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idkyouyet23 · 6 months ago

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‘On My Mind’

~ a LITG Max fanfic ~

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Chapter Two - Sparks Are Flying

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 💌:

Chapter two is finally here :)

Just to say again, I’m not going directly from the script as I wanna be more creative with this fanfic,

fanfic inspired by the song ‘On My Mind’ by Alexander 23,

I just wanna say the biggest thank you to everyone who read the first chapter,

I appreciate it more than you know.

I’d love to hear your thoughts so let me know in the comments!!!

I love you guys so much <33

~Jess

check it on AO3 or you can read it below,

whatever you like :)

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯:

After Jack’s return, the girls called for a chat but as soon as we begin to talk my phone pings,

‘I’ve got a text!’

‘Ooh what is it?’, Emel asks and I open the message, my jaw drops

𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢, I think to myself.

‘Well we’re going to Casa Amor ladies!’

I shout out trying to sound enthusiastic and the girls scream as we race to the dressing room,

I look through my suitcase for an outfit and eventually I pick out my leather pants which I pair with a teal corset and teal heels,

After a few minutes, we’re all ready to leave.

‘Bea your outfit is so cute’, I tell her with a smile

‘Thanks Jazzy, I’m in love with your outfit too’

‘I couldn’t agree more, you look so pretty Jazzy!’, Claudia adds and Emel speaks up,

‘Anyways what’s our thoughts about Casa?’

‘Theo and I have had our ups and downs but right now, I’m not sure what to do with Casa’, Claudia replies

‘Technically Jazzy and Bea are both single so you guys will have to twist even if it’s just to get back here to the Villa’

‘Ah I was forgetting about that,

I’m gonna miss Jack though’

I groan as Bea glances in my direction

‘Maybe we could twist with each other’,

She teases and I giggle

‘Maybe who knows what will happen’

‘I think you should just forget about Jack’,

Emel states and I say nothing back,

𝘚𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴? 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

After our chat, we head over to the Casa Amor Villa, I almost feel faint with the nerves or maybe it’s the fact that it’s so hot here,

I didn’t even realise that I had stopped walking until Claudia calls out to me,

‘Jazzy you coming?’, I nod and all of us step out onto the grass, across the way I can see four boys, suddenly the nerves go away as I lock eyes with a blonde boy who has beautiful hazel eyes

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦, 𝘐’𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

I can’t take my eyes off him until I hear another boy speak

‘You took your time getting here girls, we’ve been waiting

anyways I’m Liam, I’m 26 from Oxford, crushing the finance game’,

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

Then I hear another voice,

‘I’m Shawn, 27 and a chef from Atlanta’

𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘴.

I take a glimpse of the last boy, tattoos cover his body that I can see through his mesh top, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴,

‘Hi, I’m Kyle, I’m 24, from Swansea. In case you couldn’t guess from my look,

I’m a tattoo artist’

My eyes trail once again to the pretty boy that I saw first, he catches me looking at him and he smiles at me before he speaks,

‘Haven’t been able to get a word in, but I’m Max, I’m 23 and I’m a music producer

from Liverpool’

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘐’𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥.

‘Who are we liking girlies?’,

Emel inquires

‘Oh are we gonna do this when the boys are with us?’ Bea asks

‘It shows us where your heads are at’,

Liam states and he speaks again,

‘Just to be clear though, I only like Bea’

‘I’ll start, I’m liking Kyle’

I zone out as I pick anxiously at my fingers,

Claudia swipes her hand in front of my face

‘Jazz you okay?’

‘Huh? Yep I am’

‘We’ve all had our turn,

so who do you like?’,

I glance at Max, he looks directly into my eyes

‘Max definitely! I mean, you’re the cutest, how could I not like you?’

‘Woah, what a coincidence? I like you too’

‘Aww really?’, I ask and Max nods but before he’s able to reply,

Kyle opens his mouth

‘Before you arrived, he couldn’t stop talking about you Jazzy’

‘That’s so adorable’, Bea comments

as I feel my heart melt

𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘚𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦.

We all split out into our own conversations,

I’m currently sat on one of the daybeds with Max beside me

‘I listened to your whole discography a few days ago and can I just say that I absolutely love your music’, Max tells me

𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤?!

‘Jesus that must have taken a long time to listen to all of it’, I respond

‘It was worth it for you though’

‘What is your favourite song of mine?’

I inquire with curiosity

‘Ooh my favourite song was have to be chaotic, I just love the emotion that it shows’

‘Chaotic is definitely a fan favourite!

I might have to bring you home so I have another producer’, I reply with a wink

‘That’s your only reason?’, Max teases

‘Oh and that you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen’, I tell him and I watch

as Max’s eyes soften

‘Well for what it’s worth, you’re also the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen’, Max smiles beamingly and I feel my heart melt once more

‘Aww stop that!’

‘It’s true though, I know we’ve only just met but I’m feeling a spark

between us for sure’

‘I’m feeling a spark between us too Max,

I feel like I’ve known you my whole life when realistically it’s only been a couple of hours’ I couldn’t help but smile at Max again

‘I’m glad that we’re on the same page’

‘Me too!’

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘹 ‘𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

#love island the game #love island game #litg #litg season 8 #litg s8 #litg tempting fate #litg fanfic #litg ff #litg max

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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years ago

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Ahoy!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: In some timeline, Starcourt didn't burn down and Eddie was able to go to work selling ice cream. He and Steve make a little bet, from which Eddie comes out happy.

A/N: don't look for canonical logic in this, I just need to imagine my husband in shorts

"You suck, Munson" laughed Robin, leaning out the window and placing a new line in the corresponding box "Although look at it on the bright side, you and Steve could compete for who is worse"

“And how about you enter the competition too? You'd totally kick us out,” Eddie taunted, causing the girl to throw a plastic spoon at him and Steve to smile.

Eddie Munson had walked into the job at Scoops Ahoy just a few weeks ago, but somehow he had won the hearts of both of them. At first both had been too suspicious, but they had to accept him thanks to the tremendous love that Dustin Henderson seemed to have for him, and what started as a committed relationship ended up becoming a friendship. He made them laugh and honestly brought a chaotic spark to the place. Also, during the holidays an extra pair of hands was perfect when dispensing scoops of ice cream.

"Here comes the next one, it's your turn dingus" Robin murmured with a mocking face. Steve took a deep breath, mentally preparing to make a fool of himself in front of another girl, but when he was about to turn to say hello, he was violently pushed out of the way by his partner.

“Ahoy, lady!” Eddie said enthusiastically, with a smile that could be described as completely nervous. You were standing in front of him, wearing a lime green dress and your hair full of butterfly barrettes, while you held a huge knitted bag on your shoulder "For which flavors would you like to sail this afternoon?” he asked, in the kindest tone he managed to get out of himself.

Both Robin and Steve looked at each other, not understanding why Eddie had been so aggressive in serving you especially, and decided to watch the scene with curiosity.

"Do they make you say that to all the customers?" you asked, letting out a giggle that put Eddie on the clouds.

He knew at some point you might go to that ice cream parlor, I mean, Hawkins isn't very big and it seemed like everyone was crazy to have something sweet and cold in their mouths thanks to the summer heat, but he hadn't prepared himself to have to serve you. He was already all flustered and he was praying with all his might that he wasn't blushing because of you.

"No, but I get paid an extra 50 cents an hour if I do," he joked and heard you laugh again. He hoped that was a good sign.

"I see, Eddie" you murmured and he thought he would die right there. Did you know his name? Did you really recognize him?

“Do you… do you know me?” he encouraged himself to say, struggling not to stutter.

"It's in your uniform," you explained, nodding at the small plaque on his chest. Of course that was it, stupid “But I've also seen you a few times at school. You're the one who stands on tables and yells things, right?"

"That's me," he laughed, slightly embarrassed that you had that memory of him. Most people noticed him because of how loud he was, but at least it was something.

You took advantage of the smile he gave you to look at him better: he was wearing that bright blue sailor uniform, but he had decided to put a chain on his belt just like the ones he wore on his pants and the scarf around his neck looked messier. You caught a glimpse of big black boots on his feet, his bare arms on which there were a few tattoos, and also the white company cap on his curly fluffy hair. It was obvious that you knew Eddie but had never paid much attention to him, and now that you did you were completely mesmerized by the sight.

“Do you have anything with cherry?” you asked in his direction. Eddie thought it was only natural that a girl like you would be a fan of cherry and he smiled to himself at that.

“Actually I have one right here that has cherry and mascarpone in it, it really does taste delicious,” he recited, hoping to be convincing enough. He had made sure to sample all the flavors when Steve and Robin weren't looking, just so he could recommend them to customers. "Would you like to try it?"

"Of course, why not?" you said while shrugging your shoulders and showing him a smile. Eddie deftly moved behind the counter and poured out a couple of scoops of ice cream in a cone, going out of his way to put an extra amount of everything just for you and also look cute in the process. In your opinion, that was working.

"A delicious ice cream on this hot day for the young woman" he exclaimed. He felt like an idiot as soon as the words left his lips, but hearing you laugh he relaxed noticeably.

"How much do I owe you?" you asked, reaching into your bag for a bill.

“Nothing,” he said immediately, which caused you to frown. “There's… huh… a promotion this week. Free ice cream for pretty girls”

Eddie thought, again, that maybe he was crossing a line of trust or that you would just be grossed out, but he again calmed down when he saw you smile.

"I guess you've said that to a lot of people, right?"

“You are the first, actually. You know, the company doesn't have enough to go around giving things away, so we have to be very selective” he lied to you. With each word that came out of his mouth, you could only smile more and more.

“I see,” you said, trying to keep your cool. He extended the ice cream in your direction and you took it, brushing for a second the boy's three-ringed hand "Then I'll have to come another day and see if that promotion is still on, don't you think?"

"We regularly change promotions every week, but I think you could apply for several of these" he responded excitedly. He didn't mind finishing his salary paying for your ice cream if it meant seeing you for a couple of minutes.

“That's great to hear that,” you exclaimed, knowing full well that he was just being flirty with you. You weren't going to take advantage of the poor boy, but it was nice to have an excuse to visit him. "I'll see you around then, I guess."

"Of course. See ya Y/N,” he murmured, pronouncing your name like romantic poetry and making you blush.

You turned to walk out, but as soon as you walked a few steps a part of you screamed at you to go back and find any excuse to keep in touch with the boy. He was handsome and kind, you didn't want to miss out on the chance to get to know him better.

"By the way…"

"Yes?" he answered quickly, leaning over the counter a bit to listen to what you had to say.

“Would you mind if I left you my phone number? so you can call me if you think I can take advantage of any of those promotions you said” you murmured, hoping you hadn't misunderstood the conversation. But you saw how his features lit up when he frantically nodded his head.

“Of course, that's a brilliant idea,” he replied, frantically searching for a piece of paper and a pen. When he found them, he extended them in your direction and watched excitedly as you wrote numbers, followed by your name "Then I'll call you if we have something that interests you"

“Or you can also call me if you just want to chat,” you said vaguely, again hoping not to go overboard with him, while you waved a hand in the air “Now I'm leaving. Nice to meet you, Eddie”

“Same here,” he murmured, almost hypnotized by you and clutching the napkin in disbelief.

You, his impossible love for years, had given him your number and told him he could call you whenever he wanted for no reason in particular. He felt like he was in heaven.

"What the hell was that?" asked Steve, who had been watching the scene from the beginning. Eddie had almost forgotten his presence.

“I'm sorry, man. But I couldn't stand watching you flirt with this particular girl."

"Well, I'm happy to report to you gentlemen that Eddie just got his first good point. Hooray!"

"Did she give you her number?" Steve asked curiously, trying to see the paper his friend of his was holding, but Eddie wouldn't let him.

He would guard that information as if it were life or death and of course he would withdraw from the game, because he knew that you were the only point he needed on the board.

TAG LIST: @sweetdayme4427 @smol-book-nerd @Ilikewomendealwithit @harringt8ns

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn

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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

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Just one single glimpse of relief

TW: OC death, death themes

“Hey,” Sydnee looked up at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, safe, and it stopped her tears for a moment. She can’t remember where she was or what she’d been doing. All she knew was that she was scared and upset and didn’t know what to do. It felt like she’d been crying forever when the voice appeared. “Hey there, it’s Phantom. Can I come closer?”

Sydnee gasped as the town hero, Phantom, approached her slowly. Syd was a bit of a nerd and she couldn’t get enough of those superhero movies. She always tuned in to Phantom’s fights on TV; he was as close as she’d get to a real life Superman or Captain Marvel. She’d never seen him up close before though. He was younger than he appeared on TV, not more than his early teens. Sydnee, almost 24, was hit by a wave of mortification over how they’d described the hunky, we-thought-he-was-older kid on Margarita Night. This day just got better and better, not that she remembered it.

“How are you doing?” Phantom asked quietly, floating near her but not getting too close. He was watching her warily but not unkindly. She saw how some folks treated him, he was probably worried she’d throw a shoe at him. “What’s your name?”

“Sydnee, with an extra e not a y. Uh Tanner, Sydnee Tanner,” she mumbled. Ugh why were words so hard. Her head felt fuzzy and very far away, she thinks she was going to start panicking again. What was she even so upset about? “I don’t know what’s going on. Where are we and what happened. I don’t- I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, floating a little closer. The soft glow he emitted brightened up the dark place they were in. Was she in a collapsed tunnel? What had she been doing here? She’d never been claustrophobic but the debris and rubble of the place seemed to close in on her. “Hey, hey, just look at me.” She turned and met his kind eyes, soft and easy. “We’ll walk through it together. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was late to work,” Syd said, the memory popping up before her. “I um work at the Donut Delights bakery in that strip mall next to the middle school. My cats had knocked over some of my houseplants in the night so I had to clean them up and was running behind. I open the store on Wednesdays - oh it’s Wednesday! - so I knew I’d be in trouble. But I made it, just barely. I was starting up the ovens when.” Syd furrowed her brow and took in the hero before her. The one who was almost never seen outside a fight. “There was a ghost attack, wasn’t there?”

“Welcome to Amity Park,” Phantom said grimly. “I’ve been here a couple times; the jalapeno bacon topped donuts are my favorite. My mom and sister buy them sometimes if they want to bribe me into doing something.”

“You weirdo, only crazy people eat that weird flavor,” Sydnee chuckled. “You have a family?”

“Of course, we all have a family out there somewhere. What about you?” He asked gently. There was something about the soft way he was talking to her, the way his eyes flickered around the dark like he was looking for something. He had news he didn’t want to tell her and she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not yet. Just a few more minutes of denial before she faced the revelation she couldn’t bear to touch yet.

“Yeah, mom and dad and two younger sibs. Folks divorced forever ago, I barely remember them actually being together. Mom is is living it up in Dubai working as a pastry chef in one of their fancy hotels. Dad’s an auto-mechanic down on Maple street, Duke’s Car Services. Pretty sure you got tossed through the window a year ago.”

“I’ve been tossed through many windows but I know the place you’re talking about. So a big family, any friends? Boyfriends? Girlfriends?”

“I have a boyfriend,” she continued on hastily, taking the distraction for what it was. “I like him, a lot and we’ve been dating since high school. Everyone says I should marry him and we’ve talked about it, casually, but I’ve never dated anyone else and wonder if I should see other people first. You know, test the waters before I settle down with my high school sweetheart like my folks did and look how they turned out.”

“Mhmm,” Phantom hummed nodding, encouraging her to continue.

“DeShawn is great though, he’s very supportive and sweet in his own kind of absentminded way. He’s got epilepsy real bad though, I have to drive him everywhere since he’s always at risk of a seizure. Annoying sometimes but its nice, you can learn a lot about a person from a conversation while you’re alone together.”

“Very true, I’m learning a lot now,” Phantom smiled. “What about your siblings?”

“I have a brother and a sister, Kennedy is finishing his sophomore year of college and Janelle will be a senior in high school. She was a surprise baby, one last attempt of my parents to reconcile before the big D. It didn’t help but I got a great sister out of it, she’s a real firecracker.”

“Janelle,” Phantom’s eyes lit up. “She’s the one always dying her hair. I see her in the hallways of Casper, she’s hard to miss. I think she draws too, she won an art award I think.”

“Yeah!” Sydnee said enthusiastically, she reached out and grabbed ahold of Phantom’s arm. It was cold but solid. It reminded her that she really couldn’t feel anything, nothing but him. “Yeah, I swear her hair is a new color every time I see her. It’s a dark purple now, it looks pretty good on her. She was a peachy orange for picture day last year. Mom called her up screaming when she saw the photos.”

“I thought it looked cool,” Phantom grinned, “not that I was there for picture day. Ghost attack, you know. My mom was upset with me too.” They laughed lightly for a minute before it gently petered off leaving them alone in the dark. Sydnee didn’t have any feeling in her toes, in any part of her. She felt light and disconnected and all over out of sorts. She was pretty sure she knew what had happened but she couldn’t face it yet. But talking to Phantom, it seemed a little easier.

“I remember the attack now,” Sydnee stated quietly. “It was a big ghost bear only it was the size of a pickup truck. It rammed into the store there was chaos and screaming. It was so loud, the screaming of the customers, the bear, building coming down on top of us...” her lips wobbled. “We’re still in the store, aren’t we? I haven’t wanted to turn around because... because I know my body is buried underneath the concrete back there.”

“Yeah,” Phantom breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get here in time. Most everyone in the area got out but you and a few others in the store got trapped under the rubble. Mrs. McDaniels who lived on Eustis street and was the first woman in her family to go to college plus Eddie Drake who came down from Chicago to check out the ghost stuff with their boyfriend and was a tattoo artist.”

“Did you talk to them too?” She questioned in surprise.

“Briefly, Mrs. McDaniels didn’t stay long, just long enough to tell me, and I quote, “stop wasting time on her dead ass and get to the others.” She already passed on. Eddie, they didn’t take it well. We talked for a while and I think they need a little more time to accept it, see their loved ones first. I warned them that the longer they delay death, the harder it is and the more you lose yourself. You’re the last, all the way in the back of the store. When you’re ready, I’m going to bring your body out.”

“Thank you,” she whispered before breaking out into hysterical laughter. “God I bet I’m a wreck, I think I put my shirt on inside out I was in such a rush this morning,” she sniffled. “What do I do now, as a ghost? I don’t have to, like, attack people, do I?”

“No,” Phantom sighed. “Most ghosts are just normal people, no one else but other ghosts will see you and you’re not going to be strong enough to interact with the real world for a long, long time. You can stick around a bit if you want, watch over your family but it’s like I told Eddie, you forget things pretty quick. Or you can move on, that part I can’t help you with but I’ve helped a lot of others go that route and I’m told it’s easy.”

“Easy, then why haven’t you?” She questioned angrily, the full weight of the situation crashing over her. She shoved him and he floated back passively. “I’m a freaking ghost and you’re here talking to me like you’re my therapist or something. Who’s gonna take DeShawn to his appointments? Or praise my sister’s creative messes? Or badger Ken into picking major? My life is over and you think you can float there and lecture me about it being easy to move on!”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Phantom soothed, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry Sydnee, I wish I could turn back the clock an hour, two hours, and prevent this from happening but I can’t. I’ve tried to mess with time and it doesn’t end well for anyone. I just want, I just want what’s best for you now. You can stay or you can go but I want you to make the decision that you feel most comfortable with. That’s all I can do for you.”

“I think I’d be sad,” she said, crying again, “being able to see everyone but not talk to them, to watch them cry over me. I don’t want to forget them either.” Phantom watched her, easily and earnestly. “What made you choose to stay? Why didn’t you go?”

“I’m a little complicated but I can tell you, when I’ve done all I need to here, I’m not hanging around a second longer than I have to. Being a ghost has it’s perks but it’s also, it’s being stuck in a place you longer fit, watching the world go on without you.”

“Okay,” Syd hiccupped. “Okay, yeah okay.”

“Okay,” Phantom nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, please don’t,” she grabbed his hands again. “Please I don’t, I know I died alone but I don’t want to do... this alone. Please stay, ugh, calling you Phantom is weird sorry.”

“I don’t know if it’s any less weird but you can call me Danny,” Phantom, Danny, laughed. It was an ordinary name for a superhero but it fit. There was a special thrill in knowing the ghost boy’s name but it’s not like she was going to be around to tell anyone. It was scary, to think of not existing but also sort of comforting, like a long nap with nothing pressing to get up for.

“Can you tell them that I love them, in my place? I know it’s a lot and I’m sure you’re super busy saving the town and everything-”

"It’s not a problem. I’m sure they know but I’ll be happy to pass on the message,” he smiled and it made him look so young. For a second she was struck by how sad it was that she was relying on a kid a decade younger than her for support. But he was here and he was kind and he was what she needed right now. Maybe one day, he’d have his own person talking him through this last step.

“Okay, Danny, thanks really. For talking, for staying. I’m scared but I, I think I’m ready.” She closed her eyes and squeezed his hands tightly. “Do you, will it hurt?”

“No,” he said, his voice warm despite his inherent chill. “No, Sydnee. No, the hurting is all over now. All you have left ahead of you is peace. Thank you for all that did, you’ll be missed.”

“I’ll see you on the other side. Goodbye.” The world faded to a pinprick, consumed by light. The last thing she saw before she went into it was a stranger’s smile.

XxX

“Here’s the last,” Phantom said solemnly, delicately setting a broken body he’d carried out of the dilapidated building and on the sidewalk next to the others. “This is Sydnee Tanner, she was the only employee in the store at the time. She has cats at home who will need taking care of. Her dad works at Duke’s Car Services along with siblings and a boyfriend.”

“Don’t know how you know all that but thanks for getting these folks out,” Sheriff Newton sighed. “Damn shame. Keep up the good work kid, we’ll save the next ones for sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some rather unhappy news to break to several people.”

“Do you mind if I tag along? I have a few messages I need to pass on.”

#danny phantom #me: makes up a random OC for the sake of the story #also me: oh my gawd sydney oh my goodd im so sorry baby Im sorry #the exciting continuation of Robin gets weirdly existential and peaceful about death #just the image of Danny saving the living then going on to talk to and help the dead he couldnt save move on #it fucking gets me okay?#he really is the bridge hero for the living and the dead alike #i love him so fucking much #well now Im emo for the rest of forever #title from Taylor Swifts epiphany #amazing a story title that DOESNT come from the 18-19th century death poem #i must be mad #Im reading it over again and its like way longer than it needs to be bc I kept adding more and more to sydnees story

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mintaka14 · 3 years ago

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Liquid Courage

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Marinette sighed and allowed herself to be dragged forward. Alya had an arm hooked through her elbow, and Juleka was blocking her retreat behind. She’d been assured that Rose and the other girls were meeting them wherever it was they were going. There really wasn’t any point resisting, although she baulked a little as they drew closer to the neon bright doorway of the club.

“Alya, it’s my birthday,” she whined.

“Exactly! And we’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Shouldn’t I get to do what I want?”

“Oh, you’ll want this.” Alya’s grin grew wider. “Our girl’s legal now, and we need to celebrate.”

Marinette sighed again. She’d wanted to spend her birthday hanging out on the Liberty, listening to music, eating cake, laughing with Juleka and Rose, and trying to work up the courage to finally ask Luka … but Luka had a gig tonight, and it had been ages since she and Alya had been able to catch up, so when Alya had insisted on a girls’ night out Marinette didn’t really have a reason to say no. Particularly not when Rose had been so enthusiastic, and Juleka had given her an unreadable look from under the black and purple curtain of her hair and suggested that it’d be worth her while.

The noise inside hit her like a wall. As her eyes adjusted to the strobing darkness, Marinette felt Juleka nudge her arm and she looked up.

“It’s live band tonight,” Juleka leaned in to mutter into her ear, and Marinette could barely make out what she was saying. “Told you you’d want to come.” Juleka nodded towards the stage, and over the heads of the crowded dance floor Marinette caught a glimpse of a familiar head of blue hair. Luka’s gig. She could feel the butterflies - the good kind - take flight inside her.

Luka was saying something to the drummer. Marinette watched as he frowned down at the guitar in his hands. He’d stripped off his hoodie, and the tattoos on his muscled shoulders stood out in sharp relief under the stagelights as he strummed a quick chord and made an adjustment.

Marinette let out the unsteady breath she’d been holding. Before she could say anything to Juleka, Alya tugged her arm and towed her past the bar to a table in the dark corner, and the cake that was waiting there. She could make out a handful of their former collège friends grinning at her, and Rose waving excitedly, with Kim and Alix holding up a banner in the background. Judging from the way the words Happy Birthday Marinette! were sparkling even in the darkness of the club, Rose had been at it with the glitter.

“Surprise!” The collective shout drowned out even the noise of the club, and Marinette couldn’t help smiling. She found herself passed from one set of arms to the next, exchanging hugs and exclamations with people she hadn’t seen in far too long, catching up on snippets of news and beaming until her face hurt. At some point, someone pressed a paper plate full of cake into her hands, and Alya gave her a broad and slightly smug grin.

“Having a good time, birthday girl?” Alya yelled. “Just wait, it’s going to get better!”

On her other side, Juleka muttered, “For the record, coming here to see the band was my idea. The rest of it was all Alya. Just remember that later.” She pushed a shot glass of vodka into Marinette’s hand. “You might need this.”

Before Marinette could respond to Juleka’s cryptic comment, Alix claimed her attention, asking about her plans for after lycèe, and then Nino wandered over to chat. She was very conscious that she only had half her attention on the conversations around her as she finished off her cake. Most of her focus was on the music. She leaned back in to Alya, who seemed to be checking her phone again, and half-shouted, “I’m going to go dance for a while.”

Alya’s eyes flicked up briefly from her screen. “I’ll come find you in a minute. I’m just waiting for… someone… to text me if they’re coming.”

Dancing wasn’t Marinette’s goal, though, as she edged her way through the crowd towards the stage, and she could tell the moment that Luka found her because his stare of intense concentration broke into a smile and a quick wink thrown at her. He turned away to say something to the lead singer under the cover of the drum solo.

When that song finished, Marinette was a little startled when Luka stepped up to the mic. He rarely sang lead.

“Hey there,” he told the club, and Marinette felt a shiver run through her at the gravelly sound of his voice echoing through the speakers. “Hope you’re all having fun tonight. This one’s for the birthday girl.”

His eyes found her again in the crowd and stayed on her as he played the opening chords, and the drum kicked in with a soft hiss of cymbals. Marinette didn’t recognise the intro, but when Luka stepped in a little closer and started singing about the amazing girl with endless horizons in her eyes she realised that it must be something new. One of his songs.

About her.

He seemed to be searching for something, his guitar echoing the melody in a rising question. Marinette could feel her pulse beating in time to his music, and when she pressed her hand to her heart, his mouth quirked up in a smile as if he’d found what he was looking for.

“Damn, the boy can sing,” Alya said in her ear over the music and the noise of the club. “Is that a new one?”

She’d put away her phone now, and if Marinette had been paying attention she might have wondered at Alya’s palpable air of satisfaction. Marinette ignored her, her eyes only on Luka.

When the final chords ended in silence and the club around her errupted in cheers and clapping, Marinette drew a shuddering breath.

Before she’d really had time to recover, Luka leaned in to the mic again.

“Happy Birthday, Marinette,” he told her over the speakers, and that smile of his widened into a smouldering grin that should have been illegal. “Okay, time to change the pace.”

He glanced back at the band, and started playing. Luka’s heel thumped a beat in time to the almost aggressive chords he struck out on his guitar. He swung back into the mic.

“Cut my heart about one, two times. Don’t need to question the reason I’m yours,” he growled, his eyes only on her and his smile growing broader as she stared up at him with wide eyes. They’d been circling around this for months, since he got back from touring (years, if she was honest), and when he leaned in a little and told her to sign me up for that full time, I’m yours it felt like they were the only people in the room.

She jumped a little when the drums crashed into the chorus, and was vaguely aware of Alya bouncing along to the music beside her, but she was far more interested in the man with the guitar and the gorgeous tattooed muscles on stage who kept his eyes on her and sounded like he meant it when he asked what he’d have to do to be hers.

Oh boy.

“Come on,” Alya shouted, hooking her hand through Marinette’s arm, and Marinette turned dazed eyes on her as the applause exploded around them and drowned out everything else. She glanced back at the stage as Alya towed her away through the crowd. Her eyes met Luka’s.

Tonight, no more hesitating. He’d already asked her, in his own way, if she only had the courage to speak up. She could do this.

“Here.” Alya handed her another shot glass full of vodka. “A litle bit of liquid courage to help you confess.”

It couldn’t hurt, Marinette decided, and she threw down the contents, shuddering at the taste.

Luka never sang. He always let his instruments speak for him, but he had sung for her. And damn, his voice could bring her undone when he chose to use it. She put the glass down, feeling the warmth run through her, and Alya put her hands on Marinette’s shoulders.

“Okay, birthday girl. You’re eighteen now, you’re a strong, confident woman, and you can totally tell a guy you love him without freaking out. Time for your birthday wish. What do you want more than anything?”

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, and saw a slow grin and soft ocean blue eyes. She felt Alya spin her around, and the movement threw her off balance. She opened her eyes again, searching for a glimpse of Luka. He was laughing at something that the bassist was saying, and settling his guitar back on its stand. When he reached up to rake sweaty blue hair back from his face, Marinette felt dizzy all over again.

She reached for her shot glass, which someone had refilled, and knocked it back. Right.

“Marinette,” Alya was saying slyly. “Look who’s here!”

There was a blond head in front of her, blocking her view of the stage as she staggered. Adrien caught her with one hand on her arm, and his green eyes were watching her in fond concern as she righted herself.

“Oh, hi Adrien,” Marinette said brightly. “I’m so glad you could make it. We should catch up some time.”

Without waiting for a response, she wove around him and made her purposeful way towards the stage. She could do this. She could do this. She felt someone catch at her arm, and she thought it was Alya, but she shrugged her off and kept scanning the crowd.

She couldn’t see Luka anywhere, and she turned in a giddy circle trying to find him.

She’d never had much luck with confessions, but this was Luka. This was months and years of songs that sounded like her, and clothing that was so very him, and little private jokes, and long video chats from half a world away. This was eyes meeting and sharing a silent moment in the middle of a crowd, and curling up on his bed for quiet, late night conversations that skirted awfully close to declarations of love. This was Luka stepping up to sing his heart to her. He’d made it as easy as it could possibly be for her, and it was time for her to meet him halfway. The vodka left a warm prickle under her skin that blurred the edges of her nerves.

The stage was empty now, and Alya caught up with her as she ducked around another set of flailing limbs. She was saying something, but Marinette couldn’t hear her over the electronic beat of the dance mix that had started. Marinette tried to peer into the staff area behind the stage. There was no sign of Luka.

“Looking for someone?” a familiar, amused voice said close behind her, and Marinette spun around too fast. Luka caught her as she crashed into him and clutched at his tshirt. She looked up into deep blue eyes.

“Hi,” she said a little breathlessly. “I love you.”

And in the end, it really was that easy to say. Luka’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t let her go.

“Girl, what do you think you’re doing?” Alya was hissing in her ear. “Adrien came especially to see you!”

But Marinette had other things to think about.

“I loved my birthday songs,” she told Luka, who still had his arms around her and a dazed expression on his face. “Did you mean it?”

As he leaned down to her, his forehead brushing hers, his smile turned a little wry. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough that I don’t know what I’m doing,” she insisted.

“Enough that you’re not thinking straight,” Alya interrupted forcefully. “Marinette –“

“Enough that it might be time to call it a night,” Luka suggested, levelling a cool look at Alya. Marinette caught the swift, unreadable glance he flicked at the blond model talking to Nino on the other side of the club, and she pressed deeper into Luka’s embrace.

And clearly, Marinette found, she’d had at least enough alcohol to shut down her usual filters, and blunt the overthinking. It was her birthday, dammit, and she wanted birthday kisses.

“That sounds like a good idea,” she said brightly. She turned in Luka’s arms to beam at Alya and throw her own arms around her friend. “It’s been an amazing party,” she told her blithely over the noise of the club. “Thank you so much for organising this tonight, Als. I think I need to head home now. Raincheck?”

Alya’s eyes were narrowing at her, but Marinette was already turning back to Luka.

“Walk me home?” she asked him.

He took the hand she held out to him, and followed her like he always did.

“Marinette –“ Alya was saying, but Marinette was already towing Luka through the crowd, dispensing hugs and thank yous and promises to catch up again soon to all her friends on the way. Then finally Marinette was out of the overheated club, and it was just her and Luka.

In the cool night air, the fuzz of too much noise and distracting lighting and vodka was clearing fast, and she glanced up at Luka.

He sighed. “Come on, birthday girl, let’s get you home.”

“I can’t go home,” she said, and there may have been a trace of smugness in her voice, because Luka gave her a startled look. “I was supposed to stay at Alya’s place tonight. You don’t want to rat me out to my parents, do you?”

“You couldn’t have mentioned that before we left the club?”

“I could have, but then I wouldn’t be here with you,” she pointed out. Her sense of mild triumph faded into sudden worry. “Don’t you want to take me home with you? Oh god, I just forced myself on you.”

“No! Marinette, that’s not…” He raked his hair back with one hand, and gave her a rueful look. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me here. You’re drunk, and this isn’t a conversation we should be having until you’re sane and sober.”

“I had three shots.” She held up three fingers, just in case there was any confusion. “I’ve been trying to have this conversation sane and sober for a while now.”

“You’re not even walking straight,” Luka sighed.

“I can still kiss straight, though,” she offered, and lifted up on her toes with her face turned hopefully towards him.

It felt like an unpleasant jolt when his hands caught gently at her shoulders and set her back at arm’s length. Marinette blinked up at him, trying to recover her balance.

“Did I… that song, did I misread it?” she asked a little anxiously, and Luka gave a strained laugh.

“No.”

“Then… why won’t you kiss me?”

He sighed, and took her hand. “Marinette, I’ve been stupid in love with you since you were fourteen. Every year, you get more amazing, and every day I fall a little harder, but here’s the thing – if you kiss me, I don’t want it to be something you did while you were drunk.”

“You don’t believe me?”

His gaze shifted off to the side, and his mouth turned a little wry. “Tell me again tomorrow.”

Oh Luka… She stared down at their linked hands, and there was a moment of silence between them, then Marinette looked up.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Luka’s mouth quirked up in a quizzical smile.

“Okay, fine, I’m not going kiss you tonight, even though I’ve been in love with you for ages and three shots is not why I want to… anyway, okay. And tomorrow morning, we’re going to talk about it.”

Maybe she had been a little more affected by the vodka than she’d thought, because it felt so nice when they reached the Liberty and she fell into Luka’s bed, and felt him tuck his quilt in around her. She buried her face in his pillow and the familiar smell of his shampoo with that faint tang of metal and water and hot sun.

When he wandered out of the room and came back with a cushion and the ratty old blanket from the living room couch, she mustered enough energy to prop herself on her elbow and frown at him as he eased himself down to the floor beside his bed.

“You’re not planning on sleeping on the floor tonight, are you?” she asked, and Luka gave a nonchalant shrug.

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last,” he told her. “Go to sleep, Melody.”

She gave a huff, and dropped back down into his pillow, too tired to put up a proper argument over misguided chivalry.

“This is another thing we’re going to talk about in the morning,” she muttered darkly. He reached up to turn out the lamp on his desk, and in the soft darkness Marinette fell asleep to the sound of his deep, rhythmic breathing, until the noise of Juleka returning home disturbed her in the morning.

“So this is where you ended up,” Juleka muttered drily, and stepped over Luka, still asleep on the floor in his pile of blankets. “I thought Alya said my idiot brother was going to take you home. I’m pretty sure she thought it was your home, not his.”

“We had stuff to talk about,” Marinette whispered defensively, and Juleka’s eyebrow rose.

“Uhuh,” she said sceptically. “Talk. I don’t want to know.”

She turned away to sling her bag down behind her bed.

“For the record,” she added. “I did try to talk Alya out of the whole Adrien thing last night. It’s not like anyone ever listens to me.”

“I know,” Marinette sighed. “I love Alya, but there are only so many times I can tell her that I’m not interested in Adrien, and I haven’t been for a long time now. I thought that she’d accepted that I was over that whole drama, but clearly, she just thought I was in denial or something.”

“Clearly.” Juleka’s glance fell on Marinette’s phone, sitting on Luka’s desk nearby. “Speaking of Alya, you’re going to have a lot of messages when you turn that on again. She’s been trying to reach you since you and Luka took off last night.”

Marinette’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, God,” she groaned.

“The look on her face when you threw yourself at Luka last night and dragged him out of the club was awesome, by the way.” The corners of Juleka’s mouth twitched up in a smirk. “Thank you for that.”

“Jules –“

“What? You should have heard her when I tried to suggest that it’d been almost four years now and maybe you’d moved on from a dumb crush you had when you were fourteen.” She put her hands on her hips and levelled a look at Marinette in an uncanny imitation of their friend. “No offense, Juleka, but I think I know my girl better than you. Yeah, like I’m not the one who’s been watching you making googoo eyes at my brother since he came back to Paris. You never said anything to her?”

“Up until he got back, there wasn’t really a whole lot to talk about,” Marinette said defensively, and Juleka snorted.

“Except all the phone bills you two have been racking up while he was on tour.” Juleka flopped onto her bed. “I’m so tired. I’ve been dealing with Alya all night at that sleepover you bailed on. Seriously, I know we’ve fallen out of touch with her a bit since we started lycèe, but how on earth did she miss that you’re completely stupid for Luka?”

“Luka doesn’t seem to have figured it out yet,” Marinette muttered, rolling over and stretching for her phone on the desk. She understood why he’d done it, but she was still feeling a little hurt that he hadn’t kissed her last night.

“I think he’s starting to get the idea,” said a masculine voice from the floor below her. Marinette looked down into Luka’s blue eyes and sleepy smile, shrieked, and lost her balance. The wind was knocked out of Luka with a muffled sound as she landed on him. His arms reflexively closed around her.

“ ‘Morning, beautiful,” he said with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“How much of that did you hear?”

His smile grew wider. “That depends. How much of it did you want me to hear?”

She probably should get up, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to let her go, and Marinette was enjoying the feeling of being tangled up in Luka’s arms and legs, even if her face was burning at the unexpected proximity.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked softly.

“Really good,” she said dazedly, and nuzzled her face into his t-shirt. “Warm.”

“I meant, do you need any aspirin or anything?”

Marinette huffed, and felt him shift under her. “I told you, I only had three shots. I’m fine.”

“You two are disgusting,” Juleka complained, just as her phone went off and she gave the call notification an annoyed look. “I’m still here, you know, having to watch all this.”

“Then go away,” Luka mumbled into Marinette’s hair.

Juleka stomped across the room, muttering under her breath, and paused in the doorway.

“Oh, and turn your damn phone on,” Juleka said flatly. “She’s calling me now, and I draw the line at dealing with Alya’s little meltdown for you. And I expect to be the Best Woman at your wedding, you sappy lamebrains,” she added without any change of expression.

The door closed behind her, and Marinette reached for her phone again, the corners of her mouth lifting irrepressibly at Luka’s sudden intake of breath when she stretched against him. The moment that she turned it on, the screen flooded with layer on layer of notifications and messages, each one more incensed than the last, and before she could even open the first one the phone buzzed in her hand, startling her.

“What the hell, Marinette??” Alya’s voice shrieked at her. “What was that all about last night? Do you have any idea how many favours I had to call in to get Adrien there last night?!”

“And it was really nice to see him,” Marinette said soothingly.

She ignored Luka’s smothered laugh, and focused on Alya’s disgruntled huff.

“Not that you’d know,” Alya grumbled on the other end of the line. “You barely said hello before you took off like that with Luka. What was that all about? I thought he was overseas with Jagged or something.”

“Yeah… he came back,” Marinette said brightly.

“So I gathered. So why didn’t you tell me you were dating Luka?”

Marinette felt a twinge of guilt at the note of hurt in Alya’s voice, but she’d honestly tried to tell Alya that things had changed. She’d been trying to tell her for years.

“Because I’m not yet,” she pouted. Luka was laughing harder now, and she could feel his shoulders shaking. She glared down at him, but that didn’t seem to stop him. “He wouldn’t kiss me last night.”

“Vodka shots,” he mouthed at her.

“If it’s any consolation, your pep talk really helped,” she offered. “I did tell him I loved him, even if he didn’t believe me.”

The way that Luka’s arms tightened around her at that was very distracting.

“You owe me details, girl,” Alya was saying, and it sounded more like a threat than a promise. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“… Als, I’m not at home.”

The shriek Alya emitted should have cracked the phone.

“Ow!” Luka complained from underneath Marinette. “Could you dial it down, Alya?”

Alya’s second shriek was even louder. “Is he there right now?? Marinette!”

“It’s not what you think.”

“The hell it isn’t! Girl, you will call me later and tell me everything.”

“Almost everything,” Marinette promised, as Luka’s eyebrow rose. “Love you, Als. Later.”

She ended the call and put aside her phone. With Luka’s arms around her, and given the way he was looking at her, she was pretty sure she was going to get her kisses, finally. No courage necessary.

“So, about that talk,” Marinette said, propping her chin on his chest and looking up at him. “No shots, no schemes, I’m completely of sound mind.”

The gorgeous jerk grinned at that.

“As much as you ever are,” he said fondly.

“So do you believe me now when I say I adore you with all my heart and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life? Or do I have to persuade you?”

“I’m convinced,” he told her, and look in his eyes sent a flutter of entirely delicious nerves through her. “But you’re welcome to persuade me if you want to. I think I’d enjoy that.”

“Then can I kiss you now?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he breathed, and his mouth was on hers before she could even respond.

#endgame lukanette #pro lukamari #liquid courage #they're idiots your honor #alcohol consumption #alya salt #oblivious alya

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moonbeambucky · 4 years ago

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 20)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 7235 Warnings: fluff, smut, angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I’m patiently waiting for some screaming! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 19 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Making your way downstairs was a little awkward and you barely made eye contact with Bucky. Winnie was waiting outside by the idling car, laughing at the person who had their back to you. They were fairly tall in a pewter suit and had short brown hair that was closely shaved in the back. Winnie nudged her chin and the person turned around, a smile spreading across their unfamiliar and yet completely recognizable face.

They shared the same deep blue eyes and dimple on their chin as Bucky and you knew this had to be Rebecca. Their hair was longer in the front, falling just beside their eyes, sparkling with gold and plum shadow.

“Bex!” Bucky exclaimed, smiling just as widely to see his sibling, wrapping them in a big hug.

“You cut your hair!” Rebecca looked at it approvingly. “Tryin’ to copy me I see,” they joked.

You smiled watching them together, forgetting any awkward feelings between yourself and Bucky; they were now solely reserved for introductions with Rebecca whose effortlessly cool vibe had you on edge for some reason.

Bucky pulled away from the hug, placing his hand behind you, almost touching the bare skin of your back before he realized that might be too intimate.

“Bex this is Y/N,” he introduced with a proud smile you couldn’t see.

“So nice to meet you,” you said, not expecting the hug they gave you.

Winnie stepped in the moment Rebecca stepped back to give you a hug of her own. She turned to check in with George who stayed in the car listening to a classic rock radio station.

“Okay let’s not be late,” she chirped, pointing at the watch not present on her wrist. “James, you sit in the front. We’ll all squeeze in the back.”

Rebecca got in first, sliding across the black leather seats to take the smaller spot in the middle. It wasn’t crowded with the three of you sitting together but Winnie made a good call not letting Bucky’s bulkier frame encroach on you or Rebecca had he been seated back there.

You saw swirls of ink on Rebecca’s wrist as they shifted to pull out their phone, which prompted them to roll up their sleeves, showing off part of the tattoos that cover their arm.

“It’s not done yet,” they said, revealing a bare spot on their forearm beside a large watercolor macaw tattoo.

Bucky’s head turned back ever so slightly, his eyes trying to see as much as he could without being so obvious as he watched you and Rebecca interact. He knows why he’s so nervous, his family hasn’t met anyone in his life since Olivia.

He scoffed internally when he thought about it. He was a kid, a kid with a broken heart that should have gotten over it a long time ago. But had things been different maybe Bucky would have never met you. He smiled to himself, thankful for his choices– no matter how childish, because they led him here.

Softly colored roses in peach and pale pinks were draped along the wooden archway, the gossamer fabric wrapped around the posts fluttered delicately with the wind. A golden sunset on the water served as the backdrop for an even more beautiful ceremony, celebrating the love of two people that never expected to find it.

Bucky looked over to catch a glimpse of the fading sun sparkling in your eyes. The soft sigh he exhaled was masked by the sound of cheers that rang out amongst the crowd as the newlyweds kissed.

The crowd dispersed onto the adjacent patio where lanterns hung from large sturdy trees, white pillar candles flickering inside. Soft pink fabric was draped over the tables, some small with golden framed chairs surrounding them, others free standing high tops that were scattered around beside the neatly trimmed lawn. Each had a handful of tealight candles gently glowing on top.

You followed Bucky and his family to the table where the hors d'oeuvres were served, taking the plate he handed you and picking up a few things. The display at the end of the table made you burst out with laughter. Among the fresh fruit and crudité were oversized plastic ants, each with a piece of fruit on their backs arranged in a line as if they were walking away with them.

Bucky shrugged. “It’s a thing with Hope’s family… I never really asked,” he chuckled, picking up a few strawberries from the platter behind the fake ants.

George pulled a chair from another table so you could all sit together. Placing his plate down he asked Winnie if she wanted a glass wine and she nodded, confident in knowing George knew what her favorite was.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Bucky asked. He knew what you drank when everyone went out together but he didn’t want to assume, waiting for you to respond before he and Rebecca accompanied their father to the bar.

Winnie didn’t hesitate to talk once they’d left, specifically about how happy she was Bucky was able to bring you. “He caused such a fuss, begging Scott and Hope to give him a last minute plus one.”

At that moment you wished you had a drink to bring to your lips, covering up the way her revelation had left you slack jawed. According to Bucky you were invited because he responded for two, making it seem as if you were doing him a huge favor by coming but the more Winnie spoke you realized your invitation was never to fill a seat; he was begging and pleading to bring a guest, to bring you.

“I can tell you’re special Y/N. I’ve never seen James this way with anyone in a long, long time.”

You couldn’t speak if you tried, smiling back at Winnie as your mind raced to free your heart from the protective cage it was locked away in. For once they were on the same page, heart and mind, desperate to run together right to Bucky.

When he returned to the table you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, maintaining a soft smile as your heart fluttered like a hummingbird inside your chest, desperate to break free and scream out your feelings from the top of your lungs.

You thanked him for the drink he brought back, letting your fingers linger on his hand for a beat longer than they should have, keeping your gaze locked with his before slowly turning towards Rebecca to answer the question they asked. Bucky’s cheeks were a blooming pink that practically matched the decor, his skin prickling with the memory of your touch.

Time passed quickly over conversation along with extended family members coming over to say hello. You didn’t miss the way Bucky smiled widely as he introduced you, simply as Y/N but wishing his lips had spoken the words written on your heart and called you his.

The grand doors of the ballroom opened when it was time for the reception. Bucky offered his arm which you took as he led you inside. Large chandeliers hung from the intricately detailed ceiling. Tall vases served as the centerpiece on the tables, each filled with a large arrangement of similar colored roses from the archway.

Pulling out the chair for you to be seated, Bucky happened to catch the approving smile on his father’s face, looking away to avoid an embarrassing flush to his cheeks if he held the knowing look any longer. He turned his gaze towards you and the beautiful smile that lit up your whole face as you and Rebecca were continuing your conversation from before.

Bucky sighed, feeling his heart swell even more as he realized he didn’t have to ask what his family thought about you, each of them unable to hold back their own smiles. They like you as much as he does, they want you to be with him as much as he does and if they knew how much of an idiot he’s been, denying his feelings for so long they would definitely cause a scene. But Bucky knows it won’t be long before he finally tells you.

So many scenarios went through his mind; inviting you to dinner next weekend and planning a whole speech, bursting through your door tomorrow night spilling out all the words in his heart in a mess of emotions, kiss you tonight, tomorrow, any day, every day! It doesn’t matter how, he just wants you to know.

His thoughts were interrupted by Scott and Hope making their entrance and sharing their first dance in front of everyone. Bucky reined in his thoughts that imagined the two of you in their place, a concept he never gave much attention to before believing it wasn’t for him, but with you by his side…

“Oh how sweet!” your voice beamed, pulling Bucky back to reality.

Cassie had run out onto the dance floor, swaying side to side with Hope and her father holding their hands. Scott lifted her into his arms, slinging her on his hip as Hope moved close enough for both of them to plant a kiss on both of her cheeks at the same time.

The photographer captured the moment along with so many more memories as the night went on especially when Scott’s best man Luis gave a very entertaining (and somewhat never ending) toast. You and Rebecca ran into him at the bar, unable to get much of a word in as Luis enthusiastically rambled on about how happy he is to be at Scott’s wedding.

“When I first met Scotty he was in a bed place, and I’m not talking about cell block D. His wife had just filed for divorce. And I was like, ‘Damn homie, she dumped you while you were in lock up?’ And he was like ‘Yeah I know. I thought I was gonna be with her forever but now I’m all alone!’ And I was like, ‘Damn homie, you gotta chin up. ‘Cause you’ll find a new partner.’ And he did! And it all started when I was at a wine tasting with my cousin Ernesto…”

You were focused on Luis’ very detailed story unaware of Bucky’s eyes on you from across the room. He was startled by Scott, squeezing his shoulders from behind and Bucky turned around to give his cousin a congratulatory hug.

“You haven’t told her yet, huh?” Scott said, his lips pulling into a crooked smile. Bucky’s brows knit together confused. “I see the way you look at her.”

Bucky sighed, looking at Scott without replying. There was nothing to say; he was caught staring at you from the far side of the room because he was too much of a coward to tell you how he felt.

“Hey I know you might be scared. After divorcing Maggie I was terrified, thought I’d never be able to put myself out there again and then I found Hope.”

Bucky sees the smile crinkling your eyes, hears your laughter that’s sweeter than music. “You’re right Scott, I have been scared… but I’m not anymore.” A content smile spreads across his face.

There’s a calm sense of relief that washes over Bucky as he knows with certainty that there is nothing he’s ever wanted more in his life. The universe is with him, ending the fast paced song that matched the beat of his heart to something slow and romantic.

Bucky strides across the hallway like he’s floating on a cloud until he reaches you. The words flow like smooth honey as he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

His hand is soft against yours, your whole body giddy with delight as he guides you to the dance floor. Time moves in slow motion, the world around you fading away as Bucky takes your hand in his, moving his other to the small of your back.

It was intimate, close and exactly how you wanted it to be. You let out a soft sigh as you relaxed into his embrace, letting your free arm glide up the fabric of his suit, curving it over his shoulder and looking deeply into his eyes. His pupils were blown with desire as Bucky stared back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching with an ever so slight smile.

Words were not spoken as you swayed together with the music but you both felt a change; like breathing foreign air, something felt different. You and Bucky danced in a world of your own, the past a distant memory that held your fears behind, finally allowing your heart to soar freely.

A smile pulled at your lips, one that felt brighter than the sun as you truly let go of everything that was holding you back. You moved closer, letting yourself drown in Bucky’s intoxicating scent, like cinnamon toasting over a warm fire as you nuzzled your nose into his neck.

He squeezed you tighter, his heart doing backflips in his chest, unable to fathom that this was actually happening. His nose grazes along the shell of your ear and you hear the soft inhalation of breath coming from his parted lips. A wave of tingles ran down your spine, shocking yourself into remembering you and Bucky were not alone but very much in the middle of a public setting surrounded by his family.

You pulled back to his surprise but the smile that would never cease to leave your face calmed his nerves.

“Follow me,” you purred, not letting go of Bucky’s hand as you led him outside.

A few people were scattered outside on the patio, some gathered around the high top tables that still remained, enjoying their drinks over conversation. You smiled over your shoulder back at Bucky, pulling him further away until you reached the area where the ceremony took place. The chairs had been cleared but the archway remained, the fabric wrapped around it still blowing in the wind.

You stopped at the edge of the railing, looking out onto the water as moonlight danced on the gentle waves. Goosebumps prickled all over your skin but you couldn’t be sure if it was from the breeze or Bucky standing close beside you.

The beating of your heart grew faster and you wondered if he could hear the drumming through your chest. A lump was caught in your throat as you felt Bucky’s hand cover yours on the railing. You turned your head to face him, slowly lifting your eyes from his perfect lips, the sight of them made you lick your own, meeting his eyes, the darkness reflecting a moonlit sparkle.

The memory of your New Years kiss made you shiver, letting a shaky breath out as you turned your body to face him, letting your hands wrap around his neck, his hands resting on your waist, closing the distance between you.

It wasn’t New Years, it wasn’t even the Fourth of July but you felt fireworks erupting in your stomach as you kissed, his soft lips massaging yours with a passionate fervor that grew by the second. You needed more, parting your lips for his skillful tongue to slip past them, deepening the kiss and loving the way he moaned as your hand scratched through his hair.

Distant laughter reminded you once again that you were still not alone but in the moment you really wanted to be. When the need for air became too great you pulled away.

“I missed that,” you admitted through a smile, catching your breath.

Bucky caressed your cheek gently with his fingers, his whole face lighting up in delight. “Would you believe me if I said the same?”

“Maybe,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck again.

“Would you believe me if I told you how I can’t get you off my mind? That ever since you came into my life I’ve been fighting the feelings I’ve had for you?” You nodded softly at his admission believing every word, knowing that what you’ve been feeling wasn’t just in your imagination, that things between you and Bucky had changed and finally the truth was out.

“I’m tired of fighting them,” he said, “I– ” You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, sweetly stealing a soft kiss as you hummed against him.

Your smiles could not be contained, staring deeply into each other’s eyes under the silver glow of the moonlight. You would have stayed that way for longer had you not heard the echo of a voice coming from inside. Bucky peeked over your shoulder to see other people heading back in for the cake cutting.

With your fingers laced together you went back inside, taking your seats and ignoring the smirk Rebecca and Winnie had on their faces after noticing your lipstick was no longer existent, not on your lips at least. Luckily their eyes were focused on the newlyweds and not on Bucky’s hand which casually found its way to your thigh, his thumb gently running back and forth over the smooth material of your dress.

Scott dabbed a bit of frosting on the tip of Hope’s nose as she smushed a larger piece on his face, laughing and happily kissing his messy mouth to a round of cheers. The night continued with more dancing and Bucky’s family leaving just after the garter and bouquet toss.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Winnie said, having added you as a friend on Facebook. “George barbecues a lot over the summer so I hope to see you and James more often.” She wrapped you in a strong embrace, followed by Rebecca who had given you their Instagram, hoping to keep in touch as well.

George said goodbye with a friendly hug, reiterating your invitation. “James may be the musician but I’m the maestro of the barbecue.”

Bucky let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his embarrassment making you chuckle even more at his dad’s joke. Opening their arms to each other they hugged, and Bucky said goodbye to everyone.

“Get home safe!” Bucky called out as they walked down the hall.

You and Bucky stayed for a little while longer before saying goodnight to Hope, Scott and a few others, waiting outside of the main entrance for your Uber to arrive. Your lower lip trembled from the cold but less than a moment later you felt the weight of Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek that added to the warmth you felt.

The Uber arrived shortly and once you were settled inside you leaned your head against Bucky’s shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, rubbing your own through his jacket as your hand caressed his for the duration of the ride back to the hotel.

Bucky helped you out of the car, his jacket slipping off your shoulders as you stood up. You didn’t need it anymore, feeling warmth spread through your body from his touch. The walk to the elevator was short and quiet, both of you holding back awkward smiles and smitten feelings.

When the doors opened to your floor you felt your heart pounding louder with every step that brought you closer to the hotel room. Bucky swiped the card into the door, holding it open for you as it unlocked. The beating amplified when you heard the door shut and Bucky turning the locks. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide anymore, not with both of your feelings out there.

He laid his jacket over the chair as you set your clutch to the side. His steps were hesitant, full of tension as he got closer to you, finally finding the courage to take your hands in his. Up close you could see the blush that brightened his cheeks, smiling at the way he licked his lips, sucking his bottom one into his mouth and nervously chewing on it.

You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling the beginnings of stubble scratch at your palm. Lifting his gaze to yours you locked eyes with Bucky, seeing the retreat of blue as they grew darker the longer you stared at each other. Exhaling a shaky breath you moved your hand to the nape of his neck bringing him closer as you pressed your lips against his.

With that touch the dam of restraint broke and Bucky was kissing you back, his hands cupping the side of your face, your jaw, anywhere and everywhere as he deepened the kiss. Your hands were roaming his body, grazing across the strong muscles of his back and down his sides again as you held on to his waist.

Gulps of breath were quick as the need to make out was greater than oxygen, but when you did stop to fill your lungs with air you smiled against each other, foreheads and noses touching before he would capture your lips again, sucking softly on your bottom lip. You hummed against him, parting your lips for his tongue to slip inside and caress yours.

You gasped when the back of your knees unexpectedly hit the edge of the mattress, quickly losing your balance and pulling Bucky down with you. He braced himself with one arm above you, smiling at the way your face lit up beautifully with laughter. Bucky waited for you to center your gaze on him again before he brought his lips back to yours. His kiss was soft and slow, passionate and needy, wanting to prolong every second with you and hoping this wasn’t a dream. If it was he never wanted to wake up, preferring to spend the rest of his existence here with you in this perfect world.

His mouth explored your body, running his tongue down your skin until you gasped when he discovered that sensitive spot where your collarbone and neck met. Bucky smirked as you writhed against him, letting a sultry moan fall from your lips as he sucked your skin gently.

The sound alone made him hard and your hips lifting against his didn’t help. Bucky pulled away breathless, knowing he had to stop despite wanting this to never end.

“I can’t, we…” He swallowed dryly, bringing one hand to cup the soft skin of your cheek. “I don’t have protection.”

Not bringing condoms on a weekend that practically guaranteed sex did not sound like the man you first knew who was banging his way through every woman in Manhattan, but Bucky hasn’t been that man in a long time. Somehow over the course of your friendship he’s grown, changed into the person that admitted to what even he thought was impossible, having feelings and wanting more than just sex.

Bucky crawled back off of you, digging his knees into the mattress as he blew out harsh breaths to try and handle his situation accordingly. A smile spread slowly across your face as you pushed yourself up from the bed, quickly moving out of the way as Bucky swung his legs over the side as you remembered what Wanda thankfully snuck into your bag.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed, Bucky didn’t pay much attention to what you were doing, not lifting his head until he saw you standing in front of him with something in your hand.

“I have them,” you said firmly, opening your palm to reveal the package of condoms, the foil reflecting off the light. Your chest heaved with anticipation until Bucky’s eyes met yours.

The shock on his face was clear, never expecting any of this to happen. His back stiffened cautiously as he asked with trepidation, “Are you sure? We don’t have to– ”

“I know. I want to.”

Simple words, simple truths.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth pulled into a smile as you stepped in between his legs, leaning in to tease your lips against his but not give in to what he wanted. Instead you pushed on his chest to make him lay flat on the mattress, lifting the fabric of your dress you got on the bed to straddle him.

Bucky swallowed a dry gulp, his hands skimming first up your thighs and then your waist as you leaned forward to hover over him again. This time he doesn’t let you tease him. He took your lips feverishly, letting your tongues dance in a passionate tango. Your hips begin to move, grinding against his arousal and he whimpers against your mouth.

He gets the urge to tear off your clothes and fuck you hard into the mattress and if you were anyone else he would have, but Bucky doesn’t want this to be about sex. He wants to do something he hasn’t done in a very long time, connect with someone physically and emotionally at once.

Soft hands cup your cheeks, holding your face above him as Bucky stares deeply past your eyes and into your heart. A tender smile pulls at his mouth, one that makes you slow down and smile back at him, letting out soft exhalations that try to match the beat of his.

He sets the tempo, lifting his head to press his lips gently against yours, his hand running up and down your back. Cradled in his arms, Bucky shifted so that you were both lying side by side, his lips never leaving yours, swallowing every moan that fell from your heavenly mouth.

Your hands roamed his body; caressing the back of his head as you deepened the kiss with your tongue, feeling solid muscle beneath his shirt as you rubbed down his chest. His hands brushed against your thigh, over the globes of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You can’t help the moan that escapes as a dull ache radiates from your core.

Instinctively, your hips move against him craving more friction as your hands make quick work of his belt. His hand skimmed up your side, cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipple.

The breath stilled in your throat like the measure of time around you, slowing down enough so you could see every touch, feel the brush of his lips; each one the scratch of a pen on a music sheet, creating a song one note at a time.

Open mouth kisses trailed down your skin leaving you breathless as his hands pulled down the fluttering sleeves of your dress. Unclasping the buttons of his shirt, you peeled it off his body as he reached around to tug down your zipper, letting the fabric fall off you. You were drawn to each other’s bodies, warm mouths on warm skin that grew hotter by the moment.

A steady cadence of moans falls from your lips as Bucky worships you with his mouth. It’s better than anything you imagined on those nights when headphones blocked out the primal sounds of pleasure coming from next door. The pitch of your cries reaches new heights as he sends you over the edge, hands grabbing at his hair from between your thighs to brace yourself.

Blue eyes tainted dark with lust peek open to watch your writhe in ecstasy as you come undone. Bucky stays with you through it, his hands laced with yours as your body comes down from blissful heaven. He kisses his way up your body pulling soft moans and gasps from you along the way until he found your lips again; aching, hungry, desperate for his tongue.

You ease him to his back, kissing down Bucky’s neck until you reach the band of his briefs. Your eyes widen at the outline of his arousal, he lifts his hips to help you slide them off and your legs clench together at the sight of his thick cock springing up and slapping his stomach. He quivered with anticipation as you take him in your hands, a low groan rumbling in his throat as he watches himself disappear into your warm mouth.

Euphoric pleasure washes over Bucky as you hum around him, his moans becoming a sweet melody to your ear. Before it’s too much he pulls you off of him, grabbing your face in a plea for your lips against his. He skims his hands along the bed searching for the condom, having to get up to find it as you settle onto your back. The wrapper is torn open, the condom sliding down on his length.

Bucky takes a moment to look at you, to really look at you in a way he’s never taken the time before when he’s been with someone. Your smile lights up his heart and he presses his lips against yours softly. You wonder if he’s waiting for a sign, staring up at his smile stretched out so far he can hardly contain it. With a roll of your hips you rock against him and after losing himself in your eyes Bucky almost forgets what’s supposed to come next– almost.

Wetness gathers on his length and he pushes in gently, his gasps harmonizing with yours as he fills you completely. His lips are on your again because Bucky can’t help it, hooked like a drug on the immediate relief that comes with the investment of his heart.

The rhythm is set by the slow thrust of his hips, you claw at his back as he deepens his sensual pace, the friction bringing you closer and closer. It’s not long before you shudder around him, the first of many times that have you crying out his name; wondering but ultimately not caring if these walls were as thin as the ones in your apartment.

Your cries reach a new octave as he orchestrates your pleasure, thrusting to meet your hips as you ride him. Together you create a symphony that crescendos as you ride the waves of bliss together, the melody forever imprinting on his soul. Breathless, your lips find each other’s, molding together perfectly as you slowly come down; bodies covered in a sheen of sweat that makes you glow.

You whimper as you untangle from each other, immediately missing his warmth. Bucky tied off the condom, getting up to toss it in the small bin beside the desk. The wiggle of his butt made a smile form on your face that grew as he got back into bed, the weight of his arm curling around you and pulling you close against him. Bucky’s fingertips stroked your skin as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. His lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as you rubbed his chest, humming softly as your spent body relaxed into his.

“Tired?” he asked through a rasped whisper. You hummed in response and Bucky adjusted the blankets over you. “Go to sleep, I’ve got you.” The breath of his murmurs fall gently against your head.

Reaching to the side he clicked off the table lamp. In the darkness his lips found yours a final time, stealing a sweet kiss before you adjusted yourself against him again. Your palm rested above his heart and Bucky wondered if you could feel the way it was still beating with elation. He covered your hand with his, hearing you let out a soft hum as you smiled against him.

The bed is warm, made warmer with your bodies tangled together. Bucky listens in silence to the gentle sounds you make as you drift asleep. He syncs his breath with yours, turning his head ever so slightly to place a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. The rhythm of his heart relaxes to a beat he’s never felt before, one that fills his body and soul with a warm and fuzzy feeling that makes him feel like he would float away if you weren’t resting on him.

A smile secured itself on Bucky’s face as he fell asleep realizing that this feeling might actually be love.

You woke up feeling like last night was a dream, but the weight of Bucky behind you brought you quickly back to reality, one you never imagined would be yours.

His arm was wrapped around your waist keeping your bodies close, a shocking difference of the Bucky you knew that kicked his late night lovers out as quickly as possible. Then again Bucky isn’t that person anymore.

He was still asleep, feeling the breath from his nose against the back of your neck and as much as you needed to get up you stayed in bed for as long as possible, cherishing every moment spent in his arms.

You sensed when he woke up not long after. Bucky inhaled deeply, letting out a soft hum.

“Hey neighbor,” you whispered softly, rubbing his arm that was draped across your waist.

He tightened his hold, squeezing you even closer, smiling at the faint scent of perfume that lingered on your neck. You squirmed as he nuzzled the tip of his cold nose into it, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he rasped.

You tilted your head back, trying to get a glimpse of him but it was easier to turn around completely. Bucky still held you as you twisted to face him, staring up at his beautiful half-sleepy smile and soft gaze that shined like the sun as he looked at you.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his fingers lightly tracing your face. You nodded, a smile pulling so strong as your eyes beamed with happiness. “Good.”

He kissed you sweetly, soft pecks for your sake that were mindful of the morning breath he felt. He should get up to brush his teeth but Bucky didn’t want to, instead he rested his head against your shoulder, curling himself around you and smiling when he felt your arms wrap around him.

Bucky never knew how badly he missed a feeling he never had, feeling comforted in someone’s arms. He never knew how amazing it was to wake up with someone, to cuddle with them, hold them and be held. He’s slept with countless people but no amount of sex has ever equaled what he felt in this moment.

He could scold himself for missing out on this for so long but he doesn’t, because now he has the opportunity to share all these firsts with you and he hopes you’ll be his last.

The scratch of your nails running lazily through his hair made Bucky practically purr against you, the simple act awakening all of his senses, igniting his body in a way that could only be quenched by the heat of your skin against his.

He smirks at the memory of your taste, lifting his gaze to find the coy smile curving your lips. It seems he’s not the only one craving more exploration of each other’s bodies. Bucky reaches forward to bring his lips to yours, morning breath be damned. Neither of you cared anyway, quickly giving in to the flames of desire that spread like wildfire through your bodies.

It’s different now, when the morning sun reveals more truth in Bucky eyes, in the way he looks deep into your own as you climb the heights of passion together. Fingers entwined, breathless moans falling from his mouth, foreheads pressed together as he claims your lips, holding your body tightly as you fall apart around him as if this would all disappear if he let go. Every look, every touch; that was the difference. Bucky was giving every part of himself to you, opening up in a way he had never done before with anyone.

His hips stuttered as he climaxed, crying out with a groan that softened as your hands cupped his cheeks, stealing what little breath he had left as you brought your lips to his. He smiled against you, catching his breath in between soft kisses.

Bucky was quick to discard the condom and reclaim his spot beside you, opening his arms for you to cuddle close against him, keeping you warm as the aftershocks of pleasure shudder through your body. His hand rubbed circles on your back and the press of his lips on your forehead made you exhale through a content smile.

You stayed in his arms for as long as you could before desperately needing to use the bathroom, with Bucky laughing as you untangled your legs from his and the covers, sprinting naked off the bed. He laid back, arms folded under his head unable to contain his smile. This weekend has been greater than anything he could have ever dreamed of and the best is yet to come.

You scurry out of the bathroom towards your bag, throwing on a t-shirt for modesty before pulling out the clothes you would be changing into. Bucky watched as the sun streaming in through the window glowed around you, the angel that broke the confines of his heart.

There was less of a rush to the rest of the morning, having missed breakfast but still having time before you needed to check out. You checked your phone in between changing, seeing a flurry of messages come in from the group chat, plus Wanda and Steve sending separate ones to check in.

You heard Bucky get up from the bed but didn’t turn around because it still felt awkward. A good awkward as the butterflies in your stomach were still fluttering wildly, bit still whatever this was between you was undefined and you didn’t want to presume anything.

“Hey…” Bucky began slowly, and turning around you saw he was fully dressed except for his sneakers, hands in the pockets of his jeans with his shoulders shrugged up.

He looked like a little kid who thought he might be in trouble and it made you feel good to know you weren’t the only one who didn’t know how to act around each other. When you flashed him a smile Bucky relaxed, letting the tension go from his shoulders. He reached his hands out to take yours, holding both of them close to his heart.

Letting out a nervous breath he said, “Y/N, I want you to know that I meant what I said last night, every word.” Your smile slowly reached your eyes as he spoke. “And I never expected us to…” Bucky licked his lips, looking down as he felt his cheeks begin to flush at the memory of what happened. “It was incredible, you’re incredible, but maybe we could take things slow?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, sincerity woven through an unease smile as he waited for an answer. But he didn’t have to wait long. You nodded quickly, never losing eye contact as you smiled, reassuring him you could take things at whatever pace he needed. Bucky kissed your knuckles before letting your hands go, surprised to feel them around him instantly in a hug that dissolved any lingering concerns he had about his request.

Any awkward tension had dissipated by the time you pulled away, leaving nothing but the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the sound of your stomach hangrily rumbling. Bucky chuckled, feeling his own about to rival yours in volume so he sifted through the bag from your initial CVS run to find something to eat.

You satisfied your hunger with a protein bar each, splitting some almonds and topping it off with sparkling water, that you still worried would explode upon opening by the way Bucky quickly pulled it from the small fridge. Eating as you packed, you made sure nothing was left in the room. Bucky packed your dress up with his suit again and when you were ready he arranged an Uber to the train station.

Walking hand in hand to the elevator, Bucky stole an innocent kiss, unable to help himself. He wanted to show you just how much he cared now that the truth he held back for so long was finally out there. His affectionate touches continued all the way home, as Bucky slung his arm over you during the ride back to Manhattan.

“Wanna go out for some lunch?” he asked, as you approached your apartment building.

You nodded approvingly, listing a slew of places you could go for since breakfast wasn’t actually filling. Bucky opened the front door for you, resuming the placement of his fingers laced with yours once you were both inside.

The air in the building felt different, as if the walls themselves were watching you, whispering about what might be happening between two of their residents. The elevator opened, taking you to your floor with a jerking gasp when you and Bucky kissed inside of it.

Your bags were dropped off in your respective apartments, taking the elevator back down just as quickly as you came up to go for lunch, which was actually going to be breakfast. Bucky suggested a spot a few blocks away you had been to once before, an unassuming deli with an all day breakfast menu, though you hadn’t had the pleasure of trying their well known breakfast fare. You were looking forward to stuffing yourself sweet French toast and sugary syrup, hoping to spend the rest of the day lounging in Bucky’s arms.

“Bucky! Hey!” A woman's voice pulled you away from your lazy Sunday daydream.

You both turned around at the woman who just jogged past you, stopping to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

She was taller than average, showing off lean legs of unblemished light brown skin in the athletic shorts she wore. A large sweat stain soaked through the front of her grey tank top, her long dark hair a little messy but not really out of place.

“C-Claire?” Bucky stuttered, not expecting to run into her let alone remember her name. “Hey…”

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you. The hospital put me on night shifts the past week, it’s been hard to adjust. We still on for Saturday night?”

Sound was ringing in your ear like a bomb exploded in front of you and it had, in the form of Bucky being a lying scumbag. His snake like words charmed his way into your heart as a ploy to take off your pants and you complied with ease.

When the world was no longer a muffled haze you realized you and Bucky were alone again, with Claire probably continuing her work out; she has to look good for her date with Bucky at the end of the week. Maybe he was “taking it slow” with her too. You bit your lip before the quiver could show, feeling like an idiot for not knowing better. Bucky didn’t change and he never would.

“I’m so sorry about that. I never– ”

You were done with hearing any more of Bucky’s lies, retorting with one of your own.

“Shit! I just realized I was supposed to help Wanda finish unpacking today. She’s gonna kill me, I gotta run.”

You didn’t give Bucky the chance to speak, ignoring the way he pleaded for you to come back. Taking off towards the nearest subway, you ran down the stairs as fast as you could, at risk of tripping thanks to the tears that flooded your eyes. Wanda’s new place was much closer, and after a few quick stops you were in front of her door, sobbing heavily as you fell into her arms.

PART 21

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut

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brywrites · 4 years ago

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Little Beautiful

Summary: In which Max’s art exhibit is a gallery of beautiful things, and Spencer Reid finds himself surprised by what it includes. Spencer Reid x Max Brenner

.......

Spencer Reid can name many beautiful things. He can talk in depth about the natural splendor of the Golden Ratio and why humans love symmetry. He can explain the history of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, recount the painstaking detail with which the Taj Mahal was built. He’s seen desert sunsets and shooting stars and the faces of parents reunited with children they thought they might never see again.

He loves all the great and beautiful things in the world. And nobody quite makes the world look as beautiful as Max does. She’s protective of her art, fiercely private about it, but the glimpses she allows him stun him. Then again, he figures he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, she’s beautiful.

Reid thinks he could never tire of looking at her. Her wide, brown eyes, her long eyelashes, the way her cheeks are painted pink each time he pushes her hair back from her face. Her smile just knocks him out. Her movements are graceful, elegant. And the sight of her bare body in the soft light of his bedroom makes him think that no word in any language could ever even hope to come close to describing this sort of perfection.

Everything about her puts a sunset to shame. Her laugh. The way she makes him smile on the worst days. The softness of her touch when her skin is on his. The warmth of her embrace. The kindness of her heart. There’s no doubt, Maxine Brenner is beautiful, in every sense of the grossly inadequate word.

But beauty has a way of reminding him of his own inadequacies. For all his love of lovely things, Reid knows the word is never one he could hope to claim. His face won’t ever inspire poetry. His hair is, at best, an unruly mess. His stubble is always a little scruffier than he’d like it to be. And while he managed to get physically stronger after Milburn, getting in shape didn’t quite happen. He can hold an unsub on the ground without worry, but he’s absolutely terrified each time he undresses before her.

But he loves her. Which is why when she hands him a flyer that reads, Little Beautiful, he knows he’ll say yes to whatever it is before she even explains.

“I have a confession to make,” Max says. “I didn’t want to tell you sooner because I was afraid I might jinx it, but now that it’s all official – I’m going to have an exhibition at Jolie Laide!” Jolie Laide is one of the District’s most revered contemporary commercial galleries, and Max is understandably over the moon.

“What?” he gasps. “When did this happen? How?”

“There was a call for submissions, and well I’ve been working on this idea for a while and I figured why not give it a shot? Spencer, they loved it! They actually loved my art!” she says, and the little hop of joy in her step makes him want to kiss her right there in the middle of the street. Is she even aware of how adorable she is?

“That’s incredible. I mean, I’m not surprised. Everything you do is incredible. But what’s the title mean?” he asks, pointing at the flyer.

“It’s a Van Gogh reference,” she says, and he smiles. Of course it is. The Dutch master will always have a spot in her heart, and in the small “Starry Night” tattoo on her inner arm. “Find things beautiful as much as you can,” she recites. “Most people find too little beautiful.”

She takes his hand in hers. Her hands are small and dainty. He could almost close his fingers around hers completely. It makes him think he must look so strange beside her, a mess of lanky limbs.

“I know that big parties aren’t really your scene,” Max says. “But the opening night is kind of a big deal and it would really mean a lot to me if you came.”

“Are you kidding me?” he laughs. They turn down the street to his apartment. “You’re my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for five months, three weeks, and five days. Of course I’m going to be there.”

“Well good. And tell your friends! The more the merrier. I think you’re really gonna like it,” she adds, with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes that makes his stomach flip.

“If you made it, I know I’ll love it.” Deciding the doorstep of his building is close enough, he leans down to kiss her.

Two weeks later, he finds himself standing in the lobby of Jolie Laide with the rest of his team. Many of them have decided to make a date night of the event, as it’s not often profilers have the excuse to attend a formal event. Reid shifts nervously from foot to foot as they wait for the doors to open. Somehow he still feels out of place in nice suit, wearing the “Starry Night” tie she bought him at a work trip she took to the MoMA. Everyone here looks so beautiful, and he feels like he’s playing dress up, like they’ll all be able to tell he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s all too aware of the way he hasn’t managed to tame his hair, of the way his shirt fits a little tighter than it used to, of the way the people around him exude an air effortless cool that he could never hope to.

To ease his mind, he takes comfort in counting the people waiting. They’re all here for Max, for the beautiful things she makes. The last time he was at a gallery opening like this he was standing in a sweater vest next to Gideon who was flirting with the artist while Reid tried not to stare too much at Lila Archer. The memory makes him want to laugh – how infatuated he felt at that time with her. And now with Max, he can’t imagine thinking such a feeling was love. It’s so different than the consuming warmth he feels when he’s with her, the way hearing her voice can bring him back down to earth when his mind moves too quickly, the way he he’s always hated touch but never seems to mind when it’s her. Rather he craves the feeling of her hand in his, her arms around him, her lips on his skin. He’s in love with her, and he’s in deep.

The clock strikes seven and the doors are opened. They step into the bright white gallery space. The moment he’s inside, he is in awe. He recognizes Max’s work immediately, and it’s everywhere. There are large canvas paintings of small objects that take up so much space. There are paintings that must be zoomed in, hyper-focused views of much bigger objects. And it’s all beautiful. Max’s work has the same mastery over colors as the Impressionists, but with contemporary details and precision. Her paintings don’t just look like something, they feel like something. There is a series of pieces of stunningly detailed school supplies – a crayon, a yellow pencil, a bottle of glue. They seem to reflect light, possessing colors far too rich for items so simple.

Max has made them lovely with her gaze, with her hands.

In one painting, a vibrant sunset is seen through a small window. In another, the trunk of a tree is made to look so close that the leaves the viewer stares up at are but a golden blur. Fruit, a butterfly’s wing, and a flower are made into a kaleidoscope of colors. He catches glimpses of familiar faces in portraits – her sister Michelle’s eye, her father’s hand, identifiable by his watch, holding a baseball with vibrant red stitching.

“Wow,” Simmons says, standing beside him. “This is amazing. I mean, I don’t always get art, you know? But damn. Max is talented.”

“She sure is,” Reid says. But he’s only half listening, because he’s taken in by it, by all of it. This is the world through Max’s eyes. All these little details, all the little beautiful things that she sees. And she has reflected them back to the world in a way that takes his breath away.

The unfamiliar voice of an man calls the gallery to attention through a microphone, and Reid makes his way back towards the entrance where all the guests are slowly gathering.

“I now have the pleasure of introducing tonight’s guest of honor, Maxine Brenner,” a man with tiny wire-rimmed classes says.

Reid joins the crowd, falling into place beside Garcia and JJ just in time to see Max walk over in a white lace dress. She is utterly radiant, resplendent. His heart quickens at the sight of her. She takes the microphone and thanks the man with a dazzling smile. “Thank you all for being here,” she says. “It’s truly an honor to share this night with you, and I’m thankful to Jolie Laide for the opportunity to do so. It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that Van Gogh is my favorite artist. He once said, find things beautiful as much as you can. Most people find too little beautiful. The concept for this exhibit was to find all the beautiful things that we overlook. I wanted to pay attention to their little details and find new ways to show the world what beautiful is and what it could be. Every painting is of something I’ve found lovely – whether it’s a natural phenomenon seen through a new lens or an everyday object that just needs someone to notice it or a person–”

She pauses and her gaze moves over the crowd until she spots him. And that mischievous glimmer returns to her eyes. “– who doesn’t realize how beautiful they are. I hope that tonight helps you all to see the beauty around you and in yourselves, and maybe encourages you to see things a little differently, and to find the world a little more beautiful.” As she bows, the room bursts into applause and he swells with pride. This is her moment, and she’s beaming, and he couldn’t be more happy for her.

He wants to go up and hug her, but a swarm of admirers immediately descends upon her with enthusiastic questions and curious remarks. This is her night. He knows that when she wants to talk to him, she’ll let him know. For now, he’ll let these strangers have their moment with her – he can have all of the time in the world with her. The team opts to take a break to help themselves to the refreshment table and Emily offers to grab him a drink, but he politely refuses. He wants to keep walking around.

He can’t help but smile as he does so, hearing the praise and wonder in the words of the other guests. Yes, he wants to tell them. Yes, she’s that talented. Yes, she notices things nobody else does. And she’s hilarious and generous and gorgeous and somehow, somehow I am hers. But how unsightly it would be of him, in his suit and crooked tie, with his messy hair and off-balance gait to interrupt these strangers reveling at the beauty before them. So he stays quiet, happy just to be here. Happy to have the privilege to even witness such beauty.

When he turns the corner, he’s grateful he declined that drink because if there were a glass in his hand, he surely would have dropped it. Many of Max’s pieces are gathered on walls or in corners in groups based on themes or subjects. And in this particular nook, he finds himself uncomfortably familiar with the face staring back at him from one of them. The same face he has stared down in the mirror a thousand times.

It strikes him – Max has painted him. Reid steps closer and realizes it’s not just one painting. The whole wall is him. There is a painting of just one honey-colored eye, gazing down. A hand on the spine of a book. His lips, slightly parted, just a little uneven. His shoulders and collarbone, the slope of his neck and the curve of his chin, a few wild curls visible in the narrow view of the painting. And two portraits where his face is fully visible.

The brushstrokes are so careful, the colors so soft. She paints him in curves and edges and tiny hints of unexpected hues. She paints him with such detail, as though she has tried to memorize every inch of him. She has painted him beautiful.

And for a thirty-six seconds he can’t breathe. He just stares. Because this is how she sees him. And she’s put it on display for all the world to see.

“There’s a level of precision in these that I didn’t see in the other portraits,” an older woman says to a young woman beside her. “I can’t explain it, but it somehow feels like they were more… lovingly painted.”

“Like she knew exactly how they should feel,” her companion agrees.

“The subject has such a striking jawline,” a man says to the woman holding his hand. “And I like the way she painted his hair. Every curl is so careful.”

“It’s really beautiful,” she says, pointing to one of the portraits. Max has painted him smiling, gazing upwards, and he isn’t even sure if he’s capable of looking that way. “I think this one might be my favorite overall.” When they step aside, he can read the small placard on the wall naming the paintings. It reads, “And if I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?” Series. Oil on canvas. 2020.

Reid swallows hard, past the lump of emotions lodged in his throat, and turns quickly to walk to another corner of the gallery, both to avoid recognition and because if he keeps looking he thinks he might cry. But when he turns, she’s standing right there. Looking up at him through her long lashes, her graceful hands clasped in front of her as she waits in that lovely lace dress.

“Do you like it?” she asks him, nodding at the corner.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why did you paint me?”

Max smiles. “I told you, Magic Man, I wanted to paint pretty things.”

He shakes his head. “But I’m not – I mean, look at me, I’m–”

“I am looking.” She reaches up to brush her fingers against his cheek, having to stand on her toes even in heels to do so. “And you are beautiful. My beautiful. I wanted to show you the way I see you. Because of all the beautiful things, none of them make me feel quite like you do.”

Max takes his hand and walks up to the paintings. She says nothing, just waits as he looks at them close up, unafraid of someone realizing he’s looking at himself. He stares at the light and shadows created by her paintbrush. The bright colors that draw attention over painted skin. The soft gaze, the eyes that seem to look so alive. Stray freckles, flecks of tan and gold. It feels so astonishingly intimate. There’s no denying that her work is remarkable. It is beautiful.

And this is how she sees him. Worthy of that sort of attention. Capable of bringing those kinds of colors to life. And when he faces her, he realizes – the painting with the smile. He does look that way. He can feel the movement of the muscles in his face forming a near mirror image as he realizes he only ever looks that way at her.

“Thank you,” he says. Max pulls him down to kiss him, her lips so sweet, and it feels beautiful. He thinks that if they were not here, surrounded by other people, that he would love nothing more than to avail her of that beautiful dress and paint patterns of her skin with his fingertips, give every inch of her the same level of attention with his lips that she did with her paints, and whisper over and over to her just how lovely he finds her.

But they’re not alone, not yet. “Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan says. All of his friends are there, having discovered this nook of the gallery. “Look at that! She somehow managed to make you look even prettier than usual, Pretty Boy.” Reid flushes crimson as they praise Max’s work. She joins them to walk around the rest of the gallery, her hand in his, and from time to time he swears he can see someone staring at the two of them, and he knows they recognize his face. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how the rest of the world looks at him, so long as he knows the way he looks through her eyes. For the first time, he can see himself the way she sees him. As he is, not as he fears he is.

Somehow, this has become his life. Walking through a gallery of paintings made by his favorite person, while she gazes at him like he’s her only muse, telling him that he belongs among lovely things. Somehow believing it all. Somehow at home surrounded by strangers and a few of the people he trusts most. This is his life. And what a beautiful life it is.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x max #spencer reid x max brenner #max brenner #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfiction #imagine #little beautiful #brywrites

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avversiera-writes · 4 years ago

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'till death do us part - chapter 1 [tobirama senju/you]

Chapter 1 - Allegiances

Summary: In which Madara leaves the village right after you break the news of your engagement to Tobirama, and you are left with the easiest decision to make.

Words: 3.4k

A/N: I know I promised to write their meeting, but this whole part of the series just would not LEAVE MY MIND AND SO HERE WE ARE....pls enjoy, and thank you for reading lols.

Also available in AO3.

If someone were to tell your past self that in the near future, you will end up betrothed to the second Senju brother, you might have laughed at their face and patted the person on their back for the effort of making such a joke. There is no way that socially inept bastard had managed to woo you and make you fall for him. Sure, you can be flirtatious and you think you can get anyone with your vibrant charms.

But to have one of the founding fathers of the very village you reside in fall for you, and you, to reciprocate. There was just no way.

However, that is your reality now. Here you are, wearing his ring, his promise to you that he will be your companion for the rest of your life. You now have someone who will fight for you just as hard as you will fight for them. You have dreamt of a place to accept and love you, and you have found it in him.

You have broken the news to Madara first, as he is a good friend of yours, but his reaction was not something you expected. He fell into silence, instead of making fun of you and badmouthing your Senju fiance. That would have been the Madara you knew.

“Are you happy with him?” Madara asks, his eyes narrowed and somber towards the horizon. He finally breaks his silence after you bring him the news of your engagement.

You look towards the horizon as well, trying to determine what Madara is trying to find. You sigh, not liking this Madara, who seems to be dead set on accomplishing whatever he is conjuring up in his mind. You know that he and the Shodaime Hokage have been at odds these days, and with Tobirama, the man you are now betrothed to, being in the middle of the disagreements, a middle ground will not be reached, unless it will benefit the village above all under his terms.

You are not privy to what they have been arguing about, though you are sure that it has been about the Hokage seat or their differing opinions of peace. Many years have passed since the village has been established and with it, its leader, but it does not mean that it has been spared by power plays, especially when the village houses many prominent clans. Though, this has been foreseen by Tobirama, since the village is still young.

As observant as you are, you try to catch what Madara is thinking about, but the friend and mentor you have known for a long time is gone, and before you, is a stranger. He seems to brood even more than the man you intend to marry.

Instead, you let his question hang in the air.

“You deserve better you know,” Madara reminds you for the hundredth time.

“I am happy with him,” you tell him sincerely. “I wouldn’t have said yes.”

Madara cracks a small, strained smile at that. “Really? You are smart, considering that marrying into the Senju clan will make sure that you live a prestigious and a comfortable life.”

Your face heats up. “Madara, you know that I love him.” You confess and you look down at your sandals which are becoming increasingly more interesting than anything else. “More than I like to admit.”

Madara nods, his face suddenly back to its calculating mask. “Is it too late to change your mind?” His voice is cold and distant, and it makes your stomach curl. "I could show you a whole different world, one where dreams can run wild without pain."

You roll your eyes and try for a more light-hearted tone, but it is clear that there is no salvaging this conversation. “My husband-to-be may be a prick, but I know where I stand, heart and mind-wise.” Your forehead wrinkles, still processing what he had just said to you. "I have everything I need and could ever want."

Madara seems to be disappointed after hearing this from you, but you cannot pinpoint why. You wish that he can just come clean, and you want to reassure him that you will not judge him, but so much time has passed. Whatever Madara has decided, he is determined to follow through it.

So you let it be. You let him go.

“Congratulations. Be happy,” Madara tells you, and he leaves you, just as the sun dips low into the horizon to sleep. “Though you have to remember that you can no longer stay impartial to any sides with him. You side with him, and you are now against me.”

You turn around to watch him go, and you do not call out to him. You ignore the prick of hurt in your heart from watching his back fade into the shadows.

You never got to say goodbye.

The days following Madara’s defection were a blur. You are aware of Tobirama hounding around his brother more than usual, and the sudden loss of the Uchiha clan’s leader has the village in uproar. You are left to your own thoughts, replaying your last conversation with Madara and trying to figure out if you could have stopped him, but you knew deep in your heart that Madara is gone, and that whatever you could have said that night would not change a thing.

You also keep busy with your Genin team, training them so that they can survive the upcoming Chuunin exams. You spar with them, and hone their teamwork until the end of the day, when you have made sure you have tired them out for good. Tomorrow will be the same, but you find yourself unable to look forward to it. Everything has become a chore, even teaching, which you thoroughly enjoy.

You feel sorry to your students, but you vow to shake off this stupor by tomorrow. These children deserve better.

“Go home and rest,” you tell them as the four of you walk out the training ground. “Eat lots of breakfast. Don’t skip it.”

Miura Mieko glances at you, a silly grin on her face despite her fatigue. “Congratulations on your engagement to Lord Tobirama, sensei.”

The other two, Kai and Taiyo, glanced at each other in surprise.

You pretend to frown at Mieko. “Wherever did you hear that?”

Mieko giggles and elbows you in a friendly way. You let her, since you are not really the formal kind of sensei. “Oh come on, sensei! It’s so obvious! You have a ring! And you two have been making eyes at each other for a while now.”

You roll your eyes, unable to help the blush creeping up your neck. “Eh…”

The three of them offer more enthusiastic congratulations and harmless threats to invite them to your wedding, and when you finally accept and promise to have them attend, your students leave you alone.

It did not occur to you how much you immediately needed the noise and the distraction until you are alone with your thoughts, and the sky is darkening, reminding you of Madara and his dark, pensive eyes. You tell yourself that his defection is not your fault, that there are other problems surrounding him that pushed him to his decision, though it feels like you had a hand in it.

“You let your students talk to you like that?” A familiar, rough voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up to find just the man you have been longing for the past several days.

Tobirama’s red eyes scan your face, and you stop in front of him, exactly two steps away.

You watch his face, trying to reconcile your feelings of your adoration for him and your slight resentment for his politics. You are not unaware of his sentiments towards the Uchiha clan, and a part of you has been wondering whether he had the hand that pushed Madara to his decision. However, this can be easily cleared up through communication.

Tobirama’s eyes narrow slightly, cluing you in that he knows what you are thinking. “If you are wondering, I did not force Madara to leave. He made that decision himself.”

“He was my friend and my mentor,” you say, biting your lip.

Tobirama nods. “I know.”

You make out the tired lines on his face, and you smile softly. You also know another person who also considers Madara as his friend. “How is your brother?”

Tobirama presses his lips together for a moment, and then he sighs tiredly. “He did not take it well. He is in a very depressed state. He blames me.”

You close the distance between the two of you, and Tobirama almost flinches, but when you take his hand to hold it in yours, he freezes, unsure of what to do.

You wait for his response, and your patience is rewarded by a tender squeeze.

“What about you?” You murmur. “I worry about you.”

“I am alright,” he replies evenly, but you know him enough that he is not what he claims to be. His shoulders droop, and his eyes are stormy–a sign of his racing mind.

Slowly, so that he can see, you put your hand on his cheek and trace the red stripe that he had tattooed there in his youth with your thumb. “What are you going to do now?”

Tobirama leans into your touch, and your heart warms at the sight. “Make sure that the village survives this...that my brother gets over it.”

“You know that I am with you, right?” You remind him. “Whatever it is you do, I will back you up.”

Tobirama gives you a small smile, one that lightens up the dark expression of his face. "I am relieved to know that. I know that it is hard for you as well."

The night finally settles, and the two of you begin to walk to the direction of your apartment. In your silence, you catch glimpses of Tobirama’s face, and you sense that, as always, there is a lot going on in his mind that he can barely speak of. It took years to get closer to him like this, but you are not a mind reader.

You have a feeling that this is a lot harder on him, as he sees himself responsible for his brother. Not only does his brother blame him, he also does to himself.

Once the two of you get settled in the warmth of your home, Tobirama silently prepares a simple dinner and tea, while you clean yourself up from the day’s work. You hear him move about, and despite your heavy heart, you cannot help imagine that this will be your life with him soon, and that the two of you will be under one roof.

Fresh and newly showered, you watch him set up the dining table. Your eyes wander from his broad shoulders and to his rolled up sleeves, and when he catches you looking, you make a beeline towards a chair without making any more eye contact.

“So,” you begin awkwardly.

“So,” Tobirama repeats. Then, he sighs and rakes his hand through his hair. He sets down a plate in front of you and walks towards your window. “Did you know that my brother was going to make Madara the Hokage when this village was first established?”

You cross your legs and pick up a piece of his cooking. “No.”

“I objected,” Tobirama continues and he started to pace, his demeanor agitated. “And instead, pushed for my brother to be the Shodaime.”

“And then?”

“My brother wants Madara to be his successor, and I objected again.” Tobirama stops and he stares at his feet. “I did not force Madara to leave, but I may have played into his decision...but this village will not last if Madara is to rule. He is power-hungry, and he will destroy what we built here. No man with his eyes rooted from the power of strong emotions can ever be Hokage.”

You turn away from Tobirama and you close your eyes. You hear Madara’s words to you before he has left, and you realize that they ring true.

“You may not see it, but Madara is filled with hatred. I will always make decisions that are best for the village, and while I do admit I have been hard on the Uchiha clan, I never once wanted to drive him away from the village. Besides, I do want them in the village, and want them to utilize their abilities so that it benefits it.”

“I know my ways have not been agreeable, even to my brother,” Tobirama trails off. “And I am not exactly clean here, either. I did kill Madara’s last brother. If you are angry at me or if you want to blame me, it is okay.”

You put down your utensils and you walk towards him. You do not care much for politics, but as Madara had told you before, you can no longer stay impartial to any sides as long as you stand with the Senju, and that means the village as well. Madara is no longer part of the village, and though you wished that he had stayed and worked out his differences with Hashirama and Tobirama, the simplest wishes are sometimes the hardest to make come true.

“Madara will always be my friend,” you tell Tobirama. “But I do not doubt your intentions for our village. We promised to do everything in our power to keep it safe.”

Tobirama watches you, hesitant to come closer.

“I do not resent you, if that is what you’re thinking.” Your lips curve up to show that you mean it. “If you are looking for ways to make me turn away from you, then you will have to try harder than that.”

Tobirama releases a breath that you know he has been holding.

“Is that why you’re trying to explain yourself to me this way?” You question, raising an eyebrow. “By telling me you are a killer?” You lower your voice. “Tobirama, who isn’t a killer here? Even I have shed blood.”

Tobirama flinches when you put your hands on his face. He looks down, but you catch his gaze as quickly as he evades you.

“You were at war, and now there is peace,” you tell him. “I know you feel responsibility for your brother’s feelings.”

“He hates me.”

“He will never hate you. You are his brother and his trusted advisor.”

Tobirama’s forehead wrinkles.

"Just because your brother is mad at you, does not mean you have to make me mad at you too. Stop trying to make the people around you hate you."

"That may be the only way to do things around here. It makes the hardest decisions easier to carry."

"Stop," you plead with him. "Tobirama, I do not blame you."

“Why?” Tobirama queries, his eyebrows raising in suspicion. “I do not believe that you are agreeing with me just because we are to be wedded.”

You drop your hands from his face and take a deep breath. “Because I knew him. Because I knew that Madara had made his resolve that night. He said goodbye to me on the night he left.”

Tobirama peers at the window and stares at the moon hanging low above the village rooftops. “For what it is worth, I really did not know he intended to leave.”

You hear the tone of apology in his voice, and that is as good as it gets. “Me too.”

You share a moment of silence, letting your conversation change its course. You are relieved that you two manage to talk out your feelings and find that your point of views are quite similar, but you are aware that there are other things on Tobirama’s mind. You know that he cares a lot more than he lets on, and you can only wait and see what he does to show it.

You do not blame him, because you still feel guilty towards Madara, for not taking the time to know what he meant to do, or to ask what he was thinking.

Tobirama clears his throat, and you turn your head towards him. “It will only get harder with me, from here on out. I would like you to be by my side, but you must be aware that there are difficulties packaged alongside my presence.”

“You underestimate me too much, Senju Tobirama,” you smirk. “I am quite tired of that.”

“You can still walk away,” Tobirama’s face schools into a more neutral expression, but you know that this is him preparing for any kind of rejection from you.

You place your hand on his arm and squeeze it gently. “There is no place I would rather be other than to be by your side.”

Tobirama's breath catches and he looks away from your gaze. The tips of his ears are pink, indicating that he has grown shy. It is not like your answer will be different, but sometimes, Tobirama has a tendency to think that he does not deserve to receive any affection from you. He usually inches away when you have taken a step closer, never certain how to react. Here is a man who has made so many decisions without as much as a blink of an eye, but he becomes flustered in front of you and gets surprised when you offer him your hand, or kiss his cheek.

"What?" Tobirama grunts out, sounding irritated than he means to be.

You duck your head away to hide your smile. "Nothing."

Tobirama sighs. "You're making fun of me."

"How do you know? You're not a mind-reader."

"Yes, but I can usually deduce what a person is thinking." Tobirama crosses his arms and he scowls. "Stop taking my confessions lightly. You have already laughed at me when I asked for your hand. Do you intend to laugh at me at the altar when we are about to be wedded?"

You giggle. "What are you so wind up for?" You lean closer into his space, and the smirk fades from your mouth. Your eyes narrow, and in an act of courage, you grab his collar to pull him closer to your face.

Tobirama's eyes widen for a fraction, and then they harden immediately. His jaw tightens, and his shoulders tenses up. "Stop being ridiculous."

However, Tobirama does not pull away. He stays still, and the rest of his body flexes tightly in order to hold his current position of towering over you.

"But we haven't even gotten to the best part yet," you murmur, and you feel yourself drawn towards his lips. "You cannot even gain an inch when I become serious."

Even though you had the confidence to act this way, you cannot help but feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. The anticipation of his next move makes you light-headed, and again, you wait patiently.

"That is because you never let me," Tobirama surrounds an arm around your waist and embraces you against his body.

You reach for the elegant arch of his eyebrow and gingerly trace it with a smile, and then, you meet his eyes to hold his gaze.

If someone were to tell you that the man before you was the one who won your heart, you would have gotten a kick out of that, but here is your reality. Despite your disagreements from time to time, the both of you had always prized the village more than anything, and you trust that Tobirama’s will is in a good place.

Madara may have been right about one thing, but you see a great man who has the ability to make dreams happen, who will stop at nothing to ensure that there are fallbacks to setbacks, who does as he says because he has weighed every possible outcome that can go wrong.

He is the man who has made your dreams come true and has shown up time after time to prove that he is there to hold up his promises. Of course, you have chosen him, and you do not see yourself changing your mind.

To be continued...

Chapter 2 - Union >>

buy me a coffee !

#angelica writes #'til death do us part #tobirama x you #you never said goodbye timeline/au #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x reader

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teawizard-n-coffeewitch · 4 years ago

Text

The Staffordshire Spell

1. Spilled Coffee

The actress moves with grace as she proceeds to walk up the stairs and accept her Emmy. The audience clap and cheer as she smiles softly at them. The scene then unfolds to her walking down the red carpet, after the award ceremony and her red dress helping her stand out from all the other celebrities.

"Exquisite footage of Tina Goldstein-- the great movie star of our time -- an ideal -- the perfect star and woman -- her life full of glamour and sophistication and mystery." Newt mutters to himself as stops looking at the shop's teli (television) and continues on his way.

We follow him as he walks down Manor Drive Road, carrying a brown briefcase in one hand. It is spring.

"Of course, I've seen her films and always thought she was, well, fabulous -- but, you know, million miles from the world I live in. Which is here -- Staffordshire -- not a bad place to be..." Newt tells himself, exciting Manor Drive Road and entering Burton Market Hall.

"It's a full fruit market day." Newt thinks to himself, observing the countless of people swarming in both the inside market hall and outdoor market.

"There's the Outdoor Market on Market Place, Burton. Open on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Selling every fruit and vegetable known to man..." Newt points out, as he studies the cabbages when he walks beside the veggie stands.

Existing the market hall Newt notices a man in denims walking out of the tattoo studio. Newt shakes his head solemnly. "The tattoo parlour -- with a guy outside who got drunk and now can't remember why he chose 'I Love Ken'..." The man looks at his arm and has a confused face, and frowns, as if he were experiencing a headache.

Newt continues walking and passes the hair salon. "Ah, the racial hair-dressers where

everyone comes out looking like the Cookie Monster, whether they like it or not..." Newt teases and sure enough, a girl exits the salon with a huge threaded blue bouffant. Newt coughs back a laugh and walks quickly.

Before he knows it, it's Saturday and the Weekend Antique Market is in full swing. Newt smiles softly at the smiles of the tourists and locals, all shopping. "Then suddenly it's the weekend, and from break of day, hundreds of stalls appears out of nowhere, filling Burton upon Trent with a frantic crowd in the market... and thousands of people buy millions of antiques, some genuine..." Newt thinks, walking down the stands, studying the antiques.

His eyes settles on a stall selling beautiful stained glass windows of various sizes, some featuring biblical scenes and saints. "... and some not so genuine." Newt thinks, frowning a bit.

As Newt continues his walk, he passes by a familiar door. He smiles proudly. "And what's great is that lots of friends have ended up in this part of the United Kingdom -- that's Jacob, soldier turned baker from New York, who recently invested all the money he ever earned in a new bakery..."

Newt waves at Jacob as he's proudly setting out a board outside his bakery, the sign stating; Today's Special is Pumpkin Juice and macaroons! Jacob waves back at Newt with a huge smile.

"So this is where I spend my days and years -- in this small village in the middle of the U.K -- in a house with a Robin egg blue color door that I bought after best friend left me for a man who looked like Callum Turner back in London. That man being my older brother..." Newt thought to himself before he arrived outside his blue-doored house just off Peel's Cut.

"... and where I now lead a strange half-life with a lodger called..." Newt shuffles his keys back in his pocket as he yells, entering the house, "Credence!" Newt walks towards the large kettle in the house.

The house has far too many things in it. House plants, some dishes scattered, and a few clothes on the floor. Definitely two-bachelor flat.

Credence appears. An unusual looking fellow. He has his black hair in an unusual haircut, and an unusual Welsh accent: very white, as though his flesh has never seen the sun. He wears only shorts.

Credence smiles at Newt. "Even he. Hey, you couldn't help me with an incredibly important decision, could you?"

Newt smiles crouching down and puts on his gloves before he begins petting his temporary companion platypus, named Niffler. "This is important in comparison to, let's say, whether they should cancel third world debt?" he asks looking at Credence.

Credence nods, snapping his fingers happily. "That's right -- I'm at last going out on a date with the great Nagini and I just want to be sure I've picked the right t-shirt."

Newt closes the kettle and nods at Credence. "Alright then. What are the choices?"

Credence smirks proudly. "Well... wait for it..." He pulls on a t-shirt and shows Newt. "First there's this one..."

The t-shirt is white with a horrible looking plastic alien coming out of it, jaws open, blood everywhere. It says 'Avada Kedavra.'

Newt stays silent. Just eyeing the shirt. He smiled awkwardly as he stutters, "Yes -- might make it hard to strike a really romantic note.

Credence hums as he thinks. Nodding, he replies, "Point taken." He heads back up the stairs... and talks as he changes. "I suspect you'll prefer the next one." Newt smiles, intrigued at the next shirt Credence will show him.

He re-enters in a white t-shirt, with a large arrow, pointing down to his flies, saying, 'Get It Here.' Credence has a huge smile as he says smugly, "Cool, huh?"

Newt laughs softly before answering awkwardly, "Yes -- she might think you don't have true love on your mind."

Credence nods, taking Newt's advice. "You are right. Wouldn't want that..." he says and back up he goes up the stairs. "Okay -- just one more." Newt hears him speak loudly.

He comes down wearing the last shirt. The shirt has lots of hearts, saying, 'You're the most beautiful woman in the world.' Newt smiles approvingly.

"Well, yes, that's perfect. Well done." Newt says, holding a thumps up. Credence laughs happily. "Thanks. Great! Wish me luck!" Credence says.

Newt salutes him with two fingers, "Good luck."

Credence turns and walks upstairs proudly. As he does so, revealing that on the back of the t-shirt, also printed in big letters, is written 'Fancy a fuck?'

Newt chokes back a laugh before turning around, shaking his head. He puts on his long blue coat.

Newt then walks up towards a house plant and picks up his pet Phasmid. A green stick insect, whose name is Pickett. He grabs him on his hand and gets his brown brief case with his other hand. "Come along now." Newt tells Pickett as he opens the door and yells a farewell to Credence.

And so it was just another hopeless Saturday, as Newt sets off through the market to work, little suspecting that this was the day which would change his life forever. As Newt walks down the busy street a woman, with short dark hair and a dark long coat, dashes pass him. She covers half her face with her coat and Newt just gives her an odd look.

Finally he arrives. In front of a small corner bookshop. This is work, by the way, Newt's little Zoology book shop...

A few years ago he was a Zoologist at the London Zoo but now he owns his own Zoology bookstore. The reason being was because after his best friend left him he was devastated. Being in London hurt so much he moved far away and kept close to himself. When the opportunity presented itself, a small bookstore just a few houses down his home was perfect.

Thus why a small unpretentious shop... named 'Magical Creature Books' was in the street. The book shop, well, sells creature books -- and, to be frank with you, doesn't always sell many of those. Newt enters and sets Pickett down on the shop's bonsai tree. He studies his small shop. It is slightly chaotic, bookshelves everywhere, with little secret bits round corners with even more books.

Bunty, Newt's sole employee, is waiting enthusiastically. She is very keen, an uncrushable optimist. Perhaps without cause. She's a pretty small young woman with frizzy blonde locks and a sweet smile. Like Newt, she has a passion for zoology as well.

A few seconds later, after Newt has hung his blue coat, he stands gloomily behind the main desk.

"Classic. Absolutely classic. Profit from major sales push -- minus 347?" Newt mutters, punching in numbers on the calculator. Bunty frowns sadly at her boss's sad state. "Shall I go get a butter-beer? Ease the pain." Bunty suggest with a small smile. Newt smiles back.

"Yes, better get me a half. All I can afford." Newt sadly jokes as Bunty shakes her head with a soft laugh. "I get your logic. Butter-beer coming up." She salutes and bolts out the door. As she does, a woman walks in. Newt only catches a glimpse of her.

He continues working before he looks up casually and finally he sees her. His reaction is hard to read as he awes the woman. It's the same woman who dashed past him earlier. She takes off her shades and places them on her head. After a pause... Newt breaths calmly.

"Can I help you?" Newt asks, a bit nervously.

The woman who just entered is none other than Tina Goldstein, the biggest movie star in the world-- here -- in his shop. The most subtle woman on earth in his opinion. Newt is speechless. This cannot be happening. How? Why? In his shop? When she speaks she is very self-assured and self - contained.

"No, thanks. I'll just look around." Tina replies softly, her eyes with a spark of hesitant. Newt nods, "Alright then." He watches as she wanders around and picks out a small book on the coffee table.

Newt doesn't know how or why he did it but as Tina proceeds to open the book and skim through it, he can't help but blurt out, "That book's really not good-"

Tina stops and raises an eyebrow at him. Newt flushes awkwardly as he stammers, "J-Just in case, you...you know, boring turned to buying. You'd be wasting your money." He curses at himself for acting like such a fool.

"Really?" asks Tina, slightly finding Newt's red face amusing.

"Yes." Newt flushes before embarrassing himself more by adding, "This one though is... very good." He picks up a book on the counter.

"I think the man who wrote it has actually studied Komodo dragons, which helps. There's also a very amusing incident with its hatchlings." Newt stutters out, scratching his back neck nervously.

Tina just stares at him before she replies, "Thanks. I'll think about it." Before he can apologize for acting like a fool Newt suddenly spies something odd on the small TV monitor beside him.

He gives Tina an apologetic look as he mumbles, "If you could just give me a second." Newt then walks out of his main desk. Tina's eyes follow him as he moves toward the back of the shop and approaches a man in slightly ill-fitting clothes. She studies at how he'll approach the situation.

"Excuse me." Newt begins, a bit nervous. The man raises an eyebrow at Newt. "Yes?" he asks, giving Newt an odd look. Newt winces, knowing this won't be easy. "Bad news." Newt begins.

"What?" the man asks in an annoyed tone. "We've got a security camera in this bit of the shop." Newt says. The man tries to keep it cool as he shoots back a, "So?"

Newt crosses his arms, trying to act a bit confident. "So, I saw you put that book down your trousers." The man just stares at him.

"What book?" he challenges. Newt sighs. "The one down your trousers." he adds embarrassed.

"I haven't got a book down my trousers." the man snaps to which Newt's ears turn red. "Right -- well, then we have something of an impasse. I tell you what -- I'll call the police -- and, what can I say? Er -- If I'm wrong about the whole book-down-the-trousers scenario, I sincerely apologize." Newt offers to which the man stays silent for a moment.

"Okay -- what if I did have a book down my trousers?" asks the man to which Newt replies, "Well, ideally, when I went back to the desk, you'd remove the Mythologies of Basilisk Snakes from your trousers, and either wipe it and put it back, or buy it. See you in a sec." Newt says before returning to his desk. In the monitor Newt glimpse, seeing the book coming out of the trousers and put back on the shelves.

The man drifts out towards the door. Tina who has observed all this, is looking at the book on the counter, the one Newt suggested.

"Sorry about that..." Newt apologies to Tina as she walks up to the cash register and places the book she was skimming through.

"No, that's fine. I was going to steal one myself but now I've changed my mind." she lightly teases before seeing how the book she was about to purchase had a signature. "Signed by the author, I see." she points out to which Newt replies with a soft laugh, "Yes, we couldn't stop him. If you can find an unsigned copy, it's worth an absolute fortune. That's Gilderoy Lockhart for you."

Tina gives him a small nervous smile. Suddenly the thief man is there, standing right beside Tina.

"Excuse me." he begins. Tina looks at him. "Yes?" she answers. "Can I have your autograph?" he asks, making Tina look a bit uncomfortable before nodding. He gives her a piece of paper and pen and she gets it.

"What's your name?" Tina asks him boldly. "Tom." the young man replies to which Tina nods. She signs his scruffy piece of paper and gives it to him. He tries to read it before asking, "What does it say?"

"Well, that's the signature -- and above, it says 'Dear Tom -- you belong in Azkaban.' " Tina says without missing a beat.

"Nice one. Would you like my phone number?" Tom asks to which Tina smiles and acts as if she's thinking deeply. "Tempting..." she begins breaking out of her thoughts, "but... no, thank you."

The man, Tom, then leaves, leaving Newt and Tina alone.

"I apologize about that." Newt begins, making Tina shake her head and hold her hand out to stop him from apologizing.

She hands Newt a twenty euros note and the book he said was rubbish. He talks as he handles the transaction. "Oh -- right -- on second thoughts maybe it wasn't that bad. Actually -- it's a sort of masterpiece really. None of those childish mythology stories you get in so many books these days." Newt word vomits out nervously as she looks at him with a slight smile.

He gives her the book she just purchased with a small smile. "Thanks." Tina says and walks out the shop quietly. And leaves. She's out of his life forever.

Newt leans on his desk, a little dazed. Seconds later Bunty comes back in, with two butter-beers at hand.

She gives Newt his. "Thanks. I don't think you'll believe who was just in here." Bunty's face breaks out with a shock expression as she asks, "Who? Was it someone famous?"

But Newt's innate natural English discretion takes over. He knows better than to expose Tina's whereabouts.

"No. No-one -- no-one." Newt replies causing Bunty to frown. They set about drinking their butter-beers.

"It be exciting if someone famous did come into the shop though, wouldn't it? Do you know -- this is pretty incredible actually -- I once saw Grindelwald. Or at least I think it was Grindelwald. It might have been that broke from 'Pirates of The Caribbean,' John."

"Johnny." Newt corrects Bunty as she snaps her fingers. "That's right -- Johnny." Bunty repeats the name with a smile.

"But Johnny Depp doesn't look anything like Grindelwald." says Newt as he finishes his butter-beer.

"No, well... he was quite a long way away." Bunty points out. "So it could have been neither of them?"

"I suppose so." Bunty says slowly. "Right. It's not a classic anecdotes, is it?" asks Newt. "Not classic, no." she says.

Bunty shakes his head. Newt takes her empty butter-beer cup and throws it in the garbage can, along his.

"Right -- want another one?" Newt asks her to which she nods. "Yes. No, wait -- let's go crazy -- I'll have an ice coffee."

Newt groans but obeys her order. And so be it, Newt sets off to the only place in the street that makes coffee; Jacob's bakery.

Entering the bakery Jacob pulls him into a hug and decides to catch up on their morning. Newt desperately desires to tell Jacob about Tina but in the end, decides to not. Jacob gives Newt two ice coffees and teases him about finally acting like an American. Newt rolls his eyes as he collects his coffee.

He swings out of Jacob's bakery, biding him a farewell and as he turns the corner of the road he accidentally bumps straight into someone.

That someone being Tina! The cold coffees, in its paper cups, fly out of Newt's grasps, soaking Tina.

"Oh Mercy Lewis!" Tina gasps as her white button shirt is soaked in black coffee. She tightens her hands on her brown bags.

"Oh I am so so sorry. I really do apologize!" Newt stutters as he tries helping Tina.

"Here, let me help." Newt offers as he grabs the paper napkins that came with the coffees and tries to clean the soaked coffee off -- getting far too near her breasts in the panic of it...

Tina jumps back as she snaps, "What are you doing?!" Newt jumps back, realizing his stupid mistake.

"Nothing, nothing... I swear! Look, uh..I live just over the street. Uh... you could get cleaned up." he offers awkwardly as she glares at him.

"No thank you. I need to get my car back." Tina replies, trying to wipe the coffee out of her shirt.

"I also have a phone." Newt mumbles. "I'm confident that in five minutes we can have you

spick and span and back on the street again... in the non-prostitute sense obviously."

In his diffident way, he is confident, despite her being genuinely annoyed. She sighs before she turns and looks at him.

"Okay. So what does 'just over the street' mean -- give it to me in yards." Tina orders, placing her hand on her forehead, as if she were experiencing a headache.

"Eighteen yards." Newt automatically replies, surprising himself. He points to his house's blue door. "That's my house there. The one with the Robin egg blue color door."

Tina's eyes follow his finger and she sees that he doesn't lie -- it is eighteen yards away. She looks down, debating if she should allow him to escort her or not.

She looks up at Newt and nods softly. He nods and together they walk towards Newt's house.

They pass by many people but no one seems to recognize Tina. She is once again, hiding her face with her black coat and shades.

They both enter Newt's house and stand in the corridor. She carries a few stylish bags. She gives Newt an uncertain look.

"Come on in. I'll just..." he begins and walks in further -- it's a mess. He kicks some old shoes

under the stairs, picks up Pickett's scattered food and hides a plate of Credence's breakfast in a cupboard. Tina enters the kitchen slowly.

"It's not that tidy, I fear." Newt apologizes, as he stands nervously.

Tina doesn't seem to mind and realizing why she's in his house in the first place, he guides her up the stairs, after taking the bag of books from her and settling them down the stairs. On top of a small coffee table.

"The bathroom is right at the top of the stairs and there's a phone on the desk up there." Newt tells Tina as he tries gesturing with his hand where the bathroom is. Tina nods and she heads upstairs.

The second Newt hears the bathroom door close he enters the kitchen and goes mad. He's tidying up frantically; from throwing dishes in the sink, to wiping the long wooden table clean, and sweeping. Then he hears Tina's movement on the stairs. Newt stops and sees as she walks down, wearing a new set of white jeans and a blue silk shirt beneath her black coat. Newt is utterly dazzled by the sight of her.

"Would you like a cup of tea before you go?" Newt asks, trying to cut the awkward silence.

"No thanks." Tina replies.

"Pumpkin Juice?"

"No."

"What about coffee -- oh- er-probably not." Newt says as he moves to his very empty fridge -- and offers its only contents. "Something else cold -- soda, water, some disgusting sugary drink pretending to have something to do with fruits of the forest?" he offers as Tina stares at him.

"Really, no." she insists.

"Would you like something to nibble -- apricots, soaked in honey -- quite why, no one knows -- because it stops them tasting of apricots, and make them taste like honey, and if you wanted honey, you'd just buy honey, instead of apricots, but nevertheless -- um -- they're yours if you want them." Newt stutters holding the glass jar of apricots soaked in honey.

"No." Tina answers, as she observes Newt make a fool out of himself.

There is a moment of silence before Newt, stupidly but boldly asks, "Do you always say 'no' to everything?"

There is a pause. Frankly because Tina did not expect Newt to ask her a question so... striking. She looks at him deep and cocks her head to a side before replying softly, "No."

There is silence again but it's not awkward. It's a moment of peace before Tina breaks it, saying, "I better be going. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome and, may I also say... heavenly." Newt says as he closes the fridge door, leading Tina back to the corridor, "It has taken a lot to get this out loud. He is not a smooth - talking man." Newt takes a deep breath before says daring, "Take my one chance to say it. After you've read that terrible book, you're certainly not going to be coming back to the shop."

Tina looks at him and smiles. She's cool and well amused at his opinion for that book she bought.

"Thank you."

Newt looks down nervously, "Yes. Well. My pleasure."

He guides her towards the house's blue door. "Nice to meet you. Surreal but nice." Newt reveals causing Tina to silently laugh. In a slightly awkward moment, he shows her out the door. She gives him a nod before stepping out. He closes the door and shakes his head in wonder. Then slaps his forehead as he mutters, " 'Surreal but nice.' What was I thinking?"

He shakes his head again in horror and wanders back along the corridor in silence. There's a knock on the door. He moves back, speaking up, "Coming."

He opens the door and is surprised. It's her.

#newtina #newt scamander #tina goldstein #fantastic beats and where to find them #fbawtft #salamander eyes

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cap-winter-barnes · 4 years ago

Text

No Matter What - Dean Winchester x Reader

2K WRITER & READER CHALLENGE

Here it is, my fic for ‘Amanda’s 2K Write & Reader Challenge’ using the prompt “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking”. This is the first piece of writing I have ever done for a challenge and I absolutely loved doing it.

If you enjoy it, please feel free to check out my other work. My requests are always open. And whilst you’re at it, go and give @amanda-teaches a follow and check out her work too, she writes awesome stuff!

Warnings: angst, teeth-rotting fluff

A/N: Based lightly upon the episode ‘Regarding Dean’ (12x11). This episode utterly broke my heart so obviously had to use it for a sad(ish) fic.

Four hours. That is how long it has been since Dean left for food. The motel room lays in silence as I anxiously await his return. Sam retired to bed not too long ago, desperate for some rest, with the sweet promise of Dean’s safe homecoming as his departing words. Sitting in our bed, fully dressed and boots tied securely to my feet, I think of all the possible worst case scenarios. My mind running amok with fear at the absence of the man I love. Without Dean the room we have been sharing is cold, evident by the way the hairs on my arms stand on edge, goosebumps rising on my skin. Rolling the sleeves of his plaid shirt down over my hands, I try and compose myself.

Dean is a hunter, the best there is, and he can handle himself in a fight. If anything were to have happened to him, he’d be alright, he always was. With that sliver of hope in my mind and the knowledge that Dean knows his way around the supernatural, I start to relax slightly. Glancing at the alarm clock on the worn chest of drawers that shows the time as a few minutes past midnight, an involuntary yawn leaves my body. I try and fight the fatigue that has been weighing me down, but I know that the attempt will be futile. With the added stress and worry of Dean not coming back as expected, my body has become overridden with exhaustion. Leaning back into the softness of the pillows behind my back and the prospect of Dean returning safely back to us, I fall into a light slumber.

The repetitive sound of my name being called is what drags me from my sleep, a sleep plagued with terrible nightmares. Slowly opening my eyes to the silhouette of Sam in the doorway makes my body spring upwards from its resting position. A pain shoots through my neck, the realisation that I had in fact slept awkwardly, with my back propped against the wall, and a pillow haphazardly strewn sideways across the headboard. Rubbing at the sore area, I make eye contact with the younger Winchester before taking in his positive demeanour. In his hand, he clutches his phone, shaking it for emphasis when I direct my attention to it. Immediately I forget about the aches which radiate through me and sit upright.

“Sammy-“ Before I can get another word in, he interrupts me, easing my nerves, replacing them with relief.

“He’s alive.” His statement is accompanied by a chuckle of disbelief and a shake of his head. “He’s at Waldo’s. Leave in ten?”

“Make it five, Samuel.”

His laugh, so rarely heard, echoes as he leaves the room, walking across the balcony back to his own room. “Okay, five. And I’m driving.” Hearing his receding voice, I remove myself from the bed and make myself more presentable in preparation for Dean’s excuses.

Upon entering Waldo’s Waffles, both Sam and I, are met with the sight of Dean stuffing his face full of a combination of waffle, banana, blueberry and whipped cream. A lightness filled by heart at seeing him in one piece, no blood to be seen. But there was a shadow of doubt looming over everything, something was wrong. Dean’s blue jacket is caked in mud and dirt, his right sleeve completely covered in the stuff. His face is filthy, dirt embedded into the lines around his eyes and nose, scratches scattered across his cheeks. What had happened last night? I watch on as Sam approaches his brother, rattling a bottle of pills before throwing them into his awaiting hands. Surely this couldn’t be a hangover? It isn’t uncommon for Dean to drink, yet venturing out alone for a night of drinking and returning the next morning with a hangover? That is something he hasn’t done in years.

Eventually snapping out of my moment of thought, I walk over to where they both sit, Dean once again shoving food into his mouth. Noticing my presence, Dean perks up, a typical cheeky grin spreading across his face. He enthusiastically pulls out the vacant stool next to him, gesturing for me to take a seat. I can’t help but smile as he does so, especially when he places a kiss to my cheek. Sam has an expression of utter confusion on his face, glancing repetitively between the both of us. Shrugging my shoulders once Dean’s attention is once again directed at his waffles, supposing he did have a hangover, he wouldn’t normally be so cheerful.

Without looking in my general direction, Dean nudges a full plate of waffles topped with strawberries and an abundance of whipped cream towards me. A fork hangs between his middle and ring fingers, the platinum band that is placed on the latter of the two, shines under the fluorescent lighting. It is still an amazement that it hasn’t gotten scratched or required cutting off from his finger. Before we were married, the discussion of the ring was paramount, but Dean was set on wearing one. His reasoning being that without one it wouldn’t feel true. At his words my heart had fluttered in my chest and continues to do so every time I catch a glimpse of the precious metal on his hand. I take the fork, twirling between my own fingers, watching the rings on my own finger as I do so.

Both brothers delve into conversation about the current case we have been working as I tuck into the waffles that sit before me. Considering I haven’t eaten since before Dean’s disappearance last night, I suddenly find myself starving. Each bite an overwhelming sensation of sweetness and sugar. Every now and again, Dean switches his gaze to me, a soft smile on his lips as he observes me enjoying the food. I listen intently to the boys and the more I do, the more my appetite decreases, worry and concern settles in, sending a shiver through my body. The more Dean says about not remembering his night and his assumption of blacking out, the more I feel nauseous. Dropping the fork onto the plate, I push it as far away from me as I can.

As a distraction, I involve myself within the ongoing discussion.

“Dean, you seriously don’t remember anything about what happened to you last night?” He momentarily thinks over this before responding.

“Nope.” He runs his hands over his face, and it is then, that I truly see how tired he really is.

“Baby, why don’t we get you back to the motel so you can get some rest?” Like a child, Dean just nods his head in agreement, standing from the counter and making his way towards the exit.

“Did you pay?” Sam chimes in with the question as Dean passes him, the younger sibling now standing from his own stool.

“Oops, no. Right.” Myself and Sam make eye contact in that moment, both filled with concern for Dean. But for his sake, we say nothing, choosing to keep this between ourselves for the time being.

Once in the impala, it becomes clear that something is most definitely wrong with Dean. Starting with not putting the car into reverse, to forgetting the details of the current case. After a heated argument between the two brothers, it was settled upon that Sam would contact Rowena in the hopes of discovering the cause of Dean’s possible amnesia.

Back at the motel, Sam stays in the impala to call Rowena, away from the listening ears of his brother. The way that Dean wanders aimlessly from the parking lot to the building itself has me feeling uneasy. Even more so as I observe him approach the wrong room. Jogging over to him, I take him by the arm and swiftly guide him over to the correct door.

“All these dumps look the same.” Dean’s disgruntled demeanour would usually cause me to laugh, however, in this situation it’s not even close to cracking a smile.

“I know, baby. I know.” Tears are now threatening to spill as I open the motel room door. Clearing my throat, I advise Dean to go and take a shower to freshen up, then after get some well deserved sleep.

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind him, my façade breaks and the tears begin to fall. Putting on a brave face whilst watching the man I love slowly forgetting things that have occurred over the last few days, has taken a great toll on me. Like at Waldo’s, a wave of nausea hits me and it only forces me to bawl harder, sitting down on the unmade bed. Through the bathroom door, I can hear Dean undressing, his clothes hitting the cold linoleum floor. A moment of silence is followed by the wooden door opening a fraction.

“Hey, Y/N?” I hurriedly wipe the fallen tears from my face.

“Hmm?” There he stands in the open doorway of the rundown bathroom, torso bare, a nervous expression on his face.

“When,” he frowns before speaking again, “when did I get a tattoo?” Towards the end of his question he perks up, amusement clear in his tone. With his hands, he gestures to the anti-possession mark on his upper chest. At this, I can’t help the small smile that appears on my face, yet at the same time, it fills me with dread.

Standing from my place on the bed, I cross the room to stand in front of him, taking his face in my hands.

“It’s your anti-possession mark, Dean. That,” I take my right hand, placing my fingertips to the black ink marking his skin, “protects you from being possessed by a demon.” I refrain from bringing up the period in which Dean was a demon for a time. Glancing back to his face, I realise that he looks shocked.

“D-demons are real?” At his words, I can no longer stop the tears from tumbling down my cheeks. Again, I break down as I pull his body closer, holding him against me tightly.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“No matter what happens, I will always love you. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. That look of worry, concern, all of that. You’ve got nothing to worry about, everything’s going to work out fine.”

Dean’s hands are on my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears. Placing a chaste kiss to my forehead, he again holds me tighter, whispering forever promises of his love.

It has only been a day and a half since Dean’s ‘amnesia’ began taking full force. Yet, I will trade anything to go back to yesterday. With the arrival of Rowena and the discovery that Dean was under a witch’s spell, things soon began to take a turn for the worst.

Awaking this morning to the sight of Dean twisting his wedding band around his finger takes the air out of my lungs. He sits on the opposite side of the motel room, the room that is scattered with sticky notes labelling a majority of the items within it. Long hours of research and tracking to find the witch responsible for this spell, had me falling asleep uncomfortably in the armchair by the door. Dean had occupied the bed, falling into a deep slumber by ten o’clock.

“Why do I have this?” My worst fears have finally come true and as Dean raises his head, my heart breaks completely in two. As usual, I cannot bring myself to lie to him or cause him to feel guilty.

“It’s, erm, it’s a wedding ring.” A scoff leaves his mouth as I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Am I married?” Snapping my head up to look at him, he realises what he has said. “Am I married to you?”

Half-heartedly, I raise my left hand, indicating the two rings that situate themselves on my ring finger, trying with all my might to not cry again.

“Well, I’m glad it’s you. You’re beautiful.”

A smile is all I can bring to give him in return, instead I excuse myself and retreat to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. In the safety of the small tiled room, I cry until there is nothing left to cry.

Exiting the bathroom, I am met with the sight of Dean, Sam and Rowena, crowded at the door. Before I can ask what is happening, I am interrupted by Dean’s rough voice.

“Who’s this?”

And there it is.

Deciding that it would be best for Rowena to take care of Dean, with no close emotional attachment to him, I accompany Sam to deal with the witches. The agreement was that if Sam did not return within half an hour, I was to enter as back up. Hence me now sneaking my way through an open window on the ground floor of the house.

But with the thought of Dean’s safety and wellbeing on my mind, I am greatly distracted.

Although I have many years of experience with hunting witches, this coven is one of the strongest I have encountered yet, and I am unprepared. Proving true, when I come face to face with the female of the group. Before I can aim my gun, she has me spiralling across the room, into a wooden bookcase. My vision is blurry and my head feels heavy as I try and raise my gun in her direction. But it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. A final unsuccessful attempt of moving has me drained and I succumb to the darkness that is trying to overtake my vision and mind.

“Hey, Y/N?” Everything sounds far away as I come around. The feeling of someone’s hand on my cheek grounding me. “Y/N! Hey, can you hear me?”

“De?” That was definitely Dean’s voice.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Opening my eyes fully, I am met with the sight of a smiling Dean, although his eyes are filled with worry.

“You remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, how could I forget my beautiful wife?” A laugh escapes me alongside some tears, although this time happy tears.

“Don’t I always promise you, that no matter what, everything is going to be alright?” I nod in agreement. “And don’t I always promise you that I will always love you?”

“Yeah, Dean, you do.”

He pulls me into a hug, although the most uncomfortable hug in the current position in which we are situated.

“And I’m glad I’m married to you. You’re beautiful.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean imagine #supernatural imagine #requests are open #fanfic #supernatural #amandas 2k writer and reader challenge #challenge #2k writer + reader challenge #writer challenge #supernatural writing challenge

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strawberriestyles · 4 years ago

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Chapter 9

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: This is what you’ve all been waiting for. ;) I really hope you enjoy. When you’ve finished, please send me some thoughts! About the chapter, about your life, about what’s going on in the world, anything. And also read this article about how to support black trans people! They are one of the most vulnerable populations right now. The article includes links to sign petitions and donate to funds. Love y’all. Xx

“Melody’s on her way home,” Josie said, continuing to scroll through her phone.

Harry wanted to go to bed. Josie had been here for nearly three hours and she had made herself right at home. Harry was tucked into the corner of the couch because she was spread across two and a half cushions, her head propped up on the sofa’s arm, her bare toes right beside him. She’d turned on a romantic comedy when she’d gotten here. It didn’t seem like she’d watched anything after the first ten minutes, and by now the movie had turned into an environmental documentary, but still she kept the remote shielded beneath her shoulder. If she had been a babysitter, she would have been the worst babysitter ever. No more than three sentences had passed between them, and one of the sentences had been when Harry finally gave up and asked her to help him to the bathroom just a few minutes ago.

So, when he realized that Josie was speaking to him and he processed her words, he let out one of the loudest sighs of his life.

Josie raised her eyebrows and glanced at him over the top of her phone. “You’re not having fun with me?”

“No,” he deadpanned.

“Good.” She smiled sarcastically at him. “I’m actually very entertaining but I heard you’ve been mean to Melody.”

“‘M not mean to—”

“Yes, you are. Cut her a fucking break, okay?”

His nostrils flared. “Why can’ everyone stay out of our fuckin’ business?”

“Something about you just invites people into your business, I guess.” She grinned at him again and her toes brushed the side of his leg and he wanted her and her stinking feet out.

The door cracked open and Harry heard Melody mutter, “Fuck, it’s cold out.” He twisted toward her. She was shivering, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up and her hat concealing the top of her face. She shuffled further into the apartment and her muscles seemed tight. Harry could relate. He knew that even if he only took a few hits, soreness kicked in almost immediately after a match, as adrenaline withdrew from his limbs. His mind could finally relax during that withdrawal, but his body couldn’t, and Melody seemed to be the same.

“So?” Josie asked. She finally sat up and her feet were gone and Harry was grateful.

“I won,” Melody said as she pulled back her hood. Harry tried not to wince when he caught sight of the spot blushing at the corner of her jaw. Or the split in that same cheek, or the way she was pressing her tongue to the inside of her lip, like she was licking at blood. Josie didn’t react to her face at all.

“Well done, trooper,” she congratulated. She stood up and grabbed her jacket from the edge of the coffee table.

“Where’s Bea?” Harry asked, glancing between the two of them. He wasn’t enthusiastic about Melody having traveled home by herself after having spent all her energy.

“I’m meeting her at the club,” Josie told him. “You kids have fun.”

Harry frowned and Josie was out of the apartment before she’d even zipped up her coat.

“Were you nice?” Melody asked after a moment.

“‘M always nice.”

She let out a dry laugh and peeled off her sweatshirt. “If only,” she muttered.

Harry licked his lips as she tugged her beanie off her head. Her hair was tangled and wild and her fingers snagged in it as she tried to comb through the strands.

“Let me look at your face,” Harry said.

“It looks bad but it doesn’t hurt nearly—”

“Just let me look, Mel.” His voice was tender, not angry, and she dropped her things on the edge of the rug as she made her way toward him. She perched herself on the cushion beside him. He watched her arrange her torso cautiously, trying to avoid twisting herself too much, until her face hovered just next to his shoulder.

“Be gentle with me,” she whispered, and he was sure she wasn’t just referring to handling her injuries.

Harry caught her chin and tilted her head, peering at the bruise at the back of her jaw. He grazed over it to test how raised her skin was and she squirmed against his hold. The split in her cheek wasn’t bleeding but it looked fresh and sore and irritated, deeper than he had expected when he’d first glimpsed it from across the room. It was close to needing stitches, he thought, but had just missed the level of severity which would have left a lasting scar on her face.

“That one’s nasty,” Harry mumbled.

“You should see her,” Melody said, and she grinned as widely as she could without bothering her cut. Harry saw thin blood smeared over one of her bottom teeth. He peeled back her lower lip and found a deep gouge on the inner side. “It wasn’t even from a hit,” Melody explained, pulling the injured lip from his fingers and into her mouth. “I bit it.”

“Brutal.”

Melody smiled again and shifted toward the edge of the cushions. “I’m gonna shower. Do you wanna get into bed?”

“Sure.”

She helped him off the sofa and they moved slower than usual as she attempted to balance his body weight with her tired and aching muscles. Eventually, she sat him on the mattress and helped him slip out of his clothes. He sighed when he was left in just his boxers and she was struggling out of her leggings, and then she fled the room. The shower sounded from across the apartment, but it was mere minutes before she was back, clutching a towel around herself, her hair still tied back and dry, save for lingering beads of water.

“Yeh need some ointment and somethin’ frozen,” Harry ordered as she stepped into a pair of underwear. She gave him a skeptical look.

“You’re going to give me advice? Seriously?”

“Just go get them, Mel.”

She rolled her eyes, trading her towel for a billowing t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear, which she yanked over her head as she wandered out of the room. When she returned with a gel-filled ice pack pressed gingerly to her blossoming bruise, Harry motioned for her. “C’mere.”

She climbed onto the bed and pulled the lamp across her night table, closer to them, as she settled on her knees just below the pillows. She placed a tube of antibiotic ointment into his outstretched palm and he twisted the cap off.

“Your lip stop bleedin’?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Harry squeezed a generous amount of ointment out onto his fingertip. He settled the heel of his hand just beside where she held the ice pack and dabbed at the split in her skin. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that they looked almost painful themselves.

“‘M sorry,” Harry breathed.

Melody shook her head almost imperceptibly. “It’s not your fault—”

“No, ‘m sorry,” he whispered again. She felt his lips flutter against one of her eyelids, then the other. His hand rested over hers, over the chill of ice against her skin. “I don’ wanna watch yeh fight, but ‘m sorry.”

Melody dropped her hand. The ice pack fell into Harry’s lap, onto his bare thigh, but his gasp was cut off as she folded their lips together. She tucked a hand—knuckles still branded with the memory of her wraps—into the longer sections of his new haircut. Harry tasted metallic blood on her tongue but he still clasped at her neck and kissed her back.

The bed creaked. Beneath his hands, Melody’s skin shifted, her limbs angling toward him, her muscles contracting at his touch. Her mouth turned fierce and bruising, needy. Harry couldn’t count the number of times that he had kissed her, but in all those times she had never felt like she was so desperate for the pressure of his lips. He met her in the middle, sliding his tongue across hers, careful not to touch her injured cheek.

Until she straddled his thighs.

“Stop,” he mumbled against her feverish mouth, against her warm and slick lips. “Mel, no.”

“Why?” She pulled back, settled her butt into the gap between his outstretched legs, and lowered her hands to his hips, where his once tight boxers now sat loosely against his skin. Her breaths shook. “Harry, did I do something? Are you still mad at me?”

“No, love. No, ‘m not mad.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

He watched her watching him. Fresh color painted her cheeks, unlike even the cold of deep winter could bring out. She was teething at her swollen lips, anxious, impatient. He could have swallowed her whole.

“Nothin’,” he mumbled half-heartedly.

“Harry, tell me what’s going on. Please. If you’re just not in the mood, that’s fine, but if there’s something else... If you’re not—if you don’t want—”

“What?” Harry let out an exasperated breath. “Yeh think I don’ want you? Melody.” His voice held a note of anger, frustration condensing into something larger, stronger.

Melody only looked more confused. “Well, then what? If you want me, then—”

“I can’ even bloody walk, Melody,” he grated out. It felt like his throat was beginning to close up. “Yeh think I can fuck you?”

They both fell silent. Harry felt the backs of Melody’s knees where they rested against his thighs, hot and heavy and pressurized. Her fingertips danced along the tattoos at his pelvis and he could’ve curled up right there, folded himself up until there was nothing left. He looked away from the unbridled shock in her face.

“You think being on top is gonna bother me,” she said as realization dawned. It was not a question.

“It will.”

“What? It won’t, Harry.”

“Bullshit.” His hands closed around her wandering fingers. She was looking at him like she always did when she got into these moods, and it wasn’t good for his head.

“Are you kidding? It won’t,” she repeated, more fiercely. “You act like I’ve never done it before. Trust me. I don’t even know where you would get that idea.”

He didn’t reply, but he let go of her hands and they fell flat against his chest, one sliding up to hold the side of his neck.

"The first time you made me come,” Melody began, and her voice was already wavering, shaky, “it was with just your fingers. That’s never happened to me before.” She pressed her thumb into his jaw. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he met her gaze again. She bit roughly at the reddened skin of her bottom lip and shook her head. “You make it easy, Harry. I can get wet just looking at you, just thinking about you.”

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed. His head fell back against the bottom of the window’s ledge. His dick was twitching in his boxers, despite his anxiety, despite his apprehension, and he closed his eyes. Melody never talked like this and it wasn’t fair.

She was kissing his neck and her thighs were sliding forward against his and when had he started sweating? His fingers found the softest bits of her hips. She was whispering to him like out of a dream.

“Wanna ride your cock, Harry. Please, let me?”

“Christ. Mel.” He was trying to maintain control and he was losing. Badly. She was saying everything he wanted to hear and he was remembering the feel of her on his birthday, when his wrists had been tied up and he’d been completely at her mercy.

She grasped his wrist now and dragged one of his hands away from her hip, lower, beneath the hem of her baggy t-shirt. His knuckles brushed the lining of her panties and he was already hard for her but the damp fabric made him ache. He was a goner.

“Jesus Christ.” He flipped his hand over to press his entire palm against her dewy underwear and bent his neck forward. He closed his mouth over the soft cotton of her shirt, where he could see one of her hardened nipples straining against the material, and she arched toward him, her breaths grating in her throat.

Melody’s fingers curled around Harry’s hair again. She was grinding down against his hand. His tongue, even through her shirt, felt rough against her sensitive nipple, and his skin felt hot as he reached up her sides, rolling her tee up her torso. She gripped the hem and pulled it over her head when he disconnected his mouth from her.

Harry’s eyes devoured Melody’s body as she tossed her clothes off to the side. He’d seen her naked only the night before but he wasn’t yet used to this toned, fuller version of her. He licked his lips and she was already peeling at his boxers, wiggling them under his ass and down his thighs, batting the forgotten ice pack off of the bed. She gave up on his underwear quickly, when his dick was freed, and then she was kicking off her own soaked panties.

“Missed you,” she breathed as she climbed back into his lap, kissing down his jaw. “Missed you so fucking much.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, felt the length of her body pressing against him, the heat of her. He kissed her with equal fervor when she found his mouth. Strands of her hair were stuck to their lips but neither of them cared. Harry’s hands were splayed over her ribs and they slipped back to press into her spine as she curved her breasts into his chest.

“Mel,” he rushed when he felt her core sliding along the underside of his cock. He choked on his next breath. “Condom. Need a condom.”

“Uh-uh,” she hummed. “Don’t need one. I’m taking birth control.” Her elbows settled atop his shoulders, fingers combing through his hair. “Please,” she added. “Wanna feel you come.”

Harry’s entire body was on fire. He’d never heard her this forward, this confident and deliberate in her wants. She seemed almost liberated. And she wanted him raw. He groaned again, feeling sweat bead along the perimeter of his forehead. Melody was shifting impatiently in his lap,

“Got me hard, love,” Harry growled finally, delivering a hard kiss to her chin before his mouth dragged down her throat. She tasted like soap but she smelled so familiar and he was aching, painful to be inside of her. “Better fuck me like yeh mean it.”

She whimpered and Harry’s head was spinning with that noise as she reached down to slip his cock inside of her. And she did it again, that desperate, throaty sound, as she lowered her hips until she was full of him. Then she paused and planted her forehead on his shoulder.

“Oh, Jesus—fuck. Wha's wrong?” Harry mumbled. His fingers were curled into the skin on her back and his pulse was racing already, like he was finishing up a marathon, though they hadn’t even started.

“Nothing. Feels good,” Melody choked out. “It’s just...been a while.” Her thighs tightened against his hips and he wanted to fuck her so badly, to throw her back against the mattress, that he had to bite his lip until it hurt enough to divert his thoughts. He physically could not fuck her. Even if it didn’t bother her, it made him shake with frustration. His hands drifted down to her backside and pressed into her skin—just a hint. He wanted her to move. Needed it.

She swallowed and tucked her ankles back under her thighs so she was on her knees. Even with such a small movement she could feel the shift of Harry inside her, feel how deep he sat and how he stretched her, and she gasped. It felt like their first time all over again. But she rose up on her knees and sank back down.

“Good as yeh hoped?” Harry hissed between his teeth. She was wet. Wetter than she’d felt on his hand, through her panties, even when she’d been pressed up against him.

“Better,” she assured him. Her body still ached with the after-effects of her fight, but nothing could have hurt enough for her to stop. Her very blood was singing.

“Like yeh mean it,” Harry reminded her in a rocky whisper that tickled her ear.

Melody rolled her hips in an achingly purposeful movement. Harry slid an arm back up around her waist and hummed brokenly as she sank herself down on him, quick and needy.

“Fuck,” Melody breathed as she felt the tip of him nudge a place deep inside her that hadn’t been reached in months. She grappled with his hair, her fingers slipping out of the short strands before she could catch a handful and pull his head back. She lifted her mouth to meet his, messy and sharp and wet, teeth and tongue. A mirrored moan passed between the kiss, from one mouth to the other and back again, as she settled into a rocking pace that squeaked the bed frame beneath them.

“Yeh hurt?” Harry mumbled against her mouth. She was wincing almost imperceptibly, subconsciously as she nibbled on his lip.

“Good,” she whispered back. Sweat was gathering on the backs of her thighs and her skin was slick where it met Harry’s. “Hurts in a good way.”

His hips jerked upward of their own accord as he felt her clenching around him, somehow impossibly tighter than before. His head fell to the side and Melody’s lips disconnected from his with a resounding smack.

“Don’t,” she gasped. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Too much,” she grated out.

“Wasn’ on purpose, Mel,” he told her with a weak chuckle. He felt like he was overheating. The lamp was suddenly too much light and the moon felt like it could burn him with the ferocity of the sun.

Melody was forcing herself to rock steadily on top of him, careening forward until she met his pelvis and there was delicious pressure as her clit rubbed up against him. His skin was sticky there, but he was pulling her, pushing, encouraging her. And her lower stomach was tight, still aching, but beginning to spasm.

“Harry,” she muttered. “I need to...need to slow down. I can’t—”

“Yeh can.”

She shook her head and then dropped it back to the slope of his shoulder, huffing against his skin. The outline of his hand was firm against her ass, guiding her.

“No, no, I’m gonna come already.”

“Then come,” he rasped into her ear. “And yeh can come again to finish me off. Feel so fuckin’ good on me. Yeh want that?” He cut himself off with a wild, throaty moan at the way her body was tensing against him, how her hips convulsed and broke her rhythm. “Want me to come inside yeh?”

“Yes,” she rushed. “Yes, wanna feel it.”

“Let me feel yeh first. Come on me.”

Melody was gasping as he whispered into her ear. There was a high-pitched whine that caught in her throat with every breath. His arm tightened around her waist until she could feel its pressure on her ribs, limiting her air.

“Show me how much yeh missed me, Mel. How much yeh missed my cock.”

She was finishing before he had spit out the end of his sentence. Her fingers bit into his scalp as she writhed in his lap, chanting his name against his neck. Harry’s body was twitching with the pulse of her walls.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted, wrapping a hand around her ponytail as a sort of anchor. He was close, too. But he really wanted that second orgasm from her. She deserved it.

“Oh God, fuck, fuck.” Melody’s voice trembled as Harry yanked her head back and forced her to keep riding him with the grip he had on her waist, though she hadn’t come all the way down yet. She was reaching back to clamp a hand above his knee as a point of balance when both of them heard a key in the door to the apartment.

The both of them fell deathly still when they heard muffled voices.

“It should be unlocked. Melody’s home.”

There was a girlish giggle as the door crashed into the wall just inside the kitchen. A harsh “sh” and then another louder giggle.

Harry let go of Melody completely and reached for the sheets, pulling them over his legs and up to her hips. She was shaking her head against his cheek, her breaths still heaving, hands tight against the nape of his neck.

“No, please don’t,” she whispered urgently, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I don’t wanna stop. Want you to finish.”

“Mel—”

“Josie, you’ll wake them up.”

Melody shifted in Harry’s lap and his hands flew to her hips to hold her still.

“Mel,” he pressed.

“Please,” she begged. “Come inside me, Harry. I want it. Want your cum.”

He swallowed almost painfully and blinked up at the ceiling. His throat was strained and his whisper cracked as he tipped his head forward. “Gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

His hips betrayed him as she breathed another desperate “please” and wiggled atop him.

Someone slammed a cupboard in the kitchen and Melody lifted a few inches before sinking back down. Harry was focusing all of his energy on keeping quiet. Melody was grinding on his dick, slower, to prevent the squeak of her bed, but deliberately. And he was seeing stars.

His teeth closed on the slope of Melody’s shoulder, his eyes watering as he watched the doorway, cock pulsing as he emptied everything he had inside of her. She gasped into his ear, the quietest intake of air. His fingers pressed into her skin as his resolve slipped and he drove up into her once, at the end of his high, with a sudden wave of strength. He finished and, miraculously, neither Bea nor Josie had tried to peek around the open door. He could hear their voices fading across the living room as they retreated to Bea’s bedroom. The click of her door was sweet.

“Christ,” Harry grunted through his gritted teeth when he had disconnected from Melody’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning forward to rest against him. “I’m sorry but also I’m not.” She took a moment to fill her lungs and then shook her head disbelievingly. “That felt so good.”

Harry closed his eyes, still gasping, his head propped back against the windowsill. He dragged his fingers through Melody’s ponytail and chuckled weakly into her cheek.

“What the fuck are yeh thinkin’, Mel? Yeh want Bea to—”

“I wasn’t,” she cut in. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted...yeah.” She swallowed around her words and then pressed a slow kiss to Harry’s jaw.

“Well, yeh got it, didn’ yeh?”

Melody laughed and then nodded before she began to slide out of his lap. She bit into her lip as the stretch of him receded, and she felt him trickling down her leg. She hoisted herself off of the bed.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom and I’ll bring a cloth to clean you up.”

“Oi,” Harry called when she was at the door. “Aren’ yeh gonna put somethin’ on?”

“What? Why? Bea—”

“Likes girls,” Harry finished.

Melody snapped her mouth shut and struggled to hold in her giggles. Harry could see her pressing her thighs together and he slid down the bed a few inches, his chest tightening at the sight.

“Do you want me to put something on?” she asked him after a few seconds. There was still a hint of amusement in her voice, but she seemed more collected.

“Yes.”

She sighed and collected the shirt he’d worn that day from the floor, yanking it over her head and then rushing from the room without another word. He could hear the water running in the bathroom and then she was back less than two minutes later. She tossed a damp cloth in Harry’s direction and he caught it with a lazy hand.

“Thanks.”

Melody climbed back into bed over Harry as he cleaned up, shuffling the rumpled covers around until she could fit her legs beneath them. She waited for him to fling the dirty cloth into her hamper, tug up his briefs, and then switch off her lamp before she snuggled down and laid her head on her pillow. Harry shifted beside her, invisible as her eyes adjusted to the new darkness. She felt his shoulder graze her wrist.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“What?”

“Thank you. For trusting me.”

Harry was silent. Melody felt for his hand beneath the sheets and laced her fingers through his. She leaned in to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his cheek, and was reminded so vividly of the very first night they had shared a bed, when he’d let her help him home and clean up his wounds. When he had first kissed her. Though, that night, there had been more layers of clothing and space to separate them while they slept.

Melody settled her cheek against Harry’s pillow, just above his shoulder, where she could feel the ends of his hair tickling her nose. “I want you always,” she whispered, “any way I can get you. Please, remember that.”

Harry took a deep breath and squeezed her hand in his.

***

Melody woke in the middle of the night with a shriek and a jerk of her body that shook the entire bed. The room was dark, nearly pitch black, and the lack of sight did nothing to ease her twinged nerves.

“Mel?”

She toppled sideways, away from the fingers that grazed her side, and clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle another cry. Her heart was racing beneath her ribs, pounding so hard she was sure her bones would splinter. Her limbs ached with the quick flow of adrenaline through her veins.

“Hey, hey. Mel.”

One moment she was standing over Harry’s motionless body, blood pooling around his head, sticking hair to his face, and the next she could see nothing but darkness. But there was no separation between those two spaces, only terror.

She shook again as the fingers curled around her elbow, but they were familiar, hot and rough on her skin. She blinked into the black but couldn’t make out the face leaning over her.

“‘S me. Wha’s wrong?”

Melody slipped her hand further up her face to her eyes, where tears had already collected and begun to spill over. Harry spoke again, but she didn’t hear what he said. She let out a faint sob.

“Hey, c’mere.”

Harry’s other hand slipped beneath her shoulder and he was able to pull her upright. She was stiff beneath his touch, her bones set and her muscles coiled under her skin. He settled her cheek into his collarbone and wrapped his arms around her.

“Shh,” he whispered, “yeh’re okay. Yeh’re here with me. Yeh’re okay.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, but they sounded familiar. He saw a faint glimpse of himself curled up on his own bed back in England, his mother holding him as she whispered similar words into the night. This reaction felt almost instinctual. “I’ve got yeh. Shh.”

The living room light burst into life and when Harry squinted in that direction, he found Bea in the doorway of Melody’s room, folded up inside a robe. She took a moment to survey the scene. Melody was draped across Harry’s chest, Harry wrapped around her like a blanket or a shield—a cocoon, even. Bea took a quiet step backward and disappeared.

Harry buried his face in Melody’s hair and stroked her damp cheek. She was shaking in his arms, her panting breaths thick and staggered against his skin, but eventually her fingers curled around his wrist, where she could feel the steady beat of his pulse.

Bea reappeared, a glass of water in her hand, and she tiptoed across the floor to set it on the night table before giving Harry an approving nod. Then she hurried from the room, shutting the door with a soft click and leaving them once more in darkness.

“Take a breath, Mel.”

Melody let out another panicked sob and Harry clutched her closer.

“No, no,” he whispered. “Breathe, baby, c’mon. What d’yeh need from me?”

Melody gasped a sharp inhale and shook her head vehemently. Instead of answering, she fumbled her way closer to Harry, until she was in his lap and she was pinching his leg with her hip just right to cut off his circulation. He shifted her minutely, just until she was between his thighs, and then pressed a kiss to the top of her burning forehead. He could already feel her respiration beginning to even out as an arm looped around his waist, fingers grappling at his back.

“Okay?” he asked as he smoothed back hair from her ruined ponytail.

Melody heaved a sigh into the crook of Harry’s neck and he felt her nod almost imperceptibly. It could have been hours that he sat with her in that darkness, patiently waiting for her to calm herself down, but it was only a few minutes. And then she pulled his hand away from her cheek and sat up straighter, swiping at the tear tracks that stained her face.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, blinking blindly, “for waking you up and...you know.”

“Mel, don’ apologize to me for that.”

“Well, I didn’t think the second night you were here—” She cut herself off and ran her fingers quickly through her hair, pulling the loose tie from the ends and losing it in the sheets.

“‘S fine, love. Don’ worry about it.” Harry shifted a hand forward until his knuckles brushed her calf. “That happen a lot?”

“No...less this past month.”

Harry reached his other hand out and stumbled over the table for the glass of water Bea had left. “Drink this,” he suggested, holding it out for Melody to take. When he’d heard her take a few sips, he allowed himself to lean back against the wall and sift his fingers through his hair. “D’yeh wanna talk about it?”

Melody swallowed another mouthful of water. “No,” she said, before chugging the remainder of the glass and then reaching to set it back on the table. “I really, really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Harry grunted. Melody clambered out of his lap and laid down, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She was shivering, she realized, and she tried to control the vibration of her body, but it just made her limbs ache.

“Yeh wanna go back to sleep? Just like that?” Harry’s eyes and the receding cloud cover finally cooperated enough for him to see the outline of Melody’s features. Her jaw was working, her eyelids fluttering. He shifted back down the mattress, laying on his side, and reached up to turn her face toward him.

“Yeh’re still shakin’,” he observed, running his hand down to her shoulder and tugging her body closer to him. “Let me hold yeh.”

Melody said nothing as Harry laid an arm across her and tucked her into his chest, settling his chin against her hair. Uncomfortable chills were running through her limbs and she felt the heat of Harry radiating through the bedsheets. She felt more vulnerable than ever before and it was making her eyes wet all over again.

“Melody. Stop holdin’ your breath.”

“I’m not. I—”

“You are. ‘M right here, love.” Harry kissed her head and sighed at the closeness of her. “I’ve got yeh, okay?”

“Okay.” Melody blinked furiously to hold back another onslaught of tears.

“Try to sleep.”

They laid together for a long while like that, Melody blinking up at the ceiling and Harry’s breath stirring her hair, his hand occasionally stroking her arm through the blankets wrapped around her. Her mind was racing, but eventually she was lulled to sleep, and Harry followed, an hour later, when he was convinced that this time her sleep was peaceful.

Chapter 10

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles x ofc #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles ferocity

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mrslackles · 5 years ago

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We all gotta tough it out sometimes.

𝟤𝓍𝟢𝟥 -- 𝑅ɪᴏ’𝓈 𝐿ᴏᴏᴋʙᴏᴏᴋ

Yes, Rio, we all do have to tough it out sometimes. That’s exactly what I told myself before having to watch this episode’s tennis scene again. But, I digress.

Look #1

Oh, this outfit.

I look at this outfit and I can see us holding hands, walking on the beach, our toes in the sand. I can see us on the countryside sitting on the grass, laying side by side. All I want you to do is be my love.

It’s just a plain black t-shirt, but it’s a lot more fitted than his 1x10 black t-shirt, actually straining a little around his biceps. The double black leather arm bands are present, but with no visible rings. Then we have his new S2 pair of shoes, and jeans with my preferred silhouette on him -- not as tight as in the last episode.

Also all the shades of black match each other very well, which I really appreciate. Let me tell you, that shit is not easy.

I do have a question, though, about what season Rio and Rio alone is in? Beth and Marcus are dressed for cold weather and he’s out here like it’s the first day of summer. Sir -- what is happening?

But oh, the tricep action is lovely, and this shot even shows us that Rio trains for the V-shape upper body and, y’know, it’s whatever. Who’s impressed by nice shoulders? Not me.

Literally everyone in this shot is dressed for the cold, what is this dumbass actually doing in his thin t-shirt.

8.5/10

Look #2

I have... so many questions.

This scene is infamous for its WTF quality, but honestly my main horror on rewatch is -- he has the wristbands?? Not only is he playing tennis, at a club, in that outfit, but he also has the wristbands with the club’s insignia on it?? I--

That’s the world’s furthest-away booty shot the entire outfit, bringing Rio’s shoe count up to three.

We also get a glimpse of another tattoo -- a tiny one that he has on the inside of his forearm.

Honestly, I think we should all just be grateful that we were not subjected to seeing this man in shorts. I do not know if I could have recovered from that.

But, then -- the jacket. Good grief, the jacket.

This jacket rips away every thought of broad shoulders and V shapes that the t-shirt so graciously gave us earlier, but I mean... at least it matches the pants? And proves he owns another jacket? Honestly, I don’t know what is going on here, but it does prove that Rich Bitch Rio officially exists and I expect to see evidence of that in his wardrobe from here on in.

We do get to see him drink tea again, very weirdly, too, gulping it down like it’s some kind of cold beverage. But wbk Rio doesn’t know how to drink things like a normal person.

I did award extra points for the return of the tea, but then they had to show that he’s wearing this tennis bag that’s like a thousand times bigger than his entire body and I had to immediately subtract them again.

I do hope this sparked some good and there are Guitar!Player Rio AUs out there in the world.

5/10

Bonus: Marcus

We know Rio is very enthusiastic about kid fashion. Some parents toss their kids a t-shirt and jeans and call it a day but, oh no, not Rio.

Even for a day at the park, his son must be in a button-up shirt, perfectly prim open collar and a sweater (in shades of blue that perfectly complement one another).

Also, because the shirt and sweater aren’t formal enough for an outdoor playdate, I guess, Marcus also needs a slimline pair of khaki pants.

His shirt isn’t tucked into it though because, duh, that’s not how daddy wears his shirts.

Rio: Damn, I did a good job.

10/10

#NBC Good Girls #Manny Montana #Rio's Fits #Good Girls Bad Garments #I'm sorry this got so long #I actually thought it was going to be such a short one #but then I had so many Feelings and there were so many angles #also I can't actually deal with Look 1 #also in the Rio Hall of Fame

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the-second-circle-ffxiv · 4 years ago

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LFRP - Ayame Sasaki

NAME: Ayame Sasaki (Aya-hime) ALIAS/NICKNAME: Aya, Ayame Homura (Misaki Sanada, Ai Kurosawa, Kaori Ishida and several other aliases, used during the jobs.) AGE: 19 NAMEDAY: 4th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon RACE: Au ra (Raen) GENDER: Female SEXUALITY: Pansexual MARITAL STATUS: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

HAIR: Long and straight, lilac hair reaches halfway down her back. EYES: Bright pink (no limbal rings) HEIGHT: 4′9′’ BUILD: Petite and rather doll-like DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Huge snake and cherry blossoms tattooed onto Aya’s back in eastern fashion, running over her hips on the left, and down onto her thigh. She also has three cherryblossoms tattooed on the bottom of her right foot. COMMON ACCESSORIES: Golden jewelry, a set of kunai, strapped onto her left thigh and a small flashbang, made by her younger sister, Bella.

Personal ––– –

PROFESSION: Phantom thief HOBBIES/INTERESTS: Painting, reading, shopping, theatre, tea ceremonies and aroma therapy. LANGUAGES: Hingan and basics of common RESIDENCE: Homura household in Shirogane BIRTHPLACE: Sasaki manor, Kugane FEARS: Poverty and humiliation

Relationships ––– -

SPOUSE: None CHILDREN: None PARENTS: Asagi Homura (adoptive mother) SIBLINGS: Ainu Wanyuudo & N’bella Bhlero (adoptive sisters) OTHER RELATIVES: Silke Doomflare (adoptive aunt), Kojiro Homura (adoptive uncle), Muneshige Homura (adoptive granpa), Okuni Homura (adoptive grandma), the deceased / lost Sasaki clan. PETS: Two pink moths, Yumeka and Tsukiko. Because of relative short lifespan of a moth, she tends to just replace the dead with new ones, which will inherit the names of their predecessors.

Traits ––– -

extroverted / introverted / in between disorganized / organised / in between close minded / open-minded / in between calm / anxious / in between disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless / in between patient / impatient / in between outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between empathetic / unempathetic / in between optimistic/ pessimistic / in between traditional / modern / in between hard-working / lazy / in between cultured / uncultured / in-between loyal / disloyal / in between faithful / unfaithful / in between

Additional information ––– –

SMOKING HABIT: Rarely DRUGS: Never ALCOHOL: Occasionally

RP Hooks ––– –

Phantom thief of Kugane An priceless jewel necklace disappeared in the middle of tea ceremony you held for your important business partners, with only a calling card and a cherry blossom left on its wake? Or maybe an old heirloom katana catched your eye, but the current owner is less willing to part with it? Aya’s main income comes from stealing (liberating) valuables, and selling them on to be sold on black markets. Maybe something got stolen from you? Maybe you need something stolen? Or maybe you are running a black market, and happen to be in need of her services.

A teahouse regular Aya loves to spend her time in high-class teahouses and theatres. Maybe you catched a glimpse of an elegently dressed, pale auri woman, when visiting such events.

The princess of lost Sasaki family The Sasaki family used to run a bathhouse in Kugane. While being one of wealthiest families in the city, the source of the wealth was not as much the bathhouse, but ties to local yakuza. To strenghten these bonds, young Ayame was to be wed with the son of said yakuza family. Not long after the date for bonding ceremony was decided, an anonymous letter to sekiseigumi shed light on several crimes, supposedly committed by the Sasaki family. After trials, the leaders of Sasaki family were executed, while the others lost their wealth and standing in the city, being expelled from Kugane. Everyone except young Ayame, who as orphaned minor, was not seen responsible for the crimes of her parents. A local monster slayer, Asagi Homura adopted young Ayame just some time after. Maybe you are someone with a link to late Sasaki family? Maybe one of the yakuza family, she was supposed to be married into.

What I do and what I won’t ––– –– –

Darker themes (violence, gore, torture, abuse, drugs etc.) are totally okay, as long as the partner is 20+, and we have a mutual agreement about things!

Even though I like darker themes, Im very much up for just some light, slice of life-RP too! So dont let that stop you from reaching out! :3

No plots that will end up killing my character. Events that will leave scars or permanent injuries (physical or mental) are okay, as long as you talk to me first! 🖤

No ERP for the sake of it. Im married, and have no interest in ERP altogether. Some exceptions may be made, if its important for the plot, but overall, I prefer “fade to black”.

Any racism, nazism, homo- transphobia etc. wont be tolerated! Ever.

Please, keep the IC and OOC thingies separate!!!

About the mun ––– –– –

You can call me Reine. Im a disaster housewife, tattoo enthusiast, bat-lover and a part time writer!

Im a HUGE horror movie & Soulsborne-fan, and that usually shows on my characters too! ^^’ So anything along those lines, and Im in! 🖤

Time Zone: Eastern european (Im a night-owl though, so while it effects on my active hours, its not TOO bad.)

English is not my first language, so answers may sometimes be bit slower than from native english speakers, but bear with me!

If you see me around in game, come and say “hi”! Im always up for little RP, or just casual ooc chatter! Sooo yeah. Come here, lets talk!! 🦇

Platforms: In game, Discord and Tumblr

Contact Information ––– –

Tumblr - the-second-circle-ffxiv (Main blog: lareine-kira) Server - Balmung, Crystal datacenter (Will gladly hop over onto other servers on Crystal for rp). Discord - On request

@mooglemeet @ffxiv-crystal-rp @balmungrp

#Ayame Sasaki #Phantom thief of Kugane #LFRP #Balmungrp

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 5 years ago

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May Be Home, Chapter 3 Word count this chapter: 1800 Catch up here: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Characters: au rockstar!Dean Winchester x OFC Sasha Song: Sounds of Someday, Radio Company Music

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, lots and lots of m/f sex in different ways (fingering, oral, penetrative) in different places (bed, table, car, shower), no condoms ever, enthusiastic consent, Daddy kink, language, lots of alcohol, sexy eating, etc

Sasha luxuriated in sleeping ridiculously late the next morning. Her dreams had been full of Dean. She had thoroughly enjoyed last night, but it left her wanting more.

She slipped her hand between her legs, figuring she could enjoy a little morning treat. She ran the memories of last night back through her mind, remembering Dean’s hands on her body and the taste of his lips on hers. Soon, she was breathing hard, sinking deep into her memories and fantasies.

Then the phone rang, and Sasha answered breathlessly. She immediately recognized Dean’s low, sleepy voice.

“Hey, sweetheart. How do you feel about pancakes?”

Had he really woken up thinking about her? Sasha was caught off guard and only managed to stammer out, “Yes.”

“Yes to pancakes?“ Dean chuckled. “Well, come on over. Oh, and I wanna see what you slept in.”

Sasha took a quick shower and applied a little bit of makeup before slipping back into her patterned yoga pants and white tank top. She was self-conscious about the way the yoga pants hugged her thick thighs and the slight swell of her stomach; she hadn't planned for Dean to see her this way. But she would do what he asked.

When Sasha knocked on the door, Dean swung it open eagerly. He was shirtless and wearing gym shorts slung low over his hips. Sasha’s gaze was drawn to the sleeve of tattoos that covered his left arm, starting at his collarbone and spreading down to his elbow and over his ribs. She knew he had ink, but she had never seen it all. Dean grinned and pulled her in close. She ran her fingers lightly over the patterns on his skin.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he drawled with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.

Sasha nodded, looking up into his face as he lowered his mouth and kissed her. He tasted like pancake syrup and coffee. She hummed and let her lips fall open against his. Dean kissed her like she was the only woman in the world. He kissed her until she was breathless.

Dean pulled back and looked at Sasha, a happy grin curling his lips.

"Come on, we can't let breakfast get cold.

He took her hand and led her to the table, where it looked like he had ordered most of the room service breakfast menu

"I didn't know what you liked, so..." He shrugged.

Sasha giggled. "Any of it would've been fine, thank you. But I see you took all the pancakes."

"That's okay, we can share."

Dean sat down and pulled her on top of him. She braced herself, not quite giving in to his embrace. With one strong arm, Dean scooped up her legs so she was completely resting on his lap. He slid the other arm around her waist. Sasha relaxed into his grasp, wrapping one arm loosely around his shoulders.

Dean used his free hand to fork up a bite of syrup-drenched pancake. He offered the first one to Sasha before taking the next one for himself. She thought the third bite, naturally, would be for her, but Dean took it at the last minute.

Sasha pouted just a little and leaned into him, pressing her full breasts against his bare chest. "Dean," she said. "It's not nice to tease."

"Oh, you mean like you're teasing me right now?"

Dean brought one hand up and dragged his palm across her breasts. Under the thin fabric of her white tank top, Sasha's nipples instantly grew hard. She felt a rush of wet arousal between her legs.

Dean pulled his hand away from her body and picked up a piece of bacon off his plate. He ate half of it in one big bite, and then fed the rest to her. Sasha made sure to lick his fingertips when she took it from him. Dean ran his thumb over his full lower lip. It was a ridiculously suggestive gesture, and Sasha shivered just a little.

Dean fixed his gaze on her, wolfish and hungry.

"Wow, baby girl," he said."You're soakin' wet. I can feel you all the way through to my leg."

Sasha answered, "You do that to me, Dean."

He grabbed her face and kissed her, and she wrapped both arms around his neck. Dean slipped his hands around her waist, up under her tank top. He pulled it up over her head, only breaking contact with her mouth for a moment, and her breasts tumbled free.

Dean cupped them in his hands, pushing them up and together.

"Oh, yeah, come to Daddy," he murmured, before burying his face in her ample cleavage.

He turned to take one nipple between his lips, licking and sucking until Sasha moaned. She ground her hips down on his lap, feeling him hard and thick between her legs.

Dean reached behind Sasha and, with one long arm, shoved everything to one side of the table. He patted the newly clear space in front of him.

"Hop up here, sweetheart," he commanded.

Sasha obeyed him.

With swift, sure motions, Dean pulled down her yoga pants and panties, running his warm palms over her legs, caressing her skin. He slid his hands up between her knees and pushed her thighs apart.

Sasha drew in a quick breath. She leaned back, bracing herself on her elbows. She vaguely heard dishes crash as Dean lifted her legs and placed one knee on each shoulder.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed. “You're so wet!" Dean leaned his face in and tasted her, licking quickly turning to swirling and sucking and - Sasha didn't even know - she couldn't separate one touch from another, but his mouth on her felt incredibly good.

She had woken up aroused, been interrupted by Dean's phone call, and had been nothing but turned on by him since. She was ready to get off, but Dean was taking his time.

Every time she got close, he backed off, slowed his touch. She was breathing hard, squirming in his grasp as her whole body wound tighter and tighter with desire.

"Please, Dean, please." She gasped.

He worked her faster with his tongue and then pressed the knuckles of his first two fingers into her, hard. The extra pressure was all it took for Sasha to come. She whined through gritted teeth as she unwound in a rush of pleasure on Dean's face. He worked her through her orgasm with steady pressure, continuing to lick her until she relaxed.

When Sasha's eyes fluttered open, she saw Dean looking up at her. His pupils were wide, his entire body tense with desire.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

After a moment, she nodded and slipped down to her feet.

With firm hands on her waist, Dean spun her around to face the table and bent her over. He slipped off his own shorts while he commanded, "Spread your legs for me, pretty girl." Sasha obeyed. She braced her arms on the table, pushing more plates onto the floor, but she didn't stop to care.

Dean guided his thick cock against her. Sasha tipped her hips up and leaned back to meet him. With one smooth motion of his strong thighs, Dean thrust into her and didn't stop until she had taken his full length.

He fucked her hard, slowly at first and then faster. Her panting gasps turned into moans. Dean's breath was quick.

He leaned over her and growled in her ear, "Come for me, baby. Be a good girl and come for Daddy."

He used his hand to tilt her hips up further, so he could drive in even deeper. That angle pushed her right over the edge.

Sasha screamed, a low open scream, as Dean pounded another orgasm out of her. Her hips were still shaking when he came with a loud sigh, catching himself on his forearms before he fell on top of her.

They both lay still, breathing hard, basking in the aftershocks of their pleasure.

Dean’s mouth was next to Sasha’s ear. “How do you like that, sweetheart?” He murmured. In response, Sasha could only sigh.

Dean stood up and pulled Sasha up, turning her to face him. Her knees were shaky and she slipped her arms around his neck. “You're such a good girl, going crazy for me like that,” he praised her.

Sasha smiled, still riding the high of back to back orgasms. "Dean, I can't help it. You're so good, you make me crazy."

That was what Dean wanted to hear, and a cocky grin crossed his face before he covered her face and neck with warm kisses. For just a moment, he held her. Sasha enjoying being in his embrace, his sweaty skin against hers. Then he let her go and handed her the clothing.

"Go back to your room," he told her. "Clean up and get something to eat, get some rest. I'll call for you later."

Sasha did what Dean said, going through the motions of showering and eating, but she couldn't rest. She laid back on her comfortable bed with her mind was racing.

Being with Dean Winchester had been incredible. Every single thing they had done together was better than the last, and, if Dean kept his word, they weren't done. Just being noticed by him, being this close to him, was the stuff of dreams. The fact that he was actually amazing in person, and seemed to love giving pleasure as much as he loved taking it, was a bonus.

Still, it felt hollow. She loved Dean, felt like she had seen glimpses of his soul in his music. But he didn’t love her, he didn’t even know her. It was unfair, but it was the reality of being with a star like Dean. He had called her endearments like “baby girl” and “sweetheart”- but did he even know her name? For Sasha, being here to please Dean wasn’t enough. She didn't expect to be treated like his girlfriend or to have him all to herself. But she wanted to be more than just a pretty face and available body.

Sasha wanted, no deserved, to be known. She had been special enough to catch his eye in the first place. She would show him just how memorable she could be. She would give what he wanted but she would get what she wanted too. She would make him see her.

.... Chapter 4 soon ...

@thoughtslikeaminefield Thanks for the beta read, the banner,and everything!

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988, @fookinghelljensensthighs, @idreamofplaid , @onethirstyunicorn , @the-chocolate-moose , @there-must-be-a-lock , @tloveswriting

Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets, @deangirl7695 , @divadinag @flamencodiva , @wayward-gypsy

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mari-onberry · 5 years ago

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Almost Makes me Wish for Rain: Lukanette Exchange

AO3 Link

@lukanette-exchange

for @vipernette

Marinette got her soulmark when she was 15, and it was nothing like she expected. All her life, she imagined her soulmark being something romantic like flowers, stars, or moons. So when she woke up on a sunny spring day and found she had her soulmark in the shape of a plain raindrop, colored all in black, it was a bit of a disappointment. Although, maybe she shouldn’t have had such high hopes– her mom’s soulmark was a macaron.

On particularly bad days, she wondered if it wasn’t a raindrop at all, and instead a teardrop. She didn’t want to believe her soulmate would ever make her cry, but some days the thought was hard to ignore.

A week after she got her soulmark, Marinette was feeling particularly worried about her mark. She hadn’t told anyone that it had appeared, even Alya. So, finally, she decided to ask Alya what it could possibly mean. She managed to get through the school day without worrying too much, but once the final bell rang, she rushed over to her best friend. “Alya, can I talk to you?”

Alya smiled and answered, “Of course, girl.” It was one of the rare times when her soulmate, Nino, wasn’t at her side, so that made it an even better time to talk. Marinette liked Nino, but she preferred to talk one-on-one with Alya, since it was awkward to talk about this sort of thing with the happiest couple in class.

Marinette rubbed her wrist nervously, right where her soulmark rested on her skin. “Well, it’s about my soulmark.” She held up her hand for Alya to see.

Alya’s reaction was just as enthusiastic as Marinette expected, but she wasn’t feeling the same way. “You got your soulmark? That’s such great news!” She caught on quickly. “So why don’t you seem excited?”

“I was. At first.” Marinette blushed, too embarrassed to look Alya in the eyes, so she just stared down at her wrist, tracing the mark thoughtlessly with her thumb. “I thought it might mean that Adrien is my soulmate, since he gave me that umbrella the day we met.” She wished that was true– that was one of the few good memories she had that involved rain.

Alya placed a hand on her friend’s arm. “So what’s the matter? Don’t you have feelings for him?"

"I’m not even sure anymore. He’s a great friend, but I just don’t think he’s my soulmate.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Alya showed her soulmark to Marinette– a turtle shell colored all in green. “You have to kiss him.” Alya had been just as confused about her soulmark when she first got it, but once she kissed Nino, both of their soulmarks became full of color and it all made complete sense.

Marinette looked stunned at Alya’s idea. “What? I can’t just ask him to kiss me! What if he isn’t even my soulmate?”

Alya shrugged. “Then you’re one step closer to finding out who is.”

Marinette went with Alya’s advice. Somewhat. Being the slightly inept girl she was, especially around Adrien, she typed up a quick text to him asking to meet her outside the school in the morning. And Adrien, being just as socially inept, replied “yes” quickly without any thought to what this meeting could be about.

—–

After one of the most stressful nights of Marinette’s life, she went to school early to try and clear her nerves before meeting with Adrien, and hopefully to go through what she planned to say. Unfortunately, once Adrien showed up, she forgot every word of her plan.

“Marinette! Here already? I thought I was early.”

Her first thought was to run in the opposite direction; she was afraid she seemed way too desperate and pathetic in that moment. But against her instincts, she stayed put. She chose her words as carefully as she could before telling him, “Sorry to ask you here. I’m probably being stupid and paranoid, but I just need to know about your soulmark. I know it’s rude to ask, but I just want to make sure that … we aren’t soul mates.”

It was definitely a surprise to him, but he didn’t show it. He was convinced that she wasn’t his soulmate, as least romantically anyway, that it shouldn’t even be that hard of a question. He held his wrist out. A bee.

That was what surprised Marinette. Not the fact that she wasn’t his soulmate – a bee obviously meant notorious queen bee Chloe – but she was more surprised to see how happy he looked. Chloe wasn’t the nicest person, but she knew Adrien and her had always had some kind of connection.

“Does she know?” The tattoo wasn’t colored, so Marinette could tell they hadn’t kissed, but there were many reasons why they would have decided to wait.

“Who?”

Or, Adrien could be as dense as always. “Your soulmate?” Marinette didn’t know what to do– she wondered if she should tell him that it was obviously Chloe, or should she just drop it and hope he figures it out on his own.

“No, I don’t know who my soulmate is.”

Marinette thought through her choices. She realized she could take this opportunity to kiss him– maybe there was some sliver of a chance that they were actually soulmates. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Repeating Alya’s words from before, she inched closer to Adrien.

“You mean?” He asked, and then stopped himself, setting a hand on her arm. “Is it you?” He caught a glimpse of her mark and had the same revelation she had. He remembered that moment in the rain as clearly as she had, even if they remembered it in completely different contexts. But could they actually be soulmates? “Okay, let’s do this.” He resolved, quickly getting even closer to her.

She was shocked. Could this have actually worked? Could she be ready to kiss Adrien? Then, she pulled away. She wasn’t ready. “I can’t. It isn’t me.” She laughed a little, breaking out of her usually awkward state with him. “Adrien, I love you, but you’re kind of an idiot sometimes.” And in that moment, she realized she did love him. And she wasn’t disappointed to admit that she loved him as only a friend. “A bee? Your soulmate is Chloe. Find her today and kiss her. You’ll be an amazing couple.” To finish her statement to the best of her ability, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then walked away. Later, she would have lots of fun talking to him about how it went with Chloe, but for now, she was determined to find her real soulmate.

“So? How’d it go?” Alya asked while they were supposed to be taking notes in first period. When Marinette didn’t answer, presumably trying to do her work, Alya nudged her again. “How’d it go with Adrien?”

Marinette gave in, knowing she would have to tell Alya at some point, and whispered back “It went fine. But he isn’t my soulmate."

Alya just nodded. "So does he have a mark?” She had always been curious– Adrien was always hesitant of his mark, always hiding his wrist with long sleeves.

“I don’t really have the authority to tell you about his soulmark, you should just ask him yourself. Or maybe in a couple days, he’ll work up the courage and actually confess."

"You know something, don’t you?” Alya grinned, already theorizing in her head about what could’ve happened between them.

“So what are you gonna do about your own soulmate now?"

Marinette was dreading this question more than the other one. Soulmates were supposed to make things easier, weren’t they? She sighed. "I’m not sure. I might just have to wait and see by trial and error.” That seemed to be the best method for now, since she knew her soulmate was someone she knew– or else it wouldn’t have shown up in the first place.

The only problem about soulmarks was that they aren’t as helpful as one would hope. They can show up years before or after one meets their soulmate for seemingly no reason. So that meant Marinette had a long, difficult journey of kissing potential suitors ahead of her. That was, unless her soulmate showed up on her doorstep in the next few days, but there was no way that was happening, right?

—-

A few days after her meeting with Adrien, Marinette was trying to look on the bright side of things. That usually didn’t come too hard for her, but it was proving a little more difficult in this particular instance. There was a pretty great perk to it, though– she was having lots of fun with Adrien now that the romantic tension side of their relationship was completely cut out. Plus, he and Chloe were getting along great. Or a least as great as Marinette had seen Chloe.

She still liked to stare at her soulmark sometimes as a reminder that her soulmate was out there, and even if it took years, she could always count on someone being out there that would love her for who she was.

That very person then knocked on her door. “Luka?” she asked through the door, seeing his warped yet somehow still attractive figure through the keyhole. She opened the door for him and then asked again. “Luka? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I may have heard that you were looking for your soulmate, and I got curious. I think your friends are a little more talkative than you counted on."

After cursing Alya under her breath, Marinette let Luka in, stopping for a second to look outside. She hadn’t realized it was raining. "It’s really pouring, huh?” She asked, partly out of real interest, but mostly just to avoid talking about the elephant in the room.

“Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it? I love the rain, the sound always reminds me of a song.”

She wondered how he always found a way to be poetic.

“So, your soulmark,” he started, finally deciding to just go for it, “can I take a look at it?"

She wanted to show him, but she was suddenly embarrassed. She knew he wouldn’t judge her for it, especially since it wasn’t something she could control, but she had never been proud of her mark. She saw it as plain, not romantic at all. She tried to imagine what his looked like; she assumed it was probably just as beautiful as him.

Nonetheless, she held out her arm for him to see and slowly pulled back her sleeve to reveal the teardrop-shaped mark.

He studied it for a minute, thinking long and hard about its meaning. Wordlessly, he held up his own arm and did the same as she had, showing off his own mark.

And there it was: a colorless outline of… a ladybug? Marinette couldn’t even begin to wonder what that could mean.

"Confusing, right?” Luka chuckled and put his arm down. “Soulmarks never make sense at first, but one thing is always the same."

Marinette knew what he meant, and she was glad to have someone who understood her struggles. She wasn’t calm in that moment, though, because she was thinking about what they had to do next. "There’s only one way to find out, right?"

And although she was totally expecting it, it still startled her when he asked. "Can I kiss you Marinette?” When she nodded, he quickly and eagerly kissed her. It was short, but far from underwhelming. If it was simply a kiss, she would’ve wanted to savor the moment more, but she looked down at her wrist and caught a glimpse of color.

It wasn’t a raindrop, or a tear, or anything even close. Her mark was now purple and embellished by a small music note in the center. It was a guitar pick.

Luka looked over, stunned, both by the fact that they were soulmates, but also by what her mark had turned out to be. He quickly pulled his own guitar pick from his pocket and held it up next to her wrist. It was an exact match. “Marinette, I–”

Marinette interrupted his sentence by placing a finger on his wrist. It was beautiful now that it was full of bright reds and deep blacks. ��We’re soulmates,” she stated the obvious simply, trying to process it. She reminded herself to thank Alya for being talkative, because she realized she would’ve been too afraid to try this without a little push. She felt like the luckiest girl; when Luka showed up at her door, she thought it was a long shot that someone like him would be her soulmate. In an instant, she imagined their future together, and was relieved that she finally figured out the mystery to her soulmark. It felt like a miracle.

“I can’t believe it,” Luka said, agreeing with her own thoughts. “Marinette, I always hoped it would be you. If it wasn’t you, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, Marinette.”

Well, that was another surprise. “Luka, I can’t believe it either. This feels like a dream.”

“That’s exactly it, Marinette. You’re perfect. You’re the melody in my head, but the music is never just music to me. It’s what got me through everything with my dad, it’s what keeps me positive. You have no idea what it means to me to have finally found someone who embodies all that safety to me. Who makes me feel the same way music does, who allows me to be truly free. Marinette, you are the best thing that ever happened to me.“

Marinette loved how poetic he was, and she loved just listening to him go on about how much he loved her. But it also saddened her. "How could I ever be good enough for you?” She turned over his hand and caught a glimpse of his soulmark. “I mean, a ladybug? What does that even mean?”

Luka shook his head. “It means I must be very lucky to have found you.”

She smiled and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry I’m not eloquent enough to tell you how much I love you.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed a kiss to her wrist. “This says it all.”

#lukanette exchange 2019 #lukanette exchange #lukanette #miraculous ladybug #mari writes

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