#guys. I promise this time I have actually checked the queue dates this time next weeks will be on time!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidecorating · 4 years

Text

Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift.

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :)

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding.

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do.

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it.

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request.

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door.

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well.

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake.

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :)

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-”

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far.

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way.

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist.

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?”

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him.

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,”

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders.

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,”

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing, trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud.

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come.

225 notes · View notes

yakumtsaki · 4 years

Photo

Cyneswith rolls the want to dine out with her Methuselahian boy-toy and I’m hoping we can knock this love out during this date so we never have to see him again. Naturally the road to 20 simultaneous lovers is gonna have some duds, but did we really have to start with one?? Between Cyn’s gray hair turn on and Shajar’s fitness/fatness ones the chemistry mechanic is ruining my life this generation.

Yea that’s great, CADP, here’s an even more appropriate green face: 🤢🤢🤢

-I don’t get paid enough for this shit.

Random Waiter sweetie, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry we’re romancing this old bitch in front of you, oh my god.

Mercifully CADP wastes no time falling in love with Cyneswith after this public woohoo witnessed by every townie within a 20 mile radius, and the date is a stunning success:

LMAO. Watch Cyneswith become a pillar of the community thanks to publicly banging the elderly, she truly can do no wrong. No wonder she’s the only child Jojo acknowledges.

Beyond over for Don.

Cyneswith returns home in the glowing triumph of her platinum plumbob. She literally hasn’t even made it to the front door yet-

-and CADP calls to ask her out again! Man, these drama professors are relentless, remember how half-alien prof stalked Gunther? Did this guy even go home or is he calling us right from the diner where we left him?? Whatever the case, hardest ‘Stay Here’ ever pressed, grandpa.

-But I wanna go out with him again! 🌸

Yea well we don’t have time to be systematically dating these flops, Cyn, if you wanted in depth affairs you should have rolled a different LTW.

NICE. Another fine addition to our yard of wonders! We’re still not dating you, CADP, but when we’re throwing ragers on this thing, we’ll be thinking of you with some nostalgia and a lot of disgust.

With Cyneswith platinum for the foreseeable future, I take a look at how everyone else is doing to ensure there aren’t any aspiration failures lurking. Ti-Ning and Frances are ultra-loved up and doing great-

-Angel rolls the want to get engaged to Wulf as well as the want TO INVITE OVER GUNTHER AKA HER TEENAGE FLING FROM 30 YEARS AGO, FFS ANGEL-

-and Don.. well he’s seen better days. The sad ‘go on a date’ want is killing me, I’ve considered it a given so far that he’s endgame for Cyn but they haven’t been interacting much lately, we’ll see how it goes, it might legit be over him.

The semester ends and with it Sophie’s insane 0 studying A+ streak, which is understandable since she literally almost died. Proud of Wulf and Don for bringing their grades up since they were both doing terribly, Don especially was flirting with academic probation last semester. I guess once your gf is no longer distracting you because she’s too busy cheating on you, you start hitting the books.

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life.. and Sophie autonomously goes to gossip with Shajar!!! I was so shocked I unironically took a screenshot of the little action queue window, but whatever, it’s a big deal!

-Hey Shajar, you know who’s an even bigger turbocuck than you?? Ti-Ning! God I can’t stand that loser.

-Haha couldn’t agree more, Sophie! 🖤 Not like I’d agree with anything you say, I have my own personality and opinions and everything!! Why are we talking about him like he’s not right here? I’m not questioning you, just curious! 🖤

-It’s my new bullying tactic!

-It’s great!

-Congratulations on your ever-evolving bullying techniques, Sophie! 🖤

-Congratulations on idolizing me! Maybe you’re only a cuck and not a turbocuck after all.

AAAAAAA THEY’RE PLAYING RED HANDS OMG OMG IS THIS FINALLY GONNA HAPPEN????

-Haha great punch, Sophie! I actually felt the nerve damage as it happened!

-Thanks, ever since my post-workout coma I’m stronger than ever!

OMG THEY FINALLY BECAME FRIENDS. Bro I still cannot believe Cyneswith not only befriended Sophie first but is LITERALLY BFFS WITH HER. UN.REAL. ANYWAY there’s only so much blue balling I can take from these two, it’s time to find out if there’s something there once and for all. But first, we need a slight adjustment so let’s head to the nearest mirror..

-OH BROTHER.

In the name of love, Shaj, come on!

-So, Sophie.. As I’m sure you can see, I’m blonde now. And I had to sign a contract promising I won’t sue for how terrible it makes me look, so I’m legally blonde. Now that that’s out of the way..

-..it’s Ti-Ning trashing time!

GODDAMMIT SHAJAR NO. NO MORE TI-NING TRASHING, NO MORE USELESS PLATONIC INTERACTIONS, IT’S GO TIME. Check her out, and let the chips fall where they may!!!

F I N A L L Y I L N L A A L N L I Y L L A N I F

OK. SO NOW WE KNOW. What you do from now on is up to you, first and last time I’m intervening but these two were driving me insane.

-And so after careful consideration, it became clear that blonde is truly my color!

-Are you sure, Shaj? Because when I saw you upstairs you were sobbing and doing vomiting motions in front of the mirror.

-Aw Angel, that’s not a very nice thing to say! Don’t worry sis, I love your new look! In fact, I’m so proud of the way you look I want you right there next to me when I meet potential lovers! 💗

NOW THAT’S WHAT I LIKE TO SEE. I mean I wish I wasn’t seeing Shajar’s terrible blonde hair but Sophie’s blondeness turn on forced my hand. But the rest of this pic is what I like to see!

Despite recent developments, Sophie remains elusive af but I’m not butting in anymore, I’m returning to my go with the flow playstyle. So Sophie once again leaves us dick in hand and goes inside to.. you guessed it, socialize with Cyneswith. Shajar follows suit.. and..

....

................

.....................................

SHAJAR. YOU FINALLY STEPPED UP. I guess there’s only so much cucking from Cyneswith one person can take!!! If Sophie rejects this I’m literally gonna die-

-HELL YES OMG FINALLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

CYNESWITH ARE YOU KIDDING ME. BRO. LITERALLY THE BIGGEST COCKBLOCK TO EVER LIVE

And Shajar is now in love with Sophie, whereas Sophie isn’t even best friends with her yet, oh Shaj.. Well whatever, you’ll get there (I hope). ACR gets right down to business, let’s ignore Sophie thinking of Cyneswith, istg..

Boy, that escalated quickly. I mean we literally went from first kiss ever to woohoo with 0 other interactions in between but after all those years of incelitude who can blame Shajar.

And it’s official!!! ❤️ I’ve been convinced these two belong together ever since they were teens but I was also convinced Gunther belonged with Melody/Daniel belonged with Brittany/Jojo belonged with Frances and we remember how all 3 of those went so only time will tell.

In the meantime let’s marvel at how uneven this burgeoning relationship is thanks to Shajar unilaterally obsessing over Sophie for half her teenhood. But she finally got her! An inspirational tale about never giving up on your dreams even when your dreams prefer your sister.

#gen 2 #ts2

60 notes · View notes

kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eight: Don’t Worry Baby

a/n: hello hello!!! a massive apology for this one being so late it’s been such a hectic week for me, so I really appreciate your patience <3 Thank you for sticking around and for the continued love and support you have shown to this story. It really means the world to me :’) I hope you enjoy this chapter, feel free to chat with me afterwards, I’m intrigued to see where y’all think this story is going now👀 there is certainly much 2 think about... Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven

The faint clanging of pots and pans, Freddie barking, and Pua’s laughter rouses Alani from her peaceful sleep. She sees nothing but pink as her eyes peel open and momentarily thinks that she’s gone blind, but her vision soon focuses on the vague outline of black ink. With a curious dent between her brows, she removes the sticky note pressed to her forehead and turns it over.

GOOD MORNING!

MAKING BREAKFAST DOWNSTAIRS. SEE YOU THERE :)

♡ H

Her mouth, still puffy with the touch of sleep, curls at the edges as she clutches the note to her chest. One hand slides over to the indentation left in her bed by Harry and it’s still warm, which means that he must not have been gone long. Alani climbs out of the covers and races to the top of the stairs where she can hear him and her sister having a playful exchange.

“I don’t think you put enough chocolate chips,”

“What do you mean? It’s about 90% chocolate right now,”

“So make it 100%,”

As she creeps down the stairs, she spots Pua perched on a swiveling chair at the kitchen island, Freddie snoozing in her lap, while Harry meticulously sprinkles chocolate chips into a bowl of pancake batter next to the stove. The scene makes Alani’s heart swell, so she silently observes for a moment before interrupting.

“Is this more to your liking, Your Majesty?”

“Much better. Even Freddie thinks so,”

“I thought dogs couldn’t have chocolate,”

“Must you question everything I say?”

“I think he’s right,” Alani confirms, stepping into the kitchen to tussle her sister’s hair and pet Freddie. Harry lights up at the sound of her voice and immediately sticks his cheek out for a kiss. She gives him a peck and accepts the chocolate chip that he holds to her lips, letting him have a taste as it dissolves on their tongues.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Pua grimaces.

The pair separate and Alani pokes her tongue out at her younger sister, making Harry chuckle beside her.

“Hey, no fighting,” he warns. “Or no one gets pancakes.”

“She started it!” both sisters defend in unison.

They share a laugh and dissolve into their own antics while Harry returns to the stove with a cheerful whistle. He methodically shapes the pancakes into hearts on the skillet, playfully swatting Alani’s hand away from the bag of chocolate every five minutes or so. Freddie waits patiently at Harry’s ankles during the entire cooking process, praying that the human will drop a scrap of food his way.

“Sorry, Mr. Mercury,” Harry apologizes, reaching down to give the dog a gentle pat. “These aren’t for you. Take it up with Mother Nature,”

Alani fills Freddie’s bowl to relieve Harry of his dog-sitting duties before hopping up onto the counter beside him. He slots himself between her legs, flashing a cheesy grin that makes her giggle, and her fingertips trace over the faint shadow of stubble around his jawline and above his lip.

“Can you grow a beard?”

“Do you want me to?”

Alani shrugs, considering the idea. “I was just wondering if you were capable,”

“Hey,” he pouts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiles innocently, pinching his chin. “Nothing, I like the fresh face. But stubble’s kinda hot,”

“Noted,” Harry winks.

“I like spending my mornings with you,” Alani admits quietly. “And the whole chef thing you’ve got going on is definitely a perk,”

Harry’s dimple resurfaces and his emerald eyes gleam. “Me too, sweets. Did you like the note I left you?”

“Yes, it was a very nice touch,” Alani confesses, heart still soaring over the sentiment.

“Didn’t wanna wake you. Looked so peaceful drooling, hair all in your face—”

“—Hey!”

“Did you know that you kinda talk a little in your sleep?”

“I do not!”

Harry kisses the wrinkle in the middle of her forehead and it eases. “Do too. It’s cute, though.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Alani grumbles with a small, affectionate smile. “Let’s eat.”

Both Pua and Alani compliment Harry on the restaurant quality of his heart-shaped pancakes, and he accepts the praise with a bow that makes them both giggle. The three of them gather happily around the dining table, sharing jokes and analyses of each other’s dreams from the night before. Of particular interest is Pua’s dream about her teeth being replaced by kernels of candy corn, which Harry explains is a warning to cut down on the sugar before bed.

“You’re no fun,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Only had a pint of ice cream last night,”

Harry snickers. “As opposed to?”

“Alani, can you date a dairy farmer next time?”

“Hey!”

Alani rolls her eyes, but her smile reveals her true amusement. “Be nice,”

“Thought I was your ‘favorite singer,’” Harry sulks.

Pua’s eyes dart to her older sister. “You told him?!”

“What?” Alani asks innocently. “It was sweet,”

Harry’s brow furrows. “Why wasn’t I supposed to know that?”

“Cause you’ll get a big head,”

“Too late. I won your sister over, even though she’s way out of my league,”

“And don’t you forget it.” Pua cautions with a friendly tussle of his hair before standing with her empty plate.

Harry chuckles lightly. “I thought we were friends,”

“Sisters before misters,” Alani shrugs, grabbing his plate and utensils to put in a pile with her own. “So whatcha doin’ today?”

“Good question,” he ponders, tapping his chin. “Get dressed, we’re going out,”

“Where to?”

“It’s a surprise,”

“I don’t like surprises,”

“Tough,” Harry maintains. “And you’re a liar cos everyone likes good surprises,”

Alani traces a heart onto the back of his hand with her fingertip and sighs. “But I need to know what to dress for,”

“Dress for the perfect afternoon with your favorite guy,”

“James Marsden’s coming?”

Harry purses his lips and stands. “Alright, I’m leaving now,”

“I’m kidding!” Alani giggles, offering an apologetic kiss. “I’m sorry, sunshine. Please don’t go,”

“I wasn’t aware that James Marsden made you these pancakes,” Harry dodges her affection.

“Or that he had your face as his screensaver,”

“You do not!” Alani counters, eyes wide.

She gasps when he holds up his phone to reveal her unflattering selfie. “Why?!”

“Because you’re so cute, that’s why!” Harry explains with a delicate smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Even when you’re mean,”

Alani playfully swats his arm and pulls him closer by the pocket of his hoodie. “I’m sorry, ku’uipo. You’re the sweetest. Thank you for breakfast.”

“Welcome, dove,” he beams. “Now grab some clothes, we gotta stop by my place first.”

********

Alani slips on a pair of platform sandals and smoothes out her skirt while Harry pulls on a white t-shirt with a blue bandana secured around his neck. The polka dots on her yellow dress bring a fond crease to the corners of his eyes as he swipes a pair of black sunglasses from his dresser and pushes them into his unruly curls for the time being.

“Give us a twirl,” he requests, whistling when she obliges.

Alani spins into his arms and her hands smooth over the soft material of his burnt orange button up adorned with white lilies. “Digging the white tee, babe. How very James Dean of you.”

“Only the best for you, doll.” Harry shoots back in his best American accent.

As they make their way to the back of the house where the Cadillac is parked, he queues up a song that he hopes will bring a smile to Alani’s face. “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” begins playing as loud as his phone speakers will allow and he flashes a cheeky grin in her direction. “Bit of a theme song for you today,”

“You’re such a cheese ball,”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he teases with a pinch of her thigh.

“Never said I didn’t,”

“Fair enough,”

“So, are you finally gonna tell me where we’re going now?” Alani asks, batting her eyelashes.

Harry shakes his head and tuts in mock disapproval. “Are you gonna try to ruin every surprise I plan for you?”

“I just wanna know what to expect!”

“You’ll like it, promise,”

“A hint?” she bargains. “An itsy bitsy, teenie weenie one?”

Harry captures his bottom lip between his teeth and thinks. “It’s for something in your room,”

“That’s all?” Alani blurts. “That could mean anything!”

“You said one hint and I delivered! So why don’t you just sit back and enjoy the ride now?” he suggests, laughing to himself when Alani crosses her arms with a huff.

The drive is scenic and the weather is especially nice, which explains why the beaches they pass are more crowded than usual. Alani checks “beach” off her list of possible locations, racking her brain for the items in her room that could have possibly caught Harry’s attention. She wonders if he noticed the various scented candles perched on her nightstand and dressing table, deciding that a candle shop probably isn’t likely. Momentarily, she recalls the pile of books on her desk and her mind flashes back to their conversation about one of their mutual favorite authors, Angela Avery. Getting warmer. Harry remains tight-lipped and merely offers a coy smile or a whistle each time Alani ventures a guess. But just when she started to believe she would wear him down, the two of them pull into the parking lot of Moku Records and draw her speculation to an end.

“Of course,” Alani surrenders, stepping out of the passenger door that Harry opens for her. “I should’ve known,”

“Came here my first week. The day after I met you, actually,” he explains bashfully.

Alani’s cheeks warm at the sentiment, and she laughs at the way he swings their joint hands softly as they cross the empty parking lot. Harry pulls the door open and she takes a curious step over the threshold, noting the hint of jasmine and sandalwood mixed in the air of the little shop. Her eyes immediately land on the A-B section first where she spots ABBA and The Beatles, and her fingers tenderly run over the cover art.

“Like a kid in a candy shop,” Harry observes fondly. “Pick out whatever you want,”

“Are you serious?” Alani asks, eyes wide.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Course. Wanted to make a contribution to your collection,”

“I don’t know,” she smiles sheepishly. “I don’t want you spending a lot of money on me. I really appreciate the offer, though,”

“So what if you pick some out for me, too? Then we can think of it as compensation for your generous musical recommendations,” Harry puts forward.

“You make music for a living,” Alani scoffs. “What do you need my recommendations for?”

“What, you think musicians are born knowing every song that exists?”

“Okay, fine. Who can we credit for your music taste, then?”

Harry mulls it over for a second, a gentle hum vibrating in his Adam’s apple, before he responds. “My mum, mostly. Some friends—”

“—Any exes?” Alani fishes.

“Yeah,” he confirms shyly. “Some I guess. You?”

“Same, pretty much,”

“Right, well now you’ve gotta tell me where you picked up all of these albums ‘cause I don’t wanna be buying shit your ex-boyfriend introduced you to,” Harry teases to lighten the mood.

An amused exhale escapes from Alani’s nose and she shakes her head. “No, I meant your exes also inspired me,”

She holds up a record with the numbers “1989″ and a familiar blonde on the cover, and Harry shoots her an unamused look. “Okay, now you’re just being mean again,”

“Long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt,” Alani sings as he turns to walk away.

“Keep it up and you’re gonna be buying your own bloody records!”

“Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style,”

Harry gives her a sharp side-eye, but the faint curl of his lips betrays the intended message of his glare. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because it’s a good song,” Alani giggles. “And you’re just being a hater,”

“Thanks,”

Alani turns on her heel with Harry’s palm pressed firmly against hers, and continues to sort through the collection of vinyls. The two of them snake through the aisles and pull albums that they think the other person would enjoy. Harry grabs one from Wings that has been in his recent playlists while Alani explains that he absolutely must own the vinyl version of “AM” by the Arctic Monkeys. He picks out a Shania Twain and highlights the track “You’re Still the One,” which Alani counters with The Mamas and the Papas.

“Wait,” Alani stops, pulling another record excitedly. “You gotta have this one as a starter,”

Harry accepts the copy of Queen’s “A Day at the Races” and adds it to the growing pile. “A classic, of course,”

“And I already have its sister album, ‘A Night at the Opera,’ so we can share, ” she suggests, turning back to her browsing.

Harry’s phone rings and he shuffles the albums around in his arms before lifting it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jeff’s voice carries through the speaker. “Film crew’s here. Are you on your way?”

“Shit,” Harry curses, eyes shutting tight.

“You forgot?”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,”

He had completely disregarded all of his previous plans in favor of spending every possible minute with Alani. One of those plans, however, was a mini documentary following the formation of his debut solo album which would start filming that day and continue over the course of the week.

“No worries,” Jeff continues. “Might wanna give Alani a heads up if you bring her, though.”

“Thanks, mate. See you soon.” Harry says before ending the call.

Alani had only been half listening, still admiring the artwork of the vinyl covers. “Everything okay?”

“Music thing I forgot about. Gotta go back to the house for a bit,”

“Okay,” she nods understandingly, though it pains her to do so. “So you can just drop me off at my house and we’ll hang tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow?” Harry repeats. “I can pick you up after work, it’ll just be for the afternoon,”

Alani shakes her head apologetically. “My dad’s picking me up on his way home from the airport. He’s getting back from his trip tonight and he’ll wanna see me and my sister,”

“Oh,” he relents, defeated. “Okay, so tomorrow morning?”

“Well, tomorrow afternoon. I work the morning shift,”

Harry groans. “Twenty-four hours?”

“We’ll be fine,” Alani chuckles, taking some of the records from his hands to lighten the load.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that,”

“That’s a load of bollocks,”

“Bollocks? God you’re so British,”

“And you are so American,” Harry pouts over the sudden derailment of his romantic afternoon plans. “God, this sucks,”

Alani offers him a kiss to soothe the sting, which he accepts with a hum. “Majorly. But hey, what can you do? The music calls.”

They check out and she carries the bag on her hip, the temporary relief of retail therapy distracting her from the disappointment of their time cut short. Harry checks the time and calculates that he’ll be a little later than promised, but he’s more concerned with making every second with Alani count. There’s a bit of cloud coverage over his usual sunny disposition, so she tries her best to cheer him up by lifting their intertwined fingers and pressing gentle kisses to his knuckles.

“Thank you for the most perfect afternoon,” she murmurs against his skin.

“Wasn’t supposed to be over for a few more hours.”

“Every minute with my favorite guy is like heaven.” Alani admits, watching intently as his smile slowly returns.

********

“How’s California?”

“You know, it’s kinda growing on me. My nana and pops send their love,”

“Aw, miss them,” Alani smiles, shifting the phone to her other ear. She decided to spend her free afternoon catching up with her best friend still on the mainland, though her thoughts occasionally drifted back to Harry. “Any cute surfer boys?”

“Maybe one,” Maleah confides. “But it’s nothing serious,”

“And you’ve been holding out on me?” Alani gasps.

“His name’s Max, he’s a lifeguard,”

“I demand photos immediately,”

“Sure thing,” Maleah giggles sweetly. “Speaking of boytoys, where’s yours? I thought you two were attached at the lips at all times,”

Alani walks her toes up the wall, a soft grin easing onto her face when she spots the pink sticky note from earlier. She turns her head to Harry’s spot and takes a deep breath to soak in the lingering scent of vanilla.

“Working, kinda,”

Maleah frowns. “Doing what exactly?”

“Some music thing. I guess they’re filming a behind the scenes mini-film or something, I’m not entirely sure. Harry was kind of cryptic,”

“That’s weird,”

Alani sits up. “Do you think it sounds fishy?”

“No way. Mr. Perfect would never,” Maleah assures her. “But you know him best. What does your heart tell you?”

It hadn’t even crossed Alani’s mind that Harry might not be telling the truth, but for a brief, guilt ridden moment she considers it. She quickly closes that door after considering all the things he had already been so open about. “He would tell me if something was up,”

“Then there you go,” Maleah says decisively. “That’s good that you guys are so open. Communication is key as they say,”

“Yeah, absolutely. Mind if I gush for a second?”

“Of course not, spill!” Maleah urges her.

Alani recaps the events of the last couple of days, from the painting and the heart-shaped pancakes to the record store. The weight of Harry’s absence grows heavier with each passing minute until it forms a lump at the back of her throat, but she swallows it down.

“Wow,” Maleah swoons. “What planet did this guy come from, and are there more of him there?”

“Sometimes I think he’s too good to be true, like I made him up or something,”

“Can you make me one like that, too?”

Alani giggles. “What about Max?”

“Well hey, maybe we can all double date sometime,” her best friend suggests eagerly. “He’s kind of coming to visit when I go back home,”

“I thought you said it wasn’t serious?”

“Yeah, well, I just didn’t wanna jinx it,” Maleah explains shyly. “So whaddya say? Think Harry will be in town a couple more weeks for us all to meet up?”

Alani searches her brain for any mention of Harry’s travel plans and it suddenly dawns on her that she didn’t know how long he planned to stay, or where he would go once he did eventually leave the island. He had said once that he considered London his home, but it hadn’t exactly been a straight answer. The thought of his inevitable departure makes her stomach turn, so she musters up a more hopeful answer than what reflects her worries. “Definitely.”

********

Harry rushes into the house and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. The voices of his manager and friends mixed with the unfamiliar chatter of another person echo from the kitchen, and he takes a deep breath to steady his nerves.

“I’m sorry for being so late,” he apologizes with an outstretched hand towards one of the strangers he’d only conversed with over emails. “It’s nice to meet you,”

"Paul,” the man offers warmly. “Paul Dugdale,”

“Harry,”

Paul introduces the rest of the film crew that will be following the band for the week and Harry extends a gracious welcome to each of them, despite secretly wishing that he’d never agreed to the project in the first place. Every minute on camera, he realizes, is another agonizing minute away from Alani.

“So listen,” Paul instructs. “Based on everything we’ve discussed in our creative meetings, we’re gonna approach this very fly-on-the-wall style. Very little intervention, you won’t even notice we’re here,”

“Good deal,” Harry nods.

“We’ll save the interviews for when you come back to London in two weeks,”

“I’m sorry, what was that you just said?”

Paul’s brows furrow. “About the interviews?”

“The two weeks bit,” Harry clarifies.

“Oh, right. Well we’re gonna need you back in London in two weeks so we can film the sit-down interviews that will sort of guide the narrative. But don’t worry, we already scheduled it around the Dunkirk shoots so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.”

Harry’s head spins. He had been living in such a carefree bubble with Alani that every other responsibility in his life career-wise had slipped his mind entirely. There was no way on Earth that he could pack everything up and leave just when things had started to fall into place for them. With uneasiness burrowing a whole in the pit of his stomach, Harry musters up a pleasant smile. “Course, sounds great.”

The film crew sets up quickly and urges Harry and his friends to go about their usual business, but nothing feels natural about the clock ticking away inside the singer’s mind. He had always known that he was living on borrowed time in Hawai’i, but he hadn’t planned on finding something worth sticking around for. There had to be something he could do, some way that he could stay even if it was just until the end of summer before Alani would have to return to school full-time in the fall. Despite the uncertainty surrounding his plan to buy more time, one thing is certain: he can’t tell Alani until he has a solid course of action. Harry is fully aware of the risk he runs by leaving her in the dark, but it seems less daunting than the possibility of her ending things because of the sudden expiration date put on their relationship. And no matter how long Harry is able to extend their time together, he knows it won’t be easy to leave Alani and everything they had built together behind. His anxious fingers fiddle with the strings of the guitar resting in his lap as he imagines what it will take to prove his feelings, wishing all the while that he could just hold her in his arms and hear her say that everything would be alright.

********

Alani yawns, but she rubs the drowsiness out of her eyes and returns her fingers to the keyboard. She isn’t sure whether she should go through with the Rolling Stone submission, but writing has always been her way of processing her thoughts, so she decides not to let the material that she already has go to waste. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand next to her cup of coffee and she lifts it gently before reading the caller ID.

“Hey, sunshine,” she murmurs.

“Did I wake you?”

“Nah, just doing some writing,”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Harry’s mouth. “Anything I would like?”

“It’s about you,”

“Love it already,”

Alani giggles softly on the other end and it makes Harry’s chest ache. “Funny that you called. I’m actually having a bit of writer’s block,”

“Alright, let me help you out,” Harry clears his throat. “Harry Styles: aspiring musician, fashion novice, phenomenal lover—”

“—And the most humble person I know,”

“Yeah put that, too,” he adds playfully. “Hey, what time are you working tomorrow?”

Alani yawns and closes her laptop for the night. “Eight to three,”

“Shit,”

“She works hard for the money or whatever Donna Summer said,”

Harry checks the time on his phone—23:39—and he decides to act quickly. “Can you stay awake for another 20 minutes?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why?” Alani questions, taking a sip of her tepid coffee.

“Just don’t fall asleep. I’ll call you back in a few.”

“Okay.”

She assumes that Harry must have gotten busy again and puts on a movie to keep her awake. Fifteen minutes pass and her eyelids are as heavy as bricks, but the ringing of her phone nearly causes her to jump out of her skin.

“Hello?” she answers weakly.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair! Or a ladder, preferably,”

Alani’s face scrunches in confusion. “What?”

“I’m outside, sweets,”

She quickly jumps to her feet and makes her way over to the window at the opposite side of her room. Sure enough, Harry is waiting below with a thumbs up and she chuckles to herself as she lifts the windowpane up.

“What are you doing?”

“Climbing this tree I guess, since you’re no help,” he explains, already finding his footing in the Acacia Koa outside her window.

“We have a front door, you know,”

Harry swiftly maneuvers from branch to branch, which frankly surprises himself as much as it does Alani. When he finally reaches the window and hoists himself inside, a victorious grin spreads across his face punctuated by a dimple on each cheek. “Can James Marsden do that?”

“You’re crazy,” Alani muses, an incredulous look in her eye.

Harry shrugs and reaches behind his back to close the window gently. “Only about you,”

Alani wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a warm kiss, humming when she feels his strong hands smooth up and down her spine.

“Missed you,” he whispers against her lips, tickling her sides lightly.

She giggles and tightens her embrace. “Missed you more,”

Harry kicks off his shoes and follows Alani into her bed, his head tilting when he spots a familiar picture tacked to her ceiling. “Is that—?”

“—An original from my favorite up-and-coming painter, Harry Styles?” she questions, completing his thought. “Why yes, it is. But it’s not for sale, so don’t even think about it,”

“Right next to the O’Keeffe one,” he boasts. “I’m honored,”

“You should be,”

Harry searches his memory to no avail. “Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” Alani murmurs against his neck, fighting the fatigue weighing on her muscles.

“I’m gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he affirms with a feathery kiss to her temple.

Alani sits up and rests her chin on his chest, peering down at him with sleepy eyes and a sweet smile.

“Can’t wait,”

“I should probably go,” Harry breathes deeply, his own exhaustion settling in. “Let you sleep. I just wanted a good-night kiss,”

“No, stay. I’m not even tired,” Alani pleads.

“Your droopy eyes say otherwise,”

“So tell me something to keep me awake,”

Harry swallows. He searches his brain for something to say other than the news that he isn’t ready to break yet. “Like what?”

“Liiiike,” Alani sighs. “Why One Direction broke up,”

“It’s not a very interesting story,”

“I don’t believe you, but whatever. Tell me a secret, then,”

“A secret,” Harry leans in close, the tip of his nose brushing agains the apple of her cheek. “I really wanna kiss you now,”

Alani pulls back the slightest bit to steal a glance at his mouth, already parted enough for her to slot her lips between his. She buries her fingertips in the soft curls at the nape of his neck and the taste of Harry’s spearmint washes over her tongue. His hands brace each side of her neck as he plucks needy kiss after needy kiss from her generous lips.

“I can’t believe we didn’t even make it a whole day apart,” Alani jokes when they pull apart slowly.

“It’s after midnight,” Harry mumbles against her skin. “So we kinda did.”

She chuckles and plants a delicate peck to his forehead. “I love the way your mind works.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #one direction #one direction fanfic #ymbh

23 notes · View notes

wordsfromthesol · 4 years

Text

And They Were Roommates

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Warnings: Cursing, drinking, injuries, fighting…all the good stuff. Word Count: 2.9k Requested: @nadderlover1 A/N: I feel like I’m really bad at writing jealousy…but here ya go anyways! Also it’s kinda long, sorry not sorry

“I still don’t understand why you are getting a roommate. Or why it’s not one of your fabulous brothers.” Jason chided his older brother.

“Cop salary? And I spend enough time with you guys.”

“Please, we all know you could just ask daddy –”

“No.” Dick quickly cut his brother off. “It’ll be fine. I did a background check on her and everything.”

“Her?! Oh Dickieboy, you didn’t tell me it was girl.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Of course! What if you fall madly in love with her? What if I do?”

“You will not be going near her, so that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh you take the fun out of everything.” Jason whimpered.

“You poor child. Now get out before she gets here.” Dick started pushing his brother out of the apartment.

“If she’s hot I call dibs!” Jason called over his shoulder as he resisted the force on his shoulders, before finally giving in and scrambling out the door.

Another hour passed before Dick heard rapping at his door. He swung open the door and saw you standing, suitcase in hand.

“Y/N, uh welcome…” Dick gestured you inside.

“Thanks. I uhm, have a few more things in my car…” You mumbled as you set the suitcase just inside the door. As you turned to head back downstairs, you noticed Dick step out of the front door. You looked back, slightly shocked, “So have long have you been in Bludhaven?”

“Traveled a bit when I was younger, then was in Gotham until a few years ago.”

“Gotham? I didn’t realize sane people actually lived in the city. My parents thought I was crazy enough for coming to Bludhaven.”

“Well, I lived just outside the city, technically.”

“So you ever see the clown? Or maybe that scarecrow guy?”

Dick held back his laughter, “Oh yeah. I’ve seen them all.”

“Wait seriously?” You stopped short and turned towards him, eyes wide. “And you’re still alive?”

“Luck of the draw I suppose.”

“Geez, someone is looking out for you.”

“Heh, yeah. Usually there’s a few.”

Over the next few months the two of you grew closer, roommates to friends. Movie nights and dinner dates weren’t out of the ordinary.

“Wait, so you’re father is Bruce Wayne.” You fell back into the couch with laughter.

“Well, adopted father. But yeah.”

“And you decided to be a cop.”

“Yeah…”

“Oh come on!” You slapped his shoulder, “Trust fund baby is such a better occupation!”

“Hey!” Dick’s hand flew up to his chest, pretending to be offended by your commentary. “Besides, if I was, then you wouldn’t have met me.” He elbowed you as a smile grew on his lips.

“Oh,” your voice exaggerated and raspy, “and how would I have lived without knowledge of THE DICK GRAYSON.”

Dick folded his arms, ignoring the obvious sarcasm dripping from your words. “Exactly.” He huffed out just as a notification came across his phone. He glanced at it and you noticed his expression sour. “I’m sorry,” Dick looked up at you, “I know it’s movie night but I have to go.”

“Oh yeah, it’s fine…” You tried to brush off the obvious hurt in your voice. His phone rang again, you glanced at the screen seeing the name “Barbara” flash. “Uhm, well don’t get shot. I do hate apartment hunting.”

“I’ll try my hardest.” Dick smirked as he hurried out the door.

You sighed as you pressed play on the movie. I wonder who that is…her name pops up on his phone an awful lot. Are they dating? You tried to shake the thoughts from your mind, who cares if they are dating. He’s your roommate. Your friend and your roommate. You repeated the last line like a mantra until your mind became invested in the movie in front of you.

Another few months went by and it seemed you couldn’t have asked for a better roommate. You had become friends with his brothers and Dick…Dick had become your best friend. Even though he was obviously keeping a secret from you.

“So pizza tonight?” You called out as you threw open the front door. Today had been awful and you just wanted a relaxing night with Dick at your side.

“Oh Y/N/N, I was actually just leaving.” Dick’s phone buzzed. You tensed as you saw “Barbara” flash across the screen. “I uhm, have a family thing. Don’t wait up.”

Your jealousy got the better of you and you pulled out your phone, dialing Jason.

“Well, if it isn’t my brother’s beautiful roommate. Finally realize I’m the hotter one?”

“Ha ha Jay. We’re just roommates.”

“Yeah okay, and my name’s actually Sam.”

You let out a loud sigh, “I need a drink and your brother just left.”

“Ooh is this like the ‘I’m home alone’ text?”

“No, this is like the I don’t want to drink alone, so I’m asking an annoying friend to come over.”

“Alright alright, I’ll leave in 10.”

You had already emptied half a bottle of wine when Jason arrived. A smile graced your face as you swung open the front door and lunged at Jason.

“Jay, you’re here!” you cried out as you enveloped him in a hug.

“And I see I need to catch up.” Jason smirked as he lifted you slightly off the ground and carried you inside.

“I’m fine, really. Just…” You let go of him and picked up your fresh glass of wine. “Just a bad day.”

“Hm, been there.” Jason poured himself a glass of whiskey and joined you on the couch. “What happened?”

“I just don’t understand why people are intentionally bitchy. Like for no reason. It makes everyone around them miserable. And it makes them miserable. So why do it?”

“They just want everyone to be as miserable as them.”

“But they make it worse that way! If you surround yourself with happy people you are more likely to be happy. So if your sole purpose is to make everyone miserable, then you’re solidifying your own miserable life.”

“Maybe they think they deserve to be miserable.” Jason solemnly looked down at his glass.

“I hope, Jason Peter Todd, you are not talking about yourself. Don’t make me fight you.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m working on it. You sure that’s the only thing bothering you.”

Your eyes darted around, avoiding contact with Jason’s. “Of course. What else would it be?”

“Something to do with my brother perhaps?”

“Wha –” your eyes narrowed as you grabbed the bottle of wine beside you, emptying the rest into your glass. You proceeded to take a long drink in order to avoid further questioning.

“We both know I can out drink you. So we can do this the easy way. Or the way that gives you a hangover in the morning.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You looked up at him as a smirk formed on his lips. He knew he had won. “I just know he’s keeping something from me. But what am I supposed to say? Plus, I’m just –”

“Don’t even finish that sentence Y/N Y/M/N. You are way more to him than just a roommate. Everyone can see that, even if you two can’t.”

Another bottle of wine later and Dick opened the front door, garnished with a new black eye. “Jason…?” He questioned as he saw the two of you sitting on the couch.

“And that’s my queue to leave.” Jason got up and whispered to his brother as he passed, “You should really just tell her. Though I’d do it in the morning, she’s two bottles in.”

Dick’s face grimaced with confusion as he walked over to you, slumped over on the couch.

“Richard John Grayson. Is that a black eye?” Your words were slurred and drawn out.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the important thing here. Why are you hammered?”

“I’m fine.” You attempted to stand, thankfully Dick was there to catch you before you hit the ground. You pushed out of his arms, “Really. I’m fine.” You blinked intently at the ground, trying to get rid of the blurriness. You took one deliberate step after the other, determined to make it to your bedroom. Dick followed at your side, arms ready to catch you.

“Y/N, will you just –”

“No! You can go on with your secrets I’ll be going to sleep now.”

“I –” Dick was left dumbfounded standing at your bedroom door, until a crashing sound shook him. He looked over to see you on the floor, blood beginning to seep from your head. “Shit.” He ran over to you, “Y/N. Y/N, I need you to look at me.” You pushed his hands away.

“I’m fine!”

“You’re bleeding. And I don’t give a shit if you’re mad at me right now. I’m going to help you get to bed and then you can hate me later.”

You let out a stubborn huff, but quickly realized you did not have the energy or the sobriety to argue with him. Dick picked you up, bringing you into his own bathroom and set you on the counter. He opened a cabinet full of way too many medical supplies for the average person and pulled out some bandages and glue.

“This is probably going to hurt, but it’s pretty deep. I’m going to have to glue it.”

“You can’t glue my face!”

Dick couldn’t help himself, as he let out a laugh. “Y/N/N, I promise it’s safe. I’ve used it a million times.” Your lower lip puffed out as you stared into his impossibly blue eyes. Your little pout broke his heart, “You’ll still be as breathtaking as ever.” His hand cradled your face in an attempt to console you. Once you were patched up, he brought you over to his bed. “Now my drunken little Y/N, I’m going to bring you some water. Wait here.”

You kind of followed his instructions, only you fell backwards and promptly fell asleep. Dick walked back in, carrying the biggest water bottle he could find. He stopped in the doorway when he saw you already asleep. Dick contemplated if he should carry you to your own room or leave you in his. He, somewhat selfishly, chose the latter. He tucked you under the blankets and got ready for bed, crawling in next to you.

Dick woke several hours later, with you on his chest. He dared not move, after logging this into his memory, he attempted to fall back asleep. You began to stir a few moments later, forcing your eyes open you glanced around in confusion. Your mind raced as you felt someone’s chest beneath your head. Slowly, you rose, letting out a sigh of relief once you noticed it was Dick. Quietly you tip-toed to your own room, grabbing the bottle of water and aleve Dick left for you on the dresser. You crawled into your own bed and fell back asleep, tomorrow was going to be hell.

Unshockingly, the two of you completely ignored the past nights events and fell back into routine.

You were looking forward to movie night, Dick had missed the last three and you really needed some best friend time. As soon as Dick walked through the door you rushed to his side.

“So, decided on a movie?” You looped your arm into his.

“Actu –” His response was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

You threw your hands up in the air. “Of course you can’t. You haven’t been here all month, why start now.”

“Y/N/N…” He glanced down at his phone, Barbara was calling again. He sighed before continuing, “I have to go.”

“Girlfriend calling again, I get it. Have fun.” You turned to leave, as Dick grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards him.

“That’s not – I’ll explain everything when I get back. I promise.” You were left speechless and confused as he walked out of the front door. The slam of the front door shook you free from the trance. You walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine. Before you could open you heard a knock on the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you went to open it.

“Forget your –” you stopped once you realized it was not Dick, and the two men were both armed. You attempted to slam the door, but the first man shoved in. Slamming the unopened bottle of wine against his head, it shattered as he fell to the floor.

“You bitch!” The second man screamed as he grabbed you, wrapping his hands around your neck. You repeatedly punched him in the side, but to no avail and soon everything went black. When you woke, you were gagged and tied to a chair. Thankfully, you recognized the surroundings, they hadn’t moved you from the apartment.

“Oh the birdie is awake. Don’t worry, we just want your little Detective friend.”

You looked around and noticed the first man was awake, holding a bag of frozen vegetables to his head.

“Yeah, so when the fuck is he coming back? If it ain’t soon, I may need to start paying you back for this.” The man pointed to his injured head, which was still bleeding. “Can’t we just call him from the bitch’s phone?” He pleaded to his partner.

“No. He can’t know something is wrong. The boss wants him alive. Teach him a lesson about poking around where he shouldn’t.”

You made the mistake of rolling your eyes at the comment. The action was quickly met with a swift punch to the jaw. Honestly, you had no idea how long you were sequestered to the chair. All you know is the two idiots couldn’t stop arguing about what to do. Finally, you heard footsteps in the hall. They stopped at your front door, but it seemed as if they would never open it. At last you heard the key in the lock just before light from the hall began to flood the room.

“Y/N?” Dick’s voice sounded worried. Did he know something was wrong?

You attempted to scream, but the sound was muffled by the fabric in your mouth. Somehow, it was enough. Dick rushed to your side, but you shook your head furiously in an attempt to warn him. He didn’t seem to need it. Your eyes went wide as a man came up behind him. Dick sunk to the floor, sweeping the assailant’s feet from under him. The next man came out of the shadows and charged at him with a knife. Dick swept his body to the side as he jabbed underneath the man’s shoulder, forcing the knife to crash to the ground. The man clutched his arm, as you watched Dick’s fist collide with the man’s jaw.

Dick walked over to you, pulling the gag from your mouth just in time for you to scream out, “Behind you!” Once again, it seemed as if he didn’t even need your warning. Dick’s arm came up just in time to block the attempted blow to his face. He stretched the arm out and slammed it against the man’s neck. Before you could blink Dick’s foot collided with the man’s chest, sending him flying into the wall. You watched as the man sunk to the ground.

“So obviously I’m –” Dick’s eyes darted towards the man attempting to sneak out. “Well you’re not going anywhere.” He raced over, grabbing the man’s forearm, Dick swung him into the wall. Dick flipped on the light and his eyes went wide as he saw the bruises forming on your neck and jaw. He raced up to you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “What did they do to you?” His hands cradled your face.

“I’m okay Dick. Really, just…”

“What?” His expression filled with fear as his eyes searched yours for an answer.

“I’m still tied to a chair.”

Dick’s hand went up to cover his face, stifling a laugh. He withdrew a knife from his pocket and cut your hands and feet loose. Before you could move from the chair, he was kneeling in front you again. “You’re okay though?” He asked worriedly, as his hand lightly grazed your bruised jaw.

“I’m okay.”

Dick let out a sigh of relief as he hung his head. “Alright, I’m going to call the station.” When Dick got off the phone he walked over and sat next to you on the couch. “They are going to come take pictures, get your statement…I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“Dick, it’s not your fault. You were doing your job.”

“I was…I was only looking into them for my other job though. I should’ve known better.”

“Your other job?”

“This is, uhm, this is what I wanted to explain. I’m Nightwing. And and I get so many calls from Barbara, she’s like uh the woman in the chair? Behind the scenes…gathering intel.” He looked over at you, eyes hopeful for your approval. He was not expecting you to burst out in laughter. Which is exactly what you did. “Y/N?”

“I’m sorry Dick. I just…it makes so much sense!” You took in a deep breath to compose yourself.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Mad? Of course not.”

“Good. Because there’s something else I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“What’s a bigger secret than –” Your words were cut off by his lips moving against yours. He pulled back, leaving his forehead pressed to yours.

“I love you.”

339 notes · View notes

eccentricpony · 4 years

Note

Hello!! I really enjoy your writing~~! May I request a cafe date h/c with Taichi? Tysm!!💕

Hi dearie! Aww, thank you so much! And YES I love Taichi, he’s such a cutie boy. Here you go, hope you enjoy!

Taichi tapped his fingers on the quaint café table along to the rhythm of a Guilty Summer song that was stuck in his head. Maybe you weren't going to show up? His big, teal eyes light up at the sound of the squeaking front door, but it’s just a pair of old ladies. Sigh.

He ran a reel in his head over and over again of all the romance advice Kazunari had given him. Although he had his doubts that any of Kazu’s advice had actually been tried-and-true. And then there was the advice he got from Banri. And Omi. And Sakyo. Wait, why did he ask Sakyo? The door opened once more, and he watched forlornly as a woman and her baby entered the establishment.

Well, he should have anticipated this. I mean, you were just so funny and smart and SO so super cute that it was just a matter of time until you realized how amazing you were and how incredibly average he was and then left him to find someone equally as amazing as yourself. You were probably at another café right now, giggling at the awesome guy’s super funny jokes, and swooning over-

“Hey, Tai-tai!”

Taichi bolted upright at the sound of your voice. He looked up at you like you were The Creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel; with awe and baited breath. Cue the butterflies in his stomach.

“Ah, uh… h- hey!” The red-haired boy snapped out of his self-pitying reverie and stood to face you. You looked so sweet in your outfit, and was that the cardigan he helped you pick out last week? It looked so good on you – peach was definitely your color. Your rose colored sneakers looked so cute, too. They matched the cute af rosy tint that colored your cheeks at the moment. Damn, every color was totally your color.

“See that, hon? I knew they’d show up!” The kindly middle-aged waitress beamed at you as she spoke. You looked over at Taichi, shuffling his feet awkwardly adorably. “Go ahead and place your order at the register whenever you’re ready.” With another thoughtful glance, she hurried off to check on another table.

“Were you waiting long, Tai?” You took a seat across from his at the table, placing your bag on the seat next to you.

Ugh, that’s right, you damn fool, he berated himself inwardly as he followed your lead and took his seat. He had arrived there 45 minutes early to make sure he was there before you so you wouldn’t think he stood you up. He opened his mouth to respond, but the next words spoken were yours.

“You look super cute today,” you gushed, to the response of pink-tinted cheeks on Taichi’s face. He did though; dressed in all monochrome colors, his shock of crimson hair and big, bright viridian eyes took center stage. You adored your pseudo-punk cinnamon roll, and you never believed it when he told you that this was his first relationship. He was such a thoughtful, sweet, supportive boyfriend; how could you possibly have been the first to notice how wonderful he is?

“S- so do you, you always do,” he responded sincerely, though it came out mumbled and he spoke it into the laminated daily specials menu that lay before him. The butterflies in his stomach are now throwing a rave, and his cheeks match his brightly dyed locks below the smattering of fading freckles. His fingers fumbled with a tightly rolled bundle of silverware as he braved another look at your face. He hadn’t been on a boat since he was little but man, your pretty eyes made him feel like he was seasick in the best possible way.

“Should we go order then?” There was no need to look at a menu; you both always ordered the same things every time. Taichi jumped to his feet and ran his fingers through his wild mane of hair.

“I can go order it,” he asserted, patting the wallet in his seat pocket to make sure it was still there.

“You sure, Tai? I don’t mind waiting with you.” As much as he’d love your company while waiting out the queue, he wanted to be all gentlemanly and show that he listened to you. And he really did; in fact, he had been reciting your order through his head since this morning. He could say it in his sleep at this point, he was sure of it.

“Nah, you just wait here and chill, I got this.” Taichi flashed you a winning smile, a smile that always carried a hint of unintended mischief. Your heart did a flip as you nodded in consent. With a pep in his step, the skater boy hurried off to the cash register.

A few minutes pass and still no sign of Taichi. Maybe he decided to wait at the counter for the drinks? You return your phone to your bag and consider seeking him out when he at long last returns to the table, empty handed. His face is ruddy as he rubs the back of his neck, meeting your eye sheepishly.

“S- sorry… was it… extra extra foam, or was the extra extra for the cinnamon? Or is it no cinnamon?” This poor puppy.

“Taichi, I don’t mind coming with you, I know my order is a huge pain…” You want to give him a tight hug but this confused cutie is near passing out from all the blood rushing to his face today, you don’t want to add to it.

“No, no…” He shook his head resolutely. “Please, I got this, for real. Can you just say it for me one time?” You smile at his determination and detail your usual drink for him, leaving out an ingredient or two for simplicity’s sake.

“Got it!” he declares and swiftly heads back to the front counter, eyebrows screwed up in concentration as he mouths the ingredients to himself. Pulling out your cell once more, you launch the Gallery and scroll through all the pictures you’ve taken of you and your beau. You especially love the selfie you took of the two of you sharing an ice cream at the beach. He had wanted you to delete it because he had a chocolate chip on his upper lip, but you insisted that it was one of the cutest pictures of him ever and he gave in.

You recall wiping it off his lip with your pointer finger after you had both noticed it in the pic, and he bit his lip shyly in response to your touch You wish you had a pic of that in your phone, the thought of his coy expression gave you goosebumps. With a few speedy taps, you made the ice cream pic your new home screen.

“I’m back!” Taichi announced upon his return. As promised, he delivered a tray of your two drinks upon the table, along with seven pastries. “They, uhh… they had a bunch of your favorites so I just got ‘em all.” He plopped down across from you, stealing a worried glance at your expression, hoping you didn’t think that was a totally stupid thing to do.

“You are the sweetest!” you praise, leaning over a lemon cake and mini éclair to touch his face. Taichi jerks his arm in surprise at your approach, nearly tipping his drink across your sweets buffet, but mercifully it merely wobbles and remains upright.

You ran your fingers across the black plastic points protruding from his right ear and Taichi swallowed the meager amount of saliva in his now parched mouth. Leaning further still with a mischievous grin, you mercilessly stroked the skin behind his ear with your finger, knowing full well he would become a flustered mess. His entire body responded to your touch, nerves head to toe fizzing from the smell of your shampoo further rendering him senseless.

“Next time, it’s my turn to buy our drinks, okay babe?” His body tensed up as it did anytime you used a term of endearment. Your head felt swimmy looking into his lovely ocean-colored eyes. Before you had a chance to chicken out, you closed the distance between you two and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Taichi exhaled an inaudible gasp upon contact, his mouth impossibly soft as it cushioned your own, though it took him a few frazzled seconds to lean into your affection. The kiss seemed to last forever, yet it ended far too soon.

Meanwhile, the butterflies in Taichi’s stomach had started a mosh pit. Re-opening his eyes, he watched as you returned to your chair, and he couldn’t do much more than simper at you like the lovesick puppy that he was. Suddenly, all of his pre-planned formalities seemed a lot less important than the adoration in your eyes that you held for him just now.

“How ‘bout next time we do it together, babe?” he suggested with a playful wink, lifting a cherry Danish and holding it out for you to take a taste.

#a3!#a3! actor training game #a3! imagines #a3! headcanons #a3 x reader #a3 taichi #a3! taichi #taichi nanao #nanao taichi #a3 #a3 act addict actors #a3 actor training game #taichi x reader #taichi #a3 imagines #a3 headcanons #a3! x reader

154 notes · View notes

ibijau · 4 years

Note

i would give my left arm for a continuation of your sangyao “why do i remember kissing you” scene. PLEASE let meng yao be happy or i’ll cry ;-;

a continuation of this

“That’s the most stupid idea you’ve ever had,” Jiang Cheng said, which is a little harsh, but Nie Huaisang nods and puts the bottle back on the ray.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes hard from where he’s leaning on the shopping cart.

“No, grab the fucking vodka, you idiot. I’m not going sober through a party where Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are there. But you plan, about Meng Yao? That’s stupid even by your standards.”

Nie Huaisang shudders at the idea of Wei Wuxian flirting with everyone to grab Lan Wangji’s attention, as if he doesn’t have it already, and of Lan Wangji’s cold anger making the temperature drop. When he’s done hooking up with Meng Yao, Nie Huaisang is so taking care of these two, if only so they’ll stop ruining every party.

He grabs two bottles of vodka, and some whiskey too before motioning for them to move to the sodas.

“My plan is excellent, you’re just jealous ChengCheng.”

“It’s terrible,” Jiang Cheng insists, dropping some coke in the cart. “Can’t you just say you like him, like a normal person, ask him out on a date… you know, something normal?”

Trying to decide between two flavours of likely repulsing energy drinks, Nie Huaisang shrugs.

“What would you know about normal.”

“Rude. I’ve probably tried to understand that bullshit more than any of you,” Jiang Cheng snaps, pushing him aside to pick one of the energy drink packs. “And I can tell you this: being straightforward is the best way to go. Or else, you’ll just end up like Wei Wuxian and his walking ice-cube. Talk to Meng Yao, tell him you like his butt or… whatever it is you like about him anyway.”

“The dimples,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “And the fact that he’s my only friend with a brain.”

“Again, fucking rude.”

Nie Huaisang shrugs. He’s aware that actually, most of his friends are probably near geniuses. Wei Wuxian has three degrees and is working on a fourth while also doing volunteer work. Lan Wangji is a music prodigy who’s been doing concerts since he was six along with his brother. Even Jiang Cheng, always accused by his parents of underperforming when they were alive, managed to finish his degree with honours while taking over their business after their untimely death. If anything, Nie Huaisang himself, who’s been lingering in art school and is in no hurry to graduate, is the idiot of the group so he probably shouldn’t make judgements.

But there’s just something about Meng Yao’s sharp mind that sets him aside from everyone else. It’s a practical sort of cleverness which the others lack. Meng Yao always knows how to get the best price on things, he knows which bars are safe and which aren’t at a glance, how to defuse a fight (or start one without getting involved), what to wear on any occasion. It’s like Meng Yao could be thrown into absolutely any situation and always land on his feet, looking like he belongs there and knows exactly what to do.

He’s also normal smart on top of that, which is nice. Nie Huaisang has never found anyone else as excited as him to chat about the pre-raphaelites, not until meeting his brother’s roommate.

“I can’t just tell him I like him,” Nie Huaisang sighs, pushing the cart toward the queue for the cashier. “What if he doesn’t like me back?”

“He does,” Jiang Cheng retorts. “And even if he doesn’t, at least then you’d know and be able to move on. What’s your stupid plan of making out with him for a stupid bet even going to accomplish, uh?”

“It gives me an exit,” Nie Huaisang explains, as if it’s obvious. It certainly is to him. “I get to kiss him, and then if he seems to be having regrets after, I can just say that hey, guess what? It’s fine, it was all fake for money, we can stay friends! It’s a foolproof plan.”

Jiang Cheng considers that for a moment, and grimaces.

“I still think it’s stupid. Just tell him that you like him. If he likes you back, good. If he doesn’t, we have vodka. If he doesn’t like you back and he’s an asshole about it, then he was never worth your attention and I’m sure Lan Wangji will gladly break his nose for making you cry.”

“Not taking romantic advice from the aro guy,” Nie Huaisang replies with a pout. “Just… are you going to place the bet for me or not?”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, and grumbles, and makes a whole damn show of expressing how much he hates the idea, in case it wasn’t clear enough yet, but… of course he agrees to help. That’s just how he is. For all of his advice about just saying things, Jiang Cheng can’t do anything without pretending that he’s forced to act against his better judgement.

A number of hours later, Nie Huaisang is standing in his brother’s bathroom, numbly trying to brush his teeth and wondering if Jiang Cheng didn’t have a point yesterday about how stupid his plan is.

Well, no. The plan was great. Nie Huaisang got to make out with the guy of his dreams, first where everyone could see them so he’d get some sweet extra cash, and then after in Meng Yao’s bedroom until they kind of fell asleep. That part of the plan went great.

No, the problem is that Nie Huaisang panicked this morning when Meng Yao asked why they kissed last night. It’s just. It’s just that Meng Yao seemed so shocked by the idea, as if it’s something he’d never have considered while sober, and Nie Huaisang was still a little out of it because he too drank too much and slept too little, so he tried to play it cool, and…

Heavens but the expression on Meng Yao’s face when he said it was just for a bet, the tone of his voice when he asked if he should expect his share of money, that was…

Nie Huaisang sighs, and presses his forehead against the bathroom’s mirror. The glass feels almost too cold against his skin, but that’s nice, that’s grounding.

Jiang Cheng was right, he should have just told Meng Yao that he likes him instead of trying to be clever. He’s ruined everything now. Whatever Meng Yao felt before, he surely hates him now because if there’s one thing he hates, it’s feeling used by other people. With how many times Meng Yao complained about that aspect of his old friendship with the Wens, back before he moved in with Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang should have known not to pull this sort of bullshit, but…

Well. He’s the idiot in their group of friends, isn’t he?

In the bedroom next door, Nie Huaisang hears movement. Meng Yao seems to be getting up from his bed. Nie Huaisang tenses, fearing that the other man will come talk to him and tell him to get out of the flat… but he doesn’t. Instead, he hears footsteps going toward the kitchen, ignoring him entirely. Maybe it’s worse than being kicked out.

It takes Nie Huaisang a while to calm down, but eventually he makes it to the kitchen too. He’s hoping to grab some water before being ordered to leave. He was supposed to help Meng Yao clean the flat before Nie Mingjue’s return, that was the deal, but he’s not sure Meng Yao will want his company after this. He’s not sure what Meng Yao will want in general.

When Nie Huaisang steps into the kitchen, he finds that what Meng Yao wants, apparently, is breakfast. He’s put water to boil, bread in the toaster, and he’s looking in the fridge for something to put on it.

“Strawberry or apricot?” He asks without turning to look at Nie Huaisang.

“What?”

“Jam, for the toasts. Strawberry or apricot? It’s all we have.”

“Whichever one has no mold on it,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, because he’s been at his brother’s flat for breakfast before, thanks.

Meng Yao checks both containers, and grimaces.

“Strawberry it is. Sit down, it’ll be ready in a moment.”

Nie Huaisang obeys on sheer instinct, carefully watching Meng Yao as he rummages through a cupboard for their box of tea.

“I thought you’d be wanting me gone,” Nie Huaisang says, because he’s really an idiot and can’t keep his mouth shut.

Meng Yao drops the box of tea on the table, and turns away to check on the toasts.

“Not until this flat is clean. I’m not dealing with this mess alone.”

That does sound fair. Nie Huaisang promised to help after all, and he probably deserves to do it as punishment or something.

They have breakfast in silence, and then get to cleaning, still in silence. After a while, Nie Huaisang starts wishing they had music at least. Not two seconds later, Meng Yao turns on the radio. It’s that classical music station Nie Mingjue likes, because he’s such an old man that he still has a radio and really does listen to that kind of music. They’ve both teased him about it, and as they hear some Bach ring into the quiet flat, Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang can’t help trading a brief smile.

It gives Nie Huaisang some hope. He ruined something last night and this morning, but he didn’t ruin everything.

It takes some hours for the flat to return to its normal state (parties with Wei Wuxian are always a mess) but they manage anyway. When they’re done, Nie Huaisang feels a little calmer. Sure he fucked up, but Meng Yao seems less upset about it now, so they’re probably fine. They can pretend this never happened, and go on with being friends as long as they never talk about this again.

That’d be a good plan.

Instead, Nie Huaisang looks around the now clean flat, and like the complete idiot he is, lets his mouth say words without having his brain check them first.

“So, any chance we might make out again someday?” he asks.

The way Meng Yao tenses instantly and scowls at him is just awful. So much for not ruining everything.

“What, do you need more material for that bet?” Meng Yao snaps. “Is there money on the line if we last more than one night? I’ll want fifty percent of profits then.”

Nie Huaisang winces.

“I’m not asking for that, I swear! It’s…”

He takes a deep breath, wondering how to explain the situation, and then…

Ah.

He can’t believe he’s about to take the advice Jiang Cheng gave him yesterday. But at this point, he really has nothing left to lose, right?

“A-Yao, I like you a lot,” he sighs. “I really do. I have for a while. The bet was just a good excuse, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. I think you’re really handsome and clever and I want to go on dates and stuff, I just wasn’t sure you’d want that too so I thought I’d… test the waters, you know?”

The intensity of Meng Yao’s stare is such that Nie Huaisang has to look down. Or maybe it’s just that he’s too embarrassed by his own words to bear to look at Meng Yao’s reaction. Nie Huaisang is never one to be direct if there’s a chance to make things convoluted, and to open up like this and just say things, with his words, that’s just…

“You’re an idiot,” Meng Yao says, his tone so flat it’s impossible to judge how he feels.

“Yeah, I know. Listen, it’s… it’s fine, don’t worry, I’ll show myself out and I won’t bother you again and…”

“I think it’s best if you leave, yes,” Meng Yao agrees. “But be back at six.”

Nie Huaisang’s head snaps up to look at his friend. He didn’t remember that they had plans for that night.

“You’re taking me on a date,” Meng Yao announces. “Somewhere nice, to apologise for being so stupid.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, while Meng Yao smirks.

“Buy me flowers too. Maybe chocolate as well.”

“You’ve watched too many rom-coms,” Nie Huaisang retorts, feeling a smile creep on his face. “You really want to go on a date with me?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean,” Meng Yao says, which is an awful lie as they both know, but Nie Huaisang is willing to pretend, just this once. “Now fuck off, I need to take a nap and shower and get ready for my date.”

Nie Huaisang grins, and almost runs out of the door. It’s almost two, he’s only got a few hours to plan the best date Meng Yao has ever had.

#sangyao #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jc is at least aro and probably ace too but he's still figuring out that bit #nhs is just very stupid #I feel very weird writing modern aus and also I don't know anything about alcohol and I've never been to a party in my life :)#jau writes #semicryptid

47 notes · View notes

tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years

Text

all was golden when the day met the night

chapter 3/5

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“...and then we saw the lions, but they were sleeping so they weren’t very scary. And the otters were so cute, and they came right up to the glass when they were swimming underwater!”

Eddie smiles as Chris recounts their day at the zoo to his parents over FaceTime. The monthly calls had been their idea, a way for them to stay up to date on Chris’s life in between holidays and summer visits. It was also their way of having a scheduled time to nitpick Eddie’s life from 800 miles away.

He loves his parents, he does. He just loves them more when they aren’t speaking.

“Your face looks a little red, sweetheart, were you wearing sunscreen today?” his mother asks, face getting too close to the camera as she inspects her grandson.

“Yeah, Dad put some on me when we got there.”

“Did he put on any more during the day?” Her eyes shifted to Eddie, perched next to Chris on the couch. “You know you need to reapply every two—”

“Yes, Mom, I did. And it’s getting late so we should really get going, say goodbye buddy—”

“Wait! I didn’t show them my snakes!” Chris rifles through his backpack underneath the coffee table, yanking out a folder and flipping through it until he finds the drawings he and Buck worked on. He holds them up triumphantly, angling them so his grandparents could see. “Buck helped me with them!”

“And Buck is…”

“Dad, you know who Buck is. My friend that owns the tattoo shop?” He tries not to ignore how calling Buck his “friend” feels like a disservice to all that he really is, how it tastes like sand in his mouth.

“He’s an awesome artist,” Chris pipes in. “He has huge books in the shop of all the stuff he can do, and sometimes he lets me watch when he’s working!”

His parents blanche at that, and Eddie is really not prepared to have this argument right now. He and Chris had a great day together, a rare day when he wasn’t in the shop for any reason, leaving it in Hen’s more than capable hands. They had a lot of fun at the zoo, were getting ready for a Marvel double feature in their living room, and Eddie was in an honest-to-god good mood, for once not plagued by lingering stress or ambiguous sadness. He’s not about to let any outside judgements ruin that.

“I think it’s time to go. Chris, can you say goodnight and go get your pajamas on?” Chris waves as he grabs his crutches and heads to his room. Eddie turns back to say a quick goodbye, but his dad clears his throat before he can speak.

“You leave your son alone in a tattoo parlor?”

“He’s not alone, Dad, he’s with Buck and all the other adults that work there. Plus it’s only in a pinch.”

“Eddie, do you really think those are the kind of people you should be leaving Christopher with?” his mother asks, a look of contempt masked by concern on her face.

Eddie takes a slow breath in and out through his nose. No use in giving them more ammo by getting angry. “Just because you don’t like their business doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

“We just want to make sure Christopher is—”

“He’s fine. He’s happy when he’s learning to draw with Buck. I’m not going to take that away from him just because you don’t like it. Now we have to go, we’ll talk to you later.” He hits the red end button before they can protest any further. He tips his head back to rest on the couch and scrubs a hand over his face, his good mood now tinged with prickly frustration.

He thinks his parents mean well, but they’ve always been forceful when it comes to Chris, especially after Shannon left. It’s like they knew, somehow, how lost Eddie was on his own, how scared he was that every little thing he did was setting Chris up for failure, and took every opportunity to fix something he was doing or tell him he was wrong. That he didn’t actually know what Chris needed since he had been gone for so long.

Eventually, Eddie started believing them.

But when Mrs. Negrelli gave him the money to start his own shop, he didn’t just see it as a fresh start for himself, but for Chris too. Eddie would be able to take them anywhere, away from the looming disappointment of his parents, and give himself the opportunity to figure out how to best be the dad that Chris needed. And if the past year is any indication, he knows he made the right choice, a credit he isn’t usually able to give himself. He’s not perfect, still second guesses himself constantly, but Chris gets invited to birthday parties and sleepovers and gets As on his report card, so something must be working.

Chris comes back from his room, Spider-Man pajamas on, handing Eddie the remote to queue up the first movie. He’s happily chattering about all the cool things Spider-Man’s costume does in the movie, and as he settles into Eddies’s side, head resting on his chest, Eddie feels the prickliness subside, replaced by the contentment he only ever feels around his son.

They’re good here. Chris is happy here. That’s all that matters to Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sundays are Eddie’s favorite days in the shop — traffic is usually slow, so he has time to plan out orders for the rest of the week and make sure their inventory is in check. It’s a little monotonous, but it eats up about four hours of time and gives him a break from any real thinking, so he feels almost relaxed by the time he’s done stocking cases. He has the added bonus of Chris and Buck’s conversation in the back room as background noise, interspersed with the occasional yell and slap of the table and Buck teaches him a new card game. The melody of Chris’s laugh and the harmony of their voices soothes him even more than usual, quiets some of the lingering annoyance from his call with his parents.

As he heads into the back room to grab the last boxes of peonies, Chris beckons him over to the table where he and Buck have been stationed since breakfast. It’s become a bit of a tradition: Buck brings muffins or bagels from Bobby and Athena’s bakery on Sundays and hangs out until the afternoons when his earliest appointments are scheduled (I refuse to tattoo anyone while they’re hungover from Saturday, Eddie. It’s not good for them and the extra complaining is certainly not good for me.).

Maybe that’s another reason Sundays are his favorite days. Add that to the list of secret feelings involving Buck that are following him to the grave.

“Dad! Look, I colored Buck’s skull purple!” Chris says as Eddie comes behind his chair, bracketing him in with his arms on the table. Chris giggles as Eddie kisses the top of his head, leaning over him for a closer look. Buck’s latest tattoo is indeed a bright shade of purple, the roses surrounding it colored in blue.

“I told him I like cooler colors and he ran with it,” Buck says. Eddie’s eyes shift to Buck’s face, and he feels his heart stutter when he sees the soft, fond smile directed at Chris. It stutters again when Buck’s eyes meet his, that familiar warmth settling over him as Buck’s smile gets bigger, and he feels good enough, relaxed enough, that it actually soaks into his skin. Buck’s gaze flits down to Eddie’s arm where it’s still bracketing Chris, a crease appearing right between his eyebrows. The urge to lean over and kiss it away is unbelievably sudden and strong, and Eddie silently congratulates himself for keeping it together.

“Your ink looks a little faded there, Eds. I can fix it up for you, if you want.”

Eddie looks at the script on his arm, twisting it back and forth to see the whole thing. Buck’s right, the ink does look duller. Makes sense for a tattoo he got on his 18th birthday that he definitely didn’t take care of properly.

Fortalecer la mente y superar el cuerpo. Strengthen the mind and overcome the body. When he was young and invincible, that seemed like all he needed. A clear head, clear purpose, clear desires, and he’d be able to do anything he wanted. If he followed the rules and did everything right, he’d get a happy ending.

But, once again, it hadn’t been enough. And now, looking at that tattoo just reminds him of the ways he’s failed. How he hasn’t been able to make his mind into anything resembling strong, how there are days when he’s so weak even basic functions take too much effort. How a happy ending is feels so far away he can’t remember what one even looks like.

He shrugs, hand rubbing the tattoo unconsciously. “Maybe, I kinda just want to let this one fade out though. Maybe get a different one somewhere else.”

“Well, my offer of a free tattoo still stands, just name the day.” Buck says.

Chris gasps and twists around in his seat, eyes bright with excitement. “Can I help you pick it out? Can I draw it? I’m good at lots of stuff now, and Buck can help!”

And he’s not sure what it is — the smile on Chris’s face at the idea, Buck’s matching one, the lingering frustration with his parents transforming into rebellion (something he hasn’t felt since he last got a tattoo), or a combination of the three. But before he can think too hard about it, he hears himself saying:

“You know what? Why not. I’ll get another tattoo, and you guys can design it.”

They cheer and high five each other, Chris hugging Eddie tight around the middle.

“But,” Eddie says, “I do want final approval. And no cartoon characters.”

“I promise, Dad, it’ll be the best tattoo ever!” Chris grabs his nearby notebook and starts doodling, chattering happily about what he thinks will look good. Buck catches his eye again and winks, and Eddie’s returning smile is the easiest it’s ever been.

He grabs the boxes he came back for and goes to the front, still smiling as he hears Buck and Chris very seriously discuss the details of what Eddie should get. He’s not nervous, really, but he does say a silent prayer to whoever is listening that they don’t pick something too big or too bold. He loves them both, but not that much.

~~~~~~~~~~

They take about a week to design it and are so secretive they might as well be planning a jewel heist. It seems like every time Eddie walks into a room, they’re there with their heads pressed together, whispering over sheets of paper and pens. When Eddie tries to sneak a peek, they quickly hide everything away so he can’t see. Buck throws his whole body on the table at one point just to cover up the sketches.

Again, he’s not nervous. But the anticipation does start to get to him.

Finally, after a busy Saturday full of wedding deliveries, they announce that the design is complete, and Eddie is scheduled at Armageddon the following Friday evening. Chris already has a sleepover with Denny that night and won’t be able to come, but he makes Eddie double pinky promise to send pictures to Hen as soon as it’s done.

It’s Friday now, and Eddie is all set up at Buck’s station in the back of the shop, waiting to see the final product of Buck and Chris’s hard work. He is a little nervous now, but he mostly blames that on Buck, who keeps looking over the sketchpad, pen in hand like he wants to make last minute changes, or like something isn’t quite right.

“Just show me, Buck,” Eddie says after a few minutes of watching Buck bite his lip in worry. Whatever the design is, he’s sure he’ll love it, if for no other reason than because of the two people who made it.

“Okay, okay. You can be honest if you don’t like it, but I think you’re gonna like it.”

He flips the paper over, turning it towards Eddie. It’s a crescent of flowers, an unfinished wreath, featuring moonflowers, Eddie’s favorite, with their starburst centers spiraling open, and ox-eye daisies, which he knows Chris loves. Sprigs of lavender and thyme fill in the gaps, and there’s a small bee floating around the center. It’s beautiful and a little chaotic, but it’s perfect. Reminders of his son and peace and courage that he’ll be able to carry with him always, that he’ll be able to look at when he forgets that he is capable of bravery or deserving of peace. He stares at the sketch, taking in every detail, for who knows how long. Buck clears his throat to get his attention.

“Chris thought the daisies and moonflowers would look good together, and they’re both white so no need for color. I thought the herbs would be nicer than just plain leaves. And he wanted it in a ‘C’ shape, you know, for Christopher.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “And the bee?”

“Chris thought that would be cute, too, but you can nix that if you want.” There’s a faint blush dusting Buck’s cheeks as his eyes track down to the bee in question. “So, what do you think? Any major changes? You can tell me if you hate it, I won’t tell Chris.”

He looks up and Buck’s eyes are excited and worried all at once. Eddie would do anything to take the worry away, but at least this time it’s an easy fix.

“I don’t hate it, it’s perfect,” he says, handing the sketch back to Buck and settling back in the chair. “Let’s do this.”

Buck smiles brightly as he grabs an antiseptic wipe, holding Eddie’s right arm steady as he wipes down the area just below his elbow crease where the tattoo will go. Eddie knew he wanted it there as soon as he’d agreed to get one — he’d be able to see it easily when he needed to, and he liked that it matched the placement of his current one, would almost be replacing it if the words ever fully faded away. Once it’s cleaned, Buck puts a temporary transfer of the design there to trace over, starts up the tattoo machine, and loads the ink. The low buzzing of the machine mixes with the music playing and soft conversation coming from other clients in the shop, washing over Eddie like white noise.

Buck takes his arm again, machine in hand, and locks his eyes on Eddie. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“You can yell if it hurts too bad, just try not to pass out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, says “It’ll be—” before cutting off with an involuntary hiss as the needle touches his skin. Buck snorts, and Eddie does his best to glare but feels it fall short.

He hadn’t worried about the pain — he vaguely remembered the sensation of being stabbed over and over again and didn’t remember it hurting that bad. He had also been shot before, so he figured he’d be able to handle it.

What he hadn’t taken into account was that for the next two hours or so, he and Buck would be very close together, close enough that Eddie can feel Buck’s breath on his arm as he traces over the outline, feels his strong hand on his wrist as he keeps Eddie from twitching. He had never been this close to Buck, had never allowed himself to be, and now that he is, he’s not sure how to act. He tries to look anywhere else, takes in the art on the wall, watches the other clients with Maddie and Chimney. He tries to make a to-do list for the weekend in his head, go over the things Chris will need for school next week, mentally figure out the designs for next week’s orders.

It’s all in vain, though, because no matter what, his eyes always drift back to Buck. From here, he can take in everything, and for once, he lets himself, because who knows when he’ll have this opportunity again.

Buck’s brow is furrowed in concentration, blue eyes dark as they focus. He can almost count every eyelash, and his birthmark stands out even more than usual, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. Eddie itches to reach out and touch it, feel how soft he imagines Buck’s skin to be under his fingertips. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp and beautiful, and Eddie wonders again how anyone could resist them. How someone could look at this man, have even one conversation with him, and decide they didn’t want more. He’s biting his lip as he finishes the first moonflower, and it turns and even darker pink as he releases it. Eddie gets a little lost imagining how those lips would feel on his, how gentle and warm and good. He imagines feeling them on his shoulder as they wake up on a Saturday morning, sees them laughing as they both make breakfast, trading kisses as they go. He wants to taste them, feel them moving down his neck, down his chest, wrapping around his—

He inhales quickly and shakes his head, because this is not the time nor the place to go down that particular road. Thankfully, Buck’s still in his own little world, eyes never leaving Eddie’s arm. He must mistake Eddie’s movement for discomfort, because he moves his free hand down from his wrist until they’re holding hands, Buck’s thumb moving slowly back and forth in comfort.

“You can squeeze if it hurts too bad,” he mutters, still not looking up. Thank god too, because Eddie can feel his face go bright red and his heart start working overtime.

The first pass takes about an hour, and they take a break so Eddie can stretch his legs and Buck can get more ink. There’s still some detailing left to do, but Eddie already can’t stop staring at the tattoo. It looks even better than the sketch, and having a tribute to his son literally branded on his skin fills a fiercely paternal part of him like nothing else ever has. There’s also a smug part that’s still 17 years old and can’t wait to see the looks on his parents’ faces when they have their next video call.

Buck finishes getting set up again and Eddie settles back in the chair. It’s quieter now — they’re the only two on the floor, Maddie and Chimney having finished up and moved to the back room, and the music playing over the speakers is something slower, stripped down, seems to filter into the room and soften all the hard edges of the world. Buck catches his eye from where he’s sitting, asking silent permission to start. Eddie nods, and he feels his heart swell when Buck automatically grabs his hand again.

He’s got maybe 45 more minutes in this proximity to Buck, and he takes full advantage: notes the way his curls are starting to fall loose after a long day, tries to catalogue each shift of his face, every twitch of concentration, the shadow of his stubble growing in. Getting to study him like this — memorize the details of the beautiful face that houses an even more beautiful soul — makes all the feelings Eddie’s been trying to fight for months now bubble to the surface, fizzing inside of him like pop bubbles.

But there’s a chill that settles in as well, because despite his heart desperately pulling him towards this man, he reminds himself once again that he can’t have this. He can’t let himself have this, can’t do that to Buck. He’s supposed to be forgetting about his feelings, releasing them so they can both be happy — Buck with someone who deserves him and Eddie...alone. With Chris, but still. Alone. And now he has to wrestle with that while a slide show of Buck’s every facial feature plays through his head on a likely infinite loop.

He can’t forget as easily as he thought. If he’s honest, there’s a small, hopeful part of himself that doesn’t want to forget, that never wanted to forget, and it’s getting louder and harder to ignore with each passing minute.

“Done!” Buck says as he turns off the machine and wipes away the last of the excess ink. Eddie looks at the finished product, a soft smile settling on his lips. He looks up and sees Buck watching him, looking hopeful. “What do you think?”

Eddie’s finger hovers over a daisy reverently. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers, smile spreading as he meets Buck’s eye again. “Thank you, Buck.”

Buck returns the smile, squeezing Eddie’s hand where they’re still clasped together, neither of them moving to let go. They’re still in each other’s bubble, close enough that Eddie can still count Buck’s eyelashes, and he watches Buck watch him for a moment. His eyes roam his face like he too is cataloging Eddie from here, and that hopeful voice is convincing him that from where they’re sitting, it’d be so easy to lean in and confirm exactly what Buck tastes like, how his lips would feel under his own. Just six inches away from allowing himself to be happy, because he can’t imagine being anything else with Buck.

His phone goes off from his pocket, immediately bursting the bubble, both of them flinching as the loud trill fills the shop. They both know it’s Chris, but he still looks at Buck apologetically, like it’s his fault for shattering whatever atmosphere they’d just been living in. Buck just waves toward the phone, squeezing his hand one more time before letting go to clean up his station. He talks to Chris for a bit, showing him the tattoo from every angle, and Chris talks to Buck as well, gushing about what a great job Buck did. Buck blushes at the praise, and that tug of want pulls at Eddie again.

They hang up and Eddie gathers his things while listening to Buck’s strict aftercare instructions, both heading to the front door so Buck can lock up.

“Are you sure I can’t pay you?” Eddie asks.

“I told you it was on the house and I meant that. Plus it’s nice to work on someone I actually care about.”

Eddie feels his face get warm, hopes the neon lights in the window are bright enough to cover it up. It gets warmer as they continue looking at each other, neither willing to break their little bubble again. He thinks he sees Buck move more toward him, like he wants to get closer, but he stops himself before following through, leaning back on his heels instead, looking sheepish.

“Goodnight, Eddie. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eddie waves as he leaves, stepping into the cool night to walk back to the apartment. He keeps glancing down at his arm on the walk and while he’s getting ready for bed, thinking of the care Chris and Buck both put into creating it. That small voice in his head keeps nagging him, saying Buck wouldn’t do something like this, something this personal, for just anyone. He complains about his clients enough for Eddie to know that’s true.

Maybe the voice is on to something. As he falls asleep, Eddie lets himself think that maybe, maybe, on top of everything, on top of two years of friendship and flowers and looks that make Eddie’s insides flutter, maybe these feelings he’s been trying to ignore aren’t as one sided as he thought.

Maybe he has a chance.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fox #buddie fic #9-1-1 fic #YES this is the longest chapter because i can't stfu about buck #WHATEVER

24 notes · View notes

etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

Run To You - Chpt.5

Summary: Bucky & Steve’s date has some unintended consequences forcing Bucky to make some hard decisions. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: Attempted child abduction. Emphasis on ATTEMPTED. Becca will be fine ya’ll.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Remember last chapter where I was like “oh hey enjoy this unusually large chapter”? Well, I went to write a normally sized chapter and my hand slipped. Whoops! Enjoy another giant beast chapter lovelies! And don’t hate me for the angst!! I promise this fic has a happy ending, it’s just a long road to get there. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Five

Bucky wakes to bright light streaming in his bedroom window and Becca sitting on top of him. “Wake up sleepy head!” she chirps, shoving his shoulder as hard as she can.

“Whoa, calm it down little miss.” Bucky grumbles.

“I’m gonna be late!”

Bucky looks over at the alarm clock and realizes she’s right. “Shit.”

“Bad word!!”

“Becca!” Bucky snaps and instantly regrets it. “Quieter, bug. Please. Come on, let’s get moving.”

Bucky hurries Becca through her morning routine, grabbing her tiny backpack and breakfast on their way out the door. Bucky knows he’s a mess, hair sloppily thrown up in a bun, sweatpants and a hoodie because he just can’t take the time to find real clothes. He doesn’t even bother to throw on his prosthetic. Becca nibbles at her string cheese and mini muffins as they hustle down the busy city sidewalks to her school, just finishing as they round the last corner. He gives her a quick hug and kiss before she runs into the building screeching hello to the teacher at the door. The teacher gives Bucky an odd look that he chalks up to him looking like a hot mess and he gives her a small wave and terse smile in return.

It’s early yet and Bucky doesn’t have to worry about work for a few more hours so he decides to splurge and stop for coffee and a breakfast sandwich on his walk home. One treat won’t hurt and he’s still holding on to the warm feeling in his chest from last night’s date with Steve. Waiting in line a few other people give Bucky strange looks and he wonders how rough of shape he’s in. He prays there isn’t a giant rip on his clothes or something but after a discrete check he doesn’t think that’s the case. Just a weird morning then.

The hoodie actually comes in handy once Bucky realizes he can’t carry both a sandwich and his coffee when he’s down an arm. Tucking the sandwich in his hoodie pouch, he sips the pumpkin spice latte slowly enjoying the sweet fall flavors on his way home. His phone starts chirping at him but with no free hand Bucky is forced to ignore it until he gets back to the apartment. It was going off earlier too and he figures who ever needs him so damn bad can just wait five more minutes.

Bucky stretches out on the sofa to enjoy his breakfast, throwing on a random movie from his queue, when he finally looks at his phone. He wonders if the world is ending and he missed it somehow. Eight missed calls from Steve, two voicemails, and four texts. Two calls from Natasha, one voicemail, and two texts. Three texts from Clint.

Natasha wants to know if he’s seen the news, if he’s okay, and what she can do to help.

Clint also asks if he’s okay and tells him he’s an ass for not sharing the deets.

Steve asks him repeatedly to call him, frantically apologizing in between.

Still confused and becoming increasingly worried, Bucky brings up the news on his phone and finds his own face on the front page. The picture is from the night before, he and Steve walking back to his place with Becca on Steve’s shoulders. They look so happy that it tugs at Bucky’s heartstrings before the realization of what this means sinks in. He shoots a quick text to Natasha assuring her that he’s fine and he’ll catch up with her tonight. Clint gets two emojis in response: a thumbs up and the middle finger. Steve, he actually calls back. The blonde had sounded so worried in his voicemails.

“Bucky, thank god.” Steve blurts out in lieu of hello.

“Well good morning to you too.” Bucky jokes.

“Are you okay? Is Becca okay?”

“Yeah, Steve, we’re good. I just dropped Becca off a preschool. I don’t know what you’re worried about, it was a normal morning outside of a few funny looks. But honestly that was probably me going out looking like a hobo because I overslept.”

“Buck…” Steve falters, “It won’t be long ‘til they figure out who you are. We can keep the press at bay here in the tower but you’re going to have some serious issues as soon as a reporter gets your name. You and Becca could come stay here for a bit or I can have a security team allocated to you both until the news dies down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down a minute. We don’t need security and I’m not dragging Becca to Manhattan just because some dudes with cameras may or may not come pester us. We’ll be okay.”

“I’m just worried about you guys. You didn’t sign on for the shit storm that’s blowing up right now. I’m so sorry, Buck.”

“Actually, I did.” Bucky points out, “I’m not stupid, Steve. I knew what I was signing on for the minute we started talking. It’s gonna be okay, nothing lasts forever and Becca is a resilient kid.”

Steve is quiet for a long moment, trying to compose himself to say what he knows he needs to say. “If you need to take some time apart until this all dies down…” he chokes up and lets the sentence lie.

“No.” Bucky’s voice is firm. “I’m not running on you again. We’re gonna deal with this together.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs heavily in relief, “I’m going to be tied up today doing interviews. Apparently there’s no hiding the fact that I’m bisexual now. It’s funny that I’ve never tried to hide it but the news is claiming I’ve been ‘publicly outed’ by the tabloids. I’m not going to say a whole lot about you, about us. I don’t want to speak for you or anything. But if you’re okay with it, I would like to confirm that I’m in a relationship and that I care about you very much.”

“Aww, you big sap. Yeah, of course that’s fine.”

“Can I call you later when I have time?”

“I’m working tonight but I’ll have a chance for a quick break around 10pm.”

“I’ll talk to you then. If you need anything, I mean it Buck, anything, just call me. I’ll pick up on national TV if I have to.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and hopes Steve can feel his exasperation through the phone lines. “Get going, ya punk. You have a country full of conservatives to horrify with your secret homosexual agenda.”

Steve laughs, the first bit of happiness he’s had since waking up to the news. “Will do.” he says quickly and hangs up before his overly dramatic heart can blurt out something terribly stupid like I love you. He pushes down the tender, fledgling emotion, knowing it’s too fast but feeling the gentle flutters nonetheless.

Natasha arrives at Bucky’s apartment a full hour early that night so he can get her caught up while making dinner for her and Becca, while Becca watches an episode of Wonder Pets in the living room. Natasha apparently watched a few interview clips of Steve’s and teases Bucky over how completely smitten they both are. It’s nice and normal, the teasing and banter over a new relationship with his best friend. It makes him think Steve really was just being overly concerned with his fears.

It’s a blessedly slow night at the ER and no one seems to recognize Bucky as he hops from one patient to the next, getting people stabilized and ready to be seen by one of the doctors on shift. When Steve calls at ten he sounds better than he had that morning. He’s exhausted from the media circus but pleased that he was able to get the story out in his own words. He asked for privacy for all their sakes but knows it won’t last long. Bucky continues to assure him that they’ll handle things as they come and to not worry. Steve can’t help but feel like it’s the calm before the storm.

The calm only lasts until 2am. Dr. Strange pulls Bucky out of a patient room, pushing Darcy in to take his place and dragging him down the hall to the staff break room. “What the hell?” Bucky demands once the door is shut.

Strange’s face is grim, “There are currently fifteen reporters in the lobby all asking if you’re working and if anyone has a statement they’d like to make.”

Bucky’s stomach drops, “Fuck.”

“Yes, fuck indeed. I’ve already made some calls and the police are on their way to clear house. We don’t expect that to last however. HR is willing to give you the rest of this week off, paid, while we sort out protocol for this sort of thing. Amanda will call you tomorrow to talk details once the board meets and decides what we can do to protect both you and our patients. We obviously can’t have reporters milling around every time you work.”

Bucky doesn’t even know what to say.

“If you want to go gather your things, Paul in security will escort you out the back away from the reporters.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, because really what else can he do?

Darcy catches up with him as he’s packing up his locker, “They’re sending you home?” she cries, pulling him into a hug.

Bucky nods numbly, “Rest of the week, yeah. They have to, there’s too much going on right now. It’s paid at least.”

“Well that’s something.” Darcy concedes. “How are you getting home? It’s a madhouse out there.”

“Paul’s gonna have me go out the back. I’ll be okay.”

“Call me if you need me.” she insists, giving him another tight hug.

Bucky promises he will and then follows the kindly old security guard through the maze of hospital halls and outside.

The air is bitter cold and Bucky’s thankful for his heavy jacket as he hurries down the mostly empty streets home. Natasha is tapping away on her laptop when he arrives. She does cyber security work and swears she gets most of her work done after midnight anyway. It works out well when he needs help on his overnight shift rotations.

“What happened?” she demands and slams the lid of her laptop down.

Bucky shucks off his jacket and joins Natasha on the sofa. “Reporters showed up at the hospital, like a lot of them. Strange was on tonight, thank god, he’s a tough son of a bitch and he wasn’t putting up with crap from anyone. They snuck me out the back while the cops got rid of the reporters.”

“But what about tomorrow? Is this gonna affect your job?”

Bucky shrugs, trying to ignore the low level fear humming in his veins over that exact concern. “I honestly don’t know. HR is gonna call me tomorrow once they figure out ‘protocol’ for this. Somehow Strange got them to give me the rest of the week off with pay. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself for the next six days.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, surprised and happy for him. “I vote catching up on your Netflix queue and being a lazy ass. You never take a break, Bucky. And you of all people deserve one. Maybe go spend some more time with that gorgeous boyfriend of yours. Some kid-free time, if you know what I mean.” She wiggles her eyebrows until Bucky throws a pillow at her. She ducks easily, laughing. “I’m just saying! It’s been a long time since he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

Bucky bristles at the mention of his ex. He should have seen Brock for the piece of shit he was, but he’d missed it at first, too wrapped up in the bliss of a new relationship. In the end, Brock’s true colors had come out and Bucky had ended things before it could become even more toxic than they already become. He sighs, pushing the ugly memories away. “It hasn’t been that long. And you’re forgetting Micah from the hospital cafe.”

“It’s been four years since him. And Micah doesn’t count. That was a year ago and it didn’t go past a lunch date where he, and I quote, kissed you like a St. Bernard.”

Bucky shudders at the memory. “Okay, so it’s been a while. Maybe I will go see Steve one day while Becca’s at school.”

“That’s more like it!” Natasha cheers quietly, cautious to not disturb Becca. “So, do you want company or should I scoot and let you get some rest?”

“I love you for offering but I just wanna crash. If I can get a few hours now I’ll be able to get back on daytime hours easier.”

“Love you too.” Natasha leans over to hug him before packing up her stuff and heading out.

It was a crazy day but as Bucky climbs into bed, he’s still resolved that it’s going to be okay again soon.

Bucky is groggy when his alarm goes off at 7am but it’s better than he would have been if he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Becca is thrilled that he’s home and even more so when he tells her that he’ll be home the rest of the week. They make plans over breakfast for things they can do after she gets out of school since they have all the time in the world now. Bucky compromises with one quick park trip, which he cringes thinking about but he’ll just have to pack her inhaler and make sure she takes breaks, two trips to the library, and one night they’ll grab dinner at the neighborhood diner for their kids eat free night.

The week flies by and Bucky gets the all clear on Thursday to return the following Sunday once the hospital is able to put additional security in place. He’s thankful they’re not just letting him go to avoid all the hassle but several nurses and doctors apparently made their opinions loud and clear that he was worth the additional security measures. Bucky is eternally grateful for his coworkers and makes plans to take in a tray of thank you brownies on his first shift back.

A second round of good news comes in a few hours later; Steve is back early from his latest mission. They make plans for the following day, unwilling to wait any longer to see one another again. Steve will be, in theory, just hanging around the tower wrapping up some post-mission paperwork from earlier in the week so he’ll be able to take most of the day to show Bucky around the tower and spend time with him. He also offered to take them all to The Met after Becca gets out of school and Bucky said he’ll consider it. It’s a little extravagant, but something about picking her up together and going on an outing tugs at his heartstrings. It’s so perfectly domestic, like a real family would do. Bucky tries to ignore the longing he feels for something he’s never let himself consider before.

There’s a lone reporter lingering outside his apartment when Bucky heads out to pick up Becca from school. There were a lot the first two days but their numbers dropped off drastically when they realized he really wasn’t all that interesting. “Hey man.” Bucky gives the reporter a little wave. He has to give the guy credit for determination. “Still not going to do anything interesting, sorry.”

The reporter huffs a laugh, “Ya never know!”

Bucky laughs in return and heads off, trying to ignore the fact that the man is following him a few steps back. He gives the guy a few more days before he gives up too. Bucky is a single parent with a full time job, he doesn’t have the time to do anything interesting.

Rounding the corner to Becca’s school he spies the little girl talking to a man in a long beige wool coat. The man is tall and thin with greying hair and wire framed glasses. His appearance screams of wealth in a way that would make him fit right in as a parent of someone at the school, but something is off and Bucky steps up his pace. Becca hasn’t spotted him yet but he hears the man ask “Your daddy is friends with Captain America isn’t he?”

Becca, all proud smiles, informs him, “He’s my brother, not my daddy. And Captain America is his boyfriend.”

“Isn’t that nice. Hey, I have something you can give your brother for me, okay? Can you be a big helper? It’s right over here.” Becca looks unsure so the man smiles brightly and takes her hand, leading her down the sidewalk away from the school. A black van pulls up at the end of the block, a door swinging open and the man hurries her along.

Bucky screams Becca’s name and breaks out into a full run. Icy fear consumes him, driving him to move faster than he ever has before. Please God no, please, don’t let them take my baby girl.

The reporter realizes what’s going on and sprints right along with Bucky. They collide with the man and Becca at the same time. The reporter tackles the man, pinning him to the ground, leaving Bucky to grab Becca and roll to the ground shielding her in his arms. A teacher runs over with her phone out yelling “The police are on their way!” to them.

The man writhes underneath the reporter, trying to free himself while looking panickedly at the van. The van door slides shut and then the vehicle flies off with screeching tires. Once it’s out of sight the man lays his head back on the pavement in defeat.

“Just stay put buddy.” the reporter grumbles.

Now that Becca is safe Bucky is filled with a depth of rage he didn’t even realize he was capable of. Somebody tried to snatch his baby girl right in broad daylight. Bucky checks her over one more time before passing her off to the teacher who’s still holding on the line for 911.

Bucky stalks over to where the reporter still has the man pinned. His movements are predatory, his voice low, practically a grow, when he demands, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The reporter just stares at the man, also waiting for an answer.

“I am one of many.”

Bucky shakes his head. God, he just wants to punch this guy in his smug face. “Fine. Who do you work for?”

“Cut off one head and two more take its place.”

“I’m getting real sick of riddles and I still got at least two minutes before the cops show. Last time, asshole. Who the fuck do you work for and why do you want my kid?”

“The child, or you, it matters not. Either will get us the captain. We are everywhere. We will come again, and we will succeed. Hail Hydra.” The man crunches down on something and within seconds he’s foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling lifeless back in his head.

Bucky looks to Becca, thankful the teacher is shielding her away from what took place. Ice cold fear runs in his veins. He knew there could potentially be a risk dating Steve, but it was an abstract sort of knowledge. Up until minutes ago he’d thought the only real concern was pesky reporters. Most of which, he has to admit, are actually good people just trying to make a living. A real threat, a fucking terrorist threat, is something he’d never really put much thought into. That name too: Hydra. Everyone knows of the Nazi group who Captain America has been trying to destroy since the 40s. A threat from them is very, very real.

The cops arrive and start dispersing the crowd that’s formed. It seems like forever until they’ve taken statements from everyone and the body is removed. Becca holds up as well as a four year old can trying to answer the police man’s questions, and Bucky fills in gaps as he can. They take his statement too and let him know they can provide a security detail if he wants. The officer looks sheepish but also recommends he call Steve because Shield and the Avengers can likely provide better security than the NYPD can. Bucky thanks the officer and agrees to call Steve as soon as possible.

Becca is shaking so hard by the time they head home that Bucky scoops the little girl up to carry her the whole way. Two uniformed officers follow them back and do a full sweep of the apartment just to err on the side of caution. Buck appreciates the security but as he stands in his too quiet apartment he realizes he can’t do this every day. He adopted Becca to give her a better life and now he’s put her in more danger than she ever would have been in being raised by their parents. All because some small part of him still held on to the hope that there was someone out there that he could love and would love him back wholeheartedly and forever. That despite his upbringing, he could have a perfect family of his own one day. Bucky feels painfully childish that his pathetic longing for a partner had almost cost him his sister.

Ever the responsible parent, Bucky stifles the emotions whirling in his chest and puts on a good front for Becca’s sake. She falls asleep halfway through Frozen II and Bucky doesn’t even bother trying to wake her. He knows there’s no fighting the adrenaline crash she’s feeling. His own crash will be equally brutal when it comes, but for now it’s still nowhere in sight. Bucky is too keyed up, restless and desperately trying to find a solution that keeps all of them safe and happy. He drags a cup of coffee and a blanket out onto the fire escape where he sits to watch the sun drop lower and lower among the roof tops. He’s almost finished his drink when a knock sounds on the door.

The security detail is supposed to be vetting anyone going near his apartment so the odds are good it’s someone he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from slipping a kitchen knife into his hand on the way to the door. Peering through the peephole Bucky sees red hair, black leather, and a very pissed off Natasha. “Let me in.” she says, it sounds like a warning.

Bucky opens the door and stands out of the way. It’s not worth arguing with Natasha when she gets like this.

“You turned off your phone.” She comments without emotion.

Bucky nods. “I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

Natasha follows him as he heads to the kitchen to return the knife, seemingly pleased by his caution. “By it, you mean Steve.”

“Amongst other things.”

“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need, just name it.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I keep coming to the same answer and I hate it, Nat. I just… I can’t do this to Becs.” Bucky’s voice cracks on the little girl’s name and Natasha wraps her best friend into a tight hug.

“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

“I don’t even know how to do what I want to do. I’m sure it’s not nearly as easy as movies make it out to be.”

“Let me help. You and Becca mean the world to me. Whatever it is we’ll figure it out together.”

Bucky sighs heavily, still leaning on Natasha. “We need to disappear.”

Natasha goes still, “Are you sure?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I can’t think of any other way to keep her safe. Even if I break up with Steve, Hydra can still use us as leverage. Feelings don’t just disappear... But people can.”

“Okay. Give me four hours.” Natasha pulls back and starts texting rapidly on a small cell phone Bucky has never seen before.

“What the fuck, Nat.”

“Working in cyber security has some perks.” She shrugs.

“I don’t think it’s normally supposed to have those kinds of perks.”

“Well, it depends on who you’re keeping secure.” Nastaha’s smile is cheshire.

“Damn. Okay, then. What do you need me to do?”

“Stay put. I’d say try to get some sleep but I know you won’t. Pack a duffel bag for each of you. No more than that, I mean it. Think in terms of what you absolutely can’t leave behind, this is not packing for vacation. You can buy basic stupid shit when you get where you’re going. Two outfits and whatever else you can’t leave that fits in two duffels. Got it?”

“Okay, got it.”

“Oh, and your phone. You won’t be needing that anymore.”

Bucky holds the phone out but doesn’t let go. “I have all of Becs’ baby pictures on there.”

Natasha gives him an understanding smile. “I’ll move them all to an online cloud storage site. You won’t lose a single one.”

Bucky releases the phone. “Thanks, Nat.”

Natasha hugs him tightly again. “Four hours. Be ready.”

And with that Bucky is left alone in his living room in shock. He supposes he shouldn’t be all that surprised. Natasha has always been a badass. He used to joke she was really a Russian spy and their friendship was just a cover for her real identity. Bucky now wonders now how close to the truth he might have been.

Four hours later, down to the minute, Natasha is striding through his door once again, a large envelope tucked under her arm. There’s no warm welcome or pleasantries, Natasha has her game face on and Bucky is still too rattled to try for levity. Spreading the papers out on the coffee table Natasha organizes everything quickly. “Birth certificates, immigration paperwork, social security cards, school records, medical records, a resume with work history and references, and a quick life history fact sheet for both of you.” She places a wallet from her pocket onto the table as well, flipping it open quickly to show him it’s fully filled with cards, cash, and an ID card.

Bucky scans over the documents, unable to believe she had pulled this off so quickly and how real everything looked. “Sebastian Stan?” he asks, nose wrinkling.

Natasha nods, “Yep, you’re Romanian. You moved here with your daughter Elena when she was two months old. Your wife died in childbirth and so you brought her here to start over.”

He spies the address on the drivers license. “Rochester? Is that where we’re actually going?”

“No, of course not. You and your daughter have recently moved to Cape Elizabeth, Maine. That’s where you’re headed. You’ll be happy to know their local urgent care center is looking for a new triage nurse. The pay is pretty good and it’ll be enough to cover rent for the cute little apartment that you just put a down payment on.” Natasha pulls something from her pocket, it’s flesh colored and rolled up tightly. She hands it over with a simple, “Here, you’ll need this too. Don’t want that guy drawing too much attention to you.”

Bucky stares at the silicone sleeve, realizing it’s a perfect fit for his prosthetic. The details are down to an art, from light arm hairs and tiny freckles. It’s soft enough too that as long as you don’t grasp it very hard, it’ll feel shockingly similar to his right arm. “Damn. You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Of course not. Who do you think you’re dealing with?” Natasha glares at him affectionately.

Bucky chuckles, of course she’s the best at this. She’s been the best at everything since the day they met. “What happens to Bucky and Becca Barnes then?” he’s afraid to ask but he needs to know.

“They got on a flight to Moscow two hours ago. There’s a few nice security officers and cab drivers who will all verify they were sighted leaving the airport about eight hours from now.”

“That works for the rest of the world, but what happens if Steve goes looking? He has an awful lot of friends in high places.”

“Steve isn’t going to go looking right now. And even if he did, the alibi will hold up. Trust me.”

A tiny piece of Bucky’s heart shatters that Steve would just let him go so easily.

Natasha recognizes the look on his face and quickly adds, “He called you non stop after the news broke. Sent you dozens of texts too. You very nearly had the full force of SHIELD and the Avengers on your doorstep if it wasn’t for Tony Stark.”

“What happened?”

“Tony convinced Steve that if you weren’t calling or responding that he was as good as dumped. The rumor mill always hinted their relationship was strained but Tony really is good at kicking Steve when he’s down and Tony played his cards right on this one. Steve has been holed up in his apartment all night, he’s not doing too great.”

It kills Bucky to know he’s putting Steve through this pain, but he’s firm in his decision. He’d be more disappointed in himself but he’s too tired. Things got tough and he’s doing exactly what he’s been doing since he was a kid to protect himself: he’s running. “How do you even know all this?” Bucky asks, realizing Natasha shouldn’t have this level of detail on the goings on at the tower.

“I hacked into the security feed at Avengers Tower. Jarivs was a handful but not more than I could handle. Tony Stark is brilliant but he’s also arrogant, and that’s his downfall.”

“You are, without a doubt, the scariest person I’ve ever met. I’m gonna miss you.” Bucky can’t hold back the tears at the thought of leaving Natasha behind.

“What do you mean, miss me? You went to college with Natalie Rushman, you’re even Instagram friends. You haven’t seen me in a few years but we still keep in touch regularly.” Natasha brings out yet another little black phone he’s never seen and shows him Natalie’s Instagram account.

“How many of those little phones do you have tucked up your sleeve?” he teases.

“The world will never know.” she quips in return. “I do need to go though.” she adds in a more serious tone.

Bucky nods, he knew this was coming. He can’t get words past the lump in his throat.

“You have a train to catch in about forty minutes. That one will take you as far as Boston and there’s more tickets from there. Try and get some rest, you’ll be getting into town in Maine around eight in the morning.”

“I’ve gone longer without sleep pulling doubles at the hospital, this won’t be nearly as bad.”

Natasha gives him a half hearted smile, “You’re all set then.”

Bucky pulls her in for one last hug. “I’ll message Natalie when we arrive.”

“Mmm, yes. Sebastian would definitely snap a pic of his new hometown when he arrives. I’ve heard it’s very Insta-worthy.” Tears shine in Natasha’s eyes but they don’t fall. She swallows thickly. “Be safe.”

“You too.” Bucky manages to croak out through the overwhelming tide of emotions. He holds her for one last heartbeat before she slips out the door like a ghost.

Bucky goes through all the documents Natasha left behind and finds a thin red iPhone in the stack. There’s a post-it note stuck on top warning “do not activate until after you are on the second train”. So much for keeping himself occupied while he waits. In the end he spends most of the time pacing around the apartment and double checking his bags. He checks the time again, making sure he’s down to the final few minutes when he finally goes to get a sleeping Becca from her bed. She barely stirs as he carefully slides her into her warm purple jacket and slips socks and shoes on her feet. He slings her over his shoulder and collects the two duffels with his free hand. It’s a little jarring to see tan skin where he’s used to seeing shiny steel but he appreciates that Natasha thought of everything.

He worries momentarily about the security detail outside his apartment but quickly realizes they’re distracted helping an elderly woman catch her escaped pomeranian who’s barking up a storm. It’s a good diversion, one clearly planned out. Bucky holds on tightly to Becca and all but runs down the hall to the stairwell. He doesn’t slow down until he’s two blocks away and he realizes he really did escape without being sighted. Slowing his pace to a normal New York hustle, he heads towards the train station and to their new lives.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes #non winter soldier bucky barnes #captain america steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #parent!bucky #nurse!bucky #becca barnes #kid!becca barnes

12 notes · View notes

anxiousboi-char · 4 years

Text

Egoshiptober, Day 3 - Café

Now, this one ended up being a bit longer than my other ones but like,,, I feel like it’s still good so here ya go, another story for another day with another ship.

Pairing: heroaverage (Jackie x Chase)

Words: 1200, apparently

Warnings: None

Jackie was running down the street, glancing down at his wrist every couple of moments before swearing under his breath and speeding up. This was supposed to be his and Chase’s first official date and he was meant to get there 5 minutes ago. Maybe it wasn’t much time, but he was afraid that his partner would leave before he manages to get there and explain himself. He tried to fix up his hair and straighten his hoodie on his way, but it obviously wasn’t too successful with him running in the meantime.

Finally, he reached the café they were supposed to meet at, but he couldn’t see Chase anywhere outside. He felt anxiety fill him, but he figured he might as well check inside before he goes home and tries to text him. He pushed the door to the building open and walked inside, looking around. Finally, he saw a familiar person sitting in a corner with an empty chair in front of them and he felt relief wash over him.

“Jackie! Over here!” Chase waved at him as soon as he noticed him enter. The hero clumsily made his way towards the table with a smile forming on his face.

“Hi, Chase, it’s… great to see you,” he greeted a bit awkwardly. It was his first date in forever and he wasn’t sure how else to start. Chase chuckled at that greeting, but didn’t seem to mind it.

“It’s great to see you too, Jackie. Sit down, I got you a drink already,” he answered, pointing to a cup sitting on the table next to the free chair. Jackie looked at it and a surprised expression appeared on his face.

“Whoa, that’s actually my favorite drink! How did you know that?” he gasped, not able to hide amazement in his voice.

“A man has his ways,” Chase winked. “You mentioned it some time ago,” he gave an actual answer after a bit of silence. He was worried that it came off wrong, but Jackie was just too amazed to speak at first.

“That’s really sweet of you,” he said finally, sitting down in the chair that was left for him. “And I’m sorry for being late but-” he tried to explain himself, but before he could, he accidentally knocked a sugar bowl off the table.

Thanks to his sharp senses, he realized just in time to reach down and grab it before it could hit the ground and shatter, making a mess. However, Chase’s reaction was just as fast and the two tried to grab it at the same time. Luckily for them, they didn’t hit their heads and the sugar was caught in the air, but while Chase ended up holding it, Jackie only managed to put his hand on top of his.

“N-nice catch!” Jackie chuckled, backing his hand away and doing his best not to blush. Even if those were just their hands touching, it did make him a bit flustered.

“You were quick too,” Chase smiled, setting the sugar bowl back on the table. He didn’t comment on Jackie’s expression and seemed to be far less nervous about this date. “So, you were saying?”

“Yeah, I wanted to apologize for being late,” Jackie repeated, his expression getting a bit more somber. “I just got my ass kicked in a fight and the bad guy got away and I had to quickly change at my apartment and then I still tried to look around because I was worried that they followed me and would do something and-” he tried to explain, but he grew more nervous as he spoke.

“Hey,” Chase said, stopping him from rambling more by gently grabbing his hand under the table. “It’s alright, Jackie. I’m not mad, and I’m sure you’ll get them next time,” he said softly, looking into Jackie’s eyes. That alone seemed to reassure the hero enough to replace his troubled expression with a sheepish smile.

“Thanks… I guess I will,” he agreed hesitantly.

“I’m sure you will, we both know what you can do,” Chase clarified. “But for now, just relax. We can worry about that later,” he added. Jackie nodded and took a deep breath, pushing the anxiety away.

“You’re right. So, how was your day?” he asked, getting the conversation on a more normal track. Still, they kept holding hands under the table.

The two ended up talking for hours and ordered quite a number of drinks in the meantime, but they both could agree that they had a great time. The slight tension from the beginning of their date quickly disappeared between the sweet talks and funny stories they both shared and they almost didn’t notice the time pass. Only when most of the other customers left the café and the place was growing awfully quiet, they noticed that it was already dark outside and the place would probably close soon.

“Well, won’t you look at the time… I guess we’ll need to get going soon,” Chase sighed quietly. Jackie glanced down at his watch and had to take a double-take.

“Oh. Yeah… So, who’s paying? I gladly will,” he offered. Chase shook his head.

“Nah, I’ve got it,” he assured, digging through his pocket to find his wallet.

“How about we split the money in two?” Jackie suggested, already holding his. Chase considered it for a moment before nodding.

“Alright, that seems fair,” he agreed.

Still holding hands, they got up from the table and walked over to the register to pay. After a couple of minutes of waiting in a queue, they finally got to do it and left the café, walking down the street until they’d reach the subway station, where they’d have to say their goodbyes. Chase had to take the subway while Jackie’s easiest way to get back home was simply walking there. And unfortunately, they soon got to their destination.

“Thank you for today, Jackie. It was really lovely,” Chase thanked him, looking off into the street as if he was in thought.

“Thank you too, this was probably the best day of my life,” Jackie admitted. And then, remembering a tip he received quite some time earlier, he leaned over to give him a small kiss on a cheek. Unexpectedly, Chase turned away from the street and looked back at him.

“So when are we doing this aga-” he tried to ask before he was cut off by a very sudden kiss.

Both Chase’s and Jackie’s cheeks turned bright red, but none of them tried to pull away at first. They did so only after a moment, mostly because they were not prepared for that at all. For a moment, they were too flustered to say anything else, but eventually Jackie took a step back and nervously rubbed his neck, looking at Chase with an embarrassed smile.

“So… I’ll text you later?” he said without certainty. A grin appeared on Chase’s face after a moment longer of being astounded.

“I sure hope you will,” he answered with a small chuckle, his cheeks still brightly red.

“I- I promise,” Jackie confirmed before taking a couple of steps back and, before Chase knew it, disappearing somewhere.

And while they both headed in different directions, they both thought about just one thing: That date was the best decision of their lives.

#egoshiptober #fic.char #My brain just up and died near the end and I forgot how paying in cafes works like so just ignore that alright?#heroaverage #chase x jackie #jackie x chase #jackie #JackieBoy #jackieboy man #jse jbm #chase #chase brody #jse chase #My writing #ego shipping

7 notes · View notes

star-spangled-steve · 5 years

Text

His New Partner

Chapter 4: The Goodnight Kisses

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 3684

Warnings: Pure fluff, kissing, the reader sings, talk of virgin!Reader, talk of virgin!Steve, one cuss word.

Audio: “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers

A/N: I guess I got a bit carried away with this one, didn’t I?

“You know, I used to dabble in a little acting myself.” Steve said to Y/N as he was walking her back to her apartment.

They were returning from Central Park, where they had just had a picnic. Steve had bought them sandwiches, salad, and fresh fruit for dessert. He wanted to try something a little different for the second date, and Y/N thought it was just the sweetest idea.

“Really? You? How so?” She asked him, having a hard time believing what Steve was telling her.

“Well,” he started, “back when I had first gotten the serum and they wouldn’t let me fight in the war yet, they had me doing all these live shows and action films.”

“Not exactly your thing?” Y/N asked, knowingly.

“I guess you could say that.” Steve agreed. “But the audience loved me!”

She laughed at his comment, having no doubt that people could find charm in this man.

They had just arrived at the front door of her building, and it was time for them to part once again.

“This is it.” Y/N said. “I had a really fun time again, Steve.”

“So did I.” He smiled. “Are we still on for next Saturday?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Great.” He said before leaning down and kissing her left cheek. “Have a nice evening, Y/N.”

“Wait, Steve.”

Just as he was about to walk away, she stood on her tippy toes and lightly grabbed his face, pulling it down to her level. Steve sucked in a breath, thinking that they were about to kiss. Something that he had been wanting to do for a while, just was too nervous to. But instead, Y/N gave two little kisses, one on each cheek.

“Have a nice evening too.” She told him before unlocking the door and walking inside.

All Steve could do was stand there for a couple seconds, dreaming about the feel of her lips on his skin, and wonder what they would feel like on his own. Next time, he’d have to find out for himself.

*****

It was Saturday night, the night of Steve and Y/N’s third date. They had gone to this way too fancy, way too expensive restaurant. Which was of course, Tony Stark’s idea.

“You need to really wow her.” Tony said as he was tinkering with one of his suits.

“Wow her? What does that even mean?” Steve asked him. “I’m pretty sure that she’s been enjoying herself.”

“I never said that she wasn’t enjoying herself. I just said that if you really want a few good kisses, you might need to put in some extra work.”

“I’m not going to buy her affection, Tony.” Steve stated.

“Not buy, just… persuade.”

Steve huffed out a breath. He knew Y/N was not the kind of girl to be overly materialistic about things. But, it would be nice to treat her.

“… What’s this place called again?”

All in all, the date had gone pretty well. Steve had told her to wear something fancy, and of course Y/N delivered. She looked beautiful as ever in her pink satin slip dress and beige stilettos. Steve also looked incredibly handsome, wearing a dark grey suit with no tie. That way he could leave the first couple buttons of his white dress shirt undone, something Natasha had told him to do.

They spent the evening taking about Y/N’s family, her job, Steve’s childhood in the 1940’s, his current Avenger friends, as well as his old best friend, James Barnes. Y/N was an extremely good listener when he talked about how it was hard to accept the fact that Bucky was gone, even holding Steve’s hand when he looked a bit choked up.

They were now once again walking back to her apartment. The meal was just delicious as it was pricey, and Y/N had even offered to split the bill. But Steve, being the old-fashioned man he was, told her he had it covered.

“Steve!” Y/N laughed. He had just told her that Tony was the one who told him to ‘wow’ her, and of course she found that pretty ridiculous. “You know that it doesn’t matter where you take me, right? I just enjoy spending time with you.”

Ah, so polite, Steve thought. Her genuine kindness was one of his favourite qualities about her.

“But you did have fun?” He asked.

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands and then up at his face before saying “Yes, I always do.”

They were so lost in the moment that they barely even noticed they were at her building.

This is it, Steve thought to himself. This is his chance. Y/N looked like an angel standing right infront of him. Her lips, painted a rosy pink, looked just to die for.

Y/N looked at his handsome face, seeing uncertainty on it. Steve, so out of practise, often didn’t know what the common ways of dating were. Luckily though, she was always patient and understood that he sometimes just needed to take his time.

After a moments wait, he finally made the move he’s been dying to make.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asked so quietly, it was practically a whisper.

All Y/N could do was nod, too lost in his crystal blue eyes to do say anything else.

Steve took this as his queue and slightly leaned down. His big, warm hands felt like heaven on her face. But that was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on hers.

The only word you could use to describe this moment was ‘home’. A home that Y/N has been looking for in this big, big city. A home that Steve has been looking for in this new, different time. A home the they could only find in each other.

They when finally broke away for air, the first thing on both of their faces was a huge smile.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” Steve told her, still maintaining eye contact.

Y/N, out of breath, told him “Me too.”

He finally slipped his hands off her cheeks, and brought them down to her own hands for a quick squeeze before separating.

“I’ll see you next time, dollface.”

“See you next time, Steve.”

*****

And the next time came very quickly.

Both Y/N and Steve were free on the coming Wednesday, so here they were back in Central Park. Except this time instead of a picnic, Steve bought them ice cream from a local shop and they were doing a walk and talk.

“Wait a minute. So you’re telling me that he was trying to replicate the serum they used on you?” The shocked girl asked as she licked her ice cream.

“Yup.” Steve answered, enjoying his own.

“Do we know where he went wrong?” Y/N questioned.

“I don’t think that anyone knows.”

“That’s a shame.” She said. “Bruce sounds like a real nice guy.”

“‘Ya know what? One day when you meet him, you should tell him that. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” Steve said.

“Meet him?”

“Well, ya.” He stated like it was obvious, before finishing his cone. Steve led her to the nearby garbage can to throw out the napkin he was using to hold it. “You’ll meet them all eventually, right?”

Y/N hadn’t even thought about that before, too wrapped up in Steve himself. The thought made her slightly nervous inside. “I-I guess so. Do you think they’ll like me?” She asked, finishing her treat and too throwing out the napkin.

“I think…” he wrapped his left arm around her shoulders “they’ll love you.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” Y/N laughed. “Don’t want to get on the wrong side of Earth’s Mightiest Her-Uh oh.”

And unexpectedly, it started to rain.

“Darn it!” Steve exclaimed. “I checked the weather, though.”

“It’s alright.” She assured him, trying to shield herself from the downpour.

“No, it’s not. I ruined our fourth date.” He puffed. “We should probably get inside.” He started to steer them in the opposite direction.

“Wait-wait.” Y/N stopped him with a hand to his chest. “I’ve always wanted to kiss in the rain.”

A smile finally made it’s way onto Steve’s face. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Well then how can I say no to that?”

Her arms around his neck, his arms around her waist. Their lips molding together, just as the droplets of rain did with the puddles. It was pure bliss.

*****

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready, Steve.”

“I know that. But, I am ready. One year is long enough to have moved on.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I know how much this means to you.”

“Then you’ll know how happy it makes me to share it with you.” He told Y/N, placing his hand over hers.

The two looked out at the crowded ballroom dance club from their table at the back. They had just finished a delicious pasta dinner, and there was only one thing left to actually do: dance. But of course, that was easier said than done for Steve.

Ever since their third date, Y/N had known how much this meant to him. Steve had told her the story about Peggy, his first love, and their promise to go dancing once the war was over. Now, 67 years later here Steve was, but Peggy wasn’t. She has bound to some hospital in Washington D.C., too old to even properly stand up.

Now here they were, on their fifth date. Steve had thought that taking Y/N dancing would be a great way to officially move on from his past, lift this huge weight off his shoulders. But of course, Y/N didn’t want to pressure him into anything that he wasn’t prepared for quite yet.

“You don’t have to always be brave.” She slowly, quietly told him.

“But, you make me want to be.” Steve sincerely told her. “Look, I really, really like you. And if I want to be all in this relationship, then I have to let go of my past. Please,” he stood up, sticking out his left hand “dance with me?”

Y/N hesitantly nodded, accepting his hand and following him to the dance floor.

“Now I must warn you, I’m not a great dancer.” She told him as they got into position. Her right hand in his left, her other hand on his shoulder, and his other hand placed respectfully on her waist.

“Well then I guess we’ll have to learn together.” Steve chuckled with her.

And you know what? They weren’t half bad. Yes, maybe Steve stepped on her toes a few times. And maybe when he spun Y/N out, she almost tripped when she came back in. But nonetheless, they were pretty good for beginners.

The pair was finally on their fourth song, and by now Y/N’s head was pressed against Steve’s chest, the two much closer than before. Her red dress contrasted beautifully with Steve’s black suit and tie, and overall they looked like a dream.

“You shouldn’t have to let go of it.” Y/N broke the comfortable silence.

“Let go of what?” He asked, eyes still closed.

“Your past.” She paused, letting that sink in. “Move on from it, sure. But don’t let go of it. It’s what makes you who you are.”

Y/N pulled back to look into Steve’s eyes. It feels like she’s done it a thousand times by now, but the sky blue orbs always continue to amaze her.

“Instead,” she suggested, “you should honour it, be thankful for it. If you spend too much time trying to forget your past, you’re going to miss the future that’s right infront of you.”

All that Steve could do was nod, feeling a couple tears starting to well up. Deep down he knew that Y/N was right. He doesn’t have to let go of everything that happened or would have happened or could have happened. He just needs to be thankful that everything went down the way it did, and that he could be here today.

Steve pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, then lead them back to their table to collect their belongings. It was time to go home.

The ballroom dance club that they had went to was very close to Y/N’s building, so there was no need for a ride. Steve would just catch a cab on his way back to Avengers Tower, and before that they would walk.

“You know,” Steve started “this is our fifth date.”

“Ya, and?” Y/N questioned, confusedly.

“You don’t remember?” He laughed.

“Remember what?”

“I believe that several weeks ago you said something along the lines of… hmm what was it? ‘I only sing for guys on the fifth date’.” Steve mimicked, making his voice higher on purpose.

That caused Y/N to halt, stopping their late night stroll.

“You aren’t serious right?” She asked.

“I’m dead serious.”

“No, no, no. But, Steve!” Y/N whined, even though she was giggling at the same time.

They started to walk again, hands still connected and swinging between them.

“But, Y/N!” He said back.

“I was joking when I said that.”

“Well I’m not joking right now.”

By this time they were at the door of her building. She unlocked it, letting him inside after her.

“Fine.” Y/N told him as they approached the elevator. “But you better not laugh at me.”

She pressed the button and they got in after it opened up. She then pressed the button for her floor.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I promise you that I won’t laugh.” Steve told her seriously. “Look, if you really don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. I was just joking.”

“No, no.” She sighed. “I can do this.”

“That’s my girl.”

If Y/N hadn’t been so nervous about what she was about to do, she probably would have blushed at his comment.

The elevator doors opened on her floor and they both stepped out. Y/N lead him down the hall, and they went into her apartment after she unlocked the door.

Her place was just as Steve imagined it would be. It was elegant and fancy, but yet still down-to-earth. Most of the furniture was modern, but yet there was still some timeless pieces. It was also pretty darn big.

“You can make yourself comfortable.” Y/N told him, pointing to the living room area.

“Thanks.” He said as he took off his suit jacket, laying it across the arm of the couch before taking a seat.

“Would you like something to drink?” She asked from the open kitchen.

“No thank you, I’m alright.”

Y/N poured herself a cup of water, knowing what was coming next.

“Alright, so what are you gonna sing me, doll?”

“Well that’s the thing,” she started as she walked into the living room. Her uncomfortable heels were now off, leaving her barefoot. “I don’t know what you know. I don’t want to sing something you’ve never heard of.”

“I’m sure I’ll love anything you sing me.” Steve smiled.

“Hmm, okay.” Y/N thought to herself, searching her brain for any song that he might enjoy. “Oh! I know.” She exclaimed before grabbing her phone to set up the music. “I’m going to sing it in a higher key though, because it’s normally sung by a man.”

“What is it?” He asked.

“Okay, well it’s called ‘Unchained Melody’. It was made in 1965, so a little past your time. But it’s still a similar style to something you might have listened to.” She finished setting up the speakers as she explained.

“Alright N/N, you’re going to be awesome.” Steve encouraged.

“Just a little nervous, that’s all.” She told him truthfully.

“Don’t be. It’s just me.”

But that’s the thing, it’s just him. The guy who she really likes and doesn’t want to judge her.

“Okay.” Y/N let out shakily before taking another sip of water. “Let’s do this.” And with that she pressed play on the instrumental track.

“Oh, my love, my darling

I've hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time”

Her voice is like heaven, Steve thought from his spot on the couch. Man, he felt like he could stay here all day. Sitting in her living room, watching her perform this song for him and only him. Y/N had her eyes closed for most of it, the thought of opening them being too awkward for her to bear.

“Time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Are you still mine?”

After the long high note, she made her way to sit next to Steve on the sofa, figuring it would make the sight less uncomfortable.

“I need your love

I need your love”

Steve had been attracted to Y/N from the moment he met her. Her kindness, her politeness, how passionate she was about everything she did. But right now, with the calm lighting from the one lamp in the corner, the way her perfectly styled hair was starting to fall all over the place, and her lipstick being mostly gone, creating a slight ring around her lips, it was different. As she sang a song about love, about touch, she suddenly looked more beautiful than ever.

“God speed your love to me.”

She finished, not bothering to stop the karaoke track.

“There. I figured I’d only sing a little part. It’s a pretty long song so-“

And then Steve’s lips were on hers.

It wasn’t hesitant, like usual. It wasn’t gentle, either. It was raw and passionate.

This surprised Y/N. Normally Steve would make sure she wanted a kiss first, maybe even ask her. But right now as he was slowly lowering her onto the couch beneath him, nothing felt more right.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around Steve’s neck, as Steve’s hands stayed in their place on her waist. The tune of ‘Unchained Melody’ continued to play in the background, while Steve’s tongue begged for entrance against her lips, and she granted him access. She let him in. Their mouths moved together like a perfect harmony.

But, Y/N had a feeling that this harmony might spread a little lower if things didn’t end quickly.

So, she stopped the most action that Steve had got in… well… ever, by putting her hands on his cheeks and pulling his lips off of hers.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” He apologetically asked her.

“What? No, Ste-“

“Was I too dominating? Did I take too much charge?” He continued.

“Steve, you did nothing wrong.” Y/N told him. “The dominant thing was actually kind of sexy.” She admitted under her breath.

“Okay.” Steve breathed out, wordlessly keeping that last point in his brain for later. “Then what is it?”

“I-Well, I-Oh God, um…” She stuttered.

“Y/N,” he grabbed both of her hands, “you can tell me anything.”

“This is just-This is just normally the part where they freak out and never want to see me again.” She gulped.

“They? Who’s they?” Steve questioned.

“Guys. Men.” She answered, standing up to let some of the energy out, and pause the music while she was at it.

“Look, Y/N,” he stood up and put his hands on her shoulders for comfort, “I’m not going to freak out. I’m going to stay right here, I promise.” He paused. “Unless it’s like some illegal thing or-“

“No, no.” She chuckled. “It’s not, I swear. Um, it’s just uh… I’m still a virgin.”

Steve wondered why would she be so nervous about that. She’s only in her early twenties, and has tons of time ahead of her. “Is that it? That’s not that big of a-“

“No actually, that’s not it.” Y/N interrupted. “See the thing is, I kind of want to wait until things are serious. Like... serious, serious.”

“Like marriage?” Steve asked.

“Not per se, just until I know that he’s… the one.” She stammered.

“Oh.” Steve spoke. “Well that’s-“

“Stupid? Unrealistic?” Y/N listed as she sat back down on the couch, head in her hands. “Trust me, I’ve heard it all.”

“Actually,” he sat back down next to Y/N and put his arm around her, “I was going to say really cool.”

“Are you serious?” She looked up at him.

“Yes, I’m serious. Now can I tell you a secret?” He requested.

Y/N nodded.

Steve leaned in and whispered “I’m a virgin, too.”

“For real?” She exclaimed.

“Yes.” He laughed. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know, I just figured there would be lines of women trying to get a chance with you.” Y/N quipped.

“Well that’s very sweet, doll. But, what you’re forgetting is that I wasn’t always like… this.” Steve gestured down to his body. “And once I was, I spent all of my time fighting. Too busy for such things.”

“What about this past year?”

He took a moments pause, trying to collect this thoughts. “I was just trying to find myself, not anybody else.”

“I get that.” Y/N stated, grabbing his hand sympathetically. After a moment, she broke the silence by saying “Looks like we’re just a bunch of virgins, aren’t we?”

“And we can continue to be if that’s what you wish.” Steve honestly told her, looking into her E/C eyes.

“Look, Steve, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You aren’t. Listen, beautiful,” he brought their intertwined hands up to his lips, and placed a kiss on the back on Y/N’s, “you’re worth the wait.”

She puffed out a breath, suddenly having a few tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Don’t thank me, I just care about you.” He smiled.

Y/N leaned in and placed a short kiss on his lips before separating. “Oh, and just so you know, the Steve before all of ‘this’, was pretty damn hot too.”

All he could do was let out a laugh, place his free hand on her cheek, and go back in for another kiss.

That night Steve took a cab back to the Avengers Tower, respecting Y/N’s decision to wait. He had many thoughts of how thankful he was to find someone like her, and that was enough to keep him busy, anyways.

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!❤️

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans #steve rogers x you #captain america x you #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x y/n #chris evans x y/n #marvel #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

525 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Happy Together : 2

Small World

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Chapter Summary: The reader sees a familiar face.

Notes: For reference to setting, see the previous chapter. As for this one, I hope you have patience. Now, Witness kinda took a few chapters to get to the crux, but this one might take a little longer. ;) But I promise, it’s going to be some very fucked up Steve eventually. In advance, I thank everyone for following along and soon I will start adding to other WIPs one Witness is finished (maybe finally start that Medieval AU lol) <3

Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

You were annoyed that you had wasted time at that restaurant waiting on yet another unreliable and selfish man. You could’ve used the hour finishing your latest commission but instead you spent your Saturday morning on the project. You usually tried to save that day for yourself. Self-employed, you made it a priority to work at least six days a week. You were paid well enough, quite successful as it was, but you liked the security of having a little extra under your belt. Besides, it always made you anxious to think that you could be actually doing something instead of lazing around on your couch watching Netflix.

Plus, you needed the distraction from your self-pity. The humiliation lingered for a few days after and even your work couldn’t erase it entirely. Why hadn’t he come? Was it an innocent case of forgetfulness? Or maybe he had changed his mind after seeing you. Tandi had exchanged your information via Facebook and he had seen your photo the same as you had his. Perhaps he hadn’t been as pleased at the prospect. Ugh, you didn’t even know him. Just forget it!

It was Wednesday and the disappointment was still a speck at the edge of your mind. It was sunny for once, a light jacket over your blouse and jeans as you basked in the warming spring air. You walked merrily to the park, happy to be outside, refreshed almost. You found a place on one of the bench, the melody of birds and interspersed voices of people filling the flowery air. You pulled your tablet and pen from your leather tote and opened up your program, working on the outline of the geometric logo you had started the night before.

Every now and then you looked up from your work and admired the serenity nestled amidst the chaotic city. You crossed your legs, resting your tablet against your knee and continued to draw, the sunlight hugging you. A blur moved across the top of your vision and paused, looming closer and you slowly looked up. The tablet nearly slid off your knee as you spotted the man approaching you. It couldn’t be.

“Hey, it’s you,” Steve greeted, his perfect smile shining brighter than the sky. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name the other night.”

“Um, Y/N,” You answer, shading your eyes from the sun beaming over his shoulder, “You remember me?”

“A face like yours is easy to remember,” He replied coyly, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Yeah, I uh...know,” You admitted shyly, “Thanks again…”

“Oh, it was nothing,” He waved away the gratuity, “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” You shrugged, steadying your tablet across your knee.

“Are you drawing something?” He asked, your tablet half-dimmed as it threatened to lock.

“Yeah. Working actually,” You explained, clicking the sleep button and shifting the screen against your thigh. “I’m a graphic artist.”

“Ah,” He nodded, “Makes sense. It must be fun. Doing something creative like that.”

“It can be,” You answered, “I…” You paused, his eyes never leaving yours. He was so intent on you, as if no one else was in the park. How had he picked you out among the crowd? Half of New York had probably been in his restaurant. You shook away the overly paranoid questions and continued. “Depends on the job, really. I mostly just do corporate logos and designs. Can’t really get paid for what I want to draw.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” He stretched his arm over the back of the bench, you almost didn’t notice as it slid behind you. You were sure it was just a casual gesture, a habit he didn’t give much thought to, but it felt entirely too intimate.

“Life, I guess. People, animals, trees. I just like to create scenes, not just...symbols,” You said, nervously twirling the pen between your fingers. “I prefer to paint, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Do have any of them on that thing?” He pointed to the tablet, “Anything you’re willing to show me?” You blinked as his tone caught you off-guard. He was talking about your art and yet it seemed like he meant something more. You could’ve sworn his eyes had strayed from your face for just a second. God, you were crazy. After being stood up and nearly two years by yourself, you were growing delusional.

“I might, I, um...one second,” You unlocked your tablet and saved your work. You opened your gallery and flipped through your files, settling on a quick sketch you had done of a sparrow that had built a nest outside your building. “It’s just a drawing, but, um, here.”

You handed over the tablet and he tilted it so he could see the screen, his brows lifting as his eyes ran over the lines and shadows done in monochrome, splashes of auburn here and there to give a hint of life to the sketch. “Wow, that’s really good.” He looked up, holding the tablet out to you, “You’re very talented.”

“Thanks,” You looked away shyly, “Really, it’s just a sketch. I’ve seen way better.”

“No, no, what you do is amazing. You shouldn’t compare yourself to others,” He smiled as you took the tablet, your fingers brushing his by accident. “You’re you and that makes it more than a sketch. It’s art.”

You allowed yourself a small smile. “Thank you,” You locked your tablet again and set it on your lap, resting your pen beside it.

“Well,” He slowly pulled his arm out from behind you, his warmth releasing you as he stood. “I’ll leave you to it. I’d hate to keep you from you work.” He checked his watch as he spoke, “And I’ve got to get to the restaurant for dinner service.” He looked back to you, his blue eyes searching you, considering you closely as he measured his next words, “You should definitely come back some time. You know, no date required.”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” You nodded evasively. You didn’t really want to admit that you couldn’t go back not because you were dateless but because you had bills. “It was, uh, surprising to run into you.”

“You, too,” He grinned, his golden brows twitching, “The special tonight is salmon. You should give it a try….have a good one.”

He turned away, strolling across the park and onto the street. You drew your brows together as you saw a silver car pull up and he got inside. Why would he be walking through the park if he had a town car? You shook your head and readjusted your tablet across your knee. Maybe he had just gotten out to stretch. You doubted he had gone out of his way to bug you.

-------------

You balanced the mugs, careful not to spill any of the foam as you walked between tables and found your seat by the window. Tandi was sat with her phone out, grinning at the screen like an idiot. You set her latte in front of her and cupped your own warm mug as you sat down. She finished typing and relinquished her phone on the table. She looked up at you, starry-eyed over her latest fling. Well, they’d been seeing each other for a couple months so maybe it was getting serious.

“I’m real sorry about Danny,” She said. She had arrived as you were waiting in line, grabbing a seat as you bided your time in the queue. Your mouth twitched and you looked away. The heat still rose in your cheeks whenever you thought of the painful hour spent in the restaurant. It had been more than a week.

“It’s not your fault,” You grumbled, “It was just embarrassing...I can’t believe I sat there that long. It was like everyone was staring at me.”

“I’m sure they weren’t, but it was a dick thing to do. I’ve blocked him on Snap, Facebook, and Twitter.” She smirked, “So yeah, fuck him.”

“Ha, thanks,” You scoffed, raising your mug to sip from it, the foam cooling the espresso. Your eyes wandered out the window as you leaned back in your chair.

“You know, not all guys are like that, Y/N,” She trilled, “Carson’s a nice guy and he has lots of friends.”

“I don’t want to date any of your boyfriend’s bros,” You protested, watching the passerbys through the glass. “Carson’s nice but not my type and I can’t imagine his friends are of a different cut.”

“Well, you should at least consider someone. Anyone!” She said dramatically, but before you could chuckle it caught in your throat. You swore you recognized that blonde head across the street. You couldn’t say for sure as it quickly ducked into the suit shop and you blinked as the mug in your hand wobbled. You steadied your grip and turned back to Tandi. Right, you were going crazy.

“I will. One day. But I’m fine right now. Work’s good and steady and I feel pretty good. I can do what I want when I want...Living with Mike was difficult and I didn’t even realize how much I hated it til he was gone.” You stopped yourself before you could get too emotional. “I know it’s been a long time, but I’m working on it, a little at a time.”

“I know…” She reached over and touched the back of your hand, “I just want you to be happy; healthy.”

You smiled. A genuine smile. Not the one you put on for strangers or when you were anxious. A real one and it felt good. You took another gulp and waited for Tandi to begin her usual train of gossip. She always had the messiest stories about her workplace; she was an actor and had garnered many a theatre job, enough at least to keep her studio apartment. Once she began, it was hard to stop her and your latte was drained by the time she finished.

Her phone shook the table. She flipped it over and checked the notification, her face shone. “Carson’s back from his trip,” She almost sang. You stared at her and sighed as her eyes rounded brightly.

“Go on,” You relented, “You’re free to go. I won’t keep you. Just call me when you get a chance...if you get a chance.”

“Thank you,” She stood so quickly she hit the table with her hip. She pulled on her thin trench, pulling taught the belt around her thin waist. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go,” You crossed your arm, “Just let me know you’ve arrived safely. You know I’m paranoid.”

“Sure, sure,” She leaned down to give you half-hug, “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” You patted her lower back in return, “Bye.”

You watched her go, content at least with the hour shared with her. You couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold because you had. You weren’t bitter but you mulled her words. Just because one jerk had stood you up didn’t mean they all would. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next day, but you’d be ready to start again one day. For now, you wanted to pop into the used bookstore just across the street. You always found something interesting there.

You stepped out into the cool spring afternoon, the evening looming as a hint of rain floated in the air. You ran across the street and hopped up onto the curb, your focus solely on the book shop. You entered with a ring, the small bell above the door announcing your entrance. The storekeeper was sat at a desk stacked with book, the daily newspaper held aloft like a shield. You headed for the back shelves where vintage magazines were kept in old filing crates. You liked to use them for inspiration.

As you picked out decades-old issues, the bell jingled again but you didn’t pay much heed to the arrival of another. You continued to thumb through the magazines until you had half a dozen, content that they would last you a while. You stood and looked along the shelf, walking parallel to it slowly as you read the titles of ancient odes and medieval limericks. You stopped to pull out a collection of Wordsworth, the spine thin and worn, easily falling open in your hand.

“Excuse me,” The voice interrupted you before you could finish reading the title of the first poem. It was oddly familiar. Your lashes fluttered in disbelief, “You dropped…” Steve’s voice died and he chuckled as you turned to him slowly, “You again.”

“Uh-huh,” You mumbled warily. It had been him on the street retreating into the suit shop. That would prove he had been in the area for more than an hour but why? He held no wares from his visit to the tailor’s. Another coincidence? Surely, you weren’t that special.

“As I was saying, you dropped this,” He held up the white pen you used with your tablet. It had likely slipped out as you knelt at the crates.

“Thanks,” You accepted it and tucked it snuggly in the side pocket.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked, nodding at the book in your hand.

“Nothing,” You closed it and placed it back on the shelf. “I was just wasting time.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, resting his hand on the shelf as he leaned on it casually. “I just kinda stumbled in. Saw this copy of Dante’s Inferno,” He held up the painted cover which depicted an eerie cave spiralling ever downward, “My mother used to keep a copy but I never read it. Thought maybe I could give it a try.”

“Cool,” You hugged the magazines to you chest. Something about him being there at that exact moment was off. The unease was stronger than it had been at the park; his spontaneous visit had been more believable then. You tried to smile. You were being dumb. And what were you even afraid of? He used to be an Avenger. He was good guy. “I was actually just about to head--”

A clap of thunder shrouded your next words. You looked past the bookshelves as the light rain you had failed to notice through the window began to pour down in sheets. Your distress must have been plain as your lips parted slightly.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked, shaking you from your despair. You looked back to him and tried to think of something. Anything.

“I’ll catch a cab,” You shrugged him off, trying to seem unperturbed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t waste your money. You can share my town car. He’s just outside. I’m sure you don’t live too far out of the way.” He smirked, his hand shifting along the shelf as he edged closer. You almost didn’t notice the subtle movement.

“Really, I can’t. You’ve already done enough. I really should, um, go.” You back away only to find the corner at your back.

“I won’t let you say no,” He asserted, “Come on. Just a car ride. That’s it. I mean, do you really wanna stand out in this and hail a cab?”

You stared up at him as you considered the invitation. Why were you so reluctant? He had done nothing to earn your distrust. If anything, he had only done you favours. But why? Oh, shut up brain, he wasn’t Mike. Or Danny. He actually seemed like a decent human being so why were you being so dumb?

“Okay,” You relented, “Sure. Why not.”

****

tags: @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel @grayxswan @iheartsebastianstan @myboyfriendgiriboy @tanelle83 @patzammit @phoenix21love @they-call-me-le @iheartsebastianstan

#happy together #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers #fic #steve rogers fic #au #series #mcu #marvel #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve #dark steve #dark steve rogers

889 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 5 years

Text

Which One? Joo Hyuk - Part 3

Genre: Coffee Shop!AU

Pairing: Joo Hyuk x You

Warnings: None

Prologue, Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Epilogue | Words: 1,772

You made good on your promise to Jane to continue coming here for your weekly Wednesday meetups.

To be honest, you’d kind of wanted to come back over the weekend... but you still felt too awkward. And you were (irrationally) worried that something else bad would happen when you next visited.

But, really, though. What could be worse than getting a drink spilled on you by the owner of the shop? And then being taken home by that same owner because your car wouldn’t start in the parking lot?

Not much. You were sure there was something, but you didn’t care to think too much about what that something could be.

So, you’d refrained from visiting on Saturday or Sunday (or Monday or Tuesday). The next time you walked through the door of The Mug was on Wednesday at 6:58pm, just about eleven and a half hours shy of a full week after the whole car-not-starting debacle and the ‘I should have offered you a ride home, here’s a free drink to apologize for that and also spilling your drink on you’ thing.

You were kind of hoping Joo Hyuk had just... forgotten all about it? Because you would rather not feel awkward around him.

Although you would probably feel awkward around him regardless because he was so ridiculously attractive...

Also, you didn’t necessarily want Joo Hyuk to think of you as the girl he spilled a drink on. Or the girl whose car wouldn’t start.

Y’know?

You would rather him think of you as...

Well...

Anything but those two things, pretty much.

You knew that was asking a lot, though. Because both of those things had happened the night you’d met, and first impressions can be very powerful.

As it had been the other two times you’d visited The Mug, the line to order wasn’t exactly short. Joo Hyuk and Ji Soo, upon first glance, were working up a storm - though they still managed to look like models, heaven knows how.

You took your place at the end of the queue, and Jane arrived just a few minutes later. She stepped into line behind the two people behind you, and as you got closer, you heard a soft psst.

You ignored it because you truly didn’t think it was meant for you.

But the closer you got to the register, the more urgent the psst became.

Until, finally, you heard Jane hiss your name.

“What?” you whispered back when you turned and leaned over to see her.

Rather than tell the rest of the people in line what she wanted you to do, she held up her hand, only extending her thumb and pinky while she closed up her other fingers into a fist. She put her handphone up to her ear and then mouthed, ‘GIVE HIM YOUR NUMBER!’

...You just rolled your eyes and turned back around.

When the person in front of you stepped away, you felt an unexpected surge of anxiety about seeing Joo Hyuk again.

But, to your slight surprise, he simply grinned and said, “Hey, welcome back. What can I get for you?”

Oh, good. He wasn’t going to ask about your shirt or your car. Now, the final test was...

“Green tea --”

“-- Latte,” Joo Hyuk finished, his grin widening as he nodded and typed it into the register.

You handed over your debit card when he provided the total, but it wasn’t until you stepped away from the counter that you let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t brought up The Spill! He hadn’t brought up The Car!

You managed to find two empty chairs by the time Jane had finished ordering, and you watched as she scurried over to you.

“Did you give him your number?!” she squealed, reaching out and squeezing your arm.

“Yes,” you answered monotonously.

“What?! What did he --” And then she realized you were being sarcastic. “Oh, come on! Why not?!”

“Because! Why would I?! He doesn’t need my number for any reason!”

“He needs it to talk to you! To ask you on a date!” she hissed.

“Jane, will you give it up?” you whined. “Just because you got a boyfriend, it doesn’t mean it’s my turn next.”

“But it doesn’t mean it’s not.”

You simply let out a soft huff, shaking her hand off of your arm and getting your phone out to distract yourself from your pestering friend.

Jane gave up -- for now -- and asked about your work week so far.

A satisfied smile tugged on your lips, and you put your phone down to answer her. You asked about her work week, in return, and then inquired after her boyfriend.

Just as the two of you were figuring out when you could meet him, Joo Hyuk arrived with two mugs. He set them both down on the small table in-between your chairs, and you thanked him softly.

Instead of leaving, though, Joo Hyuk stood there.

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head up to look at him (though it was quite difficult to do that - it was like trying to look directly at the sun).

“You said you were a freelance photographer and website designer, right?” he asked, sounding just a teensy bit nervous.

You nodded, humming your confirmation.

“Do you... have, like, a business card or anything?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jane shifting around in her chair.

“Oh! Y--yeah,” you stammered before bending down and reaching into your bag. You slipped your fingers into the pocket and slid out one of your business cards. “Here you go.”

You could’ve sworn you saw a tiny smile pull at Joo Hyuk’s lips as he received your card, holding it in both hands and skimming over it.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “We’ve been thinking about getting a website or -- oh, you’re on Instagram.”

Your heart was starting to pick up its pace, and you were honestly dreading Jane’s smug teasing when he left.

“Yeah, that’s -- it sounds lame, but that’s one of my favorite things.” You just loved combining your love of photography and your love of design to create a beautifully cohesive Instagram theme.

“That’s awesome,” he replied with a very small grin. “I’ll have to check it out. Thanks again.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answered somewhat breathlessly.

And, just as you expected, when Joo Hyuk turned and walked away (sliding your card into his back pocket), Jane reached over and gripped your arm yet again.

“Oh, my god,” she squealed through her clenched jaw, not wanting anyone else to hear just how excited she was. “He just -- you just -- your card! Your Instagram! Your card has your cell phone number on it, right?!”

“Yes,” you blushed, holding back a very shy smile.

Jane let out a very satisfied noise of exultation, and you were surprised she didn’t clap with glee. “Oh, this is good. You didn’t even need to give him your number, he asked for it!”

“Well, technically, he asked for my card. Not my number.”

“But, still! He had to have known your number would be on there. Honestly, this is a really good sign. This is the universe letting you know that something is on the horizon for you two,” Jane said happily.

“Oh, my -- Jane, come on,” you chuckled. “That’s going a little too far.”

“Just you wait!” she announced, nodding smugly. “Mark my words, my friend. Things will start moving along, and before you know it, you’ll have a boyfriend.”

You simply looked at her, your facial expression clearly saying ‘Sure, Jane.’

Much to Jane’s dismay, Joo Hyuk didn’t come back to check on you guys or get you refills for the rest of your time there. Ji Soo did, and while he was still undeniably handsome and friendly, your best friend was now laser-focused on developing your relationship with the other undeniably handsome and friendly owner of The Mug.

She was actually in the middle of devising a plan for your next weekly meetup when Ji Soo approached your chairs yet again to take your empty mugs.

“Can I get you ladies anything else?” he asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“No, I think we’re good,” you answered before Jane could say something embarrassing.

“Awesome,” Ji Soo grinned. “Hey, before I leave -- since you two are valued customers, I wanted to let you know we’ve booked a band to play here on Saturday night. Starts at 7 if you’re interested.”

“Oh, cool!” Jane grinned. “Yeah, that sounds fun. Which band?”

“They’re called Day8,” he answered.

You’d never heard of them, but if Jane was willing to come, you would, too.

“We’ll be there!” she chirped, nodding excitedly.

“Awesome,” Ji Soo grinned, nodding and heading back to the counter to take your empty mugs.

You and Jane stood from your chairs then, grabbing your bags and getting ready to leave for the night.

“Oooh!” Jane exclaimed suddenly, reaching out and grabbing your arm for about the sixth time tonight.

“Jane, I swear, if you come up with one more idea to get Joo Hyuk --”

“No, I should bring my boyfriend!” she said with wide, bright eyes. “You need to meet him! He needs to meet you!”

“Oh!” you gasped, now just as excited as she was. “Yes! Bring him! I need to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

Jane simply chuckled, linking her arm through yours as the two of you headed out the door and to the parking lot.

You let out a soft sigh as you were both enveloped by the darkness of the setting sun, the warm glow of the parking lot lights. And you weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned your head on Jane’s shoulder and said, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

“You’re welcome,” Jane murmured softly, her voice nothing short of loving and affectionate.

“Even though you don’t need to be so extra about -- you-know-who -- I’m glad you care that much.”

Jane nodded, briefly leaning her head against yours before turning to place a quick kiss into your hair. “I care that much because I love you. I want you to be happy.”

“I know,” you sighed. And you did know.

But you were still exasperated by her persistence.

“All right, my love,” Jane said, patting your arm. “Here’s my car. I’ll see you on Saturday?”

“Yes,” you nodded, lifting your head and letting your arm fall from hers. “Saturday. Your boyfriend better be ready for an interrogation.”

“I’ll make sure he is,” Jane replied.

And, with that, the two of you said your good-byes and went your separate ways for the night.

You had parked just a little bit farther away, so you continued on walking (and silently hoping your car would actually start this time).

Just before you got to your car, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. As you reached for it, you felt it vibrate again... and again... and again.

Geez, what were all these notifications?!

When you brought your phone up to your face, you saw they were all Instagram notifications.

The first one was alerting you to the fact you had a new follower, the username of @njh222. And the next several notifications were that same user liking some of your posts.

As you got your keys out of your bag, you opened up Instagram and navigated to that user’s profile.

Just as you were about to unlock and open your door, you saw the profile picture. And you froze.

Oh.

It was Joo Hyuk.

Part 4

#kwritersworldnet #nam joo hyuk scenarios #nam joo hyuk imagines #nam joo hyuk au #nam hoo hyuk fluff #nam joo hyuk fanfic #kdrama scenarios #kdrama imagines #kdrama au #kdrama fluff #kdrama fanfic #kdrama actor #nam joo hyuk #nam ju hyuk

151 notes · View notes

suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

Yours Truly [Part Seven]

Summary: Fourth of July is a family affair on the Pratt farm; something new sparks between Chris and Sadie. Pairing: Chris Pratt x OFC, Chris Evans x OFC Word Count: 1775 Warnings: Mentions of divorce and abandonment. A/N: This fic was previously posted on my multi-fandom account; in honor of OC Appreciation Day, I figured I would queue it all up for your reading pleasure throughout the day! This was a collab with @captain-s-rogers , and I will link her chapters at the end of all of my posts! Some GIFs were difficult to find again, so if there’s no credit, they’re from Google Image Search or from the original post.

July 4

Caroline,

Happy Fourth of July! Honestly, I don’t know who’s more excited for fireworks, me or Layla!

I’m including the pictures from the birthday party with this letter. We had so much fun! Layla said it was her best birthday ever, and that’s all I need to know. Her friends seemed to enjoy it, too, and Chris and his parents were happy with everything, so that’s good, too.

Chris’s parents are super nice, but they want to take Layla for the rest of the summer. Chris told them no, that he didn’t want to be away from Layla, and he doesn’t want Layla to be taken away from me. In light of some other things that were said, he’s going to talk with me later about what happened exactly between him and his ex-wife, while Kathleen and Daniel take Layla into town for a few things for the barbecue later on. They’re all at breakfast right now – I was invited to go, but I think some family time might be better for them.

We watched Chris’s rally last night, and I actually saw you! Looking powerful and professional as always. You’re rocking this job, C, I just know it. I’m hoping there are some more details in your next letters that come about what’s going on with you and your boss. (I’m a horrible influence, I know.)

There are more things I want to tell you, but I just can’t get them onto paper. Telling you always makes things real, and I want them to be real but they still seem so overwhelming to put on paper – maybe it’s time for a phone call? Miss you much, bestie!

Yours truly,

Sadie

After addressing, sealing, and stamping the envelope with the letter and pictures in it, Sadie left it in Kathleen’s trusted care to take into town and drop off for her. The post office would be closed, but the big blue box was always open.

Once Layla was gone with her grandparents, Sadie set to work in the kitchen preparing food for the mid-afternoon cook-out. Chris helped her by slicing up some vegetables for a tray while they talked.

“How was breakfast with your parents?” she asked.

“It was good, and much needed, like you said. Not that I’m happy admitting you were right,” he teased.

Sadie laughed lightly. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Hopefully you’re not upset, but I agreed to let Layla go up to Minnesota with them for a week when they head back. I’ll fly up the last couple of days to visit and bring Layla back with me.”

“Why would I be upset?” Sadie frowned. “She’s not my daughter, Chris, she’s yours. They’re her grandparents. Even if you had decided to send her up there for the rest of the summer, I would have been disappointed but not mad. It’s not my choice to make.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, piling a handful of celery sticks onto the tray. “I guess we could go ahead and talk about Emily.”

“Only if you want to.”

He let out a deep breath, deciding where to begin, exactly. “She left almost a year ago. Layla had just turned four, and I could tell Emily was getting restless. She wouldn’t talk to me about what was wrong, just grew more and more distant. Finally, one day, she told me she had met someone else and she was leaving. I told her,” he took another deep breath, “I told her that I wasn’t going to allow her to take Layla, to which Emily replied that she hadn’t planned on taking her.”

Sadie’s eyes grew wide. “I’m not saying that leaving you is any better, but how could she leave her own daughter behind? And willingly, at that.”

“Emily didn’t want kids when we started dating. By the time we were married, she had changed her mind without any convincing from me, and when she got pregnant with Layla, we were both ecstatic. It didn’t take long for her to remember why she didn’t want kids, I guess.”

Sadie’s eyes welled with tears; her heart broke all over again for both Chris and Layla. She tried to stop the tears, but it was to no avail.

“Hey, don’t cry, Adie,” Chris said, using Layla’s name for her as a means to cheer her up. He set down the knife and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. “We turned out all right. We got you.”

“I know,” Sadie sniffled, “and I know it’s not about me. It just makes me so angry and so sad. You and Layla both deserve so much better.”

“You have a big heart,” Chris said, running his hand up and down her arm. “That’s what makes you so special to us.”

Sadie leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m not going to save you deviled eggs just because you’re flattering me, you know.”

Chris laughed and went back to the vegetables. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Sadie laughed, too, and dried her tears. “Change of subject, but I might like to stick around while Layla’s gone, if that’s okay. Look for some jobs in the area.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re welcome to – hey, if you find one close to here, you’ll be around for harvest.”

“Come to think of it, what do you farm? I mean, I’ve been here for a month now, and I assumed it was wheat, but we’ve never actually talked about it.”

“Sunflowers,” Chris smiled, blushing a little.

Excitement beamed bright across Sadie’s features. “I love sunflowers!”

“Well, you’ll have to at least come around during harvest. I’ll make sure you get some good flowers.”

Their conversation flowed easily after that, with witty banter and flirty teasing. By the time Layla, Kathleen, and Daniel returned, it was as though they were old friends, comfortable and familiar.

The air smelled of bug spray and firecrackers by the time night fell. They were all full on hamburgers, hot dogs, and a variety of fruits and veggies – not to mention the desserts that Kathleen and Sadie had baked.

Layla had frosting smeared across her face, and her hands were sticky from a slice of watermelon. When they all set out lawn chairs to watch the fireworks the neighbors down the road were shooting off, she crawled onto her father’s lap and leaned her head against his chest. She was asleep before the fireworks even started.

“She had a long day,” Sadie commented.

Chris nodded, kissing the top of Layla’s head. “That she did, and I don’t think she was fully re-energized from her birthday.”

“I think you’re right.” She leaned her head back and sighed, watching Layla sleep. “I’m going to miss her next week. I haven’t been here that long, but it seems like it’s been forever.”

“Yeah, it does,” Chris said.

Sadie studied him for moment before turning back to the fireworks. There was a note of relief in his comment, and Sadie couldn’t help but feel encouraged for it. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was feeling something more than what would normally be considered professional or even friendly when it came to the relationship with Chris.

She was in the midst of accepting that these feelings were actually happening when Chris confirmed that she was, in fact, not the only one feeling that way: he reached over and slipped his fingers through hers. Sadie tried not to smile too big, squeezing his hand a little in acknowledgement of the gesture.

The next morning, Sadie’s heart was still on a high from the night before. Holding hands with Chris while the fireworks exploded over them wasn’t something that she had expected to happen, especially within seconds of coming to terms with her own developing feelings.

She hummed all the way through making pancakes for breakfast, cleaning up the patio from the Fourth of July celebration, and doing the dishes that had been abandoned the night before. She smiled to herself through the laundry and through Layla’s counting lesson. By the time lunch rolled around, she was more than a little excited to see Chris come in from his outdoor work with Daniel that morning.

Chris, it seemed, was just as excited at the prospect of something new as Sadie felt. The two of them shared blushing glances and secret smiles all throughout lunch. They didn’t say much to each other, but he did wink at her on his way through the back slider when he returned to the fields.

After lunch, Kathleen laid down for a nap, and Sadie set about getting Layla packed for her trip.

“If I’m not leavin’ till tomorrow, why do I have to pack my clothes now?” Layla groaned, leaning on the edge of the mattress.

“First of all,” Sadie smiled, “I am packing your clothes, not you, little miss. Second of all, it’s good to be prepared.”

“It’s not ‘cause you want me to go away?”

Sadie zipped up Layla’s bag and sat on the bed, pulling Layla into her lap. “I never want you to go away, Layla, but I can’t keep you here all the time, either. That’s selfish.”

“You promise you’ll be here when I come back?”

“Of course! Me and Daddy are going to be so bored with you gone!”

Layla grew quiet and pensive, so Sadie set her back on the floor and double-checked around the room that she had packed everything.

“Are you taking your monkey or your goose to Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

“Goose,” Layla answered definitively. The pensive look returned to Layla’s countenance, but this time she verbalized her thoughts. “Sadie, are you gonna kiss Daddy?”

Sadie turned to Layla with her brow raised. “Kiss Daddy?”

Layla nodded, excited now that the subject was out in the open. “Yes! He was so sad when Mama left, but he’s happy now! And he says you’re a blessing, to both of us. And I know you was holding hands last night.”

“Oh, Layla …”

The little girl took Sadie’s hands. “It’s okay with me!”

“Oh, it is?” Sadie chuckled. “Can you keep a secret, sweetheart?”

Layla nodded. “Yes. Is it about Daddy?”

Sadie nodded, too, and crouched down in front of her. “And about you. I wasn’t sad before I came here, but I was kinda lonely. And I’m not, now that I’m here with you and Daddy.”

Layla flung her little body into Sadie’s hug. “That’s why you have to stay forever!”

Sadie hugged Layla tightly, not saying anything, but thinking, if only for that moment, she would be fine staying there forever with Chris and Layla.

Part Eight

#chris pratt #chris evans #fanfiction #oc appreciation day 2020 #new to this blog

0 notes