#i forgot the draw stand. stubble. i guess ? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend.

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, “Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky fanfic

87 notes · View notes

comradelup · 4 years

Note

Blupjeans and 8? :0

:0!! this kinda got a little away from me, but i don’t completely hate it! it’s shipswap au blupjeans though, aka lup is a reclaimer and barry is the spouse in the astral plane

<><><>

The Astral Plane is hauntingly gorgeous. The specific island Lup is standing on is big and round, surrounded on all sides by rainbow water and glowing lights. But she doesn’t care about any of it.

Because Barry is here. On the beach, playing piano as naturally as he draws breath. Or… drew breath. He’s dead, but now Lup is too. It’s been years— centuries— but now she’s on the same plane as him.

Her grip on Taako’s hand tightens and he squeezes back before letting go. He’s uncharacteristically solemn as he says, “Take your time.”

Lup nods, unable to take her eyes off of Barry, and she hears Taako portal out.

She starts walking before she really knows what she’s doing. Across the grey sand before she’s standing behind him, his back to her. He’s still wearing that shirt she always loved because it’s so soft. She’s still wearing his wedding ring on a chain around her neck.

“Hi,” she says. It definitely isn’t the most eloquent or appropriate thing to say, but she can’t think of anything else.

The melodies of the piano stop immediately. Barry is shocked into stillness for a moment before he turns and makes eye contact with her. Gods, she missed those eyes.

He nearly kicks over the bench he’s sitting on as he shoots into a hug. Lup holds him as tight as she can and revels in the feeling of his arms around her again. She buries her head in his shoulder and breathes him in.

“Oh gods, you’re here,” Barry’s saying, “W-we’re together again.”

“I missed you so much,” Lup says, tearing up. “I thought about you every single day, I wouldn’t let anyone forget you.”

“I missed you too. So much. Gods, let me…” He trails off, backing up just enough to see Lup’s face. He smiles, eyes wet, and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re still so b-beautiful.”

“I could say the same for you, handsome.” He doesn’t have any loose hair, but her hands trace his face all the same. The curve of his cheek, the little bit of stubble, the crinkles around his eyes, it’s all exactly how she remembers.

“I love you so much,” he says. She wipes away the tear that falls down his face.

“I love you too,” she says, “And I mean it: I told everyone about you. I— Gods you don’t even know half the story. My friends and I, we’re—”

“Space explorers? Apocalypse fighters?” Barry asks.

“Wh— how’d you know?”

“I heard the story,” he says, “It even reached here.”

Lup is still for a moment, then she laughs. Barry laughs too, pulling her impossibly closer and she can feel the rumble in his chest.

“I guess you do know half the story, then,” she says, head on his shoulder. Her arms are wrapped around his neck and his arms are looped around her waist.

“Only half of it?” Barry is slowly swaying back and forth, and Lup could be rocked to sleep standing up.

“Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it. But later…” She readjusts her grip and breathes in the smell of him again. It’d be creepy if Barry wasn’t doing it too. Weird how many of the little things you miss after you lose someone.

Barry hums in response, just holding her. That’s all she needs, really. She only got through her time as a reclaimer and the fight against the apocalypse because she knew she’d see him at the end of it all.

“I wish this moment could last forever…”

“Who says it can’t?” Barry says, and Lup backs up at that. Only enough to see his face, but still.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this whole time I was here I convinced The Grim Reaper herself to let me stay and w-wait for you.”

“You know Julia?”

“You… you know her too?”

“I told you there was another half to the story, babe.”

“Oh. Well, uh, I was thinking, I b-bet she could let us stay longer, if we asked. I mean, you’re— you did all of that and saved countless worlds, you could probably call in a favor.”

Lup chuckles. “I like the way you think, babe. But I’ll ask about all that later. Right now I just wanna… I dunno, I’ve missed being around you.”

Barry hums. Seems like he has too. Lup can’t stop herself from standing on her toes to close the distance between the two of them. They both immediately melt into the kiss, Lup shifting her hands to cradle Barry’s face. It’s been too long.

The kiss lasts longer than normal, because neither of them need to breathe anymore. But it ends eventually and Lup could come back to life just by seeing the look on Barry’s face.

Then she remembers something. “Oh! Almost forgot, hold on.” She reaches behind her head, undoing the clasp of her necklace. She takes it off and holds one end up so the ring on the chain falls off and into the palm of her hand.

“Is that…?”

Lup nods. “I went through hell to get it. I didn’t want to lose it. I, uh, I had already lost enough, you know?”

Barry looks sad at the fact, at Lup bringing up the elephant in the afterlife. Lup just lifts up his hand and slides the ring onto his finger, over the tan line.

“This reminds me of our wedding,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, Taako— my brother— he got so mad he missed it. He really wants to meet you, but didn’t want to until I could see you again.”

“Right, I heard about him in the story. Gods, you have a b-brother. I wanna meet him, I saw how important he is to you.”

“So are you,” Lup says, “I swear, you’d fit right in with all those goobers, they’d love you.” Sheepishly, she adds, “They kind of already do, I told them so much about you they might as well know you.”

Barry smiles. “You said he’s w-w-waiting to meet me? So he’s still alive?”

“Oh. No he’s a reaper too. There’s not just one, there’s tons. Taako and Kravitz work with Julia, they’re a team.”

Barry looks appropriately baffled. “You w-were right, I don’t know half the story.” Lup laughs, and Barry says, “Tell me the whole thing, from the b-beginning.”

#taz #taz balance #taz fic #the adventure zone #blupjeans #balance #lup #barry #txt #writing #prompt #sgrumby #ty for the request!! <3 #shipswap #i Gotta write red robes!taakitz now. to complete the trifecta of the au

47 notes · View notes

romantic-barnes · 4 years

Text

unintended | part two

| part two - how can we win when fools can be kings |

Parings: king!bucky x princess!reader

Summary: The moment you have come of age, you are being ripped out of the place you call home and into the kingdom of Cydonia ruled by King James, your betrothed. Neither of you pleased with the situation, neither of you being honest. Between fights, snarky remarks and glaring, do you find time to breathe? Is it possible to reconcile or even love one another?

Warnings: arranged marriage, insulting, being mean on purpose, a bit of a slow burn, the reader has a twin!

A/N: this is the second part of my entry in @sillyqt 1k writing challenge. I hope you like this, love! I’m still a little delusional from me staying up all night, but I hope you won’t be able to notice it!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

The next few days were very tense. You both tried to stay civil, only talking to each other when necessary. You tried tiptoeing around James as much as you could, retracting your steps when you saw him walking down a corridor. It felt strange, feeling so unwelcome. At home you could be found running around the castle grounds with the children, playing hide and seek for hours until supper, but here in Cydonia you felt like a stranger.

This is not what you thought life would be like in Cydonia.

You decided to read a little outside, sitting by the pond. A few lady’s of the court were walking in the garden, chatting amongst themselves. You were itching to go to the maze in the far back of the garden with Clint. The warm feeling of the sun on your skin and a smile crept int’s way on your face.

The book you chose was one of the many Julia gifted you, but you couldn’t see the appeal of it. It wasn’t the reading that made you gag, it was the sitting still, concentrating on tiny words. Nevertheless it brought you a little closer to your sister. You missed her dearly, sitting like you now, preferably under the cherry blossom tree, reading for hours. You stared at the page, trying to refocus on the words but you simply couldn’t.

You decided to walk around a little, but as you were about to stand up, James’s voice stopped you.

“What are you doing, princess?” James stood next to you, blocking the sun from your face.

“Reading, your highness.” You said sweetly as if nothing happened a few days ago.

“How nice.” The King smiled before taking the book from your hands, examining it for a second and then throwing it into the lake, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

You stood up at once, looking at the book floating in the green water. The pages soaked in the green water and you were able to watch the letters bleeding into the white paper. You weren’t necessarily attached to the book, but an idea struck you and you ran with it. “How could you!” you shrieked, holding a hand over your heart. Walking towards the pond, down the slippery steps and into the water.

James watched whilst you were immersed in the water up to your shoulders, retrieving the book. You grabbed your book, turning back to climb out of the water to sit on the stone steps. You sobbed, looking at the book and James approached you, feeling guilty.

He just wanted to be a little mean.

He kneeled before you, sadness in his eyes. “This was my mother’s book. She gave it to me before she was brutally murdered.” You spoke softly between sobs.

James reached out to rest his hands on your bare shoulders. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was- I was rude and vicious-” You stammered through your tears, looking up to meet his eyes and a small but sad smile graced his lips. You leaned forward,feeling his breath on your face. The pupils of his blue eyes widened and you gently touched his nose with yours. Slowly, James tilted his head, pulling you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His other hand caressed your cheek and you melted against his lips.

You forgot all about your grand plan, feeling the electricity run through your veins. His lips soft against yours, moving ever so gently, the short stubble grazing your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, a low groan from James and you giggled into the kiss.

James was the first to pull back, smiling and drawing circles on your soft cheek with his thumb. He had never kissed someone so delicately, so passionately and so lovingly. All seemed to be forgotten, everything he thought was so wrong with you fleeting away. Maybe there was a chance to look past each other differences, to live a life happy and full of love.

Maybe he could teach her how to ride a horse like a man, shoot an arrow, all the things he loved.And maybe, just maybe, he could learn something from her. Although he didn’t see the appeal in sewing, if that’s what brings her joy, he could try, for her.

You removed one arm from his shoulders, picking up the soaked book next to you, laughing a little. “I guess it’s ruined.” James joined you, apologising again. But you were having none of it.

You stood suddenly. “Good thing my mother isn’t dead.” You said, pushing James into the water, smiling wickedly and throwing the book into the pond after him. You twistend your hair out, leaving a trail of water as you walked back into the castle. But the wicked smile didn’t stay for long. Sitting at the foot of your bed as soon as you entered your chambers.

It took James a minute to process what you had just said. How could he be so stupid? He knows your mother’s not dead. How could he fall for that? He didn’t want his heart to break, but it did.

You should’ve been more occupied with guilt, but the thing you thought most about was the kiss. You touched your lips with your pointer finger occasionally, still feeling the tingle of his soft lips against yours. You had never kissed anyone and never in a million universes did you think it was going to be like this.

Truth be told that you felt a little beside yourself, knocking things over, spilling wine on your dress, running head-first into a door. There was something when you kissed James, but you couldn’t exactly place it.

You needed clearance and you knew just how to get it.

Getting Clint to take the horses out for a ride wasn’t difficult, leaving for the stables as soon as you asked him early in the afternoon. The horse you chose was called Medossa, a beautiful black horse with a ring of white above her hooves.

You decided to ride through the woods, thick trees covering most of the ground, a hazard to ride through, but the beauty of nature around you was mesmerising. You rode in silence relishing the clean air, the sound of leaves crackling under the hooves, birds chirping above you. You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes.

“I don’t think the King and I will ever get along.”

Clint observed you with raised eyebrows, cracking a smile. “No shit, princess. You went pretty hard with the insults.” You cocked a questioning brow at him. “Sam told me.” Clint’s mouth stretched to a wide grin.

You rolled your eyes. “He insulted my intelligence! I should just go back home and become a nun.” You steered your horse past the trees, and you heard Clint laugh ahead of you.

“You ain’t a saint, Princess!”

You faked a gasp, holding your hand over your chest. “How dare you, I have never done anything wrong in my life!” Both of you erupted in laughter, but your voices died down at the sight in front of you.

A field, miles and miles of colourful flowers. Both of you got off your horses, walking through the knee-high flowers growing wildly all over the place. The skirt of your dress pushing the plants aside. There was a small patch of grass and you sat down, your white and yellow striped dress spreading around you.

You didn’t know how to tell Clint about the kiss. He would never judge you, but you feared you went too far. You mustered up the courage, taking a deep breath in. “The King and I kissed.” You blurted out, Clint whipping his head around to you staring at you wide eyed.

“You- what- when?” He stammered.

“Yesterday. He threw my book in the pond, I pretended it was a gift from my dead mother and then I- uh- kissed him.” You chewed your bottom lip waiting for him to say anything.

“Wow uh.” Clint looked away off to the distance. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know?” You picked a few flowers in front of you making a little bouquet. The though haunted you since yesterday. Exactly why did you kiss him? “I guess I just wanted to make him believe that I was sorry, I guess. Show him that I liked him.”

“And do you? Like him?” Clint stared at you in anticipation.

“No?”

Clint nodded, very confused by the whole thing. One day you can’t stand the King, insulting his appearance and the next you’re kissing him. Clint dropped the topic, knowing full well that you were just as confused about this situation as him.

You rested your head on Clint’s shoulder, relishing the sun shining on your face. As the sun lowered on the horizon, both of you got back on your horses and decided to take a different route back. A cobbled walk led you along the woods, to your right a field of corn. Cydonia has way more nature than you were used to.

A house came to few, stables to the side along the path. The horse’s hooves clicking along the stone and you saw three children playing in the front yard. A woman sat on a chair sewing a piece of fabric.

A you got closer, you grabbed the attention of one of the children, a little girl staring up at you. Smiling down at the girl, you decided to get off your horse, Clint looking back at you with knitted eyebrows.

The little girls’ mouth wide open as you kneeled in front of her. “Are you a princess?” She asked, eyes wide with admiration.

“That I am. I-“

You were interrupted by the woman shuffling to her feet, frantically running to the two of you. “Oh god your highness, I am so sorry.” The woman apologised for her daughter too many times. You shook your head, smiling up at her.

“Don’t apologise. She wasn’t being rude.” You bumped the girls nose with your finger, giggles erupting from her. You held out the bouquet of flowers handing it to her. “You take care of these flowers for me, will you?”

The girl nodded and you stood up. The girl ran inside, and a sudden flash of jealousy hit you. If only you could be as free as her.

The mother thanked you for the flowers and you could not reason with her that it was in fact not a big deal. She gave you some berries wrapped in linen for you to take back to the castle and you bid your goodbye.

A week later and you were informed that the Queen mother would return from her travel, and you went into another panic. She was the one who chose you in the first place, the start to the fire. If she doesn’t approve of you, the way she thought you would be, then surely hell would break loose. You woke up with a terrible headache, Natasha getting you ready for breakfast. The only dress you had left to wear was the blue one with the pearls. Hopefully the King wouldn’t snitch on you and tell his mother that you had already worn that dress.

You wondered if James would say anything at all about your relationship with him. Hopefully, he’ll behave and not tell his mother of all people about your bickering.

Natasha tied the strings on the back of your dress into a little bow, fluffing out the skirt of the dress a little. “Why didn’t you take more dresses with you, Princess?” Natasha asked, examining you from a distance, making little adjustments around the sleeves.

“I don’t have more fancy dresses. My favourite ones are in the other chest.” You pointed towards the end of the bed. “But they aren’t really royally accepted.” You chuckled at the thought of it.

It was silly, really, having the same striped dress in five different colours, but no other dress is more suitable for your day to day life. Not too fluffy at the skirt interfering with your legs while you rode a horse or ran.

“Alright, I’ll ask the tailor to make you another one. Can’t walk around with the same three dresses all the time. Princesses like you usually have at least a hundred of dresses.” Natasha chuckled looking over to the two dresses hanging in the closet. “Ready?”

“Yup.”

Immediately upon walking into the dining hall, you felt the change in atmosphere. The servants standing even straighter, looking like they were going to break their spine, the guards all having their mean face on, a sight that wanted to make you laugh.

You walked closer to the table, James standing at his regular place at the head of the table and a woman standing on the other end. She had her back turned to you and your nerves were surely about to explode. You had met so many important people, but this was different.

You stood next to her, lowering yourself in a deep courtesy like you did with James. The moment you stood tall again, you were met with a warm smile.

“I’m honoured to finally welcome you to Cydonia, Princess Y/n.” She held her hand out and you kissed the back of her very soft hand. She gestured for you to sit down and you took your seat on the right side of the table, right in the middle of the King and the Queen mother. This is where you needed to shine. Your only first impression and the only chance for the Queen mother not to immediately hate you. The three of you ate breakfast in silence, a tense one on top of that. You glanced at James’ mother from time to time, checking if she saw how delicate and proper you ate.

��I heard you like to ride horses, is that true, Y/n?”

“Yes, a little.” You answered once you knew your mouth was empty. James coughed, excusing himself, taking a sip from his orange juice.

James couldn’t believe the show you were putting on. You were far from proper, at least your tongue wasn’t. The desperation of impressing his mother was so obvious and he knew she saw right through you.

“Maybe James and you could go for a ride through our beautiful nature after breakfast?” James’s mother looked between the two of you.

James cleared his throat, smiling at his mother sweetly. “Sure, mother, that would be a wonderful idea. Don’t you think, Princess?” James’s eyes fell on you and your mouth opened, but you just nodded.

The thought of spending more time with him was the last thing you wanted to do. Clint thought it would be fun to take a trip to town, exploring the town and what they have to offer, but now you were stuck with the King.

After you got changed into the blue version of your favourite dress, some complaining to Natasha and you were off to your one-on-one date with James.

You reached the stables and James was already sitting on top of a horse… the one you wanted to take. “You stole my horse!” You exclaimed, hands on your hips as you looked up to him.

“Your horse? Last time I checked these are my horses.” James laughed, galloping ahead of you as you mounted a different horse. Medossa was definitely calmer than the one you were sitting on.

Riding a little further along the path you focused on anything else other than James. The surroundings would be so much more enjoyable with Clint or even by yourself, it’s a shame you’re being dragged along with the King. You were annoyed, with both legs on one side, the most uncomfortable way to ride a horse in your opinion.

You caught up with him a little, riding beside him and you knew just how to rile him up.

Pulling on the reigns a little too harshly, directing your horse to the right startling James’ horse a little. He glared at you, but you just smiled sweetly apologising profusely. “I’m still a little insecure on horses.” You giggled and James rolled his eyes at you.

You did it once more, earning a groan from James and you held back a laugh seeing him fighting inside.

Pulling on the reigns one more time, James’s horse steered far too the right, galloping to the dense trees. You followed him quickly but there was nothing you could do. James’ shoulder hit a tree, sending him to the ground. You dismounted your horse, kneeling beside him. He looked up to the sky, face scrunching in pain. You reached out but were unsure of what to do, maybe you had taken it too far, seriously injuring the King. Medossa ran away into the deep trees and you prayed she would find her way back to the stables.

James grunted with discomfort. “I can’t move my arm.” He panted, a pleading look your way and you were on the brink of crying. It was his left arm, the one that was already severely scarred and now you ruined his shoulder. Tears prickled in your eyes, seeing him laying there in pain, unable to do anything.

You looked around you, thinking about what to do, but before you could get up, James sat. “Well, that was fun!”

Your jaw dropped watching as he stood up with that stupid smirk plastered on his face. You were too distraught to come up with a snarky comeback. James walked to your horse, mounting it. “What are you waiting for? Don’t tell me you were actually worried!” You glared at him.

You stood, walking to the horse. As you sat in front of James you held on to the front of the saddle, hearing him chuckle. His body pressed to your back, feeling his warmth against your exposed back.

“I did worry.” You mumbled.

[ part three ]

#king!bucky #bucky barnes #king!bucky barnes #king!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #royal!au #royal!bucky #royal!bucky x reader #prince!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #marvel fanfiction #james bucky barnes #king!james barnes #princess!reader #king bucky #bucky fluff #slow burn #unintended

101 notes · View notes

blissedoutphil · 4 years

Text

Dan The Personal Assistant Part 11

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

4759 words of Dom!Phil, sub!dan, buttplug, cock cage, blowjob, exhibitionism/in public, angst

~Part 10~

~Part 12~

or read on ao3!

Dan slowly stirred awake, his senses following suit as he felt warmth press up against his back, and scruff grazing his shoulder. He sighed softly as his mind connected the sensations to Phil placing lazy kisses on his shoulder, his stubble scratching against his smooth upper arm. He stretched a little, and Phil took the opportunity to kiss down the top of his shoulders to his neck.

“Good mornin’,” Phil said in a gruff voice, lips moving against Dan’s skin as he spoke.

Dan managed to croak out a response, blushing at how silly he thought he sounded compared to how absolutely sexy his boss’s morning voice was.

“We’re gonna have fun today,” his boss said decidedly, sending a tingle of excitement down Dan’s spine.

He turned around to face Phil, still somewhat surprised when he was met with those green-blue eyes mere inches away from him.

Phil took his time letting his gaze roam over his boy’s sleepy face. He’d known his boy was pretty since he first saw the video that started all this, but he felt like he’d never got to fully appreciate him until he started waking up next to him everyday. It was a good move to get a room with just one bed after all. He smiled a little thinking back to when he was worrying if Dan wouldn’t be comfortable with it. As it turned out Dan didn’t even question it, and it felt like second nature to sleep with each other. His smile faded a bit when he realised that once this trip ends, he’d be going back to sleeping alone in his empty house.

Dan returned Phil’s soft smile, feeling his cheeks warm a bit under Phil’s gaze. He wondered what Phil was thinking about, but he didn’t want to break the peaceful silence between them.

The longing gaze seemed to disappear and Phil cleared his throat and propped himself up on his elbow. “So. Before we head out to where you planned last night, I have things planned too. Choose one - A, B, or C?”

Dan squinted his eyes in suspicion, “What do those options even mean?”

“Obviously you have to choose first! Then I’ll reveal what they are,” Phil smirked.

“Hmm,” Dan contemplated as he stretched a bit more, “B?”

“Good choice,” Phil grinned mischievously.

“Doesn’t look like I made a good choice,” Dan laughed nervously, “so what is it?”

“Eager,” Phil stalled, “I’ll tell you what you didn’t choose first.”

Phil spoke lowly, climbing over Dan, “A was an anal plug. Would’ve been kept in you as we explore the city the entire day.”

Dan swallowed, not sure whether he was glad or upset he didn’t choose that.

“C was a pretty little cock cage, would’ve been a good choice for you to be honest. Just because we’re gonna be out doesn’t mean I’d keep my hands off you. Wouldn’t wanna show an erection outline in your pants to the whole city, would you?”

Dan whimpered a bit at Phil’s words, feeling himself get aroused at the thought of a bit of exhibitionism. Phil was smirking down at him, his hands on the bed either side of Dan’s head to hold himself steady above him. Dan didn’t even care anymore that Phil could see him obviously blushing at his words.

“Why don’t you guess what B stands for?” excitement was clear in Phil’s eyes.

Dan’s mind was still barely awake, and now that it was getting clouded with arousal, he couldn’t think properly at all.

“Uhm, butt plug?”

“How would that be any different from A,” Phil rolled his eyes fondly, “try again.”

Dan frowned a bit, what toy started with B that Phil could’ve brought along on this trip?

Phil was amused by how hard Dan seemed to be thinking of an answer. He carded his hand through Dan’s tangled curls. “Give up?”

Dan nodded, staring up at Phil in curiosity.

“B...” Phil nipped at Dan’s jaw, “is for...” he bit on Dan’s earlobe, drawing out time to reveal the answer.

Dan almost whined at the suspense.

“Both,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear before moving back to catch Dan’s reaction.

Dan gulped and bit his lip. They haven’t played with toys in a while and he could feel himself already thrumming with excitement.

“You’ve had your days off, now it’s my turn. And I’m gonna have fun on my only day off. How’s that sound?” Phil asked, although he could see from his boy’s dilated eyes that he was definitely up for this game.

“Sounds really hot. Can’t wait, Sir,” Dan admitted.

----------

They took a quick shower together, where Phil got his hands all over Dan in a personal challenge to get his boy as hard and horny as he could.

“How are you supposed to use your cage if you’re hard like that?” Phil then said disapprovingly.

“You could help to get me off first,” Dan suggested cheekily, to which he was rewarded with cold water sprayed at his crotch until his boner died down.

Once they dried off and got into their bathrobes, Phil took the cage out of a hidden pocket in his luggage. Dan stood quietly as he felt the cool plastic encase his cock, and watched as his boss locked him and pocketed the key. It was a first for him, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to last the whole day with it on. He was already horny from the shower, and he was sure Phil was only beginning his teasing. The denial was surely going to drive him crazy by the end of the day.

He then got on all fours on the bed as instructed. Phil took his time fingering him open, brushing against his prostate. Dan moaned, it had been a while since Phil fingered him, and he didn’t even realise that he’d missed the gentle teasing and prodding, the light squeezes on his ass, the reassuring hand on his lower back as more fingers were pressed into him, all a sure way to leave him a desperate mess, and Phil knew what a desperate mess he could be. He was definitely taking advantage of all the tricks he knew to get him there.

The plug slid in him easily, then Phil was patting his ass to get him to stand up. He sat on the bed and got Dan to kneel between his legs.

“Boy, look what you’ve done to me,” he said as he untied his bathrobe to reveal his own erection.

Dan couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped his lips around Phil’s dick. Phil leaned back and enjoyed his boy’s mouth on him. He toed at Dan’s thighs to spread them apart, before toeing at Dan’s cage.

Dan moaned desperately, feeling himself try to get hard to no avail. His cock twitched pathetically as Phil played with it. He tried his best to focus on the blowjob instead, deepthroating and sucking on Phil’s balls too, relishing in the way he made Phil falter in his teasing movements on his locked dick.

He was an expert in pleasuring his boss now, and it didn’t take long before he had cum down his throat. He licked Phil’s cock clean after he swallowed his load, as he waited for Phil to calm down from his orgasm.

“I forgot to mention,” Phil started when he’d regained composure.

He tugged gently at Dan’s hair to get Dan to look at him. His other hand sneaked into his bathrobe pocket, and before Dan knew what Phil was up to, he reflexively jolted up to his knees.

“Oh,” he grabbed onto Phil’s knee to steady himself.

Phil was giggling, taking a small remote out of his pocket. He pressed a button and the vibrations from his plug died as quick as they started.

“C’mon, get dressed. Can’t wait to go to wherever you were planning to last night,” Phil stood up, leaving Dan on the floor wondering how he was going to survive the day.

--------

Thankfully for Dan, Phil didn’t immediately start playing when they left the hotel. They started their adventure walking around Times Square in a quest for some good breakfast bagels. Phil ordered his without cheese and Dan was offended by his lack of good taste, and the fact that he only knew now that Phil was a cheese hater.

“Stop judging my food choices or your ass is gonna get it,” Phil warned jokingly, but still Dan bit his lip, he’d already almost forgotten about his little predicament.

Despite the toys he was wearing, Dan found himself thoroughly enjoying the day with Phil so far. It was easy to forget that Phil actually was his boss when they made fun of advertisements on the big billboards together and joked about licking their palms after touching the grimy poles in the subway trains. His feelings and stupid butterflies in his tummy aside, Phil felt like a genuine friend he could have fun and be comfortable with no matter where they were.

“You should get a caricature done,” Phil suggested after they walked past what seemed to be the 10th artist along the streets.

So Dan found himself sitting in front of an artist. Which was a fun idea, especially because Phil looked so excited for Dan to do it, until he suddenly felt the toy in his ass come to life. His smile stiffened and he gripped the edge of his seat, having to hold back from glaring at Phil who was sniggering behind the artist.

The artist gave him a weird look, but didn’t question it. He finished his caricature quickly, which Phil paid for.

“Aww, look at that smile,” Phil cooed at the drawing, “a good memory immortalised, of you being horny in the middle of New York City.”

Dan blushed deep, looking at his awkward smile depicted on the art. “I hate you,” he pouted.

“Oh do you?” Phil smirked.

Dan gasped, his pout instantly wiped off his face as the vibrations turned up a notch. He tried not to stagger as he kept up with Phil’s pace. The vibrations disappeared slowly, but after that he was certainly kept on his toes, hyperaware of the plug almost grazing against his prostate with every step he walked as they explored the city.

And the day continued with Dan getting surprised by the vibe at the most random times when he least expected it - while standing in a crowded subway or waiting at a stoplight, while getting a slushie or figuring out their route from google maps.

But Phil never went too far, the vibrations were small enough that Dan would be able to control himself without drawing attention, but they were enough to bring colour to his cheeks and make him pause in his step. Phil found himself getting obsessed with the way Dan looked at him equally desperate and embarrassed and annoyed, and he didn’t tell Dan but the more Dan glared at him, the more he couldn’t resist turning the toy on.

“Oh god,” Dan gasped quietly and shut his eyes as the familiar sensation started again. It never got less frustrating even as he got used to it, since he was forced to remain soft in his cage while being stimulated.

They were standing on an escalator leaving the subway platform, and Dan subconsciously held onto Phil’s upper arm to steady himself. The sadist in Phil had been enjoying his control over his boy, but this was the first time that day he felt a twinge of softness for Dan. Dan could’ve disagreed with their little game, but here he was being at Phil’s mercy just because. Phil lowered the vibrations to a stop, watching as Dan quickly dropped his hand, blushing at the realisation that he had been squeezing Phil’s arm.

“C’mon, it’s already 3pm and we haven’t had lunch. Show me that cafe of yours that can’t possibly be better than the one we have back home.”

-----

“Hm, I prefer how our coffee shop looks.”

Dan tried not to think about ‘our’ too much as they both stepped inside.

“Yeah I agree that the one back home is cosier. But the coffee’s good here. Trust me,” Dan answered.

“Better than Starbucks?” Phil’s voice was dead serious, but his raised eyebrow and smirk said otherwise.

Dan rolled his eyes, and Phil had to resist from turning on the plug while Dan ordered as payback.

They sat with their sandwiches and cups of caramel macchiato and began digging in.

“Okay I admit their macchiato is good. But I have too much of an attachment to my Sunday home to think anywhere else could be better,” Phil gave his honest review.

“Can’t argue with that. But I’ll still miss this place when we get back,” Dan considered.

“What about it will you miss?” Phil asked curiously.

“It’s just a different vibe,” Dan said dreamily, imagining that in another universe, they’d travel the world together and discover little coffee shops in each country that they’d call theirs.

He went for a sip of his drink but almost spilled it when his plug turned on again. He bit his lip and looked up at his boss with wide eyes.

“I think I get what you mean,” Phil said thoughtfully as he looked around, feigning innocence.

The butterflies floating around in Dan’s stomach melted as his arousal took over again. He shuddered, his arousal quickly mixing with frustration as he couldn’t even get hard.

A barista walked past their table and Dan stiffened.

Phil seemed to know how he was feeling. He always seemed to know these days. “Just say if you want to stop and we will,” he reassured.

Dan shook his head. He was finding the exhibitionism hot after he got over being jittery about the possibility of strangers picking up on what they’re doing. The fact that Phil loved it too just made him even more up for it.

“No, it’s just. It’s not fairrr,” he whined quietly, “I hate the cage.”

“Hey, you chose that option,” Phil sat back, enjoying the show that was his boy’s expressive face.

He changed the vibrations to a different pulse and Dan shifted in his seat to try to angle the toy away from his prostate. He could feel his cock straining against its confinement.

“And I’m just giving you something more to miss about this cafe. Bet you’ll miss getting horny in plain sight. Being denied and desperate but not able to do anything about it. Do you think the tables around us can hear you?” Phil spoke low, his raspy voice and his words making Dan’s cock twitch, as much as it could in the cage anyway.

He let out a strangled moan, and quickly coughed to cover it up. It only earned him a higher setting on the vibrations, and he gripped the edge of the table.

“Please, Sir,” he whispered.

“Please what?” Phil shrugged.

“Unlock this stupid cage,” Dan said exasperatedly.

“It stays on until our day’s over, remember? Besides, look at you, you love it. Why would I stop you from your fun? Maybe I shouldn’t unlock you until this whole trip is over,” Phil leaned forward, pushing his plate aside and clasping his hands on the table, “What if. I make you wear both the toys the entire flight home, huh? Let you join the mile high club?”

Dan let out a shaky breath. The thought of that turned him on even more, and he was struggling not to moan out loud.

“Tell me boy, are you leaking right now?”

Dan could feel that he’d been leaking for a while now. He nodded, feeling his cheeks turn crimson as Phil tutted.

“Tsk tsk, dirty boy. You gonna continue exploring the city with soiled underwear after this? I guess that’s another memory for you huh, walking around New York with your cum in your pants,” Phil smirked.

Phil turned the vibrations to a maximum, wanting to help Dan reach his orgasm, even though it would be a ruined one in his cage. Instantly, Dan let out tiny quiet whimpers and scrunched his eyes shut, head down as he focused on keeping still and not drawing attention to himself.

He could feel himself reaching the brink of orgasm, but never actually able to get it since his cock was barely hard. It felt confusing, but the continuous pulse against his prostate was overwhelming his sensations.

“Maybe we should do this in our coffee shop back home, too. It’d make for nice Sunday afternoon entertainment,” Phil commented nonchalantly.

“I’d- I’d love to do anything for you, Sir,” Dan managed to say before gritting his teeth.

Phil wasn’t sure why he was surprised to hear that from Dan, since he’d sort of known that Dan would do anything for him. The boy’s in New York submitting to his atypical boss in the middle of a cafe, for fuck’s sake. He swallowed, not going to let the comment break his character.

“Oh how I’d love to see that cock of yours right now. It must be so pathetic, unable to grow and leaking so desperately from its cage, huh?”

Dan nodded in exasperation, his chest visibly rising and falling as he breathed harshly. He bit his lip hard to stop from moaning too loud.

“Look at me,” Phil ordered, wanting to see the desperation in his boy’s eyes.

Dan’s eyebrows were furrowed as he looked up at his boss, showing Phil exactly what he’d expected to see. Dan’s wide brown eyes met Phil’s and silently conveyed his urgent need for relief.

Just as he was about to beg his boss to stop or unlock him or fuck him in the restroom or just something, anything, they were both jolted out of their little bubble.

“Well, fancy seeing you here!”

Dan felt like his heart jumped out of his chest at the intrusion. Meanwhile, Phil’s just sank to the pits of his stomach as he heard the all too familiar voice.

“Jeezus,” Phil muttered in shock as the man clapped his back, “god you scared me, Frank.”

Dan’s eyes darted up to the man. He’d never actually seen Frank before, and he certainly had almost forgotten about the whole talk Frank had had with Phil. It all felt like a lifetime ago, especially with how different things are with him and Phil now than it was back then.

He was sweating, from their scene but now also from nerves as Frank stood over their table, side-eyeing him. Exhibitionism felt like a good idea until someone who knows them shows up.

Thankfully, Phil had slowed the vibe to a stop, and he let out a muted sigh of relief. He was still a wreck of nerves as he wondered if Frank could tell what they were just doing, if it was obvious from his flushed cheeks and erratic breathing. He looked to Phil for his next move, to save them and get Frank to leave as soon as possible.

“You missed the staff bonding breakfast this morning,” Frank stated matter-of-fact, chewing on his gum.

“I already spent everyday this whole week with you all, just wanted a short break before work again,” Phil retorted truthfully enough.

Dan tried his best to shrink back into his seat, not caring that the plug dug further up his ass as he did so. He wished he could turn invisible in that moment.

Frank looked unsatisfied by Phil’s response, so he turned to Dan, who didn’t know where to look. His eyes darted from their intruder to his half eaten sandwich to Phil, but eventually settled back on Frank since he could feel Frank’s stare bore through him. He gave a small, stiff smile.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Frank, Phil’s buddy at work. And you are...?” Frank extended his hand.

“Um-” Dan quickly wiped his clammy hand on his jeans before accepting Frank’s hand, “I’m Dan.”

Stupid handshakes, Dan thought as he awkwardly let his arm be moved by Frank. He didn’t really appreciate how hard Frank squeezed his hand.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” Frank said, his tone suggesting that he knows exactly where he’d seen Dan.

Dan didn’t know what to say, but luckily Phil spoke up before he could make a blunder.

“You here to get lunch?”

“Lunch? It’s like, 5pm now. Nah, I was just exploring areas near our hotel. I don’t have a personal tour guide like you,” Frank chuckled.

“Still, you should try the smoked salmon sandwich before they run out, it’s like their best seller or something. And we’d better get going,” Phil pointed Frank in the direction of the counter.

Frank looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it. For a terrifying second, Dan thought that Frank was going to suggest joining them for the rest of the day. Instead, Frank only chuckled at Phil’s remark, but Dan thought it sounded almost like a scoff.

“It’s alright. Anyway, have fun you two. See you tomorrow,” he glanced between both men, intentionally not directing his statement to just one of them. He lingered at the table for a while before leaving.

Dan let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. He looked at Phil, who was visibly tense now. Dan wanted to say something, but he didn’t even know what. He was still worrying if Frank knew what they were up to mere moments before he spoke to them. Had he noticed them here long before he said hi? Was he watching from afar how Dan got all horny and desperate, did he hear Dan’s little whines?

Phil quickly finished up his coffee, his brows knitted together in a frown. His phone pinged and he looked at it, frown lines deepening as he saw a text notification from Frank.

“Is there a restroom here?” he asked, looking around.

Dan pointed in the direction of the restroom. It’d been a while since he last felt proper intimidated by his boss, but then again it’s been a while since he saw his boss this upset. He’d begun to associate bad mood Phil with Frank encounters. In that moment, he suspected that things between them could possibly go back to square one unless he did something about it.

“Here,” Phil said despondently, holding his fist out.

Dan opened his palm in confusion, and Phil dropped a key from his grip.

“You can just. Take care of yourself. Remove the toys and all that. I’ll wait for you here.”

Phil wouldn’t even look Dan in the eyes, and Dan was crushed by the 180º shift in Phil’s mood. They were both having fun before this, and he wanted nothing more than to forget that interruption by going back to the fun and complete their itinerary for the day, including their little game.

“No,” Dan found himself replying, “I’d like to continue.”

Phil looked incredulous at Dan’s response, it was rare of his boy to go against his orders.

“But I don’t.”

“Because of Frank?” Dan needed to make sense of it, he had let go of the very first muddle regarding Frank but now it’s all coming back again and worse because of all the progress they’ve made being dashed just like this.

Phil didn’t know how to respond. He just suddenly felt disgusted at himself for using and playing with Dan in public like this. He knew they were both having fun, and Dan was here telling him he wanted to continue so there was no reason to feel that way, but Phil just couldn’t continue. He knew he shouldn’t let Frank bother him at all, and they were making such good progress that he sometimes forgot that Dan wasn’t something more than his personal escort. But maybe forgetting that is a problem, and he might not have wanted the reminder in the form of Frank interrupting them, but maybe he’d needed it.

So he just sat back and sighed.

Dan took that as a yes to his question. He placed the key on the table and slid it back to Phil, adamant on continuing their day according to plan.

Phil had to ignore how his heart fluttered at the fact that Dan was insisting to continue their play, showing how much he truly wanted it and wasn’t doing it just because Phil made him and it was his job.

“Fine,” Phil said, looking at the key, “then let’s head back to the hotel.”

“Wha-” Dan was honestly getting upset at this point, “we haven’t even gone to the empire state building yet!”

“We can go there, only if you go to the restroom now and take everything off first. Or you can keep them on, and we’ll go back to the hotel.”

It was Dan’s turn to frown, and he folded his arms as he leaned back in his seat as well. He looked at the key. He’d be damned if he was going to let this moment ruin all the progress they’ve made and go back to all the boundaries and lines drawn between them because of a coworker or whatever Phil was so scared of.

“Fine,” he mimicked Phil, “let’s go back to the hotel.”

Phil was surprised by Dan’s decision, but he tried not to show it. This boy had the opportunity to explore a city he’d never been to like a normal tourist without Phil’s silly sexual games interfering and yet he’s choosing not to? Hell, he had the opportunity for relief after being denied the entire day, and yet he’s choosing not to have it?

“If that’s what you want,” he said, slowly pocketing the key.

Dan knew their day wouldn’t be fun anymore with a moody Phil in tow; there was no point in trying to explore the city further like nothing happened. So he nodded surely and got up, ready to leave this cafe that he won’t miss anymore.

-------

They walked the short distance back to their hotel in silence, only broken by the sound of leaves crunching under their footsteps. Central Park was dipped in beautiful gold and red, the sunset glow further illuminating the autumn leaves. The two men walked through the trees and the leaves falling around them, heads down and too occupied with their own thoughts to fully appreciate the beauty around them.

Phil felt as angry as the bright sunset rays warming his skin and the fiery red leaves he was stepping on. At Frank for interrupting their otherwise good day whether intentionally or not, at himself for still letting trifling things affect him, even at Dan for still foolishly being by his side despite his fickleness and hesitance on their relationship.

The tension followed them all the way to their room. Phil made sure that Dan saw him place the key for the toy on the bedside table, then wordlessly entered the shower.

Dan plopped onto the bed, wincing a bit as the plug in him shifted uncomfortably. He smushed his face into his pillow and groaned into it. He didn’t understand how Frank could influence Phil’s mood so drastically. He knew they needed to talk things out, and potentially disrupt their current arrangement and take the next step. Whatever ‘next step’ means, be it being something more or ending it all. But he had no idea how, and Phil seemed like he won’t speak up first either.

Dan listened to the steady shower stream, thinking about how just this morning, they shared the shower together. He glanced over at his chastity key. He still had no intention to unlock himself, though. It had turned from a display of submission to a statement of defiance for him. He wasn’t going to let Phil have his way right now.

Dan was too busy thinking about what to do after Phil’s done showering that he didn’t hear the first knock on the door.

He shot up from the bed when he heard it the second time. Cautiously, he approached the door and peeked through the peephole.

His breath got knocked out of his lungs. On the other side of the door was the cause of his current problems. Dan stood still, not knowing whether he should answer it or ignore. How did Frank even know that they were back already?

Frank knocked once more so Dan reluctantly opened the door a tiny fraction.

“Where’s Phil?” Frank asked once the door opened, unfazed that his boss’s wide-eyed boy was the one who answered.

-------------

ooo the cliffhanger! the suspense! can’t wait to find out what happens when I finally update in like 2 months lmao!

no but srsly I also have no clue what's gonna happen next omg lol how did this fic that was originally intended for purely office smut turn into *gestures vaguely* this

~Part 10~

~Part 12~

#phan smut #Phanfic #phan #smut #dan the personal assistant #My fic

27 notes · View notes

vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter 40, “Penultimate”

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Warnings: None

Word Count: 13.9k words (just shy of 14k!!!!! hmm i wonder why... *wink*)

Song: Say You’ll Be There by Spice Girls (click to listen)

SNEAKYYYYY PEEK

“Ya, Becks?” Harry responds, and I look back up to find his patient eyes on me. A smile bends his lips and I feel it fill me with courage, egging me on.

God, I’ve missed him. Those sparkly green eyes. His smile that can pull one from my own lips. His quirky jokes. God, his hugs, even if they’re not often enough. His dimpled cheeks covered with stubble that do something to me. And so does his ruffled curls that I missed seeing. I just- I missed him.

And that’s what makes the words fall from my lips.

"I tell myself I am searching for something. But more and more, it feels like I am wandering, waiting for something to happen to me, something that will change everything, something that my whole life has been leading up to."

- Khaled Hosseini, And the Mountains Echoed

If his suits weren’t going to kill me, surely the way he looked at me, and how he doted on me soon would.

He was somehow so patient with me, and God, when he would lean over me to show me something on the online database when we did research, I almost couldn’t resist him. It surely didn’t help my case when standing behind me, his hand would come over mine on the mouse to show me where to go to find newspaper articles I was looking for. At times, I thought it lingered a little longer than necessary, or that I felt a mysterious squeeze of his hand. What I was positive of, was that he could feel the clamminess of my hands and the thrashing of my heart as his warm hand showed mine the way.

Although with conflict, I was humbled when during my first two days, he acted differently outside of his office. He had a different air to him and carried himself in a separate way, but he was still the same person when we were around other people. I think I understood it though, and I came to adopt it too - treating him as my boss and peer when others were around. It saddened me to drop the friend act, but I knew it was for the best, and that this is what I signed up for to work with him. Like he so easily can, he smoothed over the wounds with how devoted he’s been to teaching me everything and in the right way. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and deep down, I was hoping he could teach me how to do that, too.

Sitting at my desk, that Wednesday morning, it all still seemed surreal. It would probably feel like the last two days weren’t a dream when Harry finished his early meeting this morning with Myles, and we’d start our day. For now, research it is for me, and a big mug of coffee to wake me up. I may or may not have stayed up late gushing to Skye all about my day again, and I don’t regret it one bit. It’s safe to say that after all of these years, Skye has always been the person I always want to tell first about everything, whether it’s good or bad. Well, the other person I want to tell everything to, I can’t really do when it’s about him.

My impatience was starting to show after an hour of being there and still not seeing him, even though he had told me yesterday he had a meeting. I wanted to tell him about this new song I heard on the drive to work that I think he’d like, and the new chocolate banana bread recipe I was hoping to try on him.

It all came rushing to the surface when I was coming back from a bathroom break and saw his door open, and his figure peeking out at me. After how many years of knowing him, and on day three of work, the mere sight of him can still send my stomach into knots.

“Morning, Harry. How was your meeting? Eight am is pretty early for one, you look pooped,” I greet him, strolling into his office and stopping in front of the two chairs sat before his desk.

“It was fine,” he answers quietly, messy curls bent over a stapled document he pages through. I wasn’t kidding with the comment, his hair looks like he’s run a hand through it a hundred times. I wonder why. For one of the first times, his coal suit is wrinkled and so is the mauve button up beneath it.

“I heard a George Ezra song this morning you might like, it’s called-,” I begin, wandering to the sofa where his coat is draped over the left side.

“Don’t get comfy,” he interrupts, followed by a clearing of his throat. He pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, something he’s always done when he’s nervous. This can’t be good. “You uh, can work in yer office t’day.”

“Oh,” I respond shortly, forgetting to hide the surprise leaking through in my voice. “For the whole day?”

Words are absent from his imprisoned lips, but they’re spoken when he nods his head firmly. It doesn’t make it any better when his eyes never leave the stupid document he’s looking at, fingers again lost in his shiny brunette locks.

“Did I do something wrong, Harry?” I ask tentatively and then with a nervous laugh, willing him to finally look at me, but I can’t get him to. That realization and this nightmare of sorts in front of me sends my stomach into spirals, pulling my heart along for the ride. “I’m sorry I was five minutes late today, it won’t happen again.”

“‘s fine, love, it happens. Ya didn’t do anythin’, I jus’ have some stuff t’ do and anotha meetin’ later,” Harry answers coolly, and I’m unsure of how long I can take this avoidant eye contact game.

“Can’t I help you with it?” the words don’t even finish leaving my lips and his head is shaking adamantly. “If it’s not my fault, then why are you banishing me to my office like it is? God, Harry, could you look at me when I talk to you? You said yesterday eye contact is everything in consults, speaking with colleagues, and in the courtroom, so why can’t you give it to me?”

“Jus’ work on tha witnesses and speakin’ t’ ‘em. See what they hafta say and if tha list we made has anybody useful on it,” he instructs blindly, veering to the left and away from anything I said. “‘ll text ya what ya can do afta that.”

“Fine, but you should know that mentors are supposed to communicate, Harry, and you’re not doing a very good job at it,” I almost retort, stomping out of his office and wishing I could slam the door. The tornado inside of my mind justifies it, and so does the sad realization I have that not once did he call me ‘Becks’ back there. That never happens, and it makes me grow queasy with worry about why not.

After returning to my office, and sat again at my desk, I pour over the last two days in my mind. I try to find something I did wrong, but the last two days had been wonderful. They were something out of a dream, just like this whole entire thing. Well, up until now, that is. We had already played two games of Scrabble, one win going to each of us, and I whooped his butt on the first day in cribbage. He blew me off my feet from the beginning, and seemed to accomplish it two days in a row.

“These are fer you. They’re yer welcome presents, I guess. ‘m sorry I forgot t’ bring ‘em yest’day, ‘m terrible,” Harry says after we bid the other a good morning, turning around with a lilac colored gift bag filled to the brim with white tissue paper.

“Harry, please. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted t’, and I did,” he smiles sweetly, nodding at me to open it. The specific word he said, ‘these’, interests me, as if the whole thing didn't enough.

“You better not make me cry again, you tend to do that with your presents,” I warn with a laugh, stepping forward and touching the feathery tissue paper.

“Bloody hell, such a cryer, ya are,” he giggles, but when I meet his eyes they’re warm and soft. He winks at me, and I swear I melt right then and there. I already had this morning when I stepped into his office and found him in a cream blazer wearing a black floral button up he had bought when I first worked for him, from the time he called me asking what shirt to wear to some charity event. “‘s okay, I like how often ya show yer emotions. I wish I was betta at doin’ that sumtimes, but ‘m glad ya like me presents, bug.”

“Yeah, you’re a great gift giver, and I mean it,” I remark, feeling my words tumble into nothingness when my fingers wrap around something. I know within seconds what it is, and it only gets better when I pull it out, and read my name across the front.

“I rememba ya said once ya like reds, and I couldn’t not buy it. I dunno if ya care fer a Cabernet, tho’,” Harry titters proudly from across me, cheeks lighting with a pink fire when I meet his eyes with sparks shooting between us.

“Thank you so much, I actually love Cabernet red wines. It’s perfect, Harry, and wow it’s named after me.”

“Good, ‘m really glad t’ hear that. Keep goin’, there’s more,” he comments, and when I raise my eyebrows at him, another happy laugh slips past his lips. “Rebecca Ann, open tha bleedin’ presents.”

I melt again at the mention of my full name, and the humor that always tags along when he says it, as well as the intimacy of sorts that joins the ride. I’ve never liked him calling me anything other than ‘Becks’, but somehow I’m really liking him calling me by my full name lately. A little too much sometimes.

I relent with a nod, and after setting down the bottle decorated with dark floral drawings, I dive back in. Confusion paints me in waves when my fingers wrap around a sleek box that ties my eyebrows into a knot. It relaxes when I bring it out to look at, and a giggle soon consumes my features.

“Figured ya needed one o’ yer own fer yer office, ‘s only right,” Harry explains, dimples collapsing into his happy cheeks as he waves a hand at the brand new Scrabble game I hold in my hands. My laugh joins his to sing a duet between us, and I soon doubt all of the other times I thought I loved him, because this one trumps all the others in some funny way. “We’ll hafta sneak inn’a game t’day. Go ‘head and look at tha next one, can’t wait t’ see what ya think.”

“Thank you,” I almost whisper, earning me a thankful nod from him as he eggs me on.

The bag below my hands still contains more objects and has yet to sag at the bottom, tissue paper tossed to the side. Oh, Harry, you sweetheart, you. Another box greets my hand, but this one is matte and the object on top of it is as well. Finally, tears arrive in my eyes when I bring it to meet them, because I know right away what this one is too.

“Harry,” I sigh happily, finding his grinning face across from me.

“Open it,” he tells me, nodding at the small rectangle weighing heavy in my hands.

I obey and with a difficult swallow, pull black the clasp of the metal rectangle that fits in my palm. For years, words I never thought I’d see, grace my eyes that refuse to work with the multitude of tears filling them.

“I hope ya like tha purple case fer yer cards, and tha purple on ‘em. Tha box inside is more o’em, but if ya don’t care fer ‘em there’s only fifty in there. I can help ya order whateva ya want once they run out, bug,” he explains, but I’m already shaking my head as I take one out to admire it. It feels smooth and crisp beneath my fingers, and I love how velvety it is. They’re everything I love about the card I once stole of a certain somebody’s I have hidden somewhere. “I rememba ya said once how ya loved mine, and this ‘s tha same besides y’know, tha color.”

“I love it so much, Harry, thank you. I can’t say it enough,” I barely get out between tears, brushing my thumb across the words.

It fills my heart with such immense happiness to see my name stamped into the card, sitting beside the name of his firm. This all really is a dream come true, and so is the mere fact of him standing in front of me smiling at me like now I’m the sun that shines on him. He’ll always feel like the sun shining on me, and I never want it to end. “Can I have a hug?”

“‘Course ya can, bug,” he coos, opening his arms to welcome me home. I try to avoid his almost white blazer with my mascara streaked face. The tears only come harder when I feel his lips press a greeting to my head. “‘m so glad yer back here with me, Becks . . . There’s one mo’ present tho’, I think you’ll love that one, too.”

My surprised giggle brushes against his chest, and his thumb catches a few tears when I pull away. He goes to hand me the present hidden in his palm, and when his hand opens, a laminated badge dangles from between two fingers.

“I can get ya a lanyard if ya want, but othawise it clips t’ sumthin’. Y’know I usually do me trouser pocket so ‘s outta sight, only really need it at tha courts and t’ get into rooms here, and there. I think yer photo turned out lovely tho’, ya look beautiful,” Harry croons as my fingers surround it, ceasing it’s dancing between his slender fingers. My name comes into view again now in formal black font, and the photo Harry took of me yesterday sits above it against the white background. “Yer lucky ya photograph well, ‘m countin’ down tha days ‘til I get a new one, and can redo my hack job.”

“Harry,” I chuckle, the tears appearing at the surface of my words and spilling over again when my eyes glide over to him.

Once again, his bottom lip is caught between his teeth anxiously. My heart feels very similar, caught between the both of us at the sound of his words, and that particular one he said that started with a ‘B.’ He really does know what he’s doing.

My laugh deepens when memories accompany the present, recalling him showing me his badge yesterday when we were talking about employee badges, and one time all those years ago. He claims to hate his, thinking he took a bad picture, but I think he looks handsome as ever from two years ago, although sad.

“You know me too well with all of this. It’s so sweet of you,” I confess, swiping a finger across my cheeks as his hand rests on my back, drawing shapes into my blazer.

“I hope those are all happy tears, bug.”

“They always are,” I admit quickly, trying to ignore the little lie held within my words, hoping he couldn’t know. I just wonder that if he had said it, if the same lie would be hidden between the words. The lie that doesn’t share that the slightest bit of melancholy and years of longing sit in those tears, wanting oh so much more.

I don’t know what went wrong, and no matter how hard I try, I feel like I’m to blame. More than anything, I don’t know what I did wrong, and I’m so confused. I feel like that emotion consumes me more than the others, but certainly not the sadness. When I think about the last two days, I can’t find anything I did wrong. Everything went well and he was his usual cheery self, and so patient when teaching me the way with so many things here.

Last night with him was one of my favorite times from the last few years with him. I said yes the second he called asking if I wanted to come over to his place to meet his niece and nephew, and to help babysit. I think it was part of the reason why I was so antsy to see him this morning, because I felt myself fall about five steps harder when he opened the door last night holding the baby. I fell about twenty more by the end of the night when we were slumped on the couch smiling at the other as we each held a sleeping kid, sparking too many wishful thoughts within my eager mind. He got it racing when words were exchanged between us about having families of our own one day, dreams piecing together in the air.

Especially after last night, I don’t know what went wrong. Somewhere deep down, I want it to be something I did, so I can fix it. I can’t find it, though, and because of that, I know it’ll be harder to fix since I don’t know what it is. I just want to find it already, because I can’t do this all over again, not when we’re so close. Now, it feels even further away.

The sound of the phone settling into the cradle resounds in my ears as the pen crisply draws a check mark on the paper. With a happy sigh, I stand to my feet and admire the finished checklist decorated with Harry’s handwriting, the most I’ve seen of him in the last several hours. Now that it’s all finished, I can finally go and see him. That only took three hours, I note inwardly with annoyance while opening my office door. The first thing I do is peer down the hall to his door, and once again, I find it closed. That doesn’t stop me, and soon I hear my heels clicking down the hall. The rapid beating of my heart climbs to match it as excitement soars through my body at the chance to see him again. As if spending hours calling potential witnesses wasn’t dreary enough, it was harder without him there across the room making faces at me, carrying fun conversations on the side together, or just looking unnecessarily hot while talking on the phone.

All that almost goes out the window when I stop in front of his door, and bite the bullet. After so many times of Harry telling me to stop knocking and just come right in, I barely tap my knuckle against the door before opening it. Like so many other things that are wrong with today, apparently this is, as well. It feels like an opposite day from a Dr. Seuss book when I see the look of horror on Harry’s face.

“Dontcha know how t’ bloody knock?! ‘m busy here!” he retorts with a curtness to his voice. A rushed ‘sorry’ dives from my lips when my eyes jump to the professional-looking stranger sitting in front of him. “Hmmm, what d’ya want then? Can’t it wait, or no, apparently ya didn’t think it could, did ya?!”

“It’s nothing,” I mumble to myself and only her, spinning around and stomping away from him.

Embarrassment floods my entire body in heavy sheets as the moment glues itself to the inside of my brain. It’s not so much what he said, but how he said it that causes my eyes to fill with tears. A slew of awful things stuck to his voice, and the worst I can’t even think about. Disappointment, disgust, anger, annoyance, and so many others that you don’t have on show for your friend. They come splashing onto my cheeks when the image of his angry face flashes in front of my eyes, and all of the other times I’ve seen it, but that was years ago. He promised this time would be different, and only three days in and he’s already broken that promise by bringing the old Harry back.

That must be a new record.

Appropriately enough, miserable raindrops race down the dark windows reaching above my head. I can’t remember the last time I saw it rain in January, but here it is, and it couldn’t feel more like it’s for me than it already does. It all feels like too much, and it grows to be far too much when I hear his voice.

“I reckon I shoulda looked here first, this has always been yer spot, here at tha balcony.”

Words escape my lips and any neural pathways between them and my mouth as his own tickle at my back. The tears replace them when the nickname he has for me flows from his lips for the first time today. He really does always know what to say, and when to say it. At this moment, I really hate that.

It’s not fair.

It all feels wrong when all I want is for it to feel right, and it rings true when his hand touches my shoulder. I try to ignore his surprised intake of air when I shrink away from his touch.

“Becks, please.”

“No, Harry. I love your nickname for me more than anything, but you don’t get to use it like that. You don’t get to drag it through the mud and forget it, and then use it to suck up to me. You can’t do that to me,” I growl with gritted teeth, keeping my back to him. Like so many times before, I wish this was all different, and with that thought, the tears make another return. “You didn’t even tell me you were meeting with anybody today, so how was I supposed to know you were busy?”

“I know, Becks, ‘m so sorry. ‘m not suckin’-.”

“Yes, you are . . . I want this second chance with you to be so much more, Harry, and you promised it’d be different,” I protest in a croaky voice, wishing he couldn’t hear the tears. I wish he didn’t know about them, but I already know he can hear them. He was right, we’re open books for each other to read, and I never found out how to close myself to him.

“Becks, I want it t’ be different too, please believe me.”

“But you already broke that promise three days in, Harry!” I exclaim, whipping around to find his devastated face. I didn’t think he could look more upset than he already does, but at the appearance of my tears, sadness paints his face in heavy stripes suddenly.

“It’ll be different, bug, I promise you that,” Harry pleads, emotion weighing on his eyebrows.

I really want to believe him and my gut tells me to, even the devil and angel do, but I’m afraid. I’m scared of how much it hurts me to see the tears welling in his eyes and the upsetting emotions knit into his features, all that I want to wipe away. I want to make it better for him, and I know it’ll never change. I’m so afraid of this all being for nothing in the end, and the risk I’m taking by being here.

“Then show me that,” I huff with defeat drowning under my sob, wiping a hand across my cheek as I pick up my feet and leave him standing there.

I do the thing that I hate most in the world, leaving him, and it doesn’t hurt any less this time. Perhaps surprisingly, I think that it hurts more this time to walk away from him, because I really wish I could do what it’s available, and stay.

It hurt again the next morning when I passed him in the halls, wishing something could be said. The ball isn’t in my court though, and even if it was, I don’t know if I’d take a hit. I’m really at a loss right now, and with only one day left until he leaves and that day also being his birthday, I hate this all the more. I didn’t think my hatred for it could grow any worse, but it does when he trickles into my office later that morning, and it wasn’t for the reason I wanted him to be there.

“I heard from a li’l birdy yer havin’ a hard time with tha Silver Net database,” Harry says slowly, bottom lip returning to between his teeth after his dreary words meet the air. Although sad, I can hear the sincerity behind his words that he tries and fails to project, showing the true Harry behind them. I only nod and return to typing on my laptop. “Lemme help.”

My body freezes and the denial swimming through my veins can’t find a way out as indecisiveness weighs heavily within me. It cripples me when he comes to stand behind me and to the side, and I’m unsure of how I feel about him being there. It’s either too far away, or too close. I can’t decide. I open up the database website from my bookmarks, feeling the awkwardness ensue as it loads.

“What’re ya strugglin’ with?” he asks slowly, and I know he feels it too. The tension that sits between us and every word he speaks.

“Searching by date,” I barely make out, suddenly aching for the times he wouldn’t hesitate to lean over me and place his hand over mine on the mouse. That time seems long gone, as do many others.

“Alright, login first,” he instructs, and I follow, annoyed when my shaky hands mess up my typing. “Search fer sumthin’, but don’t hit enter yet . . ‘Kay, now click on that drop down arrow there. It’ll list tha otha options fer search criteria.”

I try that and with his directions, I look for the filter to search for dates, but it’s not there.

“Well, what tha hell, did they change it in tha last week or sumthin’?” he grumbles from behind me, words finished with a sigh. “Wait, maybe ya went too far down tha page . . No, not that way- here, lemme help.”

He still doesn’t find it, and he won’t give up the mouse when I try to take it back, bumping hands ever so awkwardly.

“Becks, ‘m not done, ‘m tryna help.”

“I’m fine, just let me do it. I can use the other database instead if I need to,” I insist firmly, avoiding his eyes over my shoulder.

“No, ya gotta learn t’ use ‘em all ‘cuz they offa different stuff, so lemme help you.”

“Harry, I don’t want your help!” I exclaim loudly, finally whipping around to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, it’s not so fun being snapped at, is it?” I continue with another attack sent his way, and as soon as it meets the air, I regret it.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” I sigh adamantly, but it doesn’t work. None of this does, apparently.

“Fo’get it,” he exhales with a wave of his hand, already walking away and out the door. A groan fills my office as he almost slams my door, and that only fuels the fire raging within me, one of anger and sadness and frustration. Because of everything that’s missing, and soon he will be too.

My phone lands somewhere on the sofa, but it’s the last thing I care about right now as my lungs struggle for air. Carding a hand through my hair, a shaky exhale tickles at my curls. My eyes land upon the framed diploma behind my desk as I try and fail to swallow past the lump in my throat. How ironic that it’s the first thing I see after what just happened.

“Hey, looks like we’re both gonna be late fer our meetin’ t’day,” a voice pipes up from my doorway. I make the mistake of automatically looking to who’s speaking, and even with blurry eyes, I know it’s him. “Becks, what’s tha matter? Alright?”

Shaking my head, an onslaught of tears flood my eyes as Harry stands across from me with worry tying his face into knots. With trembling lips, I clear my throat, “No,” I admit, my voice breaking before I even spoke.

Him leaving soon, and now the events of the last two days have left my heart in shambles, one that was just leaving its armor to greet him again. It breaks a little more when he crosses the room in a few large steps, but keeps a few in between us. Too many.

“I hate it when we fight. I don’t want to fight with you,” I confess randomly, but it couldn’t speak more to the truth.

“Hey, we’re not fightin’, bug,” he coos, finally stepping forward and crouching down to look at me at eye level. When I try to argue, he shushes me in a soft tone, thumbing away a tear that falls down my cheek.

“Can I have a hug, Harry?” I sob, and his nod is instantaneous. With few doubts, I know that this is what I’ve needed all along. What we’ve needed, because his hugs always fix everything.

“‘Course, Becks, ya don’t hafta ask, babe. Come on ova, me favourite lawyer,” he smiles, mirroring my movements when I get to my feet and fall into his arms. A giggle sputters from my lips at his comment, but the tears drown the sound of it as I bury my head into his chest clad in all black. “Let it all out, bug.”

A feeling I’ve missed for longer than it’s really been falls over me. Safety, and with that comes comfort and relief. God, I really hate fighting with him, or anything that takes him away from me, I muse amongst my racing thoughts. A smile tries at my lips when he smooths back my hair and presses a kiss to my hairline, holding my head to his chest. My chest hiccups against his as I grab handfuls of his matte blazer. Relief grows buds across my body as his fingers track a course through my hair, and the other five massage circles into my back.

“D’ya wanna talk ‘bout whateva it was that happened?”

Nodding my head into his chest, I try not to feel bad about my makeup smearing all over his black suit, but I could live here forever. I can’t handle the thought right now of pulling away when he’s holding me so close.

“It was just my psycho parent calling for their usual guilt trip.”

“Oh, ‘m sorry you had t’ deal with that recently as well,” he comments much to my surprise, warm words dancing over my head.

“Your dad called you to do the same thing?” I question with raw shock coating my words, pulling away to look into his eyes, the tears starting to abate.

“Ya, yestaday mornin’ befo’ me meetin’. That’s why I was an asshole all day, and t’ you.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” I confess, sniffling and his head shakes from side to side quickly with sullen eyes.

“No, ‘m sorry, Becks. It sounds bloody stupid ‘cuz it was, but I didn’t wanna work togetha yest’day ‘cuz I didn’t wanna take my problems out on you. I still fookin’ did when I snapped at ya, and jus’ by pushin’ ya away. ‘m so sorry, bug, I didn’t mean t’ hurt you. ‘ve done that so many goddamn times ova tha years, and I can’t live with meself doin’ it anymo’. Tha shit with Amber, tha seven month phone tag, tha way I snapped at you yestaday-.”

“Harry, stop. It’s okay,” I say, barging into his sentence. Words come to life on his lips again, but I shake my head vehemently, pressing a finger to them. “It’s all in the past, I want to forget it.”

“But ‘s not ‘kay, Becks. I dunno how ‘ll make it up t’ ya, and show ya that I promise things will be different this time,” he sighs sadly, tears drowning the darkness of his green eyes. Mine had started their departure, but now, they return slowly at the sight of his.

“You already have, right now,” I tell him, catching the first tear that falls from his left eye. “I’m sorry about what happened with your dad. Would it help to talk about it?”

“Ya . . . he rang fer his usual guilt trip that started with makin’ me feel bad fer not talkin’ t’ him or visitin’. Worst o’ all, he finally found out that I went with anotha company than his fer tha remodel. ‘m surprised he didn’t blow a gasket, ‘cuz it sounded as if he had,” Harry retells, blowing a breath past his rose colored lips.

“It looks like we both lucked out in the psycho parent department . . I’m really sorry about that, Harry, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I dunno, sumtimes he makes me feel like I do,” he shrugs, licking his lips. “What did yer mum have t’ guilt you ‘bout, bug?” he next asks, eyebrows sewn together with a question.

“You didn’t deserve it, Harry, don’t listen to him . . Oh, my mum yeah, well for never telling her I was going back to uni, which was a low blow since that was years old. Then, she had to hear from my gran - bless her soul, but she talks too much - that I graduated and didn’t invite my mum, or tell her that I got my first lawyer job here, and for not talking to her too,” I share, finding that the breaths are coming to me easier, one by one.

“‘m sorry, Becks, ‘s not right o’ her t’ treat ya that way. Ya don’t owe her bloody anythin’ and from tha sounds o’ what you’ve told me, she has herself t’ blame fer not gettin’ t’ be there.”

“Thank you, and the same goes for you too, Harry. You didn’t have to use his construction company for your remodel, and it’s completely okay that you didn’t,” I comment, waving my hand across his back as a content smile teases on his face. “I don’t know why they think they’re entitled to a relationship with us just because they’re our parent, and shitty ones at that.”

“Tell me ‘bout it, they’re fookin’ mad. Think ‘s okay t’ treat their children like shit and like it’ll help their case, bloody swear there’s sumthin’ wrong in their heads,” he tuts, shaking his own as his eyes roll into the back of his head at his sentence. His eyes return to mine soon and they hold me there as he erases the last few tears lingering on my cheeks. “Enough o’ that, are ya alright, Becks?” I answer his question with a simple nod and the beginnings of happiness tickling my lips.

“Are we alright?” I risk slowly, realizing for the hundredth time that I could stare into his green eyes for the rest of eternity.

“Yes, bug, we’re good now. D’ya agree? ‘m really sorry fer snappin’ at ya yest’day, and fer ignorin’ ya,” Harry says, and I quickly confirm with a soft ‘yes’. I’m rewarded with a dazzling sunshine smile that begins to warm me from the feet up. “So, what d’ya say t’ hidin’ out inn’a conference room and watchin’ FRIENDS with some chicken gnocchi soup afta we block our parents’ numbas? Reckon we need t’ start tha bloody show already t’getha.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you too, revenge never solves the problem. I know you were only trying to help me with the database,” I reply, receiving my answer when he squeezes my bicep affectionately. “Wait, but our team meeting, Harry. It’s to go over next week with you being gone,” I protest and his breathy laugh tickles my face.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. ‘s already started. ‘ll text My’ right now lettin’ him know sumthin’ came up, which ‘s true. We can meet up with him later t’ go ova what we missed,” he explains swiftly. I hold back a sigh when his arms leave me entirely to fish his phone from his pocket, eyes flitting to me. “Alright?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Ya, ‘m good now. I got me Becks back,” he grins at me, winking before returning his wet eyes to his phone. They’re only gone for a few moments and then they’re on me again. “C’mon, Boops, let’s go get tha show set up. I think there’s a firestick in one o’ tha conference rooms on tha tv, can’t bloody rememba why tho’.”

I thought the next day would be easier, getting off the lift onto Seventeen, now that Harry and I had made up. Now, that we had connected even more it seemed over our shared parent trauma, and everything he said in his actions yesterday had changed things.

Regardless, it was only harder to step off the lift and to walk into my office, noticing his ajar door down the hall that all of next week will be closed. He had said yesterday while we set up FRIENDS that he’ll leave me a spare key to his office in case I need anything, like a book or something, but it still hurts. I don’t think I could convince myself to use it and go into his office, even if I did happen to need something.

My heart still aches at the sight of his door, and knowing that although it’s only nine days, I know from the last time that nine days of missing him felt like far more. I don’t even want to imagine what it will feel like this time, because I already know it will be hell.

After dropping off my stuff in my office and clocking in, I roamed around trying to find Harry. First, he wasn’t in his office surprisingly, nor the break room, or any of the conference rooms. I almost gave up entirely until I heard his voice trailing from the copier room where Mick left from, waving a hand to somebody in there. Was it him?

I struck gold when I opened the door and found him standing in front of the copier, an ebony button up cloaking his figure dotted with bright sunflowers. Flowing mustard slacks matching the color of the flowers cascade down his legs, and my oh my, does his hair look incredible, just like the rest of him. It hangs over his forehead in satiny curls, parted in the middle, and somewhere deep down I’m begging to touch it.

So, this is what 30 on Harry looks like, huh? It’s something else entirely, and holy shit, am I fan of 30 on him. He hasn’t heard my arrival yet, and instead, clucks his tongue as he does something on the copier. Feeling brave and sick of this whole game, I tip toe over to him and wind my arms around his waist.

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” I announce softly, bending my body to the side to look at his surprised face as he jumps.

“Bloody hell, Becks, ya gave me a fright, bug,” he exhales, a chuckle soon following his words. Releasing him much to my dismay, I step over to stand at his side, folding my hands in front of me.

“It’s not a birthday without a surprise.”

“I reckon so now,” he comments, waving the handful of papers at me with that dazzling smile framed by dark stubble. “Sorry, tha copier ‘s actin’ up ‘gain, ‘spose makin’ a few copies ‘s too much t’ ask fer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How’s the first day of your thirtieth year going otherwise?” I pose to him, discreetly pulling at the stomach of my plum long-sleeved dress that falls to my knees.

“Becks, don’t say it that way, yer makin’ me feel old,” he whines, sarcasm sticking to his words, but I also sense some truth there as well.

“Stop it, you’re not old, Harry!” I laugh, and he points his narrowed eyes at me with pouting lips. I swat at his arm playfully, and finally the pout dissolves into his delicious giggle.

“I know, Becks, ‘s jus’ hard turnin’ thirty.”

“How come?” I ask curiously, flashing back to the break room with Myles and what he said about Harry turning the big three-o.

“Coz I thought ‘d be married with kids by now, ‘s kinda sad t’ think’.”

“You have plenty of time to still do all of that,” I insist, squeezing his arm and he shows a brief smile, punching in options on the copier’s touch screen.

“I know, but ‘m ratha impatient, if ya didn’t notice.”

“So much for you saying that lawyers need to have patience,” I joke and he answers it with a nod, a melancholy smile sitting on his lips.

“I thought I’d have all of that too by twenty-six, but it’ll happen one day, I know. You can’t rush life.”

“Ya, I really hope so. There’s nuthin’ mo’ that I want than t’ be a dad one day,” he muses aloud, the words tugging at my heart strings, and nudging one of the last pieces of the shell away from my heart.

“I bet you’ll be a great dad, your kids will be lucky.”

“Ya think so?” Harry wonders aloud, returning his eyes to me once again. I find myself melting in front of him, it having happened too many times now to count. “I jus’ don’t wanna fook up like my dad did.”

“You won’t, Harry. I know it’s hard to not worry, because I feel the same way. I don’t want to be the kind of mum mine was, and sometimes it makes me not want to become a mother at all, in fear of that.”

“Hey, don’t talk that way. Tha man who gets t’ marry you one day and have a family with you ‘s tha luckiest in tha whole world, and yer kids as well. Yer too kind fer yer own good, and ya always take such good care o’ those ya love, Becks. I have a feelin’ you’ll be a wondaful motha one day,” Harry hums, the words finding their way straight to my heart, and stealing all of mine away.

“Thank you so much,” I reply adamantly, feeling a warmth spread over my body as his sunshine dawns on me. Stepping forward, I stand a little higher to press a kiss to his prickly cheek. “You’ll find the right one and have a lovely family soon too, I’m sure. They’ll all be so lucky, Harry.”

I almost think I see tears filling his eyes, but I’m not sure, and then within seconds I’m proven right. With his actions, he almost brings them to my eyes when his hand pulls mine into his, and his forehead meets mine for an affectionate little bump.

“Thanks, babe. Dunno what ‘d do without ya and yer motivational speeches sumtimes,” he smiles, stealing a kiss from my forehead as he squeezes my fingers between his own gently.

“Welcome,” I answer, missing the feeling of his head against mine, and all of the words it said. As well as how close we were to each other, and in so many ways. “Do you have any fun plans for your big day?”

“Nah, jus’ indoor rock climbin’ with Rory this aftanoon. ‘m already gettin’ ratha borin’ in me old age. I gotta save me energy fer me flight t’night.”

“You should do more to celebrate, Harry. It’s your day. You get to do whatever you want, and be whoever you want today. You call the shots,” I contend, hoping the words stick and that they don’t sound cheesy.

“Wow, I didn’t know it was Halloween, Becks,” he jokes, eliciting a sigh from me.

“Not what I meant,” I exhale, teasing lining my words as my hand slips from his, and my feet leave him.

“‘m kiddin’, bug. Don’t leave,” he begs, footsteps following mine and my hand returning to his. “Yer right, tho.’”

“Wait, I’m what? I don’t think I heard you,” I hum happily, eyes lighting with a playful fire that dance over to his.

“Rebecca Ann,” he protests, trying to hold back a smile, but it makes its way through the clouds to shine on me.

“Harry . . . “

“Edward,” he answers softly, finishing my sentence for me. I keep finding myself being dealt with surprises, and being proven wrong, because here I am falling again.

“Harry Edward,” I speak gently, focusing on the way each word feels coasting off of my tongue. “I like it.”

The smile bending his lips drops the dimples into his cheeks that round out as it climbs his face. It remains there for the rest of the day, gracing my eyes often, and I only wish that mine didn’t have to leave. I just wish that he could stay here with me always, wrapped up in this blissful moment; words, hands, and eye contact all intertwined with the other.

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, hey, Harry. Let’s go to your surprise party.’ I’m the worst at lying and he knows it, so why are you making me do it?” I whine, hearing a ‘shhh’ that I shake my head at. “He can read me like a book, Myles, he’ll figure it out.”

“You’ll be fine, Becky. Why don’t you just tell him that myself and Pete are in the west conference room wanting his opinion on something? That’s believable enough, and try to say it with as straight of a face as possible.”

“Fine,” I relent, stomping away and down the wall. A deep breath struggles to settle inside my body when I stop a few steps away from Harry’s door. Instantaneously, my heart calms at the sound flowing from his office, not one but rather two.

Pushing the door open, I find him sitting back in his office chair, scrolling through a page on his iMac. Loud nineties music pours from the black JBL bluetooth speaker on a shelf, a song I somehow missed that we both love. Now, I won’t let the chance fly right past me.

“Stop right now, thank you very much! I need somebody with a human touuuuuuuch. Hey you, alllllllways on the run, gotta slow it down baby, gotta have some funnnnnn!” I loudly sing along with him, watching his eyes lift to me, and the happiness that fills them.

“Gotta keep it down honey, lay yer back on tha line. ‘Cause I don’t care about tha money, don’t be wastin’ my time!” he belts out in return with hands and eyes raised to the ceiling passionately. He uses his own loud and poor singing voice as well that melts into a loud laugh. “Didn’t peg ya fer a Spice Girls fan, Becks,” he comments after turning down the song that now hums in the background.

“Oh yeah, I’ve always loved them. I had all of their CDs, I watched their movie so many times I ruined the tape, and their posters covered my walls. It was worrying at times how much I loved them,” I joke, admiring the crinkling of his eyes as happiness spreads across his face.

“Ya sound like me sista, she was proper obsessed with ‘em. Growin’ up inna house with only girls, I got dragged into tha stuff they liked at times, but ‘m glad I did with tha Spice Girls. They have some o’ tha best songs t’ jam out t’.” With an agreeing nod, my hands settle on the crest of the left chair facing his desk.

“Which one is your favourite?”

“Um, I dunno, I think Baby Spice. She has a wicked voice, was always funny, and so bloody cute. I mean, they all had killer voices, tho’. How ‘bout you, bug?” he answers, twirling a pen around in his fingers as we speak.

“No way?! Mine is Baby Spice too, so it looks like I don’t have to break up with you over that, either!” I tease, watching sunshine paint his face and warm me from the center. He nods wholeheartedly and wags a finger at me with that breathy giggle tickling my ears. “I don’t really know why, I feel like a favorite thing like that always chooses you. I connected with her somehow, like I feel like I connected with my favourite Pokemon,” I laugh and a raspy confirmation falls from his lips. “Anyways, I came to tell you that Myles and Pete were asking for you. I ran into one of them out there, and they wanted your advice on something. They’re in the west conference room, I don’t know what they’re working on.”

“Ah, okay. Shall we go see what they’re up t’?” Harry says, and my nodding head answers his question. I follow him out of his office, feeling relief when I exhale, thinking I may have gotten away with it.

At his side on our way to the conference room where all of the lawyers, Asher and a few others from I.T. wait to yell ‘surprise!’ at Harry, I fall back into a memory. I hadn’t thought about it for awhile, but suddenly, I recall the surprise party I was thrown here. It was for my going away party, and with that remembrance, my heart takes a little dive. I find it ironic that Harry organized my surprise party then, and now, I’m walking him to his surprise party I organized. The circle of life, I guess. I sure am glad this party will be a much happier occasion, or so I hope, considering Harry told Myles he didn’t want anything. A part of me worries he’ll be upset and annoyed, and will hide it in fear of disappointing Myles and I.

Luckily, the conference rooms here aren’t made of glass walls and so none of my secrets come pouring out before they have to. When Harry opens the door casually, a loud ‘SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!’ sounds from the long room. With clenched fists in my pockets, I wait for his reaction, and am pleasantly surprised when the sunshine makes another appearance on his face. It collapses into laughter marked by reddening cheeks as he steps forward to give hugs, and I wander over to Asher.

“Again, why are you over here talking to me?” he asks me about ten minutes later, handing me a beer after uncapping it.

“What?” I reply, my eyes panning over to him with confusion dawning in them.

“You should be talking to Harry, considering it was your idea to throw him a birthday party, which he looks pretty happy about.”

“It wasn’t all my idea, Ash, it was Myles’ too,” I respond, turning the bottle in my hands to look at the label when I find I actually like it. That’s a first for me enjoying beer, but maybe that’s because my dad and Robbie only ever enjoyed the shitty cheap kind that tasted like watered down piss.

“Sure it was, I bet it wouldn’t have even happened if it weren’t for you. Wait, does he even know who he has to thank for all of this?”

“It’s not that deep, Ash, it’s just a simple birthday party,” I answer, shrugging my shoulders as I pick up my slice of pizza to take a bite from it.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I’m also his employee and his colleague, Ash, it’s different at work- well, outside of closed doors,” I sigh, glancing over to Harry who laughs loudly at something Mick said, a blonde girl at his side, eyeing him up. Ugh.

“Sorry, I forgot that part, you can’t really get past that.”

“No, you can’t,” I comment softly, my brow falling in concentration as my eyes follow the girl’s tall figure, and Harry’s eyes over to her. “I hate it, it’s so hard sometimes.”

“No duh- wait, what is it exactly? I thought you lawyers were supposed to be good with your words, or something,” he teases, and I meet his eyes that all playfulness leaks out of when he sees mine.

“That, Ash. A girl flirting with him and I can’t do anything about it. It’s so hard having to act like ‘we just work together’ outside of closed doors when he’s become my best friend all over again. A best friend who holds my hand and kisses my cheek behind closed doors,” I exhale, setting the paper plate down on the long oval table in front of us, my appetite suddenly absent. “I know I shouldn’t get so upset, but . . “

“But it’s hard when you’ve felt so strongly about somebody for years, and things are starting to happen. Am I right?”

My head shakes with a nod as I pick at the plastic label peeling on the dark beer bottle. A sorry falls from his lips softly that I don’t acknowledge, because ‘sorrys’ are never not awkward, I feel like.

“Ask him out already, Becky, you know that you want to.”

“I know, Ash, but I couldn’t handle starting all of that when he’s going to be gone for a week. It would drive me insane missing him, even more than I know I’m already going to. I’m waiting until he gets back,” I explain, sure I don’t make any sense, but I don’t make any sense to myself sometimes, either.

“You’re waiting a week either way, wouldn’t you rather wait a week and be a little happier after telling him how you feel?”

“I know. You’re right, and I wish you weren’t . . You know what, I’m going to go and use the bathroom before everybody starts seeing me cry,” I admit self-deprecatingly in a long exhale, the tears already pressing at the back of my eyes.

I hate that I’m getting sad when this is supposed to be a happy time, but it gets all the harder when I remember that Harry leaves tonight for over a week. He nods, patting my arm after taking my beer before I leave the room, emotions racing through my head.

So many desires, too, that I wish I could have fulfilled already.

“What, you didn’t know? How the fuck didn’t you?”

“Didn’t know what?” I question, taking a swig from my beer as I wait for his answer. His face is screwed up in disbelief for only a second and then it relaxes, still making me feel stupid for not knowing.

“It was Becky who did all of this. Granted, I wanted to do something for you, but you never would have let me, you prick. She came to me and insisted on throwing you a party. I just bought the pizza and the beers. I already know she’ll be a wicked lawyer with that fire in her. She made the cake as well, and stayed late last night to help set up,” Myles explains, and now my facial features do a dance of their own as I stare back at him dumfoundedly. “I can’t believe you didn’t know, you bloody idiot. Even more proof she’s mad about you.”

“Fookin’ hell, ‘course it was all her, and I haven’t even said a word t’ her this whole time,” I huff, my arm dropping to my side as conflict rages through my limbs. Tearing my eyes away from Myles, my excited eyes dance across the room looking for her, but she’s nowhere to be found. “Hold this, would ya?”

“Fuck, Hare, go bloody snog her already. Reckon it’s the only thing you can do to make up for being such a bleeding idiot not knowing it was her who did all of this.”

“Shuddup already, My’,” I retort, shoving the beer into his hands as my feet pick up, electricity coursing through me. I take another cursory look around the room and again. She’s gone, but he isn’t.

“Where’s Becks?” I hurriedly say to Asher who busies himself with his phone in the corner, two beer bottles clutched between the fingers of his other hand. His eyes flit to me and I think I’ve caught him off guard. “I reckon that’s her beer, so where’d she go?”

“To use the loo.”

I don’t manage a reply with the impatience dominating my actions, but he doesn’t let me get very far when I hear his voice again, saying my name.

“I don’t think she can wait anymore,” is all he says and right away, I know what he means.

“Neither can I.”

Now, it’s his turn to nod, but I hardly see it as I’m already walking out of the room. My legs hurry down the hallway, feet pounding on the tiled floor towards the break room and nearby bathrooms. Something makes me pause when I reach her office, and there I find her with her back to me in front of the floor to ceiling window. I’m reminded of how stunning she looks in that knee length, long sleeved, plum dress that threw me for a loop this morning. I realize belatedly the smile pulling my lips towards my eyes, and the butterflies fluttering in my chest as so many thoughts fill my head.

“Ya’ve escaped on me, bug, how come?” I decide to say, taking a step into her office that’s slowly becoming hers. I catch glances of the framed pictures lining her desk, and the fun we had the other day looking at them. Seen in them are her and her dad, her and Robbie as kids and then as adults, and a similar two parter with now and then pictures of herself and Skye. I’m still waiting for the day I see myself in one of them. “Alright?”

“Yeah, of course. I could never be sad on your birthday, the day you were born,” she answers, but I don’t need to see her speak to make out the conflicting evidence in her voice. She also doesn’t hide the surprised inhale when I wind my arms around her middle from behind, and press a soft kiss to her temple. Fuck, I haven’t had something feel this right in such a long time, and yet it never feels like enough. “What are you doing? My door is wide open, and anybody could see, Harry. You’re my boss.”

“I don’t care, ‘m their boss too. I wanted t’ give you a hug. Myles jus’ told me tha party was all yer idea, that ya came t’ him and insisted on doin’ it. I had no idea, Becks, and ‘m sorry. ‘ve neva had a good surprise party ‘til now, y’know. ‘m already lovin’ it, bug, ya had all me fav’ things there - pizza, beers, a chocolate cake with bloody Power Rangers figures on it, and cute li’l party decorations,” I hum against her head where my cheek rests, watching her eyelashes flutter below me as she laughs.

“You actually like it? I was afraid that you’d hate it, you’ve never been one for surprises. Myles said you didn’t want anything like it, so I was doubting myself all up until the last second.”

“No, I love it, babe. It was so thoughtful and sweet o’ you. I didn’t want anythin’, but ya made it all so special with me fav’ things. Y’know, ‘m dyin’ t’ try yer cake,” I tell her, watching that one dimple fill her left cheek that I don’t think she even realizes she has, but damn, the things it does to me when I see it.

It’s been a whirlwind of emotions, thoughts, and wishes ever since she walked back through the doors of the firm, and it’s like she never even left. Too often, I’m made aware of how many times the both of us left in the past, and they only make me want to never leave again. It’s the very thing I have to do tonight and I don’t know how I’m going to survive being away from her for nine days, when I had just gotten her back.

“We should probably go back and sing you happy birthday, it’s about that time.”

Another wave of feelings hits me when she turns around in my arms, and I see the traces of spent tears in her eyes that I brush away with my thumb. My hand falls from her and finds her trembling fingers I caress with my own. It contradicts the happiness filling me, and propels me forward and towards her lips. I watch them curl into a smile that echoes in her eyes, and mirrors my own. I’m seconds away from mine touching hers when I hear a voice, and not the one I want.

“There ya are, Hare! I know you hate having happy birthday sung to you, but let’s get it over with,” Myles jests from behind me as my eyes stare out the window, debilitating disappointment covering me in sheets.

“Ya, be there inna sec,” I retort, a sigh finishing my words as my eyes fall to her. It’s a wonder to me how she can hide hers so well, because she just stares up at me in awe, stealing all of my frustration away in the moment.

“Fookin’ My’,” I laugh, and her adorable one follows mine while I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger.

“Let’s go and sing to you, birthday boy,” Becks says with a grin, but I can hear it in her voice where she thinks she can hide the sadness. I’m afraid there’s not much she can hide from me after all of this time, and I know that the same goes for me with her. “We have all the time in the world when you get back from your trip,” she comments softly with a squeeze of my hand, and I realize she’s right. Not just that, her words slowly click with me, piecing a puzzle together that’s nearly finished. A puzzle over two years in the making. A silent understanding passes between us, and finally, she reveals that she also wants to wait to start things until I’m back. Although I’m sad, I’m grateful for it too, because I wouldn’t be able to handle leaving her tonight for over a week if I had just kissed her now. I can barely handle the thought of leaving her, as it is.

“We do, don’t we, bug?” I concur aloud and she nods as I squeeze her hand in return, my feet lifting from the ground. So does my heart, as the secret I finally found out resounds with me.

I don’t want to wait the nine days until I come back, but I know that I should. I know that we’re holding the other to it now, and it fills me with a cooling sensation of relief. After fucking over two years of waiting, I guess I can wait another nine days, even if there’s little stopping me from kissing her right now.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t get single candles, Becky, or else Harry here would be setting off the smoke alarms blowing those out,” Jennings comments from across me as an orange flame appears at the end of the lighter. My laugh joins those of the others in the room as the two candles, a 3 and a 0, come to life.

Setting down the lighter, I stand back and join the crowd surrounding the table, the song beginning from our lips. ‘Happy Birthday’ fills the room as Harry stands in front of the cake with pink, dimpled cheeks and a nervous excitement coating him. A hand hides in his pockets as the other comes to cover his face until the last line. His green eyes float over to me and remain there as he leans down, large hands pressed to the table as he blows out his candles.

“Oooo, Harry’s got a girlfriend!” several people exclaim at the sight of one lit candle remaining, those green eyes still glued to me with a sparkle inside of them. He’s really fucking testing my patience today.

I swear to God, Harry.

A nervousness sits at the edge of my actions and words as I cut the cake and serve it, Harry soon stealing me away to the side to gush about how much he loves it. I couldn’t stop replaying the moment from my office in my head as I ate my own slice and soon disappeared to there again, worried I forgot to wrap a present or left one at home.

“Ya keep runnin’ away from me, bug, what’s goin’ on?” Harry chirps from my doorway, sauntering into my office when I turn around, shutting the door behind him. “Ooooo, are those me presents I see? Holy shit, Becks, ya didn’t hafta get me so many o’ ‘em.”

“I wanted to. I finally get to spend your birthday with you after all these years,” I smile with a shrug of my shoulders, a nervous laugh falling from his blushing lips.

“I knew I saved tha best fer last.”

“Sit down,” I say, picking up the Power Rangers bag I’m amazed I found at the shops.

“Bloody hell, Ms. Holte is gettin’ bossy.” I chuckle along with him as I set the bag at his feet, finding a seat on the sofa next to him. He winks at me as he pats my knee and I give in, scooting closer to leave only a few inches between us.

The smiles on the both of our faces grow with every present he unwraps, and my anxious heart relaxes. I’m not sure which he enjoyed most, the whiskey and oak candle he smelled at my house once that he loved, the multicolored guitar strap with Keith Haring art, the FRIENDS mug full of quotes in the same font, Paul McCartney’s album RAM on a pristine vinyl, the blush button up decorated with black outlines of roses, or the one I was saving for last.

“Becks, you didn’t,” he giggles, saying that line for perhaps the third time now as I set the lidded metal pan in his hands.

“I know your first pan is already gone, so here’s another one.”

“Love, ‘m gonna get fat from all o’ these brownies,” he titters, patting the lid happily before his eyes return to mine. “Ya spoil me too much.”

“I know,” I agree, the tears soon taking hold of my words. “But I really missed my best friend this last year, and I’m going to miss him even more when he’s gone next week,” I sigh, the tears peeking out in my voice.

“Becks,” he hums sadly, setting the pan down on the floor before pulling me into his arms. “I missed me best friend as well, too bloody much, I reckon. So much so that I don’t want t’ leave her fer tha next week,” he reveals, emotion stealing the balance from his voice.

“Can I come with you the next time?”

“‘Course bug, ‘m sorry it didn’t work out this time. It was jus’ too short notice. I wish ya could, tho’,” he responds, his long fingers donning his many rings leaving warm circles on my back.

My nod answers his sentence as my hands find the satiny fabric of his button up, one daring to play with a curl of his before cupping his shoulder. My tears dry up on my cheek pressed to his shoulder, but they threaten a return when he kisses the top of my head, making me wonder when the next time will be that I get another.

“Y’know, Rore was s’posed t’ go rock climbin’ with me t’day, but he called in sick. I figure he’s prolly jus’ hungova, but ya said I get whateva I want on me birthday, so I want ya t’ come with me instead,” Harry announces, squeezing me in our hug before I look up at him.

“I’ll have to stop home for some different clothes.”

“That’s fine, we can ride togetha in my Rover and we’ll stop by yer flat,” he explains, and I hum a happy ‘okay’ as he brushes the back of his fingers across my cheeks. “Don’t want me birthday t’ end jus’ yet, ‘m havin’ so much fun with me best friend.”

The blinking cursor stares back at me, and yet I can’t find the motivation to write anything. My thoughts are too immersed in the events of today. My arms around his waist, and then his around mine. My hand in his before he almost kissed me in his office, and again during the ride to and from the indoor rock climbing place. We agreed on listening to Spice Girls in the car, and during the too relatable parts in the songs ‘Say You’ll Be There’ and sometimes in ‘2 Become 1’, I felt his hand squeeze mine and I held his a little tighter at those moments, too.

I couldn’t count the number of times we laughed while tucked into those harnesses, my hands and feet slipping on the grips of the rock wall. I knew he was competitive, but holy shit, he proved me wrong this afternoon. He did it again when I thought I knew how good he looked in tight jogging sweats, but I learned about it all again from my often vantage point below him on the wall.

I’ve been trying to avoid the purple clock in my office for what feels like hours, but I know it hasn’t been that long. The time had gone by faster than I thought it had when I finally look, my limbs suddenly feeling heavy when the clock reads 4:08 pm. I try to return to my work, typing up the last few sentences for the final document for his- our case. I can’t, knowing he’ll be leaving any minute now, and not knowing how I’m going to say goodbye to him. All of these times, we’ve said it, but never knew it would be the last one for a while. I almost miss that ignorance, almost.

“Ya might break it, if ya stare at it any harder, bug.” Hastily looking to my doorway, there he is with his Northface on and messenger bag at his side. “C’mere,” he says softly, a sadness clinging to his voice and the hand he waves towards himself.

I oblige and within moments, I let my head fall to his chest, my cheek brushing against his exposed skin and metal necklace.

“Nine days is a long time,” I mumble, my hands falling to rest at the middle of his back.

“Feels that way fer me too.”

“It’ll be okay, though,” I hum hopefully, savoring the feeling of being tucked away safely in his arms.

“Ya, it will, won’t it?” he responds gently, one hand waving goodbyes against my back and the other cupping my head to his chest. I almost start crying again when he plants a kiss on the top of my head, his special spot. “Ya, it’ll be okay, Becks. You’ll learn loads from Myles, and ‘ll still be there blowin’ up yer phone like usual with texts and calls.”

A moment of happiness flows from my mouth at his words, and a few seconds of his giggle joins mine.

“I’m going to really miss you,” I finally voice aloud for him to hear, but it doesn’t feel like enough for what I’m feeling. The dread, the anxiousness, the debilitating sadness, the frustration, and the anger I feel towards the world. He almost succeeds in ridding my body of their nervous trembles, but what will I do when I can’t go to him for a hug when I need to calm down or when I just want one?

“‘m gonna miss ya mo’, bug.”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now? Why of course it is with you,” I scoff, lifting my head to meet his eyes that brew a concoction of bittersweetness.

“I guess so, Boops,” he smirks, tapping the point of my nose. For a while there, it felt like a blind competition of who was going to make the first move between us, but now, I trust we’re both planning to wait until he returns, and is back for good. When we both are. “Y’know, me case could get done early or take longa.”

“Don’t say that,” I sigh with bent eyebrows that he tries to smooth out with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, bug, but ‘s tha brutal truth o’ bein’ a lawyer and that’s yer life now. It doesn’t always go how ya want it t’. I reckon, ‘s tha truth o’ life actually.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t like it,” I exhale, diving back into his arms for one last time, wishing I knew when the next time it would be that I get to do this again. There’s so little stopping me from getting on my tiptoes and kissing the sadness out of him.

“I should go, me flight ‘s soon,” Harry whispers a minute later, his nose brushing against my temple.

“Yeah, we don’t want the birthday boy to be late for his big case starting Monday,” I say with a fake smile, squeezing him one last time and then moving away to zip his coat up the rest of the way.

“Thanks fer the best birthday ‘ve had inna long time, Becks. It meant tha world t’ me, I hope y’know,” he coos from above me, but I avoid his eyes as I tuck his necklace back into his shirt. “‘ll call ya once I land, ‘kay? ‘ll be back soon, Becks,” he murmurs against my temple, lips falling to my cheek where they press a long last kiss there. His thumb hooks under my chin and lifts my avoidant eyes to his. “‘ll miss ya mo’ than y’know.”

“Bye, Harry. I’ll see you in nine days,” I hardly manage to make out, holding onto the semisweet smile hugging his lips. I feel one last squeeze from him where my hand stays in his, and then he walks away. He chances one last look over his shoulder, and I’m positive he couldn’t miss the first tear on my cheek, because I watch the first one fall from his eyes.

A huff falls from lips as I rub at my eyes, a yawn soon leaving me. Walking out of my office, my eyes linger down the hall at his dark door that still isn’t any easier to look at five days later. Even after his surprise FaceTime this morning in his most adorable purple robe to drink morning coffee together, watching FRIENDS last night on FaceTime, or all of the random texting conversations we’ve been having, I miss him even worse.

Swinging my empty water bottle around the handle on my finger, I soon find myself alone in the break room. The fridge closes with a soft clud as I set the Brita water pitcher on the counter, screwing off the top to my water bottle.

“Don’t spill it!” somebody says from behind me, making me jump and spill the water I’m pouring into my steel water bottle.

“Don’t do that, Harry!” I exclaim automatically, peeking back at the person who scared me. I groan and turn back to my water, but then something clicks in my head.

Harry.

He’s back!

“Harry!” I almost shout, turning back to him. I find a smile as bright as the sun staring back at me. “You’re back early!”

“Ya, I finished me case early and wanted t’ come say hi. I won it, Becks, we won it,” he replies happily.

With wide eyes, I feel my lips split into a smile. Throwing my arms around his neck, I wrap him in a hug.

“Harry, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you! I know how nervous you were for this case,” I hum into his warm neck. His musky cologne surrounds me as his arms do the same around my middle.

“Thanks so much, Becks. I sure missed havin’ ya there by me side givin’ me advice and correctin’ me notes,” he rasps with a small laugh, and I feel his warm words dance across my head.

“Well, it looks like you didn’t need it,” I tell him, pulling away to find his dimples caved into his cheeks. His pearly whites smile back at me. I squeeze his arm and smile back at him, filling with pride and happiness.

“Ya, coz you were still there, bug. I appreciated yer calls and texts, love, and ‘course all tha times watchin’ FRIENDS togetha. It did wondas t’ take me mind off tha case.”

I’m not sure what else to do besides smile at him, but then I feel the right words come to me. Or the closest to right. “I can’t say enough how proud I am of you, and how happy I am, too. But I’m not surprised, because you’re a pretty damn great lawyer.”

A blush rises to his cheeks and he looks down all abashed. “Thanks, that means loads comin’ from you.”

“What, why would it mean a lot coming from me? I haven’t even been practicing for a month, and meanwhile you have been for years,” I ask, searching for the answer in his eyes. But when he lets me see them again, I can’t tell what it is.

“Jus’ does, Becks . . I wanna make ya proud.”

“Well, you’ve already done that a few times over,” I laugh heartily. He nods and sticks his hands into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. A multicolored flannel and Beatles shirt dons his upper half. Checkered Vans claim his feet, and sunglasses are caught in his hair. It’s all the epitome of comfy airport clothes.

“What are you going to do with the rest of your days off? You still have tomorrow and Friday before you’re due back on Monday.”

“Um, I dunno. ‘ll prolly stay home and unpack. Do a bit o’cleanin’ and catch up on sleep. That bloody jet lag ‘s no joke,” he confesses, losing a hand in his air as he giggles.

“Yeah, you seem to have a hard time with that, I’m sorry. You should try some of that Sleepy Time tea before bed, it always helps me. Or reading. Or exercising,” I blurt out, feeling like the nonsensical words will never stop.

“Thanks, I’ll stop by tha shops and pick some up. Wasn’t that tha one I had on accident at yer place tha one time?”

“You mean the night you zonked out on my sofa at eight pm?” I chuckle and he nods with red cheeks.

“Ya, that one. I s’pose that stuff really works.”

“Mmmhmmm,” I reply. Again, the words are bubbling up into my throat. And then the silent promise we made to the other falls back into my thoughts, as well as the one I made what feels like so long ago now. Just ask him out when he gets back then, it’d be too annoying starting to date while he’s away, Skye had said.“I uh . . .”

“Ya, Becks?” Harry responds, and I look back up to find his patient eyes on me. A smile bends his lips and I feel it fill me with courage, egging me on.

And that’s what makes the words fall from my lips.

“I was wondering if you’re doing anything Friday night?”

He almost says something, but there’s a creak when the door opens. My face falls when I realize it, and a confused look paints Harry’s face. Rory prances over and pats Harry on the back, before scooping him into a hug.

Looking to the floor with a shy smile, I step away from the reunion. I grab a towel from the drawer and clean up my mess. I screw the top onto my water bottle before tossing the rag into the bin under the sink.

“Wow, man! I can’t believe ya did it. Ya put on a great defense from what I heard from Mick’s friend,” Rory exclaims before pouring into question after question.

I can’t hide the disappointment coating my features inside and out. I finally got the courage to ask him, and I was interrupted. And now, I don’t think I could find that courage again.

Grabbing my water bottle, I walk over to the fridge and steal a yogurt from a shelf. The door closes with a soft click as I go to walk around them.

“Becks, wait,” Harry says, making me stop in my tracks. Turning to find his eyes on me, I watch confusion screw up Rory’s face.

“Rore, there was sumthin’ I needed t’ ask Becky ‘bout. I’ll catch ya aftawards, ya?” Harry turns to him and says.

I feel my heart almost hiccup inside of my chest. And with it, I feel it start to gallop back into nervous territory.

“Yeah sure, man. I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Rory replies, patting him on the shoulder before the door closes behind him.

And then it’s just Harry and I, again.

“Hey, sorry ‘bout that. I haven’t seen anybody else yet, so he was surprised t’ see me,” Harry tells me. God, Harry, stop making my heart do all of these jumpy things, please. Holy shit, he basically said I’m the first person he came to see. Uh wow, that is uh-. “Becks?” Harry repeats. I blink and watch his features materialize in front of me again.

“Yeah, sorry,” I say, shaking my head.

“’s okay. What were ya sayin’ ‘bout Friday?” he continues, and I swear my heart just keeps jumping, making it even more harder to speak. But I have to do it. I have to try.

“Um, I was wondering . . . . If you wanted to try out that new restaurant, Rafael’s, on 3rd? L-Like a date?” I say, forcing the words out one after the other, or else I won’t get them out. “Because I remember you said before it opened that you’d like to try it and your friend owns it and-.”

“Yes, I’d love t’, Becks. I’d love t’ go onna date with you t’ Rafael’s,” Harry interrupts, his words coming out like molasses with a syrupy sweet smile. They fill in and soothe all of the worries fighting inside of me. And immediately squash the doubts.

With that, my heart calms down and I feel a happiness soar through my veins. One I haven’t felt in a long time. It climbs higher and higher when I take a leap and jump into his arms, hearing his breathy laugh I missed so fucking much.

“Goddamit, Harry, I missed you so much,” I confess into his chest, my eyes falling closed as I finally feel like I can relax, and four days early at that. A chuckle rumbles through his warm chest while his familiar scent could lull me to sleep. I missed that too, his peppery vanilla cologne, and how safe I feel in his arms that hold me against him.

I can’t believe all of this, what just happened and the fact that he’s here, and back with me. He’s with me.

“Fookin’ hell, I missed ya mo’, Becks,” he reveals, words falling into my hair seconds before he surprises me with a kiss to my cheek.

It only intensifies when I dare to look up and find those green eyes looking at me in a way I’ve never seen. Now, I finally get a feeling of what I’ve looked like this whole time. This whole time I’ve been looking at him with the beginnings of love in my eyes.

Finally, we’re here.

25 notes · View notes

korpuskat · 5 years

Text

Christmas with Michael, Thomas, and Danny 🔪💘

Merry Christmas @harlequince @knifeknifebaby !!

Michael [PG | WC: 826]

You fidget on the couch, already anxious. You really wanted to share something nice with him, but now you were worried if he’d care at all. Michael sits next to you, staring blankly at the flat little box, all wrapped up in shiny red paper and tied with green ribbon. He hadn’t reacted at all as you placed it on his lap, barely lifted his eyes to meet yours at your meek “Merry Christmas.”

Now he stares at the gift box and you wonder if he even remembers what Christmas is. You know so little about his life inside Smith’s Grove, had they ever tried to celebrate with him? Were you… bringing back unwanted memories? You bite at your lip, wonder if maybe you could defuse this before it happens.

“If you don’t…” You start, but pause as you watch Michael’s finger slip under the satiny ribbon. He pulls the bow out, slow and measured despite the lack of interest on his face. He picks through paper and reveals the plain, thin cardboard beneath it. You can’t suppress your smile, you know you got a good gift for him--

And Michael lifts the flimsy lid. You watch his eyebrows lift minutely, the only hint at what’s going on his mind and your grin becomes obnoxious. Inside, pillowed in white tissue paper, is an obscene amount of candy- mostly a variety of little hard caramels in shiny foil wraps, but in the center was a hefty chunk of saran-wrapped handmade chocolate bark.

Michael picks it up and peels back the plastic wrap to reveal the multicolored chocolate in all its glory. “It’s salted caramel,” You say and you’re much too giddy, too proud of your creation. “With pecans. I thought you’d like that. There’s more in the kitchen.”

He lifts the chocolate bark and so delicately bites off the corner of the chunk. It snaps satisfyingly and you’re filled with excitement- you’d tempered the chocolate well and as Michael lowered the chocolate a long string of the semi-soft caramel stretched between his mouth and his hand. Michael swipes off the caramel with one finger and if you weren’t already vibrating with innocent Christmas joy, you might’ve thought to blush- he sucks the sweet string off his finger and immediately goes to break off another piece of the bark.

“You like it?” You venture and are rewarded with Michael’s swift nod. “Good.” You smile- and with Michael fully distracted with his gift, you lean forward, nearly have to get up on your knees just to reach him, and press a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “Merry Christmas, Michael.”

He does not kiss you back, but he also does not reject you as you press against warm his side and pick up the remote. “So,” You start and flick over to the TV guide, “I’m going to guess you haven’t seen many Christmas specials.” Another snap of the chocolate, you hadn’t expected a real response anyway.

“Did you ever read How the Grinch Stole Christmas?” Michael stills for a moment, you watch his eyes shoot up to the screen and read the description on the guide. You really hope you weren’t pushing your luck, but as Michael went back to nibbling appreciatively, you figured you were in the clear.

You select it and settle in closer to Michael’s side and let him adjust so his arm rests behind you.

In the morning, one lazy stretch of your arm confirms the sheets on Michael’s side of the bed are cool and unoccupied; he must not have slept very well. Too bad; you’d hoped for warm morning touches, of any variety. You sweep your hand over his side and-

You blink the sleep from your eyes and sit up. Your room is empty, the door to your bedroom left ajar. On Michael’s side of the bed, amongst the ruffled sheets, is a soft, gray blanket still folded up, a fake white ribbon held on with velcro holds the tag in place. The ribbon is slightly rumpled, a peculiar pink tinge dotted over where the lines criss-crossed, as though it had been carried by the ribbon. You can’t help but smile and touch the fabric, you sigh and stroke at the plush fibers.

You carry the folded-up blanket into the kitchen- and find Michael standing in front of the container that had once been full of chocolate bark. From how far he has to dip his fingers into get another piece, he’s made quite a dent already. You might just have to make more.

You snip off the tag and leave the fake velcro ribbons on the counter. Michael does not turn towards you to watch as you drape the blanket over your shoulders. When you lay a hand on his shoulder and rise as high as you can on your toes, he does duck his head just enough to let you press another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Michael.”

Thomas [PG | WC: 665]

“Do you like it?” You ask, eyes flitting between Thomas’s half-concealed face and the gift he held in his hands. The box was large enough to be uncomfortable to set on your lap, but in his rough hands it looks dainty. Dark eyes scan the red lettering and though you worry he can’t read everything the box advertises, he surely recognizes the large image front and center. “It’s a sewing machine,” You say and look at the little arrows on the box emphasizing the powerful motor, “for leatherwork.”

His eyebrows raise slowly, his face lifting to stare at you. He nods, first contained and then energetically, his dark curls bouncing in his excitement. You grin- and barely manage to set down your cocoa before Thomas is pulling you into a bear hug, pushing the sewing machine off his lap and onto the couch so he can hold you closer. You laugh and it’s the best sound Thomas has ever heard; his fingers dive into your hair, strong forearm wrapping around your waist to keep next to him. You curl your arms around his broad shoulders and press your cheek to his jaw. “You’re welcome, Tommy.”

He lets you go after a minute, those huge hands coming to settle at your hips. You don’t go far, still perched on his lap. “So, where’s my gift, handsome?” A pink tinge sneaks above the edge of his mask and Thomas looks askance. You think it’s just from the pet name- but then he picks at your shirt hem and won’t meet your eyes.

You stroke at his hair, draw the dark strands away from his face. One gnarled scar peeks up above the edge of the leather, slithers across his skin up to the edge of his ear. You touch it softly- and Thomas shivers, his eyes falling closed. “Tommy?”

He finally looks at you again and you want to fall into his big, dark eyes that shine so beautifully, you want to smother his skin in kisses until the fear and vulnerability are washed from his face forever. He doesn’t need to speak for you to be able to read his deeply expressive face. He’s worried- ashamed. “It’s okay if you didn’t get me anything.” You say and stroke over that scar again.

One huge hand covers yours, holds your palm to his masked cheek as he shakes his head. With the other he reaches into his pants pocket. If the sewing machine’s box was dainty in his hands, this tiny thing was hardly more than a trinket. It’s just a little cardboard thing, unwrapped and plain. You catch Thomas’s eyes before taking the box into your hands, your heart already racing. A box this small, there’s only a handful of things that could fit inside.

Thomas’s eyes bore into you, his breath coming in short, anxious puffs, his hands- now back at your hips- stroke at your sides, though you don’t know if it’s supposed to be soothing you or him. You lift the tiny lid- and gasp. Tommy’s eyebrows jump as you breathe out, “Oh my god,”

In the box, among white tissue paper, is a ring. A simple little thing; one faux-antiqued band with three round-cut stones set side by side, onyx set in the center, flanked on either side by moonstone. You pick up the tiny thing and stare at it, turning it in the light and watching how the reflection slides across the gems’ well polished faces.

“Like it?” Thomas echoes you, his voice is low and rough, breathy in his worry.

You nod, can’t help the grin that splits your cheeks. You slide the ring on and find it just a touch loose. You don’t ask where he found it. “I love it, Tommy.” You watch as teeth appear under the mask, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. You lunge forward, wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his hair just over his ear. “Thank you.”

Danny [Mature | WC: 714] [CW: knife, violence]

“I wasn’t sure what to get you.” You preface the gift, grimacing at the shiny paper. You hand him the strange-looking object-- a wide square base with a smaller square on top. He was so damn hard to shop for, his gift was the one you had dreaded picking out all month. You figured if nothing else-

One dark eyebrow arches up. “Am I really that difficult?” He turns the gift in his hands and listens as something inside it shifts.

“Yes.” You groan and it only makes Danny’s hazel eyes shine brighter.

His fingernails cut through the paper neatly, pulling apart your wrapping and revealing the contents. It was not one gift, but rather five you had sneakily taped together to at least hope to make him guess. The bottom is made up of four boxes of film rolls, fresh and ready for his photography.

One corner of Danny’s lips lifts as he looks at the box- it’s the brand he uses, you know it is. He isn’t the only one who can snoop. Not that it was really snooping; he’d left the empty boxes on his desk. “Thanks, doll.”

Not very fun, but least he appreciated it, you know he’ll use them. “Keep going.”

The smaller box on top is black and nondescript. The perfect size for a ring. He looks up to you, a playful, silent question on his tongue. He thumbs open the lid- and you nearly laugh at the way his face twists. His eyebrows raise comically high as he peers down at the gift.

“I thought I might need a map. In case I forgot.” You grin and Danny actually laughs. The barbell is tiny in his fingers and he brings it up close to his eyes to stare at the tiny writing. “There’s actually a whole twelve pack, but I thought you’d enjoy that one most.”

“Oh? What was your second choice?”

“I swallow.”

Danny snorts. “I’m glad we have the same idea about Christmas gifts.” He offers you a simple rectangular box with black, glossy paper and a red ribbon tied in a bow, then sticks his tongue out and begins loosening the simple black stud he had in.

Same idea? You frown at the box; it’s a little short to be a dildo and Danny was more into restraints and canes than something to fuck you with when he could do it himself. With his mouth occupied, his knowing smile has migrated to his eyes, a dark glitter about them as you work off the crimson ribbon. Could be a bullet vibe- asshole would probably love to stick that in you while you’re working-

You lift the lid. You frown, tip your head. “You switch up some presents, Danny?”

He’s just finished tightening the new stud and you watch as he moves his tongue about, feeling the new texture. “Of course not.”

In black tissue paper, the spring-assisted knife is already extended, the anodized blade having bit through the thin layers of paper. You pick it up; the grip is a textured matte black, little holes punched out so you can see the metal of the tang. It’s sharp and the urge to press your thumb to the edge just to see if it would cut is strong. “How’s this the same idea?”

Oof- your head cracks against the floor and the world spins; weight on your chest knocks the air from your lungs and you strain to inhale, to writhe under the assault- and something slams your hand to the hardwood. You choke out some startled noise and drop the knife.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You blink and realize Danny is perched on your chest, his knee digging into your left arm- in his hands he turns the knife. It flashes dangerously, but not nearly as dangerous as the heated, predatory look in Danny’s hazel eyes, as the slowly growing grin with too much teeth. “We both got something we wanted.”

And Danny’s tongue slips out, his new stud clicking against his teeth as your gift stares you down. It and the blade were your only clues to what, exactly, Danny had in mind. He laughs, cool and amused at the heat spreading over your cheeks. On his tongue, a half-flat stud reads cum here.

177 notes · View notes

tinytinyshorty · 5 years

Text

I stood watching the tv like a brain dead zombie as I was drying up the dishes. The slightly damp cloth worked its way around the already dry pan a numerous amount of times before I even realised I was doing it.

I was glued to the tv because of a very urgent news report had taken over every channel on the tv. They were saying tall alien beings had emerged from all parts of the world. They said to stay indoors and out of sight, keep lights off and keep quiet.

No one knew yet where they had come from or what they wanted but deep down I knew that this wasn't good. This wasn't some kind of hoax, something was about to happen. Something big... something giant.

"Lucy, your father and I are going to bed. It's late, I suggest you do too. It is a school night after all." Mum said strolling down the stairs.

"Mum I don't think school will be open tomorrow. Haven't you seen the news?" I asked, pointing a shaking finger at the television screen.

Mum tutted and rolled her eyes. "Do you believe everything they show on tv Lucy? Go on, get to bed!"

"But mum!" I insisted.

"Bed!" Mum hissed.

I reluctantly turned off the tv and collected my things before trudging up stairs to my room.

I didn't switch my light on, I guided my way by touch. Maybe what the news report said was still in the back of my head.

I stood at the foot of my window and peeked through the curtains. The night was dark as coal, I could just make out the shape of the barn and dad's pick up truck in the field.

I don't know what I was looking for until something caught my eye. It was like a little yellow spark behind the truck. Then a second one appeared.

"What the..." I mumbled under my breath.

I heard a door slam in the house followed by dad storming across the landing. I dashed to my door and caught dad by the back of his night shirt.

"There's something outside. I think someone's trying to steal my truck. It will be a group of teens thinking they're smart." He growled, pulling my hand off his shirt.

"Dad! You can't go out!" I cried. "What about the news!"

Dad chose to ignore me and carried on thumping down the stairs. I followed him, constantly stating facts about what the news said in hope that he might listen to at least one of them. He unlocked the front door and ran outside. He began frantically scanning the front yard.

Slight noises echoed around the yard, metal clanging and foot steps crunching on the pebbled drive. I stood a little behind dad, a few metres away at a guess.

"Come out you little bastards!" Dad shouted.

There's was peace before all hell broke loose. First a shape came from behind the truck, then it kept going! The dark shape grew and grew as it uncurled and revealed itself. My jaw dropped as it unfolded itself and stood to it's full height.

"Holy sh-" Dad couldn't finish his profanity as he turned on his heals and fled to the house.

I was frozen in fear. I still couldn't move, not even when dad ran past me. Not even when I saw the large figures hand reaching towards me. Not even a muscle. All I could do was stare, helpless.

The creature snatched me up off the ground and my world went black as I was swarmed by flesh. It was warm and soft. I wasn't there long as I was quickly deposited into some place dark, I was surrounded by fabric.

I tried to stand up but kept loosing my balance and falling over.

"Let me go!" I yelled but I didn't receive an answer. I wasn't expecting one. It's not likely that something that has kidnapped you is going to let you go as soon as you ask.

I knew that news report wasn't fake! This was my parents fault! If they had just listened to me then none of this would have happened!

It was some time before I was brought back into light. I felt something pick me up by the back of my shirt and place me down on a cold surface.

I dared myself to open my eyes. My jaw slacked, I was in a castle. Candles provided some light which were positioned around the room at different points. It looked like one of those medieval castles you saw in history books. Only on a much much much larger scale! I felt so small.

I was sat on a large stone table, there was no where for me to run. I could jump off but I'm sure from this great height that it would kill me.

The creature that took me suddenly walked into the room. He was tall, broad chested and ugly looking. He looked like a giant, in fact I was certain he was a giant! I didn't want to believe it, all my instincts were screaming at me that giants didn't exist!

He walked over to me and gasped.

"Wait a second?" He said scratching his stubbled chin. "You're not the same human as before!"

I began to shake uncontrollably. I wanted to be anywhere but here!

The giant suddenly picked me up and held me close to his face. He stared at me hard as he seemed to be examining me.

"Nope definitely not." He grunted as he carefully placed me back down on the table top.

"Please let me go." I pleaded, my voice trembling.

"Ha! As if I would just like that." The giant laughed. "I can't unfortunately. It's a bit complicated."

The giant pulled out a chair from under the table and threw himself in it. He placed his grimy feet on the table top. The giant took out a small dull knife and started picking at his teeth with the tip of the blade. I gulped as I looked at the sharp teeth.

"What are you going to do with me?" I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

The giant shrugged. "Dunno yet. I was meant to get that other human. Teach him a lesson or two."

He must be talking about dad!

"What human?" I asked.

"The one I was meant to get!" The giant snapped, irritated. I still didn't know if he meant my father or not. He sort of dodged the question.

The room went quiet, I didn't dare speak after being snapped at. The last thing I wanted was to anger the giant.

The giant carried on picking at his teeth then after a while he slowly glanced over at me, giving me an odd look. Almost like he forgot I was here all together!

"Gotta name then?" He asked bluntly.

"Lucy." I answered quickly.

The giant smiled and nodded. "How's it going Lucy?"

"Not very well, all things considered."

The giant laughed triumphantly, the laugher echoed off the stoney walls and ring like clumsy church bells in my head.

"No, I guess not!" He boomed.

"Do you have a name?" I asked boldly after his fit of laughter passed.

"It's sir to you." He grunted.

I nodded obediently. "Yes sir!"

The giant smiled and gave a light hearted chuckle. He then started picking the dirt from under his nails with the knife. His face was contorted with thought and his eyes seemed to be slightly glossed over.

Sir suddenly took his feet off the table and sighed. He crossed his arms and laid them on the table with his chin resting on top. I took a step or two backwards as his stare burrowed too deeply for comfort.

"What to do with you..." He mumbled and I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear that or not. He couldn't exactly whisper or be quiet in any way it seemed.

He moved his hand and outstretched a finger to poke me in my middle, I tumbled back slightly as I was caught off guard. He chuckled when he saw my reaction. The laughter died but the warm smile remained.

He had flaming red hair that hung in messy curls down to his shoulders. He had a flat nose and eyes that shone even in the dim light. They were bright yellow, they must have been what I saw out of my bedroom window!

"Are you scared of me Lucy?" He asked curiously.

"I don't know." I mumbled.

I couldn't tell sir that I was terrified! I don't know how he would react, and he would know if I said I wasn't. I was shaking with fear, I couldn't hide it, he would know I was lying.

"You could learn to tolerate me though, hypothetically speaking?" Sir pressed.

"I think so." I replied honestly.

"Then that settles it!" Sir said, suddenly getting up from his chair.

"Settles what?"

"You'll stay here with me. Keep me company." He told me.

Dread filled my body. Stay here?! With a giant!? No way! Lord knows what a being of his size could do!

I shook my head and my lip started quivering. "Please... just let me go. I don't want to stay here... with you."

Sirs lips curled into a perfectly sinister smile. He leant closer to the table and I became very aware of my small size in his looming shadow. "You don't get much of a choice little girly."

I tried to swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Just take me back, I won't tell anyone-"

"I'm pretty sure that everyone already knows we have arrived. We made sure we made a grand entrance." He laughed. "I don't think you're understanding what I'm offering here. You're lucky Lucy."

"Why!?" I spat. "What element about this whole situation is lucky!?"

Sir snatched me up in his fist. His fingers curled around my body like I was surrounded by blood thirsty snakes.

"Them other giants, they want to concur. They don't care how many humans they have to go through to get this planet. The date of the apocalypse has arrived." He told me with a stern look spread across his face. "However, I can keep you safe and hidden away. Protected from those who want to harm you. All you have to do is comply and behave yourself."

"So I'll be a pet." I sneered.

"Pet, companion. Whichever. Means the same thing to me." He shrugged.

"And what if I say no?" I dared.

The giant raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "You really want to know the answer?"

I thought for a second then sighed. "No." I said simply.

He was going to kill me if I didn't stay here, I don't know if he would do it humanely or if he would draw it out and take enjoyment out of my suffering. Did I even have a choice? I valued my own life, and maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Not once I got to know him better...

But I wouldn't cosy up to him, no way. He was keeping me prisoner here. He had a cold heart even if he has brainwashed himself into thinking what he is doing is just.

"Where am I going to stay?" I asked, hugging my arms tightly around myself.

The giant thought for a second then left the room. He came back a moment later with some scraps of cloth and a pillow. Sir placed the pillow down on the table and laid the cloth pieces across it.

"There." He beamed proudly. "Are you hungry?"

I shook my head.

"Well then, you'd best be off to bed then. We've got a big day of getting to know each other tomorrow and I want you in your best state of mind."

Sir picked me up by hooking his index finger around my middle and laying me down in the centre of the pillow.

He smiled softly at me then went around the room blowing out the candles one by one. I settled myself down and tried to keep my eyes closed. The sooner sir thinks I'm asleep the sooner he would surely leave.

Coldness plagued my body, I began to shiver as it nipped at my skin. I heard the giant mumble something then he briskly left the room.

I peered out of a half open eye, curiosity getting the better of me. The giant strode back into the room with a thick woollen blanket in his hand. I quickly closed my eyes again.

He must have thought I was asleep as he didn't try to speak to me. He gently placed the woollen blanket over my body, he pulled it up to my shoulder to keep me warmer. He sighed and whispered;

"I'll protect you little one. I promise."

#giant/tiny #giants #smol bean #g/t #gianttiny fluff #gt/tiny #gt community

24 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 5 years

Note

THEY HAVE A HOTEL ROOM NOW AAAAAAAAAAAHH

IT WILL COME BACK ; A.M.

summary: arthur + miss turner share a bath. he hates himself. pairing: arthur morgan x reader, turner as a surname. a/n: here’s some dumb little warm up stuff, a part of my simpler said aloud series! anyways, i dunno what the fuck is happening with the formatting here and i am waaaaaay too tired to figure it out, oops.

He doesn’t deserve this.

Self deprecation bore into the homes within his heart long ago, mutilating the walls in a sinister sort of way -- with sharp teeth and hooked claws, the little beast settled deep inside his soul.

Arthur Morgan has felt hollow for so long, he forgot what it was like to have a fire stoked in that very same heart with care -- the warm slow-burn of something like love drives away the beast, but in the lonesome dark, it slithers back in with a vengeance.

Mary Linton had fed that beast with coaxing hands, let it in, let it sleep in his bed, and let it make a nest. She left him in the dust with a discarded ring and a broken heart and a haphazard distrust of the more permanent parts of romance; more than anything, Mary left him with this rotting feeling that eats him whole whenever he catches his reflection in a passing mirror.

But, when you smile, the clouds part.

Maybe -- just maybe -- he ain’t so bad.

If a woman like you, honest and kind and beautiful and smart, could spare him a shred of wayward affection... well, he isn’t too sure what to make of it.

“This is nice.”

You sound so far away, settled outside the tub on your knees. Arthur wishes, for the briefest of moments, that you were in the bath with him.

You lean over the lip of the basin, hand dipping into the hot water of his bath, fingers moving to brush along the curve of his bicep and scatter some suds there. Your hair is curling around your head like a halo from the steam of the tub, face glowing -- you’re a picture of radiance in the dim light of the hotel room. Swathed in your nightgown, you turn to look out the french doors overlooking Saint Denis.

The moon sits high and red in the sky.

Arthur couldn’t give a damn about the world outside this room.

You’re his moon, his stars, his air and his life, and as he sits there in that tub, stripped down to nothing, he realizes how he must have done something good in this life to deserve you. That little beast in his heart tells him this isn’t permanent, tells him this isn’t anything more than summer sweetness.

But, you look back at him with a palpable amount of affection that his mouth tastes like warm honey.

“It is.”

You lean then, resting your cheek on your wrist and watching him as you let your fingers skim the surface of the water.

Arthur sinks lower into the water at your anchored gaze.

That coaxes a shy smile out of you.

“What?”

He looks away. “Nothin’.”

“Y’ gettin’ shy now? I already saw y’ get in, Arthur.”

He laughs -- a little jump of his lungs that brings a smile to his face. It’s a quirk of his lips, tongue darting out to wet the amusement on his palate.

“Guess you’re right.”

You watch him for a moment longer, breath held in your lungs as you try to pin down the exact feeling that makes the air so thick. It’s written on his face, settled into the scars there, but you can’t read it.

He’s always had a good poker face.

Slowly, you move a hand across his jaw, sweeping your thumb across the stubble of his cheek.

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

It’s said so softly, so sweetly. Like a prayer to higher power. His name has never sounded better, mumbled between passes of your thumb. Calloused hands can do nothing but reach for your smaller one, to anchor, to hold, to have.

He kisses your palm. He clears his throat.

“I don’t deserve y’.”

You frown.

“I am a sad, lonely, old man,” he continues, “M’ one ugly sonuva bitch that’s done some ugly things --”

“Arthur,” you coo, “That ain’t true --”

“It is,” he breathes, “I’ve killed people, I’ve robbed an’ I’ve killed an’ I’ve lied an’ cheated an’... I ain’t a good man. You deserve a good man.”

“You are a good man,” you rebuttal, moving to lift your head and eye him with a pained sense of finality, “You are and I don’t give a damn about you bein’ a wanted man -- you had to survive.”

“That don’t make it right. You oughta have a man who ain’t got a bounty. Who can make y’ a home and a life and --”

“Arthur.”

He heaves a sigh.

You touch his arm. “Arthur, I ain’t Mary.”

You’re not. You don’t want him to change. You don’t want him to be something he ain’t. You left the life of high society. You chose him and the gang. You’re loyal. You care about him. You’re not Mary Linton.

Arthur swallows.

“... I know, I’m... I’m sorry, I just --”

His words die in his throat when you stand, unceremoniously yanking your chemise over your head and swinging your legs over the edge of the tub. You climb in. The bath rocks and the water rises and you could care less, really.

He’s seen you naked before -- each time, though, it seems to be revered with the same sense of a religious experience. You can’t help but feel a bit worshiped; especially the way his words get stuck in his throat and he can’t help but stare.

You slip beneath the water and settled between his legs, leaning to press your back to his chest.

Arthur makes a sound -- tied between surprise and amusement. Then, his hands fall along your waist under the warm water. He looms over you in the tub, his broad frame taking up a wide amount of space. He shrinks himself, again, pulling his shoulders in as you stretch your legs and let them rest against his.

Instantly, he winds down.

Like a puzzle piece, the fit is magnetic. He’s tentative at first, careful not to overwhelm you, but his habit of exploring your shape creeps to the surface.

He kneads the flesh of your hip.

You’re thankful he can’t see the sting of tears in your eyes. You wish, you really do, that he’d let himself be loved. It hurts to see him spin in circles, racked with panic over being good enough when he’s really more than you could ever ask for.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Arthur Morgan,” you say with such finality, “Not until I’m dead in th’ ground. Y’ gonna have t’ drag me outta this tub if y’ want me gone.”

He hums. It reverberates through your chest.

“I know that,” he finally says, ducking to dot a kiss to the curve of your shoulder, “I know.”

“You deserve to be happy, to be loved,” you mumble, “Will y’ trust me on that?”

A nod. You let your eyes slip shut.

“Good.”

Another kiss.

The water is warm. The world is quiet. Arthur’s hands are drawing lazy little patterns in your skin.

You wish you could stay like this forever.

#simpler said aloud #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 headcanons #Anonymous #WHAT THE FUCK IS THE FORMATTING DOING

326 notes · View notes

razorblade180 · 5 years

Text

Lasting Embers pt12: Family

Jaune:*walking down the stairs* Well look who’s having a midnight snack.

*Yang and Yujin eating french toast*

Yang:*mouth full* Hi hun...

Yujin:*waving enthusiastically*

Jaune:I’m guessing the market run was a success?

Yujin:Not only that, mom told me some very interesting stories. You never told me you once used the sword of destruction to fight your old partner!

Jaune:*looks at Yang* You started with that story...?

Yang:It’s a depressing but hardcore story; I’m surprised you didn’t tell her yourself. You had a death match with the undead invincible warrior.

Jaune:First, she wasn’t undead. She was just all grimm like and horrifying. Second, somehow I knew that would love telling that story. So I saved it for you to tell.

Yujin:I always knew you were a pretty cool dad but hearing that story just makes you even cooler! *eyes as wide as her plate*

Yang:*taking this moment to sneak over to Ruby* Hey there lil sis; feeling rested?

Ruby:*laying on the couch* Yeah, it feels nice to sleep on good furniture after a decade.

Yang:Is that the only place you sle-ow!

Ruby:*flicking her forehead* I know what you’re implying and I still think it’s very weird that you would be okay with something like that. Like extremely weird.

Yang:*rubbing her forehead* Don’t you think I know that? It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to this family if we’re being truthful.

Ruby:Yang, why is my love life so important to you. I know things have been......difficult for me. However, I don’t think I’m desperate enough to sleep with my sister’s husband. That sounds like something out of Blake’s novels.

Yang:I know it’s just....if I’m being honest with myself I feel like I robbed you. You and Jaune have always had this special connection no one can match and frankly it always made me a little jealous.

Ruby:......

Yang:Also I can’t help but feel that if you had married him then you would’ve been spared this heart-ow! Stop thumping me.

Ruby:No matter how you slice it, Oscar’s death would’ve tore me up. Him being my husband was definitely fuel for that agony but I want to believe I would’ve mourned just as hard even if he wasn’t. Your intentions are weird but pure; I’ll be fine though.

Yang:*kisses her forehead* If my leader says she’s fine then I guess she’s fine. Do me a favor though and don’t lock your heart away. We both know Weiss is single.

Ruby:I’d be a little less concerned about my skills to meet someone and more concerned about your moves in bed. You’re ten years rusty and I know from that kiss you had with Jaune earlier that he’s been waiting for this night.

Yang:.....*red* That hadn’t crossed my mind. Shoot, that might have to wait. It would be weird it Yu-

Ruby:*standing up* Yujin let’s go get your sword before something happens to it. A grimm or person might take it.

Yujin:Crap, you’re right. All that work into making Tempered Steel and I forgot my poor baby in a fit of rage! *rushes out the door*

Ruby:I’ll keep her safe and you two....you know. *closes door*

Jaune:*looks at Yang*

Yang:Sooooo there’s still some french toast le-*caught off gaurd by a kiss before getting picked up*

Jaune:Not really what I want to eat right now.

Yang:J..just so you know, it’s been awhile for me. I’m probably out of practice. *embarrassed*

Jaune:You say that like I’m not. It’s been a long ten years. I don’t want to waste a another moment.

Yang:*crimson* Then by all means.... let’s go to bed. I am a little tired from today though.

Jaune:That’s fine *whispers* I’ll do all the work.

Yang:*laughs anxiously* So much for sleeping.

[Forest Clearing]

Yujin:......Was this a distraction?

Ruby:Yeah....

Yujin: I see. *closes eyes* Mom and dad are-

Ruby:Yeah.......

Yujin:*grabs her sword* Sigh, I shouldn’t have asked.

[the next morning]

Jaune:*peacfully sleeping in bed* Zzzz

Yang:*admiring him as she lays beside him* (who would’ve thought I’d miss the sound of him snoring? Sleeping without a care in the world.) *kisses his forehead*

Jaune:*smiles warmly in his sleep*

Yang:*smiles* I love you....

*knock knock knock*

Yang:Don’t tell me they were out all night? I feel kinda bad now. *puts on PJ’s and heads down stairs*

*Yujin and Ruby sleeping with headphones on*

Yang:Oh they’re inside. Wait, who’s knocking at five in the morning? *looks through the peep whole*

*A man stands there wearing a hooded cloak. Combat boots and leather gloves can be seen; a few strands of reddish hair visible*

Yang:Wait a sec, *opens the door* Adam?

Adam:*takes off the hood. Hair noticeably longer and laid down. A slight bang covers his scar. His horns have actually grown a few inches longer* Yang? You’re back?

Yang:You know, Jaune did mention you were gonna be showing up; I just can’t believe you’re actually here. *glaring slightly* not sure how I feel about it all things considered.

Adam:That’s fair; if anyone would’ve bothered to tell me you’d be back then I wouldn’t be here. Wait, is Blake...?

Yang:She’s alive and should be back in menagerie by now; or at least close to it.

Adam:Hmmm I guess I should’ve stayed back a day or two like Jacquelyn wanted. Oh well, no point in thinking about it now. *rubs the slight stubble on his chin*

Yang:*noticing a ring*..........How?

Adam:How what?

Yang:*shaking her head* Nothing! You uhh... look healthy. That hairstyle sucks though; you look a little emo.

Adam:Rude as ever I see. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m “dead” to the majority world. Walking around with a very iconic scar would raise some flags.

Yang:Still.....*movig his bang* you’re kinda fortunate you don’t use that eye to-

*yang staring at two blue eyes instead of one*

Yang:S...see? How on remnant do you have- *gears turning* how much luck do you have to have to get the chance to marry the one person who can open the vault to the relic of creation.

Adam:It was her idea; not mine. She insisted on doing it though.

Yang:You kept the scar though?

Adam:Fixing things is fine but, you shouldn’t forget that they got broken in the first place. This scar in a way started it all; only fitting it stays.

Yang:....Seeing you calm is jarring and uncomfortable. What happened to all that spite?

Adam:It lingers; there’s just not as much room for it as there used to be. Speaking of the relic of creation... *points to her arm* If it can make an eye then a limb should be easy.

Yang:*looking at it* It’s not like a need to get rid of this. Although, it would be nice to hug Yujin with two regular arms for change. I’ll think about it.

Adam:Speaking of the wild child, is she-

*Yang aggressively pushed to the side unexpectedly*

Yujin:*jumps through the door frame, arms stretched out excitedly* Sensei Adam!!!!

Adam:*side steps; Yujin face planting on the ground*

Yujin:*muffled* Why would you do that?

Adam:Last time I was over you lunged at with a sword trying to challenge me.

Yujin:*standing up pouting* I just wanted a hug.... *red*

Yang:*dying inside* (of all people)

Adam:*rubbing her head* You’ve grown like a weed. It has been almost a year since my last check in though.

Yujin:*ginning* Did you bring me a present!? You know my birthday was just yesterday right!?

Adam:I’m constantly traveling lightly and can’t be seen by regular people. Getting you a present would be difficult.

Yujin:Oh...*puts her head down* Huh? *sees a pendant shaped like the sun dangling in her peripheral*

Adam:*holding it* So I had this made secretly. It’s made out of a sun stone; Happy Birthday.

Yang:*eyes widen* (Is this even the same guy?)

Yujin:*Putting it on immediately* This is awesome! I can’t believe you did this. *hugs him*

Adam:*looking at Yang while trying to free his arms* You okay over there?

Yang:I....I’m coping. You being good with kid’s let alone my daughter is a reality I have to get used to.

Adam:If it makes you feel better, I don’t always have this type of luck when it comes to my kid. With all this is espionage I only really see them one or two months out of the yea-

Yang:YOU HAVE A KID!!!!!?

Yujin:I know right? *letting go* Honestly I’d rather have you tell me about her as a gift because he’s told me nothing about her!

Adam:Nope.

Yujin:Worth a shot *mumbles* a kiss on the cheek would’ve been a nice gift...

Adam:What did you say?

Yujin:*Blushing* Nothing!

Yang:Wait, are you referring to that one runt we found in that... *looks at Yujin* ...... *covers her ears* that slave and torture sight? Where you ended up a while back?

Adam:No I have a biological kid. I do count both of them as mine though. *trying not to smile*

Yang:Can I know about her?

Yujin*struggling and trying to lead lips* Aw come on! Why don’t I get to know? *ears finally uncovered*

Adam:Sorry kiddo, not that I don’t trust you to keep a secret but that sort of thing is best left for an actual encounter. I’m sure one day you get meet my desert rose.

Yujin:Desert rose? What does that mean?

Adam:You’ll figure it out one day; don’t think about too much.

Yujin:Fine.....Oh! Can I get one more present from you!?

Adam:I’m not teaching you a proper moonslice.

Yang:*shudders*

Yujin:Not that, but I still want to learn. I’m curious on who’s stronger these days, you or mom.

*both look at each other*

Yang:I’m done of you are; I miss punching you a bit. Those were simpler times.

Adam:You’re in PJ’s Yang.

Yang:Consider it a handicap. I’ve done a lot in ten years; I might be too much to handle.

Adam:*throws cloak off* Those are some bold words. I think you might’ve forgotten what this swordsman can do. *smirking*

*both looking at each other smugly. Tension in the air.*

Yujin:*hitting record on her scroll* Who would’ve thought being 15 was so great?

[inside]

Jaune:*hearing metal clashing outside* That didn’t take long. Pass the milk please.

Ruby:*making cereal* This will never change and the worst part is....

Jaune:It always ends in a draw.... *raises spoon* To nostalgia!

Ruby:*raises spoon* And the two of them at least not going for blood!

“Cheers!” *clink*

#rwby #rwby lasting embers #yujin xiao long #yang xiao long #jaune arc #ruby rose #adam taurus #rwby dragonslayer

116 notes · View notes

brianc521 · 6 years

Text

Missing Out

You were just tucking Melody in when you heard the front door open and then shut softly. She looked up at you with her big brown eyes.

“Daddy?” She asked with a big smile, her three year old charm melting your heart.

“Shawn?” You asked, hoping he’d hear you from downstairs.

“Yeah?” He called, starting to climb the stairs.

“Daddy!” Melody clapped, pushing her covers away and rushing out of her room to meet him in the hall.

“Melody Grace,” You scold, having just tucked her in for the third time tonight.

“Hey Baby!” Shawn coos, picking up the little girl that was running at him. He rests her on his hip, walking into her dimly lit room, her pink Princess light the only thing illuminating the room.

You smile up at him, his dark grey hat hiding his fluffy curls, eyes tired, face soft but pale.

“Bedtime?” He asks, small pout on his lips.

“Yeah, has been for the past half hour.” You sigh, leaning against her Princess bed.

He nods, looking at the little girl in his arms, kissing her cheek, making her giggle and curl into him. “Come on Princess, time for bed.” He says walking her back to her bed.

He lays her down, pulling her blanket over her body, tucking her in tight with a kiss to her forehead.

“Nigh nigh Daddy,” She whispers to him, blinking heavy.

“Night night Baby,” He whispers back, brushing her curls out of her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too Daddy,” She smiles at him.

“Sweet dreams Princess,” He says pulling your hand up with him, blowing her a kiss and watching her catch it before closing the door to her room.

You sigh, leaning against the wall while he listens to hear if she gets up again. When he doesn’t hear anything he looks to you with a proud smile.

“I don’t understand how you do that,” You groan, walking to your bedroom with him hot on your heels.

“Magic touch Baby,” He grins, wrapping his arms around you, planting kisses to your neck, pulling the both of you to the bed.

You giggle as his light stubble tickles your skin. He smiles, loving your laugh, but also reveling in how he hasn’t heard it lately.

“How was work?” You ask, turning in his arms to see his face.

His happy smile slowly drops, and his eyes lower from your stare. He clears his throat, shrugging.

“Hey,” You whisper, tapping on his nose to get him to look at you. “Talk to me about it.”

“I struggled a lot today,” He sighs. “Tell me about your day first,” He pulls you closer.

“Well,” You start, making a mental note to come back to his day, knowing he just wanted some time to get his mind off it for a bit. “We had breakfast with your Mom,” You smile.

“Mum was in town?” He asks with furrowed brows.

“Yeah she had a showing of a house at 11 so she met us for breakfast at that little cafe downtown.” You nod, softly tracing his pout with your fingertip. “And then we went to the park.” You start recalling your day. “And came home for lunch and a small nap before our first dance lesson.”

“That was today?” He says, slight shrill in his voice.

“Yeah, wrote it on the calendar.” You mumble.

He closes his eyes, nodding. “And then what did you guys do?”

“Well had Spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and we took a bath and had a bedtime story and then you came home and used your magic Daddy skills to get her to go to sleep.”

He sadly smiles at your last bit, lips pursing. “Sounds eventful.” He says hoarsely.

“Yeah it was a busy day, she's like her Dad.” You smile, running your fingers threw his curls, taking his cap off and throwing it on the chair in the corner of the room. “She doesn’t ever want to stop. It’s ‘go, go, go’ all the time. Sometimes I need a break.” You laugh.

“You deserve to relax baby, you do so much.” He says looking around, eyes landing on the clock over your shoulder. “I’ll draw you a bath, take some you time.” He says, rolling away from you before you can object.

You can hear him, getting the tub filled, rifling through the cabinets, muttering a few things to himself before reappearing.

“It’s ready for you,” He offers a hand, which you gladly take. He helps you undress, planting soft kisses to your silky smooth skin. Once you’re settled he kneels beside the tub, offering you a ponytail so you could throw your hair in a tub. “Wine?” He asks.

While tying your hair up you smile. “I think we’re out,” You look at him with a sad smile. “But we have grape juice,” You giggle.

He laughs, big breath coming out of his nose as he shakes his head. “When did we become such parents?” He teases.

“When you knocked me up three years ago?” You swipe some bubbles onto his nose, making him scrunch his face up.

“Grape juice in a wine glass, coming right up.” He stands, bending over to kiss the top of your head before walking out, leaving you to the silent bathroom.

He walks down the hall, peaking in Melody’s room, smiling at her sleeping figure that’s clutching the stuffed elephant he bought her in LA.

He continues downstairs, rounding the corner to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass and setting it on the counter as he opens the fridge for the juice. When he shuts the fridge his eyes land on the family calendar.

It’s full, mostly with his scribbled ‘Studio’, ‘Interview’, ‘Performance’, ‘LA’ scattered throughout the weeks. But it stands out bright and clear, purple ink making his heart break a little, ‘First Dance Lesson!!’

He sets the juice down, looking back at the calendar and sighing when he notices how all of yours and Melody’s big days land on a studio day, or when he’s in LA.

He scrubs a hand over his face, leaning against the counter, seeing the pile of dinner dishes that you haven’t had a chance to get to yet. He rolls his sleeves up, turning the water on and putting a dab of soap on the sponge.

It’s quiet, and he can think in peace as he cleans the dishes.

This isn’t what he expected when he thought of being a father.

He wanted to be there for bedtime, and breakfast. He wanted to build the bed, and the play structure in the backyard. He wanted shopping for clothes, and being there for dance lessons.

He didn’t want missing her first tooth growing in, or when she started dressing herself. He didn’t want to get home right at bedtime, not seeing her at all the whole day. He didn’t want to be absent.

He knows that’s why he’s struggling in the studio, and at writing sessions. He misses his family, and he’s kind of tired of the superstar life for the moment. He wants to be a dad, and husband, one who is actually there.

He jumps when he hears your voice behind him, snapping him from his thoughts.

“There you are,” You say walking down the steps in his white button up, hair still in a damp bun, glasses perched on your nose.

He looks over at you over his shoulder quickly before looking back down to the pink princess plate in his hand.

“Baby?” You ask, walking up beside him, hand rested on his shoulder. “Shawn are you crying?” You ask, worry thick in your voice.

His eyebrows furrow and it’s then that he notices the sting, and the tear dropping from his eyes.

“I guess I am,” He croaks out, voice breaking.

“Honey what’s wrong?” You ask, grabbing his hands and pulling sponge away from his fingers.

You turn the water off, and dry his hands with the kitchen towel hanging off the oven door. He sniffs, wiping his nose with his hand and sighing.

“Shawn,” You ask looking up at him, scrunching your nose to push your glasses back up your face.

“You know, I forgot about your glasses.” He shakes his head. “And how cute you look in them.”

“Babe,” You grab his chin softly, pulling it over so he has to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I missed her dance lesson.” He whispers, more tears falling. “And I’m gonna miss her doctors appointment next week.” He looks at the calendar. “And her next dance lesson.”

“Shawn,” You wrap your hand around his arm, pulling him back to you.

He shakes his head, breaking apart as you hug him. He buries his face in your neck, arms wrapping tight around you. His tears are wetting your neck, and his hiccups shake you both as he tries to take a deep breath.

“Breathe Baby,” You whisper into his ear, leaning up on your toes to hold him tighter.

“I’m a horrible Dad.” He cries into your neck, breaking your heart in the process.

You tug at his curls, pulling his head back so you can see his face.

“You are not,” You say sternly, his red eyes staring into yours so intensely. “You are an amazing Dad.” He shakes his head, eyes shutting.

“I’m never here,”

“Yes you are,” You argue.

“No, I’m not.” He protests. “I miss everything. I saw her for less than two minutes today. How- how is that being a good Dad?”

“Shawn,” You stop him, standing your ground. “Sure, you miss a few bedtimes, or a few outings to the park. But you’re here. If you weren’t she wouldn’t play me songs on the piano every morning, and she wouldn’t requests muffins for lunch everyday,” You smile, pointing out all the ways she’s Shawn. “She wouldn’t make up songs in the bathtub, and she wouldn’t wanna go to concerts, or with you to the studio. She wouldn’t know that her Daddy loves her more than anything in this world.” You caress the side of his face.

He sighs, biting his lip as he looks at you. “You think she knows that?”

“I know she knows that.” You nod, “And she loves you more than anything in this world. She’s the biggest Daddy’s girl, and she’s got you so wrapped around her little finger and knows it.”

He smiles, nodding. “Yeah she does,” He laughs.

“So don’t you ever say that again.” You hit his chest, making him stumble back a step, hips hitting the edge of the counter. His hands pulling you into him, lips crashing onto yours.

“Thank you,” He whispers between kisses, nose bumping against your glasses. “For making me feel better,”

“You just need to get out of your head Shawn Mendes, you’re loved by both girls in this home.”

He smiles, nodding as he kisses you again, tongue sliding against yours. “That was a short bath.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Wandered out to find out where my grape juice went.” You hum as he kisses down your jaw.

“Oh shit,” He pulls away, looking at the empty wine glass and bottle of juice sitting next to it. “I’m sorry, I got all in my head and started the dishes for you.”

“As much as I appreciate that.” You hum, pulling his hand. “I’d much rather have you join me in the bath.”

He looks at you with wide eyes, “Oh?” He follows you out of the kitchen, flipping the light off on his way.

He giggles as you pull him back to the bathroom, fumbling in the cabinets for your bath bomb. “Where is it?” You ask, moving cleaning supplies and make up out of the way.

“We’re out.” He laughs, “I looked earlier, found the empty bag.” He points to the trash where he threw the bag out.

“No!” You whine.

He laughs, “We can still take a bath, just with bubbles,” He shrugs. “This looks good on you by the way,” He tugs at the white button up that’s flashing him a bit of boob.

“We’re gonna need to refill the tub, it’s cold.” You sigh, pulling the plug and waiting for the water to drain.

He sits on the ledge, watching you grab the bubble bath bottle. “All we have is hers.” You giggle, showing him the ‘No tear, Princess Moana Bubble Bath!’

“Bubbles are bubbles.” He shrugs, biting his lip as you plug the tub, starting the water again.

You’re leaned over him as you pour some of the gel mix into the tub, and he smirks, reaching up and unbuttoning your shirt lower, exposing you completely to him.

“Shawn!” You laugh, looking down at his giddy smile.

He blushes and continues unbuttoning. “Take it off.” He whispers, slipping the fabric from your shoulders.

You wake the next morning, giggles floating up the stairs to your ears. You open your eyes to see Shawn’s side of the bed empty. You sigh, rolling over and grabbing his ‘Take Me Home’ shirt and pulling it over your head. You then slip your sleep shorts up your legs, jumping a bit to get them up your hips.

You tip toe down the stairs, listening over the banister as Shawn and Melody talk in the kitchen.

“But I want a purple tutu because no one else had a purple tutu. They all had pink like me.” She babbled.

“We can get you purple.” He responds. “Why do you want purple though Baby?”

“Because I want to stand out, how am I supposed to be my own person if I’m like everyone else Daddy?”

You smile, padding down the stairs silently.

“Where’d you learn that smart girl?” He asks.

“You,” She answers, munching on a strawberry in her chair.

Shawn stands at the stove, making eggs and bacon.

“G’Morning Mama,” Melody says when she sees you creep into the kitchen.

Shawn’s head whips over to see you, and your messy bed hair. You bite your lip when you see his shirtless figure in front of you.

“Good Morning,” He hums, leaning over for a kiss.

You smile into his lips, taking his coffee infused taste, moaning softly as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

“Good Morning,” You mumble, licking his taste from your lips as he pulls away.

“Mama, Daddy got you a gift.” Melody pipes up, causing you to look up at Shawn with wide eyes.

“A few actually.” He grins, taking your hand and guiding you to your chair, pulling it out for you. “But breakfast first.” He says walking away but returning with your plate of food and cup full of steaming coffee, doctored to your liking.

“Thanks Babe,” You smile up at him.

He smiles, sitting across sitting next to you at the table with his breakfast as well. “Don’t let her fool you,” Shawn smiles over at Melody, “She’s had eggs and three pieces of bacon.” He drops another strawberry to her plate.

Melody giggles, happily taking the berry and smashing it to her mouth.

“Someone must be hungry.” You tap her belly with a smile.

“Mhm!” She nods.

You look back over, sipping at your coffee. “I don’t really want to ask, because this is perfect. But why are you home?” You ask him.

He smiles, “Gift number one, I talked to Andrew. We still have to work everything out, but as of now Shawn Mendes is on hiatus.”

You gasp, choking on your coffee a bit. “Holy crap Babe,” You recover. “Why?”

“It’s time to be with my girls. Andrew agrees, it’s time to take some time off and live my life a little.”

“What about the album?”

“We hadn’t said anything about a new album, we didn’t even allude to writing, so stopping is no issue. And of course I’ll still write here from home, but no more studio, or interviews, or trips to LA.” He looks over his shoulder at the fridge.

He points to it, making your eyes follow.

“Gift two, new calendar. Full of Melody’s activities, that we’ll both be attending.”

“Oh Baby.” You smile at him.

“Gift three,” He continues. “Mum’s taking Melody for the night.” He smiles at his daughter.

“Why?” You ask with furrowed brows, watching him stand and grab two things from under the sink.

“Gifts four and five,” He smiles, holding up your favorite bottle of wine and a sex bath bomb. “We’re celebrating tonight.”

You blush, giggling as you look down.

“Shawn you didn’t have to do this.”

“I did,” He nods, looking at his girls and how happy they both look. He never wants to see anything but smiles on both of your faces. “It’s time to be a family.”

#shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes request #shawnmendes imagine #shawnmendes fluff #shawnmendes blurb #shawnmendes fic #shawnmendes request #shawn imagine #shawn fluff #shawn fic #shawn blurb #shawn request #shawn mendes #shawnmendes #dad!shawn

594 notes · View notes

luxlightly · 5 years

Text

After an HOUR of sifting through old drawings (because I kept pretty much every doodle I ever made in any scrap of paper ever) I finally found him:

My BOY. Dingchen in all his glory. The very first doodles of him (and one of the only few) I remembered that he had kind of curly hair but I forgot about his sort of stubbly half beard. He..... honestly looks a little like movie Eddie, actually. You can see I doodled this on my German notebook in highschool. My drawing has not improved since this, either.

Also found this boy,too, who was apparently named "Nathaniel", shortened to "Nate", not Sebastian. I found him first, actually. Took me 10 minutes to find this and the next 50 to find Dee. There's a little Dee on here, too, along with some Doctor Two Brains from Wordgirl and my old OC Don the Rock Guy who was one of my many ocs before they all were metaphorically thrown into a fire in the Great OC Purge of 2013.

I guess Nate liked to sing? Because he could shapeshift his vocal chords to sound like whatever he wanted, even giving himself multiple sets to sing chords by himself, I believe. Also I think that weird looking kid is him when he was slowly growing back from being mostly destroyed and spent some time as a child because it was a smaller form he could take while still being human (he also spent some time as a very pissed off bird). He dedicated himself to being as creepy and uncomfortable to be around in his kid form as physically possible because someone made the mistake of saying he looked cute. Standing at the end of long hallways and smiling vacantly a la The Shining, eyes always being just a tiny bit bigger than was natural, stuff like that.

A bonus Dee trying to look cool in a leather jacket but it's just never going to happen for him because he's way too dumb and sweet for that. The fact he does not strongly exude 'dumb as rocks' energy is only because of my lack of skill as an artist.

4 notes · View notes

neondnp · 6 years

Text

my ii m&g experience ♥

(long rambling and pic spam ahead)

arriving + waiting in line

prior to and upon arriving at the venue, i was SO incredibly nervous to the point that it nearly overpowered my excitement. my heart had been racing all week and my stomach was in knots. i’d been anticipating this very day for almost a year and i was absolutely terrified that something would go wrong. i kept having thoughts like, “what if there’s a ton of unexpected traffic backed up for hours and i miss the meet and greet?” “what if there’s something wrong with my ticket??” “what if i forget something important and i’m denied access?” “what if i DIE before i get there!?” luckily, none of my delusional fears from my panicked state of mind came true and most of my anxiety disappeared after i was given my wristband.

meeting and conversing with the lovely new friends i made in line put me at enough ease that my ability to comprehend the intense reality of the situation was beginning to vanish. everything was too dreamlike to feel real. was i really mere minutes away from meeting my idols??

suddenly, everyone started screaming. i looked up and saw phil standing at the rail. i nearly had a damn heart attack!! that’s phil! he literally looks like an angel! i heard dan’s voice from the other corner and turned around to see him right above us! that’s dan!! he glows! o m g !! there they are!! in person! holy s*** that’s actually them!!! whatever they said to us either completely went over my head or was entirely forgotten because i don’t recall any of it. this was the most surreal moment of my life.

shoutout to the girl on twitter who filmed some of this and caught my reaction after they waved and left lmao

i guess this is what my mind being completely blown looks like??!?

my adrenaline was through the roof, but i was too stupefied to feel emotional yet. my throat was drying as the line in front of me gradually got shorter. the lack of air conditioning upstairs didn’t help. i was close enough to talk to marianne (a queen, btw) about what i wanted to give them. i had a letter from a friend and two of my ii themed d&p drawings that i made into magnets. she told me she would keep them and give them to dan and phil after the meet and greet. disappointing, but understandable. i wrote my name on the magnets but they won’t have a clue who i am. oh well. here’s what they look like:

before i knew it, it was my turn to meet them. a friend i met in line agreed to film my meet and greet but was too nervous to do so once we approached our turns. although it sucks to not have footage, i fully understand having anxiety. she’s very sweet and i’d never want to cause her any stress.

the actual meeting and greeting:

before i get into the personal details and talk about my interaction with them, i’ll describe their irl voices and appearances.

i’d say they sound exactly the same in person. they don’t necessarily look any different from how they do in pictures and videos, just more radiant; especially phil. his hair somehow looks even darker irl and there’s an indescribably beautiful contrast between his black hair, vibrant eyes, and pale skin. it makes him look otherworldly. his features are sharp. dan’s stubble is actually quite prominent, even from a distance. his features are soft. there’s not really much else to say about his appearance; he’s just as gorgeous in the flesh as he is on a screen. they were just as tall as i expected them to be so i wasn’t alarmed by their height. it did, however, feel different to look up at them and see them from a new (significantly lower) angle as opposed to seeing them from an eye-level camera angle. the same can be said about viewing them on stage from a close orchestra seat.

now, onto the good part! i wish i could remember more details, but meeting them was such a blur that i didn’t feel like it even happened at all until the next day (more on that later). most of my dreams are more vivid than this memory is. my brain was majorly lagging from the moment i was far enough ahead in line to be off the stairs, and my entire consciousness seemed to exist in some alternate dimension when i walked toward their direction to be greeted. i remember one or both of them saying, “hiii!” and dan saying “thanks for coming to see us!” i remember phil instantly opening his arms and asking if i wanted a hug. i think i said, “hi! yes i do!” i remember it being so much easier to talk to them than i thought it would be. words came naturally despite having very little awareness of what i was saying and—due to being in such a daze—completely forgetting to say any of the important things i’ve always wanted to tell them. they were both so warm, gentle, and welcoming. i was too out of it to realize this at the time, but looking back, they treated me like i was an old friend of theirs; like i was someone who mattered. that warms my heart. they genuinely care about making us feel comfortable and relaxed.

dan did most of the talking. i don’t remember what either of their hugs felt like, but i do remember dan giving me one of his awkward “dan hugs” lol. dan and i were both wearing striped shirts and he said that we were “totally coordinated with our stripes” which made me WAY happier than it should have, but oh man i was BEAMING. “we are!”

when phil asked if i’d like to have something signed, i took out a print of the two portraits i drew of them. “yes, can you sign my art please?” after handing the print to them, dan said, “oh my god did you draw these??” and i responded with something dumb like, “i did! it took me like my entire life but yeah!!” i really wish i could have seen them react to my drawings, but i didn’t think to look at their faces when i showed them. in fact, i’m not even sure if i made eye contact with them at all. they complimented me on my art but i don’t remember what they said. i'm not 100% certain, but i think dan called it incredible.

dan offered to take the selfie so i handed him my phone and we all got close and smiled for the camera. i noticed from other people’s meet and greet pics that phil had a tendency to lean his head in next to fans, but i’d of course forgotten about this detail. i was so weak later on when i saw how close our faces were in the group photo, w o w !! i asked if we could take individual pictures as well and dan said, “of course!”

this is the part i remember the most clearly. taking individual pictures was almost like hugging them again, only better because i was a little more aware—i was almost able to actually process it this time. looking at them you’d expect to feel nothing but firmness and bones, but they’re both delightfully squishy; especially dan. they’re two tall adorable teddy bears. dan fondly said, “thank you philip” when phil took our picture and it was the cutest thing. after the pictures were taken, i thanked them for about the tenth time. i remember saying “thank you” and “thank you so much” to almost everything they said and did. i probably would have thanked them if they accidentally stepped on my foot or dropped my phone. they told me to enjoy the show and i thanked them once more. i wished them a good show and at some point i think i said, “it was really nice meeting you.” we waved and said our goodbyes to each other.

and then it was over.

wait, it’s over. what the hell just happened?

i literally forgot everything on the spot.

everything happened so rapidly and it ended before i had even begun to take any of it in. i really wish i could have absorbed the moment more. i wish i could have said more. this may sound silly, but none of it felt real. it didn’t initially feel like, “aah i just met dan and phil!!” instead, it felt more like, “...did i really meet dan and phil? wouldn’t i have remembered meeting them if it really happened?” i was so disappointed in myself. how was i that spaced out the whole time? i expected a more emotional experience, but it was all so surreal that i wasn’t even in touch with reality, let alone with my emotions. i didn’t know how to react, so i blanked out into a strange semiconscious state and i hated myself for it.

i went on to realize that meeting them was indeed a very emotional experience; i just needed to fully recover from my daze for it to hit me. while most of my memory is still a blur, several small details came back to me the following day bit by bit. it was enough for me to look back on and miss. it took me days to recall everything i wrote about above. i did cry. i was emotionally impacted, just not right away. it had to catch up with me. meeting them was absolutely amazing. looking at my pictures and signed artwork elates me. i actually met dan and phil!

even though i didn’t say what i wanted to, i’m grateful that i managed to talk to them at all. i was so sure i’d either stumble over my words or end up speaking in my stupid high-pitched nervous voice. i was also afraid i’d cry in front of them and i didn’t. it went smoothly and i survived. i have a few regrets, but i still loved it. i loved them.

i’d do it again in a heartbeat.

yes i was very extra with the editing but these pics mean a lot to me and i wanted them to look the best they could

what i didn’t get to say:

@danielhowell @amazingphil thank you for inspiring so much creativity, motivation, and passion within me. you guys are the reason i wanted to start drawing again. you’re the reason why i stopped immediately giving up. you’re the reason i’ve met so many spectacular people and became part of such a diverse and extraordinary community. you guys give me a reason to smile. i love you, thank you for everything ♥ - alexis

#dan howell #phil lester #interactive introverts #ii nashville #daniel howell #amazingphil #meet and greet #personal #very very personal actually #it took several hours to write this and i cried through half of it #dnp #dan and phil #posts by alexis #*content #.txt #*mycontent

246 notes · View notes

comingcalum · 6 years

Text

masterpiece - C.H.

art student!calum decides to draw a masterpiece

word count: 2.2k / Third person (Calum x Amelia)

Amelia was in a world of her own as the lecturer in front of her rambled on about some building in the middle of Rome. A spare blue pen was tucked behind her ear, and she chewed on the end of her pencil as she stared at the half-completed drawing in her notebook. She pursed her lips and squinted at the page, trying to pinpoint why it didn’t look like she had imagined it to. The hair! It just wasn’t sitting right on her face. She poked her tongue out between her lips in concentration while she erased it, redrawing it until she was satisfied. She tried to make a masterpiece every time the lead touched the page, but some days it didn’t come as easily.

Meanwhile, a few rows behind her, a boy - Calum was his name - was also drawing his own masterpiece. He was erasing and redrawing the lines so frequently that the people a few spaces away from him were getting annoyed at the sound. Nevertheless, he persisted. He had to get this drawing perfect, for no other reason than the fact that he was a perfectionist. It was ironic really, the fact that he chose to be an artist with such a meticulous personality. The boy beside him - Luke - let out a low groan and turned to face Calum. He stopped what he was doing and looked at him, expecting a conversation to ensue.

“This class is so boring, I don’t know how you do it dude,” Luke whispered, scratching his stubble.

Calum looked down at the drawing in front of him and then back at Luke. “I don’t, I just draw,” He chuckled, returning his attention to the sketch. He paid special attention to the sharpness of the jawline.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell her,” Luke said again and Calum looked up to meet his tired eyes. There was a small smile dancing on Luke’s lips and Calum just rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that simple,”

“Except it is,” He insisted. “All you have to do is go up to her and be like… Hey Amelia, you’re fucking gorgeous and I’d love to fuck your brains out,”

Calum’s eyes widened and he looked around the room sheepishly to make sure no one could hear their conversation. A few eyes were darting their way and he hoped no one had heard about his little crush. The last thing he needed was for her to find out from someone else, it would be like high school all over again, and he definitely didn’t want that.

“Shut up, she’s so much more than that…,” He shook his head and began sketching her again.

“So you’re just going to draw her in your notebook until she is literally embedded into your brain?,” Luke asked.

“I gues-”

“Luke! Calum! Do you have something you would like to say?” The lecturer shouted, and both Calum and Luke sat there, mouths hanging open. Calum slammed his notebook shut before anyone could see what was inside.

Amelia jumped at the sudden interruption and turned around to look at the two boys causing the disturbance. She stares at Calum and Luke, mouths hanging open, and chuckles softly to herself as she waits for them to answer. Calum’s eyes meet hers and his breath catches in his throat, a blush rising to his cheeks. She just smiles at him, her head resting on her hand. He likes the way her hair looks today, the wild red waves tucked behind her ear with a stray hair resting on her temple. He makes sure to take in as much of her as he can, like the way her nose and cheeks are covered in freckles, and how when she smiles at him her dimples appear. In Calum’s eyes, she was the prettiest thing, and he tried to do her justice in his notebook, but he didn’t think it could come close to how beautiful she was in person.

Luke elbows Calum in the ribs and he finally finds the courage to speak. “Uh, no sir, sorry,” He clears his throat and the lecturer nods, returning to speaking moments later. Amelia turns back around and continues her drawing.

“Good one, idiot,” Calum glares at Luke and he just shrugs, attempting to focus on the lecture without much luck. Despite the embarrassment, he couldn’t shake the image of Amelia burnt into his mind.

Calum looked at his watch, wondering when the lecture was going to be over. 12:47 p.m. “Shit,” He mutters under his breath. Luke looks at him with his eyebrows raised, watching Calum turn from embarrassed to stressed in a matter of seconds. He begins frantically packing his belongings away, stuffing them into his bag without much care. The lecturer’s annoyance is evident, but he’s glad to see the boy leaving.

“Dude, I gotta go sorry,” He whispers to Luke, giving him a pat on the back as he climbs over the front of the table. He jogs down the stairs and heads to the door. Amelia looks up and watches him hurry toward the door, but returns her attention to the lecture before the door slams shut.

A few minutes later and the lecture ends, everyone scurrying out as fast as possible to attend their next class for the day. Amelia is the last one to leave, not in any rush as she had the next hour free. She finishes up the last touches of her sketch and smiles to herself, happy with how the drawing turned out as it wasn’t her strength. She enjoyed painting much more, and she was much better at it too. She painted from the inside out. All her emotions or struggles were imprinted on the canvases when she painted. The colours, the different shades, lines, textures, they all resembled a little part of how she was feeling. When she wanted to escape the world, she picked up a paintbrush, and that was her escape.

After packing up her belongings, Amelia headed to the door. It was now 1:29 p.m. As she was pushing her earphones in, she noticed a small brown book in the corner of her eye. It was partially hidden behind the rubbish bin near the door, but it wasn’t hidden enough to make her think it was intentionally put there. She picks it up, running her hands over the soft brown leather. The notebook showed some wear in the corners, but there was no name on it anywhere. She wonders how long it’s been sitting there and if it’s missing its owner. She doesn’t want to pry, but she needs to find the owner, so she opens the book and tries to find anything that may help her determine who the book belongs to. There’s a few scribbles on the front page, and she assumed it was the page where they tried to get their pen working. She turns the page, and there’s a few casual doodles, like they were practicing, eyes, hands, and lips were scattered across the paper, but they were so realistic. The person had gotten the shading perfect. She turned the page again, there was a drawing of the moon phases, and she blinked in disbelief, amazed by how well drawn everything had been in this book so far. On the next page, there was writing instead. It read “And you’ll move on, and fall in love with another brain, another soul. And i’ll still be here, waiting,” she felt the words tug at her heartstrings.

The door in front of her flew open and she let out a gasp, leaping in fright as she slammed the book shut and held it against her chest. It was Calum. He froze when he saw Amelia, and then he noticed the book she was holding in her arms. It belonged to him.

“I, uh-,” He stutters, pointing to the book in her arms.

“Oh, this.. This is yours?,” She asks, peeling the book from her chest as she reads the writing on the page again. He nods and scratches the back of his neck, chewing on his lip.

“Do you mind? You’re insanely good,” She smiles at him, waiting for reassurance to carry on flicking through his notebook.

“Thanks, I tend to just draw whatever feels right at the time,” He replies, and Amelia starts turning over the pages again. He awkwardly shuffles to stand beside her, looking at his past artwork with her.

Calum watches her as she admires his artwork. He watches her tuck her hair behind her ear every so often because it tickled her face. She ran her slender fingers over the page occasionally, and he watched her take her bottom lip between her teeth, concentrating on what was in front of her. She looked up at him every so often too, but he looked away - he didn’t want her to catch him staring. The longer he watched her, the more delirious he felt. The deep red freckles against her pale skin was such a nice contrast that he was in awe. When Calum was around her, he wondered how it was possible that he had ever felt sorrow. Her forest green eyes were always soft, willing, as if she was eager to listen to all your problems and help you fix them. And when she smiled - god, that smile - the one where she showed off her perfect teeth as she scrunched her eyes shut and let out a giggle. That smile would be the death of Calum - it left him weak at the knees. All he wanted was to grab her face and kiss those pretty lips of hers.

As he thought about her and how perfectly her hands would fit in his, he remembered something. Something he didn’t want her to know yet. And it was there - in that very book she was holding. He knew it was on the next page, but he didn’t want her to stop - but he did - but he didn’t. He held onto the smallest bit of hope that she would love it, and then turn around and kiss him on those pretty lips of his. But that was a bit of a stretch, he knew that. They had only talked a handful of times, mostly when she needed help with graphic design - something she struggled with. He knew she preferred a paintbrush to a pencil, and a canvas to a computer screen. Yet, he still wanted her to know how he felt, without actually having to say it out loud to her. As she flipped the pages, the portrait of her came into view, and Calum turned to face the other way, not wanting to see her reaction.

“Um-, Yeah… I forgot that was in there,” He lied, his hand running through his hair as he pulled lightly on the curls.

“Calum...I,”

“I know it’s stupid, I’m sorry, it’s just you looked so beautiful and I just had to save that moment without it being creepily on my phone..,” He paused. “I guess it’s still creepy because it’s in my book… but anyway, yeah, you just… you’re just gorgeous, and you felt right at the time, IT-it felt right at the uh.. time,”

Calum questioned whether he had really just said that out loud. He cringed internally when he realised he had, and he tried to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t in a dream. Amelia noticed and laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Calum, no, it’s great, it looks just like me, except better,” She chuckled, not tearing her eyes from the drawing of her. It was almost as if it was a photo. Every small detail about her was apparent on the page - the septum piercing, the one freckle that kissed her ear lobe, the freckle under her eye- everything. Even the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips was drawn, and she laughed, somewhat embarrassed at her concentration face. She was flattered, and she could feel her heart racing at the thought a boy like Calum would choose her as his subject. Underneath it, she was built from fire was written in cursive. She smiled at the comment, and remembered how her mother had always told her she didn’t have red hair for nothing.

“That’s not possible,” He whispered, and Amelia looked up at him. Her lips curled into a small smile, and Calum watched her carefully. She closed the book after that and handed it back to him. He stuffed it into his bag, careful to make sure it’s not going to fall out this time.

“Well, I better go, I have class in…,” She looked at her watch. 1:43 p.m. “Seventeen minutes,”

As her hand wrapped around the door handle, she turned around to give him another smile, waiting to see if he had anything to say. He did.

“Actually, Mel-” His eyes widened at the nickname that had just rolled off his tongue, and she giggled at his reaction.

“It’s fine, you can call me Mel,” She replied.

“Great, okay… Mel, did you want to go get a bite to eat after your class? I have the rest of the afternoon free,” He asks, scratching the back of his neck. Amelia began to notice he did this when he was nervous.

“That would be lovely,”

“I’ll see you outside…,”

“L block, at 3 p.m.,” And with that, Amelia disappeared out of sight.

Calum looked around to make sure no one was there, and then fist pumped the air, grabbing his phone out of his pocket to text Luke about what had just happened.

Well, I thought this was a really cute concept. I based it off an au :) Hope ya liked it. (Tbh, I think it could be improved a lil but it’s fine for now)

134 notes · View notes

welcometophu · 6 years

Text

Not Your Love Song: Chapter 15

Marked Book 2: Not Your Love Song

Chapter 15

[ Previous | First | Next ]

After Darrik parks near Minnisale’s, he comes around to open the car door for Rory, and takes his hand on the way out. Darrik has shorter fingers than Rory, but his palms are larger, and his hands are overall just as big, wrapping comfortably around Rory’s. It’s warm and easy as he tugs him toward the restaurant.

It’s nice.

As they wait to be seated, Darrik idly runs his thumb along the side of Rory’s hand. Rory pulls lightly, and Darrik’s ears go pink. He raises their joined hands. “Sorry, I should have asked. Is this okay?”

“I am the touchiest do-not-touch person you will ever meet,” Rory says. He follows the hostess when she motions, tugging Darrik along with him. Darrik releases his hand, lightly touches the small of Rory’s back instead. He manages to pull Darrik’s chair out before Darrik gets there, but Darrik counters by pulling Rory’s out as well.

The hostess leaves their menus on the table and leaves them to it, as they both settle into their respective seats.

“That’s a strange description,” Darrik says, opening the menu. He pulls out a pair of reading glasses, settles them on his nose. “I forgot these the other night, and while I can read without them, it isn’t comfortable. Apparently I have the eyes of an old person; they’re starting to go bad before I get close to thirty.”

“I’m going to start calling you old man,” Rory deadpans. He knows exactly what he wants already and doesn’t bother opening the menu.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” Darrik smirks. “Seriously, though, if I do anything that bothers you, you’ll let me know, right?”

Rory huffs, rubs at the back of his neck. “Maybe we should clarify a few things.”

Darrik lowers the menu, brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”

“Someone’s going to come take our order. Figure out what you want first,” Rory says. “How do you feel about sharing garlic toast with cheese, or fried ravioli, for appetizers?”

“Both,” Darrik decides. He motions for the waiter to come over, and Rory leans back out of the way while water is poured for both of them. As soon as they’ve ordered and the menus are collected, Darrik leans forward, elbows on the table. “What’s wrong?”

Aesthetically, Rory knows that Darrik is hot. Thorne may have even mentioned it a few times, and Stormy keeps asking how things are with the hot new boyfriend. He’s definitely pretty, with a jawline defined by artful stubble, and high cheekbones. He also continues to look like an absent-minded professor, in a soft grey button down and a blazer over that, faded jeans helping him seem less formal.

But that’s all aesthetic. No matter how good Darrik looks, Rory doesn’t want.

“I guess I wanted to find out exactly what this is, so I have context for the hand-holding and what would bother me or not,” Rory says slowly, gesturing between them. “Not to mention that there are some things you should probably know up front.”

“That really makes me want to ask what things, but I figure you want an answer to the first part before that.” Darrik leans back, his legs bumping Rory’s under the table. “This is a date.” His ears warm from pink to red, a shaded warmth along his cheekbones as well. “If that’s what you want. It’s no secret that I’m not over Noah. I’m probably not even ready to date seriously, so this is non-serious dating.”

Rory bites back a smile. “Non-serious dating, okay.”

“I don’t want you thinking that I’m looking for the one,” Darrik says.

“I’m eighteen. I’m not even thinking about looking for the one,” Rory replies. He tries not to think about the ink on his wrist, silently proclaiming that the one might be nearby. “I’m looking for someone to go out with. Maybe cuddle. Holding hands is definitely fine. When I know someone, I like to be close to them, but I can be standoffish other than that.” He hesitates, because he doesn’t really know Darrik all that well, and the last part is harder to say. “I’m not looking for sex.”

The flush spreads over Darrik’s face, suffusing his skin right down to his collar. “Um. Neither am I, actually. I mean, I’m not opposed to it, as a general thing, but that’s really not what I’m looking for right now. I’d think it’d probably be unhealthy, considering I’m still mourning, and then there’s the age difference.” He echoes Rory’s gesture between them.

“Okay, good. Because I am. Opposed to it as a general thing.” Rory swallows, glances upward as Darrik’s eyebrows go up. “I’m ace. So if that’s a thing that’s an issue—”

“No,” Darrik says quickly. “It’s not an issue. I take it you’re not sex positive?”

“Sex repulsed, I guess.” Rory shrugs. “I just… I’m ace. I have no desire to get in bed with someone for that purpose, and I’m really not interested in hearing about it. Although that part might just be because my brother talks about it a lot. Thorne has no filters.”

When he looks down at his hands on the table, he knows he should probably mention the swirl of grey on his wrist, too. But they’ve both just agreed that they’re not looking for permanency, and Rory doesn’t feel like dumping all his baggage on the table at once.

“So,” Darrik says.

“So,” Rory echoes. “This is non-serious dating with some hand holding and snuggling and companionship and no real plans for the future and nothing involving getting naked.”

He might not want sex, but he has to admit in some weird way, it’s kind of adorable the way Darrik blushes every time it gets mentioned.

Darrik smiles through the flush, taps a finger on the table. “How do you feel about kissing?”

“Haven’t really had a great experience with it yet, but I’m not averse to trying again,” Rory admits. “I’ll tell you if I can’t stand it, as long as you realize it’s nothing to do with you and everything to do with me not liking other people’s tongues in my mouth.”

“Got it.” Darrik ducks his head, picks up his water to take a long gulp. When he sets it down, his smile is soft and gentle. “Now that we’ve got all that hammered out, maybe we should talk about whatever you’ve got planned for Lora?”

His hands lie on the table, and Rory reaches across, tangles his fingers with the tips of Darrik’s fingers. Darrik squeezes gently in return, meeting Rory’s eyes when he smiles.

“Okay, so there are two other guys from Coven that I’m working with,” Rory tells him. When Darrik starts idly stroking Rory’s hand, it feels good. Warm, comfortable. He likes the connection, almost as good as a puppy pile with his friends and family. “Kit’s a junior. He’s from a predictive family, and since you were working on a questioning rit—” Rory cuts off as Darrik’s grip tightens abruptly.

“I don’t want you to work the same ritual,” Darrik says carefully. “I don’t want to risk that.”

“I don’t know if it was the ritual you worked, or who was working it that called the shadows to you,” Rory replies, just as seriously. “The point I was trying to make is that Kit’s innate Talent is looking at possibilities. Shane doesn’t have an innate Talent, and mine has no bearing on this. Unless—what’s Lora’s innate ability?”

“She has an affinity for water,” Darrik says. “We weren’t using it, I don’t think. Why, what’s yours?”

“I can stop other people’s Talents from manifesting,” Rory says. “If you were able to shift, I could keep the beast from coming over you. I basically quiet Talent of all kinds.” He hesitates, decides it can’t hurt anything to say. “When we captured a shadow, I was able to keep it from escaping. But it was exhausting, and not an experience I’d like to repeat. Honestly, I’d rather never meet another one of them.”

“Same,” Darrik says, voice falling hard on the one word. He twists around, sits back as the waiter approaches and leaves the garlic bread and ravioli.

Rory reaches for the garlic bread immediately, ripping one soft, toasted piece apart, letting the cheese stretch between the two pieces. He shoves a huge chunk in his mouth, eyes watering because it’s still too hot to eat, and there’s too much cheese. He chews quickly, grabs for his water, and manages to swallow it down. He sets the rest down and blinks away the tears.

“Hot?” Darrik asks mildly, a hint of a laughter in his voice.

“A bit.” Rory stabs a ravioli with his fork and drags it through the marinara, while Darrik does the same. They both eye each other before Darrik leans in to take a cautious bite.

“Hot,” Darrik declares, and Rory snorts.

He sets down his ravioli and cuts it neatly so he can blow on it, and not embarrass himself further. On the other hand, Darrik seems more amused than embarrassed, nudging his foot under the table, and smiling when Rory glances up.

“Noah had a weakness for fries,” Darrik says with a soft smile. “He never could remember to wait for them to cool.”

“I really wish I could’ve met him.” It’s not just words. The more Rory hears about Noah, the more he sounds like he was probably fun. Big-hearted. Loving life and leaping in, but not offensively loud. He couldn’t be, not with someone like Darrik on his side.

Of course, Rory could also be completely wrong. It’s not like Noah’s around for Dax to introduce them, either. If Noah were still around, things might be easier. Or Dax just might be pissed off to have two ghosts bugging him about the shadow situation, since Orson hasn’t let go of it yet, either.

“Where’d you go?” Darrik gestures with his fork, and Rory shifts his focus back to him.

“Nowhere, really. I do that a lot. Drift off.” The bread’s cooler, and Rory finishes his slice quickly. “I think what we’ll be doing is centering our ritual around Kit’s cards, or whatever method he chooses. So Kit might need to touch Lora, or we’ll have Shane touch Lora and focus Kit, so Kit can have his hands free. I’ll be providing power, or additional ritual, or whatever Kit needs. We haven’t worked out the details.”

“I’m willing to talk to Lora’s parents, but I’d like to….” Darrik’s voice fades; he looks uncertain.

Rory has a feeling he knows where this is going. “If you want to be involved in the ritual and there when we do it, that’s fine, as long as you’re comfortable. They can be there, too. And if you want to meet Kit and Shane, well, Kit wanted me to ask if you’d like to come see the movie on campus on Saturday.” It’s Rory’s turn to feel warm, heat suffusing his cheeks. “You’re probably done with campus life, but the Saturday movies are sponsored by different clubs and groups at PHU. This Saturday it’s SigPsiEp, which is Kit’s sister’s sorority, so he’s taking his girlfriend to it, and he thought that I could bring you. And I’ll tell Shane to just come along, or he can bring someone if he wants.”

“A double date?” Darrik raises one eyebrow.

It sounds so… high school… when he says it like that.

“If you want?” Rory’s voice lilts up, questioning.

“I don’t mind going on campus,” Darrik points out. “I was dating an undergrad. I still have friends at VIT—they were Noah’s friends and they became my friends. I still spend time there. So yes, Saturday sounds good. Where should I park and where should we meet?”

Rory grabs a napkin and Darrik produces a pen for him to write directions and draw a quick sketch of the campus. “We’ll see the 7 o’clock showing, then we usually go to Teas Please after, since it’s too cold for ice cream.”

“That sounds good. I’m looking forward to meeting your friends.” Darrik lifts the ravioli plate, moves the small cup of marinara to the garlic bread plate, then spills the remaining ravioli onto that plate as well, stacking the empty one underneath. He clears space just in time for their dinners to arrive.

The eggplant parmesan is one of Rory’s favorites, and his stomach rumbles when he smells it.

Darrik nudges him under the table. “Don’t look so nervous. Saturday will be fun. You’ll have to text me and tell me what movie’s showing.”

Rory would tell him, except he’s forgotten. And it doesn’t matter right now anyway, as Darrik asks about touring, and Rory asks for more stories from Darrik’s school, and dinner passes in a haze of conversation.

Rory offers to walk back after, but Darrik drives him the short distance to Davison. Before Rory gets out, Darrik says, “Hug?” So Rory leans across the seat, lets Darrik pull him in to a strong hug. Fingers dig into Rory’s shoulders, as Darrik presses his face into the curve of Rory’s neck, and Rory instinctively rubs his cheek against Darrik’s as if he were Alaric. He can feel Darrik’s smile as he returns the same motion.

“Clan really does give the best hugs,” Rory murmurs. “I have to go. I have an early class tomorrow.”

“And homeroom starts at seven for me. But it’s worth it.” Darrik lets him go, and Rory eases out of the car, closing the door quietly behind him. Darrik waits until Rory’s got the door to Davison open, then pulls away.

Rory pulls his phone from his pocket, texts Stormy: Skype? I’m on my way up to my room.

His laptop is chiming when he walks in, and he quickly logs in and answers the call after closing the door to his room. “Hey.”

Stormy’s reclined on her bed, music playing somewhere in the distance. Something driving and techno, probably her roommate. “What’s up?” she asks. “I didn’t miss a song date, did I?”

“I have some lyrics to send to you that I want to work up a rhythm line for, but that’s not what this is, no.” Rory rubs at his cheeks, wondering if he’s still flushed. “I sort of have a boyfriend.”

“You found your soulmate?” Stormy squeals, clapping.

Rory winces, holds up his hand to show the cloud on his wrist. “No, no, it’s not that. I have no idea who that is. I said sort of, didn’t I? It’s Darrik.”

The smile falls away. “Darrik from the show, Darrik?” Stormy tilts her head, brow furrowed. When Rory nods, she continues, “Darrik who’s still mourning his boyfriend? Darrik who’s like way older than you?”

“Yes, and it’s something like six years, and I said sort of,” Rory emphasizes. “We’re dating but not seriously. We’re hanging out. It’s a no sex thing, so you don’t have to worry about that. I’m working on some ritual magic to help him with Lora. We just have fun. And hold hands. And he gives really good Clan hugs.”

“And you like him,” Stormy says.

Rory bites his lip, smiles. “Yeah. I don’t know if I like him exactly like that. He’s got a lot of baggage and so do I, but I’m pretty sure this is the way to figure it out, right? We date. We go to dinner, movies, hang out. And apparently do ridiculous rituals together and potentially fight dangerous shadows.”

Stormy opens her mouth, one finger up, then points it at Rory. “How about you don’t fight dangerous shadows. Stick with the dinners and hugging.” She hesitates, then adds, “And be careful. You barely know him. And he really does have a lot of baggage that you probably can’t fully understand.”

“I know.” Rory wants to say that he gets it, but he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t, not completely. But he’s willing to listen, and maybe that’s all Darrik wants. Which is okay. He’s still feeling his way along this, too. “I just… I feel good about this right now. I like hanging out with him.”

“Then good, I’m really happy for you.” Stormy blows him a loud kiss. “Give him my love, and tell him that if you ever go from not-seriously-dating to seriously-seriously-dating I’m going to probably give him the shovel talk, because that’s what friends do. And while having your heartbroken would give you some serious song writing material, I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“You’re so sweet.” Rory holds up a finger, reaches to grab a fragment of lyrics he shoved in a bag. “Okay, this isn’t much. But follow me with this. I need to figure out what the cadence is before I can do more.”

Because in the end, dating is good, but music is Rory’s life. And there’s nothing wrong with an impromptu song writing date.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

#welcome to phu #welcometophu #not your love song #phu marked #marked

8 notes · View notes