-fin-

a/n : i will never be not sad over this fic :< my friend and I long completed this fic and I just really forgot to update it. I”M SO SORRY BUT THIS IS ALSO HARD TO READ FOR ME WITH THE HEARTBREAK. wanna one is disbanding soon also :< i’ll miss them dearly but writing for them has been such a gift. I remember typing in the middle of the night, fueled by their songs (and Day6 of course) . I wish to continue writing for them before they disband, but in the case that I won’t be able too, this mini author’s note will serve as a thank you for all the readers who read my fics. For all your support, and for all your patience as I continually break my promise of “i’ll post it soon” . Thank you for staying ;-; . Thank you for all your kind words. It’s been a great pleasure to write for you all.

#wanna one #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #kim jaehwan scenarios #kim jaehwan imagines #kim jaehwan

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etherealperrie · 6 years ago

Text

Faint of Heart

- In which reader joins Lynn on tour in Europe where the two spend the morning sightseeing, the afternoon performing, and the evening exchanging words of love in unexpected ways. Inspired by “Faint of Heart”, Tegan and Sara -

The sun is just beginning to rise, filling the hotel room with a golden haze. The room is quiet, the air stagnant – you’d forgotten to turn the air conditioning on last night and now it was stifling. You roll over onto your back, humming lightly as you bump into Lynn’s sleeping body. She lets out a groan and kicks the sheets off her legs, mumbling something under her breath. You whisper a soft ‘sorry’ into her hair, knowing how much she needed the rest after last night’s show.

You flew in to surprise her last night and when you arrived to the hotel, you collapsed into bed with her. She awoke for a brief moment then and pressed a kiss to your lips before snuggling in close to you and nodding off.

She’s exhausted, but she looks heavenly as the sunlight washes over her fair skin. You prop yourself up on your elbows and admire her, the subtle rise and fall of her chest and the way her nose twitches as she dreams. You sigh and roll out of the bed, tip-toeing to the bathroom – stopping to turn on the A/C on your way. Lynn stirs as the unit rumbles to life and tugs the sheet back up over her body as cool air starts to fill the room.

The sight of yourself in the bathroom mirror is a lot to take in – tired eyes and tangled hair – the flight hadn’t been kind to you. You brush off the thought, stripping down quickly and stepping into the shower, reveling in the feeling of hot water on your aching body. A few moments later you hear the bathroom door creak open and you wipe away the fog on the glass door to find Lynn, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Morning,” you say over the sound of running water. She looks over to you and smiles lightly, her cheeks turning red.

“Hi,” she replies turning away from you to face her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes connect with yours and you both laugh as she begins to brush her teeth. You tilt your head back and continue your pattern of wash, rinse, repeat.

This concept of domesticity – two independent yet intertwined individuals – had always been a figment of your imagination, but not anymore. Sure, things moved quickly between the two of you and sure, people might think it crazy to take time off work to fly across the country for a ‘date’ – but you didn’t care. All you care about is spending time with people you care about; and Lynn is that person.

“What should we do today?” You ask, turning the water off and wrapping yourself in a towel. As you step out of the shower, Lynn places a kiss to your wet cheek – her smile growing.

“It’s our only full day in Glasgow and we don’t have to be at the venue for…” she looks out to the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. “like five hours, so I say we do some exploring.”

---

Your morning-turned-afternoon of exploration had taken you all throughout the city, from traditional Scottish breakfast at a small café down the street from the hotel, to the city’s art museum, and now to the Necropolis, a tourist destination Lynn’s mentioned to you more than a few times.

The wind whips across the hilled landscape, pushing the thin cover of clouds across what little sun was beginning to shine. You’re cold. Freezing, actually. However, the bone-chilling wind would never be enough to pull you away from the sights before you. It’s hauntingly beautiful; the architecture, the history, the weather – it’s all so unlike anything you’d encounter back home.

“Babe, look” Lynn calls out across the field of damp grass. You look up to find her back to you, standing at the end of a gravel path – pointing out to the small city of Glasgow, quiet and quaint. You move away from the headstone you were reading, one declaring the resting spot of a young couple and their child all buried together somewhere below your feet.

As you reach the place she stands, she steps behind to wrap her arms around your waist resting her chin gently on your left shoulder. “There’s the venue,” she whispers, running her hand down your arm and lifting it to point you in the right direction. You smile, letting out a light chuckle at her actions – any excuse to get close – not that you minded. She was warm, just the layer of protection from the light mist you needed. She pulls away much too soon for your liking but she keeps her fingers laced with yours.

“You’re ready to go already?” you tease. She laughs, pressing the tip of her nose against yours lightly. You lean in and kiss her softly – you couldn’t help yourself.

It’s no longer morning and you know Lynn’s schedule is beckoning her back to work. It’s a blessing and a curse. You know the two of you would never get to experience sights like these without her touring and you love being here to witness her doing the thing she loves most; but it’s hard. The constant travelling and her being pulled away from the domesticity of a relationship to perform, to record, and to work, that is. Despite it, though, you’d never give up time pre-show with her or standing side-stage during the shows.

“Yes and no. I’d rather stay here, but at least you’ll be with me tonight.” She sighs and starts to walk down the path, pulling you along with her. You pass by headstones and tourists all taking in the cemetery grounds before them. A dog dashes between your legs taking pride in his freedom, barking into the cold wind.

Lynn’s walking with purpose but you don’t mind. Not even twenty-four hours ago you were living a mundane life; a simple nine-to-five, back home for dinner, and off to sleep to do it over again. That would never compare to this – your times off with her, no matter how unconventional they may be. --- “Alright, we’re gonna play one more – this is My House,” Lynn’s voice echoes through the theater only to be drowned out by screams from the audience as the familiar first chords play out. You can’t help but smile as the audience sing along with her, the smile on her lips wild and playful – truly happy.

The only thing that could compare to Lynn onstage is her exuberance after a show. The way she gushes about a gig is incredibly endearing to you. Although every show you attend is essentially the same, Lynn’s impassioned babble was worth it. She, Alex, and Brian rush off the stage, the audience still roaring with applause. Lynn’s knuckles brush against yours, heat radiating off her.

“Did you see the guy in the back right corner? He was fucking into it,” she says almost breathlessly. Alex nods enthusiastically as he hands his guitar off to a nameless roadie.

“Yeah, this set is getting a great response here – Scotland knows how to party,” Brian adds, laughing loudly. You don’t have anything to add to their conversation so you simply listen, admiring the way Lynn’s hair flows wildly down her back. There’s so much you want to say, but it’s not the right place.

“Babe, you ready to head back?” Lynn’s soft voice pulls you back into reality.

“Hm?” you ask, sounding aloof. She’s standing much closer to you than before, her fingers lacing through yours – her warm, light green eyes dark under the backstage lights. The feeling of her skin against yours clears your mind. “Oh, yeah” you reply, getting up from the trunk you were sitting on. You squeeze Lynn’s hand tightly and she squeezes back, chuckling lightly to herself. It was code – let’s get out of here and be alone.

“Night guys!” she yells back to Brian and Alex. You smile and wave to them before following Lynn out into the cold night. --- The day ends almost exactly the same way it began. You stand in front of the sink, wiping the day’s makeup off of your face as steam fills the bathroom fogging the mirror. Lynn hums a nameless tune to herself from the shower.

“Hey Lynn?”

Her singing stops. “Mm?”

“I love you.” The words fall from your lips without any real thought. It was the first time you’ve said them out loud. Of course you’d thought it for a while – why else would you have dropped everything back home to spend time with her here? If not for love? It’s not how you planned to say it, with Lynn in the shower and you tired and bare-faced. Silence is all that follows your words. Your heart beats so quickly in your chest, you’re afraid it might explode or stop all together.

The sound of water stops as Lynn turns the shower off. You watch as she grabs a towel and wraps it around her body, stepping out. Her hair is soaking wet, her face red from what you assume to be the hot water and steam.

“I’m sorry, it just came out… I-”

You’re unable to finish your thought before her lips are on yours, soft and wet. Her mouth moves with yours, her hands cupping your face. You’ve kissed her too many times to count, but you’re shocked by the ferocity of this kiss – it’s deep and passionate as she lets out a low groan before pulling away.

Her voice is soft and shaky, but she speaks with confidence. “I love you too. I’m glad you said it, I’ve been wanting to say it. I know it’s crazy – this, us. I know it moves quickly and I know I ask a lot of you to come out on tour with me. I kn-” You reach out and shush her with your finger. “Shh, just kiss me again.”

#faint of heart #my writings #etherealperrie #shannon muses

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